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9ccc82844c6e4da09a02a303fb02b150 | ['93819a1675674268a238896a3aa57f9a'] | He gives me a dark look that makes me shrink, great one person knows what going to happen lets just hope he doesn't tell anyone else.
2 days later.
I run down the stairs to see letters on the doormat, I pick them up to see there's a invitation for me. I open it to see its for Bellamy's 19th birthday. I think in my head why I would be invited since everything that's happened. But do you know what since I've only got a few days I'm going to go and enjoy myself while I can. I see that the party is in a few hours so I run up stairs and pick a outfit.
4 hours later I make my way to his house to join the party.
When I get there I hear music pounding through my ear drums. I knock on the door and wait for someone to answer, it took two seconds for Bellamy to answer the door.
"Clarke what are you doing hear?" He asks confusion.
"I got a invitation, I thought it was from you" I say quite shocked.
"No, I didn't so why are you here?" He asks.
"I thought I was invited but, as you don't want me here I will just go" I turn and leave but before I get too far, I turn around to say "oh and happy birthday Bellamy I hope you have a great life" the words just slipped out of my mouth before my brain could register what happened. I turn away quickly and speed walk down the pathway but as luck has it Bellamy catches me before I get around the corner.
"What do you mean have a good life, are you going somewhere Clarke?" He asks in a desperate tone.
"Why do you care? You kind of told me in one way or another that you didn't want me at your party, so why do you care Bellamy?" I ask
"Because you just said to me have a nice life and walked away as if your going somewhere or dying" he says giving me a serious look.
"Because something is happening in a few days and even if I win this something I will have to leave for awhile to protect the people I care about so you know I guess I came to your party to wish you happy 19th birthday and to say goodbye because even though we've had a rough relationship but doesn't mean I don't care, so guess I'm saying is goodbye" I give him a hug and walk away luckily this time he doesn't stop me but I do feel him watch me the whole way I walk down the street.
When I get home get changed into my PJs, hope into bed and put The 100 on taking my mind off of everything that is going to happen in the next few days.
I wish time would just fly to the day which is going to change my life forever.
25. Having fun!
Tomorrow my life will change forever so I need to get ready for if I win, I need somewhere I can go and hide out for a few years before coming back hear again.
I get up and put on some gym clothes then go on a run to get my heart bumping, while I'm out I visit the gym just to have a nice workout to get rid of some of the stress that is running through my body.
I work out for about 3 hours before I told myself it was enough. I left the gym and went home to get my stuff ready for when I go into hiding. I know I keep going on and on about going into hiding but I'm really scared about what my life is going to be like after tomorrow.
I pack all my cloths and electronics and other essentials into threes different cases and one box.
I decide that I'm not going to sit around for the rest of the day, I'm going to go and do something I would have never done on my own before, I'm going to go to one of the biggest theme parks in the world. You see to most people that wouldn't be important but it me I was never a normal kid I didn't like going out with friends, I would never go to theme parks, I loved to stay in my room and read, study and watch TV to most people that is really boring but to me it was the best thing to do.
I walk up to the theme park. I go on every ride there and I really enjoy myself. I don't get why I never done this before it was absolutely amazing I'm still buzzing.
I've decide since I'm doing thinks I've never done before, I have decide to get a fake ID then I'm going to the go to a bar.
I go home put on my outfit. Once I'm ready I leave for grounders (the bar I'm going to) when I get there I go to the bar and order a jack and coke I'm at the bar of about 5 minutes when I feel someone come up next to me. I turn towards this person only to stop when I see Bellamy sat there.
"Didn't expect you to be here princess?" He said with a raised eyebrow
"Didn't expect you here ever bell" the word come out of my mouth before I can stop them, I start to. Blush when I realised I just called him bell.
I see the look on his face and I feel uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to call you that" I say looking away as it is really awkward.
I get up to go towards the dance floor when I feel a hand wrap around my wrist.
"Please don't go Clarke" I hear the brokenness in his voice. | bc3442ec3c7346d5bb3fc2068380dda1 | ['93819a1675674268a238896a3aa57f9a'] |
1. Chapter 1
It was eight fifteen in the morning. I was rushing through the gloomy streets. I was getting cold stares from the gleaming windows as I ran passed, sprinting towards the rotten buildings towering high in the sky, I asked myself "how did I get into this situation?". They were waiting for me.
The corridors were as eerie as death. The clock hammered to the beat of my heart. I was worried someone was following me. The cold air pricked my skin as it flowed through the cracks in the windows. the weather didn't help my mood. It was dark and the clouds were crying as the heavens fell. My clothes were sticking to my skin as if it was trying to cocoon me in.
There wasn't supposed to be a dam meeting today, but something bad had come up so we have to find a better place to hide our information without it being found. If what we are hiding gets out, our lives will be ticking time bombs, counting down the time we have left to live. we would be silenced forever to chaos.
I got to the buzzing room. People were standing around the outskirts of the room chatting, waiting for the meeting to start rolling.
The cold air wrapped itself around me sending cold, sharp shivers down my spine.
The deathly silence was interrupted by the leader prancing in. He was covered in thick, clumpy blood with four gapping bullet wounds; he collapsed to the floor like a sack of spuds.
My endless ocean eyes flooded with the scene I had just witnessed. My silky blonde hair was dowsed in crimson red blood from the other members who were in the meeting. My eyes blinked around the room looking for the cause of the situation, but I couldn't see anything as my vision was blurred with tears.
I finally saw the figure in the corner of the room looking straight at me. His chocolate brown orbs looked angry and guilty at the same time. I jumped when I heard his silky voice break through the silence.
"Leave Clarke I don't want to hurt you. Leave change your name, leave the country and forget about what happened, forget me". It was then that I knew who the silky soft voice and chocolate brown eyes belong too. I couldn't believe he was here my boyfriend who I have been dating for 3 years and known since I was eight.
"Bellamy, What have you done? Why are you here? Please tell me you didn't do this" I pleaded.
He sighed, covering his face with his smooth hands. "I cant because I would be lying to you if I said I didn't do this. I'm sorry, but I had to do this, my boss ordered me to do it, its part of my job. I never wanted to drag you into this part of the world".
I stood there shocked, I so wanted to scream. How could he do this?.
I waited for him to continue, but he didn't so I did.
"Why didn't you kill me? you didn't even know I was here, but you still missed me completely, Why?"
Bellamy sighed, he tried to take my small, shaky hands into his big, warm, smooth hands but I snatched them away before he could.
He had a look of pain behind his glossy eyes. He had big watery tears that formed puddles on the scarlet stained floor.
He chocked, "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to kill you when I walked in, I saw you, I never meant to hurt you. I love you with all my heart that it hurts. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, marry you and start a family with you. Clarke and Bellamy against the world- together forever. I never in any lifetime meant to hurt you. I would rather die then anything else".
"How do you expect me to stay with you after this, you just killed innocent people, who were frightened enough. When I look at you now all I see is their faces. How do you expect me to do that the rest of life?" I say to him, tears pouring down my face.
The weather darkened outside to the sadness I felt.
I was scared it wasn't until then that I realised my baby brother was here.
I rapidly searched the room hoping and praying he got out.
Bellamy watched me before he said "Who are you looking for?" I stopped, I turned around and looked into his concerned eyes, "Jace my brother you remember him right, well he was here before you blew everybody's heads off".
He looked down, I felt physically sick thinking about how I had been dating a murderer.
I was brought out of my thoughts when I saw something I hoping was not real. My little bother lying lifelessly on the floor amongst his own thick blood. His eyes staring up at the ceiling, but not breath was leaving his lungs. I saw 3 bulging bullet wounds in his tiny chest.
I collapsed to my knees with a silent scream and a sob chocking through my voice box.
Bellamy came over to see what was wrong, but before he could ask, his eyes went wide.
I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. My brother was only thirteen. He barley got a chance to live his life. he shouldn't have been here; I was going to take him to school because my mum and dad had to go to work. It's my entire fault. then I stop and think. It wasn't my fault . It was my now ex-boyfriends.
I rapidly turned around and slapped Bellamy across the face. He looked shockingly surprised. I felt my blood boil as anger flashed across my face.
I started shouting "You killed my brother. He didn't do anything wrong and you've killed him. You're a monster" |
fc90c719b39b4309b0331304f75f8002 | ['9387d271d9044a2d98e2a349e20f6279'] | “Okay, so let me try this again. The giant teddy bear is Hunk, the glasses wearing squirrel is Pidge, the tall glass of water is Allura, the funny mustache man is Coran, and you, the stoic guard dog, is Shiro. Correct?” Lance asks as he points his fork in each person’s direction.
“Do you want to get zapped by my Bayard?” Pidge asks as she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling.
“Aw bro, you really think I’m a teddy bear? Thanks!” Hunk exclaims.
“Yeah bro, and your cooking is amazing, I think I might die from overeating.” Lance ignores Pidge’s threat as he complements Hunk, who is supposedly his best friend.
“Aw, bro.”
“Okay, ignoring the odd way of remembering our names, the last thing you remember is signing up for the garrison?” Shiro questions.
“Yup, I remember signing up and then, poof, all of my memories after that are gone. It’s almost like a magic trick.” Lance says, giving everybody an apologetic smile.
“I just don’t get it; how could you lose your memory? I mean, I guess you hit your head pretty hard, but there were miraculously no signs of concussion or any brain damage.” Allura ponders, bringing her index finger up to rest between her lips.
“Well, perhaps this amnesia isn’t from anything physical, but maybe from something psychological.” Coran speculates as he brushes his mustache with his left hand. “Not all amnesia stems from getting beat up a bit.”
“Yeah, what even happened? Why did I end up in that cryopod in the first place?”
“Well, you see-“Shiro begins but never gets to finish since a loud commotion comes from outside the doors of the dining hall. Lance’s head turns toward the doors, watching as they open to reveal a super handsome raven-haired boy. Lance can feel his mouth slowly open and unconsciously stands up as he gapes at this new stranger. This is the most beautiful person Lance has ever seen, but, then again, Lance has only seen five people since he came out of the cryopod.
_I mean, sure, that one lady…Allura? Yeah, Allura. She’s hot, but this guy. Wow, he’s on a whole different level._ As Lance glances into this new boy’s eyes, he has a strange sense that he’s seen that blue-gray color before, but he also notices that they look enraged. Then, he notices this enraged boy is coming directly at him, hands clenched into tight fists, and mouth set in a hard, angry line. Going into flight mode, Lance begins to back up until he feels his back bump up against the wall.
“Um, Ke-,” Pidge begins when she is suddenly cut off.
“LANCE! What the hell were you thinking?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there are any spelling or grammer mistakes, don't be afraid to point it out to me! I, sadly, have no friends in real life or online that like Voltron: Legendary Defenders, so I have nobody to proofread my chapters T_T
>
> Also, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and I hope you look forward to the next installment! ^-^
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ya'll, I'm back! Sorry for yet another long time since my last update (but not as bad as the first one right?) Now that I am back in school it might take me a little longer to update, but I am taking this creative writing class, and holy cow does it make me feel motivated to write! Also, I apologize for the short chapters...there are probably many more to come.
Lance should have felt scared, and he would have if those blue-gray eyes weren’t staring intensely into his own. He keeps feeling a sharp tugging sensation in his head, trying to conjure up some memory that he seems unable to grasp onto. However, he is not able to think upon it more as suddenly Shiro steps in-between the two, grasping the infuriated boy’s right wrist and pulling him off to the side. Shiro begins talking to him in a hushed tone with louder interjections coming from the other boy.
“I AM calm!” the boy exclaims, clearly looking far from calm as his arms are thrown up in the air with his eyebrows knitted close together showing his anger.
While the two argue away, Pidge and Hunk walk over toward Lance and stand on his left and right side respectively. Hunk lays his left hand on Lance’s shoulder in a way that makes Lance feel instantly comfortable. Pidge tugs on Lance’s shirt sleeve to get his attention.
As Lance tears his eyes away from the infuriated boy to look at Pidge he catches her asking, “Are you all right Lance?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine. U-um, Pidge, who…who’s the Raven-haired beauty?” Lance stammers out.
“What!? Did you just call Keith a beauty? Please tell me this is one of your lame Lance jokes,” Pidge says with a look of bewilderment on her face. “Although, I guess I wouldn’t be too surprised if you remember Keith since you talk about him all the time.”
However, Pidge’s comments go unheard as Lance turns his attention back to the boy, wait no, he’s not just the boy anymore. _Keith_. Lance feels a small smile form on his face as he stares at Keith who now seems calmer with arms crossed in front of his chest. Suddenly, as if feeling Lance’s eyes on him, Keith looks directly at Lance before sharply turning his head away. Lance stares in shock because for a second he could have sworn he saw a flash of pain cross Keith’s expression.
“Lance? Buddy? Hellooooo, can you hear me?” Hunk gently shakes Lance out of his stupor, looking at him with concern.
Not wanting this pure soul to feel more worried about him, Lance smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way, “Aw, don’t worry about me buddy, I’m fine! Well, as fine as someone who lost part of their memory can be.” | 3b41a39fe8994ffbb4e4ab482d856f34 | ['9387d271d9044a2d98e2a349e20f6279'] | Pidge lets out a groan of frustration as Hunk shakes his head with a grin growing on his face.
“That is one messed up joke bro,” Hunk says, letting out a small chuckle, “but it’s nice to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s my best quality, other than my dashing smile of course,” Lance smirks as he shoots his finger guns. “There’s no way I would forget that!”
“I wish you would have,” Pidge grumbles, trying to fight the urge to smile.
“Aw, c’mon Pidge, I’m sure you loved my jokes!”
“In your dreams Lance!”
Suddenly, they hear a cough, and all of them turn their heads to find Shiro looking at them with a soft smile on his face. Keith is standing beside him with his arms still crossed in front of his chest and his head turned to the side with a frown on his face.
“C’mon everybody, let’s go to the rec room. I think Lance should at least hear what we were up to before he lost his memories.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I love writing Pidge so much...anywayy:
>
> If there are any spelling or grammer mistakes, don't be afraid to point it out to me! I, sadly, have no friends in real life or online that like Voltron: Legendary Defenders, so I have nobody to proofread my chapters T_T
>
> Also, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and I hope you look forward to the next installment! ^-^ |
94b8811e81d341f1aa5f3870d8fdd08a | ['93983712745140c2a34eef66dd642e0f'] | The pounding of hooves and, quite possibly, the sound of her doom.
Rey had noticed the cart moving differently, but her brain had discarded the information as useless, and something in the air made her body clench in a familiar way, stopping her breath. Her thighs shifted as the wind turned, flowing over her. Her body arched, her cunt throbbing.
She cried out, suddenly blind with pain and confused arousal, not even hearing the commotion around her. Then arms scooped her up against a hard chest, the touch too sensitive against her skin and she gasped, inhaling as she struggled. Matt’s scent rushed into her and like some kind of magic, her whole body relaxed. “Matt?”
Even to her own ears she sounded groggy and nearly drunk, but she managed to peel her eyes open to look up at him. His answering rumble was enough. She didn’t know what he said, and didn’t care. Being in his arms made the pain bearable, but something else coiled inside her woke up.
“I’m… I’m sick… don’t…” She whimpered, unaware of how her hands began clinging to him, climbing and crawling over him as she buried her face in his neck, drinking deeply of his scent.
Matt stiffened, and the rumble in his chest changed, softening. Then his nose was shoving into her neck the same as hers was in his, and he groaned. “Fuck… Rey you smell like…” He grunted, his body lurching against her in an awkward half thrust despite her being in his arms. “Gods, you are like… heaven…”
Rey knew it was coming before he did it, but that didn’t stop her shivering whimper as his tongue licked a long line over her gland. “Shit… oh shit, you taste like….” He did it again, his touch harder as his mouth lingered. “I don’t even know… I need you to- AGHhh!”
Rey bit him.
In a flurry of movement that jostled Rey from her place, making her hiss like an angry animal, Matt mounted his horse and turned it back towards the city, clutching her tight. “We’ve got to get… Rey, Rey you have to…” Matt nearly went cross eyed as her teeth sank into his gland, though not hard enough to mark him, and he groaned, urging the animal to move.
Rey only knew that she was in his arms. Her Alpha’s arms. He would take care of her. Nothing else mattered. She didn’t have to think. He would take care of her. So, she rubbed against him, oblivious to the fact that they were on a horse.
She knew his scent, spiking with arousal that her body was eagerly responding to.
She knew the feel of his hard chest and rippling arms, and knew that he was wrapped around her.
She knew… She knew… What did she know again..?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Matteo was in hell.
Rey was liquid sex in his arms, rolling her hips, her body somehow fluid against him no matter how he tried to hold her in place, her teeth and mouth everywhere, her hands roaming. On a horse that kept rocking her against his groin.
And they were surrounded by guards.
They were all carefully looking anywhere but at Matt and Rey, but there was no way he could handle what he thought was wrong with her, not here. Not on a horse.
But his body didn’t care. His body wanted to toss her to the ground and cover her with himself, then pound inside her, uncaring of who was around. Part of his brain cared. He couldn’t keep her safe like this. And if any other alpha came along they would be vulnerable. That was the part of his brain keeping him from giving in. Keeping him sane.
But for how long? That tiny voice was getting smaller and smaller by the minute, the red haze of being on the hunt for her fading into a fire of need. Was this… was this her heat? He didn’t know if he was pleased or angry. If this was her heat, how would he handle this happening twice a year? This was strong, overpowering and making him feel obsessive, desperate to be inside her.. He knew the moment they were safe and alone, and the alone part was becoming optional the more she nibbled at his neck and reached for his cock, he was going to take her.
Fuck, Kylo was going to kill him if he didn’t get here in time.
Making a decision, Matt turned his horse and held her tight, nudging the horse into a gallop as he headed for Varykino. One of his family’s estates that was closer than the city. He could send a guard to tell Kylo where they were and … he could… he could wait until his twin arrived.
He could. He had promised.
Although mostly abandoned by the family now, it had been his grandfather’s villa, there were still servants to keep the place clean and well kept. It would have to be enough.
Though surprised, the servants took his horse and got out of the way as he swiftly moved to where he knew the master’s chambers to be. “Send a rider for my brother. Bring him here as fast as possible. And-” He bared his teeth as Rey’s hands cupped his cock, breathing hard through his teeth. “And go to the palace. Bring servants and supplies for two weeks.”
Then, he slammed the door behind him.
Alone and safe.
His iron restraint cracked, his need to be careful and cautious was gone now that those needs were met. Groaning, he gripped her hair and yanked her away from his neck, oddly pleased by the glazed look in her eyes and the tiny smile at his action. He kissed her, biting and bruising her lips, but she only moaned and clung to him. | 5eeb37fb1bb343de8bac0e372fb74844 | ['93983712745140c2a34eef66dd642e0f'] | Now Hux rolled his eyes. “Kylo, I looked into her when you first started acting strange. Please tell me you haven’t done anything stupid like, knock her up.” His distaste for the idea was clear in his tone and the way his lips formed around the words, as if something from a sewer had found it’s way into his mouth. “She is trash. Not the kind of girl you should be dating if you want to follow Snoke’s plan and become head of the division.”
His body tightened, and the way Rey’s hand gripped at his lower back told him she could sense his aggression, so he tried to relax. For her. “Fine. I quit. Now get out.”
Rey’s head whipped up to look at him from where she had been staring at her bare toes, her mouth dropping open. Hux was gaping as well, before he started sputtering. “Wha- You can’t just quit! You have a contract!”
“Try me.” Kylo pulled his arm from around Rey and roughly grabbed the shoulder of Hux’s jacket, hauling him towards the door, feeling how his muscles bunched and readied for a fight, but the slimmer man just tripped and let himself be dragged. “Now get out.”
“I’ll tell Snoke! He’ll cut off your finances and then you will be right back where we found you, drinking yourself to-”
The door slamming in his face cut off the tirade, and Kylo leaned his head against it for a moment before turning to look at Rey, who was understandably shocked. “Are you okay?”
She blinked up at him, her hands resting on his forearms as he wrapped his hands over her waist. “Am I okay? Are YOU okay?”
He shrugged, more concerned with how she was taking Hux’s words. “You know he’s wrong right? You are so perfect and nothing he said was true. You are everything good.”
Her face twisted into a frown as her hand lifted to slap his chest. “Are you really going to be in trouble for being with me? You just signed the lease on this place!”
For the first time in years, Kylo thought things were going to be alright. He felt lighter, not as weighed down by the past. Scooping her up against him he grinned. “Rey, I don’t need money from Snoke, no matter what he thinks.” Striding towards the bedroom, he kissed her cheek. “Now you get back in bed so I can make breakfast. When I come back, I’m stripping this shirt off you. You look so sexy in my clothes.”
He flopped her onto the bed, ignoring the foot she tossed at him in a half-hearted kick. “KYLO!”
He winked as he walked out the door. “Call me Ben. I want to be Ben for you Rey.”
As he predicted, she didn’t stay in bed, instead following him out. But instead of the host of questions he expected, unaware that Poe had told Rey some of his past and not remembering much of the night he had an episode, she wrapped her arms around him, her face pressed to his back. “Okay… But you have to let me help with breakfast.”
Kylo…. Ben… Laughed for the first time, the first real time in years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, you are telling me your parents OWN Rebel Airways?” Rey stared at Kylo as he traced idle patterns on her belly, both of them naked and sprawled in his bed again. “The flight company Poe works for and that Finn is dying to get a job at when he graduates?”
His dark head nodded, kissing at her ribcage, but not saying anything.
Threading a hand through his hair she tugged at the silky strands until he looked up at her. “Why in the world did you work for FO anyway?”
He heaved himself up next to her, stretching out on his back and Rey would never admit it, but the king sized bed had been the right choice based on their activities and how much room he took up right now. Staring at the ceiling he spoke slowly, and it was Rey’s turn to roll to her side and stroke a hand over his skin as he spoke. “Me and my dad… Things have always been…” His face scrunched in that oddly cute oddly wolfish way he had as he thought of the words he wanted. “We didn’t get along. Never have. Weird since we have so much in common, but my mom… She always said we were too alike and that was why we fought.”
He shrugged and Rey didn’t say anything, not rushing him, just letting him talk as she nestled closer. “We haven’t talked in a few years, but they never cut off my trust fund.” When her eyes widened and her brows nearly hit her hair, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.” Rey blinked at him, locking that away to ask another time and shook her head in an effort to stay focused. “But…” His breath huffed as his chest expanded and dropped quickly. “I’m not the kind of guy who can just sit around and do nothing, living off money I didn’t earn.”
“And First Order came along and offered to let you work?”
He sighed, “Yeah. I could do the things I liked about being in the military; the flying, the tech, the physical challenge of it…” It was unsaid but he also got to avoid the bad things he didn’t want to do, and Rey didn’t ask, only crawling practically on top of him, her face pressed to his neck, until he chuckled.
Wrapping his arms around her, Ben kissed her forehead. It was weird to think of him as Ben when she had known him as Kylo for so many months, but at the same time, in this moment with him smiling and kissing her head, it was easy. “What are you going to do now?” |
c16cb05eb57f4d1b88aa21583aac8dc2 | ['93aa9a8b5be948cf8c450d75538c130f'] | Idiots and Listening In
**Author's Note:**
> The idea for this story was prompted by this lovely drawing right here. http://crazygreenflamingo.tumblr.com/image/39102681397
>
> Go check it out, the drawing is great!
_“You idiot! What on Earth made you think that charging and attacking a bunch of Alphas was a good idea?!”_
_“I’m the Alpha! Don’t yell at me!”_
_“I’ll yell at you if I want to! Especially when you’re being stupid!”_
Erica grinned at the rest of the pack while Stiles and Derek fought outside. “Well, they’re at it again.”
Boyd snorted. “They’re always fighting about something. It just happens that this time, it’s about Derek’s boneheaded move to fight an entire pack of Alphas on his own.” Isaac laughed.
“You have to admit, it was pretty cool to watch.” He said with a grin. “He put the fear of God into those Alphas.”
“Well yeah. But it seems that our pack mom isn’t too thrilled with him about it.” Erica said, resting her head on Boyd’s shoulder.
_“I give up! You’re the most irritating, obstinate idiot I know! And that title used to belong to Scott!”_
A pause.
_“Don’t start the growly ‘I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth’ crap. No one buys it, Derek.”_
Isaac snorted, and buried his face in a pillow as he started laughing. Boyd’s shoulders had started shaking, and Erica was laughing outright.
Derek stormed into the house a few moments later, pausing only to glare at the three of them before stomping upstairs.
Stiles appeared in the doorway a moment later, shaking his head and grinning at the three sprawled across the couch. “I take it you enjoyed that little show?”
Erica grinned. “Are you kidding? I’d put that up on Youtube if I thought Derek wouldn’t kill me.”
Boyd smiled at Stiles. “You are the only one who can yell at him like that and not get ripped to shreds. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s funny, but that’s not conducive to this thing people call self-preservation.”
Stiles laughed as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “I run with wolves, Boyd. Self-preservation went out the window a long time ago.” With that, he waved at them and headed out to his jeep.
The pack listened as the motor started and Stiles backed out of the driveway. Isaac glanced at the others. “How much you guys wanna bet he’ll be back in a little while to yell at Derek some more?” | ff0d7b7425ce4e978a31d5493be6e42f | ['93aa9a8b5be948cf8c450d75538c130f'] | Of Medbay and Cuddles
**_Transformers © Hasbro_ **
**_A/N – I live! I’m sorry for not putting anything up in FOREVER. I’m a horrible person, I know. But hey, new story here, right? So I’m forgiven? Right? *hopeful puppy eyes*_ **
****
**_Anyway, on with the story!_ **
****
****
**_/--/_ **
****
Pain. That was the first thing Sideswipe registered when he began to come back online. Pain meant he was still functioning, so hey, yay him. Pain also meant that he was in Ratchet’s medbay, which was slightly less awesome. He groaned as he brought his optics online and looked around.
Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, which meant that Sideswipe wasn’t in any danger of kicking it. Good to know. He then looked down at himself and winced. His shin guards were still missing, exposed wiring and circuitry visible, and his abdomen and arms weren’t much better. And that was just what he could see. Ratchet must’ve had a field day. A sound to his right drew his attention to where Sunstreaker was sitting on one of the nearby berths. Sunny was watching him closely, optics narrowed at him.
Uh-oh. That was not a good look.
“Um, hi, Sunny.” Sideswipe tried. The look only got worse. “Okay, I know you’re angry with me, though I don’t know why, considering I’m ya know, alive, and saved our Prime.”
Sunstreaker only blinked once, before speaking in a very even tone. “Sideswipe. Do you know how many times you died on Ratchet’s table?”
Ah.
“Um, no. That kind of comes with bleeding and being unconscious. I don’t really remember anything after getting shot with Megatron’s fusion cannon.” Sideswipe said thoughtfully, head tilted just a bit to the side.
“I’m not really in the mood to listen to you downplay what happened, Sideswipe.” Sunstreaker growled. “I felt you die no less than five different times. Do you have _any idea what that’s like?!”_ by the time Sunstreaker was done speaking he was yelling.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Sideswipe said calmly. “Because in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been where you are. We both have. I’m not downplaying anything, because I don’t have anything to go on except what I can see, and I know that those are not all of my wounds. And I’m so drugged up that if I try to run a scan on myself I’ll just misread it. So instead of yelling at me, why don’t you tell me just what happened?”
That gave Sunstreaker pause, but not much of one. “You honestly don’t remember?”
“No. Which is why I’m asking. Again. For the thousandth time.”
Sunstreaker sighed heavily. “You took a full blast from Megatron’s fusion cannon to the front. It blasted you back a good hundred feet, burned through all your chassis armor, and almost burnt your spark casing to ash. Ratchet barely got to you in time.” Sunstreaker’s optics shuttered for a moment. “We honestly thought you were dead for a moment – your color started going grey.”
Sideswipe was quiet as he processed this. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I jumped between Prime and the blast.” he murmured at last.
“Why did you do that, out of curiosity? Prime’s armor can handle a blast from that cannon. Yours can’t.” Sunstreaker asked, frowning slightly.
“If I hadn’t jumped between Prime and that blast, Prime would be dead.” Sideswipe said simply. “So, I got between him and Megatron. I didn’t really think about it.”
Sunstreaker nodded once, accepting that explanation. “You’ve been unconscious in medbay for about two days. Ratchet didn’t expect you to wake up for at least another week or so.” He said, a wry smile crossing his face. “Hence why you aren’t completely repaired. Ratchet’s still welding your new armor together before he replaces it.”
Sideswipe nodded once. “Hey, Sunny? Can I ask you a favor?”
Sunstreaker stilled, eyeing Sideswipe suspiciously. “Depends on the favor.”
“I wanna cuddle.”
Sunstreaker gave his twin a deadpan stare. “You want to what?”
“Cuddle. I wanna cuddle.” Sideswipe turned wide puppy optics on his twin. “Please?”
“Primus, don’t do that, don’t give me the puppy optics, they never work.” Sunstreaker muttered.
Sideswipe grinned, ruining the puppy opics. “They totally work, you were flinching.” He then turned the puppy optics back on. “Please? Just for a little while?”
“Fine, fine, knock it off already, it hurts to look at. I feel like I’m kicking a turbo-cat or something.” Sunstreaker grumbled as he slid off the berth he’d been sitting on. He walked over to where Sideswipe was gingerly moving over to make room for him. “Don’t make me regret this. If Ratchet hits me, I’m hitting you, your injuries be damned.”
“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and cuddle.” Sideswipe said, snuggling against his brother’s side before sighing happily and conking back out.
Sunstreaker shook his head and allowed a small smile to cross his face as he carefully draped an arm around Sideswipe’s shoulders. And if he squeezed a little bit, well, no one was gonna say anything.
**_/--/_ **
**_A/N – Ta-da! Just a little fluff between Sunny and Sides, ‘cause I really need the fluff right now. So, I hope you enjoyed it!_ **
**** |
b0970c0cb29242f08bd5f0c1b32fd517 | ['93af4ed159f24b7f9ca5b7cf70604768'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I dedicate this to my girlfriend Hannah because she's the most beautiful human in the world and I most definitely wouldn't have posted this without her encouragement.
The thing about Louis, is that he's always been an early riser.
And as the early rising sun beamed through the gap in his curtains and illuminated his small London flat, he padded through to the kitchen with sleepy steps and turned on the kettle. He yawned, a small humph leaving his mouth as he rubbed his eyes with a weak fist and leaned against his counter.
It was 6:30, and Louis was still half dreaming. His mind was slow, his actions slower. As his tea brewed he carried it out to his bedroom, crawling across his bed and unlocking his window, sliding outside and settling into the blanket he had laid out onto his fire escape.
He loved this, getting up early and watching the city wake up at the same time as he did. The sky was emitting an orange glow, lighting up the streets as business men started to make their way to the office and market stands started to set up. The birds were singing, filling his ears with a beautiful morning melody which made him smile slightly, lean his head against the brick behind him. The air was fresh too, it was autumn now and the chilly morning only made him shiver slightly as he snuggled down into his blanket and cupped his steaming mug. He reached into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms, bringing from it a slightly crumpled box of Malboro Reds and a lighter. This was his routine, his conventional start to the day - and he couldn't have been more happy about it.
Across from his perch sat a hole in the wall bakery. It was small, and always emitted and warm doughy smell that filled him up with a sense of _home_. It was cozy too, by looks of it. Louis longed to step inside, see for himself just how cushy the interior is and try a baked good that always smelt so, so delicious. In another world, Louis could see himself being a regular there. He'd walk in with a sense of ease and smile to all the familiar faces behind the counter. He wanted to be able to ask for "the usual, please" and take a seat by the window and watch the street outside. But he couldn't, because the world was mean and cold and out to get him, and he was much much safer inside the confines of his own home.
A perk of his morning was always seeing the beautiful boy with the apron step outside for a cigarette. He'd walk out around 6:50, according to Louis' watch, covered in flour and icing, and light a smoke as he sat outside the bakery window. Louis watched him, everyday, and sometimes the boy would watch him too. This morning was no different.
It was 6:48 when he stepped out the bakery doors, bringing with him a whiff of the smell from inside. He had soft looking curls that Louis had seen develop from a boyish halo to a subtle quiff. He was tall, very very tall with a lanky figure that was the complete opposite of Louis' own. He was humming this morning, a song by The Pixies that Louis was very familiar with from his days spent inside doing nothing but chain smoking and reading and listening to music. Louis grabbed his lighter, tried to spark up at the same time as the baker boy. There was something about synchronised smoking with the perfect stranger across the street that made Louis feel connected to him in, as though the integrated click of the lighters was enough to establish that they were acquainted in some way.
As the boy across the street inhaled and pulled his cigarette away from his lips, he gave Louis a slight nod, one side of his lips quirked up into a small grin that made Louis want to reach for more and run away at the same time. Louis continued to smoke, finishing his tea in between drags and occasionally looking back up and catching the eye of the boy with the beautiful face and the dirty apron.
-
Four hours later and Louis was still outside, half way through a Ray Bradbury book and almost out of cigarettes. It's a Monday, and as always Louis would get checked in on by Zayn at about 12. Today however, Zayn walked in at approximately 11:20, and greeted him with a whistle and a "Good afternoon Lou!"
It's not like Louis keeps a tight schedule, because really, he doesn't do much of anything at all, but he doesn't like to be thrown out of his regular set up, and Zayn should know this by now. As Zayn steps out onto the fire escape, fresh pack of cigarettes in one hand and a warm mug of tea in the other, Louis frowns up at him slightly, taps his watch a few times before gratefully accepting the tea that Zayn offered.
"Don't get all pouty with me, thought I'd come in a bit early so I could take the lunch time shift, pays better, dunnit." Louis nods, takes two cigarettes out of his new pack and offers one to Zayn before lighting his own smoke and staring out at the bakery. Zayn follows his wistful gaze and feels his heart clench knowing just how much Louis wants to be in there. "Spoke to baker boy yet?" Zayn chirped, sparking up his cigarette and trying to lighten up the conversation.
"I erm, well, no, not- no I haven't," Louis' response is quiet, muffled by the shaky hand which holds his cigarette close to his mouth, a shield from prying questions he doesn't get asked often. | ba37ccf7b154405e9cc402355a9bdfe6 | ['93af4ed159f24b7f9ca5b7cf70604768'] | "Oh wow, you sure do pick 'em don't ya?" Zayn teases, and Louis blushes, because yeah, he guess he kind of does.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry I think I'm kind if useless at updating but I'm trying my hardest!!
> Thanks for reading, have a good day! :D
4. Chapter 4
When Louis was five and king of the playground, he stole a boys Power Ranger and replaced it with his tiny bust up toy car.
He didn't say anything, even when the boy was crying out for his mum in despair. He didn't say anything, even when the teachers sat all the children down and asked them what happened. He didn't say anything, even when the other kids couldn't stop talking about the thievery. By the time he went home, the guilt had become so strong he could nothing but cry and tell his mum what he did. Going into school the next day and confessing that he was to blame was perhaps the most humiliating experience of his life.
Louis feels as though that's what going out onto the balcony again feels like.
He's nervous this morning, blanket curled around his figure as he shuffles his feet a
Iittle, waits for Harry to step outside as usual for a smoke. He feels like a child again, vulnerable and guilty and ashamed.
When the doors to the bakery open and Harry steps outside, Louis' explaining before he can even look up.
"I don't like to go outside."
And Louis feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, because at least the truth is out there. Harry smiles at Louis, looks down as he rolls his cigarette between his fingers.
"That's okay," he shrugs, and gives Louis this _look_ , as though he understands all of Louis, and he'll never judge him. It's a look that says "trust me" and a look that says "you're everything" and Louis reckons that going outside would be worth it if he got to see that look everyday.
-
The next morning is a Friday, and it goes much better than all previous encounters.
It starts with Harry asking how Louis liked the whoopie pies, to which Louis replied with great enthusiasm, and praise. It then led to the topic of favourite foods, in which Harry confessed to being a big lover of Mexican food, tacos in particular.
"I can cook them, too! I can cook other things, but making tacos is so much fun. It's all in the preparation, y'know? I like making the table look pretty and presenting things in little bowls."
Harry's wildly enthusiastic about the topic, hands waving around with spirit and eyes lighting up. He's entrancing, and he has Louis so absolutely absorbed with his light that Louis reckons he could be talking about gravel and he'd still be the most engrossing character he'd ever laid eyes on.
He wants to tell Harry, is the thing. He wants to confess that to him, Harry is a soft rosie balloon, floating, drifting in a sky filled with grey and glum. And Louis, he's afraid of the sky. It just so happens that the one time he plucked up the courage to look up, he found something that made him want to reach up and touch the stars.
But he's not going to mention anything, because even though his conversation skills are rusty, he's still aware that metaphors about Harry being the best thing in the atmosphere is probably not the best way to connect.
Instead, he murmurs, eyes still glued to Harry, "I haven't eaten a home cooked meal in over a year."
And at that, Harry's eyes widen in shock, hands at his sides as he looks up at Louis with nothing but concern and pity.
But before he can say anything, Louis is standing up, grabbing his cigarettes and climbing inside the window pane. He shuts the window, locks it tight and scrambles into his bed, climbing under the duvet and his body starts to shake.
He's fucked it up, he's shared too much of himself. Harry will think he's weird now, Harry will understand how much of a freak Louis is and never talk to him again. Harry will hate him. Because he's disturbed and he can't leave the house and he can't eat home cooked meals because _for fucks sake_ there's no one around to cook it for him. He's alone, and he's sad, and he can't even leave the house to pick up his _fucking_ post because he's scared, fucking terrified.
And he can't do anything but tug his hair and clench his teeth and scratch his skin in frustration.
-
When Zayn strolls in the next evening, his eyes are bright and mischievous.
"Why're your eyes doing that?" Louis questions, wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa with a mug of tea in his hands. He's watching some sort game show, has been all day, but even then he doesn't know what's going on. His life is like that, he watches things with a fake interest but never takes it in. Unless it's Harry and his wild hair and knobbly legs.
"Doing what?" Zayn shrugs, but his voice holds a teasing edge to it and Louis doesn't like that.
"You're planning something, I can tell. You're doing that thing where you smile like you have a secret. I don't like it."
Zayn sighs, takes off his shoes and rounds over to the sofa to drop a kiss to Louis' head.
"Listen, I'm gonna need you to take a shower and wear something that's not trackies and a jumper, okay?"
Louis whips his head up, eyes wide and startled.
"Why?! What's going on?" His voice is high pitched and scratchy, panic laced in every word. |
ec59a2194c7c47d7ac9392bb8207dffb | ['93d7189257c1452bbcea30269688c2d0'] | The next couple of days saw me bedridden, recovering from the abuse my body had received. Odd enough the man responsible for pulrverising both my physical and mental being has disappeared for the duration of this time, I doubted he ever left the mansion or, at least, I could still feel his presence within the walls of the large house. Perhaps it was only my paranoia speaking.
Mother has gone off to work for the day leaving me in my lonesome, finding a childlike adventure to entertain myself with was a hard chore considering the condition my body was in. I gingerly touched my side and winced at the sting of pain letting out a quiet whimper. The aftermath of that unfortunate event was quite gruesome, my face slowly regained its usual colour from the bright red it acquired by my father's unholy slaps, there were bruises galore dotting across my torso and even some light scratch marks along my arms. I'm well enough to walk around without feeling too much pain yet my mother insisted that I remain home-bound until the marks of abuse at least faded away some more.
"No need to bring in attention when not needed," she had told me, "I can handle this, I promise my dear."
As of right then, I was bored stiff. Cartoons could only hold the boredom at bay long enough before I grew bored of them. Still wary of his presence I tip-toed around the house making my way towards my mother's room. Yes, my mother's, not my parents.
I don't blame her for wanting to move away from their shared bedroom and into her own, I couldn't imagine anyone willing to sleep on the same bed as their abusers. You must wonder why my mother hasn't made any attempt at terminating this butchered marriage of hers, truth be told: she has. I've heard her try to bring up the issue with him quite a handful of times, most of her attempts were met with a quick dismisal or another round of argument. So why was he so adamant at keeping her around when all he does was brought upon wave after wave of agony to her? Very simple really, we, humans, are greedy little things. We drool at the idea of being wealthy beyond our wildest imagination, we work hard to achieve the near impossible some of us willing to do degenerate things to climb to the top. So you see, the wealth that surrounds me did not belong to my father. Rather it was owned by my mother, inherited from her parents who built a company that works with the government. I won't go into the details of it, I'm sure it will bore you.
Another careful step has made me trespassed the threshold of my matriarch's quarters. Teal eyes scanned about the area as I hummed along trying to figure out just where the heck did she hide all those sweets?! Surely a brightly coloured bucket couldn't be hard to spot, but alas my eyes failed to locate the item I seek. Tapping my chin in thought I started thinking of all the possible hiding spots that she might have used, such as underneath the bed!
A grin lit up my face at the thought, quickly yet carefully scrambling over to the large bed and duck down to all fours. A light whimper escaped me unexpectantly as I felt a pinch down my torso at the abrupt movement, taking a moment longer to catch my breath before I, much more warily, lowered my head to ground level. A frown quickly found it's way to my features upon discovering that there were nothing but old shoe boxes, random knick-knacks and dust bunnies hidden within the dark.
I popped up to a standing position with a huff, scratching my head as I thought of where else might she hide my treasures. I opted to go towards the cupboard opening the door as one would open the doors to a grand ballroom, immediately I was met with a rather unpleasant scent of wood and warm clothing, the combination was unholy to my ole factory senses. The colour palette of the wardrobe almost made the faulty stench bearable, almost. Soft pastel colours dominated the shelving units, some designed with light patterns others merely the plain colour it was in, there were some blacks and greys but overall the colour scheme were pleasing to look at. Not a garish colour in sight except for the rounded orange plastic sitting at the very top of the shelf, it's face a grin as if inviting me – challenging me – to come and get it.
_Eureka!_ I thought standing on my tippy-toes in a futile attempt to reach for it despite knowing it's far too high for me to grab without help. Thinking quickly I all but shove my mother's vanity chair wincing at the extert put into moving the unbelievably heavy chair, with a loud "Oof!" my little body rested on its surface regaining my breath once more before hoisting myself upon it. Blasted, I was still a few inches too short! In a desperate attempt to retrieve the treats I started climbing the shelves despite my aching body's protests.
Little hands finally made contact with the treasure with a victorious grin stretching my face, a face that soon contorts to one of panic when the board beneath my feet gave way sending me careening towards the floor knocking the chair down along the way. | 384a21cb4bb44aaab60abc5d12e337b6 | ['93d7189257c1452bbcea30269688c2d0'] | “Go on and change, sweetie. Put that bucket by your nightstand and come down, you’ve missed dinner.” And so I did.
Dinner was simple, I requested last night’s leftover steak with a glass of refreshing iced chocolate milk.
I heard tromping up stairs but paid no mind to it, I was too hungry to care. But my mother wasn’t. She gazed up at the ceiling and I remembered seeing the look of concern across her face, I didn’t welcome that look and was about to ask Mama what’s wrong when she diverted her gaze downwards smiling to me.
I didn’t like that.
Walking around she tussled my hair and trudged up the stairs looking very much lethargic. Quite the opposite of what she was mere seconds ago. My little mind instantly knew that father was the caused of it and soon enough I heard a loud _thump!_ of what sounded like a hollow plastic thrown at a flat surface. With a little help from my nanny, and house servant, Gerda, I moved from the kitchen to the living area blaring out the cartoon showing at that moment drowning out all negative voices.
It lasted about 20 minutes or so and I was still in my pajamas intently watching the animated motion picture in front of me.
“Anna!”I shrieked. That was the sound of my father’s voice, my mind goes to the large kitchen knifes. God knows why.
To say I was scared would be an understatement, I marched up the stairs and into my father’s bedroom only to find it empty, void of any being. I checked my mother’s room next but the result was the same. There were hundreds of empty rooms in that forsaken large mansion and I could only guess where he was in.
_“Anna!”_ He yelled again, louder and harsher this time. I finally found him in my still dark room, mother was no where to be seen, he was holding the jack-o-lantern bucket that I had brought with me on my trick or treat journey. From what little light coming from the hallway I could see that his knuckles were white, clenching so tightly on the handle perhaps a natural response to suppressing his anger.
I walked in slowly towards him fear clouding my feature; I dare not look up at him right in the eyes. I couldn’t, but what he said next surprised both me and my mother.
“Would you like to eat your treats now, Anna?” He held out the orange basket towards me with a smile on his face. I smiled back at him reaching out to grab the bucket but he pulled it back.
“Un-uh little one.” His tone was mocking but in a playful way, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that was very unsettling. “You’ll have to be a good girl first. Won’t you be a good girl and close your eyes for me? We’ll play a game, I’ll pick out the candy and give it to you, you’ll have to guess what kind of candy that is and I’ll give you the rest. Okay?”
I nodded furiously and did what I was told to do. I stood there in the darkness patiently; excitement filled my little body making me bounce on the balls of my feet. I was giddy, it has been a while since I last played with my father and now that I finally get the chance to do that it was like something that came out of a dream, I had the similar feeling as when an adrenaline addict was about to go on a large roller-coaster.
I was a child; I didn’t know evil could exist within the family borders. I was innocent, he was my father and I trusted him with my life.
The next thing I knew there was pain, incredible pain as it shot from the left side of my head. I screamed so loud my throat started to hurt.
I laid there on the floor clutching my head and crying in pain. I dare not open my eyes. I tried to call out to my mother but he caught me mid-yelling and kicked my stomach forcing the air out of my lungs. My fragile body was shaking both out of fear and pain, I immediately thought that my father had hated me.
That day was the first time he ever laid a hand on me in a negative way.
I couldn’t forget the feeling of betrayal I held for him that day.
How could he?
He tricked me.
* * *
**Elsa Hatlestad**
Fall. 31 October 2005
Askvoll, Norway
Askvoll Local Park
* * *
I went as the same role every year.
A prince charming. Of course, the suit changes style every time I go.
There’s something about suits that I really like, how I felt powerful in them. I had the strange urge to serve and protect, part of me wished that one day I could hold a badge and be a great role model but the other part of me really wished that I could pursue my dream as a super model.
Why? I could never figure out the reason. Perhaps it was the attention, perhaps it was the respect, perhaps it was the fear that I would not go home when I chose to become a police officer. I sure don’t want to spend the rest of my days wondering if I could miss the bullet or not. So I had chosen the safe way out.
I was down the street carrying an air of importance complete with regal posture, and of course a small Halloween bag to put the sweets in, one of my closest friend was with me. Her name was Bianca but we called her Rapunzel due to her long blonde locks. |
0ad739f6d8634affad94a1a44e1927e7 | ['93ed1b728e9b4b00acf5210c7486f4d7'] |
you are my clarity
Octavia let it go on for three months before she decided enough is enough.
She had tried to coax Bellamy out of his stupor after the first week, when the ghosts that were in his eyes came into sharper clarity and his skin turned a frightful pallor and his cheekbones became more pronounced than before. Then had come the bruised smudges beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and twice Miller had to drag an unconscious Bellamy into the med bay because he had passed out while they worked on reinforcing the wall.
And now, here he was, his chest just barely moving up and down, as though his body was rejecting this life without Clarke, as though a world without her in it was quite literally impossible for him to survive in.
She wondered what it was about that girl with hair like sunshine and scars marring her fragile heart, with the blood of thousands caked beneath her nails and eyes that were equally haunted.
(Octavia knew, of course, but she fucking hated it.)
And so after three months, with her brother laying on a cot in the med bay almost permanently, she threw Clarke’s wishes to the dirt and took off to go find her. She may hate her, but she loved her brother more, and if that girl is the only way to make him stay (stay here, in this life, with her) - then so be it.
Raven managed to sneak her a few additional weapons, and Lincoln gave her a hard kiss to her lips and a softer one to her temple, murmuring, “Be careful.”
And she set out.
Octavia had underestimated Clarke, it seemed, because while she assumed she would find her just a handful of miles outside of Camp Jaha, perhaps in one of Lincoln’s caves, and that it would take very little to make her come back (she had told Lincoln she would be gone for two to three weeks, tops, and she had rolled her eyes at his unconvinced expression, but now she understood).
(She worried she would be too late. She worried that she would drag the fucking princess back to the camp, and he would be gone, a withered bag of bones, and the princess would have another name on her ledger.)
(She hated her.)
It took her a month, and even then, it had been an accident. Octavia was fucking starving, and she was running scarily low on the rations she had brought with her, and the game hadn’t been particularly strong so hunting had been out of the question. She entered a small village, a group of Grounders she had never come into contact with before.
She saw a flash of golden hair.
“Clarke,” Octavia practically whispered, and the girl turned, her braided hair whirling around her head as her hardened blue eyes come into contact with Octavia’s own, and fucking hell this is not happening.
“Clarke,” she said again, firmer, with more purpose, and she takes a few steps towards the older girl. (She noticed that Clarke’s jaw was set, firm and unmoving, and she had her arms crossed over her chest, head held high, and dammit if she didn’t look like royalty.)
“Octavia,” the blonde replied, her voice cold and unfeeling, and - and this wasn’t Clarke. Clarke was kind to a fault, and warm, and no matter how much Octavia fucked up (she thought of the words she had spat like poison, in the caves of Mount Weather, and she thought of the hundreds of people, scorched to the bone at TonDC), Clarke was always ready to forgive.
But this girl… this girl was built of iron and steel. Her eyes were no longer the soft blue of the river, but the color of ice.
“What… what are you…” Octavia tried, but she was having trouble forming coherent thoughts, because although the ghosts had evacuated her eyes, it was as though her soul had, too. Salvation had come at a price, and although Clarke had saved her people, she had lost herself.
Octavia wondered if it would be possible to bring that girl back. The one who lit up at the sight of colored pencils, the one who made her brother smile like a kid again, the one who Bellamy looked at like she was the fucking sun and stars and moon, all encapsulated into one singular being.
“I’m a healer, here,” Clarke answered stoically. “I’ve been here for about two months, now.”
Octavia nodded dumbly, and then cleared her throat. “I… I need you to come back with me,” she said, trying to make her voice firm, trying to locate that warrior that was rooted deep inside of her.
Clarke lifted one eyebrow. “Why?”
Octavia felt the fire in her gut, again, and this time when she spoke, there was no restraint. Just flames and bitterness and burning, burning anger. “Because,” she spat, “my brother is fucking dying, and that’s on you, princess.”
(She thought she saw Clarke’s eyes flash with something close to fear, but it was gone just as soon as it had appeared.)
“Why can’t my mother help you?” she asked, but Octavia could detect the hint of concession in her words. She wondered if maybe Bellamy’s pining wasn’t quite as unrequited as he perceived it to be.
“Because he doesn’t want anyone’s help. He doesn’t need it.” Octavia stood up straighter, mimicking Clarke’s position, so the two women were staring each other down, warrior to warrior. “He needs you.”
There was a softness overtaking Clarke’s expression, then, and a wistfulness, as though she were reliving a memory from long ago. But then she cleared her throat, nodding twice, as though to herself, and said, “Fine. I’ll go.”
Octavia nodded as well. “We’re leaving now,” she told Clarke firmly, and although the older girl looked as though she wanted to protest, she swallowed it down and nodded. | 143144d619de45e18edb1a1165d18de1 | ['93ed1b728e9b4b00acf5210c7486f4d7'] |
all my bones began to shake
On the Ark, Octavia had never seen much red; everything was in muted shades of blue and gray and black, from the steel walls of the Ark itself to the ceaseless blackness into which her mother had tumbled, her body sucked into the abyss. She was in awe of the myriad of colors when she stepped foot on the ground: the blues that were bright and shimmering, the greens that were so vibrant and alive.
And then there was the red: the petals of the flowers that Clarke used, sometimes, as medicine; the lips of the delinquents after Monty had made a particularly sweet batch of moonshine that had stained all of their faces; the strawberries that grew in patches on the outskirts of the drop ship.
But Octavia had been on the ground for so long, now. She was no longer the little girl permanently drowned in demure tones and cold walls. Now, she had seen more red than she cared to think about. (So much of it on her own hands, caked beneath her fingernails, dribbling from her lip.)
And now, it was covering Bellamy’s abdomen in a dark, dark red, the color of rust and death.
And so she screamed.
“Bell? Oh my god, Bellamy,” she was muttering, her trembling fingers dancing over the now-exposed flesh, and she winced when she heard his grunt of pain. “Shit, sorry, oh my god.”
There were still arrows flying all around their heads, one cutting far too close to her ear for her own liking, but she couldn’t think about that, right now, because Bellamy had a spear lodged in his lower stomach and she couldn’t breathe.
“Bell? Listen to me, okay. Listen,” Octavia said desperately, “you’re going to be okay. Do you hear me? You’re going to be fine.” (She thought about the days when the tears from his eyes were red, when it was covering his hands and his mouth and she was petrified, and she wondered how things had changed so little.)
“Someone help!” she screamed. She thought she heard Bellamy mutter something about pretty fucking idiotic, don’t you think, but he was bleeding out and air was barely entering his lungs, judging by his erratic breathing, and so she pointedly ignored him.
“Help!”
“Octavia?”
Octavia whipped her head around at her own name, braids whirling around her head, and when she saw her - all blonde hair and sunken blue eyes and gaunt cheeks - she thought she might be in a nightmare. Or a dream. And then those blue, blue eyes (so many colors down on earth, and Clarke’s eyes were the color of the water on a bright day) fixated on Bellamy’s body, and Octavia thought she could pinpoint the exact moment Clarke’s heart cracked in half.
“Bellamy,” she breathed, and suddenly Clarke was on his opposite side, hands hovering over his body as though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be near him, to touch him. Bellamy’s eyes opened again at the sound of her voice, and Octavia saw the awed reverence in his expression, the love written into the exhausted lines of his face, and when he whispered her name, it sounded like a prayer.
(He probably thought he was dying, if he was seeing her.)
“Clarke,” Octavia said firmly, locking eyes with the other girl for the first time in months, and she pushed away the images of a village scorched to the core that were blurring her vision. “You have to save him.”
Clarke didn’t look up, her fingers quaking against Bellamy’s face where she cupped his cheek, but nodded once. When she finally met Octavia’s gaze, there was a clarity to her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a fierce determination that Octavia had once admired, and there was a tinge of relief to the sigh that left her body.
“I’m going to need a flame,” Clarke commanded immediately, giving Bellamy a tender and watery smile that Octavia tried very hard not to focus on before she poised her hand around the end of the spear and broke it in half. Bellamy groaned beneath her hands, and Octavia could hear her murmured condolences, wrapping him in them like a blanket, her voice the balm to the aching wound his heart had been sporting since she left.
Octavia readied the flame and stuck one of her knives into it, already knowing what was coming next. Clarke nodded at her, once, and then took the knife from her fingers gingerly. “I’m going to need you to hold him down,” she murmured, and Octavia swallowed thickly, but nodded her assent.
“Okay, Bell, it’s gonna be okay,” Octavia whispered into her brother’s ear as she clamped down on his shoulders.
And then Clarke ripped the spear from his body and stuck the knife immediately into the injury, and a scream erupted from Bellamy’s lungs that sounded like he was being tortured, that sounded like someone was searing the flesh from his body, and Clarke was whispering anguished apologies into the air until he finally passed out.
When Octavia let go and Clarke dropped the knife, she noticed the tear tracks cutting through the dirt on Clarke’s face, but she didn’t comment.
“I- I need you to rip his shirt into pieces for me,” she said as she regathered herself, wiping hastily at her cheeks and taking the pieces as Octavia handed them to her. “This should be good for now, but -”
“Clarke,” Octavia whispered suddenly, because her fingers were poised at Bellamy’s throat, and she felt nothing. “Clarke, fuck, he’s not breathing, he’s not breathing!” |
f212424e1b494bd2b6463310fca73d80 | ['93f1c338d3d945a9a7a38cbcb89a7819'] | She has been watching him. Honestly, he was hard to miss. What a gorgeous man, he was. And what an expensive watch. She kept her eyes on him and watched as he stared. He was the man she wanted. She turned around and broke their staring contest. Turning slowly, hips purposefully getting left behind before she whips it around in place, her most glorious ass shaking from side to side as she looked back at him. The one whose eyes were dripping in concentration, concentrating on her.
She walked back slowly to her spot as the song was ending. Unclasping her bra in the process, like she always did. She had her right arm across her chest as she turned back around and smiled at the audience. Her left hand slowly making its way down to her hips and softly placed it on her center. From there, it stopped for a second before, again, ever so slowly going up her torso, between her arm covered breasts and up to her smile.
“Like some other men do…”
Just as the song ended, she made her sight’s way back to the man earlier. He was focused on her like before. She started walking back behind the curtain but not before she rips her bra from chest and held it with one finger, her chest hidden from view by the curtain, and dropped it as she winked at the expensive watch man. She must have him in her palms.
“You okay?” Jimin asked as the music switched to something else. Taehyung has never seen anyone move like that. Taehyung has never been fucked through his eyes. “I want her alone,” he says to Jimin, to which the latter shook his head at. “They don’t do that here, boss,” he says, “For your eyes only.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Taehyung replied. No, he really did not mean it like that. He just wanted to see her again. With just him watching and only him to please. “Well, I do think I can help you out with that,” Jimin said, and this piqued his boss’s interest.
She walked back out of her dressing room, now covered with her silk robe. A few drinks to hold while she waits for her next cue and to watch the other girls. She walks to the bar passing by compliments with a smile. She knew she did good, because she always did. She orders a Vodka Cranberry and focused her attention on the stage. She felt the bass from the song even as she sat down on a bar stool. Starboy by The Weeknd, a new classic.
She raised her drink up to her lips as soon as it was served. She thought of the man from earlier and scanned the crowd from the back to see where he was sat, only to no avail. This new girl was good, she thought to herself. A little shaky in some numbers but still very effective. She wonders how effective she was for that expensive watch man, and is he staring at this new one like he did with her? No, she thought again to herself, give it some time. He’ll be back.
And back, he was.
“Bunny!” she hears the manager call her. Her eyes immediately spotted the look on his face, the look of triple the pay for tonight. Must be someone buying a private show. “There’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Lo and behold, there he was. The manager smiled at her as he squandered off to the side, leaving her with a look that said; ‘I’ll get the lounge ready’.
She smiled at him, but he only tilted his mouth halfway up. Coy, she thought. Maybe this was easier than expected. He had a drink in his hand, held with fingers adorned with rings. She couldn’t tell where they were from, maybe custom made? “I can never dance to a song like this,” she started, “Too fast.”
“So, you like it slow?” His voice threw her off guard, it was unlike all the squeaky voices that she has heard during conversations like these. Mostly from the men that could not get their dick wet without paying. He was different. His voice alone could have a woman on her knees, like she wanted to be in the moment, but he was here. Why was he here?
She smiled at his remark, calculating how she should approach the situation. “So, how did you like my number?” she asked, steering the conversation to one that might work to her end goal. “Nothing like anything I’ve seen before,” he says. She wondered if he was dropping his voice down octaves lower on purpose, for effect maybe? It seemed impossible to her that a mere mortal could posses this kind of voice. It sounded like the liquid inside his glass; smooth, deep, an aged hue, and a hair-raising after taste. Sexy.
“Well that explains the way you stared at me earlier,” she plays with a slight laugh, recalling the way he kept his eyes on her, “I’ve never had anyone stare at me like that.” She raised her drink up to her mouth, lowering her chin to hood her eyes, not breaking eye contact. To this, he smiled a lot wider. Looking down at the glass in his hands as he swirled the contents, breaking the contest. He takes a step forward, towards her and leans down just at the level of her left ear. “Well, I have never stared at anyone like that.” | b43477b021a94dd6b57b712300df5069 | ['93f1c338d3d945a9a7a38cbcb89a7819'] |
If You Ever Come Back
It hasn't been a month. Hell, it hasn't even been a week since you left the apartment that you shared with him but here you were changing your mind. On a cab heading towards where you left him, the envelope clutched tightly in your hand as your breathing started to steady but your heart wasn't following. The tears have dried on your cheeks now like the ink on the paper that was written the day you were packing your bags.
_I'm pretty sure I can't change your mind now considering how convinced you sounded when you told me you were leaving me. But people were also so sure when they said the world was flat and how wrong were they?_
You close your eyes as you recalled the contents of the letter, written with shaky hands by someone who had a dry throat from holding back tears. And as you opened your eyes the cab and your thoughts almost simultaneously halted. You were here. Again. And it felt like you left two years ago and not two days. The concrete felt familiar under your shoes. The building provided you with all of the melancholy it seemed to offer and you found yourself forgetting how to breathe. You didn't really think of coming up with a plan before you came here and now you're beginning to regret your decision. But you reminded yourself that you'd regret it more if you didn't do this, if you didn't come back to him.
_The key will still be under the mat and I'll leave the kitchen light on._
You felt like you were melting inside the elevator on the way up to your place, the usual warmness of it now replaced with a heat comparable to an oven. It wasn't long until you were stood in front the door of where you lived two days ago. The bronze colored metal on the door seemed to pull you in closer. _B-3._ You remember his refusal to move into an apartment that's not labeled with his favorite number. You smiled to yourself as you bent down to pick up the key under the mat that he promised would be there, and your hands started shaking as if your sweaty palms weren't enough proof of how nervous you were. You turned the key in the lock and you felt your eyes water. His scent greeted you, the oaky smell heavy on your senses mixed with the coffee that your place seemed to always exude. You look around and and yes, the letter was right, the light in the kitchen is on yet there was no sign of movement coming from it. You glanced down on the coffee table in the living room, empty beer cans and hollowed soju bottles along with opened DVD's scattered on top of it. You made your way to the only bedroom and found that the door was left open, he wasn't there but the impression of a person much taller than you was left within rolled sheets and a wrinkled pillow on your side of the bed. The other side, looked untouched.
_I wish it didn't have to come to this. I wish you could still give me the cold shoulder like how you did when you're mad, I'm sorry. I wish I could still give you a hard time, but I wish I never did I'm sorry._
You made your way to the kitchen where the only light was on. Two plates were set on the table _still_ , as if two people were _still_ inhabiting this place. Whether he was too lazy to put the other plate back or he liked thinking he was still dining with you, it didn't matter. It still made your heart heavy. Your eyes were dry now, much like your throat. You turn your head and something on the counter catches your attention. A piece of paper, much like the one inside the envelope you were holding. And as if your heart wasn't heavy enough, reading what was written on it made it drop to the first floor.
_I'm still setting two plates on the table, but I can't eat without you like this. They all tell me you're not coming home. I didn't mean for this to happen. I wish everything was hard again, fighting is better than when you're gone. I wish I could still wish it was over. I think I'm going crazy, I sit all day practicing what I want to say to you even though I know I'll never get to. I wish I had the guts to say I love you everyday. I wish you were here._
As the tears threatened to fall from your eyes, you heard the door open along with the sound of bottles inside a plastic bag. You rush out of the kitchen to see the man you were looking for. The look on his face blank with his hooded eyes a little wider than usual as he saw you and you can't manage to speak anything other than his name. "Y-Yoongi, I-"
His stance softens as he heard you and he turned to close the door, putting the plastic bag on the coffee table. For a second he pauses, looking down at the green bottles then he turned to face you walking rather slowly. He was around three feet away from you when he halts, looking you straight in the eyes and you can see how fast he was breathing. He seemed frantic as he continued walking in a faster pace walking right past you and into the kitchen. You heard what he was doing, crumpling the piece of paper in which he poured his heart out on, reaching in the cupboard and taking out a couple of ceramic objects then placing them down on the table. Then you heard him turn on the stove and the quiet whistle of the kettle as the water waits to boil. You remembered the last lines in the letter you were holding.
_If you ever come back, I'll put the kettle on and make you your favorite tea just like you do when you come home tired. I promise to have a smile on my face and everything will be like you were never gone._
And there he was. The sight that greeted you as you turned around was all too familiar yet it felt so strong it was almost new. The yellow kettle on the stove, two mugs on the counter with the tags hanging off the top and him. His eyes although tired, were bright and almost happy. His lips, parted and was grinning. _As promised._ |
81e9651e020b4fbc9262935918ead552 | ['93f683cb653d475e934cff340f2c3715'] | Netchiman
Thaurhel can't stop glancing at the netch herder. The Dunmer is hunched with age. He leans heavily on his netchihook with every left step of his swinging gait, squinting his eyes against the bone-dry air. There is an entire lifetime etched in his craggy face and in the notches of his shepherd's hook.
There is also a betty netch's tentacle wrapped around his neck. It floats behind him, bobbing along with his natural rhythm and sometimes emitting a very foul smell. Three bulls tag along after the betty and netchiman at a cautious distance.
As a hunter, Thaurhel makes it his business to know why animals do what they do, and when, and how - but he is new to Vvardenfell. The fauna is alien to him. He has only ever known the depths of Valenwood and Cyrodiil.
Still, he's been on this Blight-taken island long enough to know there are barbs lining the tentacle of a betty netch; he desperately wants to ask why the herder is letting the animal abuse him so, but Dunmer are notoriously bad-tempered and Thaurhel now has first-hand experience of it. They aren't even companions, exactly. Thaurhel caught up to the herder while traveling along this backwater road, so he doesn't feel he has a place to ask questions. The mer is intimidating - being in the presence of an elder makes him feel like an errant child shirking his responsibilities. Maybe because - if he is honest with himself - he _is_ one.
So Thaurhel glances under his lashes at the mer, and runs the tips of his fingers against the bowstring crossing his chest. Sometimes he slides his gaze back at the netch following them. The way they glide through the air is fascinating and unsettling in turns.
"Why are Wood Elves so _Blighted_ fidgety?" The Dunmer finally barks after withstanding a few moments of Thaurhel's constant movement. "Eyes on the sky, traveller."
The "Yes, ser" is reflexive and so is the immediate obedience. Conversation is a trade, however, and the Dunmer opened a deal.
"Why does she do that?" He asks, motioning to the appendage wrapped around the herder's neck.
"Mmm," the Dunmer hums, voice cracking on the ash that has built up in his throat. "She is a worthless, lazy netch," and - wonder of wonders - the mer sounds _fond_ , "and also she is being jealous. Protective. Because you are here."
That would explain the occasional burst of foul smells, if Thaurhel writes it off as the betty marking her territory. "Ah," he replies, having not expected an informative answer at all. "And you let her?"
The netchiman does not move his head, exactly - only tilts his face just enough to better glance at Thaurhel from the corner of his eye. It feels scathing.
"If I fight her, she only holds on tighter and hurts the more." The betty netch bumps against his head like she agrees.
Thaurhel's fingers curl around his bowstring. _Well._ That is life advice if he's ever heard it. It's doubtless the herder doesn't care about what's going on with Emperors and Daedric Princes and Nerevarines, but it must be some sign that even a Dunmer is telling him to stop fighting against fate.
"I see." Thaurhel says before sighing and dropping his restless hand down to his side.
"Mmm," the old Dunmer grunts knowingly. They both lapse into silence and continue walking.
**Author's Note:**
> 3/14/14 - Edited wording & sentence structure | e17af624fbed4f0ba807cae50b0d409e | ['93f683cb653d475e934cff340f2c3715'] | The doorbell rings just as Jeremy’s attempting to pull out dinner plates from the kitchen cabinet. He scrambles to answer it as he vows to get a stepping stool soon.
Michael smiles at him when he opens the door and holds up a six-pack of beer. “I brought alcohol,” he says, just in case Jeremy didn’t see it. He’s wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans and he looks goddamn _snuggly_.
“Awesome,” Jeremy replies, opting for casual just in case an enthusiastic hug would be weird. “C’mon, dinner’s ready. Let’s Netflix and chill.” He waggles his eyebrows for dramatic effect and Michael laughs, shouldering his way in with an absent-minded kiss to Jeremy’s cheek.
_Wicked_ awesome slips into his thoughts before he has the chance to stop it.
“Dude, you made pulled pork?” Michael exclaims when he finds his way to the kitchen and spots what Jeremy’s cooked. He slaps the case of beer down on the counter and inhales the aromas noisily. “Oh my god.”
“I know, right? I’m amazed at myself.” It’s hard not to feel proud of cooking _anything_ when you’ve been a single bachelor for an embarrassingly long time. Yet, the kitchen floor is still icy, and his toes are still numb, dampening his joy. Damn you, tile floors!
“Keep this up and I’ll be marrying you in no time.” Michael’s already kicking off his shoes and pulling off his hoodie (which, coincidentally, pulls off his shirt most of the way, too, and Jeremy definitely doesn’t drink _that_ sight in). “Where are the plates? I’m not waiting for this glorious mess to get in my mouth.”
Jeremy points them out while he retrieves forks, and then they both crack open a beer. They migrate to the living room to eat, because they’re slobs and tables are for squares, plus _carpet_. Fucking tile. Scooter wedges himself against Jeremy’s hip opposite Michael when they sit down on the couch and immediately falls asleep
It’s when they’re finished with dinner and three-fourths into some shitty movie and a debate about whether or not the actors know how bad they are that Michael says, “Do you like it to be this cold in here?”
He’d been hoping that maybe all the cold was just him, but fuck, the heater’s officially a problem. “My heater’s probably broken,” Jeremy says apologetically, “I’ll have to do something about it. I’ve only needed to use it just today, really.”
“This is where I say I used to be an electrician and then I fix it through magic, but I don’t think I can do that anymore.” Michael shrugs. “We can huddle together for warmth though. It’s about survival now.”
“Yeah, for survival,” Jeremy says very seriously as he immediately wedges himself against Michael’s side. Half-turning towards him, Michael slings his arm across Jeremy’s shoulders and rests their heads together.
“Also we should try to repopulate the human race,” he murmurs suggestively, resting a hand against Jeremy’s stomach.
Which, _holy shit,_ quick, Jeremy, be suave! “Not with Scooter near!” He exhales in a scandalized tone. God _dammit_ Jeremy.
Michael just laughs. “Could always move to the bedroom. It has blankets. No big deal if you don’t want to, though. Cuddling’s cool.”
“Bedroom’s a great idea, let’s get going right now immediately.” Since Michael is in prime position for it, Jeremy slips his hands underneath Michael’s knees and around his back to haul him up bridal-style. The sudden move upsets Scooter, who meows plaintively, and Michael laughs even harder.
4. Axial6401? And fluff. Because fluff.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 11 / 14 / 15: jeremy dooley/matt bragg, fluff, not really AU, general audiences
>
> LINK
When Jeremy hears Matt come into their cubbyhole office the next day after the stream, he spins around his seat to ask a very important question and then gets an eyefull of bald head.
It’s not his fault that he screams, and– to his credit!– he cuts it off very abruptly, so it’s more like a bark instead of a shriek of terror. He’s so used to a yeti that his instinctual response to hairlessness is absolute horror; it’s like expecting to see someone you know and love but getting a fucked up clone of them instead.
“Aw, c’mon, I’m not that ugly.” Matt says petulantly, but he’s smiling and pulling a beanie back over his head.
It’s offensive to Jeremy that Matt would pull such a heinous trick. His heart’s still racing, god dammit. “You did that on purpose! You knew! You asshole. Christ.”
“Wow, not even an apology.” Matt shakes his head and shrugs out of his overcoat, since it’s finally getting sort of cold enough to justify having one. “You literally just screamed in horror upon seeing me and then you call me an asshole for it. Wow, Jeremy.”
“Shut up!” Jeremy says, now thoroughly embarrassed. “Sorry, man. I just– your hair’s gone. You’ve had long hair for forever.”
Matt rolls his eyes and then steps close to him, leaning forward to brace himself on the arms of Jeremy’s chair. “It’ll grow back. Eventually. Some day. At least I’ve still got the beard you know and love. Don’t think I won’t still smother you with it.”
“No! Please!” Jeremy shouts in desperation as Matt starts kissing his face. “I can’t breathe!” But he puts his hands on Matt’s shoulders and kisses back.
Then they make out for a while, because they’re gross. Yet again, Jeremy is very thankful that they get their own little space in the Achievement Hunter building so no one interrupts them.
“Better grow that mane back,” Jeremy eventually mumbles against a kiss, “I just tried to grab it out of instinct.”
“God dammit, Jeremy.” Matt says.
5. GTA AU Jeremy?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 11 / 14 / 15: jeremy dooley & ryan haywood, genfic, Fake AH Crew AU, general audiences
>
> LINK |
fbd646be56fd487ea0b8ef7bb8a0ed41 | ['93f747188ddc47dc89485d1c5ebca84a'] | Spartacus gave but brief pause before nodding with slight upturn of his lips. “Do you believe he will accept task with so much to be done here? He has proven to be hesitant to take leave of responsibility.”
“He has already taken steps toward future in such regard. Besides, he holds greatest despite of remaining removed from missions after having been left behind many times for healing or inexperience.”
“A thing I intend to change as of now.”
2. Measure
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Steps forward are taken...
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you to everyone who has returned for more of this series. Every kudo, comment, and even hit to the work means so much to me and continuing to take on the challenge of this fic. Please continue to enjoy :)
Day had been a pleasant one, rife with accomplishment for Nasir.
He had used much of the morning hours to determine instructions to those he trained in responsibility of supplies and then relayed them many times to ensure understanding. He broke words of his expectations of them in task and how they would take on majority of work, then report to him their knowledge. He would maintain command of decisions of rations and allocation of other items as that remained delicate matter of which he would continue to search for replacement in. If day’s passing was indicative of success, he could place hope in method chosen.
Success continued as he spent all hours between midday and evening meal training under Gannicus and Donar. He had not realized how greatly missed partaking of such training had been for him until his body burned with strain of muscles worked hard. To pursue superiority in use of sword over all others so that he would not see failure in battle brought such satisfaction, for progress was easily measured and expectations were clear to him always. His good mood was aided by victory he held over many in sparring matches throughout day.
That Spartacus had come to bear witness of his victory over Donar and Nemetes aided even further in his elation. He held no need of hearing words unspoken to know he stood as purpose for presence of rebel leaders. Years as body slave left him forever aware of when eyes were upon him in evaluation. His only anticipation came in reason Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron held need of watching him as they had more pressing need of leading hundreds in survival against Rome.
Joy of day’s success was only slightly interrupted by Agron’s strange behavior. Concern did not rise greatly in Nasir, for unusual nature of his heart’s actions was not negative, but rather a greater focus upon affection regardless of surrounds. The German had joined Nasir for eve’s meal – as was usual since midday had been taken separate – and had immediately placed himself in position where he could wrap his arm about Nasir’s waist in secure embrace. While among others, they usually did not make prolonged touch of such intimacy, restrained to brief embraces or Agron’s hands about his shoulders. Even after leaving for brief moments, when the gladiator returned to Nasir’s side he resumed position as before he parted.
Nasir was certain Agron held no realization of any actions being removed from normal behavior as all else continued as was familiar. The Syrian had actually been making preparation to part from company of others to retreat to their chambers so he could put question to his heart as to his mood.
Intention was halted though as Spartacus and Crixus approached and took seat across from the pair, close enough to indicate they desired private conversation. This pleased the Syrian as he held desire to know what had gained him such attention earlier that day.
“Nasir, do you have a moment to break words of import?” Spartacus questioned, his voice lowered enough so that those moving about them would not hear words broken. Nasir nodded and leaned forward slightly to remove distance between them, Agron’s arm yet about his waist moving so as to remain comfortable weight upon his skin.
“What matter do you wish to speak of?” the Syrian questioned, following lead in quieting his voice. Such was not as necessary for him as people did not focus upon him as they did Spartacus and he was naturally soft spoken, yet he would not be one to break intended secrecy.
“I hold intention of assigning you to mission of great importance and would know your thoughts.”
Nasir’s expression remained passive, yet his heart accelerated beat in anticipation of finally being put to use in matters other than responsibility within camp. Words also gave explanation for his curiosity from earlier that day: he had not trained as he did this day in many weeks and the Thracian was ensuring his skills yet remained before assigning mission. He was certain that had he failed to prove himself yet capable with weapon Spartacus would have looked elsewhere.
“You need but break words.”
Spartacus gave fond smile – a familiar expression to be directed toward the Syrian in all the time they had known one another – and spoke with care of ensuring Nasir held full understanding of situation and what was to be asked of him. “Plans are to be made toward Lucania and the mines. From reports given by you, we have supplies aplenty, enough to feed many more.” Nasir considered numbers of the mines quickly and made comparison to amount of food, clothing, and suitable shelter to determine if such could yet be said with addition of thousands. His mind worked with haste and Spartacus awaited him to give either confirmation or denial of words broken.
“We stand stocked well enough to support such numbers for perhaps a week’s time if rationed wisely. That stands as only concern as clothes remain plentiful and we should have enough material for tents to shelter all.” | 4a901ff7e87d4298abce7616239680dd | ['93f747188ddc47dc89485d1c5ebca84a'] | Agron was about to speak again to bring focus to conversation of Nasir giving report of findings when Crixus spoke once more to the Syrian, “If vengeance upon Qilin was sought for his place in you becoming a slave, why is he not gone from this world? It was not words broken by Spartacus or Agron which stayed your hand and all know you stand capable of taking life of another.”
Nasir looked over the Gaul briefly before his eyes lowered again, yet Agron recognized the motion to be reflection of his uncertainty. “I will give answer when I have learned it for myself. Now may I give report which should have been delivered days past?”
“Please do so that action may be decided upon,” Crixus gave answer to prevent Spartacus from allowing subject to pass. The Thracian appeared to be having difficulty in accepting choices Nasir had made which had brought him such pain when he could have been spared.
Nasir took a moment of looking over the map he had become familiar with before speaking. “Guard has increased at the mines as expected following previous attack upon them. There are between six to ten guards posted upon every access into tunnels and we witnessed change of guard within which numbered just over fifty men.”
“Tunnels are extensive as well as too small to allow great numbers so concern within is not as great as increase of guard surrounding,” Crixus voiced passing thought to which Nasir nodded assent to.
“We observed mines for many days in shifts and they only change guard within tunnels twice each day. If attack is timed well, we may take advantage of guards exhausted by long shift of watch. Attention is not so proficient when one has been made to hold it for so long.”
“It seems foolish choice to have obligation last so long,” Gannicus voiced thought before Agron could as he was about to.
“Those within the tunnels are of least threat of attempting escape or opposition. Slaves who have been placed within have accepted fate and most only await death to claim them,” Nasir gave answer before he lifted one hand to run through his hair in motion Agron recognized as an attempt to soothe himself, possibly holding better success now that strands were shortened and he did not risk loosening plait or removing restraining tie. “When we sought Naevia, unspoken words overwhelmed and it was difficult to endure for all working wished for death and guards were anxious to see another slave fall for sake of task it would give them of removing body. Such men will not be difficult to overcome.”
Even after many months, Agron witnessed how Nasir’s experiences within the mines held strong effect upon the Syrian. There were yet many nights of restlessness brought on by troubled sleep by what Nasir experienced in that damned place as both slave and rebel.
Nasir appeared to gather himself once more as he lifted gaze to look between the four gladiators as he spoke, “There have also been guards posted about the perimeter, yet there is fair amount of distance between them and each only holds no greater than three guards. Men change just before each meal and twice through night.”
“How many may we hold possibility of opposing upon assault?” Spartacus questioned.
Nasir took but brief pause to determine most accurate number. “Near two hundred men stand as guard and there are close to twenty men who hold command over workers as the man we made acquaintance of when last we were there. They will be of little concern when faced with blade, yet they will oppose us when intent is revealed. Numbers of slaves working the mines appears to have also increased greatly, likely as result of rebellion forcing masters to harsh action to maintain control. Our numbers will be increased by greater amount than before anticipated.”
“Is difference too great for our supplies to nourish?”
“No, we will yet hold sufficient supplies to support those freed, however it will not be so for long. We would need to replenish within three weeks’ time with great care of rations given.”
“And what of our destination? We held need to move camp and with numbers standing greater than anticipated, we will need to move at once or take immediate notice of Rome,” Agron put question toward Nasir’s other purpose in mission.
The Syrian looked down to the map once more and indicated to a point to the southeast of their current position, deep within lands of Lucania. “There are two mountains here with enough distance between them to offer protection to camp while allowing space enough to hold defenses should attack be made. Observation was made from afar though as we were captured before we could come near enough to know for certainty that it was not often travelled. There stand only villas between the mines and these mountains and it appears as though cities nearby are easier accessed by different path.”
“Are cities near enough that we may access them with ease for supplies?”
“I cannot say with certainty until we explore surrounding lands with greater care than was allowed me. We would not be lacking in opportunity to hunt though and many villas stand near enough to lay waste to.” |
1b4814ab0c614092a70d176c503592e6 | ['9402c2b0385a4fa48be3f2ff47d16663'] |
1. Shadow
Shadow sat outside the front porch of the assist trophy apartment. The tears were flowing down his face. His TV played the news in the background. Sonic had just commited suicide. His ex boyfriend. The one he let go of.
It shouldn't have affected him this much but it did. He looked up at the sky and prayed that he was just dreaming. He wanted to wake up and Sonic would be okay, but his prayers didn't seem to be answered.
Rouge walked outside and saw Shadow on the porch. She sat next to him.
"It's gonna be okay.." She said trying to reassure him.
"He's dead Rouge… he's gone" Shadow said through tears. "It's all my fault"
"It's not your fault. It's not his either. Things happen so fast. None of us knew what he was going through. He's safe wherever he is now." Rouge said. Tears were starting to form in her eyes, which made her mascara run. Shadow looked over to her and hugged her. He cried in her shoulders. Rouge patted his back.
Later that day, Rouge and Omega were talking in the living room while Shadow was lying in his bed. The sound of him crying can be heard in the distance.
"I feel so bad for him. I remember when I would see him and Sonic together. They were so happy together. After the breakup, I noticed how Shadow was a little out of it. But now that Sonic's gone, I'm worried about him. Know what I mean?" Rouge said.
"SHADOW IS FEELING HEARTBROKEN. WE MUST ASSIST HIM IN THESE DARK TIMES" Omega said.
"I know but I feel like he'll just push us away. I want to help but I don't want to anger him" Rouge said.
"THEN WE SHALL SETTLE THINGS THE HARD WAY" Omega said holding up his arm cannon.
"No Omega! Let's just give him some time. We're all going through the same thing right now. We'll talk to him about it tommorow" Rouge said. The two then got up and made their way back to the Spirit Hotel.
Shadow looked over at the photo of him and Sonic smiling on his nightstand. He quickly looked away.
"Maybe this is just a dream. I'll wake up and Sonic will be alive, right?" Shadow said.
Shadow sweetie, I'm so sorry.
2. Perhaps I was loved
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sonic is a ghost and realized his mistakes
It was dark. Everywhere you look, it was nothing but black. Sonic was floating in mid air, not being able to see anything. Suddenly, he saw a light in the distance. It almost looked like a candle light. The light was getting closer and closer to Sonic's face. He covered his eyes from the light as it consumed him whole.
He fell over and landed on the floor. He got up and saw he was outside of Smash Mansion.
"What happened?" He asked no one. He looked around and saw the fighters walking to the mansion. Maybe they knew what happened.
Sonic rushed over to the front of the sea of fighters.
"Hey guys what happened?" He said. As if they didn't hear him, the fighters continued walking.
"Uh hello?" Sonic said. The fighters should have crashed into him but instead, they walked right through him. Almost like a ghost.
Sonic was shocked. What was that? Did the fighters walk right through him? As if he was a ghost?
He put his arm through a sobbing Pit. Sure enough, his arm went through him. This terrified Sonic.
"Am I…. D-Dead?" Sonic said. No, that's impossible. He ran over to Ken and tried to talk to him.
"Yo Ken, what's going on?" Sonic said. Ken stopped in his tracks. Sonic was relieved until Ken spoke.
"Did anyone else hear that?" Ken said. "It kinda sounded like Sonic" Everyone turned to Ken.
"Sonic's dead Ken. It's probably just in your head" Shulk said. "Now let's just get inside"
Everyone continued walking, leaving Sonic in shocked.
"I am dead! This can't be! How did-" Sonic suddenly made a run for it. He kept running until he saw something in the distance. He kept running until he got to the source.
He saw Snake sobbing at a tombstone. It was surrounded by drawings, flowers, and candles. The tombstone read "Here lies Sonic the Hedgehog. Hero of mobius. Fastest thing alive."
"No..No….. It can't be" Sonic said. He knelt down to the ground, tears in his eyes. He was dead and everyone was sad.
"I thought if I died, it would solve everything. But it looks like I was wrong" Sonic laid on the ground and began to cry. He had never regret something in his whole life. He saw Snake get up from the tomb.
"I hope you never forget that you were loved. Until we meet again" Snake said before making his way back to the mansion. Those words haunted Sonic. He was loved. And he was too blind to see it. The constant pushing away everyone and hiding in his bedroom made him realize that they did care for him. When he killed himself, he heard the door open. Had someone tried to stop him? He needed answers.
Sonic dashed over to the mansion and went through the wall. He saw Shulk, Palutena, Mario and several other fighters sitting in the living room.
"I know it's gonna be rough for us, but we have to stay strong. It's what Sonic would've wanted" Mario said.
"Sonikku gone…" A sad Kirby said. Palutena patted his head.
"Don't be sad Kirby. He's in a better place now" Palutena said. Everyone in the room suddenly heard the front door open. It was Snake.
"Snake, you're here" Shulk said. "This must be very hard for you"
Snake just silently nodded.
"I don't blame any of you for this. You did your best to stop him" | af3229f3ab03442a9206512c60dec3e5 | ['9402c2b0385a4fa48be3f2ff47d16663'] |
1. Chapter 1
“Today's the day” Exe said to himself as he was getting ready. Today was the day Exe was gonna ask his boyfriend Sonic to marry him. His heart was beating at the fact that after today, he would be engaged to his idol.
“Good morning boss. You seem happier that usual” Aishu said passing Exe on his way to the bathroom.
“Today's the day Aishu. I'm gonna ask Sonic to be my husband” Exe said as he was picking out an outfit.
“Well good luck on that boss” Aishu said as he was leaving. After Exe put on his outfit. He took a small box containing a beautiful golden ring from his nightstand and met up with the other guardians in the kitchen.
“Hey who's turn is it to watch the little one while I'm out?” Exe said as he placed Classic Sonic.exe into his high chair. All the guardians look at each other in fear.
“It's Kofuku's” Gekido said in a fearful voice.
“Hey how come everyone is afraid whenever it's my turn to watch the child?” Kofuku said pouring Lucky Charms into a bowl.
“Kofuku, the little one set the house of fire the last time you babysat” Kito said spreading butter onto his toast.
“IT WASN'T ENTIRELY MY FAULT” Kofuku shouted at his brother.
“You're the one that left the matches out” Kyofu said.
“You're more irresponsible than Kito and he's the youngest” Gekido said.
“Enough!” Exe yelled, cleary fed up with the brothers arguing, as they always did.
“Just promise me the little one isn't hauled away in an ambulance when I come back” Exe said.
“No promises” Kofuku said, mouthful of Lucky Charms.
After breakfast, Exe pocketed the box and grabbed the rest of his things before he began to head out. He hugged his little one goodbye and threatened Kofuku before he left. He would then make his way to his boyfriend's place.
Sonic was sitting outside with his friends and foster parent Snake. The hedgehog noticed his boyfriend Exe was walking towards him. He lit up at that sight.
“Hey Exe” Sonic said with a wave. Exe gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hello my love, how are you?” Exe replied. Sonic noticed that Exe was in his formal wear.
“I'm alright. Dad and the others are just chatting to themselves. You look really nice today” Sonic said complimenting his boyfriend's outfit.
“Awww you're so nice my love” Exe said turning red. Now's his chance. He took a deep breath.
“Hey Sonic, can I….ask you something?” Exe said. He looks really nervous and is sweating a lot.
Sonic's friends and Snake turn away to focus on the two. Snake is giving Exe a stern look as of saying “do it now or I'm breaking the deal”
“I have something to ask you too” Sonic says. Exe is a little confused
“What is it my love?” Exe said. Sonic stood up and holds Exe's hands. He looked at him with love and passion.
“I love you so much Exe. I want to always be with you. You mean so much to me. All i ask of you is….” Sonic begins to get down on one knee. Exe gasps. Blood begins to stream down his eyes. (A/N: Exe canonicaly cries blood. The more you know)
“Exe….” Sonic says pulling out a small box containing a ring.
“Will you marry me?”
At this point, Not only is Exe shocked. But so are the friends and Snake. Exe can't contain his excitement and pulls out his box.
“I was gonna ask you the same thing” Exe says through tears. Sonic is a little shocked.
“Then to you I say, of course I'll marry you” Sonic says with a smile.
“T-then….. I'll marry you too!” Exe says now a blubbering mess. Sonic gives his crying lover a hug, allowing his bloody tears to stain his chest. Sonic kissed his boyfriend before he places the ring onto his boyfriend’s finger. A perfect fit.
Exe would also place his ring onto Sonic's finger as well. The friends cheer for the two while Snake watches the two in silent.
Sonic notices his dad's silence.
“Dad….. Are you ok?” Sonic asks. Snake tries to say something but before he can say a word, tears stream down his eyes slowly.
“Dad?...” Sonic asks. Snake pulls Sonic into a hug.
“My little boy is growning up” Snake says through joy. Sonic hugs him back smiling.
“Don't be sad. I'll always be your little boy. Even if you're not my real parent, you'll be doing my real dad a favor and watch his little boy become a man” Sonic said. Everyone awes.
Snake releases from the hug. One by one, all of Sonic's friends began to congratulate their friend on his engagement. Sonic gives his boyfriend another kiss.
“I love you Exe” Sonic says.
“I love you too, Sonic”
2. The feeling of Love
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> After the proposal, Exe and Sonic get ready for the greatest day of their lives
Exe opened the front door, threw his stuff to the side and plopped down on the couch. He screams into a couch cushion.
“So, how did it go?” Gekido said passing him by. Classic Sonic.exe rushes over to Exe and gives him a hug.
“Papa!” the little one shouted. Exe gets up and hugs the tiny hedgehog, tears in eyes.
“He asked me to marry him” Exe said snuggling his child.
“So I said yes and gave him my ring”
“Congrats boss” Kofuku said coming into the room.
“Why Papa cwy?” Classic exe said.
“Your Papa is getting married little one. To Sonic” Exe said to his precious child.
“Mawwy?” The tiny hedgehog asked.
“It's when two people agree to spend the rest of their lives together” Gekido says patting the child on the head.
“With cake” Kofuku added. Gekido smacked him upside. |
02f1a8cc44dd41dc95537cde6b4472bf | ['9415a5e8106944cba508ff6b6380be93'] | "Todd...??? Where... where are you?" Damian felt calm flowing over him as he stared at the figure in front of him, a ghostly apparition of a woman dressed in black was hovering in front of him. Peace and love radiated off her in waves and Damian was tired of being scared! He deserved to rest. He took a step forward, the woman lovingly held out an arm for him to take.
A smile rested on her lips as she gazed at him, opening her mouth--- she vanished as a bullet hole appeared in her head. "Hey lady, back off my little bro he's not yours!!" A gruff voice cut through the haze in his mind as he recalled their situation. "Robin c'mon!! We need to leave now, trust me she won't give up easily."
Damian saw Jason on his bike in front of him, engine running and ready to go. Pulling himself out of his daze and longing, he blinked his eyes to clear his vision, then he reached out and hopped on the bike. Wrapping his arms around securely around Todd as they zoomed out of the area and towards the highway. He shivered from the experience, no longer finding anything about the mysterious woman comforting.
Tightening his hold around Todd to steady himself back to reality, he received a grunt in reply. "Hey kid not so rough, your not gonna fall off I promise." Resting his head against the young man's shoulder and listening to Jason's heartbeat he whispered "Thank you." Todd only hummed in reply as they zoomed on, the soft purr of the bike the only noise filling the silence.
Whatever had almost happened back there it had almost felt like he-- he was about to die again, if Todd hadn't shot whoever that was... He didn't want to dwell on it. He felt weary and tired, the past two weeks without sleep was catching up to him and after the encounter he just had he would like nothing more than to get to Todd's safehouse and rest for a month! Before he knew it Damian had fallen asleep as they entered the highway.
..............................................................................................
They were just leaving from the highway to the streets that would take them to Jason's hideout when they received an incoming call from Nightwing. Jason winced when he remembered that he forgotten to check in, the event from earlier had completely tossed the thought from his mind.
"Hey there Goldie, sorry for not checking in earlier but something came up a--"
"Hood?! Oh god where have you been!! I thought you were on the way to meet Robin. What happened, did something go wrong? Is he hurt. Are you hurt!" Nightwing's voice came through sounding panicked and a whole lot of concerned.
"Jeez Big Bird cool your jets, the kid and I are fine. We're on the way to one of my safehouses, the kid might be staying the night though. What's got you flipping out? You sound like the world is going to ending. Robins fly the co-op all the time, kid just needed some space. God knows no one can go a whole day surrounded by your cheery attitude, kid's pretty tough to manage a week. Seriously though, you Ok? Man you sound like a wreck."
He heard some chattering on the other line before Nightwing answered him. "No, no I'm fine it's not about me. Its just, something happened earlier tonight, when Robin and I were patrolling he told me he felt someone was following us. We searched the area but we didn't turn up any leads, the area looked clean, but he kept insisting we were being followed. We might have had a disagreement, then he stormed off and... you know the rest."
"So I called Red Robin over for some extra equipment, then we ran another check over the area and it... it wasn't good." Before Jason could saying anything to that, Red Robin's voice came to life over the comms.
"It was really bad Red, after Nightwing and I scanned the area again and turned up no leads I suggested maybe it might have been paranormal in nature, 'cause Robin's nightmares have been getting worse. It's also getting closer to that Day."
"His nightmares are getting worse??!!!"
"After setting the equipment to the proper frequency we scanned the area again and there were tons of activity. It seemed to be heading off in the direction Robin took when he left. So I assumed maybe something might be haunting the hell spawn, but I haven't been able to narrow anythi--"
"I know what it is."
"What?! You know what's or who is causing this? How long have you known."
"Guys why didn't anyone tell me his nightmares were getting worse, I thought he was doing great... sure he-- he might have been up earlier than he usual sometimes, but he always said he was training... I should have seen it or... or noticed something, he was my Robin and I... I couldn't help him."
"N, this is exactly the reason we didn't tell you... there was nothing you could have done anyway and you would only end up beating yourself up, then the kid would follow suit for burdening you and that would have only made his situation worse."
"Nightwing if it makes you feel any better I didn't know he was getting this bad either, I kind of figured he had it under control."
"Yeah now back to ghost, I know who she is. (Sigh) Hey Red remember those nights I'd crash over at your place?"
"Of course, you always organize my kitchenware and files before bailing in the morning and I can never find anything afterwards."
"Yea..uh sorry bout that nervous habit, anyway I told you about one of my nightmares once right? It involved a woman, really creepy, all in black and how she wanted me for herself? Well it wasn't really a nightmare. Not all the time anyway." | c76a2d4887624f50a4d6fd98ea5ebf2e | ['9415a5e8106944cba508ff6b6380be93'] | Damian blinked as his vision started fading the edges turning black before his whole vision was consumed, all sounds fell silent and all sense of touch left his body.
He felt like he was floating in darkness with nothing but the pain consuming him for company, waiting for this to end.... to wake up back in his room at the Manor.
After floating for what felt like hours, panic started to claim him as he struggled to wake himself up. 'No this isn't right!! I'm supposed to have awakened already!! It can't be true.. I'm n-nn-not stuck here!! Just focus Damian, calm your breathing focus... focus...foc.. Haahh!!!' Snapping open his eyes Damian breathed heavily as he took in his surroundings. There was a desk in the corner of the room, his homework lay open on it, a bookshelf was situated over it containing a series of classical novels, history books and geographic maps, among these lay some books deemed by Richard to be necessary to 'nurture his childhood spirit'.
The soft glow of the moonlight was pouring in through the open window, his curtains pulled back, revealing the bustle of the city in the far away distance. Damian heaved a sigh of relief to be back, to be awake. 'It wasn't real....it wasn't real... I'm back and I'm alive.' Clenching his fist then releasing it, he left out another shaky sigh. 'I'm still here, I am Damian Wayne and I'm still alive. It was just a nightmare nothing more.' 'Another nightmare,' supplied part of his mind. 'It happened again and it will happen tomorrow and again and again' It repeated. Gritting his teeth in frustration Damian silenced that part of his mind. He needed some air or maybe a nice cup of cocoa to warm him back up after the terrifying episode, whatever it was he could definitely not get his sleep back at this moment.
Throwing his blankets off him and rising from the bed, Damian took a breath to keep his calm. Once he was relaxed he moved towards his door and twisting the door knob silently pushed it open to peer out into the hallway, checking for any signs that he had distressed his family during his nightmare, one could never be too careful when sneaking around a family such as his.
After deeming the area sufficiently clear he stepped out into the hallway and lightly shut his door. It seemed he hadn't let out any distressing cries during his nightmare this time.
Damian frowned as he recalled the time when Drake had happened upon his embarrassing state after one of those terrifying nightmares, it had left him feeling weak and vulnerable in front of Drake and he did not want another repeat of that.
Sneaking down the hallway heading to the stairs, He thought of what he would do after his late night snack.
Thinking deeply on it he knew he could not possibly be able to return to sleep following that nightmare, grumbling over another night lost he walked down the stairs when... he noticed that the kitchen lights were on.
Curious about who else could possibly be up at this this time of day, he snuck his way towards to kitchen. Hearing the sounds of something sizzling along with the fridge door being opened the closed, he assumed it was Pennyworth.
Maybe Pennyworth could help ease his anxiety, Richard had always said that the butler was there to lend him a shoulder whenever the young man was upset. Damian walked into the kitchen but was surprised when he heard a curse coming from behind the counter, apparently Todd had stayed over after their last mission.
Realizing his mistake he started backtracking when a rough voice cut through the air. "Hey kid do y'know where Alfie keeps the whipped cream?? My pancakes are sorely lacking in that department."
Head popping up over the counter revealed disheveled hair and tired eyes. Evidently Todd also appeared to have suffered some nightmare from which he was trying escape. Absently Damian wondered if he looked much the same as Todd and wondered if he should have clean up a bit.
Walking over to a cabinet on his right Damian retrieved the can of whipped cream his sometimes volatile brother requested and tossed it to him. Watching as he caught in out of the air and turned towards the counter where he had placed his food. Jason was still dressed up in his bulletproof shirt and pants though his jacket was absent. It looked like the older teen hadn't changed out of his nightly attire yet, he noted as he continued watching Todd liberally coat his pancakes with the cream.
As he watched, Todd pulled out another plate and sat it on the counter, adding some pancakes to its as well. He then walked over to the stove where he retrieved his bacon placed it on one plate before walking both plates over to the island.
Grabbing a juice box from the fridge along with two glasses he sat those in front of him, before looking back at Damian standing in the doorway.
Raising an eyebrow he gestured to the food. 'Well kid?? You waiting for an invitation or are you gonna join me."
Damian frowned, "I do not require your permission Todd to consume my own food, I was just here for a light snack before heading back to bed." Nonetheless he walked over and sat down on the other side of the island.
Jason pushed the other plate over to his side. "C'mon kid we both know that's a lie. If your going to be hitting the mats you better fuel up first." Saying so Jason opened and poured some of the juice into a glass and set it by the food. |
810603e97d8544be8d383508eaaa9bdb | ['9431e4fb61cc4411a31bb7ff8c9762a4'] | "it's not like any of you cared before now," snapped Puck, who didn't like the way that they were all attacking him when before today they all hated Rachel
"Puck!" snapped Quinn in HBIC mode
"Fine," snapped Puck "our parents are friends and since there is not a big Jewish community in Lima our families normally spend most of the holidays together."
Before they could demand any more answers Kurt started singing the Shady Dame from Seville, which got a giggle from Rachel but confused from looks from everyone else.
"What's so funny?" wondered Tina as soon as Kurt had finished singing
"Victor/Victoria," explained Kurt
However, when the other still had confused looks on their faces
"You people really need to watch more musicals," sighed Kurt who couldn't understand why everyone didn't love Julie Andrews films
20 minutes later New Directions watched as one by one the members of Vocal Adrenaline ran past the room in tears
"What happened?" Whispered Quinn
"I am guessing that Shelby just reminded them that she holds their Future in her hands," answered Puck | 66a5dde6d39f4a6f8e82ed71cdccf845 | ['9431e4fb61cc4411a31bb7ff8c9762a4'] | In the hour since the attack had taken place, the glee girls had managed to get her into a shower, and into a new outfit. Santana's extra because she was the only one whose cloths were small enough to fit Rachel. However, as she walked into the office flanked by every member of New Directions there were still bits of egg in her hair that would need a few more washes to get it out of her hair not to mention the vacant look in her eyes that scared Puck although he would never admit it to anyone.
"I thought I told the rest of you children to get back to class," snapped Figgins who had been trying to get the other glee clubbers to leave without any success since Will had told him what had happened
"Ya , and we told you that after what those mindless robots did to her the last time they were alone, there is no way in hell we are leaving her," said Puck. The only thing stopping him going fight club on their asses was the knowledge that what he had planed was going to be far worse than any beating he could give them.
"What? We just wanted to help her make breakfast," joked Andrea who knew that no matter what happened her parents would get her out of it
"Te voy a mostrar ayud, ando pequeña zorra," screamed Santana as she made a dive for Andrea, but was caught be Finn before she could reach her
"Don't worry San in a few minutes that smile is going to be wiped of her face," smirked Puck who was really enjoying this whole non-valance thing for once.
"If you think I am going to stand here and let this boy threaten my daughter you have another thing coming," shout another of the parents as they pulled there daughter to the door
"don't worry I wasn't talking about me," laughed Puck "she is the one who is going to do it," pointing to Shelby who was storming towards the office, as kids ran away from her in fear. Mike swore later on that he actually saw Jacob Ben Israel jump head first into a bin
"What is she doing here," wondered Andrea's mother who would never admit it but; she was as terrified of Shelby as the kids were "this has nothing to do with Vocal Adrenaline. It wasn't even on school grounds,"
However, before anyone could answer her, Shelby barged into the room demanding answers.
"What the hell is going on?" demanded Shelby angry wondering why half of Vocal Adrenaline were in the office. Seeing as all Puck told her on the phone was that something had happened to Rachel, and that she had to come right away.
"Ms Corcoran I'm..." started Figgins who was confused why she was even here, but she stopped when Rachel ran into her arms in tears
"Mummy,"
"Rachel," said a confused Shelby who had never seen her daughter like this, ever "baby what happened?"
"Rachel?"
By when Shelby realised that there was no way that she was going to get an answer she looked around at the others for answers, , but it was only when she eyes fell on Jesse , and the others , and saw the fear that she realised what had happened
"What the hell did you do now?" demanded Shelby in a tone of voice that had even member of vocal Adrenaline coring in fear (, and quite a few of the parents). They had all seen her angry before, but this was different; she looked like she would happily kill everyone in the room.
"Ms Corcoran I am sure that if they knew who she was..." started Jesse's father
"Yes if they knew that she was your daughter I am sure they would never have done it," spoke up another trying to help, but instead only digging the kids into a bigger hole
"Oh trust me every single on of them knew that she was my daughter," snarled Shelby who really hated parents that think that their kids are little angels , and that everyone else was to blame for their mistakes
"their egged her," spoke up Puck helpfully when he saw that no one was going to answer her "they lured her out to the deserted Car Park , and throw eggs at her,"
Later when Puck was retelling this to his mother he swore that there was steam coming from her ears, , and that if looks could kill them then every member of Vocal Adrenaline would be six foot under , and that it was only when she turned to Rachel that she seemed to calm down.
"Rachel baby," said Shelby softly as she knelled down in much the same way Kurt had earlier "I want you to go with the rest of you friends back to the Choir room until I am finished here , and then we can go home OK,"
"Ok," said Rachel Meekly, which shocked Shelby, normally Rachel would have been fighting to stay or at least put up some kind of a fight, but then again neither did any of the other members either as they all meekly leaving the room in single file behind Rachel, and Puck. None of them daring to say a word until the choir room door had been closed, and even then, Quinn, Santana, and Finn dragged Puck to the other side of the room before demanding answers.
"How the hell did you manage to get Rachel's mother's cell phone number?" demanded Finn who actually liked Rachel and did not want to see Puck messing with another girl.
"Never mind that frankenteen," snapped Santana angrily, pushing Finn out of the way "what I want to know is how you even knew that she had a mother, seeing as how this whole town believed that she had none." |
94d9fab9c2e64ea7a677ee0420840c1e | ['94410347fe5a4060ba0517d1ac9b86f0'] |
Home
Finally, home was calling him back after long years away, and he hoped that he had not become a stranger there. It was what had shaped him and given him the strength to leave and it would make him more than sad to see that he had lost the thing he held nearest to his heart.
It was more than just his home calling him back, and Nagisa was nervous to see the man he had left behind to embark on the journey his heart had longed for.
Hope kindled in his heart like a tiny flame trying to grow in stormy weather. He hoped with all his heart that Hiyori would be there to welcome him home.
Nagisa had never had the chance to tell Hiyori that he loved him before he left, though Hiyori had said it every chance he got. Now he was on his way home, a ring he had picked out specially tucked safely away in his bag.
He hoped with every fiber of his being that he still held Hiyori’s heart, just as Hiyori held his own.
Having spent the majority of his childhood locked away, Nagisa felt worlds apart from people, until Hiyori had come into his life. He’d been the first person he’d met when his ‘father’ had died, leaving him without a place to go.
Hiyori had taken him in, and they had become fast friends, even though they came from far different social backgrounds; Hiyori being a nobleman’s son, and Nagisa being the son of a supposed criminal. Hiyori’s family had taken good care of him.
Despite that, Nagisa had still felt worlds apart from people, and so he had eventually set off on a journey across each kingdom to try and close that gap. Hiyori had insisted on coming with, but Nagisa had felt that it was something he needed to do.
Nagisa had left in the middle of the night, with only a small bag of supplies and a change of clothes. He’d left a note, apologizing for leaving and promising that he’d be back one day.
He hadn’t heard from Hiyori in those years apart, but he had never stayed in one place for long enough to receive a letter. He had been sending letters back to Hiyori whenever he could, but once he’d left the kingdom, he hadn’t been able to send letters back, as no one would take them that far.
It had taken him all these years to realize that, while his journey had been worthwhile, all he really wanted was to be by Hiyori’s side. Hiyori was the one he had gifted his heart to, and he hoped Hiyori still held it as dearly as Nagisa had held Hiyori’s.
It had taken him an extra year to find the right ring for Hiyori. Nagisa had realized that no pre-made ring would do for Hiyori, and so Nagisa had gone with miners to get the silver for the band. He had bargained with a dragon for a small piece from its hoard to adorn the silver band.
After that, he had spent months under the tutelage of a craftsman well versed in making rings and other such jewelry before he had finally gone to work crafting the ring that would fit Hiyori’s finger perfectly.
As Nagisa crossed the familiar moorland, a sudden fear pierced his heart. What if Hiyori had forgotten about him? He himself had thought of Hiyori every day he’d been gone, and remembered his smiling face.
Though he was scared that Hiyori may have moved on and forgotten him, Nagisa knew that he couldn’t turn back now. He had promised to come home to the little cottage down by the river that they picked out together after Hiyori’s parents had died of the plague that had once spread across villages, killing thousands upon thousands.
Nagisa had been excited and scared over many things on his journey, but nothing compared to how he felt now. He couldn’t wait to see Hiyori again, and he’d hardly rested on his journey back. He’d been so eager to see Hiyori that he had often skipped sleeping some nights just so that he could return home sooner. He had even gone so far as to keep travelling in the midst of terrible storms instead of seeking shelter.
Pink appeared on the horizon as the sun began to set, and Nagisa quickened his stride. He wanted to make it down to the cottage before Hiyori went to bed, and he was grateful when the cottage came into view, along with the steadily splashing river.
His exhaustion vanishing, Nagisa sprinted down the hill towards the cottage, unable to bear another moment away from Hiyori.
He stopped at the door, trying to catch his breath. He raised one hand, hesitating for a moment. What if Hiyori really had forgotten him?
Nagisa shook his head to get rid of that thought, and knocked on the door.
The minutes ticked on by, and for a moment, he thought that Hiyori wasn’t going to answer, or that maybe Hiyori no longer lived here.
Then the door creaked open, and Hiyori’s cheerful face came into view. “What do-” He stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Nagisa, his eyes widening in shock.
Before Hiyori could speak, Nagisa took just a step closer. “I’m home.” He said, voice softer than it had ever been with anyone else.
Tears began to roll down Hiyori’s cheeks, Nagisa reached up to wipe them away, only for Hiyori to tackle him to the ground before he could, arms wrapping around him as tightly as if he were afraid Nagisa would disappear again.
“I thought…I thought you...I thought you forgot about me!” It took Hiyori a few moments to speak properly, and even then he was hysterical. “I didn’t think you’d come back or...or that you were dead…” | e469abb2130047c89cc6caa34a6d11fe | ['94410347fe5a4060ba0517d1ac9b86f0'] | Kaoru felt something heavy smack him painfully in the face, and he fell backwards onto the now damp floor, his cheek throbbing and entirely too dizzy to even think of trying to sit up. It would be an understatement to say that he had had his senses knocked out of him.
There was a splash and the faint noise of Kanata dragging himself out of the tub. He thumped onto the ground heavily, and Kaoru could faintly hear him dragging himself over to him. It was a genuine surprise that he had not made a break for the door instead of crawling over to him.
Blue hair appeared in his peripheral vision and Kaoru slowly glanced over, still dazed as Kanata leaned over him, expression darkened with pain and guilt. “I’m sorry…” He whispered, peering down at Kaoru, almost worriedly.
“Ah, it’s okay...I just wish you wouldn’t have gone for my face. I have a date tomorrow night…” Kaoru sat up slowly, the world seeming to spin around him. “Ah, maybe I should take tomorrow off of work. I’m a bit...dizzy.”
Kanata frowned, leaning close enough to take a look at Kaoru’s face and the bruise that was beginning to form. There wasn’t really much he could do in terms of actually fixing what he had done, but he supposed there was something he could do that always made him feel better. Hesitantly, he leaned closer and gave him a very gentle kiss on the spot where his tail had crashed into Kaoru’s face. “There, now it will ‘heal’ quicker.”
Kaoru froze completely, his face blushing a deep red the moment Kanata’s lips met his face. However, he was far too dizzy to properly push him away, and so he just sat there, thinking about the feeling of Kanata’s soft lips pressed against his cheek.
“Ahhh...um, oh! Your throat. That’s right.” Kaoru mumbled, quickly focusing on something else instead of the kiss. He leaned close, ignoring how close he was to Kanata again and peered at his damaged gills.
It appeared that somehow, despite the way Kaoru had been jerked away by Kanata’s tail slap, he had managed to remove the wire without further damaging his throat. It was a major relief, although there was fresh blood welling from the wound.
“Here, let me just…” Kaoru mumbled, slowly reaching for the roll of bandages and antiseptic wipes. “This will just hurt a bit…” He moved slowly, focusing on Kanata’s gills until the world stopped spinning around him. His movements grew more confident and steady with each passing moment.
Once he was done cleaning and bandaging up Kanata’s gills, he leaned back to take a look at his tail, somewhat hesitant to get any closer. Thankfully, it seemed as if he wouldn’t have to, because the majority of the cuts on his tail were small and had already stopped bleeding.
Kanata shifted awkwardly, pulling the layers of his clothes more closely against him. Was he cold? Perhaps it was the cold breeze whooshing in from the open window. Either way, he began to shiver.
“Cold?” Kaoru asked gently, a small frown on his face. When Kanata nodded, he slowly rose to his feet and lifted him up in his arms again gently, staggering as his dizziness returned for a moment. He frowned, but slowly carried Kanata back over to the tub and set him back down in the lukewarm water.
Kanata sank into the the depths of the tub, peeking out at Kaoru from it much in the same way that a crocodile would, although without the intent to eat him. “...thank you.”
“Hm? Oh, no need to thank me. I just...didn’t want anyone to get hurt.” Kaoru awkwardly scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Will you stay ‘here’ with me?” Kanata mumbled, averting his gaze slowly.
“Ah, sure, I guess.” Kaoru replied hesitantly, sitting down by the tub with him. He sighed and rested his head on the edge of the tub and shut his eyes while Kanata sank down into the water further. It wasn’t long before they both drifted off into sleep, blissfully unaware of the adventures that had yet to come their way, and the happiness that would come with them. |
caf05c9592cb46188b32e6071ef9292e | ['9450de81e1c940b8b9390d13c15b679d'] |
1. Affection
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I always read fic of Saitama falling in love, so I thought it was Genos' turn. There will definitely be more chapters in the future and I promise it will be in a timely fashion. PROMISE.
> Thanks for reading!
It had been a lazy day; Saitama-sensei had sat down to read manga while Genos picked up the sketchbook Saitama-sensei had gotten him after he mentioned he used to draw. Since sensei had bought it especially for him, Genos had started drawing again, although being a hero sometimes kept his schedule busy enough that he was not able to sit down and draw for a time, depending on the week. But today had been a lazy day; even the monsters seemed like they wanted to curl up in a sun ray and take a nap. The afternoon was throwing a blanket of sleepiness over City Z, and that is how Genos found himself sketching Saitama-sensei’s sleeping form.
He had fallen asleep with his manga lying face-down on his chest, as if to keep his place even while he slept. Genos had ended up altering his initial drawing of sensei, since he thought this was too rare an opportunity to miss—what, with his busy schedule and Saitama-sensei’s lack of naps while Genos was present.
Watching his sensei’s face while he slept made something inside Genos soften. He had been noticing those kinds of things lately, feelings. Before he had met Saitama-sensei he had distanced himself from his emotions, focusing solely on his goal of defeating the Mad Cyborg. He had existed in a kind of fog, everything was grey, the only break in the monochrome coming from his rage, whether directed at an opponent or himself.
When Saitama-sensei showed up and destroyed Mosquito Girl Genos had been enraged at himself for almost dying because he was not strong enough, but he also had felt amazement at Saitama-sensei for defeating her so easily. He then got the idea to train under Saitama-sensei; along the way he began to rediscover some of his emotions. So even if he never grows stronger, he knows that becoming friends with Saitama-sensei was a good decision—he could not go back to living without feeling.
Genos put the finishing touches on his drawing and laid the sketch aside, but he did not move from his spot leaning against the wall; he was content to sit in silence for a while longer and just observe the sounds of bird calls drifting faintly through the open window, the way the light fell across the apartment, the slight snoring of his sensei. Genos felt happy.
Genos let his thoughts wander, soon coming to the topic of food; Saitama-sensei would probably want to decide what to have for dinner when he woke up. Genos scanned the fridge from across the room to take inventory, trying to decide if they had enough food to make something without going to the store. Genos could eat, but he did not necessarily have to. He had to have some sort of nutrients for the organic part of his body, but he could easily obtain nutrient fuel to make up for a lack of actual food. Before sensei he had practically only lived off nutrient fuel, but eating had become a social activity for Genos, so he made the switch back to food. He found he had missed it more than he realized.
They had enough food for tonight, Genos decided.
2. Butterflies
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I know this is super short, I'm sorry. I'll try and make the next chapters longer but school has me busy so I can't be sure.
> Thanks for reading!
Genos and Saitama-sensei were walking home from the store when the monster attacked. Genos’ sensors had not even registered the thing, perhaps he was too focused on the conversation he and sensei had been having, but the next thing he knew they were flying through the air. Genos landed flat on his back, his sensei above him on all fours, effectively caging Genos with his arms and legs on either side of him. Genos felt a peculiar sensation in his stomach. Saitama-sensei had already turned back to deal with the monster when Genos realized what the feeling was: butterflies.
Why did he have butterflies? Genos’ neurons were hooked up to his artificial stomach, much as they were in an organic human body, so at least he knew nothing was wrong, as he was capable of feeling things like this. The only part that did not make sense was that he _never_ felt things like this. Was it the sudden fight? He had not been prepared, so perhaps there had been a rush of adrenaline in his system that was causing the butterflies in his stomach.
“Genos?” Saitama-sensei asked, the monster destroyed behind him.
“Ah, yes sensei.” Genos stood up from the spot he had still been lying in.
As they walked home the butterflies subsided. It must have been adrenaline, which meant that Genos had felt a rush for the first time in a long time. Was he really okay?
3. To See His Smile
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Agh, another short chapter. I know for a fact the last one will be longer... Just not sure how far away from that chapter we are. Anyway.
> Thanks for reading!
“Oh, that was sad.” Saitama-sensei closed his manga and laid it aside. Genos snapped his eyes up to his sensei’s face; a small frown had formed on his lips.
“Sensei!” Genos said, concerned. “I’m sorry your manga ended. Let me make you dinner.” _To cheer you up._ Genos thought to himself.
“Ah, I’m not hungry right now.” Saitama-sensei was still frowning.
Genos frowned in return. “Well then, let me make you tea.”
“Okay.” The corner of Saitama-sensei’s mouth raised a fraction. | 1992e74e73d444f8bb08135a463a4469 | ['9450de81e1c940b8b9390d13c15b679d'] | Genos wondered what to do as he made his sensei’s tea. He needed to make Saitama-sensei happy; he could not stand to see him frown. What could he do? What usually made his sensei smile? Was there anything?
When he brought the tea out, instead of giving it to his sensei he set it on the low table, getting on his knees in front of where Saitama-sensei sat.
“Genos?” Saitama-sensei asked, sounding confused.
Wordlessly, Genos leaned forward and gently wrapped his arms around his sensei, squeezing tight once before letting go to look at Saitama-sensei’s face. His mouth turned into a genuine smile, however small.
“What was that for?” Saitama-sensei asked.
“I wasn’t sure what else to give you.” Genos said lamely.
“You don’t have to give me anything. Let’s watch TV.” Saitama-sensei turned the television to the news.
Genos did not notice the red on his own cheeks.
4. Embarrassment
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I can't seem to write anything that's even semi-long. Oh well, here's another chapter!
“Hey, Genos, you know that sketchbook I bought you? Have you drawn much in it?” Saitama-sensei asked. Evidently he had not noticed all the times Genos had been sketching while his sensei was relaxing.
“Yes, I’ve almost filled it already.” Genos replied, sitting on the floor across from Saitama-sensei.
“Ah, no way, already?” Saitama-sensei seemed impressed. “Can I see?”
Genos suddenly felt a little flustered. “O-oh, okay.” He said, taking the sketchbook from its place among his things. He suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, his fingers stroking the cover nervously.
“Here.” Genos handed his sensei the book stiffly. If he did not know better he would have thought he was embarrassed.
“Oh, these are good!” Saitama-sensei exclaimed, leafing through the pages slowly. Genos could see that most of the drawings were of his sensei, with random still-lifes thrown in of the remote or something equally boring. He felt his temperature rise even higher. Since when had he drawn so much of Saitama-sensei?
“Ha, in this one I’m sleeping.” Saitama-sensei chuckled, referring to the drawing Genos had done a few days ago when Saitama-sensei had fallen asleep while reading manga. Genos opened his mouth to say something, but he could not think of what to say, so he closed it again.
“You’re really good, Genos. You could probably make a living doing portraits.” Saitama-sensei said, clearly not considering how much money Genos had already.
“Thank you, sensei.” Genos accepted the compliment, taking his sketchbook back and hiding it with his belongings again.
“You should draw more. I’ll get you a new sketchbook.” Saitama-sensei leaned back on his hands.
“No, I can’t let you do tha-“
Saitama-sensei held up his hand to silence Genos. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Genos let out his breath, defeated. He could never win when his sensei got like this. Although, he was glad to be drawing again; he had been worried that his drawing skill would have changed irrevocably, or that his movements would not be fluid enough to draw in the way he used to, before he became a cyborg.
When he first picked up the pencil and drew a simple sketch of a butterfly he was delighted to find that his skill had not changed much—his movements were a little mechanical, but with practice he was able to train his arm to move more naturally. He had tried to draw a sketch every night since, but he was not always able to. He felt something warm settle in his stomach, this time it was a good heat.
Genos retrieved his sketchbook again, taking a charcoal pencil out and turning to a blank page. He looked up at his sensei across from him, still leaning back on his hands, watching him with slight interest.
He began to sketch.
5. Realization
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I should be doing homework right now.
> So here it is! I should get the next chapter up soon, and that will either be the last chapter or the second to last, so I guess be on the look out for that :I
Saitama-sensei had left to go to a store in City J early in the morning.
“There’s a huge sale, so I’m going to run over and see if I can get you a sketchbook, and some other things.” He had said as he left.
Genos had taken his time making breakfast for himself, feeling at peace as he watched the sunrise fill the sky with light. The morning was slightly chilly, which was a nice change from the heat of summer. When Genos was done with breakfast he set about cleaning up the apartment.
First, he addressed the kitchen, then the living/sleeping room, then the bathroom. The apartment was small enough that it only took half an hour to tidy up, and three hours if he really wanted to deep clean. He had recently given the apartment a deep cleaning, though, so he resigned himself to a day of boredom until his sensei got back home. As soon as the apartment was clean, of course.
Genos was going to put away the manga his sensei had left on the table when he was struck with some curiosity at what the story was about. Genos had never been a huge fan of manga or anime, but since he was going to be waiting around for Saitama-sensei (unless he got a call from the Hero Association), he figured it was a good way to kill time.
Genos was struck by how beautiful the art was; he usually did not enjoy manga-style artwork, he preferred realism much more, but this particular manga had a captivating style that was somewhere between, leaning toward realism. He began to leaf through the pages so he could admire the art, occasionally reading a speech bubble to get a sense of the story. |
26bc70d6ddf24876b41430616b7c862d | ['945176d926fa46629cae2f11ee22545c'] | Iruka blinked and paused, rubbing his chin. "Well, technically, the only requirement is a chuunin rank. You have to take a test and be approved, but I see no reason you shouldn't be."
Eyes shining, Naruto turned to him with excitement plastered across his face. "You think I can?!"
"Don't ask me! Hokage-sama's right here!"
"Neh, neh, granny Hokage, can I do that?!" Naruto turned and bounced up and down, excited.
Tsunade stared at him for a moment in shock before a smile bloomed across her lips. "I'll put through the paperwork tomorrow. You can test with this month's batch of hopefuls."
"Awesome!" Naruto leapt up and punched the air, practically exuding his enthusiasm. "Didja hear that, Iruka-sensei? If I get past the test then I'll work with you!"
"You certainly will," Iruka replied, grinning.
* * *
Both children and adults milled around the Academy halls, walking around in pairs of three or four to various classrooms. Naruto had already met Boshi's mother, a kind-hearted if exhausted woman who'd pulled him in for a hug and thanked him for bringing her son's grades up.
Buki's parents were two stone-faced clanless shinobi who had had him sweating through the whole interview, not trying to intimidate him but doing so anyway through their sheer stoic-faced-ness. He'd seen them both ruffle their son's hair later, however, so he at least knew they weren't completely ice-cold.
He slipped in between the crowded hallways with a clipboard in his hand, looking for Aki's- the one who reminded him of Hinata- parents. Because he was a foreigner, Gaara wasn't required to meet parents, but Naruto spotted his friend letting a little girl drag him by the hand to meet hers anyway. With a beam, he waved over the children's heads before he lost sight of him.
Temari was explaining what wind chakra was to a pair of confused civilian women who'd come to pick up their daughter, as the girl in question Temari suspected would be a great wind user in the future. Kankuro was off somewhere getting coffee; Naruto didn't really know.
"Oof! Sorry," he apologized as he bumped into someone. The man he'd collided with whirled around, and Naruto nearly dropped his clipboard in surprise. "Eh? Asuma-sensei? What're you doing here?"
Asuma smiled around his cigarette, having been trying to put it away as several women gave him dirty looks. "Here for Konohamaru."
"Ah." Hiruzen flashed through his mind, making Naruto wince.
"Heard you were becoming a sensei. Giving up on Hokage, then?" Asuma raised an eyebrow teasingly.
"No way, old man! Nothin' says a teacher can't be Hokage too." Naruto stuck his tongue out, making the jounin chuckle lightly.
"Well, good luck. I gotta find Iruka somewhere in this mess." They both sweatdropped as Asuma tried to shimmy through the crowd, his bulkier frame making it more difficult than for the civilians.
"Naruto-sensei!" He turned when he heard Yuma calling his name. She stood in the doorway of a mostly empty classroom, waving with a bright smile. "Over here!"
Naruto made a beeline through the crowd for her, darting into the classroom and breathing a sigh of relief when he spotted only another parent-teacher pair at the far end. A woman sat at the desk, checking her watch- she had the same orange hair Yuma did, in the same style. "Koguchi-san?"
The woman glanced up. Her eyes landed on him, and instantly, her expression shifted from a semi-friendly one to a dark scowl. A pit of anxiety formed in Naruto's stomach as Yuma tugged him closer.
"This is Naruto-sensei, Mama! He's so fun!" Yuma began, oblivious.
"I know who he is, Yuma." Glaring, the woman snatched her daughter away, making a confused expression settle on her face.
"What's the matter, Mama?"
"What's the matter is that _he_ shouldn't be teaching here. You don't understand because you're young, Yuma, but he's a bad influence and you should avoid him."
"K-Koguchi-san," Naruto began, swallowing. Rather than being angry, as he might have several months ago, he just felt apprehensive. "If we could just talk about Yuma's grades-"
" _We_ will not be talking about anything." Koguchi stood swiftly from her chair and locked a hand around her daughter's. "As long as you're at this Academy, she won't be attending."
Naruto's stomach flipped. "What? Do you mean-"
"I'm pulling her out as long as you- you- you _freak_ teach here," the woman bit out, raising her voice. A few heads peeked in the doorway, and heat rose to Naruto's cheeks.
"Is there a problem here?" As if he'd been summoned, Iruka slid in with a calm expression, but his eyes were sharp.
"My daughter will not attend this Academy as long as _he_ works here," Koguchi scowled.
"Ma'am, be reasonable-"
"Absolutely not! How could you think of employing this, this, this-"
"The hell's going on in here?" Kankuro stormed in, ready to join the argument.
Naruto bit his lip and turned his eyes to the floor. Just like that, his 'furry little problem' had ruined something else for him. He hadn't wanted something this much in a long, long time- but he wasn't willing to ruin Yuma's future, even if all the other parents were fine with him being there, to get it.
"Ma'am, you're causing a-"
"-You can't just-"
"-I'm taking her out if he teac-"
"That won't be a problem."
The three paused, glancing at him as Yuma watched with wide eyes. "What?" Iruka parroted.
"I was only here as a substitute." For the first time in his life, Naruto acted as a true shinobi, face completely blank and hiding all traces of emotion he felt. "This was my last day. There's no need to pull your daughter out of school. I won't be coming back."
Yuma's mother relaxed. "Good," she said with a scowl, tugging Yuma to her.
"Bu-but Naruto-sensei-" she began, lip wobbling.
"Enough! He is not your sensei," Koguchi snapped, pulling her out the door. | 785290d1cf994c0ca307da01c33ee950 | ['945176d926fa46629cae2f11ee22545c'] | “Uchiha-” It was hard to read the man when he couldn’t see, but he heard him take a step forward. He reacted on instinct and shoved himself backwards, expecting another tree behind him. The blank air behind quickly disproved his expectation. “-Shit!”
Sasuke braced for impact with the ground and found the reason the Nidaime had sworn when he didn’t hit anything. The branch he’d been standing on had been overlooking a cliff.
There were a few fleeting moments before he crashed into ice cold water head-first, panic taking hold of him when he realized he didn’t know which way was up. He’d had no way to gage how far away he was from the surface on the way down and had accidentally inhaled a gulp of water that made him sputter. He coughed and activated his Sharingan on instinct, causing a bolt of blinding pain in his forehead seeing as his surgery had been mere days ago and he was still recovering. The combination of it all left him disoriented and rapidly losing consciousness; the last thing he felt was a pair of hands grabbing hold of him.
* * *
There was a blessed warmth in the air around him when he came to that he could attribute to the crackle of a fire he could hear. Without thinking, he sat up and reached for his kunai pouch, only to find it gone. It had probably fallen off in the river.
“You’re in no danger,” the same voice from before told him. He turned his head and followed it as best he could; he estimated that the man was sitting across from him, and by the slight echo and by the sound of rain outside, that they were in some sort of cave. “Assuming you don’t attack me, anyway.”
Sasuke frowned. “Why’d a Senju save me from drowning?”
Tobirama snorted. “I may be a Senju, child, but I would not let a stripling drown. So far you’ve done nothing overtly aggressive, unless you count that small town you and your friend demolished.” Sasuke cringed.
“Well it’s not like your friends and those Uchiha were going to just let us go,” he argued sourly.
“You didn’t want to return to your clan with them?”
“I don’t have a clan,” Sasuke snapped before he could stop himself. It was irrational to get angry at someone who was only acting as if Sasuke was indeed a part of the time period they were in, but he couldn’t help it.
Another moment of silence. “I take it you are not fond of them, then?”
There was some resentment towards his clan in him, Sasuke could admit. If they could have just let go of their bitterness and not tried to take over the village, they wouldn’t have been slaughtered. Itachi wouldn’t have been forced to do so. Sure, he was angry at the Hokage and the council as well for deciding on genocide as the solution, but he’d often been angry at more than one party. There was also his odd feelings of defensiveness- this Uchiha clan wasn’t _his_ Uchiha clan.
But still. Taking over the village? They couldn’t have formed a union? Complained at the Hokage and vented their anger? Formed a nice, respectable mob outside the Hokage Tower and gone on a hunger strike? Sometimes Sasuke thought his family was crazy.
“I don’t want anything to do with them,” he spat, surmising that this Uchiha clan must’ve been just as crazy as his. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t going to get attached and then have to go back to his time and be _alone._ “All they do is get angry at outsiders and then think violence is the only possible solution and look for more power when they don’t get their way and act like having a Sharingan like mine is a good thing-” He stopped himself when he realized his rant- to a _stranger-_ was revealing too much.
There was dead silence save for the rain beating on the cave walls for a minute. Sasuke sat there awkwardly, staring at a random place in the cave.
“Well, you are certainly not incorrect,” Tobirama said after a minute more, sounding halfway been bemused and mildly impressed. “Though I didn’t expect such awareness from someone who’s achieved a Mangekyo.”
He sounded a little bit disturbed now. He was probably wondering how young Sasuke had been when he had.
Feeling exhausted, Sasuke leaned against the cave wall. “Well..whatever. We’re not going anywhere. And I’d go find your teammates if you don’t want Naruto to get his hands on them.” He cringed when he realized he’d said Naruto’s name. _Bye, timeline-stability_.
“My brother insisted I try to convince you otherwise. As much as you think you and your friend can survive on your own, you’ll die within a month,” Tobirama stated bluntly, making Sasuke flinch. “It doesn’t matter how talented or powerful you are. Aligning yourself with a clan is the only method of survival. The Uchiha and the Senju are set to engage in a peace talk in two days’ time.” His tone of voice said exactly how well he thought that would go. “Thus we are not engaged in any battles. At the very least, my brother is the only one offering you a choice as of right now. Considering how many clans fight over this region, you would be unwise to ignore that.” |
a8519fe255e74fd086905aea0d95fa2e | ['94565e1d7e1a4ef693f8fb961e63afb4'] |
How Do You Name This One?
**Author's Note:**
* A translation of LINK by LINK.
> Can be regarded as Mature somehow if the reader goes imaginative.
> This is a clip of a longer work, though all you have to know is in this background, Yagi still kept his identity in secret, so the public mistook the unpretentious relationship between Yagi(true form)& Aizawa as Aizawa's adultery affair against his Quirk Marriage with All Might(empowered form) and thus turned rather hostile to him.
> Yes, in fact they'd already been married as an alpha/omega couple, though at the very beginning it had used to be just a Quirk Marriage.
Yagi Toshinori felt overwhelmingly confused by all kinds of plates, boxes, bottles, tubes and brushes on the desk.
It was at the backstage of UA Art Festival performance where he was observing Aizawa Sensei... helping his students put on their make-up.
He waited until they'd finished it and all the kids gathered aside to discuss some final touches, then walking closer to see Aizawa Sensei picking a series of blushes out and arranging them orderly like rice paddies, ready for a rapid makeup fix later. Some of these colours seemed to be so similar that Toshinori couldn't help but lean closer to get an eyeful of the arrangement.
Aizawa Kun didn't take a look at him, yet somehow smiled quietly for one second or two.
An adult male of such a height lurking around and peeping into a new world? It was supposed to be quite amusing to see. Toshinori didn't know why he suddenly got so curious about such trifles irrelevant at all to himself.
'You do put on some makeup too sometimes, don't you? ' these words just escape his lips without forethought.
'As the No.1 Lady? On certain occasions you call it protocol. '
On certain occasions. To Toshinori it meant there he could find an Aizawa Shouta with properly parted bangs, a little half ban, a tie, a shirt, unseen holster straps, and knee-high dress socks with subtle patterns...
'Which one?' Toshinori asked in a low voice, which he hoped sound still stable.
Aizawa Kun gave him a very quick glance, obviously being able to follow his train of thought. So he stopped cleaning the brushes, and pointed at one of the plates in a make-up box with the rod of a brush, the powder in which had been well used so that Toshinori could see the metal bottom underneath.
'That tint is too plain, and kinda greyish, which is ok for dealing with the media, but not for a concert on such a stage. '
'How could it possible that you know everything.' Toshinori felt a little proud of that man, 'They should have named you All-round Hero. As for me, I can hardly tell so many colours, let alone remember and use them.'
'For this time we're using cosmetics all from the same brand. Besides, there would be nothing difficult if you remember through the name of each product colour.'
This was who Aizawa Shouta is. Though he'd paid little attention while his students discussing what performance they should choose, when it took place he was as perfectly prepared as for a crucial course, just in order to back up his kids to do their best.
'So they have names ?' Toshinori got more interested. And this could also be a good chance for Aizawa Sensei to slightly show off his achievements of these research jobs behind the scenes, so he must keep pumping him about it: 'How do you name this one?' He pointed at the nearest plate on the desk.
'Torrid, suitable for cheerful young girls, is a reasonable match for Uraraka San.'
That was a kind of vivid orange colour with cute golden shimmer. Maybe in the dark stalls the audiences couldn't even notice the colour itself at all, but still they would find the girl who gave them high fives beam extremely brightly.
Then Toshinori asked one by one, looking at Aizawa Kun giving answers with a stubbornly combative vigour, until he chose a certain one and said : 'This may suit you?'
Shouta was silent for a moment, looking up to the students who were pumping themselves up, and then tilted his head beckoning Yagi Toshinori that he was to whisper in his ear. Toshinori were expecting a private comment on some kids, so he bent over obediently--
' **Or-ga-sm** ,'
Three syllables, breathed.
A pause.
'... suits me?'
When Toshinori finally came to himself, the main lights in the hall had already dimmed, and the excited chattering from the distant crowd made his brain buzzing even worse. Actually Aizawa Kun was gazing at him seemingly innocently, as if waiting for his reply.
'Or, or what?'
'Hopefully, All Might San, you may find this one better. '
'Which is...?' He was not looking at it. It was too dark to see the colour clearly anyway. Now that Aizawa Kun's pupils dilated in such a glimmer of light and the corner of his pale lips faintly curled up, how could he see anything else without a third eye?
' **Su-per Orgasm**. Implying dripping sweaty.'
Toshinori began to know he would die of Aizawa Shouta, right here, right now. He was not shuddering, was he ?
'Or,' Aizawa Kun pushed him for more, 'would you like to have a try on some one? I know there is something challenging and addictive for a new beginner.'
'As long as... you... enjoy it too.'
' **Deep, Throat**. Welcomed by everyone. Will All Might San get interested in it?'
The lights went brighter and it was time for the host to give instructions and introductions.
Aizawa Kun reached out for the indicated plate but Toshinori forestalled him by laying a hand on his. | 998f211dedbe4b4a9b3e642606621b25 | ['94565e1d7e1a4ef693f8fb961e63afb4'] |
Aizawa San
**Author's Note:**
> Again, strange and incorrect English warning.
Aizawa San had been quietly living at this block in this southern State for years, alone.
At the very beginning, the neighbours all used to address him as "Mr Aizawa", according to the little family name plate —which reads "相AI澤ZAWA"— on the right side wall of his humble gate. As the only Japanese household in the town, the cottage, yard, wooden name plate as well as the Asian gentleman himself drew lots of curiosity, especially from kids nearby. They even organised an investigation group trying to gain more "intelligence" about this newly move-in, which turned out to work rather well. In several months, they found out such information:
Mr Aizawa lived, as we have mentioned, alone, though it seemed all the wandering cats passing by were warmly welcome. He looked tall and slender, with furry flyaway pure-silver hair and very heavy dark circles under his eyes, and every movements of him looked swift enough for an old man but quite strengthless; as a result, most would describe him as fragile. Still some believed he must have been pretty handsome in his youth. Other than expensive medicines and supplements he took every day and expert-level family doctors he regularly sent for, his lifestyle was simple, moderate and punctual, and some heard that he was a retired teacher. He owned no swimming pool, vehicle, statement watch, or anything seemingly valuable other than a plain ring he wore at ring finger. His spoken English was good for a foreigner. He watched TV and made phone calls and video chats, in both Japanese and English. He bought pet magazines frequently, and had the hobbit to collect almost everything shaped like a cat or with a picture of cats. Moreover, the name plate beside his gate smelled freshly cedar-like. Though seldom actively socialised with others, people found he was not indifferent, selfish, or odd at all; "Just a little bit too shy, yet absolutely a nice old fellow." the adults commented. He made it to help Emma's grandchildren who had been locked inside upstairs escape safe and sound through a path by balcony no one noticed. Sometimes a joyful lovely lady came to visit him but she denied being his daughter. And, most importantly, this visitor and the cashier of Asian Supermarket as well called him "Aizawa San" which sounded a sheer exotic title.
You know kids, even if a Japanese told them his name was Ken or something they wouldn't call him Uncle Ken anyway. What they were expecting was just something like this "Aizawa San". Cool.
Anyway within a single year all residents in those blocks started calling him Aizawa San as the kids did.
However that was in fact not the correct title for him either. Every now and then people from his past, colleagues, friends, students, sometimes even journalists also visited him and they all call him SENSEI. Yet still neighbours and Aizawa San himself were used to using just Aizawa SAN.
Those visitors from Japan somehow showed more about who this elderly man really was. The Hulk with Peter Parker's face was of course the No. One Hero himself of Japan. The scary face making babies too frightened to cry was the No. One Wealthy of Japan currently. The icy tall hottie was celebritot Shot. The short Darth Vader with a bird head is Tsukuyomi although we all called him Venom. Such figures were familiar even to the US nation. The heroes' teacher must have been a hero himself, and might had been any one.
But no one had ever asked about it. It was more than clear that an alien man chose to live at such a unnamed small nowhere wanted nothing but peace and quiet. Phantom of the past would be less welcome than the noise of midnight raindrops hitting on dried leaves and fragments of crimson, apricot, rusty brown, and amber colour of such evidence of summer days mudding on the path to his front door. Just like other common elder citizens, he always seemed to be waiting for something, or maybe someone — or if there was nothing and no one, then for Death's approaching in silence.
Aizawa San only left for the City once or twice a year. He did not drive, as his eyesight wouldn't allow him to. Passengers could see him slowly stepping onboard the earliest bus to railway station at daybreak. " Family reunion." he explained cheerfully to his acquaintances. Some said he might come to see his children who were rather busy at work in metropolis, which sounded reasonable for he always paid much attention to his own health and kinda dressed up for such short-term leaves. After all, this area itself was famous for mild climate, great environment and various sanatoria.
And at last it came that winter, which was so abnormally cold that the salt-like snow on rooves and roads didn't even melt for days. Heart attack and other peracute diseases stalked the elders under thier bedroom windows every now and then. Aizawa San decided to go visit his old friends, maybe for the last time.
"Good idea to go somewhere warmer for a while, but better not go there and back all alone." Old Tommy told him.
"Never more." he briefly laughed and left.
The winter was pretty long.
One day a group of Asians shaw up. Some glanced at them and recognized their old neighbour who was wearing a beanie with cats' ears – he was after all the tallest among them. "Aizawa San!" the townsfolks shouted. However, it was a stranger who turned behind first.
The stranger was black-haired with grey sideburns, his chin hidden in a scarf, and his figer glittering with a piece of jewelry in sunset twilight. He looked no less surprised than the townsfolks. Otherwise, when you did carefully observe it, you could see that man's hair be mixed with silver locks, his scarf the same texture and colour with the cat-eared beanie, and his hand, firmly in another man's.
Then it was clear who owned the other plain ring of the same pair, for whom those kitten items were prepared, and by whose name the little wooden plate with fresh cedar scent was carved.
"Nice to meet you, Aizawa San." so was he greeted by others, and "Welcome home, Aizawa Kun." by his man.
Aizawa San has been quietly living at this block in this southern State for years, with another Aizawa San. |
de2e50de61a742fb8fe3aa0f9291349e | ['9461e44bffa44b1f903b286df0988a5e'] | Sherlock worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Please shag me,” he asked again. If he had to listen to anymore of John’s devilish words in that sonorous voice, spontaneous combustion was very likely.
John smacked Sherlock’s ass playfully. “I’ll never tire of the great Sherlock Holmes begging me to bugger him.” he chuckled and Sherlock blushed with chagrin.
“Get on with it,” Sherlock demanded, although it was made less effective by the breathy quality of his voice.
“Mmm,” John leaned forward and inhaled against Sherlock’s pale neck as he pinned Sherlock’s legs against his chest by the thighs. Sherlock impatiently ground his exposed arse against John’s thick member. John’s eyes darkened and he grunted. He used one hand to brace himself and the other to coat his cock with lubrication. “Ah,” John groaned as he allowed himself to indulge in pleasure for a moment. After a few tight strokes of his hand, John lined himself up with Sherlock’s entrance, feeling those slender legs around his waist. With a loud inhale, he slowly thrust into Sherlock’s tight heat until he was fully sheathed. Sherlock choked on a moan. He felt so deliciously full.
John pulled out all the way and slammed back in, causing Sherlock to jerk and cry out loudly enough to rival Mrs. Turner’s married ones. The steady sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, enhanced by the creaking rock of the bed. John’s hips rolled fluidly against Sherlock’s plump ass. He picked up the pace and cried out as he felt Sherlock tighten around him. John’s head bowed as primitive instincts kicked in, causing him to thrust into Sherlock’s body with enough force to knock the head board against the wall. Sherlock’s hands scrabbled for purchase on John’s shoulders. His fingers dug into John’s flesh, but the mild pain only enhanced the pleasure.
Slam. Slam. Slam. The sound of the headboard reverberated round the room, although it was nearly drowned out by Sherlock and John’s wanton mewling and moaning. John shifted his angle slightly upward and was well rewarded for his efforts. Sherlock’s mouth fell open as he made a strangled noise. “There!” he shuddered. “Fuck. Right there. Don’t stop,” he begged shamelessly. John heeded his request and pounded his prick against Sherlock’s prostate.
“Is that it?” John rumbled. “Right there?” His gaze bore into Sherlock’s eyes and Sherlock found it impossible to look away. “So good. God, you’re so fucking good. You should see yourself right now. All blushing and taking my cock like the brilliant man you are.”
Sherlock could barely register John’s words through the haze of arousal and bliss. “Ah. Ah. Anh!” choked noises resounded deep within Sherlock’s chest. Each squelching push of John’s dick into his hole made him feel as if he were falling and flying all at once. John pulsed deep inside of him. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way Sherlock was flushing and reacting like the most beautiful thing John ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.
“I’m going to come. John! I’m going to come!” Sherlock babbled, completely unadulterated in physical rapture. His words intertwined with hoarse moans and sharp cries. His balls pulled tightly against his body and flushed red. Jesus, he was going to climax without having his prick touched at all. Sherlock’s body thrashed and spasmed as he lost control and barreled towards his peak.
“That’s it, love. So beautiful. Come for me.” John groaned and struggled to keep up the rhythm they’d established.
“Oh god!” Sherlock keened in ecstasy. “Yes! Yes!” His entire body quivered like the slow drag of his bow along his violin. He screamed, although he couldn’t hear due to the white noise and the sound of his own racing pulse in his ears. His dick pulsed, sending ribbons of come across his chest. Sherlock’s mind short circuited, unable to process anything beyond ravishment. “Oh fuck. John!” Sherlock struggled to breathe as wave after wave of excruciating pleasure wracked his body and mind. His lithe body trembled in John’s arms.
John gazed down at Sherlock, entranced by his wanton display of pleasure. Sherlock clenched around him. He was so tight. He was so wonderfully hot. John felt as if the heat would permeate his skin and burn him from the inside out. And who knows, maybe John was burning. After all, it certainly felt like it. Sherlock’s ocean blue eyes, unfocused as a result of his orgasm, were igniting a fire in his very core. He pumped a few more times. Just a little more. Then the fire consumed him. His hips stuttered and finally stilled as he spilled the evidence of his pleasure inside Sherlock. White hot bliss flooded his every nerve. “Sherlock!” John roared and quaked and simply held on to the other man as his orgasm pulsed through him.
When John and Sherlock came back to Earth, they lay intertwined and panting heavily. John rolled off of Sherlock with a grunt and lay beside him. “C’mere,” he slurred turning his head to look at the shaking mess that was Sherlock. Sherlock took a few calming breaths and then curled up halfway on top of John. He nuzzled John’s neck and sighed, feeling completely satisfied and content. John wrapped one arm around Sherlock’s waist and placed the other behind Sherlock’s head and gently ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “That was wonderful,” John murmured softly and pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock’s damp forehead. “I love you so much.” John’s voice was tender, intimate; showing emotion so strong, so central to his existence, that he wasn’t sure that he could even begin to fully express it.
Sherlock smiled into John’s neck and hummed. He felt John’s love in his chest. In his mind. His heart. It traveled through him like the blood in his veins. “I love you too,” he sighed, and it was everything John couldn’t articulate and everything Sherlock could barely handle. “Happy Christmas.”
**Author's Note:**
> So that was the first PWP I've ever posted (I've written a lot of others, they just never made it to the internet.) (Btw, I don’t know if you noticed, but John made Sherlock beg more than twice. Take that, Irene Adler.) Hope you all liked it. :) Feel free to review. Thank you for reading! | d42a52b3328c4bc4903b36ab80db54bd | ['9461e44bffa44b1f903b286df0988a5e'] |
Something Lacy
John had always enjoyed Christmas growing up though the years. He loved the ridiculously festive jumpers. The bright flickering lights. The excuse to snog people just because of a plant hanging from the ceiling. When he was young, it was the one day his parents made an effort to be cordial towards one another instead having screaming matches. Later, it was the only time his sister didn’t get so drunk she couldn’t see straight. When he was in the military, it was the one day of the year that a sense of hope prevailed in the blazing desserts of Afghanistan. Now, as he was staring at Sherlock scantily clad in lingerie and nothing else, he decided he loved it even more.
John and Sherlock had been sitting on the couch in companionable silence when the Detective rose and announced that he was going to get John’s present. When he returned, John could honestly say it was the best gift he had ever received. Sherlock was wearing sheer and lacy black pants complete with stockings, a garter belt, and a red bow placed on the waist. Sherlock’s cock was already hard in his pants, stretching the fabric.
“Christ,” his voice was hoarse with his quick and unexpected arousal. His trousers had already tightened uncomfortably due to blood rushing to his groin in what must have been record time.
“Not good?” Sherlock all but purred. His wide an innocent blue eyes contradicted his erotic get up. Clearly a clever ploy by Sherlock to knock John off his guard. And knock him off his guard it did. John was at Sherlock’s mercy.
The man in question sauntered forward, the lingerie clinging to those lovely hips. Sherlock backed John up until his knees hit the back of his chair. He then pushed John down into his chair and draped himself in John’s lap. The army doctor cleared his throat so his voice wouldn’t break embarrassingly. “Very good.“
Sherlock rolled his pelvis, causing their clothed erections to rub against each other’s in an achingly satisfying way. A little whimper tore itself from Sherlock’s throat and he nuzzled John’s neck, nipping gently at the skin. John’s hands traveled downwards and squeezed Sherlock’s lovely arse. The feeling of lace against his calloused hands was quite enjoyable indeed. John thrusted up and pulled Sherlock even closer. The ebony haired man panted and writhed in John’s grip. Before long, an exquisite wet spot of pre-come formed at the front of Sherlock’s new pants. Sherlock threw his head back and John was quick to pepper kisses on his long neck. “What do you say we ruin these pants of yours even more?” he asked huskily in Sherlocks ear. Sherlock groaned in approval, spreading his legs wider.
John stood up, scooping Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock simply wrapped his legs around John’s waist and continued to snog him relentlessly, moaning into his mouth. Sherlock’s clever tongue teasingly traced John’s lips. John retaliated by gently sucking on Sherlock’s plump bottom lip. John used one hand to support Sherlock by the arse and the other to twist his fingers in his ebony curls. Sherlock hummed in approval and pressed his lips against John’s with bruising force. John felt Sherlock’s hands lightly run teasingly up and down his back before twisting in his jumper. John stopped kissing Sherlock’s mouth and moved to his neck. He circled Sherlock’s adams apple with his tongue. John delicately brushed his lips against the side of Sherlock’s neck and sucked at Sherlock’s jawline, creating a bruise. Sherlock bit back a moan and stole John’s lips in another kiss.
Somehow, they managed to make it to Sherlock’s bedroom. John unceremoniously dumped Sherlock on to the silk sheets and admired his elegant and statuesque form. Sherlock made quite the picture. Cupid bow lips parted and swollen from kissing. Curled hair splayed out against the crisp white pillows. Pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy with lust. John’s eyes traveled lower to the main event. Sherlock’s cock was heavy and flushed behind his pants. The slick head poked out due to his growing member becoming to elongated for the form fitting underwear.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gorgeous,” John groaned and palmed his member over his jeans to relieve some of the ache.
Sherlock’s cheeks flushed in pleasure at the compliment. Trapped by his pants, his cock gave an appreciative twitch. Sherlock squirmed and ran one hand across his chest towards his cock, mewling when his hand rubbed across his pert nipple. He refrained from fondling his erection, however. His eyes stared up at John; questioning.
“Touch yourself, love,” John instructed, the authority of Captain Watson revealing itself. “I want to see you stroke that beautiful prick of yours.”
“Unh,” Sherlock exhaled sharply. He reached underneath his pants and took himself in hand. “Oh,” he gasped as he gave himself a slow upstroke and teased the pulsing tip of his cock with his thumb. He moaned gutturally and canted his hips up into his hand. That plump bottom lip was pulled into his mouth and a strangled whine escaped his teeth. Sherlock’s free hand tangled in the bedding for a brief moment, before moving to tease his nipples. His strokes became faster and more enthusiastic. John watched Sherlock’s little display with hungry eyes. Fuck, he was alluring. “Stop,” John suddenly ordered and swiped his tongue across his top lip. Sherlock stopped his motions with a small whine. |
5ac3d014dacc4c969998cbb641c6a869 | ['9470315c291b4ac0b1a4ccfc6ca7d098'] | “Its, uhh. Its me, Jasmine.” The silence hung in the air for just a moment. “Or, uhm, at least as you know me. My- my real name is.. Ralph.”
Shrek said nothing.
“Listen, I know I’m not Jasmine, not even close, I don’t know why I did it. I wasn’t even going to meet you but something…” The words just kept falling out of his mouth, not even giving himself time to breathe. “You said today that you don’t care about what I look like, you said that its who I am on the inside, yes? I know I’m not a princess, I’m an oaf. But something about you, made me want to come. I’m sorry. This is who I am.”
The silence hung for just another moment. Then it dropped. In one deft movement of the hand, Shrek raised his hand and slapped Ralph across the face, turned, and walked away.
“I can’t believe Donkey talked me into this.” He mumbled under his breath.
“No please!” Ralph shouted. He reached out to grab Shrek’s hand and he walked away. The entire restaurant was silent. All eyes were on him. “Please.” He said once more, softly this time. “Just give me a chance.”
Shrek looked him square in the eye. “Outside. Now.”
Outside, after a moment to process what just happened, Shrek finally got a chance to check out the man who was apparently his date for the evening. He was a tall man, taller than he was, wearing orange flannel and brown overalls, either hastily put one, or broken because it was flapping on one side. In the dark he couldn’t tell which. He had a slightly roundish face topped with a hazel colored mop of a hairstyle, but by no means was he overweight. Far from it, he had the figure of a body builder.
It was, Shrek thought to himself for a moment, kind of working for him. He caught himself. He steeled his face, looked Ralph in the eyes and asked him the question that’s been running through his head this whole time.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I,” Ralph started. “I was afraid. I mean, look at me. You think anyone wants this? I’m a hulking buffoon who can’t walk two feet without knocking something over.”
Shrek still stared at him, waiting.
“I thought maybe, at least I can talk to people online, meet some new friends, maybe. Maybe something might happen. I never intended for this to go this far. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”
Shrek stood there for a moment, thinking. Ralph only looked at him with a slight pout on his face. God, it was cute. Without warning, Shrek indulged himself. He brought Ralph into his thick embrace and locked lips with that son of a bitch. The sexy juice was flying all over between them.
Barely having any time to breathe between them, they took turns shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. It was pure bliss. Shrek felt something press against his leg. He took a mental inventory. He felt one of Ralph’s thick meaty hands rapped around his head, pulling him in closer. He felt the other hand firmly around his own ass, squeezing it for dear life. So what was against his- oh.
Slowly, Shrek pulled away from Ralph’s beautiful face and slid his hands down Shrek’s chest and into his pants. He is dick could only get so erect. Shrek’s hand on Ralph’s juicy meat sick. Oh god, it was so big. That moved the needle.
Shrek fell to his knees immediately, pulled that thick log out of Ralph’s pants, and started jerking it for all it was worth.
“Oh god.” Ralph moaned. “It feels so good.”
Shrek pulled Ralph’s member just inches from his face, and started slurping that juicy cock down. He was THROWING THAT NECK. He was eating that good good man lasagna, having the time of his life.
“I’M CUMMING.” Ralph shouted. He pulled his ole one eye out of Shrek’s mouth and jerked it for just a second. Shrek waited, on his knees, begging for his sticky cum all over his face. Ralph unloaded. Shrek’s face was covered in the juicy man goo. He guzzled it down like Pac Man at a bukkake. It tasted slightly of pineapples.
Shrek stood up and whispered into Ralph’s ear.
“Please, my asshole. He’s dying.” He dropped his pants and bent over. "Ralph, this is my first time, please be gentle."
"Your asshole?" Ralph asked. "I'M GONNA WRECK IT."
Ralph and Shrek went at it like two baboons who just figured out the Sunday sale at Macy’s is over. The sound of Ralph’s balls slapping Shrek’s ass was deafening. At this point, they’ve drawn a pretty considerable crowd. Everyone was cheering.
After several hours of sweet passionate lovemaking, both Shrek and Ralph climaxed at the same time. They were spent. The crowd was going ape shit. They loved it. Seth Myers himself came out of the crowd to give them an Academy Award for Best Everything. They’ve done it.
Donkey married Shrek and Ralph on a hot summer’s day, one month after their passionate lovemaking session. And they lived happily ever after.
**Author's Note:**
> i hate my life. | d9deba1ed7a242aebe0c86c9b7ad36d2 | ['9470315c291b4ac0b1a4ccfc6ca7d098'] |
A Forbidden Romance
“I cant believe this is really happening”, thought Shrek to himself. “After Fiona died, I never thought I would get back into dating.” He fumbled with his tie. He had to look good for his date.
After Fiona died from a dragon attack, Shrek’s life went into a downward spiral of drugs and depression. He was a mess. After a DUI arrest, his swamp got foreclosed and that’s when he knew he needed to get his life in order. He checked into rehab and began the lengthy process of rebuilding his broken life.
He thought back to how he got to where he’s standing right now, waiting at the bar for his beautiful date to arrive.
“You gotta get back out there, man!” said Donkey, at Shrek’s new apartment, one week prior. “You can’t wait for any bimbo without a brain to throw herself at you!”
“Yeah, but…” Shrek trailed off.
“But what?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready. I _loved_ Fiona. I’m not ready to let go.”
“Come on man!” said Donkey, with some annoyance growing in his voice. “It’s been three years. You need to let go.” He grabbed Shrek’s phone.
“What are you doing! Give that back!”
“I’m downloading an app.” He fumbled with the phone for a moment.
“What app.”
“It’s called Tinder. It’s how people meet each other nowadays. Just _try_ it, you’ll love it. I promise.”
Shrek and Donkey spent the rest of the night creating a profile, finding the perfect pictures, and swiping through a bunch of beautiful princesses. A few matches, but nothing great.
“I don’t know man,” said Shrek, hesitantly. “I’m still not entirely sure about this.”
“Just trust me!” assured Donkey. “Give it a little while, you’ll have a bunch of fly honeys macking on you in no time. “
After one more round of assurances and drinks, they parted ways for the night. And Shrek thought to himself, that would be the end of this night and this stupid app, once and for all.
* * *
Over the next week, Shrek opened the app two or three more times, but no one ever really stood out. His frustration growing, he brought up the screen to delete the app many times, but just couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. He knew something special was just around the corner.
One day after his nine hour shift at McDonald’s, it happened. On his break, between bites of his juicy McChicken sandwich, he checked his phone to see he had a new notification: “Tinder: You have a new match! Open to find out who.”
Almost frantically, he opened the app. His eyes were greeted with one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen, Jasmine.
> Jasmine: “hey :)”
There she is. Waiting. Waiting for me. Shrek’s heart fluttered.
“No,” Shrek thought. “I can’t do that. I still love Fiona.” He closed the app and went back to work.
Later that night, he couldn’t get Jasmine out of his mind. Restless and unable to sleep, he gave into temptation.
> Shrek: “Hey! what’s up?”
>
> The reply was almost instant.
>
> Jasmine: “Nothing much!”
>
> Jasmine: “Up a little late aren’t we?”
>
> Shrek: “haha you’re right. I just got out of work.”
>
> Shrek: “couldn’t sleep”
>
> Shrek: “what’s up”
>
> Jasmine: “I’m just happy a handsome man like yourself is talking to me :)”
>
> Shrek: “well, you’re not too bad on the eyes yourself either, haha”
And like that, the conversation continued well into the early morning. They hit it off instantly. The days passed and soon they talk more and more until they were almost always in conversation. Finally the day came, they set up a date and they were going to meet. A few hours before they were going to meet, Jasmine messaged him.
> Jasmine: “I don’t know if I can go through with this…”
>
> Shrek: “what? why!”
>
> Jasmine: “I should be… honest with you”
>
> Shrek: “what do you mean?”
>
> Jasmine: “I look… different than what you think I do.”
>
> Shrek: “that’s ok! I don’t care!”
>
> Shrek: “I like you for who you are, not what you look like. i’m just glad to see you.”
>
> Jasmine: “ok… just don’t be surprised when you see me. ok?”
>
> Shrek: “ok, see you soon!”
And so, he put on his best shirt and a tie, made his way to the restaurant and waited for his date to show. He waited and waited for what seemed like hours.
“Would you like a menu, sir?” asked the waiter.
“No thanks…” stammered Shrek. “I’m- uh. kinda waiting for someone.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The restaurant was fairly empty; empty enough, at least, to see everyone there.
“Had I missed her?” Shrek thought, frantically. “Am I early? Is she just late? Am I being stood up? Oh god, I’m being stood up. I shouldn’t have done this. I’m so dumb.” All these thoughts swirling around in his head, he couldn’t think straight. He laid his head down on the table. She wasn’t showing up.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous thud at the front door. A ginormous, muscular man, seemingly unaware of his own size bumbled into the restaurant, knocking over almost everything that wasn’t bolted down to the table in his wake.
Shrek looked up, startled. He locked eyes with the mysterious stranger for a second, and for a moment, Shrek noticed, the man’s face lit up before he composed himself once again. Shrek was… confused.
He heard his name being called. It was the man. He stood up.
“How do you know my name?” At once, the man lost the bubbly composure. Nervously, he replied. |
a12d3a06a09042a3a85d144635b3ac79 | ['9474feacce8e461dbb294ce86a8e6591'] | But before he can think of anything, Pete gets up to leave--but first he has to search the cushions where he was sitting because his phone’s not in his pocket, but maybe it’s on his bus, except he thinks he had when he came over here, and it’s a whirlwind before he finds it in the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, By the time that’s sorted, Joe is already gone, without a word, and then Pete hugs him tight and follows. They presumably send Andy back over, but by that point, Patrick’s safely ensconced himself in his bunk. He’s had his fill of ambushes and awkward conversations for the day.
They’re playing the last shows of the tour, now, and they’re all a little burnt out. Ashlee flies out for the final dates; she’s staying on the bus with Joe and Pete, and usually, that would drive Joe into Patrick’s orbit more often, giving the lovebirds some privacy, but this time he seems to be busying himself elsewhere altogether.
It sucks.
Patrick’s been in this weird limbo since Vegas where he wants to be around Joe pretty much all the time but then, when he is, he can barely open his mouth because he’s sure he’ll go off-script and say something humiliating. The more he dwells on it, the heavier it feels, like it’s a secret that’s grown exponentially--from the spreadsheet to the jerking off to the love part--and the more he tells himself to act normally around Joe, the further out of reach normal becomes. He’s spent a lot of time, over the past week, finding reasons to leave the room when Joe talks to him, because Patrick can feel the words waiting to come out: “ _I spend a lot of time thinking about you when I touch my dick,_ ” or “ _Pete says you have sex toys on the bus; can I see?_ ” or, worse, this running loop of “ _I love you I love you be with me I love you._ ” So he scurries away but he can’t _stay_ away, he’s like an addict, and he ends up sidling awkwardly back into Joe’s space again as soon as he can.
Except now, when he goes looking for Joe, to get his fix, Joe’s just...gone. When they’re not in transit or on stage, he’s nowhere to be found--not on his bus with Pete and Ashlee, not on Patrick’s bus, and his hotel rooms always seem empty. Patrick even tracks down James the tech, in case they’re playing hacky-sack, but James is with his girlfriend (and surprisingly testy about having to answer the door shirtless, _sheesh_ , put a sock on the knob if you don’t want company).
Patrick didn’t notice, really, how much Joe was _around_ , this tour, even with his online dating exploits, until he isn’t. His sudden absence leaves Patrick miserable and alone; Pete’s busy with Ashlee, Andy’s avoiding him, and Joe’s doing god knows what...dating? Clubbing? Groping some dude in a men’s room somewhere while bad techno music plays in the background?
It’s making Patrick uneasy, but he stomps those feelings down. It’s the very end of tour; they’re all exhausted. Joe’s probably just...napping a lot. Or something. Patrick’s kind of crazy with exhaustion himself, possibly, kind of out of his mind (evidence: _Andy’s_ avoiding him). He feels like a wind-up toy, a little mechanical monkey with a drum, and this tour, this Joe thing...it’s just been cranking and cranking the key in his back until his head’s about to pop off.
But they’ll be home soon. It’ll be good, it’ll be...Patrick can sleep at his own house, take a few days to finalize the flowchart. Talk to Joe away from this craziness--and maybe it’ll even bump his chances of success up to 29%, if they’re, like...well-rested.
He closes Excel (saves everything, of course, and a backup copy). Throws himself into their last two shows. Apologizes to Andy. Starts collecting his shit from every nook and cranny of the bus--standing over his suitcase with two of his t-shirts in one hand and one of Joe’s flannel shirts in the other, he almost feels excited. There’s an end date to the madness, and he’ll have time alone to lick his wounds if it goes badly, and…at least he won’t be trapped on this fucking bus, watching Joe scroll through OKCupid. He’s not sure if it’s optimistic or pathetic that he tucks the flannel in with his clothes--he doesn’t dwell on it as he’s doing it, like that will make it easier to pretend it was an accident later--but he’s almost cheerful when he zips the bag closed.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The song that is playing while they eat their tacos is Lento (Unplugged) by Julieta Venegas, which you can listen to LINK, if you're so inclined.
3. Chapter 3
In LA, Patrick takes a few days to crash in his own bed. There’s something about being home that normalizes everything, makes him feel a little more balanced and a little less frantic and crazy, and on their third day post-tour when Joe texts him to follow up on his missing shirt and Patrick texts back _oops it ended up in my stuff_ and _pick it up whenever, i’m home all day_ he thinks maybe this is his chance.
He spends the afternoon tidying up the explosion of luggage in his living room, and then taking a shower (extra-close shave, double layer of deodorant). Then he collapses on the couch and pretends to read a book, glancing up every time he hears a car make the turn onto his street. After 45 minutes, his neighbor pulls into her driveway and Patrick almost vibrates off his seat, he’s wound so tight, and it’s honestly so pathetic that he feels vaguely disgusted with himself. | 62dab22a8d24400bbdefe8c541f4efa0 | ['9474feacce8e461dbb294ce86a8e6591'] | There are men and ladies on the screen, but other than all being human, it’s hard to see any sort of common thread. The first profile picture, for example, is a woman who Patrick suspects is retired and living on social security benefits. She’s followed by a 20-something dude on a dirtbike, and then a Japanese-American single mother.
“Okay, first,” Patrick says, scrolling around, looking for a “settings” button, “No wonder all your dates have been weirdos. Can’t you set some sort of filters? Like--no offense to Muriel there, but is she really what you’re looking for?”
Joe laughs. “She likes to bake in her free time! And she’s Jewish, dude. My mother would love her.”
“Yeah, if they met at bridge club. Not if you brought her home as your new girlfriend.” Patrick finds the advanced search page and skims over the options. “See, you don’t even have an age range set. What kind of approach is this, even?”
“I don’t know, man,” Joe shrugs. “I’m a big-hearted guy. I’ve just been...sending out interest, into the world. I figure the worst that can happen is I’ll meet a lot of interesting guys and dolls, you know? Like...jumping in the deep end isn’t all that bad. _You_ could think about maybe just dipping a toe--”
“Yeah, okay Sinatra,” Patrick cuts him off. “But if it’s not going the way you want, maybe you should start by rethinking your ‘big love’ philosophy--be a little choosier? I mean, have you figured out what you actually _want_?”
Joe’s looking straight at Patrick and he pauses for beat, then looks away to answer. “Yeah. I mean...I think so.”
“Okay…?” Joe doesn’t say anything, seems focused on picking at the near-threadbare knee of Patrick’s pajama pants. Patrick manfully ignores it even though it tickles...or something like tickling. “So, you’re on the Enterprise, programming your perfect relationship into the holodeck. What are you looking for?”
It startles Joe into laughing and he rubs one hand over his face. “Oh, dude...if I could program anything I wanted? You have no idea.”
Patrick snorts as he considers his own hypothetical question; the possibilities spin out before him and then slowly narrow in on Joe. He tries not to blush, shakes his head like he can chase the thought away. Moving on. “Close to your age, presumably?”
Joe’s still covering his eyes, and he drops his hand at that, clears his throat. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay. There we go.”
Patrick rattles off a list of further criteria to narrow down Joe’s choices: with kids? No kids? Straight? Gay? Bi? Joe answers, Patrick clicks, and eventually they’re left looking at a much more appropriate selection of potential dates.
“Okay,” Patrick says. “What about...Lauren?” Her profile photo shows a pretty girl, curly haired and on horseback, with strikingly big blue eyes. She and Joe would probably have beautiful kids, Patrick thinks bitterly, while Joe skims her bio. They’d buy a ranch somewhere. Joe would start wearing even more flannel, and call everybody ‘hoss’ and Patrick gets _asthma attacks_ around _hay_ , okay, he wouldn’t even be able to visit them, and their kids would call him Uncle City Slicker, probably, or something meaner and cleverer.
“Meh,” Joe says, eventually.
“ _Meh_?” Patrick repeats, disbelievingly, even as the mental image of himself falling off a horse mid-sneeze fades from his mind. But still--“Muriel got a better reaction than this girl? She’s cute! And age-appropriate!”
“Yeah, but she says her hobby is ‘hanging out’. Like...really? That’s all she could come up with?” Patrick doesn’t see the problem with ‘hanging out’--Joe burst into this very hotel room this very evening to insist on hanging out--so he keeps up the skeptical side-eye.
After a moment, Joe shrugs and looks away, down at his fingers which start fiddling with the hem of Patrick’s t-shirt, near his hip, pleating it up and then smoothing it out. “That’s so...uninspired. I like someone who’s got _interests_ , you know? Someone who’s got their own thing going on that they’re passionate about.” He catches himself and pulls his hand away from Patrick’s waist.
Patrick blinks three times before he can think of a response that is _at all_ germane to the conversation. “She’s sitting on a horse…” he eventually offers. “Maybe that’s her hobby?”
“Livestock?” Joe says, wrinkling his nose. “Meh.”
Patrick backs them out of Lauren’s profile. “Okay,” he says, fighting for even-toned and maybe hitting dazed, at best. “Passionate about interests. No livestock. Noted.”
Joe isn’t looking at the computer screen, he’s watching Patrick, and Patrick reaches clumsily for his beer and tries to break the tension in his gut with a big gulp. He’s helping a friend, here--he shouldn’t react to that with lecherous thoughts just because his thigh is pressed against Joe’s side.
He puts his beer down and pulls back a bit, resettling the laptop between them and moving the cursor to someone named Brian next--Brian is wearing a tie in his profile pic and standing in front of a shiny black car.
His bio seems promising at first, and Patrick is all business about evaluating it, because he is being a good friend and not a weirdo perv. Brian is a banker, 27 years old, and he mentions salsa dancing three times in two paragraphs. Patrick can’t really picture Joe learning Latin ballroom, but it probably passes the hobbies test. The very last line, though, says, _looking for a leather daddy_ , and Patrick reads it twice and then clears his throat loudly.
“Um…” he says, aiming for tactful. The giggles are seeping out, though. “So...what do you think?”
Joe elbows him, catching him in the hip. “Probably not.”
“I didn’t want to assume!” Patrick laughs. “I mean, you could have this whole...salsa dancing, assless chaps other life that I don’t know about…” |
29e0e5edf1ab4373a7a51fec328bd5c3 | ['9484f5b20c35434fa9f7d7d5f15408a5'] | “Okay listen. This is getting really weird, really fast. The alcohol is probably draining off inside me as we speak so consider this is your warning. I’m a hundred percent more irritable when I’m sober so you need to stop with your crazy childish bullshit and just start making out with me like a normal person before I kick you out. Deal?” Derek takes a deep breath to calm himself and looks up to see Stiles’ reaction.
A wide eyed Stiles’ jaw drops slowly and he just stares at Derek in surprise. But he doesn’t say anything.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just- you’re just _finally_ turning me on.”
Derek scoffs, genuinely offended. “What do you mean finally? Then why are you even h–” he’s cut off when Stiles crawls forward and frames Derek’s legs with his own. He uses both hands to grab Derek’s neck and lean in for a kiss and Derek’s hands crawl down his chest, grabbing and staying idle at his waist. Stiles moves their lips together hungrily as he nudges forward enough for Derek to lean back on the headboard.
It’s not different from their time at the club, but it’s also not the same. At the club there were blinding lights and deafening music that crowded all his senses. But now all he can do is focus on the rush. Not even just the feel of lips on his own or that Stiles is laying on top of him, but the warmth that comes with two people so close in every single way, and the rush that’s forming in the pit of his stomach in the suddenly too quiet room. It’s all overwhelming to the point that Derek almost wants to give up all cognitive thought and just let Stiles do whatever he wants.
Derek decides he’ll start there and see where it goes.
After Stiles has had his fill of Derek’s lips, he stares them down and pecks them as in ‘ _I’ll see you guys later_ ’ and moves down and along his neck. He doesn’t waste much time on his chest before he shimmies them both down the bed until Derek lays on his back and Stiles is face to crotch. Derek doesn’t remember if he trimmed his pubes lately. He really can’t stand non-tidy jungles but may be stiles won’t mind.
He’s pulling blindly on Derek’s underwear as he nips and licks at his happy trail. Judging by how frantically he pulls them down and tosses them across the room, Derek concludes he’s pretty eager for this. It’s confirmed when he immediately greets Derek’s hard dick with an eager tongue and a high pitched moan that actually impresses Derek. He doesn’t stop there though, he opens his mouth further and takes as much of Derek in as possible.
Derek realizes that the whines he’s hearing are his own, and it’s not very sexy of him. He closes his mouth and throws his head back, just to let himself _feel_. One of his hands wander across his own chest and the other plays with Stiles’ hair.
But for some reason Stiles snaps out of his task and looks annoyed, “Dude your dick is so nice, it’s distracting.”
Derek rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn’t even want to know what he means by that. “Well if you could just- FUCK-OW- Mother of...” Derek lifts his head to look down only to find Stiles holding a spoon and hovering it over Derek’s lower belly where the patch of hair begins. There’s a puddle of ice cream visibly melting as Derek shivers. “What the hell?”
“What? You’ll like it, trust me, just be patient.”
“Not even a warning?” He asks, but then he doesn’t care anymore because _oh._
Stiles still has a grip on Derek’s dick but his focus is directed at licking off all the ice cream with that _hot as fuck tongue of his_. Once he gets every last bit, he settles on one spot where he nips and suckles as if his life depended on it. Derek honestly doesn’t know how but Stiles’ mouth is suddenly scorching hot and it feels so good in contrast to his ice cold skin.
Sitting up, Stiles grabs the handcuffs and straddles Derek’s upper chest as he reaches for his arms.
“Uhm, wait I don’t…”
Stiles just looks down at him questioningly, apparently feeling Derek’s sudden tension because he lowers the handcuffs to his lap and waits for a response. That’s probably the closest he’ll get to asking for consent, and Derek _doesn’t_ _not_ want to do it, so he just takes three deep breaths and offers up his hands.
With a proud smile, Stiles takes them and handcuffs Derek to the headboard of his bed.
He sees Stiles reach for the tub again and tilts his head back, closing his eyes like before, because if the surprise of the ice cream falling for the first time felt good, then so what?
For the next however long, Derek moans uncontrollably, and spews gibberish thanks to god as Stiles continues up his chest with more ice cream. Derek is sure it’s all falling both ways down the side of his chest but all he cares about is Stiles’ expert mouth as it worships every last square inch until he reaches Derek’s nipples.
Derek isn’t sure if he wants ice cream _there_ but before he can voice any concerns, he feels something else dripping all over his pecs. Stiles moans louder at this point, and the fact that he’s enjoying this as much as he is just makes it all that much better. | dc774b2a7ba1467eaf5488397f6e353b | ['9484f5b20c35434fa9f7d7d5f15408a5'] | He’s once again ninety five percent naked, with a small towel wrapped around his midsection and Derek considers taking the unsaid invitation to run his eyes over every contour of his body – his very fresh looking and glistening body – but he doesn’t. If he does, then it’s when he’s sure Stiles isn’t noticing. “I did get you some clothes.” He reaches over to the table and grabs the neatly folded pair of skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. “I hope they fit,” he says, not really meaning it.
Stiles smiles. It’s genuine and it almost gives Derek whiplash because wasn’t he just acting like an asshole earlier in the bedroom? “Thanks.” He grabs the pile and starts to put on the shirt. Turns out, Stiles is more in shape than he looks, because the sleeves stick to his upper arms like tape and his cute little pecs actually give dimension to Isaac’s otherwise plain shirt.
He starts to put on the jeans, leaning forward to place each foot into the right leg. Derek tries to distract himself with picking up random dishes around the kitchen and putting them in the sink so that he isn’t tempted to do something inappropriate and counter intuitive. “So, you want to stay for some breakfast?” he doesn’t know why he’s asking and he doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.
“Sorry, I’ve got somewhere to be, remember? It’s my dad actually. I’ve got uh… to meet him for brunch and you know how parents are, really picky with punctuation. So um. I’m sure you understand. I’ll be on my way now.”
Derek really wants to roll his eyes. Its eight thirty in the morning and Stiles is in a hurry to meet his dad for _brunch_. He’s seriously better off without this guy in his life, when is the next train out of here so he can throw him on board?
He follows him out of the kitchen as Stiles laughs nervously. “Jesus, I hope I at least remembered to wear shoes last night…” Stiles looks around for them and Derek simply walks over to the couch where he saw Stiles chuck them the night before and holds them up. “Oh yes! Thank you.”
He bends down to put the shoes on and Derek changes his mind. He now wants to lock five deadbolts on each possible escape route just to keep that luscious ass hostage.
Walking up to the front door, Stiles hesitates, questioning silently why Derek’s leaning against the door protectively.
Derek rolls his eyes at this stupid game of _who can make this more awkward_ and just grabs him by the hips. He spins Stiles around just before he locks their lips together and presses his body fully against his and onto the door.
Unlike earlier, Stiles participates in the kiss. Warily yet eagerly sucking on Derek’s bottom lip as he tongues at his upper one. He even grabs Derek’s head between his two hands and roughly plays with Derek tousled beard.
After they’re breathless, Derek pulls away and it’s awkward again when they’re too close to look into each other’s eyes. “You’re kind of a jerk.”
Stiles blinks, unsure if he should be offended, but Derek continues, “I believe that your dad is a cover up story and that you can’t be bothered with explaining the real story because you’re not planning on coming back. But you know what? I had a nice time last night. You’ve got a really great body so… thanks.” Derek’s extracts himself completely from Stiles’ hold and takes three slow steps back. And then another two, because well, that didn’t exactly come out as he’d hoped. _At all. Fuck._ Now Derek sounds like a pompous little whiney bitch who doesn’t know when to take a hint.
~~~
Derek’s Day doesn’t get any better. After he gives up on all thoughts of breakfast and beelines for his bedroom, he spends the next three hours cleaning up the place. He changes the sheets _again_ because he wants to get rid of any evidence of Stiles being there. He ends up cleaning the living room and the kitchen as well, messes that have been there for many days before. He even tidies up Isaac’s room a little, which reminds him that he stole his clothes to give to Stiles… Fuck.
Derek grabs a hundred dollar bill from his emergency cash box and places it on Isaac’s desk. Yea, that would work. He considers writing a note with it, but anything he would say to explain the situation would spark questions that he isn’t prepared to answer.
Now he has to think about the fact that he’s already late on starting the assignment his boss had given him the day before, the very reason that caused Derek to literally go crazy and pick someone up from a strip club.
But he needs some Advil first.
~~~
Derek is deep in his work. He’s making and remaking plans, searching here and there for perfect fits, drawing and erasing the hell out of his sketch papers till he loses himself in the lines.
“Derek?”
He looks up at the clock in surprise, it must be late if Isaac is already home. Great, he’s done about two hours’ worth of work throughout the whole day. “In my office!”
The door opens and Isaac’s head pops in. He holds up the bill without even asking.
“Oh, right. I had to steal two articles of clothing from your room this morning. That’s to say sorry or whatever.” Derek’s housemate clearly didn’t see that one coming because he’s _Derek’s_ _housemate_ and he’s never heard such a sentence falls from his lips. But before he can say anything Derek scowls, “Please don’t ask. It’s stupid no matter how I try to explain it.”
Isaac then clamps his jaws back together and turns around, “Fine. But you’re making dinner tonight.” |
0dfe304fd5214ab996b6a182b78f01ed | ['949f99c57b32456dbea9c6666e69a3a8'] | Ben did not want to know. He did, however, decide that they could do worse when it came to friends, really, and clearly Will was going to need someone who was just a bit more realistic and a bit less excited and emotional. And of course it spiralled from there, Will with his boundless enthusiasm always looking for advice, and looking for reassurance, and forgetting things like eating or sleeping or leaving the library before it closed, and Ben and Kit trying to keep him from hurting himself too badly.
Which was why after a month or so, Ben started expecting Will to come over for dinner, if only to make sure the boy would eat something. And Kit used that opening to make Will watch terrible television with him, and by the time summer began, Will had started keeping a change of clothes and a blanket in the drawer under the couch, and he spent the night more often than not.
And then the end of the semester happened, and Will turned all that badly focus enthusiasm onto learning biology, and Ben was amused for a while, and then confused, and then he finally asked, and in answer was presented with a waterfall of words about how there was this class about autopsies, and criminal medicine, and another one about psychology, and medical history, and it a chemistry class about various intoxicating substances, and it had been so interesting, and Will didn't think he'd ever get another chance to learn all this, and. And Ben had gone, and made Will a cup of tea, and then sat next to him, grading papers while Will tried to learn too many things all at once, with a countdown ticking to his next test.
Then, on an otherwise unremarkable Monday morning, just after Will had left to take yet another test, the doorbell rang, and there was a woman introducing herself as Mary, William's mother. And because Ben didn't know what else to do, he invited her in, and offered her tea, and hoped that nothing bad had happened or was about to happen.
"So, William told me he lives with you now?", she asked, and Ben realised that she might not look much like her son, but they had the exact same mannerisms and expressions, right down to their tone of voice.
But Will didn't live with them, not really, he was just crashing on their couch because he was usually too tired to remember that he needed to leave the library before ten at night, and because he tended to forget to eat if they didn't remind him, and Ben told Mary so, because he might not be a good person, but he knew better than to lie to someone's mother.
And Mary listened carefully, and then asked to see the couch where William slept, and Ben showed her, because there was not much else he could think of doing. And Mary was not bound by politeness or exhaustion or gratefulness, and after a few moments of examining the couch, she declared that it was not a fit place for William to sleep. In fact, she did not regard it as a fit place for anyone to sleep, and Ben readied himself for an argument, because as much as he believed in being polite and friendly, Will was old enough to make his own decisions, and neither Ben nor Kit were prepared to see him leave just because his mother was a bit worried about him.
And Mary must have seen something in his eyes, some sort of defiance or hurt or anger, because before Ben could say anything, she had already raised her hand, motioning him to be quiet, and declared: "No, don't worry, I'm not making him move. But really, you need a better place for him to sleep. Do you have any plans for today?"
Ben had thought about grading yet more papers, and maybe restocking the fridge, but that could wait until tomorrow, and really, he was strangely curious as to what, exactly, Will's mother was planning to do. "Nothing that couldn't wait, why?" he answered.
Half an hour later, he found himself in a strangely posh furniture shop, being dragged from one fold-out couch to the next, with Mary reading out description after description to him, and making him lie down on every single one, because young people of today, they just pick nice things, and don't consider comfort, and that was just wrong, and since William was currently writing a biology exam, Ben would have to be the one to find a couch that would be suitable for sleeping on.
Ben hadn't known that there were that many different couches even existing, and he hadn't known that it was possible for a single one person to have so many opinions on so trivial a subject, but he did as he was told, and wondered how he was supposed to afford every single couch that Mary seemed to consider even halfways suitable for her darling boy, and so he tried his best to find fault with all of them, desperately hoping that she would give up after a while, and he could just forget that any of this ever happened.
And then Mary found something even Ben couldn't find fault with, white fake leather, comfortable, and the colour fitting perfectly with the rest of the room, and it even came with drawers underneath, perfect for Will's steadily growing collection of books that he had started to build into questionably stable towers beneath the windowsills. | 9b299a595f1d4c91a9f70ec9727675da | ['949f99c57b32456dbea9c6666e69a3a8'] | GREEN Something that won't be upsetting. Something we can agree on. Otherwise he'll just leave again the moment he comes back.
BUSHY The weather is nice.
GREEN It is.
BUSHY It was nice yesterday as well.
GREEN True.
BUSHY Do you think it will be nice tomorrow as well?
GREEN I don't know.
_(silence)_
GREEN The trees look very nice.
BUSHY Yes.
GREEN They would be very nice in spring, in full bloom.
BUSHY Yes.
GREEN Who do you think planted them?
BUSHY I don't know.
GREEN Do you think this would be someone's garden?
BUSHY I don't know.
_(silence)_
BUSHY We could be quiet for a while?
GREEN We can't.
BUSHY Why not?
GREEN We can't.
BUSHY Is it forbidden?
GREEN It is impossible.
_(silence)_
BUSHY So what should we talk about?
GREEN I don't know.
BUSHY But you said we have to talk!
GREEN I didn't.
BUSHY You just did.
GREEN I did not.
_(silence)_
GREEN Say something!
BUSHY What?
GREEN Anything!
BUSHY But what?
GREEN You could tell a joke?
BUSHY I don't know any jokes.
GREEN Or you could sing.
BUSHY And what should I sing?
GREEN Just sing something!
BUSHY I don't want to!
_(silence)_
BUSHY We could try thinking about it.
GREEN No.
BUSHY Why not?
GREEN Thinking never gets anyone anywhere.
BUSHY But we are not trying to get anywhere, we're just passing time.
GREEN And what shall we think about?
BUSHY I don't know.
GREEN Then why did you suggest it?
BUSHY I thought you might know something.
GREEN You shouldn't try thinking.
_(silence)_
BUSHY We could take a bath.
GREEN Do you think the water is still warm?
BUSHY Why wouldn't it be?
GREEN I has been standing here for some time, at least.
_(they cross the stage to finally take a closer look at the bathtub)_
BUSHY It's just water. _(in tones of offended disappointment)_
GREEN That would be a problem.
_(silence)_
_(enter BAGGOT, stage right)_
BAGGOT _(without remarking on his sudden return)_ What have we been doing yesterday night?
BUSHY We have been here, waiting.
BAGGOT What for?
GREEN Waiting.
BAGGOT And then?
BUSHY You really don't remember?
BAGGOT No?
GREEN You don't remember… _(hesitates, suddenly unsure about the names)_ Rosencrantz and…
BUSHY Guildenstern.
BAGGOT Who were they?
GREEN _(with over-exaggerated slowness and patience)_ They smelt of horses.
BUSHY And you suggested they might be in terrible need of a bath.
BAGGOT Did I? They can't have liked that.
GREEN They didn't seem to mind too much.
BUSHY They agreed with you, in a manner of speaking.
BAGGOT _(considering this for a moment)_ We have been here yesterday, and we met two men…
BUSHY _(interrupting him)_ Boys. They were little more than boys.
BAGGOT And we met two boys, who smelt of horses, and needed to bathe. And then?
GREEN We talked, and they left to meet the king.
BAGGOT Ours?
GREEN Theirs.
BAGGOT And then?
BUSHY A boy arrived and told us that we would need to wait a bit longer yet. And he told us to wish for baked apples.
GREEN _(looking determinedly innocent)_ Like these? _(handing BUSHY a bowl containing one baked apple and a spoon)_
_(BUSHY starts eating, apparently intent on ignoring the question, or anything else in the world, until he has finished with his apple)_
BAGGOT Are we to assume that this is a yes?
_(BUSHY waves the hand clutching his spoon impatiently at them, and continues eating)_
GREEN Do you think we could obtain breakfast and maybe something to drink for ourselves?
BAGGOT What do you want for breakfast?
GREEN _(thoughtfully)_ The boy mentioned pancakes, I think.
BAGGOT _(doubtfully)_ Pancakes.
BUSHY _(proudly)_ Pancakes. _(handing GREEN a plate)_
GREEN Thank you.
BAGGOT And something to drink?
GREEN _(exchanging a glance with BUSHY)_ That would be nice.
BUSHY Milk, please.
BAGGOT How…?
BUSHY _(shrugging)_ You just have to want it enough.
BAGGOT _(with a look of pained concentration)_ Can I get some milk, please?
_(nothing happens)_
BAGGOT Can I get some milk, please?
_(nothing happens)_
BAGGOT Milk. Please.
_(nothing happens)_
BUSHY Maybe you're asking the wrong question?
BAGGOT The wrong question?
GREEN Maybe you need to be more specific?
BAGGOT _(throwing his hands up in a gesture of exasperated defeat)_ Can I please have three normal-sized cups of cold cow's milk, please?
_(the cups appear, placed such that only the quick reactions from BUSHY and GREEN keep BAGGOT from having spilt milk all over his clothes)_
BAGGOT Why did that not happen to you?
GREEN What?
BAGGOT The things you wished for didn't spill.
BUSHY Oh. Should we try again?
BAGGOT I don't want milk spilt over me.
GREEN _(emptying his cup in one long draught, then licking the milk off his upper lips)_ We could try with water. But breakfast, first.
_(they eat and drink, and BAGGOT seems to get increasingly more annoyed as the other two manage to obtain cinnamon and apricot jam and sugar syrup for their pancakes, while he seems stuck with conjuring whole apples or chickens)_
_(the chickens, appear again to the opening melody of Smetana'sLINK, and they wander off stage as soon as they appear)_
BAGGOT _(sulkily)_ Why can't I have nice things?!
GREEN You only have to ask. _(uses his spoon to cut off a piece of pancake, and then offers it to BAGGOT)_
BAGGOT _(taking the offered food)_ Thank you. _(flatly)_
BUSHY _(absentmindedly feeding BAGGOT another piece of pancake)_ It hardly seems fair, though, that we can simply wish for things, and he gets chickens instead.
GREEN _(feeding BAGGOT yet another piece of pancake)_ Maybe he wishes for chickens accidentally?
BUSHY _(holding out another piece of pancake for BAGGOT, but this time with his fingers instead of with his spoon)_ Why would he accidentally wish for chickens?
BAGGOT _(after taking the offered bite of pancake and then biting BUSHY's fingers in something that could be affection, but could be retaliation just as well)_ I like chickens.
BUSHY But not on your pancakes. |
4e33f1be304c4ca3b3b540d33ba32a13 | ['94afc5a7c634466c84f7b1f66500d0a5'] | The school day was also so calm that Evan started to think he’d finally get some peace and quiet. No one bothered him, no one tried to talk to him, no teacher called on him in class and he was on cloud 9. After the last couple of days, he deserved a regular day without any drama and was grateful it was finally here.
He made his way to the front of the school and pulled out a textbook to “entertain” himself while he was waiting for Jared. It was a biology textbook from the biology class he had earlier that day, and he got so into it he ignored the world around him.
“A textbook? You’re such a fucking nerd,” Jared said as he approached with a grin on his face.
Evan looked up and rolled his eyes in response.
“Ae you ready to go? We can go grab dinner on the way-“
Suddenly, a tall girl in a short flowy dress approached the boys.
“Hey…”
Evan saw Jared freeze as soon as she approached and, as uncharacteristic as it was, Evan decided to take a step forward to stand in front of Jared protectively. It was usually the other way around, but this girl seemed to have a huge impact on Jared and Evan wasn’t going to let her make him feel bad again.
“W-What do you want, Heather?”
“I was actually hoping to talk to Jared,” she tilted her head so she could see the shorter boy.
Evan took a small step back and looked at Jared worryingly. Jared looked him in the eyes and Evan tried to give him an assuring look. He didn’t know if he was successful.
“Anything you want to say you can say in front of him,” Jared said and took Evan’s hand into his own, their fingers interlocking. Holding hands with Jared felt like second nature to Evan now, since they pretty much did it every day, but he still noticed the electricity that ran through him when their skin touched.
Heather eyed them both before speaking. “Fine. Look, I know what I said yesterday was shitty, and I just wanted to apologize. Zoe talked to me after the meeting and made me see how insensitive what I said was, so yeah, I’m sorry and all that. I’m in the meeting because I want to understand you guys better, so I hope you can understand I’m still learning.”
_This_ _doesn’t seem very genuine_
When they said nothing, Heather continued, “Look, maybe I can make it up to you. I’m having a party tomorrow and a lot of our school will be there. You’re welcome to come if you want to.”
“We’re not really-“
“We’ll be there,” Jared interrupted Evan.
_We most definitely will not._
Evan turned his head to face Jared, mortified, but didn’t say a thing.
Heather gave the boys a fake smile, „Great! I’ll tell Zoe to text you the adress. See you there,“ and with that, she was gone.
“What do you mean we will be there?!” Evan asked, furious. Well, he was more anxious than furious, but he wanted to hide that the best he could.
“Relax, Evan. This is the first time we’ve been invited to a party! A real, high school party! And we’re seniors for fuck’s sake! This is finally an opportunity to make some friends!“
„B-but...“
"No buts, Evan. We’re going.” Jared took a few steps down the stairs and held his hand out for Evan. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, I’ll be with you the whole time. And if you start freaking out, we can leave. Deal?“ he said with a smile.
„Ugh. Fine! But you’re the worst and I hate you.“ Evan said, taking Jared’s hand and walking towards the car.
“Love you too, bro,” Jared grinned.
* * *
They spent the rest of the day on their own, Evan studying biology and Jared playing computer games on his laptop. They ordered pizza for dinner and bedtime came sooner than they expected.
They were both laying on their beds, minding their own business when Evan’s phone suddenly vibrated to indicate he had a new message.
**Zoe: Hi Evan! The party tomorrow is at 45 West street, hope to see you there!**
He gulped before speaking, „Zoe just texted me the adress for tomorrow’s party.“
Jared nodded in response.
„Do I have to...drink anything?“ Evan asked hesitantly.
„No. You’re welcome to be the sober freak of the party. On top of being gay of course.“ Jared snickered, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone.
„Jared that isn’t funny! And I’m not gay!” Evan said, offended.
„Right. You’re as straight as they come.“ Jared said, and Evan somehow knew Jared rolled his eyes even though he couldn’t see him.
„I-I...I mean...I’m not…Whatever,“ Evan stopped himself quickly.
This made Jared look up and shut his laptop.
„What was that?“ he asked, suddenly interested.
„I-I just...I don’t know if I’m…straight? I-I mean...the uh, the things I said in the GSA...about me uh, questioning my....attraction? That wasn’t a lie exactly...“ Evan said, yet again grateful for the darkness of the night.
He felt his body start to shake as Jared failed to respond for what felt like hours. Once he finally spoke, he had a weird tone to his voice, one Evan hadn’t heard before.
„Oh. Alright. Cool.“
„Cool beans.“ Evan facepalmed in the dark, _Cool beans? What are you, 12?_
A moment of silence passed before Jared spoke again. „And to actually answer your question, of course you don’t have to drink. But I know I will and dealing with drunk Jared will definitely be more fun if you’re drunk too.”
„But how will we get there if we both drink? I can’t drive us there if that’s the case.“
„We can just call a taxi, or an uber. It’s not that difficult.“
„Right...calling...sure...“
„Relax, Evan, I’ll be the one to call.“ | 3c2617fe69334232aee62d792dc0372d | ['94afc5a7c634466c84f7b1f66500d0a5'] | “You’re like…the water to my cider.”
Jared raised an eyebrow at Evan. “I’m _what_?“
“W-well, you know… people always say stuff like…you’re the gin to my tonic, the vodka to my cranberry juice…b-but the only thing I drink is alcoholic cider, and w-well, nothing really goes with that…so that’s why I said water, because w-water goes with…everything?” Evan tried to explain.
Jared burst into laughter. “And on _that_ note, we need to get you some water. I will die before I see my boyfriend with a wicked hangover if I can prevent it.”
Evan felt his heart race so fast he was kind of scared he was having a heart attack. “Y-your…boyfriend?”
It was apparent the alcohol was wearing off, as Evan was back to his usual stutter.
“Well duh, you dork, you like me, I like you, we kissed, next we’ll fuck and then we’ll live happily ever after with our 4 cats.” Jared put his arm around Evan to help him stand up.
“jARED!” Evan squealed, his face turning bright red. “W-we just got together don’t-“
“Relax Mother Teresa, we’re not fucking tonight. Maybe. You gotta sober up first and then we’ll see. You did just tell me you like dicks a lot, and well, you know, I happen to have one.” Jared said and concluded his statement with a kiss on Evan’s cheek.
“I-I hate you.” Evan managed to get out.
“No, you don’t.” Jared said with a grin.
Evan’s face brightened up with the biggest smile he could muster, “No…I don’t.”
**Author's Note:**
> I have no excuse for having written this, I'm supposed to be studying. This is based on a true story, except for the kiss part, but I got the idea to turn this experience into a Kleinsen one shot on the bus ride home today and I actually ended up really liking it, so...there you go!
>
> Kudos and comments are greately wanted and appreciated, they make me so happy you've no idea. Please if you liked this, let me know.
>
> You can talk to me on tumblr: @simply-a-work-of-art. Thank you for reading! x |
e94d023c8547495ab5100e7c7df2c46f | ['94bd7cea00f74a2bae3e51f4a3fa496e'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> if you don't know about LINK, an ennoshita-themed dril bot run by LINK and i, check that out.
>
> in particular, these two tweets, the first of which this fic was based off, the second of which is referenced: LINK & LINK
>
> becky: this one goes out to you, for that skype conversation that led to discussing ennoshita with a twitter, but also for every skype conversation that's happened afterward. <3
> also, a huge huge huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to LINK for betaing. i'm pretty sure you're made of stardust and very good advice. also i love u
Futakuchi knows he should probably be at practice right now, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. It’s a sacrifice for the good of the team -- they’ve all been busting ass to prepare for Spring High, not to mention preparing Koganegawa, which is another trial in itself. They deserve a break, for once.
Of course, Futakuchi’s choice to cancel evening practice has _nothing_ to do with the fact that he borrowed his Mom’s car to get across town and is now loitering in the Karasuno student parking lot, waiting for Ennoshita to finish practice.
To be fair, Futakuchi’s been planning this for a while.
It started with the fact that Ennoshita’s the most interesting person Futakuchi has ever met and then the damning realization that Futakuchi enjoys their late night conversations more than he probably should. Between being asked if he wants to stream a movie at two in the morning and joint-coordinating a practice match for their teams, Futakuchi’s been met with nothing but smashed expectations.
Even now, after months now of late night talks and easy banter, Futakuchi swallows hard when he asks Ennoshita for a picture of his car. He blinks in surprise when his phone buzzes a minute later bearing a picture of a blue-gray sedan, no questions asked. Futakuchi smiles down at his phone with relief before sliding it into his back pocket.
Granted, with friendship, trust usually follows, and it’s trust (and Google Maps) that’s brought him and his prom signs outside Ennoshita’s car today.
Futakuchi knows Karasuno’s going to get out soon -- he had to cut class just to make it over here in time -- so he gets straight to the plan. He feels kind of guilty as he slaps down the packing tape onto Ennoshita’s new paint job, but a confessions is a confession, and Futakuchi’s not going to half ass this. He lays the longest of the signs across the windshield and starts dragging the roll of tape along its border. When that’s done, Futakuchi adds the signs on the side. They overlap the door handles, but that’s unavoidable considering he went all out with his kanji size.
Futakuchi takes a step back to examine his handiwork. Across the body of Ennoshita’s car reads “ **DRIVE AWAY WITH ME INTO THE SUNSET (AND/OR TO PROM)** ” in bold strokes. It’s not the most creative of signs, but it gets the message across. Futakuchi hums and scans over his work again. It's a little rough around the edges -- there are paint drips splattered across the cardboard but it’ll have to do.
It’s then that Karasuno’s final bell rings, and though it’s not particularly loud, Futakuchi still bolts up like someone set a firecracker off under his ass. Futakuchi’s throat dries, his palms starting to sweat as he waits. Okay, fine, he’s nervous, but it’s not everyday that you ask out _Ennoshita Chikara_.
Well, he’d hope not, because Ennoshita would definitely have a boyfriend or something by now, and that’d totally mess up Futakuchi’s whole thing he’s got going on where he texts Ennoshita and smothers himself with his pillow immediately after. That, and he’s hoping that with the amount of banter-flirting that’s been happening between them over the past few months, Futakuchi actually stands a chance.
Point being, Futakuchi’s been reading the signs, and he damn well hopes that Ennoshita will show up soon and read the ones plastered across his car.
He checks his watch. Thirty minutes have passed, long enough that Ennoshita should be getting ready for practice already. Futakuchi leans against the bumper and wonders if he should just go when he sees a figure hauling ass across the school grounds.The person’s running with a purpose, a large bulky schoolbag thumping against their legs with every stride. It can’t be comfortable, but the person doesn’t slow.
It’s Ennoshita. He knows it with a certainty that he can’t explain beyond a gut feeling.
_He’s coming this way_ , Futakuchi realizes and perks up. He unfolds himself from his seat on the front bumper before wiping his clammy palms on his pants. As the figure gets closer, his suspicions are verified; he knew he recognized that side part.
“Futakuchi? What are you doing here?” Ennoshita pants out when he finally makes it to his car. “Ah, nevermind -- I’m sorry but I can’t stop and talk. I left my clean gym clothes in my car, and I need to-” He double takes at the cardboard in front of him. “Well, this complicates things,” Ennoshita announces, staring at his car a little longer.
That’s not the response Futakuchi was looking for, but he can work with it. Futakuchi’s lips pull into a tight smile as he leans against the side-view mirror. “Have you tried reading the signs…?” he suggests and taps the taped border.
Sure, he gets that there might be a slight shock factor in seeing a bunch of posters plastered across one’s car, or whatever, but it’s not _that_ incredible as far as gestures go.
It’s just a few plain signs that have a possibly _life-changing_ message on them that Ennoshita _still isn’t reacting to_. | 8e2d3475796e4e0b896b0ee628c98c3c | ['94bd7cea00f74a2bae3e51f4a3fa496e'] | The prospect of Kei falling behind to Hinata, who is (unfortunately) innately gifted in ways Kei cannot match, sticks to him with irritating accuracy.
Just then, a group of Kuroo’s own teammates arrive in the gym, which Kei gladly takes as an exit cue.
“It seems I’ve been relieved of duty,” he says, with a frigid grin. He strides past the squabbling teammates towards the door, relieved to finally be heading back towards his dorm.
As he’s walking out of the gym, Kei hears one of the duo half-whisper, “He’s got the capability; someone’s just got to get him to try.”
“What do ya think it’s gonna take to fire him up?”
“A goddamned miracle -- who knows?”
* * *
_What more do you need than pride?_
_I don’t know_ , Kei thinks.
He doesn’t have an inkling of an idea, not a fucking clue. He can’t answer Yamaguchi’s question, so he sets off to ask someone who can.
* * *
“Why would you go to such lengths for only a club?” he hears himself ask Bokuto, only to be met with another question in response.
“Say, Tsukishima-kun, do you enjoy playing volleyball?” Bokuto says, and, honestly, he doesn’t like it more than anything else.
“Not particularly, no.”
“Isn’t that because you suck at it?” Bokuto asks, and _fuck this_ . He came here to figure out what the hell has this entire camp so devoted to an mediocre extracurricular, not to get dragged by some over-excitable man-child. But then Bokuto continues on about how he’s better than Kei, _as if that wasn’t obvious already_ , and just as Kei’s about to throw in the towel on the entire concept of volleyball Bokuto’s rambling starts making sense.
“Still, if you experience _that moment_ , it’ll really get you hooked on volleyball.”
* * *
“Okay, so when you jump, well, first, you haven’t been jumping straight up with your full power; it counts every time, and you’ll get fabulous thighs like mine as a result,” Kuroo says. slapping his leg to demonstrate that, yes, his thighs are indeed _fabulous_. “Second, extend from your fingertips, not just your arms, and stiffen them outwards, not just up. Start with that, and you should be able to put a dent into how much room Owly over there has to spike. You’ve done it before -- I saw that play where Bokuto totally ran away from you,” he adds with a teasing grin, raising his voice a little so Bokuto can hear.
“Hey!” Bokuto protests, “No using the new weapon against me!”
“But isn’t that his job -- to block you? And he’ll get better if he’s practicing with one of the top five spikers of Japan, bro.”
“Hell yeah, he will! Come at me, Tsukki!”
Kei does indeed “come at him”; he jumps using every bit of the strength in his legs and fully extends his arms, which feel like they might pop out of their sockets. It’s strange and uncomfortable and a hassle - but Bokuto’s spike hits his hands and drops unceremoniously to the floor, and much to Kei’s chagrin, the smile on Kuroo’s face only gets wider.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
The next day and the days after, Kei heads back to gym three after practice, with a determination purely, _purely_ based on a need to wipe the satisfied grin off that Kuroo’s face.
* * *
The mass of ravenous volleyball players descend upon the end-of-training-camp barbecue with an enthusiasm nearly equal to their fervor on the court.
Kei goes off to the side, by one of the outer grills. There’s no point in throwing himself at the center of the typhoon when there’s food over here. He places a few slices of meat onto his plate and finds a seat near a quieter alcove by a wall of the gym.
The alcove stays quiet for a whole two minutes until Daichi, Kuroo, and Bokuto invade into his safe haven with cries of “eat some more, Tsukishima! You need some veggies and protein to get strong,” that strongly remind him of his pushy aunt who always packs extra tonkatsu in his luggage after their mandatory family reunion. It’s oddly endearing, in an overbearing and annoying and irritating sort of way.
“Just because you’re avoiding me, Tsukki, doesn’t mean you can avoid eating your vegetables! I can’t have my protégé blown away by the wind,” Kuroo hollers from the grills, where he’s gone back to get more food. Kei ignores him.
“Why did I step into that gym in the first place?” Kei sighs rhetorically to Akaashi next to him. His plate is purposefully empty of aforementioned vegetables.
“I suppose it’s because you wanted to play volleyball,” Akaashi replies.
“Perhaps,” Kei says, and they fall into a companionable silence, letting the barbecue’s noises (mainly Bokuto yelling and wildly gesticulating with Hinata if they’re both honest) fill the space where words would be. After a week adjusting to the chaos of the training camp, it’s easy for Kei to let the hubbub fade into the background. The sun is starting to sink towards the horizon, and Kei thinks he might just want to remember this past week. Despite the absurdity of flying falls and sprints up the god forsaken hill, it’s been oddly enjoyable watching Kageyama groggily functioning (if you could even call it that) at six am and remarkably entertaining observing Sugawara’s behavior before he’s had caffeine. Not to mention the four consecutive times Hinata fell on his face during flying falls -- that had been more than alright.
This is alright too -- just sitting with Akaashi and watching. Kei can do watching. He and Akaashi, and later Kenma, sit quietly as the pandemonium settles into a noisy but approachable mess. |
a920eded28f942c7907100bc6e8cc270 | ['94c63c02b69f4397b1e6aa8244c5a938'] | Flame
**Author's Note:**
> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at LINK. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on LINK.
Flame
## Flame
by USER
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, don't sue.
* * *
Sometimes when you're in his bed, fingers running through his hair and his breath ghosting over your stomach you think that maybe it's not just you.
Maybe it's him too.
But then you watch him and you start to doubt it again.
That your _more/need/give/please_ is lost on him.
You can't know for sure, he's never been that easy to read all the way through. Like a book that's been ripped in half while you're reading it. And the rest is there but you have to work harder to find out what goes where.
But now he's lying in your arms and you can't help but think he's there because he understands, feels just the same.
Maybe his _want/more/take/have_ is just the same as your _more/need/give/please_ and maybe you do fit together. It feels like you fit together. You can feel it every time he lands on top of you and you get lost in his kiss. You feel it when he pushes slowly inside you and he can't take his eyes off you the whole way in.
But sometimes your brain tries to interfere.
_You've tried this before, it doesn't work. Perfect doesn't work._
That's when you look at him and try to put the pages back together, put the information he's giving you in some sort of order. Figure out if what you feel is reflected back to you or if it's just your own hope painting it there over the real picture.
Then he's murmuring nothings into your skin as he trails kisses down your body. While your hands are gripping into the sheets, trying to find something to grab onto his hands come up to yours and pry your fingers off the sheets so he can intertwine your fingers and hold on too.
When you say please he smiles and there's an almost laugh there. He'll kiss you then and move just a little so you can get some friction, some of him.
It's then that you're absolutely certain that he feels the same you do.
He looks at you and there's a small grin on his face and a shine in his eyes that you only ever seen then. He leans down and kisses you and you're lost there.
He shifts his head a little where it rests against your chest and your fingers stall in his spiky hair until he stops moving again and then they start again. He moves again so your hand falls from his head and rests at the base of his neck where the short blonde hairs rub against your fingertips. Then he turns his head so he can see you.
Smiles.
"Stop thinking so loud."
And he knows, can probably see it in your eyes, the way every time he looks at you from next to you, or on you, or across the room he can see the small flame of doubt. That small flicker that you're not sure will build or just blow out.
"Sorry."
And you do mean it. Sorry about doubting him, sorry about everything. But he just smiles like you knew he would and stretches up to kiss you softly before moving and laying next to you instead of on top of you.
He closes his eyes and flops an arm over your stomach where his breath isn't warming it anymore. And before you can even think about closing your eyes and trying to sleep he scoots closer so his stomach is flat up against your side and his nose nuzzles in at your neck.
"I'm not going anywhere, Frase. Sleep."
And maybe it's the way he seems just oh-so-comfortable there, or the way he hangs on tighter to you when he says that or the way that smile never leaves his face but you know now.
Know that he feels just the same.
Your _more/need/give/please_ is just the same as his _want/more/take/have_ and that's enough for you.
The End
* * *
End Flame by USER
Author and story notes above.
Please post a comment on this story.
Read posted comments. | ba01c94776a043f58cffc0ba84ac6d17 | ['94c63c02b69f4397b1e6aa8244c5a938'] | Space Between
**Author's Note:**
> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at LINK. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on LINK.
Space Between
## Space Between
by USER
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, don't sue.
Author's Notes: POV - Welsh
* * *
It isn't how close they are that you look at. You don't look at the way Ray's shoulder rests against Fraser's when they sit next to each other, or the way that Ray's always looking over Fraser's shoulder. You don't look at the way some part of them is always touching, even if it's just a brush of a finger, a pat on the shoulder.
No, what you see it the space in between.
The space that you know they leave there for a reason. Keep some people still wondering, still guessing. But not you. No, you know. You know what they do when the workday's over, when they walk by your office and the smiles are on their faces and Fraser's as non-Mountie as you'll ever see him.
You know the space they leave while working is taken up by fast pants, frantic fingers and sweat.
When you found out the look on their face when they saw you was pure shock, which soon gave way to fear.
What were you going to do to them, were you going to fire him? And Fraser wouldn't even let you say hi before he started in.
"It's not affecting our work..."
And you looked at him and over to Ray a few times with a smile on your face that didn't go away until Fraser's explanation, promises, teetered between annoying and just plan pointless.
"It's fine."
And Fraser looks at you like you've said something in a language he actually doesn't understand but Ray, Ray already knew you were going to be fine with it because as Fraser was talking he saw it in your eyes. He was always a good detective.
When you walked out of that club, a few beers with them later, you had a smile on your face and the knowledge that the space in between gets filled.
The End
* * *
End Space Between by USER
Author and story notes above.
Please post a comment on this story.
Read posted comments. |
02e1a4ae56e04246a2229a310b854f8b | ['94c9152007a0443e9481642113f94145'] | Vigil
"Yes, I know I've been identified as a werewolf," Gwendoline said, her arms crossed as she stood outside in the breeze in front of the Hall of The Vigilant, her flame red hair blowing, "but I want to be a Vigilant."
Gwendoline's hand rested lightly on the hilt of her silver sword.
"You have to cure yourself if you want in."
"I never use the beast blood other than to have immunity to vampirism," she pointed out, "I never even transform. The one time I did was when I first got the blood. And I didn't even hurt anyone in wolf form."
"That may be, Nord," Keeper Carcette said, "but you're still a werewolf."
"I know that. I don't want to forfeit that, and it's got positive attributes that can improve my ability as a...."
The Dragonborn's voice trailed off as a strange fiery doorway appeared behind them.
"Oblivion Gate! Look out! To arms, Vigilants! To arms!"
Carcette drew her steel hammer and Gwendoline drew her sword. A Daedric arrow whistled through the air, and Gwendoline slapped it aside with her silver blade. Vigilants flooded out of the Hall, weapons drawn. Heavily armored Dremora warriors poured out of the gate, weapons drawn. A Vigilant archer fired an arrow that struck a Dremora mage as it exited the gate. Gwendoline rushed the Dremora, swinging her blade overhead. A Dremora with a greatsword blocked, returning the attack with an overhead chop that would have sliced the Nordic warrior in two if it had connected. She leapt OVER the attack and came down behind the Dremora, slicing its throat with her silver blade. The Dremora fell, and she turned to engage another one as it rushed her. Carcette swung her hammer at a Dremora, which blocked and stabbed at her with its two handed sword. Gwendoline summoned a Familiar, and leapt as a mage came out of the gate. She closed with the mage, stabbing the female Dremora through the chest with her blade before spinning to engage another Dremora. A Vigilant went down, a Daedric arrow buried in her throat. A blast of fire from one of the Dremora mages struck the Hall, setting it ablaze. A Dremora with a hammer clipped Gwendoline's shoulder, knocking the sword away from her, and she Shouted.
" _FUS RO DAH!_ "
The Dremora flew backwards, and she struggled towards her fallen blade. Before she could get to it, however, a Dremora snatched it up.
"Puny mortal. You can't have your weapon."
It brought its hammer down towards her, and she rolled away from the blow. Keeper Carcette's hammer caved in the crimson beast's skull as Gwendoline rose. Using her lycanthropic strength, Gwendoline sprang, her legs snapping out of the tightly coiled position they were in as she flew. She crashed into a Dremora mage, knocking her to the ground and stabbing her through the stomach. Gwendoline pulled her weapon free and spun, barely parrying a Dremora's sword. Several more Vigilants fell to Dremora archers, and Carcette shouted.
"Fall back! Fall back, we're routed! Fall back!"
An arrow whistled through the air, burying itself in Gwendoline's back. She went down. All but one of the Vigilants retreated, the last one running to Gwendoline. The Vigilant who had run to Gwendoline gently removed the arrow, picking her up.
"Come on, we have to get out of here," the woman shouted, and they fled. | 044f8833997c48e7a755923fcd3ba0af | ['94c9152007a0443e9481642113f94145'] |
1. Chapter 1
Bosmer archer Nimle fired a Daedric arrow, and a frost troll went down just as a blast of flame from Nimle's lover's staff struck it. Her lover, a Nord by the name of Kolfinna, drove her staff into the snow, as they looked around. Nimle's elf vision easily penetrated the thick fog, and she spotted a ship. The winds were howling and a thick snowstorm was blowing around the two women and their companions, an Argonian warrior by the name El-Lee, a Dunmer assassin named Rizia, and a Khajiit assassin named Dar Li.
"We need shelter from this storm," Nimle shouted, hoping her lover and their mutual friends could hear her over the wind, "there's a ship over there! It's not too far, we can probably make it in 5 minutes!"
"This one agrees that we need shelter. But Dar Li wonders, we don't know what's on that ship! There could be anything," the Khajiit assassin pointed out, one hand on the hilt of her ebony sword.
"You're right, Dar Li. But it can't be any worse than this storm, and even if it is, we can probably handle it," Nimle shouted.
"She's right," Kolfinna said, "We need to go to that ship. NOW!"
Kolfinna winked at her Bosmer lover.
"Okay," Dar Li said, "we'll go, but this one still thinks it might be a bad idea. If it's dangerous, don't say this one didn't warn you."
"Enough bickering," Rizia said, "let's just go."
They set off, trekking through the blowing snow and taking shelter inside the ship, which turned out to be leaning to the starboard side slightly. The inside of the ship was decorated with carvings. One was of a woman leaping through the air and bringing an enormous axe to bear on a dragon. Another showed the same woman, next to another one, someone who was clearly a mage, fighting a mage in a mask. Nimle brushed the carving of the woman fighting the dragon, finding text below it. She read it aloud.
"The Dovahkiin Allea slaying Alduin in Sovngarde," she read aloud, then moved to the next one, the one of the two women fighting the mage in the mask, "Allea and her lover Serana fighting the First Dragonborn, Miraak at the summit of Apocrypha."
Nimle looked around, and sure enough, the entire entranceway of the massive ship was decorated in carvings of the Dragonborn in various scenes. She suddenly grew nervous.
"I know what ship this is," Kolfinna said, "this is Allea's Hope, the famous ship that the Dovahkiin was on when she disappeared. As such this place is certain to be rigged with traps. We should be careful."
"Should we go deeper? Maybe Allea's still alive."
"It's been 2000 years since she vanished, Kolfinna. Unless she was a vampire, she's long dead."
"But that's the thing, we don't know if she herself was one, but we know her lover was."
"We lost some of our supplies on the trek here," Rizia pointed out, "we don't know how long the storm's going to last. We could look for supplies onboard."
"Yes, we could. There's no guarantee there'll be any here, but it's worth a try," El-Lee said in her Argonian accent, "And if the storm lasts too long and we run out, we can always venture back out."
"Okay, we'll check it out," Nimle said, "Unless Kolfinna thinks it's a bad idea."
"No, I think we should."
"Everyone ready your weapons. We don't know what we'll be facing," Nimle said, "but don't be weapons happy."
Her companions nodded. El-Lee drew her steel battleaxe, Dar Li drew her ebony sword, Rizia drew his twin scimitars, Kolfinna drew her warhammer, and Nimle drew her bow. Nimle pushed open the door, drawing her bow back. An ice wolf jumped out in front of the party, and she fired, striking it down. A figure in fur armor dropped from the rafters, swinging a pair of steel maces at Rizia, who parried with his scimitars and unleashed a flurry of blows that sliced the bandit across the chest and throat repeatedly.
"There's bandits on this ship? That's not...that's not good."
Kolfinna swung her warhammer, which was made of glass and had a fire enchantment, caving in a bandit's iron-armored chest. The remaining bandit, obviously the leader, who was wearing a set of Daedric armor, minus the helmet, swung his greatsword, which was Daedric in origin. Kolfinna ducked under the sword, which scraped very shallowly into her Stormcloak cuirass. She smashed the front of her hammer into the bandit's stomach, barely fazing him. She pulled back, striking at his legs. Her hammer connected, smashing his legs out from under him. She brought her hammer down, splitting the bandit's skull with her hammer. Blood sprayed from the wound. Another bandit popped up, speaking in a Nordic accent.
"I knew I heard something," he growled, drawing a steel greatsword.
He lunged at the group, swinging his greatsword over head. An ice spike buried itself in the man's chest. He crumpled. They looked around, and Nimle saw her first. The mage was a woman wearing a cuirass that left the tops of her breasts exposed. She had glowing orange eyes.
"It's Serana," Nimle said aloud, "Allea's lover!"
To be Continued....
2. Chapter 2
Serana readied her ice spikes, aiming at the group.
"Identify yourselves," she growled.
"I am Nimle," Nimle said, "this is my lover Kolfinna, and our friends, El-Lee, Rizia, and Dar-Li."
"What brings you to the ship?"
"We were taking shelter from the storm. When I identified the ship as Allea's Hope, we decided to investigate," Kolfinna said.
"I see."
"We were also intending to take some of the onboard supplies, as we lost a large portion of our supplies in the storm," Nimle explained.
"I admit," Rizia said, "I was hoping we'd find Allea onboard. I've always had a...fascination with the Dragonborn. And since she's the last one.." |
282d0f06ca6641f6ba60d4eb5e83c178 | ['94d5d989bfba4a6da72c4c1b49738baa'] | Allura is from Britain and moved to America when her dad died and her uncle took her in. She is also an art history major and really enjoyed it. She is also really protective of her friends and family, loves animals, and worked at a local dance studio. Hunk is the big, cuddly guy that no one could ever stay mad at for long. He is the chef of the group, and a very talented one at that. He didn’t seem scary, unless you insult his friends. Hunk is a chemistry major and made new recipes during his free time. Pidge, oh Pidge. They are the one of the most interesting and mysterious people Keith has probably ever met. They are also a chemistry major, but they had skipped two grades in elementary, so they are really smart. They also really enjoyed hacking into the school’s website and changing the color schemes and adding memes onto the front page. No one could blame them, it was too funny. Then, there is Lance. Lance had become mute after he saw his father commit suicide when Lance was 5. Besides that, he is an astronomy major, just like Keith. Lance loved to crack jokes at random times and is really easy to talk to. He is always there to comfort his friends and almost always brings sweets from the store after challenging test. Lance is funny, sweet, kind, and caring. Keith was so glad to have found some friends.
Sharpshooter added keith, pidgeion, QUEEN, and hunky to the group chat.
Sharpshooter named the group chat SLAYERS
**Sharpshooter:** WASSUP MY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!!
**keith:** what do you want lance
**Sharpshooter:** nothing, nothing, I just needed to-
**Sharpshooter:** Wait…… keith, do you not have a nickname????
**keith:** no
**Sharpshooter:** *gasp*
**QUEEN:** *gasp*
**hunky:** *gasp*
**pidgeion:** *le gasp*
**Sharpshooter:** *dramatic gasp* YOU NEED A NICKNAME!
**Sharpshooter:** EVERYONE.
**Sharpshooter:** ASSEMBLE!
Sharpshooter added pidgeion, hunky, and QUEEN to the group chat.
Sharpshooter named the group chat Mission: Give Keith a Nickname
**Sharpshooter:** Anyone have any ideas?
**QUEEN:** What about Keithy?
**pidgeion:** Emo_Boi?
**hunky:** Queef?
**Sharpshooter:** OMG YAS
**Sharpshooter:** his name is now queef
Slayers
Sharpshooter changed keith’s name to queef.
**Sharpshooter:** Soooo, how do you like your new nickname QUEEF?
**queef:** WTF
**QUEEN:** Try to guess who came up with it??
**queef:** easy, Hunk
**Sharpshooter:** Wha- how???
**queef:** well Allura would have done something cutesy, Pidge would have done something to mock me, and lance…
**queef:** I have no clue what you would do
**Sharpshooter:** UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
**pidgeion:** you got me there, pal
**hunky:** huh, I thought I was being clever
* * *
Keith was walking to his ASL class one early morning when he felt a tap on his right shoulder. He took out one of his earbuds and looked over his right shoulder, no one was there. Then there was a tap on his left shoulder, he looked there. No one. This continued until Keith just turned around completely and saw Lance doubled over in laughter.
‘What the heck was that for, Lance?’
‘Sorry, sorry. It was too funny, Queef.’
The entire group had been calling him that for the past couple of weeks.
‘Whatever, Sharpshooter. Is there something I can help you with, or did you just want to bug me?’
‘Yeah, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to join me for lunch?’
Keith cocked his head to the side. ‘I mean, I always eat lunch with you. Why wouldn’t I?’
‘No, I mean, just me.’
Keith looked at him in shock. No one knew about this, except Pidge, but Keith had a major crush on Lance. Keith felt the heat rise up his neck and onto his cheeks. Lance saw the blush as a good sign, smirked, and walked away satisfied. Keith felt a buzz from his back pocket and grabbed his phone to see a text from Lance.
**Lancey <3 > Queef <3**
**Lancey <3: **Meet me by the oak tree in the quad, k?
**Queef <3: **K
Keith’s class went by a lot slower then he wanted it to.
* * *
It was time for lunch and Keith slowly walked towards the big oak tree in the quad. When he got there, he saw Lance scrolling through his phone. Keith quietly moved behind Lance without him noticing and yelled ‘Boo!’ Lance jumped and flailed his arms in an attempt to keep his balance. When he looked back at Keith, his eyes were blown wide in surprise while Keith was doubled over in laughter.
‘Very funny, Mullet.’
‘Yes, it was very funny. At least for me.’ Keith signed, smirking at the blushing Cuban boy. Lance rolled his eyes and motioned for Keith to follow him. They started walking across town to a little café called Voltron. Keith remembered the first time he had visited the café; it felt like home, a place where he felt like he belonged. They sat down at a little booth in the corner of the café.
‘Stay here, I will get us drinks.’ Lance signed as he started to walk away. Keith looked at him longingly as Lance paid for the drinks. He sat back down at the booth and saw that Keith was staring at him. Lance smirked and rested his head on one of his hands on the table. He had that mischievous glint in his eyes that Keith had learned to love. Those sparkling blue orbs that where as bright as the sky, but as deep as the ocean that Keith could stare at forever until the day he died. Sadly, he realized that he had been staring too long and started to feel the all too familiar heat rise up his neck.
‘What are you looking at Keithy boy?’ | c97d537be9694b5083b16d444f0eb391 | ['94d5d989bfba4a6da72c4c1b49738baa'] | Hello New Neighbor, I Need Your Assistance
Lance was cleaning his apartment when there was a knock on the door. He rushes to it to only find a boy about his age standing there looking very nervous. Lance chuckles as he sees the boy fidget with his hands before he speaks.
“I am really sorry for bothering you new neighbor, I know you probably don’t know my name, but you smiled at me the other day when I was moving in and you seem like a nice guy, so can you please come help me kill the giant spider that is in my kitchen. I can make you something to eat after,” the smaller boy said all in one breath. Lance looked at him and shrugged.
“Uh, sure,” Lance said as he stepped out of his apartment and closed the door. He looked at the smaller boy who nodded. Lance then followed said boy up a flight of stairs to the apartment above Lance’s. They entered and Lance noticed it had the same layout as his, but it didn’t have the feeling of home. Besides that, Lance walked into the kitchen to see silverware all over the floor. He looked over to the boy with one eyebrow raised in question. The boy shrugged and looked down in embarrassment. When Lance finally looked up, he saw a huge spider sitting in the corner of the wall. He paused for a moment to think before taking off one of his sneakers and positioning it correctly in his hand.
Lance heard feet moving behind him, and when Lance looked back, he saw that the bathroom door was closing with the boy hiding inside. Lance chuckled and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He stood near the corner and-
**SLAP**
The spider fell to the ground dead. Lance walked over to the counter and grabbed a paper tower, picked up the spider, and threw it away in the trash can. He then moved over to the bathroom to knock lightly on the door. The small boy’s head peaked out.
“Is it dead?” He asked. Lance nodded. “Thank you so much. Let me make you something to eat.” The boy then quickly walked out of the bathroom towards the kitchen to start prepping some food. It was then Lance realized he didn’t know the boy’s name.
“I just realized I forgot to introduce myself,” he said as he walked towards the boy. He stuck a hand out. “The name’s Lance.”
The boy looked up with a smile. “Keith. Thank you again, Lance. Now, what would you like to eat?” |
dfef22ae355b447ea1619fdcaf18cf01 | ['9509e66c432040919a71e8df36c27ab0'] |
Chaos, Advanced
**Author's Note:**
> Sonic and all related elements (c) Sega, Archie, and whoever else has their greedy paws on him now. Used without permission, not for profit.
>
> "Chaos Relocate" and "Chaos See" are (c) K. M. Hollar, used with permission. ( .org)
>
> "Pressing On" was written by Matt Thiessen and is (c) 2001 Gotee Music. On the Relient K album "The Anatomy of the Tongue in Cheek."
>
> The Lion, Lt. Goldman, Emech, and Alex Prower are (c) [Antithesis]. May not be distributed without permission. I also like to think that my versions of Shadow and Dulcy are original, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't steal that without permission either.
>
> The characters and entities in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to any entity, real or fictitious, is purely coincidental. The actions of Minitech Corporation are not intended to resemble the actions of any company or entity, real or fictitious.
>
> This story is (c) 2002-2003 [Antithesis] (Evan H.), all rights reserved. May not be freely distributed.
>
> \---
>
> Here it is! An adaptation of a game with no plot and crazy settings (coughSonicAdvancecoughcough)! As usual, critiques, questions, and comments can be sent to antithesis . Flames are okay as long as they're helpful (which they're usually NOT).
>
> On a side note, this story is not my best work. I am not proud of this in the least, and for good reason. I started this story in July of '02, and it is now June of '03. I lost my motivation back in August, so if this feels rushed, pathetic, or anything else mediocre, that's why.
>
> The universe is SegaSonic with some SatAM characters mixed in. Here's a tip: if it looks like a SatAM character, and acts like a SatAM character, and has the same name as a SatAM character, then it's a SatAM character. Also, if a robot or environment doesn't coincide EXACTLY with the game, sue me.
>
> Okay, I am forcing my long-winded self to shut up now. On with the story!
-Prologue-
A silver convertible pulled up next to the palace. A large, egg-shaped human "hopped" out of the car, "ran" up to the door, and punched in a few obscure numbers on a keypad. The door silently slid open and the human slipped inside.
The hallway was dimly lit. The human counted off the doors until he came to the one he wanted. Keying in another code, he entered the room.
This particular room was lit by a spectacular green glow coming from a gem in the center of the room: the green Chaos Emerald. The human reached for the gem but was blocked by a force field. Scowling, he reached for a key card in his pocket. He swiped the card in the reader on the pedestal and entered yet another code.
Nothing happened.
The human began to tap his foot impatiently, a trait he had picked up, ironically, from one of his greatest enemies.
Finally the light on the card reader turned from red to green, indicating that the force field was deactivated. The human grinned. Turning around to face the security camera behind him, he made a face into the camera as well as a very rude gesture. He then seized the emerald and "ran" out the door to his car.
The streets were deserted. He placed the emerald between the two front seats and took off, yelling, "The great Robotnik strikes again!" His trademark laugh was heard clear on the other side of town.
He pulled onto the Speed Highway with no resistance. No one had called the police yet! "Like taking candy from a baby," he muttered, reaching over to the emerald.
It wasn't there.
Just then Robotnik heard someone behind him yell "Chaos Control!" *That voice,* he thought as he turned around (as much as the car would allow) to get his emerald back from whoever that was. Before he could utter a sound, however, he froze.
Time had stopped for everyone except the shadow on Robotnik's car. It hopped off and tossed the glowing emerald from hand to hand. "Like taking candy from a baby," it muttered. "Rule number one, class?" it continued to the benefit of an unseen audience, "Always check the back seat _before_ entering the vehicle." It hopped over the divider between the opposing lanes of traffic and began running back into town. After a few seconds, the cars began moving once again.
* * *
-Chapter 1: Here we go again...-
The piercing ring of a telephone broke the morning silence. Sonic groggily pulled his hand out from under his bed covers and slammed it on the telephone handset. In the same jerky fashion he pulled it to his head. "Yauuh?" he mumbled, still half asleep.
"Is that you, Sonic?" a female voice asked from the other end.
"Whaa.. Oh, hey Sally," Sonic mumbled. "Wha..dywant..this early?"
"Early? Sonic, it's 9:00 in the morning!"
"So...?"
"So if you want to make a better impression on my father, you'll stop acting like a slack teenager."
"I'm still 18," Sonic mumbled in protest as he put his hand over the microphone. "Tails!" he yelled, "I need my-"
"Coffee?" Tails asked, appearing in Sonic's bedroom doorway with a mug of heavily caffeinated, black coffee.
"Thanks, li'l buddy," Sonic answered. He took a long gulp, shook his head, and ran his hand through his head spines. Visibly and audibly more awake, he picked up the phone. "So, what's up, Sal?"
"That's more like it," Sally replied. "Something's come up and it looks like the intelligence department is going to take another fall. Father wants me to get you started on another mission. Can you meet me in Central Park in an hour?"
"I guess... what's the problem?"
"Can't say over the phone. I'll tell you when we meet. Later?" | 955c598df8a64484a460ae4d29d3d17e | ['9509e66c432040919a71e8df36c27ab0'] | A small metal building surrounded by barbed wire-topped fences contrasted sharply with the lush landscape around it. Security cameras watched the surrounding areas like hawks, and the GUN logo was everywhere.
*I don't get it,* Sonic thought, *Are they _trying_ to attract attention?* He pulled out his security card and swiped it through the card reader on the fence. The door popped open in reply. *Please,* he thought as he strolled up to the building. He performed the same trick on its door and ambled inside the dark building.
"Halt!" a guard yelled. The lights clicked on to find Sonic staring down the barrel of an assault rifle. "What are you doing here," the guard snapped.
"Security business?" Sonic said timidly, waving his card.
"How do we know you're not with Robotnik?" the guard said with skepticism.
At this point another guard chimed in. "Larry, it's _Sonic Hedgehog!_ Why would he be working for Robotnik?" The second guard, short and round compared to the tall, lanky Larry, came into view and grabbed Larry's gun. "Besides," he continued, "you're gun isn't even loaded."
"The gun is always loaded, Bob," Larry said matter-of-factly.
Bob rolled his eyes. "What do you need, Sonic?" he asked.
"Um..." The shock staring down a gun barrel was only now beginning to wear off. "The... Chaos Emerald. Yeah, the Chaos Emerald." He turned to face Larry. "Don't. Ever. Do that. Again. Okay?"
"Sorry," Larry mumbled.
Bob walked back up with the blue Emerald. "Anything else?"
Sonic tossed the emerald from one hand to the other. Suddenly he seized the emerald in his left hand, swung his arm in an arc and yelled, "Chaos Control!"
Time froze for everyone but Sonic, leaving startled looks on Bob and Larry's faces. "Sweet," Sonic muttered. He turned to leave and slid his card through the reader to open the door.
Nothing happened.
Sonic mentally kicked himself. Time had stopped for everything, even the computerized lock on the door. He concentrated hard on the entrance to the park and muttered, "Chaos Relocate." In a flash of blue he teleported away.
* * *
Tails was worn out from flying, so he was walking along at an easy pace. *This is pretty nice,* he thought. *The birds are singing, the kids are playing, the robots are humming-* He froze. He glanced behind himself and saw a crab-like robot with an oversized claw slowly making its way towards him. Tails waited for just the right moment, then he attacked.
In a flash Tails spun in a circle, bringing his tails around in a whip-like fashion. The connected with the robot, sending it into a nearby tree and leaving it smoking on the ground.
"Didn't think I'd see one of these again," Tails muttered, inspecting the robot. Suddenly, a plate on the head of the robot exploded outward and a small, orange flicky flew out.
It glanced down at its former prison, then looked at Tails. "Um..." it said, feeling awkward. "There's a big robot down at the fishing dock, and.. um... bye." It took off into the distance in a flutter of wings.
"Snap," Tails muttered under his breath. "Where's Sonic?" He scanned the horizon and saw Sonic on a distant hill. He waved, and apparently Sonic had seen Tails as well, for he waved back. Two seconds later Sonic appeared at Tails' side.
"Man, I love this thing!" Sonic said, fingering the Emerald.
"Just be careful," Tails said. "A flicky told me there's a robot down at the fishing pier. Should we check it out?"
"How'd the flicky know?"
"A Crabmeat tried to pull a fast one on me. I gave it the what-for and the flicky popped out."
Sonic rolled his eyes. "Eggman's _still_ using those old models? C'mon." He grabbed Tails' wrist and took off running towards the sea. When they came to the cliff, Sonic ran straight over the edge without stopping. He and Tails locked their wrists more securely, and Tails put his tails into motion. They flew like this for about ten seconds, then Sonic told Tails to drop him.
"Why?" Tails yelled back.
"Just do it!"
Tails reluctantly obeyed, ready to dive down and save Sonic from certain doom unless... Sonic aligned his feet just right and landed on one of the handrails to a flight of stairs going down the cliff. The metal strips on his shoes went to work, and Sonic "grinded" down the rail, gaining speed at an incredibly high rate.
"I know I could break my neck doing it," Tails muttered, "but junk! I want a pair of those."
* * *
There was panic and confusion on the fishing dock. Robotnik was driving a tank-sized robot up and down the dock, and the tank was wielding a mallet that was as big as itself. When the innocent bystanders saw Sonic and Tails coming, they gave them a clear path and cheered them on. Sonic, for one of the only times in his life, slowed down and _walked_ through the crowd. The whole time he was raising his hands and behaving like the superstar he was. This continued until Tails forcefully dragged Sonic towards the dock despite the few people in the crowd cheering "Tails!"
"Quit being such a ham," Tails scolded.
"Aww, loosen up," Sonic retorted. "This thing'll be a cakewalk. Gimmie a lift."
Once again Sonic and Tails took to the air. "Fly over it!" Sonic yelled. Tails did so, taking care to avoid the oversized mallet. "Now!" Sonic yelled, and Tails let go. Sonic fell straight for the cockpit dome on the tank, and at the last minute he went into a spin and shattered the glass dome.
He landed on what would pass for the hood and stared Robotnik in the eye. "I believe now is when you boast about how evil your latest plan is? I'm waiting..." He tapped his foot impatiently.
"Nice try," Robotnik answered, mashing a large, red button labeled "Eject." |
d47d773bfa5b459792d844a3fa3244ce | ['9512c6d68a0b41f28488a184a9b57b75'] |
Breathe / There's a light, it's on for you
**Author's Note:**
> For the anon that left a comment on 'When you open me all the power in me moves'. You actually made me finish this today. It might contain a tiny spark of the dynamic you were discribing, and i hope I will write more<3
Magnus’ eyes lose focus, watering over the strain of faded ink and narrow-lettered symbols. It’s gotten dark already, outside and inside the loft, sparse light coming only from the city below; reaching him along with a coldness that spreads from the ceiling-high window panes to where he’s been standing.
_He may not have magic of his own anymore. But he still has his knowledge. He can read. He can still help._
He marks the page with careful hands, then sets the leather-bound volume down onto the sideboard.
It’s been a long, long day.
He thinks how maybe he should make some tea, for when Alec arrives. But this time, somehow, his body just won’t start, like for once- like at last- run out of movement.
He just keeps watching light after light illuminate the homes all around.
It’s how Alec finds him.
Alexander, who is a welcome warm presence behind Magnus, who feels like a long way coming and then almost, almost there. The corners of Magnus’ lips lift in greeting, not facing Alec yet, but Magnus knows. Knows that Alec can tell.
A gentle hand comes to rest where Magnus' neck meets his shoulder, tips of fingers pressing down just a little. Magnus swallows, then speaks through a crooked smile:
“I am doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.”
Alec’s voice is a soft caress in itself, in that higher, breathier register for Magnus alone. His thumb draws a delicate circle between Magnus’ shoulder blades:
“You’re holding it here, ” _Your breath, the tension._ “...and here.” Alec’s arm goes around Magnus from behind, his cheek coming to rest against the side of Magnus’ face and his thumb drags a tingling line along Magnus’ chest muscle right below the collar bone.
Magnus closes his eyes, tries to will his frame to relax and leans his head back against Alec's shoulder.
Alec is not removing his embrace, just keeps his fingers moving in tiny, slow circles, stroking, smoothing out and teasing at knots in a steady, unhurried way. Magnus sinks into the comfort of Alec's body heat as much as his tired mind allows, the calm radiating of off Alec just for him; so much strength, such un-rationed care. He's flooded with it, barely holding on to himself. Alec's voice is almost inaudible against his ear:
“It's important to keep the range of motion in your shoulders.”
_To defend yourself in a fight._ Magnus' stomach tightens, tries and lets it go with an exhale. They’ve been through this in training sessions, but this is not the voice Alec uses during sparring, instructional and brusque and filling the room. This is something else. Tinged at the edges with sadness. This is everything else.
“I know.” Magnus simply says.
“I know you do.” Alec replies and kisses his neck, lingering, just staying there.
* * *
“You need to breathe, love.” Magnus' voice is warm with exhilaration, breaks -almost- over just how lucky, privileged and blessed he feels.
Alec’s body arches in a taut line beneath him, lips open and trembling through aborted little intakes of breaths.
So close to relief, all stuttered, tiny circular moves, and strung tight muscles vibrating with it. Heat clings to both their skin, blurring lines and mending, and it all resonates through Magnus with the very same urgency, and yet. Yet he has come to learn, knows by now, how even more healing it can sometimes be, to release all this tension not in one huge crash but in lapping waves, in increments pushing them both to a plateau, higher up; flooded with tingling, steady, lingering bliss.
So Magnus slows. Holds his movement for a second, and Alec makes that noise that is so much need and so much trust, and Magnus is filled to the brim with love.
He reaches down, presses his fingers into Alec’s abdomen, just above his navel, getting his lover’s attention away from that spot inside, to more of his body, to _here, Alexander, you need to breathe into here._
And he feels Alec’s breath expand against his palm, deep and full and into his core. And he thrusts again, and Alec sighs, sobs.
And it’s everywhere.
* * *
They’ve stopped dancing a while ago. If that was what they were even doing.
By now, they’re in each other’s arms, bodies weightless and heavy and warm, close and aligned. Broad chest touched to shoulders, holding themselves up and together by the strong beating of their hearts against one another.
The others have left, family and friends, and the lights of the city reflect on a thin layer of snow outside, illuminating the night and all it falls upon with a glow so singular to the season.
Magnus has his nose and the side of his face brushing against Alec’s neck, lips nudging the collar of his shirt. Slow breaths mingle with almost kisses -mouth to skin and fine hairs and shivers- and they’re breathing each other in. Smelling like the food they cooked earlier, the scent staying in their clothes and hair, over detergent and cologne and warm skin.
The heat and wetness of Alec’s breath against Magnus’ ear raises goose bumps along his skin; settles peace all along his spine.
And he knows, he will never, never not need this.
**Author's Note:**
> Song: Rhodes – Breathe /live for Burberry 2015
> "Are you holding your breath again?"
> I actually misheard the lyrics in thosefollwing two lines, but just that fit perfectly for me:
> There’s a light, it’s on for you - tell me how do you feel, tell me how do you need to heal
> I just loved the notion of ‘a light that’s left on for you to find your way home, to your place of respite and healing'.
>
> This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, loved the thoughts, but it just wouldn't find a form... but I want to release it out into the world now, as a kind of after christmas present. Exhale.
> Let me know your thoughts if you want!<3 | d5af0c2f113e4d7dba7dc05da9e2b81f | ['9512c6d68a0b41f28488a184a9b57b75'] | Once Alec has made sure there's not a spot on Magnus’ scalp he missed with his caresses, he presses a kiss to the tip of Magnus’ ear, and doesn’t care about the bit of foam he gets into his mouth. He maneuvers Magnus under the stream of water to rinse out the shampoo, shielding Magnus’ eyes with his hand to Magnus’ forehead.
Magnus doesn’t even open his eyes when Alec is done with it.
He must be close to drifting, muscles jumping lightly from relaxation, because he startles himself nearly losing his balance.
“Okay. I think I am clean.” His voice is almost sleep-drugged and Alec laughs softly into his hair.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I could check if you wanted…”
“How very accommodating of you.”
“What can I say, I aim to please.”
_Everything is low, playful voices and gentle tracing fingers, the safe noise of water against the shower curtain and heartbeats against each other._
“We should probably leave before we get all pruned up.”
“We should.”
“Or the water gets cold, the horror.”
“Better not risk it. “
_Everything is warm, wet air and water, and that embrace that feels soul-deep._
They just keep leaning, swaying a little under the spray, cheek to cheek, hands idly wandering, traveling so easy on soap-smoothed skin.
And they stay until their feet tingle from standing on the hard tile floor.
**Author's Note:**
> I mean, look at Alec being all flirty and cheeky.
> No water was saved in this one.
> Sorry if the POV is a little all over the place, but they both had things to share...
>
> Comments are always welcome<3 |
3926ccbfe3724a0ea2eaee39282ea380 | ['952401144bc4462d8376abbc60a3b31a'] | Belle was busy helping Bae with his homework when Mr. Gold arrived home that evening. They had already eaten dinner and were almost finished with the rest of Bae’s Math problems. They had not heard him come in the door. He watched them curiously as he stood in the doorway of the living room. They were sitting in front of the coffee table, with books and papers spread out in front of them. Bae was writing something and Belle was looking over his arm.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right! Just keep in mind that a negative times a negative is always a positive.” She was saying. Bae nodded distractedly. The scene was really quite precious, as much as Gold hated to admit it, Belle made their home life more---homey. Bae and he had been fine before she came, or at least that is what he liked to tell himself, but Belle did bring a certain charm to Caislean a’ Or, as much as he disliked that particular admission.
“Hello.” Was all he said, but it startled both Belle and Bae out of the homework daze, and they quickly looked up at him. They both smiled. Bae bounced up and went over to him. They hugged and Bae whispered “It’s good to have you home, Papa!”
Belle was still standing where she was. “How are you, Miss French?” he asked her. It had only been a few weeks since she had broken off her engagement to George Gaston. He had been wondering how she had been getting along, acknowledging that the circumstances must have pained her to extremities. He had asked in his emails to his young son, but Bae was just a 14 year old boy, and as perceptive as his boy could be, his emails were usually terribly vague and left his father asking more questions at the end then he had had at the beginning.
A faint pink rose to the young woman’s cheeks, but she responded with, “I’m well, thank you. How was your trip?”
“It went well. Really quite tiring. Much of the same old same old. Very few new developments. I think I’ll just go unpack and get ready for bed and leave you two to finish up with Bae’s homework.”
Was that a frown on Miss French’s face? Robert couldn’t tell. Certainly it was just his imagination. There was no possible way that she could be disappointed that he wasn’t joining them in the living area while they worked on Bae’s homework. Besides, he had had a long trip and he wanted to rest.
“Alright, Papa. I hope to talk to you more tomorrow, is that ok?” Bae asked. Robert couldn’t help but smile. His boy wanted to spend time with him. “Of course, Bae. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?”
Bae grinned back at him, and nodded. Robert looked over at Belle. “Goodnight, Miss French.” Belle gave him a small smile. “Goodnight, Mr. Gold.”
He went up to his small bedroom and began to unpack. Bae wanted to talk with him tomorrow. It wasn’t unusual for his boy to crave some fatherly attention, but it sure made him feel wonderful. He wanted to spend time with him?! Well, why not make the day extra special then? Why not take Bae to Glasgow to see the sights? Bae had obviously been there before, but he hadn’t gotten to explore the town in a more in depth way. He was mainly there for such things as errands, church, the usual. There were plenty more wonders that Glasgow was waiting to show his boy. Yes, that is what he would do.
Now the only thing he had left to do was to decide who to take to a business associate’s, Regina Mills’, pesky Winter Ball that he was required to attend. Though no escort was required, it would be highly awkward for the president of Gold Industries to show up alone. Mr. Gold conceded that he would only bring one to save his pride.
~~~~
Bae grinned knowingly at Belle as they watched Mr. Gold walk out of the room. She turned slowly back to the table. “How about we finish this up, huh?”
“You have a crush on my Da.” Was all he said, but a blush immediately crept up to her cheeks.
“What?! No, Bae, that is an absolutely ridiculous idea. I hardly know you’re father.”
“Suit yourself…”
They settled back down by the table and Belle tried to concentrate on the Algebra problems that Bae had to finish, but her mind was miles away. What had gotten into Bae. Why in the world would he think that she had a crush on his father? She barely knew Mr. Gold, and she had just broken off her engagement with George. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to be in a new relationship, least of all with her employer!
“Belle?” Bae’s voice shook her out of the daze she was in.
“Yes, Bae?”
“Well, ya see. The academy is holding a dance next month. I wanted to ask Emma, but I don’t know how to dance. Do you think you could teach me?”
Belle smiled. “Of course, Bae! It’s a lucky thing that I just happen to be the best ballroom dancer in the whole of the United States.”
Bae chuckled. “Sure you are.”
Belle grabbed her phone and went to her Youtube app. “Hmm lets see. I think we better start off with the Swing. That is the easiest to learn. OH! YES! This is the perfect song to learn it to.” She clicked a few more things on her phone, then set it down on the arm of the couch and stuck out her hand to Bae. | 2033bfd040a74088b21faaad528bf673 | ['952401144bc4462d8376abbc60a3b31a'] | Belle fairly RAN to her library and buried herself in the loveseat by the fireplace. She was hoping to become a small speck of dust and never be seen by another being again. Her thoughts overtook her before she could help it though.
There was something sweet, and almost kind, but he was mean, and he was coarse, and unrefined, but now he was dear. She was so unsure. She wondered why she hadn’t seen it there before. It was new, and a bit alarming. Who’d have ever thought that this could be? True, Mr. Gold was no Prince Charming, but there definitely something in him that she simply hadn’t seen.
~~~~
Alone in his bedroom, Mr. Gold practically slumped in his armchair. At dinner he thought he saw her glance his way several times, and when they’d touched she hadn’t shuddered at his hand. No, it couldn’t be, he’d just ignore it, but then again she’d never looked at him that way before.
~~~~
In the kitchen, Mrs. Potts and Bae sat giggling. Mrs. Potts spoke first. “Well who’d have thought…”
“Well who, INDEED?”
“And who’d have guessed they’d come together on their own?
“We’ll wait and see… just a few days more.”
“There’s definitely something there that wasn’t there before.”
~~~~
It was ten at night. Belle had just finished Sense and Sensibility, and she decided she wanted to look at the second story of books in the library. She made her way up the stairs and then started up one of the tall ladders so that she could reach the top shelf of books. She was studiously going over several different titles when she heard a voice behind her say, “What on earth are you doing, dearie?”
The voice had startled her and she quickly lost her footing. She was falling. Any second now, she would hit the floor and most likely die. So much for enjoying the library.
But instead of feeling a great and painful impact, she felt like she had suddenly stopped in mid-air. She slowly opened her eyes and looking up, her eyes met Mr. Gold’s. Mr. Gold had caught her. He staggered a bit, the weight of her being just a bit much for his bad leg, but he did not fall, and he did not let her fall.
In one long, breathless moment, Belle’s blue eyes stared into Gold’s dark brown ones. She tried not to think about how perfectly she fit in his arms. She made her brain think. “Th…thank you, Mr. Gold.” He hastily put her down. “Thank you.”
“It’s no matter. I was just looking for a business book that I thought I had left in here. I’ll leave you alone now. Goodnight, Miss French.”
And then he was gone, practically flying to get out of the room. There was no doubt in Belle’s mind now. Mr. Gold must hate her. She didn’t even want to think about how much damage her fall had done to his leg. If only he hadn’t startled her. She felt utterly helpless. It was a good thing Mr. Gold would be leaving tomorrow morning. She didn’t know if she had the heart to see him. She’d be much too embarrassed by her fall to look him in the eyes.
She turned from the bookshelf just in time to see Bae’s head disappear behind one of the highbacked chairs near the fireplace. Quietly, she descended the stairs and snuck up by the chair. Suddenly she whipped around it and grabbed Bae by the arms before he could beat a hasty retreat.
“You have some _major_ explaining to do, mister blister.”
“What do you mean?” Bae asked, ever the picture of innocence.
“You know EXACTLY what I mean Bae. What on earth are you doing? Why are you acting like this? What would prompt you to lie to both your father and me and pretend to be sick so that you could force us into having a dinner together?
“Maybe the fact that he smiles more when you are around and I’ve noticed the way you look at him and how you blush whenever he is near, especially when he gave you the library and when he caught you just now.”
“YOU WERE WATCHING US?”
“Of course; why wouldn’t I? I mean if I am the terrible sprite you expect me to be, why wouldn’t you think I’d be spying on you as well to plan my next move.”
“You got Mrs. Potts in on this too, didn’t you?”
Bae blushed a deep red. “Yes, I did.”
“Oh, Bae… I know you want your father to be happy, and that’s very noble of you, it really is, but for one thing, he is my employer, and having feelings for him would be wrong. Secondly, I’m pretty sure he hates me, so your attempts are futile, at best.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Belle!”
“Bae…”
“So you admit you have feelings for him?”
“I never said that.”
“But you didn’t deny it, either.”
“Bae, we are not having this discussion right now. Off to bed.”
Bae hung his head and reluctantly tramped off to bed. Belle KNEW he had been up to something. She was sorry to dash his hopes, but there were no two ways about it. There would never be anything more than friendship between her and Mr. Gold. But then again, _those eyes!_ No! She must stop! WHAT HAD GOTTEN INTO HER?
~~~~
When Gold got back to his bedroom to finish packing, he had completely forgotten about the business tome he had been looking for when he went to the library. He would NEVER go into the library again. |
bfb1c14b7499434ea847fcbfbfd12dda | ['953192876c1a4a7baf4f3a591ca789a5'] | The older man pointed to the folder in Harry's lap. "Look through that a bit more, I got time." That was a big lie but Harry didn't say anything about it and began to look through the pages again. Most of the kids were taken many years ago, they were almost as old as he was, some still in their late teens. As he flipped through the photos of the missing kids one picture caught his eye. "Noticed him too huh?"
A pale boy with very light colored hair and silver eyes stared back at Harry with a unfocused gaze, slightly slouched posture. "This kid. . .Leslie Withers? He looks just like a Malfoy." Harry lifted his head to the Auror with a steady gaze. "What are you getting at? Just be straight with me, Proudfoot."
He nodded and took a deep breath. "We are almost sure this is a Malfoy, unfortunately we can't confirm it until we match Leslie's and Draco Malfoy's blood. We suspect that he is not the only kid to be abandoned by the Pureblood families. We have children being dumped for having magic and for not having magic in this one hospital. Beacon."
"Why?" Harry had to ask. Why this hospital? And a place in the States as well.
"We can only speculate but that's why I need you your help. These people were abandoned right towards the end of the war. A mental hospital is a perfect place to hide dirty little secrets, unfortunately. Leslie is one of the only kids alive that we could get some information from; you're good with kids." Proudfoot paused to let Harry soak it up. "I think something else is going on, all of these magical children, muggleborn and possible squibs, are being thrown into one place specific. That is not a coincidence."
Harry couldn't argue with that. "I'm getting that feeling too." His eyes focused back at the pale boy before snapping the folder shut. "Alright, so I go? What do you need me to do that your own Aurors couldn't do?"
"I had already sent them out to originally investigate, that's how we got this information now. But the staff and doctors are too familiar with the Aurors now for them to dig deeper. Your face is new, you're good with kids. And quite frankly, you tend to have better luck than most." Proudfoot met Harry's eyes. "I know we can't save the lives already lost but what we can do is get justice for them and for our world. It's another step to right the wrongs that was brought up our world."
He really couldn't fault that logic. "Okay, so what would be the game plan be then? I won't be able to just walk through there, even I'm not that good."
Proudfoot smiled. "I have a plan already set out. Had to use a muggle phone for a first time in years," he shivered dramatically. "They are still bizarre. Anyway, I got a hold of the captain of the local authority and gave them the basic info. You'll be playing as a special investigator for a few linking missing persons cases that connects to the Beacon Hospital. They are going to pair you up with a couple of their bests to help. A little back up could come in handy." Harry agreed. "I have a portkey set up to send you over when you're all packed and ready."
It sounded simple enough for the young man. But if Harry was aware of a few things in his life it was that he tended to be about as lucky as he was unlucky. Most of the time causing him more work then is really needed.
"So jump over the big pond, meet up with a few muggles, search the hospital for secrets. . .then what? It's never that simple." He pointed out.
The Auror rumbled in agreement. "Too true, but no it's more than that. We think you'll mostly be gone for a few weeks at least. It's definitely not going to be a in-and-out job and be home for dinner. Another reason to send you out."
"I'm not even an Auror anymore, Proudfoot. There's a reason I left here." The pressure, the constant attack at his performance; Harry couldn't handle it anymore.
"I know, but just take this one case. I have nobody else I could send and this could really open the eyes of the public of what's really going on outside our tiny world. It could encourage others to take action and fuckin' help more. If nothing else, it'll make you look good."
Green eyes rolled at Proudfoot. "You know more than most that I don't give two fucks about that." Both chuckled. Harry casted a glance to his full hands and took a second to think it over. There really was no one else that could take the case, and the deaths of their people, the forgotten children, could not be brushed over. Harry already knew what his answer was going to be. "Alright, I'll take the job. When do I need to leave?"
The older man gave a subtle sigh of relief and reached behind himself to a shelf and pulled out a leather wallet. "This is the portkey, all of the information is already inside. Pack anything and everything you think you might need. This is a mental hospital, we don't know what the patients, or doctors, could try to do to you. Keep the folder with you, it has all the information we could gather, it's up to you to get everything else. The activation of the portkey is hospital." Harry gave Proudfoot a disappointed stare. "What, you know I'm not cleaver enough for that bullshite. Anyway, I expect regular updates. Keep in touch if something happens, you know the drill. They are expecting you tomorrow morning." | 1224888a533443489f6d51c2096e463d | ['953192876c1a4a7baf4f3a591ca789a5'] | Thunder rolled above them, snapping them both to reality. "Look, you can ask me twenty questions later. We should find the others or at least some civilization first, then I will answer what I can, deal?" Harry held out his hand and Sebastian took only a second to grasp it. Noting again, the warmth between them.
"I'll hold you to that. Let's keep moving then." As they continued it didn't take long for them to come across a small bit of light and went straight for it. The detective found an old oil lamp and picked it up, hardly any cracks on the glass. The area now more lit, they could see a man walking towards a tent in the distance. "Hey!" Sebastian called out. They both made their way down the rocks, slipping and Harry catching Sebastian when he began to tumble. "Thanks."
"No problem. That looked like our driver." The wizard threw out.
Sebastian nodded, "Connelly, come on." Swiftly but silently they moved to the tent, the disturbing shadow revealing something disgusting was happening inside. Harry saw the detective get close enough to pick up a gun from the ground and slowly rose up. "Connelly?" The bent over figure then dropped a head of the nameless body, half eaten, and rose up as well.
"Shite," Harry muttered. Sebastian didn't hesitate to raise the gun and take three swift shots to Connelly's Head. Killing him instantly. "Bloody hell, do you have any idea what happened to him?"
"No, fuck me." Harry had to do everything in his power not to respond to that. The both of them stepped inside to take a quick glance around. Harry felt pity for the dead men and had to force himself back in the present. "Hey, Potter," driving Harry's attention away from the bloody scene. On the other side of the tent was Sebastian holding up a jar of something green in a thick consistency. "Could you use your, eh, magic to see what this thing is?"
Seeing no reason to say no Harry walked over to use the same spell he used earlier on the syringe. "It's seems to be a enhancing agency. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's not poisonous." The detective took that and considered the jar before pocketing it. "Why?" Harry simply asked.
Sebastian only shrugged. "I've seen it before, elsewhere. Might need it later." Since Harry didn't want to fight about the man's strange easiness on taking strange, green things, Harry moved out from the tent and spotted a cave nearby.
"This looks to be the only way from here. Should we go?"
"Might as well, let me get the lantern on then we'll go." Once the light flooded them again they marched forward and into the narrow cave. It was a short trek until Harry spotted Leslie first, both surprised and much relived to see the boy alive and mostly okay.
The pale boy flinch as they neared him and mumbled, "Hurts. . .hurts. . ." That was then they noticed a thick line of wire right at chest level with them.
"Whoa," Sebastian took a step back. "Were you warning us about this? Your Leslie right? I'm a police officer. Maybe we should help you." Leslie only repeated him. "Shit, how am I going to get you to a hospital?"
The word hospital seemed to trigger something in the boy. He grew frightened and shuffled back, whispering, then ran away. "Wait, Leslie! Don't run off!" Harry tried to follow but the wire kept him in place.
"What the fuck?" They followed the wire that was attached to a metal disk on the side of the wood frame. "I'm pretty sure this is an explosive trap."
"Can you disarm it?" Harry certainly couldn't.
"I think so, stand back and give me a second." Not wanting to be in the line of fire, Harry took two steps back and let the man take a shot at it. He noticed that the wire was high enough that they could crouch under it if needed. Something to remember. After a few seconds the wire fell off and the metal disk fell to the floor in a mess of parts.
"Damn, I'll be honest, I'm impressed." Sebastian gave Harry a slightly cocky smirk over his shoulder and then proceeded on. The trail went a little steep but it was easy to walk down. Soon enough they were back outside again, so they sprinted forward hoping to catch up with the poor boy. Sebastian only stopped to pick up a box of matches next to another corpse before continuing on. They reached a shack with a bloody symbol painted on the door and went inside. On the table was another jar of the green gel and a small booklet next to a very nice mirror that was a bit out of place considering the state of the shack.
Sebastian didn't hesitate to go for the jar while Harry picked up the book and read out loud, "Finally got my gold badge. Detective Sebastian Castellanos, I like the sound of that. Seems a long time coming, but they say that I'm one of the fastest ever to rise through the ranks." Sebastian moved over to Harry. "Is this yours?" Confused at the book appearing out of nowhere.
Sebastian looked just as confused. "Yes, what the fuck is that doing here." Then he flinched and his gaze went straight for the mirror behind Harry.
"Detective? Sebastian? What-" before Harry could finish, the man was gone in a flash of light, scarring the shit out of Harry. "Sebastian! Where did you go?!" Cautious and a bit fearful at being suddenly alone, he considered moving on to find Leslie but only moments later Sebastian came back in another flash of light. "You-Where did you go?! You just-disappeared!" |
ee404c1123e64aa0a8fbd332f671e069 | ['95344ccb4b9545dca16d14c334940ad0'] | > Awkward shit and Patrick's side of meeting Pete. Ugh.
On the way to the morgue Joe began telling Patrick more about the case, but Patrick just looked out the window and tuned out. He already knew the basics of the case and would find out more as it progressed. Plus, he was worried about what his new partner would be like. Would they even get along? Would they be too serious or too silly?
“Patrick, are you even listening to me?” Joe asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Uh, yeah, yeah. Something about the case.” He replied. Patrick could feel his anxiety bubbling up every second. He regret taking on this case, no matter how interesting it was.
“Are you okay? You don't have to take this case if you don't want to. Andy and I could take it, you know.” Joe said with concern.
Patrick shook his head. He wanted this case. He just didn't want a crime partner. “Nah, it's fine Joe, really. I really do want this case. It's just…” He trailed off. He knew that Joe knew what he was going to say.
“Patrick, I don't know how it feels to have someone like that die. But, I do know that Travie would have wanted you to move on. Pete’s not a bad guy and the same thing isn't going to happen with him. Give him a chance, please?”
Patrick sighed. He knew Joe was right but, Patrick’s a stubborn guy. He wasn't just going to let some guy into his life that easily.
“I’ll give him one chance. If he crosses me once, he's gone, alright?” He bargains.
Joe huffed.“Fine. But, I think you're going to like him. Like I said, he's not a bad guy. He’s cool and really nice.” Joe smiled at Patrick through the driver’s mirror to reassure him. Patrick gives him a small smile.
“You’re a good friend, Joe.” He said. Joe chuckled.
“I know,” Patrick rolled his eyes that and Joe laughed again.
“We’re about to be there, okay? You got nothing to worry about, just do what you do best.” Patrick nodded. He could do that. He had no problem with that.
Joe parked in the parking lot as another car pulled up. Patrick guessed it was Pete’s. He was still reluctant to meet him but, he told Joe that he would at least give him a chance. He unbuckled his seat and got out of the car. He stood next to Joe as a man walked up to them.
Patrick’s heart skipped a beat for a second. This guy was handsome. He had short black hair that was spiked and beautiful sparkling whiskey brown eyes. He wasn’t much taller than Patrick either. He wore tight black leather pants and shiny black dress shoes. He also had on a white button up with a black tie and a gray & charcoal black blazer. He had some scruff of facial hair on his chin which indicated that he hadn't shaved recently but, Patrick thought he looked great with it.
“Hey, Joe.” The guy greeted. He hadn't looked at Patrick yet.
“Hey, Pete. This is Patrick, “ Joe had gestured to Patrick, “your new partner.”
Patrick let out a breathe and extended his hand. “Hi, it's nice to finally meet you.”
Pete looked him and grinned. Man, what a grin, Patrick thought. Pete stared at him for a second, then shook his hand.
“Likewise. It's nice to put a face to the name.” He remarked. Patrick smiled at him. Maybe this won't be that bad, Patrick thought, he seems nice.
“Right, well when you two are done making heart eyes at each other we have an important case to take care of.” Joe smirked.
“Oh, fuck off Trohman.” Patrick groaned but, he couldn’t help smiling still.
Joe smiled. “No, I don’t think I will. Now, come on, seriously. You have a case to get started.”
Joe turned and started towards the building. Patrick flipped Joe off quickly and followed Joe, Pete beside him. When they all probably smelled when they entered was embalming chemicals. Patrick was lucky he didn’t have a sensitive nose.
_________________________________________________________________________
After examining the bodies and looking through their medical files they decided to call the victim’s emergency contacts. Which is why Patrick was on the other side of the room calling a person named Terrance Long. This was the second call and he thought maybe if the person saw the same number twice in a row that just maybe they’d answer. But, by the voicemail that had answered him, he suggested no.
“No answer?” Pete asked. Patrick jumped and whacked him in the face on instinct. Pete had fallen to the ground holding his nose. He groaned.
“Shit, Pete, I’m sorry.” Patrick apologised. He held out his hand to help Pete up. The latter took Patrick’s outstretched hand and Patrick helped him up. Pete rubbed his the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, it’s no problem, man. I shouldn’t have come up behind you like that.” He dropped his hand from his face and continued, “As I was asking, no answer?”
Patrick shook his head and put his phone back in his pocket. “We should go find him. I’ll ask Saporta if he can get any information on the guy.” Patrick glanced around. Joe is gone. Fuck.
“Hey, uh, where’s Joe?” He asked puzzled. Joe was his ride. Patrick groaned internally. He needed to go talk to Gabe and he wasn’t really up to a phone call right now.
“He went to go see if Hurley could help us out with anything.” Pete answered. Patrick opened his mouth to say something but, Pete beat him to it. “Do you need a ride?” He asked. Patrick bit his lip.
“No, it’s fine. I can take a cab.” He said. Great save Patrick, he thought.
“I can give you a ride, Patrick. Besides, it’ll take a while for a cab to get here.” Pete said with a look of hurt almost.
Patrick shakes his head. He didn't want to upset Pete but, he can't expect Patrick to just instantly trust him just because he's hot. That's not how things work. “Pete, it’s alright. It’s not like I haven’t taken a cab before.”
Pete stepped a little closer to him. Patrick stepped a bit back. Pete’s look of almost-hurt got more intense.
“Patrick, I know that you don’t want a partner. Joe told me about what happened the last time you had one and, I can assure you that nothing like that will happen between us.” Pete said softly.
“Pete, it’s not that, I promise. I-I just don’t want to bother you about giving me a ride is all.” Patrick stutters. He’s not lying but, he’s not giving the full truth either. He really doesn’t want to bother Pete about it. It’s not a big deal anyway.
“Whatever. Just know that you can trust me, okay?” Pete asked softly. Patrick nodded and faked a small smile to Pete.
“Yeah, I know. I got to go, okay? I’ll catch up with you later.” He said and didn’t even give Pete a chance to reply before he scurried out of the building to go hail a cab.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this took so long and i am so sorry i have had the worst week and last weekend sucked okay i was going to upload it last saturday but i didn't the energy to even finish writing i am such a fucking mess ugh | f84f6053040e46d7ac975017a4759b4f | ['95344ccb4b9545dca16d14c334940ad0'] | the sword- i mean zucchini at my side
**Author's Note:**
> hi i havent posted shit on ao3 in a LONG time so give me a break i am a small scholar trying to get their education thank u (also i know the first chap is short pls dont hurt me)
robin had enough of the cafeteria at their university. the food was always marketed as “exotic, eastern, homemade” cuisine on tuesdays, “spicy, authentic feroxi” on wednesdays and “traditional ylissian” on fridays. none of it is even close to being traditional to any of the cultures. and the people who make it are ylissian! they should at least know ylissian cuisine!
they've complained to cordelia about it a million times and even though she says she’s not bothered by it, robin wishes there was somewhere they could go so the could stop complaining so much about it.
“what if you just do what frederick does and make your own lunch? he's not much for bear meat stew so he brings his own stuff from home.” cordelia suggests one day while they're in the library. robin lifts their head up from the fake wooden table. “i don’t have parents, cordelia and i can't afford to buy meal prep food all the time. we're in college.” robin grumbles, putting his head back down on the table.
“well, you could always try chrom? he’s a meal prep junkie that lives across the hall from me. i used to have a crush on him our freshman year. he usually brings me or other people in the hall food when he realises he has too much,” she giggles,” he’s a little dumb sometimes but i think he also does it on a purpose too.”
robin lifts their head up slightly. “you didn't mention him to me sooner, why?” cordelia giggles again and turns a page in her book. “i didn't know if you would like him or not. he's a rich kid, but he isn't a stuck up one. his family isn’t either but a lot of people think they are. some people in our hall refuse when chrom brings them food because they think he’s being fake and charitable, but he's just being genuine.” cordelia finishes.
robin suddenly gets up and grabs cordelia’s hands. “let's go then! i’m a hungry bitch!” |
4a9b14b03c3f4993a92ca12b36204579 | ['95397c80dc45434a8f4a02bf15c31a25'] |
Sweet Creature
**Author's Note:**
> I apologise in advance because this is kind of angsty. This is also my first time writing something like this so please let me know what you think.
He’d passed the Riverdale sign hours ago, the town no longer shrinking in his rearview mirror. Jughead had thought that leaving would be a tremendous event, an act of independence and finality, but his victory was bittersweet and left a sour taste in his mouth. He reached over and turned on the tape, hoping the noise would help distract him from the darkness of his thoughts. Of course, he had no such luck.
The stereo in the old truck hadn’t worked for as long as Jughead could remember, leaving only the tape deck. Betty had always loved making tapes full of songs for every occasion; road trips, birthdays, bad days, just because. They’d been driving around last summer listening to one of her tapes when the car had finally given up, trapping the plastic rectangle within itself and refusing to let it go. Jughead could probably recite all of the songs on that tape. They’d listened to it so many times, their only option to drown out the deafening silence which had a tendency to fall between the couple in the recent months.
_Sweet creature_
_Had another talk about where it's going wrong_
"Betts, I'm not doing this again. There's nothing here for me anymore; no family, no friends, a job that doesn’t even require me to be in this godforsaken town. I have nothing here except you. But I can't keep having this same fight. Can't you see what it's doing to us? Doing to you? I’ve hardly seen you smile since the summer and I know you’re miserable, even if you hate to admit it. How can you not at least consider this?" Jughead's voice was strong and broken, cold and loving. Betty could hear the pain behind his every word but she wasn't giving in, just like she hadn't given in any other time they’d had this same conversation over the last few months.
He knew how she felt about this.
"Am I not enough for you?" She sounded quiet and unsure, the complete opposite of how she's felt only moments before. She could feel her nails curling into her palms. If she pressed just that little bit harder they'd reach their goal, allow the scarlet drops to pour from her palms and drop onto the too white carpet which still looked new despite them living on it for the last four years.
"God, Betts, how could you even think that? You are my everything and I love you so much but I can't keep doing this. I need a change and I need ... I need to get out of here. I feel like this town is pulling me under and you're the only one who can stop me from drowning but that's not fair on you. We need a fresh start somewhere new because I can't even imagine what’s going to happen to us if we don’t." He stepped towards her and reached for her hands, prying them open like he had so many times over the last ten years. He felt Betty relax beneath his touch, waiting for her to take a deep breath and praying to whatever god was listening that when she opened her eyes they wouldn't be filled with tears. None of the gods were listening that night.
"We’re both too stubborn to change our minds." Her eyes finally overflowed and a flood of tears spilled down her face, taking her carefully applied make up with it. "We’re both so stubborn, Jug, and it's killing us." She was looking straight at him, ignoring the mess of her face and slipping her hands from his, letting go of his final hope at redemption. His eyes stung with the threat of tears but he refused to give in, refused to finally admit that it was over.
_We don't know where we're going_
_But we know where we belong_
Jughead looked across at the empty passenger seat and could almost see her sitting there, her arm stretched out the open window as her golden hair whipped around her face, as if the wind wanted to make her one of it’s own. When she wasn’t singing her laughter would mask the sound flowing from the truck, becoming the only music in Jughead's ears. He remembered when she’d first made that damned tape. She’d been so excited for him to hear it that she’d bounced over to the truck and jammed the tape in before either of them could say a word. As soon as the music started to drift out of the tinny speakers she’d leant over and kissed his cheek.
“I know you said that we already have too many tapes at home but we can’t have a proper road trip without a proper road trip tracklist so I just had to make one and here it is.” She was practically bubbling and her excitement was contagious, Jughead smiling softly at the sight of her looking so carefree.
It had been months since he’d seen her like this. Everything had been slowly piling up and he could tell she was almost at her breaking point. The Register, Polly, the twins, her mother, Kevin moving, and an infinite amount of other small things that had a tendency to get under her skin and stay there tauntingly, whispering their snide remarks until she finally released them with her nails and let them fall to the ground in thick scarlet drops. | 071e7d079d7945b7844ecb847e6d6b19 | ['95397c80dc45434a8f4a02bf15c31a25'] | “I missed this,” Betty confessed loud enough for everyone to hear. Ronnie looked up from her magazine and Archie stopped drumming his fingers on the wheel, almost as if they were only just noticing where they were. A pensive silence fell over the car as they all revelled in their surroundings.
Archie turned off the main road a few minutes later and parked on the side of an old gravel track, a line of trees standing between them and the beach. They all bowled out of the car and grabbed their things. Laughter filled the salty air as they raced towards the sand, Veronica carefully tiptoeing her way through the foliage the other three had bashed through moments before. The beach was empty of people, their only companions were the crabs which scurried away from them and the empty shells which littered the ground.
The boys quickly stripped off their shirts, pushing and shoving each other as they made their way to the water, Betty not far behind. Archie and Jughead froze as soon as their toes got wet, both of them deciding it was too cold and standing awkwardly on the damp sand as the water swirled around their feet. Betty kept on running, her laughter hanging in the air as she ducked under the waves, resurfacing with an expression on her face that Jughead could only describe complete and utter happiness.
“How the hell is she doing that?” Archie exclaimed, refusing to move from his spot in the shallows.
“I’m pretty sure she’s half fish,” Jughead answered as he slowly waded out towards her, stopping every so often to get used to the cold. Betty got sick of waiting and dove under the waves, reappearing right in front of Jughead and pulling him under before he got the chance to register her presence. He came up spluttering and splashing, his arms flailing as he tried to get rid of a mouthful of water.
“What was that for?” He asked while trying to scrape the salty taste out of his mouth. Betty giggled and swam around in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she treaded water.
“Calling me a fish,” she said pointedly, her eyes stern but her cheerful smile giving her away.
“Cutest fish I’ve ever seen,” Jughead said sweetly, leaning forward and pressing their lips together, his hands resting on her hips under the water as he pulled her against him. She pulled back slightly, her lips still ghosting his but not quite touching.
“That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Betty teased. Jughead could feel her smirk against his lips so he leaned forward slightly, connecting them once again.
“Now we both know that’s not true Betts,” Jughead whispered inside the kiss, feeling the heat in Betty’s cheeks as her blush came to the surface. She kissed him harder, the space between them non-existent. Archie and Veronica were the last thing on their mind as they both craved more, two bodies melting into one as the water moved around them.
“You are looking way too hot right now,” Jughead whispered against her ear, his lips following the shell of it before moving down to her neck, softly, slowly. Betty hummed in approval as she pulled him impossibly closer. She couldn’t help herself and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling them further under the water. Jughead somehow managed to drag them backwards, taking them closer to the shore but stopping as soon as his feet touched the ground, his lips never leaving her skin.
“Jug,” Betty mumbled into his ear. “Jug, we need to stop.” He chuckled as he pulled back slightly, Betty still able to feel his lips ghosting her collar bone.
“Probably a good idea, we both know where that was going,” he breathed out, the feeling of his words against her skin making her shiver. Betty reluctantly unwrapped herself from him, the fire still in her eyes as she slowly swam away from him, never breaking eye contact. She stopped after a few moments and floated on her back, her eyes open wide as though she was searching for answers in the clouds that were scattered across the sky above her.
Jughead watched her for a few moments, revelling in the peaceful feeling she seemed to be experiencing. He waded out to join her, floating on his back beside her once he got close enough.
Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, floating next to each other and soaking up that weightless feeling they both knew was incredibly limited. The clouds sailed over them, ever changing as the wind carried them through the sky. Archie yelling from the beach was the only thing to break their seemingly endless moment, the sound of his voice dragging them out of their thoughts and sucking them back into the real world.
“Guys! Come here!” He called out. Betty and Jughead looked at each other, rolling their eyes before swimming back to the shore.
“Ron won’t come in the water,” Archie whined once they got within earshot.
“You called us all the way back here for that?” Jughead asked, his voice dripping with disapproval.
“Well she won’t listen to me and she can’t come all the way out to the beach and then not even get in the water.”
“Arch you do realise that you haven’t been in the water,” Betty pointed out with a cheeky smile, unable to take the ridiculous situation seriously.
“But that’s different. I’m _going_ to go in the water, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Ron is just downright refusing,” Archie stated as though it was perfectly logical reasoning.
“I went to the salon yesterday and I am not spending all of Daddy’s money on my nails and hair for it to be ruined by the dirty salt bath you guys seem to love,” Ronnie said from her beach chair, not even looking up from her magazine. |
8d4d4d996edb4642ac25b7bc261d063a | ['95468dc17367412aa6c0282617e6a4a0'] | “SHIT! BYE!” the young Beta throws the phone shattering it and glares at Derek. “You. Slept. With. Stiles! And then we kicked him out! So when did you sleep with him Derek!?! WHEN!?!”
“I… the… day… be-before… we… k-kicked… him… out…” the alpha wheezed between each word as he tried to control his breathing.
“WHAT!?!” Isaac collapsed and hit the floor hard as he stared at the gloomy man. Derek whines, “wh-what… do… I… do… now…?” Those words irritated the curly haired boy as his wolf took over. He turned into his beta form and slowly crawled to the alpha with glowing eyes; Isaac’s growling pervaded the loft. Derek watched in horror as his beta scuttled closer, but he didn’t have the strength or the will to fight back. Isaac grabbed the ‘sour-wolf’ by the collar and began punching him in the face repeatedly as Isaac tried desperately to rein in his wolf. He finally caught hold and transformed back, but not before getting one last hit. Slowly Isaac’s eyes filled with tears as he glared at Derek.
“Win him back… that is what you’re going to do, DEREK! Win him back”, cried out the beta as he whipped away the tears, “but first… you have to face the pack.” Derek grimace, but he couldn’t turn back now. He made a horrible mistake and he had to face the consequence. The grouch of a man slowly got up and restrained his breathing. He had to see Stiles, even though he controlled his instincts for these past couple of weeks (so he caved once in a while, but it was only to see if his mate was okay); the need to see Stiles was getting too much to bear. “Isaac, I need you to call the pack for an emergency meeting… in about an hour.”
“Where are you going!?!” Isaac shouted at Derek as he moved to the elevator.
“Stiles,” was the last word he said as the elevators closed.
Derek drove fast as he raced to the Stilinski home. He didn’t care that his beautiful black Camaro made screeching noises when it made sharp turns. He finally made it into the parking lot with a small scratch from giving the Stilinski’s mailbox a love tap. Derek’s wolf wasn’t helping him at the moment, so he climbed to the roof the old fashion way. He lightly sneaks to the window like he has done before. He slinks it open and notices a red string about to activate a trap. He quickly shuts the window and peers inside to see Lydia glaring at the wall with red strings that connected to the trap. She placed the coded letter against her red lips as she concentrated deeply in front of her. Derek jumps off the roof; he moves to the front door and enters as he heads to Stiles room.
Lydia Martin was sitting in Stiles desk chair as she stared at the wall with her name on it. It was filled with equations that would take days to solve, but she was determined on finding the similarities within them, then solving the equations. “Why use these famous mathematicians? Hmm… maybe the names.”
Silence…
“Stiles ran away and left clues to find him in this craziness.” Lydia said without looking at the man at the door.
“What… where would he g-”
“Shut up, idiot!” she snapped as she glared at him, “this is your fault!”
He snarled, but whimpered because it was the truth... “Your right… it’s my fault.”
“Don’t get sentimental now, Alpha. We need everyone to be in their top physique, including you.” He nods and stares at Lydia’s codes.
“Where is Stiles?”
“Gone, vanished, left, away, disappeared… want more words to describe run away?”
Derek stayed silent for a while, before asking “have you tried using your banshee powers?”
“You idiotic genius… I could kiss you.” she gets up and gently taps on one of the strings. She hears the whispers of stiles coming from the thread as she continues to tap it. The whispers get louder as she sees an image of stiles in front of the mirror. ‘Pregnant… preg-NANT… PREGNANT!’ Her body vibrates, until she lets out a horrifying scream.
“No… no… not my stiles,” she cries out and sobs uncontrollably. Derek grabs Lydia’s cellphone and dials Isaac number.
“Isaac… change of plans; pack is meeting at Stiles house, NOW!” An unintentional growl comes out of his throat as he places the phone done. ‘What have I done? I want my li’l red riding hood.’
“YOU!” the strawberry blonde goddess' body trembled as she glared daggers at the older man. “Pregnant… When was it Derek? Was it when he almost died or when his father went to the hospital? Huh?” she jabs her delicate finger into his chest.
“Umm… the night after the secret meeting,” he fidgeted as her trembling gets worse.
“YOU ASS!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and then fixes her looks; a proper lady must always look her best. “You are going to fix this, Hale… one way or another, you’re bringing Stiles home.” she gave the ‘Sour-wolf’ a look that stated ‘I’ll castrate you and bury you alive’. All Derek could do was nod; He did this and he needed to fix it. He just hopes Stiles will forgive him.
3. Here One Moment and Gone the Other
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter gave me a bit of trouble, but I tried my best. I had to get really into a different mindset from the second chapter. so, I hope you like it. also, the turtles appear, heh.
>
> I do not own any of the characters or the realm they live in. I just took these characters for a different ride as i try to predict how'll they act. | b56046db09db4c45844a3cdee1114856 | ['95468dc17367412aa6c0282617e6a4a0'] | Stiles was irritated with his current situation. He became a prisoner of his own home thanks to the bridle hunt that was happening on the streets of New York. Thanks to Tony getting him mountain ash, he was able to seal the avengers’ tower and the turtle’s hideout. Stiles shifted on the sofa and laid his head on Raph’s muscular arm as they watched TV. Raph has become his personal body guard this month and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Why are you smiling,” Raph bites out unintentionally.
“Was I?”
“Yes”
“Heh, it’s just… I seem to attract grumps to my side.”
“Huh?!?” Raph glares at Stiles through the corner of his eye.
“Never mind, Raph-tor.”
“You’re as bad as Mikey!”
“Charmer,” he nudged the muscular turtle and gave his best flirty smile. Raph laughed as the objects around them begun to float. “Damn it, not again.”
“Come on… let’s go to your special room.” Raph got up and gave Stiles a hand.
“These magic surges are starting to get on my nerves.”
“I find them entertaining,” Raph smirks, “especially when those books chased Mikey around for almost an hour.”
Stiles erupted out laughing, “oh god, Mikey-haha… poor… poor Mikey. Although, you have to admit... he sure knows his movie references to make that situation even funnier.”
“Most of them from were the ‘Evil Dead’ movie series,” Raph said while grabbing stiles as he saw a shadow run across a wall in a distance.
“Those wolves are persistent… even though there sense of smell must be killing them.”
“They haven’t found you or our hideout yet...”
“True, but I really should place mountain ash around this area.”
“Too many creatures that’ll disturb it”
Stiles sighs, “True”.
They walk together through the deep underground city of New York as they come across a cemented wall with a red marking on it. Stiles placed his hand on the wall and a blue grid like pattern appeared. “Welcome Stiles,” a voice chimed as a part of the wall disappeared. They enter a biosphere like dwelling; the sphere like room has artificial sun light and the capability of mimicking the outside world’s weather systems. The room was split by a water trench that had been filtered into clean drinking water. The larger half of this brilliant room was a starter woods with a variety of trees and on the other side was an herb and vegetable garden. Stiles walked into the center of the room with Raph holding him. Little red concentrated as he released his magical energy into the plants and ground. The plants grew bigger and stronger as Stiles continued to release his access energy; He finally finished as he sighed in relief.
“Well, this was fun,” said Stiles relieved and calm.
“I can’t believe everything started off as a seed a few weeks ago,” Raph said amazed with the surroundings.
“Yeah… it’s almost time to bring in some animals.”
“WHAT?!?”
“Yeah, some birds and rabbits...”
“Why?”
“I’m going to have a werewolf baby and at least here,” Stiles gestures to the room, “they can run around and hunt safely, until they can control their shift.”
“You’ve planned everything.”
“I have too.” The boy smiles weakly at his stomach and gently rubs it. The young spark was going to do this alone and Derek will never know his child.
“You got me,” Raph said as he grabbed Stiles and hugged him. “You’re not alone; so don’t be afraid to lean on me.”
Teary eyed, “thanks Raph…”
“Yeah yeah, you softy”
Stiles nudged him but the big ball of mass didn’t move. “Raph…” the spark sputtered out as he felt a little dizzy. The muscular turtle picked him up before he could fall as the room darkened around him.
“Yo… thing-computer, whatever your name is!!! Call Dr. Banner and that Deaton guy!”
“My name is Monday, sir, and I am insulted to be referenced as a simple computer system. I am an advanced”
“SHUT IT!”
“Rude… and just to inform you that Mr. Tony Stark, Mr. Steve Rogers, and Dr. Bruce Banner are on their way. Also, I have a Dr. Alan Deaton on the line.”
“Patch him through, you stupid piece of”
“Dr. Deaton office, how may I help you?”
“Deaton, Stiles fainted after releasing his magic into his room.”
“Hmm… it might be that he drained off to much… but without me actually being there I can’t say for sure. Do the Avengers know any magic users?”
“I… d-don’t know,” Raph stammered out before a voice appeared behind him.
“We know of one and he is a doctor as well,” Dr. Banner said as he went to stiles side.
Deaton paused before asking, “Who?”
“Dr. Strange…” Bruce blurted out as he sighed, “His vitals are fine”
“Someone called,” smiled strange as he walked towards them with his hands shaking as he tried to move them.
“Tsk” Raph clicked his teeth as he watched a stranger walk towards him and stiles. He unconsciously hissed at the figure with the red cape.
“Heh, easy now… I’m here to help.” Dr. Strange confidently smirked at the turtle as he kept his hands raised to show he was defenseless.
“Fine,” the red bandanna masked turtle spat out and looked away.
Dr. Strange shaky hands opened the young boy’s eye lids as he gazed upon glowing white light. He backed away slowly as he spoke to Deaton. “He is… has he had visions before?”
“No… but he can distinguish threats and enemies easily.” Deaton knew where this was going, but he couldn’t help himself from being vague.
“His species is rare… a supernatural being that maintains the balance of good and evil, but not only that; also, maintains the balance of human and supernatural. He is a guardian
of true balance.”
“Yes… but it is best to keep it a secret.” |
a0bc8ff4498a406395bcacdcea2308ee | ['954a666cc50b4a6d81473e6cf913c8a0'] | She had hoped he would penetrate her immediately, eager to feel his hardness inside her after a long day, but he had wasn’t going to let her have it easy. He dropped down and began kissing around her vulva, thumb teasing gently over her lips until he finally pushed a pair of fingers in. Suki rolled her hips slightly, begging him silently for more. He took the hint and pumped her as his kisses reached her clit, tongue dabbing on it while he cured his fingers inside of her in search of her most sensitive spot. Suki squirmed and moaned. It felt good but this time it wasn’t enough. She didn’t know what was coming over her but she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this horny.
He sucked lightly on her clit and finally pushed her over the edge. Shutting her powerful thighs firmly over his head she turned both of them over so she was sitting on his face, grinding down onto his mouth. Sokka was shocked but adapted quickly, kissing deeply into her, the smell of her sex and her sweat intoxicating him. Above them the clouds had grown dark and a clap of thunder split the air as Suki grabbed his hair and bucked feverishly against his mouth. As the rain started to fall her whole body shook, her cry drowned out by thunder as Sokka lapped at her juices. She turned over onto the grass next to him, kissing him and tasting herself on his lips.
“Hot damn Suki” Sokka chuckled breathlessly. “You got a lot of energy today.”
She reached down and squeezed seductively at his thick shaft. He was as hard as rock and she wanted it terribly. “I like it out here. We’re just so totally free. We don’t even have to be ourselves.” She got up and walked in front of him, the rain coursing down her back and over her firm butt. She wiggled cheekily to him.
Sokka nodded and walked up behind her, gripping her tight, his whole body rubbing against hers. “Lets make the most of it while we can then.” He pushed her down onto her hands and knees and drove hard into her dripping cunt.
It was exactly what Suki was longing for. For a few minutes he dominated her utterly, pulling her hair, fingers digging into her shoulder as he slammed his hips good and hard against hers. For a movement the rain came down ever harder and Suki cried freely, shouting Sokka’s name over and over as if in praise. Her arms gave way and let herself fall, face down in the wet grass while her hips shook. He responded, grabbing roughly and sitting back so she could ride him, still thrusting hard into her while she rolled against him. Now with each stroke she could adjust the angle until he was hitting right on the sweetest spot and her back arched. She came suddenly and unexpectedly, a gushing stream pouring out of her. At the same time Sokka finally grunted his last and slipped out, his cum mixing with hers over their thighs and running off into the grass.
Both crawled a few feet away under one of the trees, even as the rain ran out and the clouds parted. They bathed together in the last rays of orange sunlight, revelling in the outdoors as the birds in the trees starting braking into song. The air whistled over the water and through the trees and it had never smelled so sweet.
7. Well Earned Fun
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> It's the biggest festival in Republic City's history to date and everyone's out to have fun - so where is it's most senior councilmen and it's second most senior police officer? Written for Sukka Smut Week Day 7 (Silly).
It was a clear night in a city just learning to walk, it’s youth and energy pouring onto the streets for the first great event in it’s life. The cops wore garlands amongst a population of spirits disguised in masks and cloaks. The roads swelled with manifestations of strange and dark creatures, dragons and face stealers dancing and snapping at the heads of shrieking giggling children. All over the skyline fireworks burst spontaneously, streamers and lanterns strewn all over great unfinished buildings.
Suki leaned on the ally corner and watched it all go by, observing the security she helped train slipping easily through the crowds on the lookout for any disturbance. Somewhere back at HQ Chief Toph was screaming blue murder and stamping her authority on anyone nearby. From the procession a spectre loomed – Wan Shi Tong, the towering owl-like creature and guardian of the long lost Spirit Library.
“Why hello Officer Suki” the spirit crooned, flowing around her with it’s lithe body. “I know ten-thousand things and I know you should be out celebrating tonight, not standing around in uniform!”
Suki had to bite on her tounge to not burst out laughing. “What can I say,” she shrugged. “I thought I should anyway.”
The spirit wrapped itself around her, soft wings tickling her right where a reaction was guaranteed. “You’ve been working hard, I know because I am the most knowledgeable spirit in all creation.” Suki laughed as quietly as she could but it felt like her sides would split. “Isn’t it about time for some fun?”
Suki thought for a second and reached for her equipment belt. “Oh, all right then great spirit.” She grabbed one of it’s “wings” and a cuff appeared on it’s wrist, the other firmly attached to hers by a tight chain. “You’re right. You would know wouldn’t you.” Wan Shi Tong barely had time to realise what was happening when she dragged him roughly away down the ally. | a036b00b17cf487f89e0ee538bb6697d | ['954a666cc50b4a6d81473e6cf913c8a0'] | "Yeah, it's like I said:" shrugged Jack walking steadily over to Grunt, his shotgun left forgotten on the table. "Frigid. So that just leaves me." She stopped in front of the Krogan and with one swift movement snapped the strap from chest, revealing her pert nipples. "How about it toad head, you want to show me what makes you "genetically superior?" Wrex chuckled and leaned against the wall. No matter what happened next this was likely to prove quite a show.
"Are you kidding?" Grunt snorted though couldn't completely ignore the pressure building inside his armour. "I would split you in half like soft lumber."
"Oh come on." She ran her small but strong hands playfully over his bulky chest plate. "I've been around on the extranet. I know what it takes. Besides, your quads must be fit to burst, so many weeks out here, no privacy, no chance for relief." She patted his crotch plate and smiled at him. "I wanna be a good girl for once - help the team out."
"Pah." Grunt pushed her away. "It would take a whole legion of lesser creatures like you to take even half of what I've got in one of my quads."
"A legion?" Shepard smiled at them as she finally stepped from the shadows, feeling ready to burst straight out of her overalls. "How about just one superior female?"
3. Chapter 3
As Shepard emerged Grunt and Jack stood agape. Wrex chuckled audibly and clapped Shepard into the dim light of the cargo bay. "Superior."
"Battlemaster." Grunt bowed his head as she approached. "I meant no disrespect."
Shepard nodded in reply, running her hand affectionately over his proud crest and turned to Jack. "Frigid?"
"Yeah, I said it. What you..." Jack froze and tensed up instinctively as Shepard ran her hand over Jack's firm breasts and grabbed her by her throat. Jack's surprised yelp was quickly stifled as Shepard lunged and kissed her roughly, her tongue invading her open maw and arresting itself over hers. "Frigid?" She asked again as she released Jack and pushed her roughly back against the wall. Jack was almost speechless, still gasping for air. "I heard every word of course. Superior female?" She started to pull her overalls off her shoulders. All watched, tracing the outlines of her muscles and the lines of thick scars, some that traced all the way down the length of her rippling pale body. She shook the last of her overalls away and padded over to Grunt and her hand firmly over the top of his youthful crest. "I am superior. I've had to be. But for tonight..." she reached round to his back plate and found a latch. Grunt exhaled deeply as his armour hissed, disconnected and fell away freeing his enormous arousal from it's cage. "... for tonight I am female. Understand?" She shot a look over to Wrex.
"Fascinating." He reached underneath around his own armour and pulled, letting it clatter to the floor revealing his own bulging erection, bumps and undulating ridges swelling proudly along it's length. "In the old times it was not uncommon for Battlemasters to take their warriors in such a way. To break their females under the whims of their strongest champions." He moved behind Shepard and snuffed at her hair, his hot krogan breath on her back causing her heart to pound in her throat.
"I am Battlemaster." She reached behind her and grabbed him, testing the texture his hot girth with her fingers. "And you will not break me." She knelt between the Krogan and started to tease Wrex with her lips and tongue, running her mouth firmly around the thick tip while massaging Grunt's in her other hand. Both purred deeply and sonorously, their eyes going distant as the fog of ancient lust clouded their minds. In the corner of the room Jack tore at her pants, transfixed by the sight, the sounds, the hot musky scent of sex and genitalia overwhelming her as she rubbed and fingered herself furiously. Suddenly she came back to her sense, remembering a little secret she had stashed in her quarters for just such an occasion, and rushed out of the hold.
His lust now completely in control, inhibitions completely eroded, Grunt plucked Shepard from the floor and hurled her onto the weapons table, parts and ammunition scattering across the floor. Shepard shrieked in delighted surprise, feeling the power of the warrior grasping her hard and lifting her with such ease. Grunt's heavy hand held her head as he pressed his hard cock against her lips and she complied enthusiastically, grunting with the pleasure of the effort as she worked at it with her mouth and hands. The feeling of something wet and heavy ran up and down her crotch and her whole body shuddered. Wrex ran his rough tongue over her pulsating pussy as she tried to lift her hips up to present it to him, gyrating against the damp bumpy texture each time it passed over her vulva and clit which felt fit to explode with even the slightest touch.
"Alright alright, save some for me toadheads!" Jack pushed her way back into the scene. She was completely naked, revealing her complex of arcane tattoos that coloured every inch of her body, except for her crotch where from a thick black phallus protruded, a full ten inches and almost as thick as the Krogans strapped and bound tightly to her with strong leather. "A little something I picked up on the extranet. I've been waiting for a good time to try it out." She hopped onto the table and straddled the Commander. Before she had a chance to act Shepard clenched her in a vice like grip between her thigh and both flipped over, completely turning the tables. The krogan laughed as Shepard grabbed Jack's breasts roughly in both hands and started to knead them. |
27a192e9744d447598f3eb365723ef57 | ['9553faa5bd0f4aab8aa410459a841409'] | “okay?” hoseok really doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal to yoongi. if anyone should be freaking out, he’s pretty sure it should be _him_.
“i bet namjoon knows,” yoongi continues, “but he won’t tell me anything, that prick.”
“ah,” finally, the puzzle pieces start to connect, “namjoon hasn’t booty called you yet, has he?”
“honestly! you’d think that after-” he pauses, looking at taehyung staring at him innocently with his mouth half-open in curiosity, “after we worked so hard on our project for school, he’d have the decency to at least text me!”
“yeah, i bet it was downright _exhausting_ ,” hoseok snorts.
“it’s not funny, hoseok,” yoongi actually dares to sound hurt, immediately making hoseok feel bad for his comment. he’s halfway to forming a sincere apology when he notices the small glint in the corner of yoongi’s iris as he steals taehyung’s hot dog while the boy’s distracted, “i worked really hard for that project too and namjoon kept being anal about it-”
“well, would you look at that,” hoseok interrupts him before yoongi scars both him and taehyung’s untouched innocence, standing up with fingers wrapped firmly around his tray just as the bell rings, “we’ll be late for class!”
“i have a free period!” taehyung pipes in usefully while hoseok ushers him out of the cafeteria, a cackling yoongi following at their heels.
during math, hoseok gets hit by a rectangular slip of paper in his ear. it’s almost relieving, since it comes from donghyuk’s direction on his right; maybe yoongi’s been worrying for nothing, and things will slowly go back to normal, whatever adventures he and donghyuk had shared now forgotten. but when he looks down and examines the paper more closely, he realizes it’s a note.
_boy’s bathroom after class_
there’s no signature or anything to in any way confirm it _is_ indeed donghyuk’s note, but hoseok realizes, with a hollow feelings in his chest, that he can recognize his handwriting by now. when he turns around to look at him, donghyuk’s staring at the teacher in the front, not really paying attention and fidgeting with his pencil a little too much for it to be casual. hoseok almost indulges the benefit of the doubt that it’s all in his head but there’s a nagging voice at the back of his head telling him that this day will not end good at all.
class ends all too quickly for his liking. even the boring subjects such as chemistry overwhelm him with so much work that when the last bell rings, hoseok nearly jumps out of his skin at the surprise.
“already done,” he muses to himself, yoongi giving him a curious look.
“yeah, do you wanna meet up after school?”
_yes_ , is what hoseok desperately wants to say. “no, i’m busy today,” is what leaves his mouth. yoongi appears disappointed but he’s never been the type to pry into hoseok’s business too much, so with a shrug of his shoulders he picks up his bag and struts towards the door, waving at hoseok in the process.
hoseok waves back but it’s half-hearted. his stomach has dropped to his heels and it’s getting more difficult to even talk himself into getting up from his chair as time goes by. he stays unmoving, acting like he’s organizing his books, until it’s only him and their old chemistry teacher coughing in the background to subtly tell him to _hurry the fuck up_ , while also making hoseok blush furiously at the growing awkwardness.
the boy’s bathroom is located at the end of the hallway and it’s fairly close to the exit. he’s already planned out an escape route if donghyuk suddenly decides he’s over whatever’s been bothering him and goes back to his old ways. the more he thinks about it, the more hoseok’s sure it’s how their little encounter will go.
but hoseok should’ve learned to expect the unexpected by now.
when he (carefully, slowly) opens the bathroom door, he sees donghyuk crying.
it’s not full-on crying, mostly sniffling and dabbing a used tissue on the wet skin of his cheekbones, but donghyuk’s definitely been there for a while. thinking back on it, hoseok’s tried so hard to pretend donghyuk doesn’t exist in the classroom that he hasn’t noticed him leaving before the bell rang. this is the second time he’s seeing donghyuk cry and just like the last one, it grooms an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
_you don’t feel sorry for him_ , he repeats to himself, _shin donghyuk is a bad, bad person._ it’s surreal to see their roles reversed now, in a way. donghyuk’s seen hoseok cry too many times to count. he’s been the reason of those tears all of those times.
he stays quiet until the door clicks itself shut behind him and startles donghyuk from his thoughts. he’s mostly gathered himself now, apart from the redness in his eyes, but when he clears his throat to speak it’s almost like nothing’s happened at all, “you’re here.”
“yes,” hoseok says. he feels kind of dumb for confirming the obvious when he probably wasn’t even required to but he just wants to say… something, anything, to break the silence.
“sorry about that,” donghyuk continues, throwing the used tissue into the full trashcan. it bounces from the other damp paper in it and lands ungracefully on the floor and hoseok would much rather watch it twitch than stare at donghyuk’s sneakers when he approaches him and becomes impossible to ignore, “just pretend you didn’t see anything.”
“you got it,” hoseok drawls, “is, uh, t-there a point of me being here?” | ac52513b165a47f68b6b30988335b412 | ['9553faa5bd0f4aab8aa410459a841409'] |
i'm just your early morning company (if you get me)
**Author's Note:**
> **prompt:** "Jungkook rejecting Jimin (as always lol) but when no one sees he's watching Jimin focus videos and that one day get caught by Jimin fluff and smut please if possible ^o^" and well who am i not to deliver
nobody knows what jeongguk does when he’s closed his bedroom door shut late at night.
in retrospect, it’s not like anybody cares. at some point all seven of them get too tired of constantly being in each other’s presence, and cut off all communication between themselves. everyone has their own thing they do during those times; it’s become a routine as of recent, with namjoon finding recluse in the studio, hoseok relieving stress by dancing in the practice room, yoongi sleeping in his own bedroom and seokjin usually cooking dinner. even the normally inseparable best friends, jimin and taehyung, needed a time-out in these circumstances. jimin’s position in the living room has been claimed since forever and taehyung would opt to taking walks instead and crash into bed immediately upon his return.
in times like these, jeongguk was much like yoongi, except the youngest wouldn’t sleep.
he supposes he should feel at least a little bit ashamed at his actions, and he is, sort of, but the thought is quickly erased as his fingers eagerly type in jimin’s name in the youtube search bar. he looked particularly good today, jeongguk reminisces, the tight black pants hugging his shapely thighs perfectly. thanking their fans for their wonderful camera skills, he clicks on the video with the most views and sits back, pulling his pants down in one swift movement.
jeongguk and jimin are known for their love-hate romance among the fans, and jeongguk is fully aware of it. speaking from his heart, he _has_ found jimin a bit annoying in his advances before. he isn’t sure when that changed, however; at some point jimin’s voice stopped being irritating and became arousing instead. at some point seeing him pout after jeongguk would reject him didn’t fill him up with glee, but with an overwhelming desire to lean forward and kiss his full lips until he could feel jimin smiling against his mouth.
and that’s the main reason jeongguk should feel shame. the hypocrisy of his actions would make any boy with morals feel as if they’re doing something bad, but jimin doesn’t have the will to. nobody has to know, in the end. they all think he’s watching dance videos, or porn - which, in some ways, is true - and he’s fine with that. in fact, jeongguk’s made _sure_ they think of that, and nothing more when he says he’s going into his room, laptop nestled safely under his armpit.
he watches with careful eyes as jimin’s full body comes into view on camera. he’s got his “stage” persona on in full mode, eyes dark and alluring. he’s got a certain strut in his steps, shining with confidence. jeongguk knows most of it is fake, having lived with him for several years now, but he also knows that it’s just how jimin is. hiding his insecurities by pretending he’s comfortable in his body is what he does best, considering he managed to trick himself into thinking so eventually.
jeongguk would rather be caught dead than admit to ever even thinking about this, but he is proud of jimin and how far he’s come. especially while watching him bend his body in unimaginable ways, watching the control he has over his movements and the practiced expertise in which he executes their dance routine. people often point out hoseok or jeongguk himself as the best dancer in bangtan, but jeongguk is sure that title goes solely to jimin. when he dances, it’s like breathing, natural and enticing.
jeongguk could stare at jimin in a trance like this forever, except his dick is already straining against his underwear, demanding attention. he has all the time in the world, so he doesn’t rush, stroking himself with his right hand slowly to bring himself to full hardness. he’s anxious to even blink, too scared that he’ll miss some small thing jimin’s done, like make eye contact with the camera or bite down on his lower lip. jeongguk likes to imagine his teeth sinking into the flesh instead of jimin’s, pulling and releasing only when it bruises.
he chooses a _no more dream_ fancam on purpose, just to see a glimpse of jimin’s abs. seeing them on camera and in real life are two completely different experiences. he wishes he could reach forward and actually touch jimin’s skin instead of his laptop screen. what’s the use of seeing them in 3D if he can’t even touch them? it’s so unfair. jeongguk finally understood how their fans feel.
jeongguk doesn’t hear the door creaking open, or himself whispering a shaky “hyung,” just as the intruder enters the dark room. his hand is still wrapped around his cock, stroking at a firmer pace, just a tad bit faster for pleasure, but not enough to make his toes curl and stomach churn.
maybe he should’ve locked the door.
maybe he shouldn’t’ve looked up, too.
it seems that it’s just pure luck that his gaze trailed off from jimin’s pixelated eyes upwards, towards the door where a sudden source of light irritated his peripheral vision and jimin’s _real_ eyes. the expression on his face would’ve been priceless, had jeongguk not been caught quite literally with his hands down his pants.
he makes an unintelligible noise and throws the laptop off his lap, on the mattress where it lands with a heavy thud. the video is still playing and, from this position, jimin can clearly see himself on the screen just as the song nears its end. jeongguk lets out a quiet whimper and an even quieter “hyung,” and that seems to be what shakes jimin back into the present. |
150a4216a4ec472db160f018e600896c | ['9564089ca1694f3d9d577220e6457dd6'] | Dipper can barely listen to her as an icy fear creeps up his spine.
Something is definitely watching him.
…
The short months of their summer vacation seem to fly by, with Dipper growing more and more uneasy as the days pass.
Mabel takes note of the change in her brother, before finally cornering him one afternoon.
He’s sat on his bed in their shared room, leg hanging over the edge and bouncing nervously as he chews on the end of his pen. His journal is open in front of him, but his focus is locked on the window.
She slams the door shut, placing her hands on her hips. “Okay, that’s it, bro, you’ve been acting weird all summer, and you’re going to tell me why.”
It takes Dipper a moment to look at her, and when he does his eyebrows are knit in confusion and worry. He opens his mouth, then closes it.
Mabel’s face softens, and she climbs onto his bed, resting her elbows on her knees as she tilts her head. “Dipper, what’s up?”
His eyes seem to clear as he shakes his head. “I’m not sure.” He chews on his lip nervously. “Mabel, have you...have you felt like someone’s been watching us since we got here?”
His twin stiffens, then covers it with a laugh.”Dip-dop are you okay?”
Dipper leans forward, shoving his journal to the side. “No, Mabel, I’m serious. I can’t help but feel like we’re being watched.”
Mabel frowns, worried. “Dipper...that sounds like.” She cuts off. “Dipper, Bill is gone, you’re just being paranoid.”
Dipper’s shoulders drop as he turns his gaze back to the window, tracing the shape with his eyes. His voice is soft when he responds. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He turns to Mabel, smiling as he nods. “You’re right. He’s gone, I’m just being weird.”
She snorts, punching him in the arm as she jumps off his bed. “That’s your thing, bro. Try to ease up, okay?”
She leaves their room with a threat to douse him in glitter if he keeps up the moping, and he shoos her out with a laugh. He gets up to follow her out, ignoring the stare he feels burning into his back.
“Bill is gone.” Dipper mumbles to himself as he shuts the door.
...
“Dude, you have to promise to call me, like, once a week, deal?”
Dipper chuckles at Wendy, the familiar warmth in his chest more platonic than last summer. “Sure thing. Only if you promise to keep Grunkle Stan in line.”
Stan, standing to the side, wiping away his ‘allergies’, scoffs. “Why just me, kid? I’d say my idiot brother is a much bigger mess.”
Dipper raises and eyebrow. “Grunkle Stan, you convinced a customer to pay $20 dollars for a pen you claimed was cursed, punched someone’s dog, and set the kitchen on fire all in one day.”
Stan crosses his arms, grumbling something about doing ‘good business’, and that the dog was ’asking for it’.
Wendy rolls her eyes, smiling. “I’ll do what I can, dude. College is going to make it hard to keep him in line.”
The group, family and friends alike, dissolve into laughter, exchanging hugs and tears until the bus pulls up on the dirt road.
The twins climb aboard, waving to everyone until the bus takes a turn that makes them impossible to see.
Dipper slides down in the seat, smile slipping from his face.
It's as if someone is watching him all the way through town, and it's not until they pass the 'Now Leaving Gravity Falls sign that the pressure lets up and he can breath.
2. II.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The Pines twins, now sixteen, return to the Shack for another summer filled with adventure, but Dipper is about to get more than he bargained for when his least favourite dream demon pays him a visit.
To say that the summer months continued as normal wouldn’t be entirely true or entirely false, seeing as nothing in Gravity Falls could ever be normal, but things were weird, even to Dipper’s standards.
The first summer after Weirdmageddon was when the feeling of being watched started, and persisted every summer after.
The following summer is when the antics started, like Casper the friendly ghost developed a pranking streak. Dipper’s clothes often went missing, only to be found in the oddest places. His nightshirt was found balled up in the coffee pot, his boxers hung on the Mystery Shack sign, his socks artistically placed on the antlers of the Six-Pack O’ Lope. Dipper had assumed at first that Mabel had been behind the harmless pranks, but there was never any glitter at the scene of the crime, so he ruled her out fairly quickly.
On the summer of the twins being fifteen, and increasingly alarmed, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. The eerie silence put Dipper on edge more than the constant presence, and the idea that he was going crazy started to seep in even further.
Dipper spent the entire school year leading up to their next visit doing research. He was constantly on his laptop, surrounded by books on demons, ghosts, and entities. He got so little sleep that he installed a coffee maker in his room so he could get as many waking hours out of the day as possible. Mabel could hardly ever drag him out of the house to do anything, and even her nagging couldn’t get through to him.
He usually brushed her off with the promise that whatever was plaguing them in Gravity Falls wouldn’t continue this summer.
So when they finally crossed into the Gravity Falls territory and Dipper’s features relaxed into something more peaceful, if determined, Mabel felt relief and anxiety at the same time.
… | 4e7ef14590de4fa5a3f0a4729f652938 | ['9564089ca1694f3d9d577220e6457dd6'] | Dipper hauls his suitcase up the stairs, mind racing with all the possibilities. Now that he’s actually in Gravity Falls, he can really test his research properly. He’s almost ninety percent sure that he’s dealing with a malevolent spirit. One who’s pretty pissed at him.
All that flies out the window when he enters the room, because there on his mattress is a small pile of something he’s seen once before. Flat, with slight points, an off white colour that glints in the sun filtering into the room. Deer teeth.
Dipper walks up to the bed, hands shaking as he picks up the note alongside the horrid gift.
_Welcome back, kid. _
Dipper hardly notices the paper fluttering to the ground as his mind spirals. Ghosts he was prepared for, had expected. He hadn’t wanted to deal with demons, but he could have handled himself. Having to face the fact that his initial fears were indeed true set him on edge.
How was Bill back? They had destroyed him four years ago.
Dipper balls his hands into fist, refusing to let them betray how much the realisation scared him. He sweeps the teeth into his hand, yanks open the drawer to the side table, and dumps them inside with a shudder. He slams the drawer shut with more force than is necessary, and begins to riffle through his bag.
When his fingers graze over the familiar cover, he pulls it out swiftly. He flips through his personal journal until he lands on the pages about Bill. He flips through each one, back and forth until his head starts to spin.
He slumps to the floor, back against his bed as he tilts his head back.
“Damn you, Bill.”
Dipper drops the journal onto the floor, pages exposed. Each one is blank. Every word has been cleared from the paper, every incantation, demon trap, and weapon against Bill has been effectively erased from the book.
Dipper can feel it now, like an itch on the back of his neck. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, having not felt it for over a year. The presence that hangs in the air is smug, and boy does it piss him off.
It’s the whisper of air, like fingers, that sets him off, as it runs through the curls of his hair.
Dipper bolts up, hand flying to his hair. “You isosceles nightmare! Stay away from me and my family.”
Dipper doesn’t get a reply, but the presence doesn’t shift at all. He whirls around, leaving the attic with a growl.
He returns to the ground floor to see his Grunkles and Mabel, laughing and catching up. His shoulders slump as he sighs. He can’t let Bill hurt them again, and bringing up that the dream demon may have returned would just set them all on edge. He can handle Bill on his own.
Mabel turns, beaming when she spots him sulking at the foot of the stairs. “Hey bro-bro! Quit being such a frowny face, it’s summer! Ready for some mystery?”
She waggles her eyebrows as she giggles, and Dipper shoots her a tired smile. He’s definitely not ready for the amount of mystery that’s bound to happen this summer.
…
The edges of the forest expand around him in a blanket of lush green, lit by the glow of the stars and the tiny blue fairies flying around Dipper.
The trees form a heavy canopy above his head, and moonlight spills through in the clearing before him. Dipper pads across the soft moss floor, enamoured by the rosy hued mushrooms dotting the roots of the giant trees and the water bubbling in a brook to his left.
He sighs, relaxing as he slips into the silver of the moon, as thick in the night as a blanket.
He kneels down on the plush ground, content to sit back and observe his surroundings. His peace is short lived when he spots it, sitting at the edge of the clearing, wrapped in vegetation and mocking him.
The stone statue is the last thing Dipper had wanted to see, and when the edges of his vision grows fuzzy, his heartbeat picks up, drumming against his rib cage.
The world snaps then, with a noise akin to a rubber band reaching its breaking point, and everything is set in grey-scale.
Dipper begins cursing immediately, scrambling off the ground. The statue of Bill now has a very familiar shape leaning against it, if a bit paler and smaller than Dipper remembers.
“Yeesh, kid, who taught you that sort of language? Ha! Who am I kidding? With your Grunkle?”
Dipper can’t even respond. He can’t tell if this fire burning through his veins is anger or fear. Maybe both.
“Why are you alive?”
Bill narrows his eye, “Nice to see you too, Pine Tree.”
Dipper closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “How are you alive?”
Bill rolls his eye, swinging his cane around as he floats closer. “And here I thought you were smart, kid. Remember when I told you I was a being of pure energy with no weaknesses?”
Dipper glares at the demon, unamused. “Everyone has weaknesses, even you.”
Bill tilts to the side, which Dipper assumes is the equivalent of Bill tilting his head.
“You’re focusing on the wrong part, kid.”
Dipper’s brows knit together as his brain kicks into overdrive. Bill said he was a being of pure energy, but what could that-
Dipper’s thoughts grind to a halt as it clicks into place, and Bill seems to realise the moment he understands, because he laughs so hard that his golden surface glows.
“There you go, kid! Come on, give me the rundown, I wanna know what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Dipper grits his teeth and curses under his breath. “Energy can never be created or destroyed, only transferred or changed into a different form.” |
dc074db3e6864101a6383154a4e02a6d | ['958e9045ba434c038119a26ffa50821d'] | He tugs her down with one hand, desperate for another one of these kisses and when she moves to pull back he shoves her panties aside and twists his thumb _right there_ and she shatters on top of him, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood before going limp.
He withdraws his hands slowly, causing her to twitch a bit and he can’t resist licking his fingers because he’s got like, the boner of the century in his pants and she doesn’t look like she’s going to do anything about it. Guy’s got to get his kicks somewhere.
She watches him, heavy lidded, from where she’s resting her head on his shoulder and he exaggerates every swipe of his tongue, just for her. She bites her lip and then sits up, keeping herself steady with her palms against his chest, totally twisting his nipple ring without noticing. Sh-it.
“See?” she demands, still sounding, like, well, sex. “Not broken.”
That’s when he realizes she just let him get to second (third?) base for the sole reason of proving he doesn’t ruin everything he touches first. Meaning this was her first. Meaning. Aw, fuck.
“You’re screwed in the head, Berry. Seriously.”
The really messed up thing though? He knows she was saving that up for someone special, someone who matters. She told him so. And here she is, giving it up for Lima Loser #1 and his fucking ego.
He ruins everything he touches. (Exhibit two: Rachel Berry.)
She nods, earnest and solemn and he has no idea what to say. (Puckerman’s speechless. Quick, alert the newspapers.)
“What?” Finn’s voice comes from the doorway, half-choked. Puck knows, just from the sound of his voice, that his eyes are glazed and he’s totally turned on. How long has he been fucking standing there? He clears his throat. “What are you two… doing?”
“Proving a point,” Rachel informs him, sounding prim again. “Lock the door, please, Finn. Too many people walk into this room.”
He obediently turns the lock and then looks at her for approval and new orders like a puppy. (And he’s supposed to be the leader. No wonder they never get any-fucking- where.) But Rachel simply slips off Puck’s lap and curls into his side without another word, falling asleep.
(Pretending to, but don’t tell.)
.
.
Finn lies on Puck’s other side, eyes wide and glazed and horny as anything. For a minute or ten they just listen to Rachel’s quiet breathing, staring at the ceiling. It some kind of dark wood and it looks expensive and Puck thinks that Santana’s parents own entirely too much shit. (The hell did she dump him for his credit score when she’s swimming in dough? Bitch.)
Then Puck asks. “Stood there long?”
His boy shifts uncomfortably (They are teenaged boys. Those boners aren’t going to just, like, go away.) and then nods. “A while. Did you…?”
A shrug. “Yeah. Whatever, man.”
More silence. Rachel lies against his side like a warm rock, solid. (In more than one sense.)
“You wanna?”
“Fuck, yes?”
They turn towards each other simultaneously, hands going for belt buckles, buttons and zippers as Finn reels Puck in by the back of his ‘hawk and kisses him. (Big fucking girl.) They both pretend that they can’t taste remnants of strawberry lipgloss on each other and then Puck has Finn’s jeans pushed down enough to get a hold and Frankenteen totally moans.
Puck withdraws his fingers and glares.
“Wha’?” And then Finn’s stupid brain kicks in and he remembers that their girl is lying, like, half a foot away, totally within touching distance. Which is hot as all get out, but not very conductive to sexing your boy in a totally non-gay way. Plainly: If Finn plans to get off tonight, he’s better keep his trap shut or put it to good use. Quietly.
He nods and bites his lip in this totally adorable way that makes Puck want to give him, like, dog biscuits and squeaky toys. Behind them, Rachel giggles and they both freeze, hands in each others’ pants.
They are so busted.
She sits up and all either of them sees is her face above them. Finn makes a strangled noise and tries to move away, but Puck reflexively holds him tighter and the noise gets louder, until he sounds like hurt cat.
“Faking it, Rach?” Puck asks, as casually as can be with someone else’s hands on your junk.
“I was exhausted,” she defends and he can see that she has trouble keeping her eyes front and center.
“Sure you were, babe.” He grins wickedly because he’s the one who exhausted her.
Finn makes that noise again and pulls away slightly. “Guys…”
But Rachel’s biting her lips in that way that means she’s thinking even though she’s trying really hard not to and they’re both conditioned to hold still and wait until the expression passes, lest her crazy spread to them. Finn looks like he’s convinced she’s going to start screaming any moment now, but Puck isn’t so sure.
This Rachel, the Summer Rachel, post Quinn and Baby Rachel, Beer and Kisses Rachel, she’s not the girl they both love a little bit and hate in almost equal parts during the school year. She’s something else entirely and they’re not sure if that’s because of the season, what happened, or them.
(When they’re alone in their rooms they can both admit that they hope it wasn’t them because she deserves better than that. But they’re pretty sure no-one’s listening to that particular wish.)
This Rachel suddenly leans across Puck’s chest and puts a hand low on Finn’s belly, making the muscles there quiver like a horse’s. “I want,” she starts, pupils blown, hair tousled.
They’re all just drunk enough to do this. To really, actually, do this thing they’ve been building up to and dreading all summer. | 1e89385704e94dceb0b33cb908cf3989 | ['958e9045ba434c038119a26ffa50821d'] | Former, she corrects mentally. She takes the lack of pain in that to mean that she really never was much of a cop. God, Rome is going to laugh at her for _days_.
Jesse just keeps blinking and eventually tells her, “Dom’s down the hall visiting Vince. I come in with him.”
Huh. Now _that_ she has no idea what to make of.
+
Vince comes visiting at the end of week two. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt and walking like he’s afraid to fall over. Apparently, gutshot-and-almost-armless gets to go home earlier than gutshot-and-almost-collapsed-lung. So not fair.
He sinks into Jesse’s chair like he’s run a marathon and says, “I hear I have you to thank for being alive.”
She shrugs and keeps her mouth shut.
“I also hear you lost your job saving our dumb asses. And you saved Jesse.”
This time, she turns her head away. There’s a long silence and when Vince stands, he sounds like a rising titan. She expects him to walk away. Instead he bends over her bed. “Thanks,” he whispers. “You’re okay, Buster.”
The last thing she ever expects Vince to do is kiss her temple, but he does. She closes her eyes and pretends to have spontaneously fallen asleep, a sort of reverse Sleeping Beauty thing. He lets her have the illusion and walks out. If he notices she’s crying, he doesn’t say.
Maybe she hasn’t lost everything. Maybe this time, things will be alright. She calls the feeling in her gut hope and thinks that maybe, she’s more tired of lonely roads than she knew.
+
Her plan for the day she gets out of the hospital is to get a taxi, climb the two flights of stairs to her apartment, hope that she doesn’t die on the way up, and then collapse into bed and not move ever again.
There is a slight hitch, in the form of Dom, waiting when a hot male nurse pushes her through the front entrance in a wheelchair she’d really kind of like to steal. He glowers at the nurse and rumbles that he’ll take it from here.
For a moment, Brian is kind of scared they’ll find her body in a ditch somewhere. But then she remembers that Dom was the one that drove Jesse up here to visit her every day for the past two weeks, and relaxes. He won’t kill her. Probably.
Which still leaves a dozen other things she can think off that he could do to her, all of them probably much worse than killing her.
But all he does is load her into the passenger seat of his car and slam the door behind her. The nurse waves goodbye. She smiles back, sort of weakly. “You taking me home?” she asks, tentatively, when Dom gets in behind the wheel.
He nods. “Where?”
She has to actually think about the directions, given that she hasn’t been there for the better part of three months. He nods to accept what she tells him and then silence falls. And falls. And falls. Until she feels like it’s blanketing her, suffocating her.
Only when she feels ready to squirm does Dom finally speak. “So,” he starts and she stills instantly, awaiting his verdict like a loyal subject. “Remember when I said Jesse can find anything about anyone on the web?”
She nods.
“Brianna Marilyn O’Conner. There’s a whole lot about you on the web.”
Brian looks out the window like LA rush hour traffic is the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. Lucky for her, Dom needs no encouragement. He just keeps talking.
“Turns out you really have a middle name like a porn star. Turns out you really are a desert rat, only Barstow instead of Arizona. Turns out your best friend really is doing time, and your mother really did die when you were twenty. Even the juvie record is real.”
He looks at her and she can see him smirk out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a really shitty undercover cop, aren’t you, Bri?”
It’s the nickname that almost does her in. She laughs, choked and short. It hurts like hell, still, but she thinks this might be Dom telling her she’s forgiven, and she just can’t stop.
He lets her laugh and half-cry until they get to her apartment complex and then he helps her up the stairs, his arm around her waist with nothing more than a soft, “C’mere.”
She unlocks the door and watches Dom take in her humble abode. It’s a single bedroom flat, dusty and mostly empty. Her clothes are still at Harry’s, she guesses. Her uniform and other police stuff is at the precinct, where it’ll stay forever.
There are a few books and movies strewn throughout the room, on the shelves. A bunch of letters on the kitchen table. Washed dishes in the dish rack. The cactus she forgot, dead on the windowsill. No pictures on the walls, no knickknacks beyond a quilt over the back of the sofa. Nothing to indicate who lives here.
Looking at it through Dom’s eyes, it’s pathetic. She’s been living here for five years and it looks like she moved in last week.
Dom walks past her into the bedroom, shuffles around in there. She sinks gingerly into the sloppy sofa and can’t find the energy to ask what he’s doing. Obviously, he’s not dumping her ass here and leaving.
She feels that insane feeling of hope again, and this time, she lets it, just a bit. |
5d4d920841bd44309fff4cca8681ddb3 | ['95ac57ac32c044e9b4c3a7d72861630f'] | She knows Alan is dying before Alan tells anyone. She can sense system degradation, and Alan’s been hovering upon total system failure for 4.3 months. Sam knows too, but he doesn’t fully process the thought, simply lets the argument hang in the parameters of his awareness, as if that will stave off the inevitable. That’s why Alan tells her first. She’s been in the User world for seven years, has almost completely integrated, but her source code is still _computer_. She processes information far more efficiently than Sam, won’t let her emotions lag her thinking for too long.
So she’s prepared when Alan goes into residential care, and Sam finally understands that the runtime of Alan’s life is near the end. She’s prepared for Sam’s short angry outbursts, his long cold silences, and his constant reassurances that he’s not bothered, not by anything, anything at all. Those statements are False. But she doesn’t correct him; she just waits for the inevitable.
When it happens, he shakes horribly in her embrace.
“I’ve lost them all now,” he croaks quietly into the folds of her jacket.
Her thought process had been similar, years ago in the Purge, years ago when she had lost Flynn. That statement though, is False.
“Alan has become part of the system, he is not gone,” she says.
Death is just like deresolution: reintegration with the system. User’s bodies are broken down into their basic components and become building blocks for new life in the User’s system.
“Doesn’t matter; he’ll be unrecognizable.”
“Sam,” she says, but can’t think of anything else to add, because what Sam says is True.
“He’s dead, Quorra. Dead.”
False.
“No, Alan Lives,” she gently touches the area over Sam’s heart, the central node in a User’s body, “just as Flynn Lives and Jordan Lives: in you.”
His shaking subsides a bit, perhaps out of surprise. She lays her cheek on his head and still, after all these years, attempts to make a connection. Predictably, she gets no reassuring ping back; Users connect in different ways. She breathes the smell of him in deeply, instead. Someday, Quorra and Sam will also live in legacy only. The thought does not bother her; why cringe from the inevitable? Nothing lasts for forever, suspended in a single, unchanging state; not a User, not a program, not even a perfect system.
“What are we going to tell Tron?” Sam asks, when their limbs have gone numb and the air is cold around them.
It’s a lonely thought: a program existing beyond their User.
“Tell him the Truth,” she says, “that Alan_1 has extended towards the invisible.”
Unlike programs, Users memorialize their dead. They put the decaying components into the ground, giving back to the system while also letting future Users know of who came before. Passing down a legacy. Sam doesn’t place flowers by the headstone, as is traditional. Instead, he places a packet of unpopped popcorn.
“For the next realm,” he grins tightly at her.
She slips her hand in his, feels his warmth and heartbeat, and leans forward to make a connection.
**
_“All that is visible must grow beyond itself and extend into the realm of the invisible” – Dumont_ | d1b42339f1dd4848864f47c6f5c2847d | ['95ac57ac32c044e9b4c3a7d72861630f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> The code is written in C# because that's all I know, so apologies for the anachronism (C# wasn't around until the year 2000). The code does actually run and I've posted it in chapter 2 for the curious.
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Linq;
using System.Text;
using System.Threading.Tasks;
namespace PerfectSystem
{
class Program
{
static void Main()
{
Console.Write("Greetings, Flynn. Have you created the perfect system?");
string answer = Console.ReadLine();
if (answer == "yes")
The ISOs thrill him in a way he’s never been thrilled before, and he’s driven a lightcycle (which is pretty darn thrilling). The mystery of their birth consumes him and he will stop at nothing to find the answers he seeks.
The light blinks on suddenly, and he stumbles into the wall momentarily, caught off guard.
“Kevin, it is 2am.”
He knows that short, curt tone anywhere. His mother stands on the stairs, wrapped up tight in her nightgown, and glares down at him.
“Guessing Sam’s already asleep,” Flynn grins sheepishly.
“He tried to stay up, waiting for you.”
“I’ll see him in the morning before I go.”
“You need to start coming home earlier.”
He tries to pass her on the stairs, but she won’t move to let him sidle by. He sighs and takes her by the shoulders, bussing a kiss on her cheek.
“Thanks for watching him, mom.”
“I shouldn’t be watching him at all,” she snaps, “you’re his father. You need to be here.”
“I will, I will, I promise. It’s just – something’s come up. Something big. A miracle.”
He can’t stop the smile spreading across his face, the pure amazement still catching him off guard. A new digital frontier, beckoning him.
“You have a miracle right here,” she mutters.
He’ll show Sam. One day. He tries again to pass her, but she stops him with a hand on his chest.
“Kevin, I’m worried about you. You’re never home; and when you are, you’re still not here.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he takes her hand, places a distant kiss on it, “now that I’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“Created the perfect system,” he grins. The perfect system: a system that creates itself. His new world, his future, his destiny.
He finally moves past her but she stops him with one final question.
“Are you happy?” she asks.
He stares into the dark stairwell ahead of him, a long tunnel of unknown.
“Yes,” he answers.
{
Console.Write("Are you happy?");
string answer2 = Console.ReadLine();
if (answer2 == "yes")
{
Console.Write("Exception detected. Parameter answer2 '{0}' is false. Program terminated.", answer2);
Console.ReadKey();
throw new ArgumentException("answer2"");
}
The darkness of the Outlands swallow him whole. Never again to see the glittering light of Tron City, or the strong beam of the portal, or the soft warmth of the sun. He is alone in darkness, alone in friends. The ISOs: destroyed. Tron: derezzed. Clu: traitor. Bradley: unreachable. Sam:….
His miracle is no more.
if (answer2 == "no")
{
Console.Write("Stop searching so hard");
Console.ReadKey();
}
He knows he’s in trouble when Bradley shows up. Flynn is in the loft of the arcade (because there’s a couch and his back is killing him. Everything is killing him), drawing up more plans for the Grid.
“It’s 2am, Bradley,” he sighs.
He knew he shouldn’t have given him an extra set of keys.
“It is. Shouldn’t you be home by now?”
Alan’s a tall, stern figure in the doorway and Flynn really wishes everyone – programs and Users alike - would just leave him alone. He’s almost done it. He just needs a bit more time.
“Flynn, you’re miserable.”
“Jesus, Bradley. You don’t pull any punches.”
“You’re making everyone else miserable, too.”
“Piss off then,” he gives him the middle finger.
“Should I pass that message on to Sam?”
Flynn’s papers fall to the floor and he drags an arm over his eyes. Everything suddenly seems too bright.
“Of course not, don’t be an idiot,” he mutters.
“You’re the only idiot here. Now get out of the arcade and don’t come back for another two days.”
Two. Days. Shit, that’s a long time in Grid time.
“I’ll watch over the arcade.” Alan jingles the keys meaningfully, heavily implying he’ll be stationed here to keep Flynn out.
“Is this an intervention?”
Alan walks over and peers down at him. The pinched expression of constipated worry is so much like Tron’s that he almost laughs. He doesn’t though; Alan looks one breath away from committing him to a hospital.
“Spend a weekend with your family. Sam needs it. And so do you.”
There’s a bone-deep weariness in Flynn when he thinks of the long ride home. When he thinks of moving. Or when he thinks of thinking.
“You’d be a good dad,” Flynn says suddenly.
Alan raises his eyebrows, “No thanks. Looking after you and your spawn is more than enough trouble for me.”
“You would look after him, wouldn’t you?” he latches onto the idea with a sudden fierceness.
“What? Of course I would.”
“Good,” Flynn settles back down, something in him relieved. Why? Nothing’s going to happen. The Grid is perfect. Or will be. Where are his plans? He pats the couch for them. Did he drop them?
He wishes he could think straight. He’s just so tired.
“When did you last sleep?” Alan frowns at him.
Flynn waves a hand languidly in the air.
“Get up you great lump, I’ll drive you home.”
Alan shepherds him out of the arcade, half-carrying him to Alan’s rust bucket car. As Alan is unlocking the door, he poses a soft query.
“I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it.”
“It is. It will be,” Flynn answers, though he’s not sure if he was supposed to.
Alan pushes him into the passenger seat and stares at him, head haloed by streetlamps, face dark and unrecognizable. The vision swims and Flynn’s eyes hurt. His head pounds.
“Are you happy, Flynn?”
“No,” he whispers. |
e7a270469f744574855201b1a269e3fb | ['95b6e20255e7496bad890318110aba2c'] | The words died in my throat and Apollo hung up. I was sweating uncontrollably. This man was the death of me. Why on earth did I have to fall for him exactly?
I was on my way to the agency. A playlist was running through the speakers in my car, but I did not really listen. Music had failed to bring me joy. It did not work anymore. Not since the trial. Nothing really worked since it happened. Apparently, that was how it was for now.
Surprised I noticed the moon. The sun was still up but apparently our lovely guardian of the night had decided to come out early. I felt something soothing vibrating from it and always glanced back up to it.
A piano began to play. It sounded like raindrops.
_Remember all the things we wanted_
_Now all the memories they're haunted_
_We were always meant to say goodbye_
_Even with our face held high_
_It never would have worked out right_
_We were never meant for do or die_
_I didn't want us to burn out, I_
_I didn't come here to hurt you, now I can't stop_
_I want you to know_
_It doesn't matter_
_Where we take this road_
_But someone's gotta go_
_And I want you to know_
_You couldn't have loved me better_
_But I want you to move on_
_So I'm already gone_
_Looking at you makes it harder_
_But I know that you'll find another_
_Doesn't always make you want to cry_
_It started with the perfect kiss then_
_We could feel the poison set in_
_Perfect couldn't keep this love alive_
_Know that I love you so_
_I love you enough to let you go_
… Already Gone, the cover by Sleeping At Last. I had heard it as a teen once or twice, but it had never quite touched me like this…
I was probably just overly emotional. Usually neither the moon nor a sad break up song cover would make me this sentimental. But usually I also did not have a “date” with Apollo Justice, so I kind of knew why I felt like this.
Finally, I saw the Agency and in front of it the lawyer in a red hoodie. I pulled over and he entered immediately. He said “hi” hastily and shot me a tired smile.
Quickly I returned the smile and drove off. I had turned down the music and now heard the man breathing regularly. He looked out the window and watched the other cars moving along. When we held at a flash light, he looked up to the sky. I glanced over to him and saw the moon’s light reflected in his grand brown eyes. The colour was dazzling.
I gulped and asked him how _Frau_ Cykes was holding up. He answered me casually that she was doing pretty fine, as far as he knew. He had not seen her today and only shortly yesterday, since she was preoccupied with helping _Herr_ Blackquill finding a new place to live.
We chattered a bit about the two and I told him I was quite curious how it would turn out to work with him. He laughed at it and said that it would be fine.
Before I could ask more I realized that we were almost there and drove into the parking lot of the restaurant. We got off the car and I walked him into the building. It was a pretty classy (but not to classy, I did not want Apollo to feel out of place) place with a lot of colourful décor and we got a table next to a window in the corner of the room. A perfect place to talk without anybody listening.
We sat down, and I ordered us something to drink. He also let me choose our meal as he told me he had no problem with spicy food and that he liked Indian cuisine quite a lot. Then the conversation died down. He stared out of the window watching how the night came over the city and the lights started to get turned on.
The waiter brought our drinks, we thanked them and then Apollo exhaled deeply. He searched for my gaze and cracked a forlorn smile. I mimicked his expression sadly and waited for him to speak. There was no need to rush and he should have all the time he needed.
“You know”, he began and looked outside the window, “sometimes I think I should already be used to this. It sounds stupid, you don’t need to tell me, but I honestly think from time to time that I should have seen this coming.
I’ve had enough experiences with murder, accidents and that jazz to know what could happen. And still…
This… this really hurt more than I thought it could. I didn’t think that this would be possible…”
I did no longer hear the people talking around us. I only saw Apollo and the pain in his face, the brows knitted together in helplessness and his teeth gritted together forming a aching grin.
“He must have been an extraordinary friend to you”, I said and leaned forward. I folded my hands on the table and looked at him focused.
He turned at me. Next to the pain now a glint of curiosity and surprise shone in his eyes. Still he put them aside and took his opportunity to tell me more.
“He was. He really was. I’ve known him since middle school. After his mom died he was sent to the same orphanage as I and we grew to an unstoppable team. | 97b99d4631714a5cb65997117cc2f63d | ['95b6e20255e7496bad890318110aba2c'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Wednesday, 4 July 2029**
Nervously Nahyuta paced around in his room. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to tell his mother. He had to let her know that he was with Simon.
But how to do that was the question here. A week and one day had passed since he had returned to Khura’in and he still hadn’t gotten up the courage to tell her about it. Hesitantly he stopped in the middle of his room and glared at the carpet under his feet. A golden pattern of flowers on a deep ted ground. Follow the lines Nahyuta. Follow them and let yourself get pulled into the stream.
Amara had been happy to hear about Apollo and Klavier. She congratulated his brother and had been completely understanding for his need of privacy. Rayfa had been absolutely thrilled of the news even if it first threw her off a bit that he had fallen for a man. But after this initial reaction of confusion, she had asked a million questions and insisted on calling the poor ex-rock star to make sure that he was a good boyfriend for her quasi brother.
They would never be mad at him for liking a man. Why had he even thought about that? This would not be the problem here. His mother might worry since Simon was once convicted for murder and what it would mean for the royal house if people would learn about their relationship.
He had worried about that himself but there was no worth in worrying over that. He had checked in their constitution and they had no explicit rules against a same-sex relationship, so it was anyway ‘only’ a social problem and not a legal one. And somehow, they would work that out.
Nahyuta nodded determined and looked up to the door. He was as ready as he could be and made his way to his mother’s quarters. Quietly he walked along the halls and passed the guards who were bowing dutifully to their regent. He still wasn’t used or comfortable with their display of loyalty, but he had become really good in hiding his discomfort.
Finally, he had reached his mother’s room. He shot the guards beside the door a short look and dismissed them. He wished for privacy while doing this.
“Mother? May I enter for a talk with you?” Nahyuta calmly asked and laid his hand on the door.
Breathing felt heavier than usual and it was as if something stuck in his throat. Damned shall be his nervousness.
“You may enter.”
Nahyuta nodded to himself and opened the door. Quietly he closed it right behind him and looked around for his mother. A red divan with golden patterns sewed on the cushions, two arm hairs in the same colours, an unusually simple dressing table with a wooden chair in front of it, on which his mother sat.
She sat there upright, with her long hair undone and only wearing a plain pastel pink robe which even reached down to the floor and covered her feet. Somehow, Nahyuta couldn’t help it, he wished he could look just as elegant and pretty as her.
Just as he realized his thoughts, he pushed them away and wandered overt o his mother. Cautiously he looked over to armchair and she followed his look.
“Do sit down. Be comfortable”, She told him and went to them herself.
Gracefully she sat down and pointed him to do the same, which he did obediently. Discreetly he took a calming breath and then turned to his mother.
She eyed him eerily, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect of him. Which was natural because Nahyuta rarely just got up to visit her. His time was filled royal appointments or cases. They only really met when they were in session or at official meetings with other countries. Well, that was what Nahyuta told himself at least. He knew that if he really wanted, he could make time for her and vice-versa but apparently neither of them really wanted to do that. Or knew how to do it. Many years of separation lied between them and even after a year they hadn’t figured out how to close this gap.
For a moment Nahyuta wondered if his confession would make things even more awkward between them but then let the thought drop. He had come this far, now he would finish it.
“I need to tell you something. It is very important to me and I need you to listen before you are going to express your thoughts to the matter. Would that be alright with you?” Nahyuta asked his mother and folded his hands in his laps.
Amara barely reacted but the twitching of her eyebrows and a slight curling of her lips. Then she nodded and told him: “I accept. I see this is a personal matter? You want my advice and thoughts as a mother and not as former queen then?”
Nahyuta coughed lightly and lowered his head in agreement. It was strange to him having a mother and judging from her wording it was just as strange to Amara as it was to him. Only a small relief in this situation, though.
“I would prefer that, yes. Even though I suppose you will eventually give me your opinion as former queen concerning this matter anyway.
“Not that I blame you. I understand that it is a rather … unfortunate mixture of circumstances but it is not like I had a say in this, so…
… I hope you can understand that.
“Well. I am with someone. We didn’t give it a label, but we talked about it rather thoroughly and we are together now. This person was really patient and kind to me but doesn’t pamper me nor do they shy away from telling me their honest and unfiltered opinion about the things I do or say. |
1fa064701e47466a9f5399553841f16e | ['95dd5635eff145a6bd83a10d92723a0d'] | He cut the connection, and switched to the second line. “Hammond here.”
“ _Sir,_ ” Major Carter replied. “ _Checking in to let you know that our mini-Sherpa made it here in one piece._ ”
Well, at least _something_ was going well today. “Frostbite-free?” he asked.
“ _Not even nipped, going by the boasting_.” The major’s voice sobered. “ _I’ve done my best to explain what we need to her. I think she gets the idea – although she probably thinks we’re crazy_.”
Hammond sometimes wondered, himself. But his definition of _crazy_ had shifted somewhat since taking command of Earth’s front lines against everything the galaxy could throw at them. “Then you’d better get moving, Major. I just got Colonel O’Neill’s latest report from the infirmary. They’re down to one radiator, and the temperature is dropping fast. They may not have much time.”
“ _Understood. I just hope this pays off._ ” Carter’s voice was grim.
“One more thing. You have my authorization to make whatever promises you need to, within reason, to gain Sanura’s cooperation.”
“ _Sir?_ ”
He leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the notes he’d taken during the meeting with Nekht. He’d been in the middle of reviewing them when the base went to Hell in a handbasket.
_Exothermic Hell, at that_ , the back of his brain suggested, remembering the e-mail joke about the physics of Hell that had been making the rounds a while ago.
“We get through this, we still need to get the children home,” he reminded her. “Nekht claimed that Dur’Asada could only be reached through the Gate on P4X-684. Whether that was true or not, he was also our only source for the Stargate address – except for Sanura, or Djehuty. Either way, we’re going to need to deal with them. I’d rather be on good terms in that case.”
“ _Understood, sir,_ ” Carter said.
“Good. I’ll call Teal’c, warn him that you’re on your way. Hammond out.”
Hanging up, he had to pause and pinch the bridge of his nose as a resigned chuckle escaped, despite everything. _I should have asked Myers to make that bet official._
Major Carter had a _plan_. After being locked in a small office with Sergeant Dyne, and calling in a telekinetic that Colonel O’Neill had taken to calling, with good reason, the Dainty Demolitionist.
And he’d just given her carte blanche in negotiating with a Jaffa who _had_ to share a common ancestor with that same Colonel O’Neill, somewhere not nearly far enough back on the family tree.
_Just pray the mountain is still standing by morning…_
_~Even the Dragon-King’s temple floods.~_
The floor fell out from under her.
“What in…!”
Sanura’s startled exclamation cut short as her unexpected fall almost immediately met with an abrupt impact. Her body, faster on the uptake, tucked and rolled before her mind registered that she’d hit some hard, sloping surface. Mid-tumble, she felt the transition from slope to level ground. Long training had her slap the ground as she rolled, trying to kill her momentum before she fetched up against a wall, or worse. She succeeded, the last of her momentum carrying her up to her feet, facing back the way she’d come.
She blinked, half in an effort to clear the inevitable dizziness away, half in surprise. “What in Duat?” she repeated, less startled and more bemused. Now she could see that the floor of her cell had, apparently, spontaneously rearranged itself into a steep ramp down to the corridor on the level below.
She knew what she was looking at. She’d seen scenes like this, cleaning up the ha’tak after the escape.
_But why in the Lady’s name would the little earthshaker set me free? She is the one who put me in there._ And if she were the girl, she sure as Duat’s kiss would want herself locked up, especially after that _hellstorm_ that had been first contact.
“It would appear we have been offered an invitation,” Teal’c said thoughtfully. As Sanura blinked, he carefully began making his own way down the ramp. “Shall we oblige them?”
For a moment, Sanura’s mind raced. She was _out_. Her only opponent was Teal’c, and he was unarmed. Not odds she necessarily liked – she was good, but Teal’c was a legend. But if she could just get away from him…
_If indeed._
She knew the basic layout of the Tau’ri base; the Tok’ra’s databases weren’t _nearly_ as secure as they thought they were, not after millennia of stealing prototypes meant for a System Lord’s commission from the Wise One. Prototypes that had more than once been left out deliberately, sometimes with very _interesting_ not-in-the-design extras tucked away inside. And he’d gained more information from Nirrti’s observations, much as he hated having anything to do with her in so very many ways…
But the Tau’ri were no fools. They knew they’d been compromised more than once. They’d have updated things. And they had plenty of security measures that she didn’t know enough to get past.
Moreover… something was _wrong_ here. She didn’t even need those flashing lights or the siren of earlier to know. Every hair on the back of her neck was standing alert. This hallway was too _quiet_.
_Something is happening. If I try to escape, I have even odds of running straight into something worse, with no warning. Plenty of things out there that will raise hell among the Goa’uld just as gleefully as they would the Tau’ri._
Besides. She was _curious_.
_Which probably makes this the one case where indulging my curiosity involves going_ away _from trouble. Initially, at least._ She smirked a little at the thought and tilted her head. “Lead on.” | 8d4a05b509464095a58d6b912bc2c394 | ['95dd5635eff145a6bd83a10d92723a0d'] | _They have an entire vocabulary, an entire_ language, _based around the assumption that some people are under parasitic possession._
Janet suspected the truth was far more complex than that. It didn’t stop the fiercely visceral sense of repulsion. She shuddered, and tried not to be too obvious about edging faintly away.
She suspected that Urdu noticed anyway. But he courteously continued as though it hadn’t happened. “Well. We tend to take on the preferences of our partners. My interests run far more towards… say, Nubiti.” He shook his head. “Which can be somewhat disconcerting. The hazards of consecutive partners of different genders.”
Seated at a nearby display as she went over some form of schematic – from the bits of text Janet could make out, probably something from the Ancient database – the female Unas simply chuckled, not even bothering to look away from the display as she waved her hand in an unmistakable, _Go away, little boy, I’m not interested_ gesture.
Janet swallowed. She knew they had to stay on track… but…
“How did you survive separation?” she asked, hands tightening on the clipboard holding the reports and her notes.
Now Nubiti did look up. “The Goa’uld secretes a neural cytokine when preparing to leave. It allows the links between the neural networks to dissolve and reseal safely…”
The clipboard dropped to the floor with a clatter.
“Doctor?” Urdu said, frowning in concern.
Janet simply stared at the two of them. “The toxin,” she whispered, still reeling from the sudden realization. “The Goa’uld toxin… _isn’t_. Is it.”
The worst of it was, she _believed_ them. The whole concept of the toxin had _irked_ her. Goa’uld weren’t like the parasites that needed the host to die as part of their life cycle. They were dependent on their hosts, in so many ways. Given that there was no practical way for a host to harm the Goa’uld, and the potentially dire consequences to a Goa’uld whose host died… having a built-in way to kill its host simply did not make _sense_.
But that it was actually a _beneficent_ adaptation, but intended for a species with a completely different biochemistry…
“It’s an _abomination_ ,” Nubiti said hotly. “The _azti_ is a _gift_ , for healing and rebirth into a new self. To use it to _kill_ your other half…!”
Urdu sighed. “Unfortunately, for the System Lords that was considered part of the appeal of humans as hosts – the ability to control, absolutely, and give nothing up.”
“Give nothing up?” Janet asked warily, picking up her clipboard again.
Urdu steepled his fingers – which looked very odd, given the heavy claws at the end of each – thoughtfully, and Janet was struck by the sudden sense that he’d had this, or similar, conversations many, many times before.
“A _ghoti_ – a blending – between Unas and Goa’uld is precisely that,” Urdu said, and looked at her pointedly. “If you were to scan my brain, Doctor Fraiser – you would not be able to define any exact point where Ur ends and Djehuty begins.”
The hairs rose on the back of Janet’s neck. “But – if your neural matter is entwined that deeply…”
“It has a powerful effect on the personality.”
God, just the _thought_ was terrifying. “You mean you _literally_ take over the host’s brain.”
Urdu gave her that odd eyeblink again, and it really did come across just like a chiding eyebrow. “Doctor Fraiser, think. The blending is not one-way.”
Startled, she hauled back on her gut reaction. “…Your host rewrites your personality as much as you rewrite his.”
“Hm. I would call it _influencing_ ,” Urdu admitted. “There is no clear line between blue and green in the visible spectrum, yet they can still be called distinct colors. Or not, depending on how you are pre-disposed to view them. I am _Urdu_ as much, or more, as I am _Ur_ and _Djehuty_. But yes – exactly.” He frowned slightly. “This is far more confusing than it would be in Unarian, but… _I-Djehuty_ of Urdu is not the same as _I-Djehuty_ of Nubiti. Just as _I-Ur_ of Urdu is no longer _I-Ur_ the individual.”
He was right. That was confusing. _They make that many distinctions between different ways of saying_ I _? No wonder Sanura has at least three different names for Djehuty, depending on the context – that has to be confusing to keep straight. Danny’s going to be in heaven._ But if she broke it down and looked at it… “You’re saying that both sides of a… a _blending_ ,” God, it felt like treachery to call it that. She was glad Sam was out with Sanura and Teal’c, ensuring that the trapped yukiuso was dealt with permanently, rather than listening to this and remembering Jolinar, “become a kind of gestalt personality.” She shook her head. “And it doesn’t bother you?”
“It bothers some a great deal,” Nubiti said with a shrug. “Not everyone is prepared to become a Wisdom Seeker.”
No wonder. The idea of having your very self altered like that?
_Then again. Daniel’s pointed out a thousand times that culture has a huge impact on our concept of self-identity. If they come from a culture where this is common enough to have different pronouns… they may simply have a more fluid concept of self_. Hard as that was to imagine with the System Lords…
Ah.
“I’m guessing there are Goa’uld who aren’t too keen on that, either,” she said, eyes narrowing. “And that’s where we come in, isn’t it. Humans didn’t co-evolve with Goa’uld…”
“And your neurophysiology is compatible enough for control, but not compatible enough for blending.” Urdu shook his head. “The System Lords found the combination… addictive.” |
b35bb901ac454d5389833c9de794552f | ['95f0927ec4d8437288f633067bd96e08'] | _Nobody got out alive, except for me._
_On a brighter note, I met with Odasaku later that night and he was there, like he was always was. Sipping on his whiskey and sitting on that same stool with the same look as ever._
_Ah, Odasaku._
_Did you know, Odasaku, that I would break my promise to you?_
_Say, Odasaku…_
_…**I’m sorry**…_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I feel like I didn't do Oda justice in this one. Then again, he did just join the Port Mafia and is trying to become a reformed man so...
>
> Thoughts, anyone?
6. neither happiness nor unhappiness
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> _Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness._
>
> \- Dazai Osamu, **No Longer Human**
>
> (The Dragon Head Conflict, retold.)
** _05: neither happiness nor unhappiness_ **
_The bloodiest dispute ever seen in Yokohama underground. _
_It painted the moon red, the streets lined with the blood of sinners and innocents alike. Devils danced just as gods wept and mortals fled for their lives in the midst of all the chaos. _
_Eighty-eight days of Hell._
_A whirlwind of bloodshed that would never fade, its name etched in the memory of the city._
** _「 _ ** ** _The Dragon Head Conflict_ ** ** _ 」_ **
.
.
.
**Day 70 of the Conflict**
.
.
.
Soft footsteps resound in the crowded hallway. Normally this part of the building would be filled with silence due in part of its owner’s strict orders however the amount of work being handed over is so large that noise is necessary at the moment. No doubt there would be punishment for it later on but that’s only if they survive the aftermath.
That is why he can brush them off so easily.
“Please wait! We’ve been given orders not to allow anyone beyond this point, even for you, sir!”
“Please reconsider!”
“Nakahara-sama!”
“—I don’t care. Move aside.”
With a last shrug to the men behind him, Nakahara Chuuya steps forward to face a door.
It’s a double door, elegant in design and made of the finest wood Port Mafia can buy with plenty of money to spare. Chuuya guesses that it was made during the organization’s early days though he can’t bring himself to care for it much.
Especially not when the one beyond that door deserves nothing of its elegance.
So it’s with vindication that he kicks it open hard enough to _crack_.
Just as quickly, a knife enters his range with the aim to kill.
_For the Tainted Sorrow_ stops it before the damned thing can even make a nick.
“What a shame. And here I was hoping to see Chuuya collapse on the floor with blood on his face.”
That voice.
Few things are capable of making Chuuya’s blood boil. _That voice _is one of those unfortunate few.
Sharp blue eyes glare into the room’s interior where the owner sits.
Dark locks that can shift from black to a dark brown depending on the lighting, a bandage covering the left side of his face with the other visible one being a mixture of blood red and rust. Combined with his expensive suit and the equally lavish decoration in his office, he is what Kouyo’s girls would call “a devilishly handsome youth”.
Too bad his personality contradicts that.
“Shut up, Mackerel. You were sleeping just now weren’t you?!”
“Found out by a chibi. Oh, whatever shall I do?”
_Throw you out the window, for starters._
—Is what Chuuya thinks but doesn’t say. It will just be taken for an offer and _then_ he’ll be played with again. So he stays quiet, slips inside and closes the otherwise fine door to prevent anyone from eavesdropping further than they already have.
“The Boss is calling you and you decide to do _this_? You’re impossible.”
“Well, calm down. Being hot-blooded will get you nowhere at the moment.”
“How can I stay calm? We’re in the middle of Port Mafia’s – no, Yokohama’s – worst gang war in history and you’re here, wasting the time away with _napping_!!”
Chuuya knows he’s flailing. Can feel his arms move around, Kouyo’s hours of torturous lessons on poise and mannerisms gone in the heat of the moment. Does he care? A bit, Kouyo’s lessons _hurt_ after all, but most of all is that he’s pissed.
Pissed at Dazai for sitting behind that mahogany desk like there’s nothing going on outside. Pissed at himself for coming to this bastard in the first place when he knows that this guy is the most sadistic person in all of Yokohama and pissed at this entire fucking _bloodbath _going on that’s gone out of control.
“Hm, this _is _quite the trouble we’ve landed ourselves in.”
Dazai lists out the casualties rendered by the conflict so far: the loss of Takasekai, a weapons dealer company, the total collapse of GSS and several other organizations grinded to the dust.
In the end, the only ones left standing are Port Mafia, the Gifted Special Divisions Department, and the cause White Kirin.
He finishes listing all the other casualties with a nonchalant air, a glass chessboard placed before him in a game pitted against himself.
(_Chuuya called him a narcissist once. _
_He has yet to hear a negative._)
“If you know what’s going on then do something about the situation outside!”
“I’m sure Mori-san can deal with this problem himself. Our main problem lies what’s not present in the conflict after all.”
“You mean Jinrui Corporations?”
Chuuya scowls at the mention of the dreaded company (though the one who mentioned it was him). Jinrui Corporations had done nothing but be a pain in Port Mafia’s side for the past few years; rivalling their Mori Corporation’s assets point for point, surpassing them by a margin in sales and even monopoly over some of the shipyards were lost to Jinrui Corporations. | e897d6e169ff48e184964a7b1b4004a1 | ['95f0927ec4d8437288f633067bd96e08'] | The Book works in the laws of Karma. When you write something on its page, the Book will automatically draw out the parallel reality that fits the writings and rewrites a part of the present reality to make it fit better into ours. Kind of like patching a new cloth into an old one without changing the design so that it still looks the same.
No Longer Human nullified the Book’s Ability of rewriting reality. What do you think happened next?
……
…
My Ability nullifies everything it touches. The Book, though only a mere fraction of it, entered my bloodstream and thus resides in me forever.
The Book and I share a symbiosis with each other.
In a way, I suppose you could say I am the Book.
That’s why I was targeted.
Ranpo-san already figured it out earlier.
The culprit for stealing those files, the one who was responsible for putting me in the hospital and under such condition…was a former test subject like me.
AG023. Ability Name: Flight of Erebus
President, there’s no need to prepare for another attack.
The enemy’s Ability isn’t the threat, it’s what they intend to do with the Book when they get to me.
I have a plan. And for that, we will need all hands on deck.
The fate of not only Yokohama but the entire world rests on it.
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—_From the Viewpoint of Dazai Osamu, End_—
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**Notes for the Chapter:**
> We're nearing the endgame people! *blows trumpets* Just a few more chapters to go and then I'll be able to post the epilogue...
>
> Was considering on posting this tomorrow but oh well!
>
> For any of you wondering why there's no quote in this chapter, it's because Part I and Part II are from the same quote so I'll be posting the full text in Part II.
13. a distortion of lies
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> _Forced explanations often end in a distortion of lies._
― Dazai Osamu, **パンドラの匣 (Pandora’s Box)**
(Part II; something revealed, something left unsaid)
** _11: a distortion of lies_ **
Atsushi can’t sleep.
Dazai’s surprising revelation has left everyone unsettled by the words he’s spoken and the President has let everyone take a moment to rest in preparation for tomorrow. Atsushi is supposed to be at the dorms with Kyouka but somehow, he can’t stay still.
He’s lived through plenty of things; the abuse that the Headmaster had enforced upon him in his youth, Akutagawa’s relentless pursuit against his life, the Guild’s attacks and Dostoyevsky’s band of zealous followers.
Each of them were life-threatening and horrifying to go up against, each had their risks should he fail.
But the fate of the world?
A shudder runs down his spine involuntarily.
“—Can’t sleep, Atsushi-kun?”
The weretiger jumps slightly at the voice. Turning behind him, he could see Dazai approaching him with graceful steps that shouldn’t be possible for a man who just got out of critical condition yesterday.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Dazai-san?” Atsushi asks in exasperation.
“I’ve been in bed for too long, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai whines childishly. “Yosano-sensei’s already threatened to perform her worst on me should I try any suicide method so I can’t even perform my hobby. Can you imagine the horror I felt when I heard?”
Atsushi can imagine their resident doctor’s face decorated in a manic grin, chainsaw in hand and vibrating ominously as she loomed over Dazai, and shudders. There are some people you aren’t supposed to cross no matter who you are and Yosano Akiko is one of them.
Warmth settles beside Atsushi as Dazai stands beside him. The man is such a steady presence beside him that he feels the knot in his chest uncoiling, the heavy feeling that’s kept lodged in his throat ever since this began disappearing.
The tension must have been visible because shortly after that, Dazai gives him a side glance and whispers,
“You don’t have to think too much about it.”
What?
Atsushi blinks and looks up. Dark brown eyes stay drawn to the full moon that hangs above them, continuing in a soft voice.
“Things like the fate of the world or even the fate of reality…you don’t have to think too much about it, Atsushi-kun. Just focus on protecting what’s in front of you and what matters most. That’s your specialty and it’s where you excel at.”
Leave the deep thinking to me this time.
Atsushi stares.
Ever since he’s known the man, he’s tried to understand the person known as Dazai Osamu. Why he would want to commit suicide, why he did the things he did, what convinced him to leave the Port Mafia and become a member of the Armed Detective Agency…all of these questions ran around Atsushi’s mind in circles and every time he found an answer to them the questions just kept on increasing.
But in light of recent events…the words and images that refuse to leave his mind, of the child Dazai strapped to the table as they performed heinous experiments on him and other children…Atsushi thinks he can understand his mentor a little more now.
“…Dazai-san, the reason why you were so adamant on keeping the Book away from Dostoyevsky, why you knew so much about it...”
It’s because it was you all along.
There is no reply from the other. Instead, he gazes upwards and lets the silence hang.
“The Book is sentient, Atsushi-kun,” he says suddenly. “While I might be able to influence the Book on certain matters, the Book has always had an awareness, albeit a small one. It takes into account every single possibility that occurs, every beginning and end. Minding nothing but its own functions and for every owner, this never changed.”
Until…
Dazai’s lips tilt to a small smile, the eye that Atsushi now knows is fake glimmers beneath his bangs while his real one reflects the moonlight above them. |
0076a91f23ec48f499aa7d5e808cce02 | ['960b489bb9bd44b583144f01561c2420'] | She felt his essence inside her as he came undone by her - her alone had made this happen, and the thought furthered her orgasm a little, making it stretch out a bit longer.
She collapsed back into the now crumbled blanket and robe, her head hitting the pillow and duvet and heaved for breath, the stars behind her eyelids dissipating and she felt herself losing her hearing slowly, the whispering sound of television snow creeping in.
He was holding himself up by the elbows, his right hand having gently guided her leg down in a natural position, and he was breathing heavily too.
“Barbara – “ he began, but he couldn’t seem to finish as his breath was coming out in uneven little spurts, his back shuddering and instead he simply sunk his head in between the juncture of skin that separated her shoulder from her neck – he smelled amazing she reckoned.
Oh, what a night - what a perfect, crazy, defining night this had been.
Barbara found her hand dragging up to lie on Walter’s back, just below his shoulder blades and – oh – his wings were out.
“Sorry” – she heard him mumble into her skin.
She dared to open her eyes – did she keep closing them? – And looked at the frazzled up curtains behind the couch, and the knocked over coffee table on the ground.
She hadn’t even heard them flap.
She started to giggle - Ohmy she had actually made him lose control of his wings!
She figured he had other forms besides the cape and the wings, but he’d chosen, or well, ended up in his winged one? That was certainly interesting.
“No need to apologize flyboy - though I think your sandwiches are somewhere over by the bookcase.” – she added with a snicker.
He lifted his head at the nickname and shot her a distasteful look – oh she was so keeping that nickname.
“Are you okay?” She added to ease his mind, and she was truly being honest. He seemed a bit overwhelmed.
“I – Yes. I am very much okay.” His expression gentled and he looked at her with adoration in his eyes.
“And you? I mean did you enjoy that?” - A faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
She nuzzled his face with her nose and kissed his cheek – “Very, very much so.”
He chuckled, and Barbara decided that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.
She drew languid circles on his back with her fingers, and his wings drew down to cover them both.
They lay there for a short while, simply taking in the silence around them and noticed that the TV had been on – oh right, she’d been meant to pay attention to that at some point right?
_Fruitless efforts._
Fruitless indeed, though Barbara concluded that the efforts they had both made tonight were not fruitless at all, and maybe the whole situation called her life was not as bad as it could be.
_Shfft! The knife found its place in the holder on the kitchen counter, and she couldn’t have been happier._ | 48c2ed2ddc1840c9b466e20bc0d5ca2d | ['960b489bb9bd44b583144f01561c2420'] | “You know. I think she is here, at least in some way. I heard an elder from Elven village talk about spirits of your loved ones never truly leaving you. And if she truly never left, I bet she wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”
Dawn caught Marianne’s eyes in her own and gave her a reassuring smile. Oh, how Marianne just wanted to hold her baby sister close right now and never let her go - and she did just that.
Her arms extended and Marianne caught her sister in a warm hug, squeezing her close to her chest and she almost started crying again.
“Hey now, I wasn’t finished!” Dawn all but squeaked in delight as she returned her older sister’s hug with fervor.
“Thank you, Dawn. I really needed this. I’m sorry I ruined the mood like that... I just-” Dawn hugged her sister closer to her before Marianne could go on, almost crushing her and making breathing
difficult for the older princess.
“Don’t think about it. Not today - today is a day of happiness and a day to celebrate. Let her rest for another day and we can talk about her then. She can wait, Marianne, she will always wait for us.”
Dawn let her iron grip go and Marianne brought a hand up to rest on her sisters’ cheek in a loving gesture.
“Since when did you grow up so fast?” Marianne sniffled at her baby sister.
“Hey! I’m not the one getting married and crowned later this year miss _Queen of the Fairfield’s_!”
Dawn gently punched her sisters’ shoulder as her eyes twinkled with mischief, and oh how Marianne loved this girl and her ability to always lighten the mood.
The two then proceeded to spend most of the morning laughing and getting ready for the upcoming ceremony.
Marianne was supposed to come back to her room for a quick inspection of her makeup and hair, all managed by Dawn of course, before she’d be allowed to enter the ballroom.
Marianne thought it silly, but Roland had apparently agreed on the idea, exclaiming that he needed his bride looking as pretty-fine as possible for their dance.
A short hour before the ceremony was spent exchanging stories of the sister’s romantic conquests in good-humored fun. Marianne hadn’t been a total rookie in the romantic scene before she met Roland, but she felt like she’d never need anyone aside from him for as long as she lived.
4. Chapter 2 - Something Wicked
* _Five years later_
“Parry your Majesty, parry! Good! Now, watch out for your right! Yes, good!”
Droplets of sweat flung off of Marianne’s forehead as she threw her sword into the air. As the gleaming piece of metal spun above them, Marianne kicked out with her left foot to tumble an opponent over, blocked an oncoming
attack with her right arm from another, and grunted out one frustrated groan after the other.
“You’re doing great! Excellent form!”
She unabashedly flipped off her commenting spectator with her right hand, and as laughter abrupted among the training fairies, Marianne felt more at ease than she’d done in weeks.
A fine sheen of sweat clung to her body, her lungs were burning with every breath she took, her muscles were aching and her body made every attempt to remind her that she’d been at this for _hours._
Almar erupted in a roar as he charged for her left wing from behind her, and while Marianne fought off David with vigor in front of her, Freya flanked her from above, sword in hand and her golden wings spread wide.
The queen had little time to react she knew, as she’d seen this tactic before. She ducked and let Almar and David crash into one another, and as Marianne rolled out from beneath them she caught her sword as it fell to the
ground, clashing it together with Freya’s one millisecond before the affronted metal sliced through her shoulder.
The loud clang reverberated throughout the courtyard, and as the first rays of sunshine made it over the treetops of the Dark Forest out in the distance, the dew on the grass around the group started shimmering like crystals.
Dawn was finally upon them.
Marianne lay on the ground half turned towards Freya who towered above her, the fairy’s auburn locks covering her eyes as she heaved for air, and as the two boys in the heap behind them started to groan and untangle
themselves, Marcus made his way over from where he had stood in the corner and analyzed the fight.
He was the oldest of the five, reaching his twenty-seventh winter this coming summer, and he was the most skilled fighter of them all.
“David, good footwork, though you need to practice on your landing” - David aimed a thumbs-up his way, still heaving facedown on the ground.
“Almar, Freya, try to ease up on the war roars, you could attract unwanted attention with all the shouting you’re doing!” - The two beamed at one another, having had some sort of contest all morning on who could shout
themselves hoarse before the other. It was a typical behaviour of the twins, and their freckled faces scrunched up with the huge smiles they displayed.
“And my queen, as I said; excellent form.”
Marianne got up and wiped down her dark leggings. This morning she had donned her favourite sparring outfit.
A purplish well-fitted tunic made of strengthened rose petals, dark purple leggings with intricate golden patterns, blackberry vines wrapped around both hands and made into a holster at her hips to support the scabbard for her
sword.
She ran her fingers through her hair and shook it free of dirt and accumulated dewdrops.
“Don’t be so kind Marcus, you know I want details on everything I did wrong.” She shot him a gentle, yet determined smile and winked at him.
The black haired man before her nodded seriously and narrowed his eyes at her. |
928c5302149842ea91c9e2a86d091269 | ['960e51493f524325ba405847f4b0fd2d'] | That year followed a similar pattern. In between training there were patrols that tended to be oddly peaceful. Freak storms blew in, the river would flow to fast to risk crossing, flooding. A very wet year to be sure. But a relatively peaceful one none the less. Enough so that Butsuma stopped indulging his twin sons and insisted on Kawarama going with his brother. He insistedthat it was high time that Tobirama learned his duties as an heir to the clan. As the spare.
Hashirama was furious when he found out that he’d called Tobirama the spare to his face. It was the first time he ever argued with their father.
*********
Three days after Kawarama’s patrol left without him Tobirama lost his usual calm. He burst in on Hashirama’s lessons, a look of pure terror on his face. Small, calloused hands grabbed his sleeve and tugged.
“Anija! You have to help!” He gasped, pulling his brother toward the door. “Something bad happened! Kawarama’s scared!”
Having never seen his brother scared before Hashirama never hesitated. He was up and moving, ignoring his tutors demands that he return.
They were out of the compound and halfway to the river, running faster than he ever had before, when they saw the first signs of battle.
Scorch marks and scattered weapons littered the trees. Cracks and piles of rubble marked the use of earth techniques. It was the blood that truly made them worry.
They made their way steadily to the bank where Hashirama had taken to skipping stones with his new friend. Cold dread settled in his stomach. He knew, of course, that they were likely enemies. He was just willing to look past that at this point. Having a friend outside the clan was new and amazing. That they shared a dream, for the same reasons even, was nothing short of a miracle. But if Kawarama was hurt, if Madara had a hand in it, he wasn’t sure if he could let that go.
(He loved Kawarama, but he also knew that if Kawarama died something in Tobi would be lost forever. And Tobi was the most precious thing in the world to him. He knew that must make him a bad brother to Itama and Kawarama, but he couldn’t help it. Tobirama stole his heart the day he was born)
He was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard Tobirama cry out. There was Kawarama and the rest of the patrol, weary and wounded. The blood running down Kawarama’s face snapped something deep inside Hashirama, and the forest answered his rage even as the river answered Tobirama’s.
Watery arms reached out and pulledthe enemies close to riverbank into the icy water even as a stream of water rose up and impaled the man directly infront of their brother.
Those near the the forest were impaled on spikes shooting up from the ground or strangled by vines falling from the trees.
The screams were horrible, but those Bastards had made his little brother bleed. He would deal with the nightmares later. (He was going to have some company while dealing with them.)
2. Aftermath
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hashirama and Tobirama are having a hard time sleeping.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kinda short, next chapter should have all of the brothers.
Hashirama woke with a jolt, a scream trapped in his throat and terror sending ice through his veins. A quick glance showed Kawarama sleeping soundly, wrapped in his blankets like a caterpillar. Safe and sound. Slightly scarred. But alive. ‘Thank all that’s good in this world, we didn’t lose him!’
To Kawarama’s other side was Itama. Also safe and sound. As a budding healer he was kept closer to home. Healers and sensors being to valuable to risk on missions. Hashirama was so greatful, and felt so guilty for it, that at least one of his brothers was kept safe. Because sensor or not, Tobirama was to powerful not to send on missions.
The next futon was empty sending Hashirama’s heart racing again. Where was Tobirama?!
Heart in his throat Hashirama scrambled from his futon and looked around desperately. The window was open, the breeze bringing in the occasional drop of rain. Before he even realized what he was doing he felt the rain on his face.
He didn’t stop to think before climbing out the window. He just knew his baby brother was out there.
The storm was awful, the worst one Hashirama could remember. The wind was howling, lightening split the sky every few seconds and the thunder… it sounded almost like a living thing. Raging and wild, inspiring a primal fear in Hashirama’s very soul. Any other time he would have turned back and curled in his futon until morning. But… but his Tobi was out there. He couldn’t stay inside knowing his baby brother was out in the storm. No matter that he knew Tobirama was safer than he was.
So he walked farther from the main house, out into the woods and off the path. There was a little spring out there that Tobi liked to swim in and he just knew that’s where he would find his brother. He just had to see him with his own eyes. See him alive and whole. He would sit out in the rain with him all night if it ment he was sure he was still there.
*** | aa728b463d4e4104be7def8fc7cad441 | ['960e51493f524325ba405847f4b0fd2d'] | Picking up the empty mug resting on the desk he turned it in his hands gently. It would take more than an apology to mend things with his brother. If it was even possible. After what he had almost done, he couldn't say he would blame his brother for never speaking to him again. Hell, even Butsuma had at least made sure he was comfortable with the idea of marrying Mito. Gave them all the time they had needed to get to know eachother. To court eachother. And here he was telling his own little brother, who had never really shown an interest in being married, that he had to marry a woman he had never met. For the greater good.
He felt sick and slimy.
The office door opening behind him had him perking up, an apology already on his lips when his world came crashing down.
"So you've heard the rumors too?"
Touka's voice, filled with a malicious glee, had him hunching in on himself. She had been just as opposed to the marriage as Tobirama was. And she wasn't afraid to let him know who held her loyalty.
He turned to face her, hoping she would share the rumor and give him the hint he needed to find his brother.
"I haven't spoken to anyone yet today, Touka. Not even my wife. I wanted to talk to Tobirama."
She sneered at him, expecting him to try and push for the marriage again. He wanted to crawl into a hole at how close he had come to proving her right. When he had gone to bed the night before he had planned on talking to him again. Thinking if they were both rested and rational... but he had been the only irrational one.
"Bit late for your plans then. Rumor mill is going wild. Apparently he went home with Indra after a rather intimate date."
Several emotions hit him at once. Excitement that his brother was finally showing an interest in someone. Hurt that he hadn't said anything, and annoyance at himself for feeling hurt at all. He hadn't given his brother much reason to talk to him about his personal life. And then fear slammed into him.
"Madara's brother? That Indra? You're certain it wasn't the Nara?"
Touka's smile was enough to send shivers down his spine. Not Nara Indra then. It had been a fools hope. As intelligent as the clan was, their inherent laziness was enough to drive Tobirama up a wall. But Madara's brother was as intelligent as any Nara, and was more willing to go out and *do* things. And apparently more Tobirama's type.
"I didn't see it. But Hikaku did. Apparently they really are very close."
"Well then. I suppose it's a good thing I've decided to cancel the marriage contract."
The raised brow was a bit much, but he could understand why she was so skeptical. It didn't change the fact that he had decided to cancle it. Realizing that he was driving his last brother away was a good motivator.
"If that's the case then why did the council ask me to fetch Tobirama to go over his duties after the wedding? You know, after he moves to the fucking capitol!?"
Hashirama froze, something dark and angry bubbling up inside him. He had told the council to give him time. To show Tobirama the logic in accepting the marriage. Foolish of him, he knew that now. And cruel. But if the council was doing this behind his back... If they thought for an instant that he was willing to send his brother away and had managed to convince Tobirama of that...
He could deal with the horror that came with Tobirama dating Uchiha Indra later.
"Touka, my favorite cousin, how would you like to help me weed out the council?"
Surprise, pleasure and pride flashed in Touka's eyes.
"Well then, little cousin. I thought you would never ask."
***
Madara had been amused ever since he'd had to go and help Indra wake Tobirama up. Though even he could admit that the two had made a touching scene, Tobirama so relaxed in his brothers lap while Indra was running fingers through his tossled hair. And he had been slightly jealous, he'd always thought Tobirama's hair looked soft.
It seemed that Tobirama had made a habit of sleeping on his brother.
The first time had been over a year before. Madara hadn't even known they were friends at that point.
It had been after a day of nothing but meetings, everyone was tired and stressed. Tempers had been running high and by the end of it all Madara had just wanted a spare with someone he didn't want to strangle. So he had gone looking for his brother in his garden and stumbled to a halt. Tobirama had been leaning against Indra's shoulder sound asleep. He looked more peaceful than Madara had ever seen him. And he looked so young at that moment, driving home the fact that the man was the youngest of the founding group.
It had been a good reminder that Tobirama was his own person and not just Izuna's rival. So when it took Indra far longer than it should have to wake the man Madara just rolled his eyes and made a fresh pot of tea before going to collect them both.
That had been several hours ago and he'd had a a great deal of fun watching his big brother stumble all over himself starting with breakfast.
Izuna had decided that since he was buying they were having an assortment of wagashi and fruit glazed with mizuame for breakfast. From the look on his face he had hoped Tobirama would have been annoyed, but the younger man had just politely thanked him and picked out an assortment for himself. With a marked preference for the cherries. |
3ff830c595124094b1b4ae9b344e111d | ['961f08396f894ab1a313d76dd88e60ae'] | “I just heard,” he began. “... Whoa. Were you going to tell me?”
Jane looked away guiltily. “Yes.”
“Before the end of the school year? Before you left?”
“Of course,” she said quietly. “I was just nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to avoid this.”
“Avoid what?”
“This conversation. I can’t have you asking me to stay or change or my mind. This is a really incredible opportunity, and it’s my first choice school. How unfair would it be for you to ask that of me? I mean, you’re planning on going to Harvard yourself.” She shook her head. “It’s a done deal, Bing. I’m going to New York.”
There was nothing more Bing could say to that. It was the truth. Dejected, he left the table, crumpling up the newspaper and tossing it in a bin as he left.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I had these last two chapters written as one chapter, but then decided I liked it better as two short ones. :)
>
> Hope you're all still enjoying this. We're getting to the end!
23. I've looked at love from both sides now
“Okay, WHAT is going on with you?” Charlotte said, one afternoon, perching on the Bennets’ couch.
“What do you mean?” Lizzie said distractedly.
“I MEAN that I can understand you being all out of it and spacey while we were getting ready for SATs, but that was all over a couple weeks ago, and you’re still acting weird.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? So this has nothing to do with a certain gentleman you hung out with over Christmas break whom you’ve described many times in unflattering ways?”
Lizzie looked down guiltily. “Uh… let’s not bring THAT up.”
“Yeah, it’s not like it’s totally affecting your behavior or anything,” Charlotte said sarcastically.
Lizzie sighed. “Well, there’s nothing more to say about Darcy.”
“Uh, really? NOTHING?” Charlotte’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “I saw the pictures on your phone. And more importantly, I saw your face while you were telling me about him.”
Even now, Lizzie’s gaze softened, remembering. “I will admit there was a certain amount of -”
“Chemistry? _Heat_? _TENSION_?” Charlotte teased.
“- while I was in San Francisco,” Lizzie finished. “But I bugged out of there, and I haven’t heard a peep from him since,” she added, looking dejected.
“Have you tried calling _him_?” ask Charlotte, ever practical.
“We’re not _friends_ , Charlotte,” Lizzie replied, frustrated. “We hung out a couple times, but beyond that…” She paused, as the memory of his face close to hers, dripping in rainwater, flooded her mind. “... he’s a guy I used to complain about a lot.”
“Seriously?” she said. “You’re ‘not friends.’ You really believe that?”
Lizzie sighed. “William Darcy is a force of nature. You don’t just CALL him.”
Charlotte wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “I think, uh, confessing his love for you gives you a pretty good opener…”
“It was not a good day for either one of us,” Lizzie retorted. “And a lot’s happened since then,” she added.
“Exactly. You both got a chance to get to know each other.”
“Yes, and his feelings have almost certainly changed,” Lizzie said sadly.
“Have YOURS?”
Lizzie didn’t answer, but the wistful expression on her face was all the confirmation Charlotte needed.
“Lizzie?” Lydia called from her room the next afternoon. “I have to tell you something.”
Lizzie was at her sister’s side in an instant. “What’s up? What do you want to talk about?”
“Darcy.”
As always, the mention of his name made Lizzie’s expression change instantly. “You want to talk about Darcy?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’ve never been his biggest fan, and I didn’t like how he acted better than everyone else…”
“Yeah…”
“But I still don’t…” Lydia paused. “... I don’t know him very well, I guess, apart from what I’ve heard from people. Which is never a good way to know someone. And you know, I get it. He comes across one way when there’s really a lot more to him than that…”
“Uh,” Lizzie interrupted, “I’m still not sure why we’re, um…”
“Because I think it was him, Lizzie.”
“What was him?”
“Darcy’s the one who took care of my hospital bills.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“The day I went home from the hospital, Uncle Randy and Aunt Martha came to see me in the morning, and this guy in a suit came in and asked to talk to them in the hallway, but I could totally still hear them. And I remember he said something about ‘I’m here on behalf of William Darcy’ and ‘my client has asked me to deliver this,’ and they were both like, SHOCKED.”
Lizzie was also, like, SHOCKED. “Yeah, but… that doesn’t mean… Are you sure that’s what he said?”
Lydia nodded. “I’d totally forgotten about it until yesterday, when I overheard you talking to Charlotte about him. I mean, I don’t really know what it all means, but I thought you should know, in case you wanted to do something about it.”
Lizzie’s face flushed. “Why would I do something about it? I mean, we really should thank him, but uh… this isn’t about ME.”
Lydia gave her a Look. “Right,” she laughed. “Anyway, when you talk to him… tell him thanks, for me.”
Lizzie immediately called her aunt, who was surprised to hear from her but pleased, nonetheless, to finally tell her what had happened: the man who had come to the hospital that day was the Darcy family lawyer, and Darcy had been in touch with him ever since he’d found out about the accident. Apparently he had dipped into his own trust fund, which he could now legally access, to pay for Lydia’s bills, which he knew would be burdensome. | f01190ae5a7c4a4cadb46940abae1ac3 | ['961f08396f894ab1a313d76dd88e60ae'] | Lizzie shot an alarmed look over to Charlotte, who surreptitiously shook her head as if to say, “What do you want me to do?”
“Well… I…” Lizzie stalled. “What kind of friend would that make me just to send Charlotte away? Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her.”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to look alarmed, but she didn’t try to leave.
“Of course! Your loyalty to your friend does do you credit, Lizzie Bennet. Well, I’m sure you will be sharing the happy news with Ms. Lu before long anyhow.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“How do I begin?” Rick said. “Your efforts to impress me have not gone unnoticed, and actually add to your many qualities - “
_Oh no._ “Did you hear the bell? I think I just heard the bell…” Lizzie stammered nervously. She did not like where this conversation was going.
“You’re nervous, of course,” he continued. “My intentions have been too obvious. I was assured from the first moment of our acquaintance of our being happy together…”
_He can’t be serious_ , Lizzie thought, panicked.
“Lizzie Bennet…” he began, taking her hand as if proposing marriage. Other students were starting to stare.
_Ugh, oh god_. Lizzie pulled her hand back.
“... will you accompany me on social outing of a romantic nature this Saturday evening approaching?”
For once, Lizzie was speechless. She looked over at Charlotte, whose eyes were also wide.
“Perhaps I should inform you of my reasons for requesting your company…”
As he spoke, Lizzie’s mind raced to find a way out of the conversation. Luckily, Rick’s long-windedness afforded her plenty of time to think.
“... of course, it would be more _ideal_ for me to associate with a young lady of higher _status_ and better _connections_ , but you are _stalwart_ with a _vivacious_ personality, and I have no doubt that my reputation can make up for your social _deficiencies_. It is a great personal sacrifice, but I am willing to make it...”
“Wait. Wait. I haven’t even given you an answer yet. It’s very nice that you think so, uh, _highly_ of me, but I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to go out.” Lizzie braced herself, waiting for his reaction.
“Oh.” Rick looked confused for a moment, but then he smiled, as if something had just dawned on him. “You are simply trying to increase my anticipation by refusing me initially! I am aware that this is a common practice among young ladies…”
“No…”
“That is all right. I shall simply keep persisting until you say yes…”
“NO, Rick. You’re not getting it. I am saying NO.”
Rick finally understood, though he actually looked astonished at her rejection. “But I am well-respected and have a promising future ahead of me. With social status held as such a priority at this school, you cannot expect that anyone better might consider _you_ …”
Lizzie had had enough. It was bad enough to be made to feel inferior by one guy she didn’t even like - she didn’t need to add Rick Collins to that list as well. “Okay, I am _finished_ with this conversation,” she said angrily. Picking up her belongings, Lizzie stormed away, leaving behind a surprised Charlotte and a confused Rick.
She spent the rest of the afternoon ducking into the girls’ bathroom in between class periods.
Charlotte was waiting for her by her locker after school.
“Charlotte, I am SO sorry I just abandoned you at lunch, but I just couldn’t sit there and listen to him any longer,” Lizzie explained contritely.
“It’s okay,” Charlotte said carefully. “No big deal.”
Lizzie noticed the wariness in Charlotte’s town and was immediately worried. “What’s wrong, Charlotte? Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not.”
Her friend said nothing more, but Lizzie knew something was up.
“Okay,” Charlotte said finally. “I have to tell you something. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“Mad at you? Why?”
“Lizzie Bennet!” Rick’s voice floated down the hallway towards them.
Lizzie’s expression froze, and Charlotte looked down at the floor.
“My dearest Charlotte,” Ricky exclaimed as he reached them, sliding his hand into Charlotte’s.
_Oh_. “So… um… what’s up?” For the second time that day, Lizzie was without words.
“Charlotte and I plan to venture forth in search of mid-afternoon nourishment, where we will then discuss our plans for Saturday evening. There is to be a screening of a very _exciting_ documentary on the history of the printing press...”
Rick was speaking, but Lizzie could only look at Charlotte, who was actually blushing a little (while also completely avoiding Lizzie’s eyes).
“Would you like to accompany us?” Rick asked Lizzie.
Lizzie found that she couldn’t speak, couldn’t get over what she was seeing right before her eyes. Charlotte? And Rick? Going out to make date plans after she’d just turned him down?
“Hey, Rick, why don’t you go pull your car around?" Charlotte finally spoke. "I’ll wait for you here.”
“Oh. Okay. I will return in the briefest of moments!” he said dramatically.
Once he was out of earshot, Lizzie tugged on Charlotte’s arm. “WHAT are you doing?”
“After you left, he asked me out.”
“And you said YES?”
“What’s the problem? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t! And I thought you didn’t either!”
“I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Lizzie. He’s not so bad.”
Lizzie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “ _Not so bad_? Are you kidding me? He is annoying as all hell, and stalkery, and when he talks he sounds like a jackass. And he just asked you out after asking _me_ out! Rick Collins is a total dickhead, Charlotte, and I can’t believe you’re actually going out with him!” |
1ca2659c784f4d6a81b6ad825a807d01 | ['9637638a4af24d92ab5d4d207bd96bad'] | “On the ship from Mondas, right at their beginning!” Missy said, sitting up straight. “But we need to get him there…”
“...With a distress beacon, perhaps. You could go on a trip, and when his TARDIS receives the signal…”
“...He won’t be able to resist! We’ll arrive, and when we do, an army of Cybermen will be waiting. I’ll then say my promise was a lie-”
“-Which it of course was, right?”
“-And he’ll be so surprised by…” She sunk back in her seat. “No, he won’t. We’ve betrayed him too many times for it to truly shock him.”
They both sat in thought for a time, until the Master quietly said, “But how many of his human friends have we killed?”
She blinked. “I don’t think we ever have.”
“And didn’t you say he’d just gotten a new one?”
“Bill, a girl. And the gnome, too, if you count him.”
“Two, even better! Imagine the look on his face.”
She could. She had seen them all by now. Would he be heartbroken? Furious? Or - worst of all - disappointed?
“Then we can’t really do it,” she said. “We can pretend they’ve been turned into Cybermen and stash them away somewhere in the meantime. Make him believe we were the cause of it. Then, afterwards, we show him it was all a trick.”
The Master stood up. “What’s even the point, then? Did he go, ‘oh, nevermind, I didn’t _ really _ mess with your playlist, I didn’t _ really _ humiliate you in front of the whole of Prydon’? Since when did I get so… so _ weak _ ?”
Missy looked at herself, her past self, and remembered how fun and easy life had been. She hadn’t _ cared _ , not really, and it had made having fun so much simpler. A gunshot here, a decapitation there, she had always thought it didn’t matter anyway, because _ they weren't her _ . But somewhere along the line, she had started to see why killing and pillaging shouldn’t be as easy as all that.
“No,” Missy said. “We can go with it, make it as realistic as possible, but I don’t want to actually kill anyone this time.” She smiled. “Look at it like a challenge of sorts.”
He seemed to think it over and, in the end, nodded grudgingly. “Fine. But then we have to make it _ big _ , bigger than just two pretend-murders. What about pretend-killing the Doctor? We did that once, I know, but back then it was different, it always is when you’re young.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” She went up to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, and gave her previous self a sly smile. “Let’s kill the Doctor.”
* * *
A day later for her and a second later for the vault, she got a lift from the Master who then right after went to get his own TARDIS. She was worried the Doctor or his pet Nerd Doll had picked up the use of the vortex manipulator, but when she ate dinner with the Doctor later that afternoon - Mexican takeaway, she was getting quite fond of it - he didn’t mention it. In the end, she decided that even if he had noticed, it wouldn’t matter. He would still be surprised.
A month later, she took the TARDIS back to pick up the Doctor and Bill who had somehow gotten themselves stranded on Mars. Then she got to stay in the TARDIS while the others were running around in old Scotland. Really, it was all rather boring compared to what her previous travels had been like, but at least she was getting close to the Doctor so she could later crush him. Because that was still what she wanted, right?
Then finally, _ finally _ , after 70 years that had felt like an eternity and a minute all at once, they got to the conclusion: the Mondasian colony ship. It was a seemingly random destination to the Doctor but precisely planned by Missy. Yet, she actually didn’t have much of an idea what awaited her.
When discussing their plan, Missy had given the Master mostly free reigns, as long as he stayed within the “no permanent damage” limits. It had take quite some persuasion, especially when she wanted the Cybermen’s electrical charge to be turned non-lethal. It would still be painful, and you might think you were about to die for a second, but it couldn’t even hurt a human, not to mention a Time Lord. The same would account for the personnel’s guns.
Or, at least, it _ should _ have accounted to the personnel’s guns, but either Missy was hallucinating or the Master had somehow become _ extremely _ adapt at faking gaping holes in a human’s chest, because Bill looked like she might need immediate medical attention. Of course, both Missy and the Doctor knew it could be patched up just fine with the right technology, not even leaving a scar if treated quickly enough, but the Doctor didn’t know it would be here, waiting for her wherever she was taken. One fake-killed companion down, another to go.
Missy winked at the camera in the ceiling while the Doctor yelled at the blue man. Honestly, the man had no brain; even while he knew the vast time difference between this floor and the one Bill would be taken to _,_ he sure took his time explaining basic physics to the dumb-dumbs considering that he could have just taken the elevator straight away, doing his little speech and being a know-it-all there if he liked, and saved Bill a few years earlier.
When they finally did take the elevator, the ride felt surprisingly long. The air was tense; the Doctor stared ahead, attack-eyebrows in full action, and Nardole was just twiddling his thumbs.
Missy reached out, taking the Doctor’s hand in hers. | 58c3312a4ab84c87a33da4d12acb8f93 | ['9637638a4af24d92ab5d4d207bd96bad'] | “Leave! We don’t want hippies here!”
The Doctor’s face grew more red. “Sure, I will, soon, but just listen to me. People will die-”
“From boredom!” The Pilthalians started laughing.
Giving the Master a ‘ _can you believe them ?_ ’ look, the Doctor shook his head. “Okay, what’s your problem?”
The Master was almost impressed with the Doctor, who looked like he was getting increasingly agitated. He made the crowd quiet down again.
“Right, so what was I talking about?” the Doctor said. All of his positive energy seemed to have been drained from him. “Some stuff about a new government, slavery, and guns are bad-”
“You’re worse!”
Again, the Pilthalians started laughing and cheering. The Master, not able to stop himself, joined them.
“Yes. Hysterical,” the Doctor said. “But it’s really important that-”
“You leave us alone!”
“Alright, you know what? You figure it out yourself, then,” the Doctor said and stomped out the room.
The Master clapped along with the Pilthalians. “The Doctor, everybody! Now, we really gotta go, but we enjoyed the tribute to your savior immensely! Remember, separating the Greens into smaller groups, giving some of them more power than the others, is a great way to rule them,” he added before following the Doctor out.
When he caught up to him, the Doctor was still upset.
“Did you see that?” the Doctor said.
“Yeah.”
“What in Rassilon’s name. That was the first time that’s happened.”
Again, he started running his hand through his hair. “I don’t understand. Anix had seemed so reasonable before. And Solim called me a hippy! He’s the one who literally fastened himself to a tree so it wouldn’t get cut down!”
The Master laughed and decided it was time to reveal himself. “I made them do it.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I don’t know whether I want to believe you.”
“It’s true.” He took out his laser screwdriver and dislodged the small black chip that was the Neural Control Application, showing it to the Doctor. “I used this.”
The Master then started explaining how it worked and saw the Doctor’s face slowly turn to from disbelief to shock.
“But… what did you do that for? What about the Pilthalians?”
“They should be themselves by now. But they probably feel pretty embarrassed.” The Master smirked. “Not as much as you did, though.”
The Doctor’s eyebrows almost reached his hairline by this point. “You did all of that for a _prank_?”
“You know, I feel really bad,” the Master said sarcastically, “but then I remember how many old classmates have mocked me the last few weeks.”
“That’s different, these people didn’t know what was going on! So… you just stood there and made them say it?”
“Yeah.”
“That… someone could have been really traumatized by that, with the loss of control and everything.”
“Oh, come on, don’t try to make me feel bad, you know it won’t work.”
Entering the TARDIS, the Doctor sat down and had the tiniest hint of a smile. “That was a mean one.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Audience prank:
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFPu4oSlIPE
4. The Master's Big Break
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So this chapter got way too long. It's longer than the previous three chapters put together even though I tried to cut down on it as much as possible while maintaining a coherent and entertaining story. I considered seperating it into several chapters, but it didn't feel right to have a chapter of a prank war fic without any pranks in it.
> In short, I apologize for my lack of consistency. I can't promise that the future three chapters will be any less irregular in length.
>
> On another note, this chapter does heavily feature characters not shown on TV (or at least not AS shown on TV), namely the main four characters from the Gallifrey audio series. It's not required to have listened to the series to understand the chapter; it's still mostly about the Doctor making fun of the Master. It doesn't spoil any major things from the audio series, but it hints a bit at one of the archs of series 2.
> For those who are curious, the Gallifrey part takes place somewhere between series 1 and series 2 of the audio series.
The Doctor had thought of a brilliant plan. No, not just brilliant, spectacular, magnificent, _fantastic_. It was, however, a bit too mean, he could admit that. I'd raise the Master's expectations about something more than just a TV show from Earth, and it would yet again involve going to Gallifrey, which none of them were too happy about on principal. He’d just have to mull it over.
It wasn't like there was much else to do at the moment. After having mysteriously disappeared out of the blue after excusing himself one evening, the Master was still nowhere to be found a week later. At first, the Doctor had just thought he wanted some alone time, but when he hadn’t returned for travels or movie night or any of the other of the small activites they'd started sharing, the Doctor had started growing concerned.
After searching through the TARDIS for a while, he thought that maybe the Master had taken a trip somewhere on his own. He went to the console room and started checking its travel history when the door opened and three figures stepped inside.
One was the Master, looking the same as he had when the Doctor had last seen him, the new silvery grey goatee and all. The other two, however, were unknown, though they were probably Time Lords or at least aliens from another technologically advanced society if their lack of, “it’s bigger on the inside!” comments were anything to go by.
“Here you go,” one of them said, an old-looking man with a ragged coat and wild, grey hair that the Doctor couldn’t help but respect. “One Master ready-delivered. Please keep a better look on him next time.” |
06106be3d0574f858152f593159aee94 | ['96419f21a46447ca9a42b67ca13e03a1'] | “Yes. I needed to understand your feelings.”
“Well. Did you?” His voice almost cracked at this point.
“I did.”
“You obviously didn’t, idiot.” He went back to his normal voice now. _He almost got me._
“What do you mean?”
“Give me back my letter. You don’t deserve to keep it. You disrespected me, Wonwoo.” Soonyoung said with a hint of anger in his voice.
“What do you mean, Soonyoung? Who was it exactly? Why are you keeping secrets from me?” Wonwoo almost yelled. If they were not still in front of the sports arena, he would have yelled at Soonyoung.
“No one, okay? How much of an idiot can you be? You should have known. You should have _known_, Wonwoo!” Soonyoung yelled, not minding of where they were at.
“_I’m _an idiot? Of course I am because you didn’t tell me anything of this. The letter. The girl. Who is she? Do I know her?” Wonwoo retorted, angered at being called an idiot repetitively.
“Why? Why does it matter so much to you?” Soonyoung sounded equally angry as Wonwoo was.
“We’re best friends.”
“Stop talking as if you never keep a secret from me.”
“I never said I never kept a secret from you.”
“Will you tell me if I asked you then?”
Silence.
“You wouldn’t too. Would you?” Soonyoung answered his own question.
“This was not about me.” Wonwoo said in frustration.
“Then don’t make this about me either.”
“You just won’t tell me.”
“You know what. If you wanted to know so much about who the girl in the letter is, read it again over and over again. You never seemed tired of reading it as you said.” Soonyoung turned and stormed his way off, leaving Wonwoo behind.
He stopped after a few steps and yelled “Jeon Wonwoo is an idiot and I hate him so much I won’t talk to him anymore!” He then ran away, not bothered of Wonwoo’s dumbfounded look of the whole situation.
“Please don’t hate me, Soonyoung.” Wonwoo said under his breath covering his face with both of his hands. “I _am _an idiot for you.”
***
A week had passed after Wonwoo and Soonyoung had their fight. The first day, he thought of apologizing to Soonyoung and he wanted to return the letter. Unfortunately, he was told by Soonyoung’s sister that he had left for school already.
Wonwoo’s days went empty just like that with Soonyoung being already gone to the school on his own and he was also told by Yerin that Soonyoung had volunteered to help Mr. Hong at the library. Soonyoung even had his lunch with the said teacher and he saw it with his own eyes.
So he had his lunch with Jihoon instead. At least, he still had someone to talk to.
“Soonyoung said he hates me and calls me an idiot.” Wonwoo was lying down on the basketball court when he said that.
“You are, though.” Jihoon, who was lying next to Wonwoo approved his timid vents.
“I was just trying to be helpful. Isn’t that what best friends would do? We fought before but it never went on this long. It’s been a week now. Did you know he signed up to be Mr. Hong’s errand boy when no one in our class even bothered to volunteer?” He said in a breath.
“So I’ve heard.” _Yeah. Yeah. Idiot._ “So why exactly did you two fight?”
Wonwoo sat up straight and stared down at Jihoon covering him from the summer sunlight.
“Soonyoung said Yerin has a boyfriend.”
“Oh. So-“
“Wait. Let me finish. So I thought I was wrong and I insisted to know who the girl was. And-“
“You thought his crush was a _girl_?” Jihoon interrupted Wonwoo again.
“Can you let me finish, for real?”
“Uh oh. Go on.” _What. An. Utter. Idiot. _
“So I pushed him. I said he kept a secret from me. So I asked him who she was and he kept on calling me an idiot. He even yelled idiot in front of everyone at the arena.” Wonwoo whined angrily.
“Remember when I said he came to me earlier this year?” Jihoon, now sitting up straight too, replied with a question.
“Yeah. What did he say?”
“I don’t know.” Jihoon just shrugged avoiding Wonwoo’s question. “But seriously, how did you come to a conclusion that he liked a girl?”
“He wrote a letter. Duh.” Wonwoo acted like he was writing to show his point.
“No, _idiot_. I meant, how sure are you that he wrote that letter for a _girl_?” Jihoon questioned.
Wonwoo went silent and gasped loudly.
“You mean, He likes boys?”
Jihoon shrugged again.
“Wait. You know something?” _Now_ Wonwoo is filled with terror. _Soonyoung liked boys too. No way on Earth. _
“I mean. You like boys too, right? You kinda told me that. You just never mentioned who.” _But seriously, I know who. _
“Yeah. I mean, Soonyoung never said anything about that.” Wonwoo admitted to the fact that he indeed liked boys. More like a boy. And the boy was currently ignoring him.
“But, have you? Have you said anything about that to him? Have you opened up to him too? _You _keep secrets too, Wonwoo. You were being unfair to him. You said he wrote a letter and you even read it. That’s an invasion of privacy.” Jihoon nagged then he facepalmed himself.
“In my defence, he put it in a textbook and there was no name on it. And if he does like boys, there were many other boys in our school. How would I know?” _No way. No. No. Not him, whoever he was. When I’m here, Soonyoung. _
Jihoon facepalmed himself again to the sight of an oblivious and a total idiot Jeon Wonwoo. | 08d9834aec30482b8d6838b6a848a72b | ['96419f21a46447ca9a42b67ca13e03a1'] |
1. The Letter, The Confrontation and The Confession
**Author's Note:**
> Hiya. This is my first writing and it's a work in progress too. I'd like to let everyone know that I wrote this on my phone and also English was not my first language so please pardon my grammatical errors. This is also not beta-read because I'm just too shy to make my friend read my writing >O< Also, I was inspired to write this by an au prompt that miraculously appeared on my twitter timeline. The title was inspired by Seventeen's Love Letter (God I love that song) This work is very bare minimum but I love Soonwoo so so so so so much I can't help but to take up on the prompt for Soonwoo. and in case my best friend sees this, please don't laugh at me. I hope everyone can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Soonyoung let out an audible sigh. He was staring at the “letter of confession” that he had been done writing since the last 3 periods of Korean literature ago. He wrote the name of the person that the letter was supposed to be written for. He stared at the name. “On second thought, let’s not write the name first. What if I lose the letter and he…” He murmured to himself. So he erased the name and only leaving “from ksy” at the bottom-left of the letter. _Thankgod I wrote it with a pencil. _
The bell rang, signaling it was the break time for the first half of the day. The classroom door slid open. A face too familiar and _ always _ welcomed appeared. Soonyoung flashed a wide smile.
“Let’s go, Soonyoung-ah. My mom made us kimchi fried rice today. Extra kimchi for you”, Jeon Wonwoo, Soonyoung’s best friend since forever yelled from the door. Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung were now in their third year of high school. The two had always been together in the same class all these while, but somehow they got separated as they entered third year, making it a routine for Wonwoo to walk to Soonyoung’s classroom and vice versa.
“Alright, alright Wonwoo-yah. Wait a sec. Let me keep my things first”, Soonyoung said it out loud while carefully stuffing his stationeries into the desk, never forgetting to carefully folding his masterpiece of a confession letter and placing it in between pages of his Korean literature text book. “Now let me indulge in your mom’s delicious kimchi fried rice”, he said as he walked to the door and he immediately placed his right arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Why do I always have to call you out for break time?”, Wonwoo complained as they walked through the crowd of students rushing to the cafeteria. Wonwoo felt a great blessing as he thought he did not have to join the crowd because _ ‘thanks mom for making me lunchbox everyday _ .’ “When you’re the hyung one here.”
“It’s because _ I’m _ the hyung one that you’d always have to call out. Dongsaeng-ah,” Soonyoung said as he ruffled Wonwoo’s hair jokingly.
“Right. Whatever. _ Hyung” _ Wonwoo smirked but soon it turned into a fond smile. He can never be _ actually _ annoyed with Soonyoung.
“You brought the kimchi fried rice and _ I _ am a kind-hearted Hyung who will buy my precious dongsaeng a banana milk. Wait here. Be right back.” Soonyoung made a small run to the cafeteria and losing himself in the crowd of students.
“No, Soonyoung. You don’t have-,” Wonwoo did not even get to finish his sentence as he watched Soonyoung coursing through the crowd. Soonyoung may be smaller, shorter than him but the said boy definitely was not a force to be reckoned with.
Soonyoung returned to Wonwoo’s side with two banana milks in hands and a wide toothy grin. The two then made their way to the bench nearby the school’s vast football field. Wonwoo laid out their lunchbox. “This is yours with extra kimchi and this is mine.”
“Your mom is the best. I wish I was his son too.” Soonyoung said with a smile that never seems to have left his bright face.
“I don’t want to have a brother like you. I don’t want to be brothers with you. We can never be brothers. Not in this life.” Wonwoo retorted with a serious face while keeping his glare at Soonyoung. He frowned with a trace of anger on his face.
Soonyoung gulped. “Yeah. I know I know. You’re too cool to have someone like me as a brother. Geez. You don’t have to be so hard on me.” Soonyoung countered awkwardly trying to get rid of the shock that he had from Wonwoo’s cat eyes glare. “Now eyes off me and let’s just eat. We don’t have forever for break time.”
They ate in silence. The screaming and yelling from other students playing football are the only sounds that were loyal enough to keep them entertained. Soonyoung stole a glance at Wonwoo. The remarks that Wonwoo made just now lingered in his mind. ‘I just thought that at least we can be together, _ forever _ if we were brothers,’ Soonyoung thought to himself. He stared at Wonwoo for one last time and then continued munching on his kimchi fried rice.
“Are you done?” Wonwoo had asked, breaking the silence. Without waiting for Soonyoung’s reply, he stacked the now empty lunchboxes together and collecting the empty banana milk bottles to throw into the rubbish bin nearby.
“Yeah. Thanks for the meal.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go back to our classrooms. I have some unsolved maths questions to _ solve _ and probably an essay that’s short of 300 more words to reach 1,000 _ .” _
“Okay.” Soonyoung winked. He turned, giving Wonwoo his back and missing the slight blush on Wonwoo’s handsome face.
*** |
1637e0bed85c479daed812004374e95e | ['964506be4ab2495e91a6e1a21af67942'] |
Burning Drabbles
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Burning Heart (100) JeanMarco
Living in a world like this was hard. Sure, they had grown up normally, safe, inside those huge walls, protected from the cruel world. And now? Now everything was different.
The walls were torn down, many of his friends had died and Jean? Jean was sitting on his bed late at night, thinking of him. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering and the hot tears from burning his eyes. He wasn't going to let anyone see though. This was a moment just for him. For him, only him and the love of his life.
“Marco... I miss you.”
Burning Jealousy (101) LuKi
Kanata, Kanata, Kanata everywhere. He couldn't ear it anymore. Yes, he shouldn't react like this, feeling like a defiant child, but he couldn't help it. He loved Yuki. With all his mind, he would do everything for him and what did the smaller do? Think and cry about Kanata without wasting a single thought about him. It was hard, really hard for Luka. So he was standing there, watching the other sit on the roof and mumbling about how this can't be and that he missed his Kanata.
There was nothing that had ever hurt more in all of his life.
Burning Passion (116) SinJa
Ja'far didn't know when this started. Or how in the first place. But somehow this was reality now. A smile spread along his face as he realized that, looking at the sleeping king's face next to him. He had worked a little longer than Sinbad this night – as every night – and the taller had fallen asleep on him, curled up in bed.
“Sleepyhead. And that's what they call a king,” he said softly, a smile on his face. One of the man's hands reached out, carefully stroking one of his boyfriend's thick purple strands out of his face, to have a better view. Suddenly Sinbad opened an eye.
“Enjoying the view, beautiful?”
Burning Heat (119) SouRinTori
A relationship like this was weird. Sousuke would have never thought that he'd agree to a constellation like this. Yet here he was, watching his boyfriend's make out on his bed. “Ai, let's give Sou a better show, hm?” he heard Rin ask lowly and watched as Ai leaned back to lie down, Rin crawling on top of him as they kissed, a kiss so heated, it made Sousuke's pants feel tight. Way too tight for his own liking.
“You two are devils...,” Sousuke mumbled, reaching down to open his pants the moment the smallest the three moaned out needily.
He would have never thought that he'd agree to this relationship, but he didn't mind. Not at all.
Burning Hatred (128) ViTri
He only looked at Aoba. At Aoba and at no one else. 'Biggest fan' my ass. Trip was angry. His allmate looked up at him, he shared his anger, as Trip remembered Virus talk to Aoba with a smile on his face. He rarely talked like that when the two of them were alone. Virus had started to go cold, completely cold toward his former best friend and Trip had found out why.
“It's your fault,” he growled, staring at the unconscious boy to his feet. “He doesn't love me because of you.” Tears of anger, sadness and hatred where threatening to fall as he finished the final move, stabbing a dagger right into the smaller's heart, watching the blood leaking out of the now lifeless body.
Burning Love (130) AoAka
It wasn't like either of them was one for cuddling and being sweet and lovey dovey. Nevertheless they were laying in bed after their sixth date, the smaller curled up against the taller's chest, strong arms wrapped around his upper body. It felt secure, safe, at home. He hadn't felt comfortable like this in years.
“Thinkin' of something?” he heard the taller male ask, voice deep and heavy with sleep. Others would most likely think that a couple like them was having sex a lot, but honestly, that wasn't the case at all. In fact, they were both still virgins.
“Just of how obscure this is,” he answered and got a low chuckle in return.
“Obscure but perfect, if you ask me.”
Yes, that was right. Perfect.
Burning Feelings (134) EreRi
No, Levi was not sick. He had just problems voicing his feelings. Especially if the one he liked was never alone. That stupid blond boy was always around Eren, there was no way to catch him alone. So Levi had decided to take drastic measures. He looked down at the cloth drained in chloroform, taking a deep breath as he broke into the student's dorms. It was night, so everyone was sleeping but Levi had found out, that Eren needed to pee almost every night, so he waited
When the door opened at the tired boy left the room, the teacher pressed the cloth against his mouth and pulled him with him. It was a good thing, that he trained daily.
Now he could tell him his feelings. Or maybe have some fun first...
Burning Sweetness (140) MuraHimu
Himuro knew, sweets meant life and happiness. At lest to his boyfriend, so it was clear how the trip around the Christmas market would end: Food. Food everywhere. He loved the taller, with all his heart but this was a little exhausting. Murasakibara denied every attempt of Himuro to get on some rides. Himuro sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he loved the other so much.
“Hey, Ats- Atsushi?” he hadn't noticed that the tall boy left without telling him. The black haired boy turned around himself, trying to spot the purple hair that belonged to his boyfriend. A boy taller than 2meters couldn't just go missing!
“Murochin, I'm here.”
And indeed, there he was. A huge gingerbread heart in his hands with the words “My Prince, My Love” on it. Himuro smiled.
Right, that's why he loved him.
Burning Fate (142) TachMi
Handsome. That was the first word that came to Kisumi's mind when he saw the tall male standing in front of the cafe. Later they were walking home, side by side and maybe a little drunk, Kisumi wearing Tsukitachi's top hat, Tsukitachi helping Kisumi walk. Both of them would have never thought that a blind date could go this well.
The taller opened the door to his home, letting them inside. Neither of them liked one night stands, but they were drunk and things were developing a little too fast.
“Kiss me,” the pink haired boy heard Tsukitachi say, even though he wasn't sure if he was calling his name or asking for a kiss. He didn't care.
And now? Now they were a couple for two months and madly in love, never once having regretted agreeing to a blind date.
**Author's Note:**
> My very first attempt in writing drabbles. I know some of them are too long for "actual" drabbles a they are supposed to have 100 words but that's hard XD
> I hope some people might like them :3 comments and kudos are loved~ | d188c266e8844ce5832c3438fd5df075 | ['964506be4ab2495e91a6e1a21af67942'] | The next weeks went by without any noticeable events. Jimin introduced Junhoe to Jungkook and his friends and they spent some of their free time together, sometimes even with Yoongi, most of the time without Jinhwan and Yoongi though, as they needed to actually study. Jimin became pretty good friends with Donghyuk, the boy sometimes reminded him of Taehyung. The three of them often spend time together in Hogsmeade or by the lake, most of the time together with Jungkook.
“We just need a Gryffindor and our group would be perfect,” Jimin stated one day when he, Donghyuk, Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok and Chanwoo were sitting near the lake.
“Jinhwan’s best friend is a Gryffindor. And I think Yoongi is friends with one of them, too,” Donghyuk said without even looking up. He was playing with a Niffler he had befriended.
‘Good friends’ was a pretty big understatement, but Jimin decided not to say anything regarding that matter.
“But they’re not part of the group! I’m not even sure if Jinhwan and Yoongi are, they are too busy studying to join our monthly picnic! It’s gonna be too cold for that, soon,” Taehyung complained. Jimin knew, he wasn’t really complaining though. Yoongi and him tended to have difficulties getting along, though Jimin was sure that the older liked Taehyung. Deep down.
“We can’t just go, take a Gryffindor and pull them into this weird circle of friends. That would be a new level of strange, even for you guys,” Chanwoo said. He had somehow become part of the ‘gang’ as Taehyung liked to call them, mostly because Taehyung had been told to look after him more and more and because Chanwoo started to develop a liking for Jinhwan.
“That’s true. Then again, I wasn’t asked either, Tae just kinda pulled me in,” Jungkook added with a small grin, getting an irritated “Hey!” from Taehyung and a laugh out of Chanwoo.
“Either way, this was fun, but I need to get to practice or Junhoe will kill me. See you.” With that Chanwoo got up and left.
“I gotta go find a Gryffindor!” Taehyung announced. “And you will help me,” he added while grabbing Donghyuk’s arm, pulling him up. The Niffler made a squeaking sound and disappeared when Donghyuk was being pulled away from it.
“Wait- you can’t-!” Hoseok tried to stop them, he really did, but they didn’t listen. So he jumped up and chased after the two of them, laughing.
Jimin looked at Jungkook. They were alone now and suddenly it hit Jimin, that they have never been alone. He had spent time with Donghyuk alone and sometimes even with Jinhwan, but never had he been on his own with Jungkook. During the past weeks Jimin had gotten quite good at ignoring the funny feeling in his stomach and keeping himself from staring at the younger. But now that they were alone, he was reminded of everything again.
Jungkook was stretched across the blanket on his back, arms crossed behind his head, watching the clouds. He looked soft, younger than normally, his dark brown hair a mess, his robes slightly dislocated. Jimin traced his features with his eyes, the way his nose curved, his jawline, his cheekbones, those soft looking lips…
“And here I thought you didn’t like me, but unless you’re trying to kill me with that soft gaze, I was mistaken,” Jungkook said suddenly, looking over at Jimin with an amused smile.
Jimin felt the heat rise in his face.
“Why would you think I don’t like you?” he asked, his voice thin. He was embarrassed and he knew Jungkook could tell.
“Well, for starters you don’t talk to me unless I reply to stuff you ask the group. You avoid looking at me. You even tend to pretend you didn’t see me when we pass each other in the halls. We have never done anything alone together. I thought it was simply because you get along with the louder, talkative guys better, but I’ve met Yoongi and you two are best friends,” Jungkook explained after sitting up and looking at Jimin.
“Ah… Did I? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” – A lie. “But I didn’t really know what to say to you… You seem kinda mysterious.” – Half of the truth at least.
“Mysterious?” Jungkook laughed. “Just ask whatever. I won’t bite.”
Jimin thought about it. This was his chance. He wasn’t sure what kind of chance and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but he needed to take it.
“Well… Do you have siblings?” Jimin started. He wanted to ask about Korea. Sure, Taehyung was born there, but he hadn’t been there since he was eleven and Jimin himself had never seen it. So he decided to start simple.
“I do. An older brother. He is a teacher in Busan. What about you?” Jungkook replied, looking at Jimin curiously.
“I don’t. Why is he not here with you?” Jimin was slightly afraid that he overstepped a boundary by the way Jungkook’s gaze dropped.
“He is teaching. The children love him,” Jungkook replied with a soft smile.
“I’ve never been to Korea before. Were you born there?” Finally, he could ask about it. The opportunity was there.
Jungkook nodded.
“I was. It is nice there, less rain than here. A lot more people. But it was for the better to move here. My dad finally found a job,” Jungkook replied with a sigh and the moment he saw Jimin’s confused look, he continued talking. |
6cc6866fe88646eb83a4d407fe31f103 | ['96901d7bad384e03938bf726df68c57e'] | ''' _Hurry up, fuck ! It's becoming boring as fuck. Make your choice, either you choose this or that. Hoyt Volker' sister... Let me laugh. You ain't a gangster. You ain't a future scary criminal or drug queen . You're just a poor little crying baby always hiding behind your brother's legs.BE A FUCKING VOLKER FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE. I don't care if you are fifteen. When I was fifteen I had already eaten a human's heart I ripped off myself_. ''
He already did that. He already forced her to do things she didn't want to do. He told her it was what they were supposed to do.
( _**That's what we are supposed to do, Vaas !**_ )
She was taught to hunt, to skin animals, to fight -or to be beaten would be more accurate- and to drink like a man. Those things, she hadn't really want but she still did. First for her, second to prove to her brother she could be useful and strong and third to shut Vaas' mouth. Her fingers brushed many tools for two long minutes before she made her choice. She took a deep breath and, finally, she had her heart set on a wooden baseball bat covered in barbed wires. She firmly grabbed the handle and, all of sudden, her face hardened with determination. As she came near the hostage who was looking at her with despair, she swung her baseball bat and began to turn around him like a hungry feline with its prey. Her inhuman eyes were empty. Two gaping crevices staring at an unknown and unlucky man trapped in Hell. Rex finally stopped before him.
'' _Twinkle twinkle little brat, I will hit you with a bat._ '' She sang, without the single smile.
The fifteen-years-old girl brushed one of the hostage's legs with the wood of her weapon. The man shivered and let some muzzled complains and suppliques against his gag made of fabric but it seemed Rex wasn't listen to him. Behind her, Vaas was hasty, he could barely remain calm. He wanted her to hit. To hit as hard as she could hit. He wanted to see the little girl who find him on the beach becoming a cold-blooded murderer. He wanted her to be like him for an unknown and gloomy reason blurred by all the drugs he took. He nervously played with the bloody bandages around his fingers while his green and piercing eyes didn't blink at all.
'' _Up above your head so high, I will hit you 'til you die._ '' Rex frowned and raised her baseball bat. Her heart was beating faster and faster. She was trying to separate the hostage from his human nature to make it easier.
Volker Jr closed her eyes, her hands shaking few seconds in the sky before the wooden weapon falls on the hostage's left leg with the violence of a guillotine blade. A horrifying sound of cracked bones echoed in the camp, quickly followed with painful screams and insults. Between cries and incomprehensible blabblerings, the hostage tried to struggle against the chains that were firmy tied up around his wrists and ankles. The teenage girl bit his lips and looked away, the metallic smell of blood gave her nauseas but she couldn't give up. Especially in front of Vaas. Rex tightened her grip around the bat and forced herself to hit the hostage again and gain. One blow to break the other leg, one blow to break the ribs bones and a last one to destroy an arm. She finally dropped the bloody baseball bat and hugged herself with her own arms as if the temperature suddenly tumbled.
'' _Done. Are you happy now, fucker ?_ '' She whispered, avoiding to look at the hostage.
The Pirate's King raised an eyebrow, the sound of the man's cries similar to an usual ambient music. Actually, Vaas surprised himself by trying to remember the first time he torture someone during a quick and sudden lightning of lucidity . Torturing, not killing. Taking someone's life with a knife or with bare hands was one of the first and most important Rakyat's traditions thus he began to do this pretty early in his life. When he was fifteen, just like her right now, he had already killed several times. Animals and human beings. One of the only things he kept in mind for years was the incredible feeling of pride which had burst in his chest while he was standing in front of the tribe, the beating heart of his adversary still between his hands. The second one was his sister's gaze staring at him. She looked so proud of him. She looked at him as if he was her god, as if there was him, only him, and how, how he had liked it! Vaas shook his head and crossed his arms.
His green eyes peering at the young black-haired girl who was in front of him. He slipped a sharp knife in the palm of her hand and he answered to her silent question as she almost hissed at him.
" **Kill him.** "
Vaas smirked, staring at the young girl covered with fresh blood. She was shaking as hell, little and salty tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn't. She fuckin' couldn't kill that man. The pirate's smile disappeared as he grabbed violently Rex's wrist, losing his calm and patience. Hoyt's sister closed her eyes and tried to fight against her mentor's grip.
'' _No ! I'm done ! I'm leaving your goddamn compound, hijo de puta._ ''
'' _I said kill him, Hermosa !_ '' He continued.
_"I can't! Let me go Vaas! Let me go, you fucker!_ " She yelled.
" _I ain't letting you go, Bambi-bitch-girl. C'mon, kill him Hermosa! KILL HIM, FUCK. What are you? A pussy, huh?! Kill him or I'll take the knife and I'll shove it right in your cocksucker's mouth !_ " | 5c12a375f2e14436852e843b0fd57f0d | ['96901d7bad384e03938bf726df68c57e'] | _**My father.. Rest his sole.. Was a diamond minor.. Got up at sunset, smoked a cigarette, and down into the earth he went... For that wonderful .. Wonderful man.. - Hoyt Volker** _
**Johannesburg, South Africa.**
**(12 years ago)**
"Rex? Rex!"
A boy's voice was calling her. She wanted to answer or at least look at him but all she could do was sobbing. The little girl's body was reduced to a heap of pain. Huddled on the cold and blood soaked sheets of her bed, she was hugging her own legs against her chest. Salty tears had drawn wet furrows on her red cheeks. Her legs and arms were covered in purple and black bruises as her back filled with a myriad of bloody strokes certainly made with a leather belt. Rex put her hands against her head, she felt something buzzing inside her brain. She wanted to yell again and again until everything around her has vanished. Until she wasn't in this dark room anymore but she knew it would be useless. Suddenly, a manly hand slightly grabbed one of her wrist. Rex jumped, ready to bite and scratch like a wild animal but the fierce look on her face disappeared as she saw who was in front of her.
" _Hey katjie... Calm down, it's me._ "
The twenty eight man with black hair and green eyes smiled at her with the most comforting grin he could offer. However his smile did not stay long on his face. Hoyt sighed and took a look on his little sister's body to check the wounds. She was only eight but unfortunately he knew she already saw things a kid shouldn't. It also had been the case for him but he couldn't do anything. Not yet. Cobus Volker was one of the most important diamond miners of South Africa and his company was one of the most successful and fruitful at this time. Cobus was a well known man and that simple fact made him safe from all judiciary threats. Yet, Cobus Volker was also an abusive and violent asshole who was not able to show any compassion since his wife's death. Not even with his own children. At the beginning, their father was only yelling at them and slapping them without reason but life was still bearable and then...
Then things got worst as time passed. Fortunately Rex always avoided being raped by their monstrous father because Hoyt had taken her place each time Cobus wanted to satisfy his needs.
" _It's alright. Everything is alright, I'm here. Don't cry please._ "
Hoyt wrapped the little girl with his bruised arms and soothed her.
" _Moenie huil nie_."
He repeated his last sentence in a soft and comforting dutch. His nose was broken, his whole body was in pain and he has a black eye but he did not care. That wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was Rex. The child slowly stopped crying. She wipped her tears clumsily and opened her dry mouth.
" _Hoyt? You came back? Tell me you're not leaving. Please, Hoyt..._ "
She said with a voice made hoarse by sobs and screams. She strokes her brother's cheek with one of her tiny and cold hands. Hoyt felt a incredible sadness when his gaze met Rex's eyes which were glowing with new tears. He never wanted to flee from their house but he had to do it. He had to do it because he was secretly building piece by piece the thing that will help them to run away from their father and from this fucking country. Though, this thing was eating his time. The only moments he had, he was spending them with Cobus. Sleeping with him to spare Rex from this torture but soon years and years of horror will be over.
Soon...
Very, very soon...
Hoyt kissed his sister's fingers and whispered.
" _I'm not leaving anymore, Rex. I promise. But you need to be strong just for a few weeks alright?_ ''
'' _Alright_."
She said after a little silence.
" _Great. Now take off you t shirt, I need to see your wounds. I'll clear them and you'll rest. As I said, I'm not leaving I'll be here when you wake up. Vinniger, katjie! Or I will be force to use my secret method : Tickle!_ "
He said, raising an eyebrow. The little girl nodded and, finally, she got up from her brother's lap to take off her black t-shirt to reveal her body. The pale and silky skin of her back was streaked with whiplash injuries and half dried blood all over her. Hoyt ordered her to stay still and went to the bathroom to take a towel, wounds disinfectant, water, cotton and bandages. When he came back in the bedroom, he couldn't help staring at his sister with a grin on his lips when he heard her singing a song.
" _Slaap kindje slaap, daar buiten loopt een schaap.._."
She was singing, playing with one of the numerous wristlets she had. It was almost a whisper, as if she was scared that their dad hear them. It was probably the case.Hoyt sat behind her and cleared the blood with the towel he soaked in water. He watched the towel as the blood began to dye it and his own hands with a reddish color. He felt his heart tightened in his chest. The blood... It was a constant reminder of his inability to protect his little sister from the Monster. Hoyt made a silent promise to himself : He promise that next time blood would flow, it would not be his or it would not be his sister.
Once he had completely wash her back, he took pieces of cotton, drenched them with disinfectant and carefully pat Rex's wounds. |
57c874717535498eacd94c1f4ac942f0 | ['96f3b9c24d114fb9b4938c4be93cfef5'] |
We belong together
**Author's Note:**
> I do not own Batman, sadly *crying our in tears*
>
> But anyway English is not my naturally language, so i apologize for grammer mistakes.
Bruce barely felt nervous in his life. After all he was the Batman. He could handel anything anybody throws in his way. And he was yet to meet someone he couldn't take down.
But now? Now he was nervous. He actually felt like throwing up.
Feelings are something he hated to deal with.
However here he was, standing in his building in the middle of the night, dressed with his most expensive suit, holding red perfect roses in his hands.
He sighed to himself, trying not to think about how ridiculous it was.
Here he was about to give Red hood flowers and confess his undying love for him.
Except, Jason already knew about the dark knight love for him. They already kissed and had sex in the past, in their weird love hate relationship.
But he wanted to take it to the next level.
No more running around. He is going to either be in a romantic relationship or to return to normal father/son relationship with him.
He was so deep in this thought he almost jumped at the small sounds of laughter behind him.
He turned around to the very source of his thoughts. The person he already lost one to death and many others times to arguments.
Jason stood there, laughing at him, wearing pair of jeans and a white shirt coverd by a black leather jacket, no sigh to his red helmet.
He looked gorgeous. As always. He shouldn't be surprised. Jason was just naturally beautiful. His black hair was messy and there was slightly unique white curls in it. His eyes were the brightest blue he had ever seen.
He fought the urge to just take him there and now, instead he just stared at him.
His heart almost feel to the floor, and suddenly he couldn't get a word out of his mouth.
Jason scanned the situation for a second, looking at the red flowers and laughed again. "Are these for me, Brucie dear? and here I was thinking that you called me here to break things up with me." He sounded emotionless, like he was trying to hide his feeling from his own voice.
Bruce shock his head, "Never, Jay."
Jason stared at him and went closer. "so it does mean something for you," he noted.
"Of course it means something for me, Jay, it means everything to me." He said, taking a step towards him.
Jason smiled softly and lowered his gaze to the ground. Bruce took advantage of that and stepped closer to cup Jason's face in his hand.
He stroked the soft skin of his cheeks and raised it so he could meet his bright blue eyes. "I...I want us to make it official," he admitted.
Jason looked up to him, curious, "You want for us to be a couple?"
Bruce nodded.
"But... How are we going to tell the others? To Dick, and Tim. And Damia-"
Bruce cut him off by a sudden kiss, and Jason leaned into him putting one hand upon Bruce's chest and the other he wrapped around his neck.
Their toungs explored each other mouths, and they moaned against each other. When Bruce tried to separate their mouths Jason bit his lowered lip between his teeth before released it.
He took a step back from his lower and handed him the flowers, blushing red.
Jason took it in his hands, lift it up to inhale it's scent before suddenly throw it off the way and attacked Bruce with another passionate kiss.
His lover kissed him back, feeling the same need as his lover felt.
Jason made a first move to take off the black/ white suit he was wearing and before they knew it clothes were being thrown off the way.
It's perfect, the billionaire , thought. Jay had his arms around his strong neck and his own hands were around his waist, pushing the young man closer to him.
As the former Robin started to stroke the other's back he felt Bruce's naked cock comes to life under them, he smirked at the sight before pushing Bruce onto a black, leathered armchair that was pressed to the glass wall of the billionaire's office.
The prince of gotham watched as the younger man kneel next to him and started to lick his big cock.
He gasped as he felt the cock being swallowed by Jason's mouth. The revive young man took the whole cock , felt it pressed inside his throat, before he started to stroke it with his tongue.
Bruce throwed his head back in enjoyment. "God, Jay!"
He begun to thrust into Jason's mouth, and the younger man took it very well, sucking the big cock in his mouth.
The dark knight leaned down and slide his hands down to Jason's ass, pressing his fingers to the tiny hole, stroking it gently as he heard the small whimpers that Jason made as he sucked his cock.
He grabbed Jason's legs from the ground and flipped him over. He spreaded the younger's legs and placed one on each of his shoulder as he was grinning at the young man's ass that was now only inches afar from his face.
Jason continued in the blowjob from his new upside down position.
Bruce stroked the pretty ass that was held in front of him and reached out for a bottle of lube next to the armchair he was sitting on.
Quickly he poured a little amount of gel on his hands before smearing it on his cock . He smered it nice and good before pressed one finger into Jason's tiny hole.
Almost immediately he heard the ex Robin moaning against his cock. | 5d86a75d38a84e6cba10842cd28f43fc | ['96f3b9c24d114fb9b4938c4be93cfef5'] | Smiling he puts another finger inside him. Than another. And another. When he had four fingers inside the other's ass he thrust it in and out for a few times, enjoying the sounds of Jason muffed screams of passion. He kissed the tiny hole, "I think you're ready, baby."
Gently he grabbed the small waist in front of him, flipped Jason's body back down and laid the flexible young man on his lap.
Jason wrapped his legs around his back and pushed himself closer to the older man.
Bruce kissed him and let his arms be wrapped around Jason waist. "I fucking love you, baby. Are you ready?"
He nodded enthusiastically, "Do me already, Bruce."
The older nodded, slide his hands under Jason and carried him into a long, black, leathered sofa.
He let himself to laid on it first than put Jason on top of him. His dick wad standing proud and high between them.
Jason laid each leg in the other side of Bruce and than let himself be impaled by the huge cock. He moaned loudly as he started the dance himself on the hard cock.
Bruce groaned in pleasure and started to thrust into Jason who screamed on top of him.
His arms found Jason ass and he dug into the soft skin as he danced on him.
Jason smiled at him and leand in for a kiss which was gladly return.
The knight thrust harder into him and Jason screamed as he felt the cock touch his prostate, "Oh god!"
Bruce thrust harder and the young man kept demanding him to make it harder.
After a few minutes of passion a good idea was building itself in his head.
"Jay, I want to try something, okey?" He asked his voice low. The younger nodded and stopped the movement.
Bruce wrapped each hand around Jason's thighs , than lifted him up, cock still deep up in his ass hole.
Jason immediately wrapped his arms around his strong neck to prevent him from falling.
Bruce arms were wrapped tight around his thights and without wasting time he started to bounce Jason up and down on his cock while he was lifted up.
The younger rested his head on Bruce's shoulder, whimpered as he was bounce up in bruce arms on his huge cock.
The knight eventually bounced Jason stronger and faster as Jason screamed both in pleasure and pain.
"Come on baby, jump on my cock like a good boy," Jason did as he was told and bounce himself on Bruce
This is the first time Bruce experience carry- sex and he absolutely adored it. He kissed Jason's mouth and fucked him in the same time.
Two minutes while fucking Jason in the air he felt his cock leaking inside Jason's body and he let the semen leak into the younger body in his arms.
He smiled as the excitement filled in and he pressed a soft kiss into Jason's cheek. "Do you like it, Babe?"
He felt Jason nodded into his shoulder, so he lunged into him the hardest he could. The younger throwed his his back and screamed as he urged the knight to bounced the hot hard cock back into him.
He moaned as the cock hit his prostate over and over again.
Bruce carried his foster son until Jason felt the wall hit his back.
"I'm going flip you around, baby, so I cam fuck you while you suck me," he said to him, and before Jason knew it he was upside down again, his knees were held by Bruce on his shoulder so his face were in front of the huge cock that was inside him a second ago. He took it in his arms and start to suck it, feeling the orgasm floating into his mouth. He swallowed it and kept sucking.
Bruce pounded into Jason mouth while each of his arms were holding each of the younger man's legs on his shoulder. He pound harder than he ever had into the his wet mouth.
Jason moaned into his coke as the Dark knight pound into him him over and over again.
The billionaire thrust into Jason with all his force, moaning and whispering Compliments to him, "You're incredible baby!"
After awhile Bruce flipped him back up into his arms, setting him once again on his red standing cock, bouncing him up and down on his cock. Jason was already tired from all the bouncing so he let his head rest on Bruce's chest and closed his eyes, enjoying the rhythm of the cock enters him.
Bruce bounced him hard and strong up his dick while kissing the head that rested on his breast.
"Ah! Ooohh..." The young man moaned against him.
Eventually noticing Jason weary form he carried him to the armchair, his long dick still inside him. And sat himself and Jason on top of his cock.
Jason leaned further to him but Bruce held him there, "Stay there, Babe..." he whispers to him, need to feel himself inside Jason for a little longer.
He thrust into his lover body a few times before pulling his cock off him and kissed his hair.
They stayed like that for a few moments, resting in each other arms before Jason rose from Bruce's lap, and walked with difficulty to the pile of his clothes. "Damn," he whispered, "You fucked me hard." He couldn't prevent the satisfied smile was shot at Bruce. "You were never that eager before. I don't think I will be able to walk normally for days."
The dark knight grinned softly at him before following and hug him from behind,"I'm sorry, Baby."
Jason turned around, and Bruce stared at their two cocks leaking together. "Don't be," Jayson said, "It was the best sex I've ever had." he grinned at him.
Bruce grabbed Jason's waist , lifted him up and kissed him hard while spinning him around. "Mine also, baby. You're incredible."
They both laughed, Bruce kissed him one more time before buried himself in the other's hair. "I love you, baby."
Jason wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his head in his shoulder, "I love you too."
**Author's Note:**
> Please leave a comment!
>
> Bth, I'm a true fan of superbat but I really love JayBat too...
>
> It's my first fanfic in this site and very first sex scene fanfic. So please jave mercy on me ☺ |
8defe15c56374f5e899228a05267cabe | ['96fd8f22a8364a809df8ee32f4f95f94'] | Long Haul’s optics crinkled in mischief and he faux-growled as he crawled over to Scavenger.
Scavenger hummed and squealed and flopped onto his back on the floor, “Eeeeee!” he cried as Long Haul retracted his mask and administered several wet smooches onto his audial.
Hook cleared his vocalizer, impatient for his own turn.
Long Haul smirked over at him, gave Scavenger one last kiss, and retreated back to his spot. He took the dice, shook them in his servo—very careful not to crush them as it wasn’t likely Prowl would buy them a new pair so soon after they crushed the last four—then rolled them to the floor. “Mmmmm… Nuzzle Audial.”
Hook leaned over, slight embarrassment leaking over the bond, and nuzzles his nasal sensor over Long Haul’s audial. Long Haul quickly turned and gave the mech a little nip right on the tip of his nasal sensor. Hook huffed, but the glowing tint on his faceplates betrayed that he was pleased about the whole thing.
He shook himself, plucked the dice from the floor and rolled them immediately. He sputtered loudly. Across from him, Bonecrusher mildly intoned, “Suck… Servos.”
He looked at Hook. Hook could _feel_ the grin slowly forming behind Bonecrusher’s mask.
”Wha—I—“ Hook blubbered, anticipation flashing across the bond, his faceplates burning.
”Bonecrusher lunged, catching the medic by the arms and drawing him up. He spared a moment to admire Hook’s clever servos—felt a flash of pride not his own. He retracted his mask and stuck all eight primary digits into his intake and gave a firm suck.
”Gah!” Hook exclaimed, fans clicking on and whirring violently.
Bonecrusher laughed around the digits, then choked and sputtered.
Scavenger fell over again in laughter as Bonecrusher backed off, gasping and hacking.
Hook trembled sheepishly, over-riding his fans and crossing his arms in a huff.
Prowl smiled as Bonecrusher regained his bearings and picked up the dice.
His turn.
32. Missing
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Prowl, a Praxian Academy mech, is abducted and ransomed, but he has some harsh truths for the perpetrators…
”Well now what?”
”Now nothing—we wait.”
”We’ve been waiting! For the better half of an orn! Let’s comm. again and get a statement!”
”Shut yer yap, motor-mouth! We’re tryin’ ta stay inconspicuous-like and we can’t do that if yer yellin’ up the whole pit-slagged neighborhood!” Shuffle, shuffle. “… Bring the kid over ‘ere, we’ll leave ‘em with one more message…”
Prowl’s ventilations were calm and collected. His captors had cut off his visual cortex after retrieving him—they likely had some sort of surgeon with them, that, or a slum-side organ-larcenist. He rather hoped it was the former.
However, he couldn’t quite help the stutter of his ventilation as he felt the chair he was strapped to being dragged back across the room. By the sad creaky protests of the chair back and the heavy groans of the metal floor paneling every step, Prowl could only guess at how large his botnappers were.
Finally, the chair settled—presumably in front of a hud-cam.
The mechs had been recording him and growling about a ransom. Speaking of which, “I don’t have creators,” Prowl rasped.
The busy noises stopped abruptly.
”… What?”
Prowl wetted his derma nervously, “I don’t have creators. Or guardians… Or friends. There’s no one who will pay you for my safe return. Not that you were ever likely to succeed in the first place, of course.”
A heavy pedstep, “Excuse me?”
”Statistically, more ransom cases than not end with the perpetrators caught and put in their proper place.”
”Proper place meaning…?”
”… Behind bars.”
The next instant, Prowl heard and felt the door to the room get kicked in. A hoard of mechs rushed into the room and the sweet, wonderful sound of his captors yelping and panicking floated through his audials.
”Servos down!”
”On the Ground!”
”Pur your servos behind your helm! We will use lethal force if required!”
Ah. Beautiful.
The bonds around him were gradually loosened as the mechs were subdued. A gentle servo on his arm helped him stand and guide him. As the officer led him away, he called out, “Oh, and next time you decide to botnap someone, you ought to make sure they aren’t training under the local police force.
The feeling of shocked optics following his back was almost worth the trouble. A slow smirk slid across his face as he was lead out of the building.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I do not condone kidnapping, especially not the kidnapping of cops-in-training...
33. A Spider In The Tub
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> “Prowl! There’s a spider in the wash racks!” “Really, Scavenger? It’s an organic insect, it can’t do you any harm—oh. Hello, Mesothulas.”
Prowl didn’t bother edging into his habsuite anymore.
He’d foolishly attempted to keep himself and the constructicons separate, but it was a useless—and painful—endeavor. The gestalt bond was taxing in a way usually only experienced when Starscream started talking—or existing at all—during meetings. It was impossible to fight, fatal to remove, and actually rather functional at times. Thus, Prowl reluctantly allowed the other mechs close.
They first stepped around ammunition shells with him, then grew bolder as the orns passed.
It was no longer a surprise to see them sprawled across his berth, his couch, or his work desk—as much as he told them off for the last one.
Prowl was just getting ready to settle down at the aforementioned desk when he heard a shriek from a few paces over. Frantic pedesteps heralded Scavenger, visor bright and faceplates tense as he half-squealed, “Prowl! There’s a spider in the wash racks!”
He then proceeded to start bawling. | 2d91d56caace48c49a1db2d63b273dcb | ['96fd8f22a8364a809df8ee32f4f95f94'] | The new mech dug his digits into Prowl’s chevron.
Oh. Perhaps—
He lurched forward, the mech had hauled him upright by his chevron. He was shaken insistently, “My gestalt—how are you involved!?”
Prowl squinted his optics at the mech, but he still couldn’t see worth slag.
“You took them. You did something to them—I don’t know yet what it was, but you _will_ tell me!” the mech accused, and then Prowl felt a strange feeling.
His chest felt heavy again, but he wasn’t laying down, what—he flinched. There was something… Something else on his spark. It lashed against him angrily, and he panicked, latching his denta onto the other mech’s shoulder guard and wrenching as hard as he could.
The pressure let up from his spark, but servos yanked roughly at his flared plating. Prowl kicked out at his attacker, snarling and leaving deep scratches where his claws and derma tore at the other mech—whoever this was, they’d regret messing with Prowl.
* * *
Hook sprang up just a nano-kilk before the others did, and he raced out of their habsuite and down the hall.
Behind him, Long Haul was chanting, “Oh frag, oh frag, oh frag, oh frag,” likely coming to the same conclusion Hook had: Scrapper was confronting Prowl.
The Constructicons were no Autobot sympathizers—anything but!—however, Prowl was unique. During their forced merge, they had seen things in prowl’s processors that would haunt them—beatings from a cruel higher-in-command, dire rations, Autobot rehabilitation.
No one paused through the shiver.
Mixmaster managed to pull ahead, smashing the open-code into the medbay lock, and their charged into a startling scene.
Prowl and Scrapper were on the cot, clawing, kicking and biting. The Constructicons weren’t sure whether the two were trying to pull away or get closer to each other…
* * *
The moment Scrapper noticed his gestalt had entered the room, he flew off the Autobot, “This—it’s not—“
Hook herded Scrapper towards the others before checking up on the Autobot, who immediately calmed down, his claws sheathing as he reached for Hook.
Scrapper looked on in amazement as the medic worked on the savage mech. Scavenger pressed against him, “Scrapper, are you okay?”
“Yes,” he assured quickly, “Everything is fine. I was just talking to the Autobot—“
“Our gestalt-mate!” Scavenger tutted at him. Scrapper stared. “I know you hate hearing this, but there’s nothing we can do—he’s part of our sparks now. We know you can feel him.”
Scrapper deflated at the huff, but didn’t want to let go of his point, “Look, Scavenger—“
“We know it ain’t fair, “ Bonecrusher lumbered by. “But there ain’t nothin’ we can do now ‘cept make it easier on all a’ us by getting’ along as best we can. This little heap a’ slag, “his visor cut over to the Autobot, sitting up on the cot with a servo resting on Hook’s shoulder pauldron, “Is with us whether we want him or not.”
It wasn’t often than Bonecrusher spoke as the vocalizer of wisdom, but it certainly made Scrapper see his way. He sighed duly, begrudgingly admitting to himself that he’d acted irresponsibly.
Starscream chose that moment to walk in.
* * *
Things well and truly de-escalated from there.
Starscream went on to sort out their situation for them. He informed them that they’d have to handle Prowl themselves, lest High Command had to get involved. Scavenger forced Scrapper and Prowl to smooth things over—namely, by bawling and asking if they loved him—which, they did, so they complied.
Things were rough and ragged. They went slowly, and they circled each other more often than not. However, it was difficult for them to stay distant when movie-night scared them into their gestalt’s arms. Scrapper was just glad there was someone else who was as horrified with organic monsters as he was—even if it was an Autobot… Ex-Autobot.
Scrapper locked himself back into reality. His gestalt was still in a messy pile at the center of the room. He stood only a step away.
Prowl. Scrapper pet at the white plating, and a fanged grin poked out at him from the cover of green and purple plates and treads. Prowl languidly crawled out of the pile, everyone was careful to avoid knocking his doorwings so he got out fairly easily.
Long Haul, still laughing, smacked a servo against the ex-bot’s aft as he passed, and Bonecrusher made sure to rest more of his weight onto the other combiner.
Something in Scrapper’s chest eased as he watched their laugh.
It was nice.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Bots being violent towards each other, nothing too terrible
23. Too Tiny
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Prowl is shrunk…
“Aww!” Scavenger cooed, a small form huddling in his cupped servos. The other Constructicons gathered around, their visors bright with mischief and relief.
“He’ll be back to normal within the next decaorn,” Brainstorm chirped. “I’ll have a prototype up and running within the orn! The rest is _fine tuning_!”
He waved as he backed out of the door, already lost in thought, and the ex-cons grinned down at their foreman.
Long Haul was the first to reach out. Prowl’s suspicious glare zeroed in on Long Haul’s servo, kicking out when it came too close. It bypassed his tiny defensive barrage to poke at Prowl’s malleable midsection. Long Haul chuckled.
Prowl bared his denta in frustration, his pede shooing out to force the intrusive touch away. Long Haul kept his servo passive, allowing Prowl to wear himself out before moving again. This time, his servos stroked over the tactician, smoothing over his plating. Prowl didn’t push him away.
Hook was next, using a nearly imperceptible motion to rub at Prowl’s chevron.
Long Haul’s shoulders relaxed as he felt Prowl’s frame purr under their servos. Adorable. |
05a83d03f35c4247bc7c62821d1f8077 | ['97054036d93f492883094fb27b0ba921'] |
Midnight
**Author's Note:**
> just some fluffy smut for the ship that makes me soft
Mituna shifts beside you on the pile of game cartridges and skateboards you lie on, tucked closely to your side. His arm is draped over your stomach and his steady breaths warm your neck; he’s purring ever so softly. You trail an ungloved hand up underneath the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing, one of yours you lent him a few weeks ago that he insists on keeping, and brush the knots of his spine.
The electronic buzz that once radiated from his skin has been missing since the accident but you still get goosebumps when you touch him. He still smells the same, though, which does more to calm you down than his words or paps ever do. It tells you he’s here, he’s safe and happy. Smell was the part of his accident that still clings to you after years of your ghostly existence, the burnt, metallic stench that overwhelmed his normal sweet scent. Or maybe you focus on that to avoid the memory of his limp body, bloody face, his screams when he woke up.
He seems to sense that your thoughts descending into darker territory and snuffles in his sleep, tightening his grip on you. You let out a quiet trill to settle him.
He'd insisted on a feelings jam after a run-in with Ampora earlier that day. Apparently, after another rejection from Peixes, the sea dweller had stumbled across Mituna and taken it out on your moirail yet again. You’d listened to his half coherent ranting with your usual patient smile and encouraging nods, silently promising to have a word with Ampora about just how sick you are of his behaviour. Though Mituna became less understandable the more worked up he became you didn’t mind; you were always happy to listen. Not that you could do much else.
After he had exhausted himself, you’d pulled him deeper into the pile for some well-earned papping. Even though he became distressed more often than before, it was easier to soothe him, if you knew how to. As good for Mituna as Latula was, she could be too rough and handsy for him to handle in one of his panicked states and could overwhelm him. Midbloods find it easy to forget how different they are from lowbloods, how much stronger they are. As a highblood, you were constantly aware. You had to be. It wouldn’t do to hurt your diamond.
Mituna’s breath suddenly catches, indicating that he’s waking up. You watch his eyes open slightly and try to adjust to the room’s darkness, his lowblood vision making it harder for him to see than for you. Humming faintly in greeting, you wait for him to gather himself. The tremors in his limbs resurge, his breathing comes out in irregular puffs, eyes flitting around the room as he grips your shirt subconsciously.
“Loth?” His voice is quieter than normal but still jolting in the room’s silence.
You bring the hand from around his waist up to the back of his neck and squeeze lightly, enough to tell him you’re there but careful not to startle him.
He turns his face towards you, white eyes meeting yours. “Tula feel- fell. Fell off her board. Ith she okay?”
It takes you a moment to register he’s talking about the dream he had.
You know his eyes will have adjusted enough to make out your hands in the dark but he’s lying on your arm and you prefer the intimacy that using your chucklevoodoos brings anyway.
_ “All is A-mother-fuckin’-okay, Tuna.”_
“Cool,” his instant trust in you makes your blood pusher soar. He flumps back to rest against you, twisting his legs with yours.
You wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t. There's enough time left in the day if you wanted to get some more shut-eye, not that you need it considering your ghostly status. You pull Mituna back against you and settle in for a few more hours of rest, expecting him to loosen up and do the same. Instead of relaxing in your hold, he becomes more agitated and wrigglier, fidgeting restlessly. You're not concerned until uncomfortable whines start rising from his throat. Unsure of what he's trying to communicate, you opt to wait it out and see if he'll pacify himself. It's not unusual for him to work himself into a frenzy but if he's wholly panicking you need to step in. His hand moves down in aborted jerking motions until he grabs at the flesh of your thigh, clenching and unclenching his fist. You don’t mind the strength of his grip or the pain it brings you.
_ “Is all well, mine own sweetest motherfucker?”_
He grumbles something, huffing and tearing at his own lips with his jagged teeth. Tentatively, you send your voodoos deeper. Sometimes he just can’t get the words out, it saves you both a lot of frustration if you help him along. If he notices you prodding around in his mind he doesn’t comment, remaining slack and unresistant to your search. You think your presence in his mind comforts him, even if it’s on a subconscious level.
It doesn’t take long to find what was bothering him.
The feeling manifests as a heat surging through his mind and you feel his ache as if it were your own. You slide your leg up until your thigh meets his crotch and he gasps in response. At first, he’s too startled by the relief to move, his body going taut and wide eyes searching yours until you press harder in encouragement.
"_You know I'm all kinds of qualified in pullin' those mystical strings in what up and make a bro feel good, so how's about you relax and get your blissful chill on? Take your pleasure, brother. _” | 7c23f289a9814d6eb75d816c20b130db | ['97054036d93f492883094fb27b0ba921'] | He whines desperately, head falling back and presenting his neck to you. The blatant sign of submission makes you smile wider, despite the warning tug of the thread that keeps your mouth shut. You’d bite him if you could, mark him as yours, trail your cold tongue over his skin until he shivers. But you can’t. His hips move with fervent incoordination, grinding harshly against the layers of clothes blocking him. You can feel the wetness of his nook already, even with his bulges just barely unsheathing, it’s soaking into your leggings and leaving yellow streaks where he rubs.
You consider letting him get off like this, watching him get more and more delirious, writhing against you until he spills warm, honeyed genetic material onto your lap. As delightful an image that is, you want to satisfy him completely. Besides, you love teasing that sweet nook with your fingers, hearing how he cries out and incoherently begs for more. Mostly, you ache to taste him. Licking his saccharine folds is one of the few things you miss since you removed your tongue.
“FUCK! Thtupid, shitty clown,” he shouts impatiently. “Need more, you worthleth fu-cking bulgejerk.”
Moving your hand to his head, you stroke his hair calmly and give him a few tender paps. You know he doesn’t mean it, that he can't help the putrid nonsense that spews out of his unconsenting lips.
_"Don’t be stressin’ thine own motherfuckin' self out so much, brother. We ain't in no rush here. How's a mirthful piece of shit like myself goin' to be pleasin' his palemate if he's got such a wretched squirm on?"_
“I’m thorry,” he mutters, the anger dissipating almost immediately.
You chirr at him to let him know you’re not angry. You could never be angry at him.
His hair covers a good chunk of his face and you're forced to brush it away to reach his flushed cheeks. He grumbles and shifts, insecure of the damage caused by his burnout, but allows you to do as you wish. You wonder if he's as complaisant with Pyrope as he is with you. If he lets her hold him close as you do or if he struggles and yowls from choking overstimulation. After a timeless eternity of practice within the dream bubbles, you know how to caress him just right in order to soothe him. How to keep his mind from panicking and body from shuddering. A slide of your hand on the right cheek and then the left, in that order specifically, mind how hard you're pressing down, make sure you're leaning away so he doesn't feel smothered. The tension in his body drains out quickly as you care for him, gentle and mindful of the scars by his eyes, until he’s left boneless and sleepy.
Once he’s placated, you reward him by adjusting yourself so you’re above him and helping him pull off his boxers. His hands slide against yours uselessly as he tries to help you, his mind still fuzzy from your affections. As much as he loves wearing his tight suit, you insist he needs to dress in loose clothes to let his skin breathe. Plus, it’s an excuse to put him in your clothes, which hang off him adorably and envelopes him in your scent.
He holds his legs tight together, on purpose or not you're not sure. While you wait for his muscles to loosen, you kiss his bruised knees and draw hallowed symbols on his skin with your fingertips. It takes a minute but he eventually relents enough to let you part his thighs and take a look at his blushed and dampened groin. His nook is already leaking. You push his legs up to his chest for a better view and you're rewarded with a gasp as his small hole flutters. Above his winking nook is his bulges, both tips just barely peeking out of his sheath.
_ “You’re already so wet, Tunabro. Were you enjoyin' a most blessed nocturnal emission durin' our motherfuckin' slumber?”_
He flushes beautifully, confirming your suspicions.
_ “Ain’t no shame in that, my brother,"_ you practically coo._"Can you up and be sharin' what happened with this curious motherfucker right here?”_
“No! Groth. You’re fucking groth,” he shakes his head forcefully. Despite his words, he thrusts his hips up towards you, trying to bring attention to his neglected emerging bulges. You thumb the tips and he shudders, garbling out an incomprehensible sound. When they've slipped out enough to hold you grip them loosely in one hand, letting them twine around your wrist and fingers.
_ “I ain't feelin' very obliging then,”_ you let him squirm in discomfort while you refuse to help relieve him.
His hips buck up into your slack hand despite the lack of pressure but his movements are uncoordinated and sharp, his bulges unsure of where to go to find what they want, so they twitch relentlessly against you. Tangling between your limp fingers, they wriggle around in search of a wet hole to sink into.
“Pleathe, fucking pleathe. Dumb, nookthniffing, worthleth fuck fucking -”
Your other hand shoots up to his cheek, which you pap quickly._ “Shoosh, my wicked diamond. We only got our play on, no need for all this tormented noise.”_
“I’m thorry.”
You smile and begin to stroke him properly, albeit slowly so as to not overwhelm him. His eye’s half close in pleasure and although you can’t see his pupils you know he’s staring at you. He’s slick enough that your hand moves easily over him, paying special attention to the sensitive split of his bulges, right at the base. A whine is forced out of him as you grasp him tighter and speed up your hand.
“You, you. You wath- were in me, your bulge. We k-kithed tho fucking pale and you uthed me like a bucket. Fucking. FILTHY.” |
63046fc25adf4f05820bd95e15cd65f9 | ['9709cba4cdf142568e1fc322137f43f0'] | Namjoon doesn’t have to wait because Jin stirs, couch rustling underneath him and his sleep swollen eyes flutter open. He looks confused for a second and fumbles to grab a pair of glasses that had slipped to the floor.
Once he slips them on he mumbles a sleep laden, “Namjoon?”
“Ah sorry…I guess I fell asleep and kept you here,” his hand goes to rub the back of his neck.
Jin shakes his head, he looks like a flustered mess. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie, his hair is standing up at awkward angles, and his cheeks are flushed from sleep. Namjoon could definitely get used to that sight.
“No it’s ok, you looked tired and I called Hoseok, but he said to keep you here. He said you’d been working for Black Friday? Sounds like a nightmare,” his voice is still raspy from sleep, it’s pleasant and thick, making Namjoon’s insides feel sticky and warm.
“Can I make it up to you?” Namjoon asks.
“W-what?” Jin sits up straight.
“Can I buy you breakfast?” Namjoon asks, ears burning at the tips.
“Breakfast?”
Namjoon nods, “Yeah…please tell me you like to eat.”
Jin nods slowly, “I love to eat.”
Namjoon chuckles, “Great, let’s go then!” He’s already standing and trying to brush the wrinkles out of his clothes as best he can.
“But let me put on my contacts first, I look like a mess right now!” Jin scrambles up, almost tripping over the table.
Namjoon steadies him, “It’s ok, you look great. Trust me.”
The way Jin flares up at the comment is a pleasing sight and Namjoon finds that all the crap he’s dealt with up until now has definitely been worth it, especially if it means he gets to spend time with Jin. | 556c1637562f45d48bacd598ba9413d9 | ['9709cba4cdf142568e1fc322137f43f0'] |
Keep Me Warm
**Author's Note:**
> Inspired by a prompt from the Fall Fic Exchange on Network Bangtan :) Enjoy!
He often wishes his weakness was food like Jin, who is endearingly gluttonous and utterly blissfully in the presence of aromatic, mouthwatering food. It could have been a deep love of sleep like Yoongi’s, who despite being an occasional insomniac, will indulge in sixteen hours of slumber if given the chance. Jungkook yearns for a simple weakness like those frilly girl group dances that Hoseok memorized by heart, unashamed in his fanboy display. Even Namjoon’s ridiculous obsession for fire truck red, canvas sneakers seems much easier to deal with, not mention to beneficial. He’s almost certain Converse is going to be hiring Namjoon as a spokesmodel for them in the near future with the way the young man fawns over the emblematic rubber soles and screen printed stars.
Jeon Jungkook isn’t that lucky though, he’s far from it. His weakness isn’t an object, something tangible that he can have at the drop of a hat. It is, yet isn’t because his weakness comes in the form of golden skin, slant almond eyes, and an ear splitting boxy grin. His weakness has a rich chocolaty voice that makes his insides feel like they’re quivering, slender arms he wishes to latch onto, and a low bubbling laugh that he wants to play on repeat.
His weakness is Kim Taehyung, his best friend.
With this in mind it is of no surprise that Jungkook easily gives in to the most far fetched plans that tumble from those pink lips. Like the time they filled Jungkook’s empty pool with plastic balls and turned it into a ball pit. Word to the wise, cement pools don’t make for good ball pits. Jungkook swore he was going to have to amputate a leg. There was also the time Taehyung turned eighteen, rented a bounce house, and managed to get his hands on his brother, Hoseok’s stash of alcohol.
At the moment it sounded like a good idea. Turns out it wasn’t because later Taehyung threw up all his birthday cake on Namjoon. Jin ended up taking care of them that night after arriving with a miffed Hoseok and Yoongi. Jungkook swore off cheap vodka for the rest of his life.
Last, but not least there was the time Taehyung suggested they dive into the snow in their underwear. Jungkook might’ve been a little inebriated when he agreed, also Jimin was teasing him so that just meant there was something to prove. Either way, he now recognizes that was a stupid thing to do, he thought he was surely going to lose his toes. It took several minutes of talking to Jin to calm him down before he realized his toes were still intact, he just needed to wriggle them around a little.
With Taehyung’s track record (Jungkook’s as well) it was only a matter of time before Taehyung proposed something farfetched once more.
He did, one day over pizza at his house.
“You want to what?” Jungkook choked around his mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.
“Camping! Come on, we always hang around here or downtown, wouldn’t it be cool to go out into the wilderness? Far away from everything, just us two,” Taehyung’s eyebrows waggle and Jungkook feels heat creep up the skin of his chest. Hoseok, who’s sitting on the kitchen counter with Namjoon notices this and smirks.
Jungkook’s pretty sure Hoseok is very aware of the not-so platonic feelings he has for Tae, but the elder does nothing to stop Taehyung’s affection, despite witnessing Jungkook’s suffering. Sometimes the bastard even encourages it by cooing over Jungkook’s cuteness, making Taehyung a little jealous and clingy.
“I’d rather not, I like it here where there are people to help in case something does happen,” Jungkook replies and takes another bite, dragging a string of gooey cheese with him.
“What could happen?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide and Jungkook really isn’t sure if he should answer that question.
Hoseok is the one that bursts out laughing though and Namjoon chuckles.
“Taehyung, I don’t think it’s a good idea…you two would probably get eaten by a bear,” Namjoon smirks and the action makes Taehyung pout.
“I agree, we need to make sure you two will be safe,” Hoseok replies, setting his own plate aside.
“But I was a boy scout! I know how to survive out there. Don’t you remember Hobi?” Taehyung glares at his older brother and Jungkook raises a brow. He doesn’t recall hearing any stories about Tae being a boy scout. He’s certain Tae would’ve bragged about it, thinking it was cute. Jungkook would think so too, but he’s not going to say that out loud, he’d never hear the end of it.
“A boy scout?” Hoseok asks as he moves to start clearing up their mess of pizza and paper plates. Namjoon doesn’t help much, just picks up his own things and tells Hoseok that he’ll be waiting so they can play video games.
“Yeah! I was in it for like two years, remember? You were even there when I got my first badge,” Taehyung’s brows furrows as he gives his older brother an accusing glare.
Hoseok doesn’t notice though, just pauses to rummage through his memories before his face lights up and he responds with a loud, “You were a boy scout! You even had a uniform!”
Jungkook almost chokes on his pizza again.
“Dude, learn to chew.”
Jungkook only reddens again.
“See! I was a boy scout, now please tell me yes Kookie? Just this once I want to try it. It’ll be like my birthday present to you,” Taehyung drapes himself across the table to cling onto Jungkook’s arm and the younger is torn between letting Taehyung cling or hiding. |
c1fbcad2512d49febc25ac7e7e5fb897 | ['975900861466412192c14975fb0482cc'] | Bernie blushed and straightened herself up to look Serena in the eyes. Her voice was soft when she spoke.
“I love you, that’s all,” she bit her lower lip, knowing she sounded silly. Serena chuckled and kissed her, chaste and quick.
“For a big macho army medic, you really can be quite soppy. What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me?” The words left her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She felt the panic rising, they hadn’t talked about this, Bernie had only just moved in officially. She went to play it off as a joke, she saw Serena gaping at her, obviously trying to find the words to say no, and she kicked herself.
“Go on then,” Serena smiled, and it was Bernie’s turn to be frozen with her jaw dropped.
She didn’t know what to say, had that really just happened? She wanted to pinch herself, check it wasn’t a dream. She could feel herself tearing up, the day’s emotion bubbling up from deep inside, mixed with a rush of pure love that made her heart hammer against her chest.
She released it all into a kiss, starting fierce, letting all of that love out to show Serena she had meant it. Serena returned the kiss with the same passion, hot and eager. They got lost in each other, the taste of wine on their tongues, Bernie’s slightly damp hair curled around Serena’s fingers, Bernie’s hands clasped at the nape of Serena’s neck.
Eventually, Bernie had to stop, pain shooting down her leg which had got trapped. She winced and Serena grinned.
“I guess that means you won’t be getting down on one knee, you might not get up again,” she laughed, as Bernie massaged her own calf, trying to speed up the return of sensation.
“Are, are you sure, Serena?” she stuttered, wanting to be absolutely certain, “I didn’t really plan it, I just, I realised today that you make me so inexplicably happy, and when you said that… I don’t know what came over me. I know we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t want to pressure you.”
Serena silenced her by pressing a finger on her lips. “I’m sure, Bernie. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want to make it official. So yes, I will marry you.”
Bernie felt contentment wash over her, removing those anxious, invasive thoughts, only to feel guilty again.
“I haven’t done this properly, have I? I don’t have a ring, I didn’t even get on one knee, look at me I’m in jogging bottoms for goodness sake. I’m sorry, Serena, it wasn’t a great proposal.”
Serena felt the tears behind her eyes, Bernie looked so downcast, like she’d failed as a partner, but it simply wasn’t true.
“That was a far better proposal than anything else, Bernie, because it came from the heart. Edward did the whole expensive restaurant, ring in the champagne. It was all for his benefit to show off in front of strangers and brag to his friends. This was perfect.”
She leant towards Bernie for another kiss, this one slow and lingering. She caressed Bernie's cheek, stroking away the few tears that had crept out, and smiled against her lips.
"I love you," she murmured, as Bernie began to move along her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses up to her ear. She nibbled lightly at the lobe and whispered back, her breath hot against Serena's skin.
"I love you too," she resumed along the curve of Serena's neck down to her collar bones and her skin felt simultaneously on fire and tingling with goose bumps.
Her hands skimmed over the bottom of her vest but Serena caught her wrists. She was well aware that Bernie's back, and her own hips, would not thank them if they continued this on the sofa.
"Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?"
Bernie looked up at her, eyes filled with love and longing. She stood, pulling Serena up with her, the wine and TV completely forgotten.
"Lead the way, Ms Campbell," she said, and linked their fingers together as Serena practically dragged her towards the stairs.
By the time they were at the bedroom, Bernie was half carrying Serena, their kisses becoming more forceful and desperate. She gently lay Serena on the bed and resumed her journey along the contour of her clavicles. This time Serena didn't stop her as she delicately moved her hands under her vest, caressing her curves as she moved the material up her stomach and over her head.
She paused momentarily, never growing tired of seeing Serena's body, her pale skin, the faint glimmer of old stretch marks, the fullness of her breasts. Tonight she wanted to worship Serena, show her how much she was loved, how beautiful she was.
Serena started to say something, but Bernie stopped her with a brief kiss. She journeyed lazily down Serena's neck, varying the pressure and feeling her pulse quicken.
Serena arched into Bernie's touch, her body responding to the slow, teasing kisses. She made a point of lingering at Serena's most sensitive points and she let out a breathy moan. Edward and Robbie had never been so attentive to her; she had enjoyed sex with them, with most of the men she'd been with in fact, but with Bernie she had discovered a whole new level of pleasure. She truly understood the term making love, that's what this act was, pure love.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, letting herself focus on Bernie’s touch. She felt the friction of her bra as she arched her back for Bernie to take it off and hearing a contented hum from her partner. She fumbled slightly at the waistband of Serena’s trousers, simultaneously kissing her breasts, Serena helping her and kicking them off onto the floor. | 882adaf3e3ea4bf3935f4e006716b99e | ['975900861466412192c14975fb0482cc'] | "Well, congratulations! Although your presence will be sorely missed. She is well on her way to becoming a leading trauma consultant, I need to watch out or I'll be out of a job!" He let out a loud, barking laugh.
Serena realised he was addressing her and chuckled politely, unsure what to do. She wasn't really sure why she had hung back, but she felt an affinity to this blonde, a fellow spirit fighting through a male dominated profession to get to the top. It was nice that Major Rathbone was appreciative of her talents, and seemed to treat her as an equal.
"I have to say, I'm disappointed by the lack of women attending the lecture, do you think it's just because the army doesn't appeal?" She was impressed that it seemed to be an issue for the army Major, she had expected he would be similar to a lot of the surgeons within her own hospital.
"I'm not sure it's the army, it's the surgery that doesn't appeal, sir."
"Well, that is a shame. Are you a surgeon yourself?"
"Well I'm hoping to get a training post, I'm absolutely fascinated by vascular surgery." She felt a bit embarrassed, admitting that her passion was the same specialty as the Major's.
"Wonderful, I'm doing a few teaching surgeries while I'm on leave, would you like to join and maybe assist? Any friend of the Lieutenant's must be a fantastic doctor, she's quite choosy."
Serena noticed the Lieutenant was blushing now and so she admitted that they hadn't actually met before, but if it was okay she would still like to observe the surgeries. She couldn't quite believe her luck, this was a fantastic opportunity and she had to put in a lot of effort not to squeal and hug the Major. He gave Serena his details and she gushed her thanks, earning a small smirk from the Lieutenant.
"You're a very lucky woman, he is a dream to watch in theatre. I'd better be off, sir, Marcus will be wondering where I've got to. I'm going for a scan later. It was nice to meet you, and good luck on the job application," the blonde smiled broadly at Serena. She had a friendly face, long nose and freckles dotted her cheeks. She was glowing, and Serena felt a pang of envy. She couldn't imagine Edward wanting to go to a scan with her, or supporting her through an army life with months of being absent.
Before Serena had a chance to talk to her, she had turned and strode out of lecture hall. She'd been right, there was absolutely no evidence of the baby bump from behind.
*****
Serena got to assist Major Rathbone in an open aortic aneurysm repair and she decided that the rush she experienced was better than any drug (she'd only ever smoked cannabis herself, but a few friends had described their trips to her and her elation and giddiness after surgery sounded pretty similar).
She got the training post and a couple of years later she and Edward finally started the family she'd wanted. When she was pregnant, she thought of the Lieutenant a few times, wondering what she was doing now, whether she had been promoted and was making a name for herself as a RAMC surgeon.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Okay so this is set in 1992 when Bernie would have been pregnant with Cameron, because it also fits with when I reckon Serena would have been a junior doctor but she hasn't had Elinor yet. However, she references Take That and I know they didn't become super famous until about 94, so just pretend that they were famous before that? Because I can't think of any similar boy bands in that year that would have had a massive teenage girl fanbase... (if anyone can let me know!)
>
> Also a grand round is a teaching opportunity where doctors from the hospital present a case or interesting topic, but they do sometimes have external speakers
3. Supermarket Sweep
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Not much to say about this one, except I wrote most of it late at night whilst watching the election results. Just a short one, because I couldn't think of anything better for this time period :/ I have planned the rough plots of the next two!
_2003_
Barbecues should be banned, in Bernie's opinion. Especially on a late May Bank Holiday, when the weather was always crap but people insisted on getting out into the garden, invariably ending up huddled under a flimsy gazebo with soggy burger buns and with a smokey haze filling the air. However, Marcus had been insistent on gathering family round for Charlotte's birthday. Conveniently he had then agreed to long shifts in the few days before, leaving Bernie to do all of the preparation on one of the busiest weekends of the year.
_Fucking typical,_ she thought to herself as she tried to weave her way in and out of people deliberating over whether they wanted seeded buns or granary (what was the difference? Bernie had no clue whatsoever, but apparently it was a very important decision for the customers of Sainsbury's). She lost Charlotte and Cameron several times, both of them had wanted to escort Bernie to the supermarket, mainly because Marcus always bought them treats and they were expecting the same from her.
Of course, she'd give in to them, always feeling the guilt of not being around but knowing deep down that spoiling them wasn't going to change anything. So far, Cameron had managed to sneak a magazine in the trolley, Charlotte bringing a pack of glittery gel pens towards her with large puppy eyes. "Go on then. Right, what's left on the list, Cameron?"
"Ice cream, crisps and cake!" He grinned up at his mother, who tutted at him.
"I'm fairly sure salad is on there as well, isn't it?" |
be02385a825648d29ac082b281caec03 | ['97916b23c3964733a67f4e0ff3184161'] | “I’m all right, just tired from practicing my Quirk so much yesterday,” she answered truthfully. Mina didn’t need to know that she was up until the small hours of the morning working on it though. “Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and grab some breakfast, and then we can go.”
“Okay!” Mina replied with a wave, heading for the stairs. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen!”
Ochako got dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie. With her phone and purse in her pockets she raced from her room. When she reached the stairs she tapped her fingers together and activated her Quirk. She threw herself down the stairs, catching the railing as she reached the turn halfway between the fourth and third floor. Using her momentum Ochako pulled herself around the end of the banister to continue her descent without crashing into the wall like she had the first few times she’d tried this.
She hit the ground floor running, dashing to towards the kitchen before she spotted the rest of the girls around the dining table. Momo, who was the only one still eating, waved her over.
“Uraraka!” she called, covering her mouth out of politeness. She swallowed her mouthful and held up a plate of omurice. “I saved you some food.”
“Thanks Momo!” Ochako replied with her brightest smile. Momo was so sweet. Before coming to UA Ochako would never have believed a rich-girl could be so nice. She slid into the seat beside the other girl, deliberately bumping their shoulders together. “You know you can call me Ochako, right? All the other girls do.”
“I know,” said Momo, smiling slightly. “The others have told me the same thing. But my parents raised me to be polite at all times, so it’s a hard habit to break. I’ll get there, I promise.”
Ochako gave her a wide smile before digging into her omurice. The egg and rice seemed to melt in her mouth, the sauce adding a tang on her tongue, and she moaned in appreciation. It was the simple things in life.
“Ok so we’ll head back to the Kiyashi Ward shopping mall,” said Mina, leaning on the table. “I know the last time didn’t work out so well but we won’t have the two trouble magnets with us and there’s this really cute dress I want to get.”
“And besides, we have our provisional licences now,” added Kyoka. “We can act if something happens.”
Ochako and Momo nodded as they finished their breakfast. Ochako clenched her fist at the thought of their last trip to the mall. She’d felt so helpless, so scared, seeing Shigaraki’s hand clenched around Deku’s neck. The fear had almost paralysed her, and she vowed that it would not happen again. She would always act to save people in need.
“Did I hear correctly?” came a small voice from the seating area. Mineta was standing beside a couch where Kaminari and Sero were playing a video game. Mineta looked like he was about to start chewing on his fingernails. “I bet they’re going to try on clothes at the mall. This would be the perfect opportunity-“
Without even looking away from the game, Sero shot a length of tape out from his elbow, wrapping it around the diminutive student’s face and covering his mouth. He took a moment to tear the strip from his arm and stick it to the couch, effectively trapping Mineta there.
“Thanks Sero!” Toru yelled, waving her arm at the boys.
“No problem Hagakure!” Sero shouted back, still not looking away from the screen. Mineta visibly pouted behind the tape obscuring his face. “You girls have a good time, we’ll keep Grape-head here!”
“We should leave now so we don’t miss the train,” Tsuyu croaked, checking her phone. The other girls agreed and Ochako quickly put her and Momo’s dishes in the dishwasher before rushing out the door after them, a skip in her step.
The Kiyashi Ward shopping mall was as busy as ever, with people of all shapes and sizes bustling about. The girls made their way to the fountain at the centre, Ochako taking up the rear. A gnawing feeling took hold of her heart as she looked at shops selling pretty clothes, the latest gadgets and plush toys. She wished she had enough money to treat herself, just this once. She sighed. Even with the pay from her internship at Ryukyu’s agency she couldn’t really justify buying something she didn’t need.
“Okay!” Mina exclaimed, turning to face the rest of the group with a grin. “The shop I want to go to is at the north end of the mall. The dress I saw online is on sale so I want to grab it quick before someone else does. Anyone want to come with?”
“I’ll go with you Mina, kero,” said Tsuyu, smiling gently. “My parents’ twentieth anniversary is on during the winter break and I want to get a nice dress for the occasion.”
“Eh? Your parents got married in the winter, Tsu?” Ochako asked, leaning towards her friend. “I thought your whole family got slow during the cold because of your Quirks?”
“We do,” Tsuyu confirmed with a nod. “But before I was born my parents travelled a lot, so they had a destination wedding in Taiwan, where it’s much warmer. My dad always rents out a private, heated room in a restaurant for the evening, so it’s always one of the few times in winter we really feel like ourselves. I’m really looking forward to it, kero!”
Ochako smiled sadly. It sounded like Tsuyu would have a fantastic time but it made her miss her own parents even more. She hadn’t seen them since they’d come to visit right after the sports festival. | 498945908dec4c9093ce7838c7c4ae22 | ['97916b23c3964733a67f4e0ff3184161'] | Mr Aizawa raised an eyebrow, which Ochako knew was about as close as the man ever came to looking impressed. “Midoriya, you have your own work to do,” he said, getting a quick “yessir” in reply from her friend as he rushed to his assigned boards. “Get practicing, Uraraka,” he continued. “There should be a scales in the supply closet. Get it and try reducing the gravity of some weights consistently.”
“Yes sir!” she answered with a grin before she turned towards the closet.
“And Uraraka.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I still want you to push your weight limit during the second hour.”
“Yes sir!”
When Ochako crawled into bed that night, it was with a giddy sense of accomplishment. It felt like a world of possibilities had opened up for her. She’d spent the full hour practicing with her new abilities. It reminded her of when she’d first arrived at UA, when she was suddenly forced to use muscles she hadn’t before, only this time the muscle was in her brain. Ochako had pushed it hard, and by the end of that hour she’d learned so much.
Her first attempts had removed most of the object’s gravity, reducing its weight to about a sixth of what it had originally weighed, but as she practiced and refined the image of what she wanted in her head she was able to take away half of the object’s gravity before her hour was up. It was like Deku had said, her Quirk worked between zero and one hundred percent, and she was working backwards from one hundred.
And she hadn’t even gotten nauseous until she’d switched to her regular weight limit training. She’d just felt a little light headed. Unfortunately, the moment Ochako went back to completely removing the gravity from the weights the nausea had hit her full force, as if she had spent that first hour pushing her weight limit.
Still, it was exciting, thinking of what she could do. Ochako was positive that this new development would be useful in the future. And hey, now she could let people experience what it would be like to walk on the moon, or Mars, or…
Ochako sat up suddenly, her brow furrowed as a thought hit her. Would it even be possible? Yesterday she would have said no, but today she’d learned that she didn’t know her Quirk as well as she thought she did. For all she knew it could very well be feasible.
Ochako slipped from her bed, tiptoeing over to her drawers, flicking on her desk lamp as she did. With a quick rummage through the bottom drawer she found a small weighing scales she’d used to carefully weigh food portions to save money, back when she lived off-campus. She was so glad she was in the dorms now, where a food allowance was supplied by the school. She didn’t have to go hungry as much.
Grabbing her pocket Japanese to English dictionary from her school bag, Ochako placed it on the scales. She took a deep breath, focused, and activated her Quirk. The dictionary’s weight became half of what it had been. She focused harder, pushing that mental muscle she’d found earlier, and did it again. There was a slight increase in the dictionary’s weight, to maybe fifty two percent of its original weight.
Ochako clenched her fist in determination before repeating the process. She lost track of time as she sat at her desk, practicing with the kind of single-minded focus that she always admired in Deku. She would master this new power, she swore, pushing on even as a splitting headache began to form. She would!
It was only when a sharp stabbing pain in her head made her vision blur that she stopped. Ochako rubbed at her temples, trying to will the pain away.
_That’s enough for tonight,_ she thought. She grabbed her phone to check the time. _Four AM?! How long have I been at this?_
With a quiet breath thanking whatever gods there might be that it was the weekend, Ochako stood up. She brought her hands together, ready to release her Quirk for the final time that night when she caught sight of the weight shown on the scales. She blinked a couple of times before she understood what she was looking at.
“It worked,” she whispered, eyes wide. She threw her hands into the air with a yell. “It worked!” Immediately she covered her mouth with her hands, hoping nobody had heard her. Thankfully, Mina was the only other girl on Ochako’s floor and there were empty rooms between the two.
Smiling wide, Ochako released her Quirk and turned off the light. Sniffing at a tickle in her nose she collapsed on top of her bed, asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.
“Ochako? Ochako are you in there?”
Ochako awoke slowly, the warmth of her bed holding her captive. She struggled out of it, stretching with a yawn, and trudged over to answer the insistent knocking at her door. Mina stood on the other side, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“There you are! I was beginning to think you were never going to get up. It’s after eleven!” she said with a wide smile. “We’re going to the mall today with the rest of the girls, remember?”
“Ah, right,” said Ochako, through another yawn. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about their plans. Mina had insisted that they use Saturdays to do something fun together and though Ochako didn’t have enough money to buy anything herself she was looking forward to spending time with her friends.
“You okay?” Mina asked, one finger pointed at her face. “You look kind of out of it.” |
0d0d2057c4a24d58a3ac112fd8a80ef3 | ['97da7fc6ba324c0a9e68f8a8cf6d8b66'] | Kaneki smoothed his hair down as he tried to calm his nerves. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, Touka most likely has let Hide out of the trash can already. In case she hadn’t though, he knew she would never really listen to him and he needed people she would listen to. Smoothing his hair a bit more, Kaneki heard a whoosh and turned before a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and he fell down.
“KANEKIIII! YOMO IS SO MEAN HE WOULDN’T TALK TO ME THE ENTIRE RUN OVER HERE! I think he’s jealous of Hide and I’s connection.” Kaneki heard a scoff behind him as Yomo’s figure appeared out of the darkness and into the street lamp. Kaneki tried to suppress a smirk as he could see jealousy written all over Yomo’s face.
“I don’t know what to say Uta, I guess he’s not really your friend if he doesn’t understand.” Yomo shot him a dirty look and Uta laughed.
“Thank you Kaneki, at least someone gets me.” Kaneki merely shrugged, he knew Hide had an effect on people. Looking around a bit, Kaneki checked his phone and tapped his foot impatiently.
“Where the hell is Nishiki? Not to be rude but we look like some suspicious gang standing underneath this lamp. Uta you’re not helping with your tattoos.” Uta scoffed, looking wounded as he stepped back a bit away from Kaneki.
“How dare you, I thought we were friends. My tattoos are amazing thank you very much. Not my fault if people can’t appreciate art.” Uta flipped his hair and put his hand on his hip to make his point. Yomo rolled his eyes.
“I have to agree with Kaneki, I could be sleeping or eating or doing anything else really right now. Come to think of it, why am I here? I barely know this guy.” Yomo had a bit of a point.
“YOMO YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Hide is an angel and Touka is locking him in a trashcan. You’d dare speak so carelessly about our Lord and Savior Hide? And putting all that aside, you have to admit this is fun. Standing around all sneakily, ready to infiltrate enemy lines.” Yomo rose an eyebrow.
“Isn’t this just Touka’s apartment?” Uta shushed him.
“NOT THE POINT! Point is, Hide is the damsel and Kaneki needs to save him. We’re just the homosexual support group.” Kaneki wanted to say something but was interrupted by a snort.
“Last I checked tattoos, I’m not a homosexual.” Kaneki turned around and saw Nishiki approaching the group in jeans and a sweater.
“Well well well, if it isn’t Nishiki finally joining us. What took you so long?” Nishiki sighed.
“In case you lot forgot, I live 15 minutes away from here? Plus my bike broke so I had to walk because my tired ass isn’t running or using my kagune to get here faster.” Uta sighed.
“Straight people are no fun.” Yomo snorted and Nishiki twitched his eye.
“Be happy I’m here Uta, I seriously don’t understand why I am. I’m hoping I at least get some blackmail material.” Kaneki sighed.
“I like to think we’re all here for Hide, but I know Uta is the only one who will really bust in crying wanting his husband back.” Uta nodded his head.
“Damn right I will. Since you won’t make a move guess I’ll take him, I’ll treat him right don’t worry.” Kaneki chocked on air for a few seconds.
“Uta, what the hell does that mean? You know Hide is my best friend.” Everyone pursed their lips.
“Look Kaneki, I barely know you two but from what I’ve seen even I can tell there’s some tension. If you don’t want to admit it to Hide that’s fine, but you don’t have to lie to us.” Nishiki snorted.
“Yomo this isn’t a slumber party where we’re going to tell each other secrets and braid hair.” Uta perked up at that.
“I would so be down for that, if we do it I’ll give everyone a free tat. Has to be a small design though.” Kaneki groaned.
“Can we all just please go do what we came here to do?! Swear you guys are insufferable.” Nishiki waved his hand.
“Okay okay whatever yeah, let’s go guys before Kaneki’s boner hurts him.” Uta walked ahead of the group and ran up the stairs to Touka’s floor like a madman. Kaneki glared at Nishiki the entire time who merely stuck his tongue out at him. Making it to Touka’s apartment, Kaneki was about to pull out his spare key before Uta kicked the door open and ran in.
“ALRIGHT BITCH! TELL ME WHERE MY SUN IS OR ILL KICK YOUR PURPLE-HAIRED ASS!” Kaneki mentally banged his head against a brick wall as Uta yelled at Touka. The girl was quite contently sitting on top of a metal garbage can and had a phone in her hand. Her calm expression though changed when she saw Uta, Yomo, and Nishiki walk in the room.
“Kaneki seriously? This is your backup? Fucker, you know I hate them.” Kaneki smirked as he finally walked through the doorway.
“Exactly. Now let Hide go please.” Kaneki heard a small bang come from the can.
“Kaneki! Oh than god, I have to pee so bad. Is Uta here too?” Kaneki laughed a bit.
“HIDE! I’M HERE BABY! I’LL SAVE YOU!” Hide laughed a bit as he sighed dramatically.
“My hero! Let’s run away together once you free me from my metal prison!” Nishiki pulled his phone out and started recording as Yomo tried and failed to contain his facial expressions. Touka watched the entire exchange with bored eyes.
“What is this? Some 2000 romantic comedy chick flick?” Uta puffed his chest out.
“That’s right bitch, and right now you’re the angry parent not letting the two star crossed lovers meet.” Touka raised her eyebrow. | a608d8ece4804e3b95f88194ca1a9c79 | ['97da7fc6ba324c0a9e68f8a8cf6d8b66'] | A few different songs played as Alfor continued to watch. Trigel, Blaytz, Gyrgon, and Zarkon had all come together in a group of four and were dancing with their hands interlocked together. Each-and-every one of them were laughing and Alfor found it quite beautiful. Coran had switched between different partners and each time seemed to become freer as time went by. After the current song ended, Coran bid his dance partner goodbye and locked eyes with Alfor.
Coran was sweating yet seem to glow because of it. It was breathtaking and Alfor forgot how to breathe. Walking up to him, Coran held his hand out.
“Alfor, I refuse to have my king stand on the sidelines and not dance. You look like a sore thumb standing here.” Alfor tried hard not to think about where this conversation was heading.
“Has anyone asked you to dance yet my King? If you say no I’m going to fight someone.” Coran fluffed his hair up a bit and stroke a pose just to prove his point. Laughing, Alfor spoke.
“I see a few people eyeing me, but I never was one for these things. I’m already way out of my comfort zone right now.” Coran gave a big sigh, grabbing Alfor’s hand he pulled him along onto the dancefloor and faced him. Alfor could feel his face heat up but Coran just grabbed his free hand and placed it on his waist. Maintaining eye contact, Coran placed his other free hand on Alfor’s shoulder and the two began to dance.
It felt wrong. Wrong in so many ways Alfor couldn’t begin to describe. He shouldn’t be dancing with his advisor, his closest friend, his ADVISOR. Coran didn’t seem to be having any problems dancing with his king, and Alfor hated him for being so calm. Taking a quick glance around, Alfor noticed many people were staring while some simply continued to dance. King Lubos I briefly caught his eye and smirked before going back to his conversation.
“What are you looking at Alfor?” Looking back over at Coran, Alfor felt compelled again to say something but held back.
“People are staring Coran, we shouldn’t be dancing.” Coran huffed.
“It’s a ball Alfor, people are supposed to dance; don’t worry about them, just focus on me. It’s just us and the floor and the music, okay?” Alfor took a deep breath in. Coran was right, just focus on Coran, he could dance just fine if he focused on Coran and Coran only.
“Okay, okay I’ll just focus on you.” Gripping Coran’s hand a little tighter Alfor pulled him closer. Rules be damned, this one night he was going to take a risk. Coran smiled and it was then the night truly began.
* * *
Alfor didn’t notice when he and Coran became the only ones left on the dancefloor. Nothing mattered outside of the small world they had created between themselves. Alfor couldn’t even remember the last time he laughed or smiled so much; and he would bet money Coran was feeling the same way.
As the night continued on, and a slow song that was slower than many of the others played, Coran did his first dip on Alfor. It was slow and steady and Alfor remained eye contact all the while he was being bent backwards. Coran seemed uncertain at first, but Alfor just nodded his head and Coran smirked slightly in return. The invitation was received, Coran didn’t stop until the song was over and his arms felt like Jell-O. Neither of them said anything as they parted quickly and bowed before their hands resumed positions and the next song started.
The next song was way more upbeat than the previous, and Alfor took the chance of trying something he had never attempted before. It was normal in most dances, Alfor had seen, for the gentleman to lift the lady and twirl ever so slightly before setting her down. Alfor was strong, thank Altea for his fencing lessons, but a man lifting another man? That was something Alfor didn’t know how it would be taken. Looking at Coran Alfor felt most of his fear melt away as the man who had stolen his heart locked eyes with him and giggled before stepping back a bit and forcing Alfor to twirl him. The twirl lasted a few seconds, then Alfor found himself bringing Coran back in almost chest-to-chest. Another giggle escaped Coran’s lips and Alfor knew he was going to lift him right then and there despite what people might think.
Taking a deep breathe, Alfor let go of Coran’s hand, brought his hands to Coran’s waist, then lifted him up; earning a small shriek of surprise from him in the process. Coran grabbed onto Alfor’s shoulders upon realizing what was happening, and panted a bit when he was spun around before being set back down. Alfor immediately removed his hands from Coran’s waist, embarrassment flushing his entire face as he put his hands back to their original position.
Neither man could look each other in the face properly, and Alfor mentally kicked himself for doing such an idiotic thing. The song ended soon after and just like the previous times, Coran and Alfor parted, bowed, then rejoined together. However, this time, no music started. Alfor looked over at the musicians who were all holding their instruments staring at him. It was at this moment that Alfor noticed he and Coran were completely alone on the floor. Pure terror hit him in the gut as everyone, not just the musicians, were staring intently at him and Coran. Coran’s hands were getting sweatier by the second as Alfor felt the sudden urge to let go. |
5f633f1c00404b4094ced2b25dc54f7d | ['97f0460cde2b4950ba4b19d729b709c3'] | He reached for the angels arm to pull him along as he went towards where the sound came from. At least where he suspected it at least to come from.
"Oh, shit.", the demon muttered and spoke out loud both of their thoughts, as their eyes stared at the rather enormous iceberg on the water which had apparently collided with the ship.
"It doesn't seem like anything happened, does it?", Aziraphale asked after a moment; since nobody fell into visible panic yet. Everything was still rather quiet, as if the ship itself was holding its breath.
Not many people were on deck, most of the guests had retreated to their rooms or other parts of the ship which were warmer than it was outside.
"No. Let's hope it was nothing.", the demon replied slowly.
–
12:05 am.
The evacuation started. Aziraphale had really hoped that everything was alright. They both had hoped so. Briefly they wondered if a little miracle would be too obvious, but figured that they couldn't prevent everything. Some things had to happen.
Even Crowley didn't dare to interfere like that. They both didn't know if this was supposed to happen, since none of their sides even knew that they were here. It was too much of a risk.
But that didn't mean they couldn't help to evacuate the people. And maybe save another one or two like that.
12:45 am.
The first lifeboat touched the water but most of the passengers still didn't really believe that this was a safer place than the Titanic, which was definitely bigger than the lifeboats itself.
"I'm going downstairs.", Crowley exclaimed as Aziraphale and he crossed paths at some point.
"Be careful.", Aziraphale replied, worry written all over his face. Worry about Crowley and all these human beings on board.
"You too, angel.", the demon replied and walked backwards, before disappearing inside again.
This should be one of the last times they actually talked to each other for quite a while, without either of them knowing.
Aziraphale simply hoped they would be safe.
1 am.
Crowley was knee deep into the ice cold water and was simply thankful that this wouldn't actually kill him. Or discorperate him. Hopefully at least.
He felt like his soul was torn in two at least, as he found a little boy in the third class, searching for his mum. Crowley simply picked him up and found another bunch of children soon enough.
All those kids. All those who deserved to live and he couldn't save them all, right? It was simply impossible.
Soon enough he was leading the little kids and even some older, some maybe even in their twenties, because there wasn't much time. He might be a demon and would survive, but the human beings weren't so resistant against the cold water that was currently flooding the lower classes.
1:30 am.
Crowley finally managed to get them all into a lifeboat, while Aziraphale was helping the people to get in there without falling or slipping.
He could hear the small orchestra playing, which sort of ended up in goosebumps on his skin. Or maybe it was the simple knowing of the tragedy that would happen soon enough.
Panic was slowly spreading. Not many boats were left and by now almost everyone realized the ship was sinking inevitably.
2:05 am.
The last lifeboat was let down and they couldn't believe it. So many people were still left. Aziraphale had tried to get a younger man on board but was refused and then it was gone.
Aziraphale wanted to help him but by the time he made sure the lifeboat had touched the water safely and without any incident, the man was gone.
The orchestra was still playing. He didn't even recognize the song.
"Crowley!", he called out, searching for the red haired demon in the mass. But the ship was big and he could be on the other side as well.
2:10 am.
One of the chimneys gave in and landed with a horrid sound in the water, which had started to flood the deck already too.
Aziraphale saved one of the crewmembers with his invisible wing, even if he didn't know if it was any use. The life boats were gone. The ship was sinking.
And Crowley was still gone too.
At the same time the demon tried to find the angel, which was nearly impossible. Panic was flooding the remaining people on the ship and he had to make sure he wasn't thrown off.
When the chimney suddenly raced towards the water, his breath was stuck in his throat for a moment.
2:18 am.
The sinking of the ship reached its peak. The luxurious Titanic, biggest ship of the world, broke into two parts.
Suddenly everything went dark and neither the angel, nor the demon could see anything anymore. They only held on to a handful of people, trying to save them while also making sure to not be discorperated.
One of two parts of the Titanic sank almost immediately.
2:20 am.
Aziraphale and Crowley were both holding on to the ship and as the second part of the Titanic started to sink within moments, one occult and one ethereal being spread their wings under water, saving a handful people at least from being drown or being hit by parts of the ship.
2.30 am.
Aziraphale managed to get a young woman into one of the lifeboats that tried to row away as he saved himself as well, trying to get the people to turn around to help the remaining passengers. But they were scared and none wanted to turn around. Except for one boat much later, but that would be too late for most of them.
Crowley was warming one of the babies as he was sitting on one of the lifeboats, a mother having shoved the baby into his arms with her last remaining strength as he was swimming past her. | 74814b2ecbfc465cb95dabf7fb6bada4 | ['97f0460cde2b4950ba4b19d729b709c3'] | "Those aren't even your plants, so let me go."
See, this could have gone forth and back for quite a while and none of them would have gotten anywhere with their arguments since they were both stubborn as hell. Or heaven. Depending on the kind.
So instead of one of them just giving in, Aziraphale tried to reach for the little plant and Crowley was trying to swat his hands away which sort of ended in a really childish fight about the plant.
( They would both deny this for eternity if someone asked. They were a 6000 years old grown up demon and angel. They didn't have childish fights. )
And at some point they were just both holding onto the plant with one hand while Crowley had grabbed Aziraphales other hand to keep it _away_.
That way they sort of ended up closer than before, which was sort of even more weird, to feel each others warmth of the body seeping through the clothes.
Now they could have just let go and went on with the day but as they both held each others hand – it just got really, really weird.
Neither wanted to really let go but also they didn't want to hold on.
Because the longer this took, the more they should have talked about it.
It was in their eyes and maybe they could see it as well, that something had changed, long before.
But only coming now to the angels realization.
And perhaps a mischievous grin spread over a certain angels face as he quickly let go and at the same time pulling at the plants pot when he felt Crowleys grip softening, both arms equally quick wrapping around the plant to keep it safe.
A small hiss escaped the serpents throat as he tried to reach for the plant again.
Too late, Aziraphale was literally destroying all his hard demonic work and healed the little plants leaf, which started to green more than even before.
Now there wasn't even a reason to threaten it anymore.
Awful.
The difference to the other times they accidentally held hands was the little smile that they both kept carrying around for the rest of the day, even after they were alone again.
Therefore no plant had to see the garbage disposal today, even if Crowley only used it for show. Putting the plants with spots and brown leaves into an own room with more sunlight.
Aziraphale could absolutely _never_ ever know about that.
Because he'd never stop telling him how kind he actually was.
And Crowley absolutely hated the fact that his plants were more healthy than ever after the angel had left, some even starting to bloom.
Some which shouldn't even be able to bloom.
( He hated it so much, he stared at the beautiful plants at least for an hour with the softest scowl. )
( He hated the angel even more. )
_For the fifth time they accidentally held hands for approximately two minutes._
—
> _Take a step and come out of the shade_
> _I can tell you're no longer afraid_
> _I'm helpless without your warming smile_
—
So the plan – not the _ineffable one_ – but one almost as good had formed in the demons mind.
He decided that it was time, that he just had to risk it one last time.
Maybe he still went too fast for the angel, but also maybe the angel finally caught up with him.
Maybe even if he went still too fast, the angel would follow anyway.
There were so many possibilities of the eventual outcome of his plan, that he almost turned around again once he pushed open the door to the bookshop.
To his surprise, a few costumers were actually looking at books, Aziraphale somewhere sorting through a newly arrived staple of books.
Almost like a miracle the bookshop was empty ten minutes later.
Now neither of them would deny nor admit if it was a demonic or angelic miracle, so everybody could think whatever they want to think.
"Angel! Angel.", he breathed out, his hands on the table as he was standing on the other side of it, so he could directly stare at the addressed angel with yellow eyes.
Now there was this thing about Crowleys eyes.
The white disappeared whenever he was stressed and right now he was absolutely stressed.
Because the demon just realized that this could go absolutely horribly wrong.
And Aziraphale wasn't dumb, he knew the demon better than he knew anyone else, better than heaven. And he had always noticed the change of the serpents eyes.
But the sunglasses revealed only so much and it wasn't nearly enough to actually make out his eyes through them.
Right now he could only guess the stressed feeling, but it was almost surrounding him like the air was surrounding them both.
"Are you alright, my dear?", the angel asked and reached out to carefully remove the demons glasses.
"How many times do I have to tell you, that you don't need them around me?", Aziraphale asked softly, the glasses being mindfully placed on the table that was still separating their bodies.
"At least one more time, angel.", Crowley replied and a small smirk spread over the demons face, which was almost too soft to be worth of being called a smirk.
"What are you doing here? You were chasing away my costumers."
And the voice was a little scolding, as if Aziraphale had ever sold a book ever since he had the bookshop.
"You never sell any books.", Crowley spoke out what they were both thinking and this time the smirk was definitely worthy enough to be called a demonic smirk. Or at least as much of demonic smirks as Crowley could produce.
A soft blush crept upon the angels cheeks, as if it had been one of his best hidden secrets. |
321111b5d4444838b8c4919c10febdc8 | ['97fd2094127348a4a86b67f715d2fb8e'] | Sam turned and looked at Dean. "I am very good at starting fights. I'm very skilled in it, apparently, because I speak my mind. You heard my opinion. Alfred looks up to you a great deal and I think it would mean a lot to him if you went with him. But I don't know if that's the way things work. Maybe it's tradition for a captain to simply give his cabin boy extra money to go lose his virginity. You seemed...sensitive...about it, so I thought I should apologize for maybe speaking foolishly and I felt I shouldn't push because I don't know what tradition is. When someone snaps at me, I have been... well disciplined...to apologize if I don't want to rile them further. And I don't want to antagonize you tonight. Yet I seem to manage to have that skill too. You asked why I apologized. I was just telling you the truth of my life. Please don't me angry with me because of it."
"I'm not sensitive about it," Dean answered rather heatedly, facing Sam. "For God's sake, all we're talking about is Alfred's virginity, not a keg of black powder about to explode. And I didn't 'snap at you,' I was amused, until..." he waved his hand, "you implied I'm somehow restricting your opinion." Deep down, Dean knew he wasn't being fair. He'd repeatedly told Sam that Sam was his captive and someone in that position would, or should, watch their tongue. But that was the very reason he'd suspected everything Sam told him, until... well at some point he'd started to believe. He didn't like gray areas, Goddammit, he liked black and white, and it was being denied to him. His gaze clashed with Sam's and he took a deep breath. "I'm not angry, I'm... annoyed. There's a difference."
" _All_ we're talking about is his _virginity?_ It's a rite of passage into manhood! It shouldn't be trivialized!" Sam protested. "And you _did_ snap at me when you said you weren't his father! So I figured I'd stepped out of line. I was _trying_ to be respectful of you, your position, and how you choose to run your ship. And it's a load of manure if you think I believe you're not angry. Dammit, man, you've pissed me off. If all I've done is annoy you I'm obviously losing my touch!" he said, his nostrils flaring and eyes flashing.
Dean's frown slowly melted away. "It wasn't about you, alright? It wasn't anything you said. You're not the only one who has ... issues with your father. I've come to hate that word." He gave a snort. "I was angry at myself for even jesting about being mistaken for one. _Briefly angry,_ " he added. "Believe me, if and when I'm angry at you, I will tell you directly. I don't do subtle." Searching Sam's still angry face, he ran his hand down his cheek. "I don't want to argue."
Sam glared at Dean, but made himself listen. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Neither of us wants to argue yet we seem to be doing a masterful job at it...and I bet you'd make a good father. You know what not to do." Poking Dean lightly in the shoulder he added, "You are quite skilled at subtle, at least when it comes to not telling things you don't want to say. Or maybe that's avoidance. Like not telling Alfred you and I are lovers. Alright, no fighting _if_ you promise to send someone with Alfred who will look after the boy's welfare. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Wanting peace above anything else, Dean didn't point out he was neither afraid of nor avoiding telling Alfred anything at all. He was merely amused by the boy's naivety and blindness to what was happening in front of his face. His reason for telling the boy that Sam would explain was exactly the same, he'd wanted to see Sam's reaction and merely imagining him explaining to the lad amused him. Perhaps in time, Sam would understand these things about him. Then again, they were running out of just that. Time. "I will send twelve of my bravest with him, and I'll instruct them to be in the room with Alfred at all times, encouraging and giving him advice and keeping him safe." When Sam opened his mouth, Dean was quick to shovel more food into it and stop any protest. Grinning smugly, he sat back and took a bite of food himself, then put an arm over Sam's shoulders and pulled him close. | 23473fa54ebe4d858636da7ae1f24946 | ['97fd2094127348a4a86b67f715d2fb8e'] | He closed his arms around Dean as they rode the waves of their joint ecstasy, both of them still rocking their bodies. Slowly, the soul tentacles dissipated.
Dragging Dean down onto the bed, Sam smiled down into his face. He kissed him lightly, then teased by lifting his face up a little. His hand moved between their bodies, to close around Dean’s hard cock. “Looks like you’re ready for round two.” He chuckled. “Maybe there’s no need for patience, hmm?” he gave Dean a look.
“How the hell did you do that?” Dean gasped, then gave a groan when Sam’s hand caressed his cock. “How the hell am I still hard?” he asked. Yet he was. The more he breathed in Sam’s scent, the more he felt the energy crackle between. The more he felt rejuvenated and indeed, he was very ready for round two. “How...how often are you in heat?” he asked as his hips began to slowly rock.
“You still haven’t looked me up on the net, have you?” Sam merely smiled, and kissed him again. Then he got up, and started to pull Dean’s pants off. “We won’t be needing these for a couple days…” he smirked, stripping his own clothes off at the same time.
“Been a little busy, what with getting rid of the crown… oh, crap, I’m gonna have to get in that monkey suit all over again.” He laughed. “I bet after seeing that, no one is gonna put up a fight again about me dumping the throne.” After Sam had divested him of his pants, he reached out and began undoing Sam’s pants. “Let’s shoot for the record of a week,” Dean said, grinning at him.
“A week, huh?” On his knees, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and looked down, watching the motions of his hand, his fingers. His breath catching with anticipation. “So you know… it could be a lot like a 69,” he blushed. Ever since Dean had shown him that position, he’d favored it, for more than one reason. “I mean, you could fuck me and I could…” he gave a shy smile, “soul fuck you.” It didn’t sound as good when spoken out loud.
“You know you cross over into adorable when you blush like that.” Dean grinned. “And you’re going to have to show me how to do the whole soul-lovemaking thing so I can give as good as I get.” Dean pushed Sam’s pants down to his knees and saw Sam was as hard as he was. “Oh yeah, a week. And remind me to kill your father for not explaining the whole soul-bound in heat thing.”
Sam started laughing and shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t… I can’t be laughing so hard and having sex and… oh, Dean,” he let out a breath. Pushing himself back to sit down on the bed, he helped Dean get his pants all the way off.
He was so hard and heavy, and sensitive. He ached for Dean’s touch. Craved it with every part of his being. His eyes darkened with desire. “How do you want me?” he asked, licking his lips. His heart thundered against his chest.
“With every fiber of my being,” Dean said, his voice growing deep and husky. He felt his lover’s desperate need and reached out, running his hand up Sam’s thigh until he brushed over Sam’s hardness. He crawled forward, forcing Sam onto his back. “How do I want you? I want you hard, desperate, out of control. But for now, I want to explore you all over again. Or,” he grinned mischievously at Sam, “since getting it back up isn’t going to be a problem, we can just dive right in, oh impatient one.”
“Dive, dive, dive,” Sam said, nodding quickly. “Next round, we can do it the human way. Slow as your breakfast syrup,” he smiled, lifting his hips up to gain a little pressure.
“Aye aye. Submarine Sam it is,” Dean said, laughing, leaning down to kiss Sam. “I think we just made up a new name for sexing it up. Submarining. Ahhh-oooo-gaaa,” he said, then covered Sam’s mouth with his own.
It was going to be a delicious, creative, satisfying week…
THE END |
794e04e1809f4532b224a70fb81bbb23 | ['980a948e41bd42c085a9fabce39e6af9'] | 1. Shadows
I remember when we first met, you were running down the alley, tears streaming down your face, and blood dripping from your hands. You ran into me that night, your eyes terrified as they met mine, Then you ran. Leaving me alone in the alley, surrounded by the dark shadows of the night.
2. Bridge
I remember when we met for the second time. I was walking on the bridge. I was balancing on the railing, teetering on the edge of death. But you pulled me off the railing, Ranting about how I should cherish my life. You were shocked when you finally saw my face. I was the one who ran this time.
3. Fate
Our third meeting was at a therapy group meeting, you had come for attempted suicide, you slit your wrists and had hoped to die, but fate was cruel and brought you back from the brink of solace. I was there for the same, I had swallowed a rainbow of pills. The bright happy colors almost mocking as I closed my exhausted eyes, hoping to rest forever. Away from this cruel reality, But fate had other plans.
4. Why not
I remember when we met each other's eyes. The surprise that flashed across your face. I remember the blank mask that had covered it a moment later. I remember going to the first meeting. They asked you why and you said: “Why not.” I remember the confusion on their faces “I have nothing to live for” you had said. Your face cold and blank. But the picture of your teary, terrified eyes stayed with me. Reminding me that you were just another broken person trying to protect themselves from the cruel world. | 9d5eab946f564b4892f539a6bb7a86d8 | ['980a948e41bd42c085a9fabce39e6af9'] | 1. Perfect
The Golden Boy was perfect. He was what everyone wanted to be, everyone was attracted to his kind personality, his bright smiles. They envied is perfect grades, his endless knowledge, and wisdom. They took pictures of his beautiful art, the kind that made you stop and think. They admired his athleticism, his excellence in every sport, his physical strength, his insane speed, and agility. They were surprised by the multiple languages he spoke fluently. They gushed over his breathtaking looks, his symmetrical face, soft fluffy hair, and large doe eyes. They applauded at his angelic voice, cheered at his graceful dancing. They wondered how he was so perfect, but no one saw the truth. No one realized that the Golden Boy was not as golden as he seemed. He was just a scared child, hiding behind a mask, trying to protect himself. A child who carried the weight of a broken family, of the shell of the woman he used to call Mom, he carried the weight of a father who deserted them, a brother who chose death. No one saw the small broken child with heavy weights on his trembling shoulders. They saw his golden mask but no one knew of the nights he spent at his mother's bedside, staying awake to nurse her through withdrawal, silently taking the cruel words and harsh blows. They saw the lively paintings of life and beauty, but no one saw his true masterpiece, every slice of the blade, every carving, an intricate design, traced in silver, stained with red. No one saw. And maybe, just maybe that’s what kept Jeon Jungkook sane.
2. He’s fine.
Many people asked the Golden Boy how he was so good at everything, they all got the same answer, a shy smile, light blush and “I’m not that good”. They accepted it as just natural talent. But no one knew the true reason why the Golden Boy tried so hard, They didn’t know that his reflexes were built upon years of dodging empty bottles and cans. Didn’t know his strength was from supporting an entire home upon his young shoulders. Didn’t know that his voice was improved from hours of soothing his mother. They didn’t know his grades were from a father who demanded perfection. They didn’t know his dancing was honed from hundreds of hours dancing in the streets, desperately trying to earn money. They didn’t know his artistic side was from hundreds of commissions from which he struggled to pay bills. They didn’t know that he pushed himself so hard because it was all he knew. They didn’t know and the Golden Boy was fine with that. Fine to just appear Golden and Perfect. He was fine.
3. Not enough
It was when he woke up in darkness, covered in his blood that the thought first came to mind. When had perfection started not being enough? It came back when he was thrown against the wall, his small 12-year-old body crumpling to the floor over his report card, the 96% stamped in bright red cruelly mocking him among the 100s and 102s. When did it start becoming ordinary? The thought nagged at the back of his mind for years, fading in and out. But today it returned. Why wasn’t it enough? It was as he woke up on the floor, with a breathing mask against his face that it returned. Why wasn’t he good enough. It was when he drifted back to consciousness and heard the murmurs, it wasn’t until he felt the wooden floors beneath him and the sweat cooling on his skin, it wasn’t until then he realized that his shirt was pulled up to his armpits, his belt missing, jeans loosened, and shoes gone, it wasn’t until he blearily blinked and saw the stares that it returned. Why was it never enough? A shudder shook his body and the Golden Boy shakily pulled down his shirt, covering the scars, covering the silver and red slashes on his thin waist, covered the jagged cuts and scars on his torso, covered the ‘worthless’ carved above his heart, the curses that were etched into his protruding ribs. Why wasn’t he enough? |
cd5e13bf0fdf4e17ae86c10d6d252c80 | ['982a702c476840838ffd2fafc7db678a'] | And she was gone. Quinn had no doubt if there were any way to sort this out, Vette would be able to do it.
~~~~~
It was entirely unexpected when Vette contacted him 10 minutes later.
“You aren’t going to believe this, and I don’t know if I want to discuss this even over a secure line,” she said.
“I’m on my way to Vaiken now. I can be there in less than seven hours,” he said.
“Well, that’s convenient. We’ll be there in about four.” She closed the call.
_We_. He wasn’t going to even begin to speculate who that might mean. If she said Xhareen was over him, that she didn’t want to see him, she wouldn’t ambush either of them, would she?
With Vette, one never knew. Which of course, made life more interesting. He considered it, and thought he could see Xhareen again. He could talk about what happened, ask for forgiveness. After what he’d just been through, he understood why she left the headquarters building on Corellia that day.
So perhaps it was time to try again. Quinn vowed once he and Vette were done with the Kirrika business, he would ask her – beg or bribe if he had to – to help him contact Xhareen one last time.
~~~~~
"So, did you get a hold of Quinn?" Jaesa asked when Vette arrived at the Covenant’s docking bay on Vaiken.
"Yeah, funny thing. He contacted me. Something weird is going on, Jaesa. Something really, really weird."
~~~~~
**On Tython, several days earlier**
Xhareen sat in the corner of the Jedi library, exhausted from the fighting. She hadn’t expected to encounter so many Jedi. She certainly would have preferred not to have taken so many down. Especially the padawans.
She would have given anything if Broonmark had not been injured. Kayda and two Imperial medics were tending to him, stabilizing him so he could be transported to a hospital on the Decimation, the destroyer accompanying the fleet that had instigated the fight on the Jedi homeworld.
Kayda had begged her to leave the med crew alone and let them work on Broonmark. He had suffered several deep lacerations from multiple vibroswords when a small squad of Jedi trainees ambushed him as he was attempting to get to Xhareen, as she fought with a Jedi master and multiple droids. She had to leave Kayda and Broonmark behind; only she, HK-51 and Treek completed the assault on the Temple.
But the Jedi she encountered inside were so focused on her, more than a few of them fell to HK’s and Treek’s superior sniping skills. No one thought to check the corners and shadows for an errant Ewok and her deadly bowcaster or question the presence of an unknown droid while a raging Sith was bearing down on them.
After they defeated the Nautolan Jedi Council member her intel briefing identified as Oric Traless, Xhareen could go no further and retreated to back of the library to rest. Imperial troops were rounding up the remaining Jedi, mostly trainees. Xhareen had ordered them to be herded into the mess hall area, where they would be left unharmed once the Temple was cleared.
Treek left Xhareen and HK in the library, to join in the final sweep. She reveled in this victory, though Xhareen could not. Something felt so … _un-right_ about this attack. HK stood silently a few feet away while Xhareen slumped against the wall behind a table.
Xhareen might not have even taken the assignment if not for the persuasive power of Darth Arkous’s assistant, the enigmatic Lana Beniko. There was something right about her, like the Force had willed them to meet. As for Arkous, he was as unctuous as always, though he seemed almost buoyed by the thought of this ill-conceived attack.
She didn’t move when the Chagrian who appeared to also be another top assistant to Arkous came into the library, went into a back corner and removed a large box from an archival shelf. Lord Goh, Lana had called him. He said nothing on the four-day journey from Vaiken; he just sat in his quarters and meditated. He hadn’t participated in any of the fighting and Xhareen had nearly forgotten about him.
She could tell he was now talking on a holocomm to someone. She removed her visor and took a deep breath. With her Force Sight, she could see he was whispering to Arkous. Goh ended the call, grabbed up the box and left.
Fortunately, he was out of earshot when her own holo buzzed. It was Kayda.
“We’ve got the big guy stabilized. He’s going to pull through, and the doctors should be able to save his leg, but he keeps asking if you can go with him.”
“I was told to report back to Arkous’s command center on Vaiken as soon as the temple was taken. Can you go with him, Kayda? Remind him you’re my kin, so you are his kin, too.”
Kayda sighed. “Oh great. Another brother. Just what I need.” They both laughed.
“I appreciate it. I’ll head for Dromund Kaas as soon as possible.”
“Please do. I don’t want to be responsible for a Talz rampaging through the streets of Kaas City.”
~~~~~
Darth Arkous’s shuttle left a few moments later. Lord Goh’s cabin was occupied and locked by the time she, HK and Treek boarded and she determined that, if she could forget he existed for the next four days, that would be perfectly fine.
~~~~~
The trip was uneventful, but Xhareen’s dreams were not. The worst and most vivid one came last, because afterward, since they were only about a day out, Xhareen determined to stay awake until they made it back to the station. | 8c22c61f36d24c709a3aa67077abc9c0 | ['982a702c476840838ffd2fafc7db678a'] | She was glad she’d taken Jaesa to finish the work The Hand had given her. Quinn would have come unhinged in the temple, in the presence of the Emperor and the spirit of Sel-Makor. She still shared his bed every night, but they stopped with the nightly intimacy. At the time, Xhareen had just put it to the overall stress of the assignment and the relationship settling into a more advanced stage. Quinn still expressed his love for her, still kissed her, still reached for a discreet touch of her hand in public. She hadn’t seen him pulling away, much less figured out why.
She didn’t realize how much time had passed until Zavaa buzzed her on the comm. “Going to spend all day in there? You missed the midday meal. Come to the lounge and eat while Vector and I keep you entertained.”
She agreed. Then she stood up, touched the tank and whispered, “Come back to me, Quinn. I need to know.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Xhareen could see them in the lounge before she got there. Zavaa was laughing, moving into Vector's arms, kissing him. She'd never seen her friend like this. Zavaa had always been cool and aloof to her love interests, even as a teenager. Friends got much more affection from her. Yet here she was, as giddy in love as Xhareen was. Or had been.
They saw Xhareen and pulled apart.
“No, don't stop on my account.” She hadn't meant to embarrass them. She had put this on everyone, making her now-broken relationship the centerpiece of a cloying drama even Vette might think overwrought.
Vector had apparently done his “unjoining” ritual because he stood there, smiling, with eyes as gray and bright as the Dromund Kaas sky after a summer storm, in those moments before the sun returned to burn up the wet, heavy air.
“Oh, I get it. This is where we talk, am I right?”
“Just sit, Xhareen. Eat some real food for a change.”
She had to admit, it smelled good. Not that they didn't have fresh food on the _Covenant_ , but she was suddenly hungry. She ate while Zavaa and Vector recounted the story of how they met.
“I'm truly happy for you both, and I confess, I envy you,” Xhareen said. “I fear I have ruined my only chance at love.” She placed her fork down and pushed the plate away.
“That's nonsense and you know it, Xhareen.” Zavaa motioned to the droid standing in the corner, so quiet Xhareen hadn't seen it. The droid removed the remnants of her meal, and itself.
Zavaa had always been the kind of friend who would say “they're a jerk, move on” but Xhareen knew Zavaa figured out how deeply she cared for the patient in the medbay. But right now, Xhareen had no way of knowing if Zavaa meant she and Quinn still had a chance, or if she was encouraging Xhareen to realize that at some point, she'd be able to move on.
“I keep going over everything and I can't find a way to make any of it make sense. Quinn is not a liar. That's not a morality assessment; it's just not in his skill set. If he had been a mole all along, I don't think he knew it. He's a terrible actor and if he'd been faking his attraction and affection toward me, I would have seen it. Even if I hadn't, Jaesa and Vette certainly would have seen it.”
“But he did deceive you, to get you onto that starship, right?” Zavaa had a way of not pulling punches. It was probably a mercy that she wasn't going to do it now, either.
“He can be sneaky and quiet. I guess he's capable of a lie by omission.”
“You know what I'm going to ask next, don't you? The big question: Why?” She sounded like an Imperial prosecutor, preparing for a trial.
“I don't know why. Every time I try to think about it, it takes me to ugly places where love means nothing and career means everything.”
“But he does love you,” Vector said. “Your pain is from betrayal, not doubt.”
Had she doubted Quinn's love since they became a couple? No, she hadn't. She had to be honest about that. She'd spent months convinced he'd never be ready to start a relationship, but once they had spent their second night together, she knew his feelings, and hers, were real.
“I know this sounds corny, but I thought I had met a soul mate in Quinn … in Malavai. He was all rules and regulations and perfection when I met him. We were so different, and it was exhilarating. When he said no to my advances, I was hurt, but for the first time ever, I was glad someone who had rejected me wasn't going away.
“So we spent months together as something more than friends, but less than lovers. I reveled in his sense of duty to the Empire. I have always differed from so many Sith in that regard, and it was good to find someone who wants to keep our way of life safe.
“But that’s what went wrong, in the end. He served a different master, not me, and it happened to be Darth Baras, the man who wants me dead. Baras may have promised him nothing more than his life if he did his bidding and got rid of me, but I know Quinn. He'd pick himself up and get back to work the next day.”
“If I may presume, Xhareen, but Zavaa filled me in a bit on your situation last night, discreetly, of course. You are certain Captain Quinn’s motives were entirely about his career?”
“I don’t know. I had no time to interrogate him after our confrontation. Zavaa did you … I mean, she told you what I did, yes?” |
64081803116345d1845da1dcd63ad9ac | ['986ac33ec8274e03a3e60a0ddbd1d149'] | John grins. “Spoiler alert,” he teases, hoping to calm Sherlock down slightly. What could be in this envelope that would cause Sherlock such hesitation, such anxiety? Sherlock is usually so self-assured, confident in his deductions of others. Is he really so unsure of how John will react to this particular gift? As if he hadn’t already smashed Valentine's Day out of the park altogether.
Sherlock rushes on. “All of those websites, they suggested writing a letter to your significant other on Valentine's Day, telling them how you feel.” He bites his lip nervously. “I tried to do that, John, I really did, but the words came out all wrong. There… there weren’t enough words in the English language, or maybe I just couldn’t pinpoint them, but none of it expressed what I wanted to say to you, and none of it came close to conveying how I feel. It was a proper mess, and you deserved better than that.”
As Sherlock speaks, John’s fingers are working to unfold several sheets of folded paper- the contents of the envelope. His breath hitches in his throat when his gaze rakes over line upon line of sheet music- for the violin, he is certain. John himself can make no sense of the notes- he has never been an adept musician- but in that moment, the rise and fall of notation on paper is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life, and understanding and love transcend spoken language as he gazes upon this gift, the best thing he has ever received. He cannot understand a single note scrawled on the paper before him, and yet he understands unequivocally that it is the most beautiful and heartbreaking message to ever be conveyed, in any language.
He looks up at the detective with wide eyes, truly struck silent by this gesture.
“It is a piece I composed myself,” Sherlock explains shyly. “I will play it for you after dinner. It is us. It is everything that I feel for you, everything that I have felt for you since the day we met, translated into the language I know how to best convey myself.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a shy smile that takes years off his features.
“I’m told that communicating by spoken word isn’t my best medium.”
John lets out a deep breath he had not been aware of holding, and finds that he is trembling. “You’re, um, you’re doing pretty spectacularly on that front tonight, if I’m being honest. In fact, you may win an award for being the quickest bloke in London to smooth-talk your way into bed this evening.”
Sherlock brightens and some of the tension dissolves in his amusement. “Excellent, so sex is already on the table, then. My work here is done.”
John rolls his eyes. He lays the sheet music and opened envelope down on the table behind them. He places his hands on Sherlock’s waist, delicate.
“Let’s be honest,” he says, his voice taking on a huskier quality. “Sex was never off the table, Sherlock. When is it ever, with us?”
Sherlock chuckles at this, drawing an arm around John’s waist and drawing them chest to chest. They simply hold one another for a long moment; the silence drags on, but it is not uncomfortable in the slightest. On the contrary, it is the most comfortable feeling in the world, the feeling of being able to just exist securely in someone’s presence with no expectations, no need for communication.
Finally, Sherlock breaks the silence, an amusing memory occurring to him.
“The lady at at Tesco seemed to think the recipient of my affections must be quite spoiled,” he points out, his voice bright with amusement and pride.
John tucked his head beneath Sherlock’s chin, burying his face against his neck and simply breathing him in. “Well, she wasn’t wrong,” he murmured. “I suppose I am rather spoiled. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, John.” Sherlock’s chin rests on the top of John’s head. “My actions are simply reflective of the extent of my feelings towards you, and therefore are nothing less than you deserve.”
John draws back a little, just enough to look up into Sherlock’s eyes.
“Sherlock, you know you didn’t have to do all of this, right?” John reaches up with one hand, smoothing Sherlock’s hair away from his forehead tenderly, his fingers lingering against his temple.
“Don’t get me wrong, you really outdid yourself on this one, love. But I would be perfectly content having a nice dinner together, maybe take a walk in the park, and then spend the rest of our evening in the bedroom.”
Sherlock lifts an eyebrow, intrigued, and John cups his hand against the detective’s cheek gently, his gaze piercing against Sherlock’s. He is grateful- beyond grateful, really- but he needs Sherlock to understand that the only important thing about Valentine's Day is who he spends it with, not what they do or what gifts they choose to give one another.
“All of this, it is a beautiful touch and you’ve… trust me, you have given me the most amazing and memorable Valentine's Day I’ve ever experienced.” He hesitates, then corrects himself. “Hell, probably the most memorable Valentine's Day anyone in _London_ has ever experienced. But don’t think for one second that you need to go overboard with some hugely romantic gesture every year, okay? I promise you, it’s not necessary. Simply being with you is enough for me, okay?”
Sherlock nods his head, laying his hand against where John’s fingers rest on his cheek. “I understand,” he confirms. “Hugely romantic gestures are appreciated, but not an annual requirement.”
John nods, pleased. “Fantastic. Now, please keep that mantra in mind as I give you your present, alright?”
And with that, John reaches into his coat pocket and closes his fingers around the small velvet box he has been stowing there since this morning. He draws in a deep breath in an attempt to steel his nerves, the ones that had been temporarily tamped down by Sherlock’s absolutely heartbreaking show of affection.
But as he prepares himself to ask the most important question of his life, John suddenly finds he is far more confident about the ring he is about to offer up to Sherlock. After all, Sherlock had said himself that a traditional Valentine's Day gift should be equivalent to the extent of your affection towards that person.
And John can think of no better way to represent the depth and permanency of his love for Sherlock than through the promise of a lifetime of forever.
**Author's Note:**
> Please leave a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts. | 3a454464909f4101ae6ee1ac4b317458 | ['986ac33ec8274e03a3e60a0ddbd1d149'] | Tony is sixteen when he begins to realize that he doesn’t always live up to his father’s expectations. They have been fighting more frequently, as of late. He is given to understand that this is typical of father-son relationships in adolescence, but it doesn’t make it any less bearable when his father fixes that gaze of absolute disappointment on him. Tony hasn’t created anything noteworthy in over a year. He’s hit a rough patch in his inventions, and as if he wasn’t beating himself up enough about it, he knows that his father is harboring disappointment in the stagnation in his son’s achievements. Tony may be the most accomplished youth of his age in the state, but he knows deep down that his father will forever compare him to the first wonder-boy he encountered, and that any deviation or hiccup on that path to greatness makes him pale in comparison.
He’s sure it isn’t a coincidence that his father seems more and more nostalgic these days- that he rattles off more stories about Captain America than he used to, now that his team has finally scaled back the efforts to recover Cap and the shield. It has been many years, after all. Steve Rogers has faded from the public’s collective memory slowly but surely- revered and honored for his sacrifice, of course, but his loss is no longer an open wound that the public cannot bear. But as the public begins to heal, his father becomes increasingly nostalgic for someone who Tony is irritatingly beginning to feel is the son his father would rather have had.
He tells his father as much one grey afternoon, when he’s had just about enough of his father’s trip down memory lane.
Howard’s eyes widen a little at the accusation and interruption, and he studies his son with something like surprise. “There was a time when you would beg me to talk about Steve Rogers.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t get you to shut up about him. You wanted to know everything about the man. You worshipped him.”
Tony folds his arms across his chest, scowling at his dinner plate. “There was a time when I believed mudpies would make an excellent dessert, so maybe we shouldn’t get too nostalgic,” he snapped bitterly. “People change, Father. I was a little kid back then.” He stabs angrily at the steak on his plate, ignoring the swell of hurt that has begun to blossom in his chest. “I get it, okay? Steve Rogers was the perfect specimen of a human being, and nothing I could possibly achieve will live up to single-handedly saving the world. Let’s move on.”
The argument spirals from there; it isn’t their first on the subject, and it certainly won’t be their last. And while Tony is still a little too adolescent in his thinking to fully grasp what is happening (despite his brilliance in every other regard), it is this argument that marks the beginning of his need to do more, to please others with his decisions, to be better, so that no one else can compare him to such ridiculously high standards ever again.
+++++
Tony is twenty-one years old when he receives the word of his parents’ car crash, leaving him an orphaned boy-genius with little direction or purpose, and more money than he knows how to be responsible with.
Standing at his parents’ gravesite, listening to the monotonous drone of the funeral still dragging on around him, Tony’s mind flashes strangely to the replica shield he had created at the tender age of eight years old. His eyes flutter shut, and his mind falls back through time to countless hours spent sweating over his first workbench, molding a shield from basic metals, daydreaming of fighting side by side with a real superhero. He basks for a moment in the comfort that such a silly little thing had once brought him- the idea that superheroes could protect the whole wide world, that a mere shield would make sure no harm befell you or anyone you loved. Clearly, that hadn’t worked for Steve Rogers, whose body had never been recovered despite Howard Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s very best efforts.
Tony wishes he had a shield now- wishes he could be enshrouded entirely in armor, wishes he could shut out everything he doesn’t wish to feel anymore. The pain of his parents’ loss cuts deep, and he remembers that Steve Rogers was also orphaned at a young age. He wonders if they would’ve gotten along, had they known one another. He wonders how Steve coped with such unbearable agony.
Finally, he wonders if his father, wherever he is now, will be bothered to tell his old friend about the son who could never follow in his footsteps, the son who had once worshipped that kid from Brooklyn.
+++++
Tony is a slightly more responsible adult when he hears word that Steve Rogers has been recovered from the ice by a team of scientists in the Arctic, after almost seventy years of frozen solitude. He takes the news well enough, curious about the implications of such a discovery, more than a little remorseful that his father didn’t live to see this moment.
A tiny part of him- the boyish part of Tony that he’d long since repressed- felt a twinge of excitement and a longing to immediately make contact with the returned hero. He could do it, he knows that. He has an infinite list of connections, and nobody would think twice about the son of Howard Stark wishing to make contact with Steve Rogers, an old friend of his father’s.
Tony files the thought away for later. It’s too much, too soon. The poor man has only just been recovered, isn’t even awake yet from what Tony’s sources have indicated, and heaven only knows what seventy years in the ice does to a person. Somehow, Tony is almost certain that, sooner or later, their paths will intertwine in some way. |
5efcd7e3d98b4bdcba1bf8399bbd5d62 | ['986eb8351cd94e5ebd7afc8bceebfb54'] |
Unadulterated Loathing
**Author's Note:**
> Hello lovely people, this is my first fic for this fandom because I've read pretty much all existing enjoltaire fanfiction and decided it was time to write some of my own, so enjoy! I have quite a bit written already so I'll try to update like once a week (?) but I'm notoriously bad at sticking to things, so take that with a pinch of salt.
>
> Come talk to me on tumblr LINK or LINK as I don't have any friends in this fandom and I'd really like to make some! Oh and also if anyone would be interested in betaing for this fic, hmu because that would be much appreciated! Ok I'll shut up now; on with the show!
>
> (and yes, the title is from Wicked)
On principle, Grantaire doesn’t like school. He hated sixth form, he hated secondary. Primary, at least, seemed fun, but he can barely remember anything – only afternoons spent painting and running around, and one maths homework where all he had to do was bake a cake. Since the age of ten though, he’s learned to hate school of any kind.
Generally, he loves learning. He’s been known to spend whole nights reading, fiction and non-fiction alike, or sometimes even just Wikipedia pages; something about that raw information thrills him. But as soon as he’s forced to learn for reasons other than enjoyment – as soon as he’s going to be assessed on it – something in him snaps. ‘A natural instinct to disobey authority’, one school report had said, which wasn’t far off. He knows his place in the world – a pointless spec drifting through orbit – it’s his teachers that hadn’t seemed to know theirs. Because what does any of it matter? If he does the maths homework or not, if he flunks an essay in history, if he skips a day in favour of getting drunk with Éponine – none of that makes a difference in the long run.
It is with this attitude that Grantaire begins his first day of university. At least here he can skip classes and drink to his heart’s content. His parents aren’t here to stop him.
.
He’s about ready to collapse when he gets to his room. Most kids – well, not kids anymore – have parents or friends helping them lug their suitcases and boxes into their rooms. Not him. He’s never really done friends (well, aside from Éponine) and his parents are perfectly aware of how he feels about them right now. Luckily, they had agreed to let him get a private room, so at least when he enters his little flat he won’t have to deal with any peppy drama majors or stuck-up STEM students.
Thank god for small mercies.
The key get stuck in the door, _of fucking course it does_ , but after a few minutes of fumbling he manages to get it open, and stumbles into his room, hand already reaching for the flask in his pocket, and stops short.
There’s two beds.
Why are there two beds?
He’s too tried for this shit, he just wants to sleep. Or drink. Or drink and then sleep, that works best. He kicks off his shoes, collapses on the bed furthest from the window and takes a long drink from his flask, throwing himself back on the pillows. He sighs as he stares at the ceiling, dread pooling in his stomach at the prospect of the next three years of his life that were never supposed to happen, and resolves to sort out this whole two bed situation when he wakes. There’s no way he’s putting up with a _roommate_ for a whole year, not when he specifically requested a private room. The thought of having to share the space where, quite frankly, he plans on spending most of his time, with some wannabe-poet English student or over-enthusiastic sports person makes him feel queasy, and it’s with this thought in mind that he drifts into a fitful sleep.
.
It’s several hours later when he wakes, and he groans at the stale taste in his mouth and discomfort at having slept in jeans. It must be early afternoon by now, he figures.
He starts when he sits up. There’s someone sat at the desk in front of him, facing out the window. The two-bed situation comes rushing back into his mind. Grantaire can only see his back, but he figures this is the roommate that he isn’t supposed to have.
“Hey,” he calls, and then again, louder, when he doesn’t hear him.
The figure jolts and turns around, ripping headphones out of his ears and _holy fuck_ it feels like he’s been pnched in the stomach because this might be the most beautiful person Grantaire’s seen in his entire life. The person – _Apollo_ , he thinks, breathless – offers a tense smile.
“Hi,” he says. “I guessing you’re my roommate.” He gets up and offers a hand for Grantaire to shake. “I’m Enjolras.”
“Grantaire,” he replies, glancing over at the desk in an effort to look anywhere but at this fucking god stood before him. “I’m sorry but I think there’s been a mix u- were you studying?” Enjolras looks behind him at the pile of books on the desk, several of them open, and grins sheepishly.
“Yeah.”
Grantaire blinks up at him. “It’s the first day. Classes don’t start for a week.”
Enjolras shrugs, but he still looks tense. “Figured I may as well read ahead.”
“What are you studying?” Grantaire asks, and then mentally kicks himself. He’s supposed to be getting rid of this dude, not making conversation.
“Law.” Fuck. They’re both studying the same subject. He’s not sure why this makes it ten time worse, but it does. They’ll probably have lectures together, oh god. | 66b3d0c2768043b48a4a3a0be6c4fd03 | ['986eb8351cd94e5ebd7afc8bceebfb54'] | God Isak hates Norwegian. Science, great. Maths, fine. But he’s staring at the assigned extract of Ibsen’s _A Doll’s House_ and wondering how the hell the world will benefit from him writing a thousand word essay ‘using the extract and the text as whole’ to ‘discuss whether Torvald Helmer can be forgiven for his actions’. He has no opinion on whether Torvald Helmer can be forgiven for his actions, nor does he care to have one. He was supposed to read the play over the summer but managed to find a movie version to watch instead. Which he fell asleep while watching. All he can remember is that he somehow managed to find every single character annoying.
Sighing, he puts the essay he’s barely started in his bag and tells himself he’ll do it tonight, knowing full well that he won’t get round to finishing it until next Monday evening, the night before it’s due.
“Hey.” Eva dumps her bag on the floor next to his and sits on the table, looking down at Isak. “You okay?” she says through a yawn.
“Tired,” he mumbles back. And stressed. His mum won’t get out of bed or really speak to him, and while that's infinitely better than when she’s screaming at him and telling him he’ll go to Hell, it still wears him down.
She nods. “I feel that. I nearly fell asleep in Spanish. Correction: I did fall asleep. The girl sat next to me had to wake me up.” She yawns again.
“Stop yawning, you’re making me yawn,” Isak says, yawning.
She ignores him. “Anything interesting happen since yesterday?”
Isak had spent yesterday evening making dinner for his mum, and watching TV, eventually falling asleep cuddling Lea. When he’d woken up at midnight and moved to his bed, he’d spent about 3 hours lying staring at the ceiling, feeling worse by the minute. He eventually fell into a fitful sleep that didn’t seem to give him back any of the energy he’d lost on Monday, so “not really. You?”
“Ditto,” she replies as Jonas reaches their table.
“Hey,” he kisses Eva and sits down beside Isak.
“Sorry I’m late, there were some guys getting into a fight on the stairs. Sounded like one of them hooked up with the other’s girlfriend or something.”
Isak rolls his eyes. “How can there already be so much drama on the second day back?”
Jonas shrugs, “I guess shit went down over the summer.”
“Ooh! Speaking of drama, apparently people are already getting into bus groups for _Russ_ ,” Eva says,
Jonas scoffs. “Why? We’re only in our first year. _Russ_ is stupid anyway, do you know how much money gets spent- ” Eva cuts him off.
“On food and alcohol when there are people elsewhere in the world who are starving, yes yes, we _know_ Jonas.”
“Surely you agree that it’s a waste?
Isak lets his mind wander while they argue about the importance of the weird tradition, and his eyes drift across the canteen, stopping to land on a boy sat on the opposite side of the room. He has his feet up on the table and _he’s so hot_ but Isak doesn’t know why he thinks this, doesn’t know why his gaze chose to land on this boy rather than the table of girls next to him. All he knows is that he’s mesmerised, but he quickly looks away when the boy looks up and straight into Isak’s eyes, like he knew he was staring at him. He turns back to Jonas and Eva, the brief moment of awkward eye contact soon forgotten.
**Thursday 16:14**
The rest of the week is much the same. Isak trudges through life, permanently tired and with a headache that seems to get worse everyday.
“So this guy in my Norwegian, Mahdi, said there’s a party on Friday. We should go.”
“Tomorrow?” Jonas nods and Isak resists the urge to roll his eyes. Barely a week in and Jonas is already getting invited to parties. “Am I even invited?”
“Well it’s not _his_ party, it’s some rich ’97 guy’s, but I’m pretty sure anyone can go.”
“Is Eva going?”
“No.” Isak, surprised, waits for an elaboration.
“Oh?”
“She’s hanging out with some new friends that day. Oh my god, she does not shut up about them!” Isak is about to mention that she can’t have known them for more than four days, and thus can’t have talked about them _that_ much, when Jonas takes a deep breath, signalling – almost comically – that he’s about to launch into a rant. Isak cuts him off.
“Well, at least she has new friends. Even if you don’t like them, that fine. You don’t have to hang out with them. But since Sara and Ingrid, she hasn’t really hung out with anyone other than you, and as cool as that is, it’s probably not, I don’t know, healthy? I mean, you don’t wanna get sick of each other,” he jokes.
Jonas seems to think about this for a while as they walk. Eventually he sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m being kind of selfish.” Then, “damn bro, when did you get so deep?”
“I don’t know, I’ve been writing this essay on _A Doll’s House_ and I’d hate to see you turn into that Torvald guy. Not that Eva would put up with that crap.”
Jonas laughs and nods. “You should be an agony aunt or something.”
“What the fuck!? What’s an agony aunt?”
“You know, one of those people who you write to for advice on like relationships and stuff, and then they answer in a magazine.”
“Sounds like Yahoo Answers.” They both laugh.
“Yeah I guess, I don’t know.” |
8fa306b0bac74a5495e73b869251cfdf | ['986f7b1385cb44dc85a40d5be749c0f4'] |
Bite me gently
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Please note that this is **by no means** a sequel to _LINK_ by MotionlessMuse! It’s just a fiction of this lovely story that I love so much :’) You know, a fic of a fic, fic-ception...yeah. So you have to read it first~♡
>
> And Pia herself was also the one who helped me fixing all of the mess I've caused here in this fic, so, love you Pia! ♡
>
> Let me know what do you think ^^
It’s already been a year after all the surprising events happened in his life and Jungkook has no more trouble adapting to them, hasn’t had any for a long time now since his new life kind of trickles away in an extraordinarily slow pace, a lot slower than his past life.
Yes, he still has conflicted feelings about sucking someone else’s blood - Yoongi’s patient’s blood, to be more specific - and he hasn’t gotten used to it yet, although he doesn’t have any problems doing it with Jimin.
He doesn’t mind it at all, not one bit. He does it gladly, actually.
Doing it with Jimin never once gives him a bad impression. Even the first time he had planted his fangs into Jimin’s soft, sensitive skin it has shot him with a vibrant, fascinating and tingling feeling. Every time he bites Jimin, even now, he always feels dizzy and lightheaded but not in the bad way, not in the slightest. It’s completely the opposite.
Honestly, somehow he really likes the feeling.
Of course, Jungkook can easily choose to feed of those patient’s blood whenever he starts to get thirsty, still does that once in a while when he’s at the clinic and it’s urgent — he just couldn’t forget to tell Yoongi beforehand or else the pale man would grumble for an hour or two, _“Would it kill you to just tell me first instead of just barge in like that with red eyes? Kids these days…’’_ — but he chooses the other choice, the only option he willingly and happily always chooses.
Right now his eyes have a tinge of red in them even though he’s not that thirsty yet, but Jungkook immediately flies away and leaves poor Seokjin alone with all the chores they had been doing since morning without telling him and searches for Jimin.
He can say he’s totally fine with everything right now, with how things are, however there is one thing he still finds hard to just let it slide like it’s nothing.
In fact, it’s really nothing, but somewhere deep down inside him, the darker, ugly, possessive side of Jungkook thinks otherwise.
Jungkook finally finds Jimin, as he always does, in the living room with Hoseok and Taehyung. The The trio is playing a game when he pokes his head inside the room, much too focused to notice that he is there. Hoseok sits on the floor, leaning his back to the sofa, while Taehyung and Jimin are sitting on said sofa together.
Taehyung’s playing against Hoseok while Jimin keeps cheering for either of them, comfortably half snuggling and half leaning on Taehyung.
That’s what makes Jungkook narrow his eyes.
He knows, hell, everyone in the coven knows, that Taehyung and Jimin are best friends. It’s an obvious unspoken fact that they are each other’s dearest and closest friend and they would always be. No one can destroy or ruin their relationship. No one.
Jungkook has nothing against Taehyung - oh come on, nobody can dislike Taehyung even if they tried - he just doesn’t like the way these two pleasantly gravitate toward each other like it’s the most normal and natural thing to do. (Though Hoseok is with them most of the time, Jungkook’s mind automatically cuts him out of the picture)
Sometimes he just really can’t help it, can’t control his train of thought from wandering back and forth when he’s wasn’t with them yet, to when Jungkook was just nobody, still just a normal teenager and not a part of Jimin’s life. How close had the two of them been when he had not been around?
He can’t help himself but wonder and doesn’t like it at all.
Okay, he knows he’s overthinking. They’re just friends. Best friends. Nothing more than that, while he and Jimin are more than that. So he should just stop thinking about these nonsensical things already.
But the truth is it’s easier said than done and he’s still struggling with his feelings.
He really likes Taehyung a lot and things of the older guy as his real hyung —just like he did the other elder members of the coven minus Jimin, because he hadn’t really seen him as his hyung since the beginning— so he hates to feel like this. His brows furrow, fists tighten, and he tries to banish those thoughts away.
Damn, just stop, Jungkook, stop.
As if sensing his intense gaze on him, Jimin finally turns to look his way and smiles brightly when he spots Jungkook awkwardly standing there, eyes and nose scrunching in a ridiculously adorable way. Jungkook melts a little.
“Hey,” Jimin greets with a smile.
Jungkook greets back, his eyes softening, “Hey.”
Jimin’s about to ask him something when he sees the red glint in Jungkook’s eyes and realization hits him. He gasps and practically leaps to him in the blink of an eye.
“You okay?” He takes Jungkook’s hand into his much smaller one and leads them away. Jungkook sees Taehyung glance their way for a second before returning his focus to the TV, not needing to ask to know where they are going.
Only by his touch, skin on skin, Jungkook already calms down. He has no idea why, it just happens, and those unnecessary thoughts finally disappear, for now. | 5f71a1e329314ed7b95f3cbe776e31f2 | ['986f7b1385cb44dc85a40d5be749c0f4'] | “Yes you're my only girl 너는 내게 최고~ Ah. This feels so good, I think I haven’t gone anywhere with just Kookie for so long. I couldn’t even remember when was the last time we went to eat something together. Just us. Eventhough I love Taetae, Kookie is still the maknae Jiminie hyung loves the most~” Then flashes a quick smile at him before looks back at the front.
Maknae he loves the most?
Okay...Jeon Jungkook. Okay. It’s better than nothing right? Jungkook’s brows furrow yet he has a fond smile adorn his handsome face, secretly curse to himself, this hyung seriously has no idea at all…huh.
“Jiminie hyung babo…”
* * *
Things that Jungkook like the most, if anyone were to ask him, the answer would definitely be the ARMYs, his members from bangtan, BigHit, food, games, probably anime/manhwa, singing and dancing.
Those are of course, true, he doesn’t and won’t deny it.
Still, there is something more, aside from all of those, which he bet not everyone knows. They are…everything that is Park Jimin. Jungkook loves all of them.
(Though he’s still hoping that one day Jiminie hyung babo will love him the same way Jungkook loves him…Keep fighting Jeon Jungkook! Sigh.)
**Author's Note:**
> # This fic is also for my lovely Pia ♡
> # You can talk to me here at my twitter @SchoneTier ♡ |
2d5506fe55ce4fb39d9f05e15361a7fb | ['987bbbf0ba5b4d548fc276ababee58b5'] | Iris shuddered again as clumps of rocky snow collected on the ground, and she bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around her own figure, stuffing her next-to-numb hands under her armpits.
"Iris... I'm here to apologize," Killer Frost confessed carefully, as if testing each syllable, and she reached her dead knobby hand out to Iris, and Iris wondered if those were real tears in Frost's eyes. "It's wrong. This is wrong. There are other ways for Savitar to get what he wants. I'm sorry he's going to-"
"He's going to what, kill me?" Iris scorned, her teeth chattering and fury rising in her chest as she glared back at Killer Frost. "I don't know who you are now. But you're not my friend. My friend cared for me - cared for _us,_ for our team. She helped us, offered us solutions. You only offer murder, and hatred. Get out."
Killer Frost's bottom lip quivered, and the ice in the room thickened.
"Listen to me," she entreated, ashamed, "I know who Savitar is..."
Iris glowered at her, forcing herself to stay ready in case this was a trick. "Who is he?"
Frost looked back up at her with shameful eyes. "Trust me... If I tell you, you'll wish I hadn't-"
Iris was blatantly shivering in the face of the raw cold in the room, but she was resolved in anger. "So, what, you're here to intimidate me? Y'know, Caitlin would never have done that-"
"Caitlin isn't here," Frost denounced weakly, willing the snow to stop as she finally noticed Iris's shaking. She held her hands up in surrender. "Iris. You've got to believe me. I have no choice but to do as Savitar says-"
"That's not true. You said you wanted a cure, yet you seem to be in full control of your actions and choices-" Iris persisted, grimacing at the supervillain, "Aligning yourself with Savitar is going to get people hurt-"
"And it's going to get you killed," Frost agreed gravely, nodding.
"That's not the point," Iris rejected, stepping forward to look Killer Frost in the eyes, "There's enough good in you left for you to be in my room, knowing my death is wrong so you're apologizing to me. There should be enough good in you left to know this isn't the right path-"
"I have no path left, Iris. This is who I am now."
"Don't give me that bull," Iris muttered, glowering, "You're a doctor. And an engineer. And a friend-"
"None of _that's_ true," Frost replied flippantly, slipping her hands into his pockets, "I'll be considered a fake in all of your books now. I'll be helping ensure that nobody gets a happy ending. Not Barry, not Cisco... None of them. But you-"
Killer Frost reached a hand up to touch Iris's cheek, and Iris slapped her hand away, a sad look of surprise in the other woman's dark blue eyes.
"I can still feel some of the memories in Caitlin's mind," Frost explained drily as she carefully took Iris's hand in hers, Iris fearfully catching her breath at the gesture.
"Caitlin may have been distant. She may have been cold, and at times selfish, but you were always a constant source of warmth and support in her life. Even now, you're asking me if I want help, even though there's no going back to who this used to be..." - and Iris knew those were real tears in Killer Frost's eyes, because she reached her free hand to wipe drops of ice away from the corners of her eyes, her voice cracking as she spoke - "And I, with whatever lack of morals or 'goodness' or what have you, can still tell that you don't deserve this. So I'm going to tell you something Savitar doesn't want any of you to know."
"And what would that be?"
Killer Frost paused and turned around. She canvassed the room before slowly walking a few steps away to the nightstand by the bed. She picked up the small framed photo of Iris that Barry kept by his bedside, and studied it as she mulled her thoughts over in her head.
"You should leave the city," Frost advised seriously, her voice soft, "I can work Savitar's plans around, if you aren't in the picture. You won't have to die if Savitar can't find you, because he has no use for you, and he'll have to figure something else out. Really, he's only using you to get to Barry - he wouldn't even have _cared_ for you if the Flash wasn't so dependent on you, Iris."
Iris searched Caitlin's face for any signs of dishonesty. "What do you mean?-"
A thin, but kind, smile split across Killer Frost's lips as she turned around to face Iris.
"It means I'm offering you safety, if you're willing to trust me."
* * *
**So, what'd you think? :D**
**Do you think Killer Frost means well?**
**Or do you think she's lying in order to advance a secret - and more evil - plan of hers, meant to secure Iris's death now that she's won her trust?**
**(If you know me and my writing well enough, you'll probably be able to tell where I'm going with this...)**
**Please leave a message with your thoughts on your way out! I'd love to hear your opinions! :)**
**Till next time,**
**\- DBV** | 7d18e7af09774c66b143b9fb64a5532f | ['987bbbf0ba5b4d548fc276ababee58b5'] | "God pray that the Flash takes him down," Iris contended, munching on her popcorn, "I've been waiting for this movie for weeks."
"Guys - I'm serious." I pushed, "A small, cramped theater is _not_ the most escapable place if something happens. We're a room full of victims."
"So long as _you're_ here to beat them up again for us, we'll be fine," Eddie joked, "Just relax. It won't happen."
I gruffed, but obeyed Eddie. Didn't they get how much potential danger we were in? How could they be so sure we were safe?
What if - what if the yellow speedster showed up?
Barry sat down beside me, and leaned in towards me.
"Hey," he whispered, "It hasn't been the easiest week in the world for you, I'll admit that. But don't worry. We're safe."
"What - does the theater have a special metahuman security force on standby in case Andrew Thompson - or someone worse - decides to barge in?" I mocked, "We're sitting ducks, Barry."
He shook his head and put a hand gently on my wrist, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"Just have a little faith in the Flash, alright?" he asked, with a small, reassuring smile. My fear quelled a little, but of course, it's too strong for its own good.
"What if he's not there? What if we just got lucky those other times when he _did_ show up?"
"Then - then just have a little faith in me, instead?"
"Why? Are you going to, like, protect me, or something?" I asked, trying to hide a disbelieving laugh.
"If the situation came up, yes. Yes, I would."
I tried to imagine one of the side doors exploding, and some scary metahuman monster prancing in, people panicking around us with the movie playing in the background. Tall, skinny Barry would play hero, and try to fight the metahuman, with me cowering behind him.
My mind couldn't wrap around the image.
Truth be told - I could imagine it with a lot more ease if Barry and I had switched roles, and if I was his protector.
"Barry?"
"Mmm?"
"You're a dork."
I saw a smile appear on his face in the light of the theater screen.
"Thanks."
Someone shushed us, and I sighed. Previews rolled for other cheesy romance flicks, and the feature finally came on - depicting a geeky, but pretty, blonde woman, played by Olivia Childe, discussing a move to Venice on the phone. I rolled my eyes and accepted my fate watching this latest installment of Typical Romance Movie, until about fifteen minutes in, I realized I had eaten all of my popcorn and finished my drink. To my right, Eddie was looking bored and unamused.
"Hey Eddie?" I whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Can I have your drink? If you don't want to finish it?"
Eddie gave a half shrug and handed me his container, the contents completely untouched. The movie on the screen passed, and the young woman finally moved to Venice, and was struggling in adjusting to life there, until Chad Pitt - sorry, Romeo - arrived, and offered to help.
I sighed once more, and sank in my seat as the plot continued. This movie had no allure to me, and was completely corny. I continued sipping Eddie's drink to distract myself. Barry looked as if he could fall asleep at any moment, and Eddie seemed just as disinterested as I was. Out of the four of us, only Iris appeared to be invested in the movie. Onscreen, Romeo has finally managed to woo the American immigrant, and has whisked her off to what is probably his bedroom. That soon already?
This isn't something I want to watch with two men seated on either side of me.
Actually, this isn't something I want to watch _period._
I tapped Barry's arm, startling him of any drowsiness.
"Can I fake my seizure now?" I hissed.
"What?"
"We should leave. _Now_ ," I whispered sternly. On the movie screen, the camera zoomed in as Chad Pitt peeled off his shirt, focusing on his perfect abs. Barry cringed.
"Yeah, let's go," he agreed, leaning across from me to get Eddie's attention, "Hey - we're getting more snacks. We'll be right back."
Eddie nodded at us pitifully, and we took it as our cue to exit the theater, just as the nude, smoochy, awkward stuff ensued on screen.
"We're not actually going back, right?" I asked with a nervous laugh, once we had left the theater behind us and found ourselves in the lobby.
"No. No we aren't," Barry answered with a dutiful nod.
"Yeah, well, I honestly wouldn't have minded a metahuman attack back in there."
"Hey," he called, giving me his cool grin, "Who said Iris gets to have all the fun tonight? You get us some more popcorn - I've got something to do."
And with that, Barry turned and left me in the lobby with a request for more popcorn. I rolled my eyes in exasperation for how anticlimatic tonight was playing out, and sat down at a table with my refilled large bucket of popcorn, when Barry returned a few minutes later.
"Awesome. Ready to go back?" He asked, gesturing with a thumb towards the theater we just left.
"Not really," I said, slumping down onto the table, "I'd rather just sit here than let my brain rot with that garbage."
"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Barry said, smiling brighter at me. He pulled me up by the arm, "Come on."
"Barry - what?"
Barry took me to a different wing of the theater, swarmed with another crowd of moviegoers, and handed the usher two tickets.
"You two enjoy your date," the usher stated, ripping the tickets in half and handing the stubs back to us.
"Oh - we're not dating," Barry responded quickly. |
f91340d816044c2388cf5bdb4aa81bfe | ['9885625b82e44803be5abdd60fa29e62'] | new
Harry made sure to get to class early, because it was his very first day and he was excited and he didn't want to miss anything.
(He was a _wizard_! Fancy that!)
Different bottles lined the walls of the poorly-lit room. It was filled with a strange odor, too, but Harry assumed that not all potions would be the equivalent of butterflies and rainbows.
One man stood in the back corner, perusing a well-worn book with an impressive scowl on his face.
“Um, Mr. Snape, sir?” Harry asked hesitantly.
The man looked up, and his scowl only deepened. “Harry Potter, I presume,” he sneered. “It's _Professor_ Snape to you.”
“Sorry, Professor Snape, I just had a few questions --”
“Already dithering about before class has even begun. My, _Potter_ , you're setting a precedent.”
“Professor --”
“I suppose you wanted to receive an advantage over your peers? I can assure you, _Potter_ , you'll get nothing of the sort.”
“Professor --”
“And if --”
Harry interrupted, softly but sternly. “ _Professor_ , if you'll please listen.”
“ _What_?” The man spat. “And make it quick.”
“I was going over the texts this morning, and --”
“Waiting until the day before? Shame,” his professor sneered. “I cannot excuse your incompetence --”
“ _And as it was the first day I had access to the material_ ,” Harry continued evenly, “I realized that the beginning levels left some questions for anyone that would not be coming from a wizarding background.”
Professor Snape looked down on him. “First day? Potter, just because you --”
Harry fought a sigh. “Sir, with all due respect, it was only a week ago that I discovered I was a wizard, and as soon as I was able to buy my classbooks, they were taken and locked away. I just wanted to ask _why_ a pewter cauldron rather than the others and _why_ it's important to not cast while brewing. I couldn't find those answers in the book, which I only gained access to _this morning_. You're Hogwarts’ resident Potions Master and I'm a new student, and I'd really appreciate it if the next seven years didn't progress as the last two minutes.”
The professor held himself rather stiffly, but when he spoke next his tone was marginally less antagonistic. “Pewter is most affordable, easiest to clean, and the combination alloy helps to prevent cross-contamination. For your second question, it is inadvisable for beginners to use their wand while tampering with highly sensitive and sometimes volatile ingredients, though not impossible for more advanced students.”
Harry smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”
**Author's Note:**
> I know it's stupid but I just have such??? a thing??? for snape talking over harry and harry just being like bitch no | bb763d250aca485fade32090b38a6bbe | ['9885625b82e44803be5abdd60fa29e62'] | “I’ll help,” repeated Harry. “Show me your research. I’ll find a way to get you out without possessing anyone, or whatever _this_ is, and you can leave Luna alone.”
Luna-Riddle glared at him.
Harry inwardly smiled victoriously.
.
He was very quickly regretting his so-called victory.
“From what I understand, you leech away a person’s life force,” _like a parasite,_ Harry said. “Because you won’t tell me what you are, I have an incredibly limited amount of information, and you… probably won’t like my solution.”
“Tell me.”
.
“Not an option.”
“If you won’t tell me what you are, it’s the _only option.”_
_“Not. An. Option.”_
.
**_I hate you,_ ** Riddle wrote.
_If Luna and I keep passing the diary between us, you should be able to steal enough strength within the week without causing permanent damage._
**_She doodles, Harry._ **
_Yes, I’ve seen them. They’re very nice._
**_I can’t sleep._ **
_Well, if you would have told me what exactly you are, we might have found another option._
**_I hate you._ **
.
_You don’t hate us,_ Luna wrote beside a half-drawn peony.
**_If you call me ‘lonely’ again, I swear I’ll —_ **
_I wasn’t going to say that. You don’t hate us because we understand you._
**_I’m sure Binns is saying something much more important than this conversation, right now._ **
_You don’t like to hear that you’re not the only one._
**_You don’t know what you’re talking about, girl._ **
_It’s okay. I understand that, too._
_._
The ritual to humanise Riddle was simple.
_Stand back and try not to die._
.
Harry and Luna both felt the pull on their magic, seeping out of them and into the unassuming diary on the floor. A shadow of a figure — less real than a ghost — slipped from between the pages.
It rose in front of them, strong, more alive by the second; Harry began to feel lightheaded, and for a single, terrible moment, realised that _his darkness might come out._
Riddle’s materialisation didn’t slow as the two weakened; instead, it seemed to speed up, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat —
Riddle smiled.
It was a smile he’d grown used to seeing on Luna’s face, he realised, Luna’s expression on different features.
_Had it really all been Riddle?_
The young Dark Lord watched them with dark eyes, then blinked twice.
“You’re not dead,” he said, sounding surprised. He stepped smoothly off the pages, fully tangible, Slytherin robes intact; his frame towered over Harry’s own, who barely refrained from stepping backwards. He was so used to _Luna_ —
“That’s not very nice,” Luna said.
_Luna._
For the first time in weeks, it was her, _all her_ —
Harry fiercely pulled the blonde into a tight hug, not unlike the one he’d shared with Draco all those weeks ago.
“Touching,” Riddle drawled, and Harry had never wanted to hit someone quite so much.
.
“I’m sorry,” Ginny told Luna remorsefully, eyes wet. Harry stood beside them, wand in his palm, because he’d _just gotten her back_ and he was _not_ about to lose his first friend again. “So, so, _so_ sorry.”
“You were cruel,” Luna said lightly. “But I accept your apology. Thank you. Would you like help in Herbology? You seemed awfully confused —”
And that was that, Harry supposed.
.
Hermione, surprisingly, was the one who brought the Weasley twins to apologise.
“We were wrong —”
“We really didn’t know what the spells would do, we would _never_ —”
“You’re justifying again,” Hermione said. They swallowed.
“You’re right,” Fred said. “We... what we did was inexcusable.”
“We’ll never be able to make it up to you.”
“We don’t ask you to forgive us —”
“— but know what we’re both glad you’re okay.”
“Well, as okay as you can be after _that,”_ Fred amended.
“Whatever we can do —”
“— if you ever need _anything_ —”
“— not that you’ll even want us around, trust me, we understand —”
Hermione coughed pointedly.
“Anyway,” George said awkwardly, eyes wet. “We’re sorry.”
“Apology received,” said Harry, crooking a grin at them, because okay, maybe he still liked them a _little,_ even after they literally ripped his skin off. “Acceptance pending.”
He’d spent years being decent to people who actively hated his guts. What was that compared to a little accidental torture?
.
“You’re _actually_ sick in the head,” Riddle said disbelievingly. They were alone in Harry’s dorm; Harry sat cross-legged on his bed while the young Dark Lord was perched on his chair.
Harry shrugged. _“They_ didn’t go after Luna.”
_“Sick,”_ Riddle repeated. Harry waved him off.
“Where are you going to go this summer?” Harry asked.
“Here and there, perhaps, doing this and that.”
“What do you plan to do with the diary?”
Riddle gave him a curious look. “I’m not tied to it anymore. I don’t particularly care either way.”
“Can I have it?”
“If you want it.” Riddle took the black diary from his pocket and handed it to Harry, who held it gently.
“So much history for a book of blank pages,” Harry mused.
“Fifty years’ worth,” said Riddle. His voice was tinged with something Harry couldn’t recognize; it sounded sad, almost. “But it’s empty, now.”
_Empty,_ Harry thought. A telling word choice.
.
It was the last day of his second year.
“Harry!” Draco called out, because it was indecent to run up to a friend in public, but forcing them to slow down themselves was acceptable. “You’re going to write me.”
“Thanks for asking.”
“Well, you were going to anyway, weren’t you?”
Yes, Harry supposed he was.
.
Harry had twenty minutes before the train left.
Better incant quickly, he thought, and kneeled next to the Headmaster’s chair.
Twelve minutes later, it was done. Satisfaction curled in his gut.
Once curse put into place. Two potions to go.
He couldn’t _wait_ for next year.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> if my relationships seem forced that's because they are
>
> ALSO because people were confused: Ginny had the diary after Harry and that's how Tom started petrifying people, cuz he's a bit of an asshole, but then Ginny was a dick to Luna and then (spoilers) and then Tom possesses Luna
>
> **Edit 4/17/19:** i am so so so sorry life kind of Happened and i haven't updated recently but!!! fingers crossed youll get another chapter soon when i get my shit together
> tysm for reading!!! |
3bc47d67d9a14c6f93376e52f76a9ed5 | ['98965d4fafd045aaaa5a6cc8a5aa4f8a'] | The two shared one last kiss before drifting off to sleep in the bed they had spent so many platonic nights. No longer a place of fun among friends but a place of love among soulmates.
2. Sweet as Sugar
Amai’s tongue danced with her senpai, taking in the minty flavour of his tongue. Her hands wandered around his bare chest and caressed his smooth, slim torso like she was handling a new born kitten.
“Senpai~” she mumbled between kisses.
The two had been going steady for about a month following her confession to him under the cherry tree. There had been some kisses and contact between them here and there but until this day, nothing that could be considered sexual.
Amai had a reputation for being a very kind and innocent girl with a love for cooking and helping those in need. Of course, Amai was only human and had urges that every other person had that often drive her to the brink; she masturbated regularly to help quell her raging hormones but was otherwise a virgin through and through. She dreaded to think what her beloved senpai would think when she held such lurid fantasies so she refrained from asking him to pop her cherry until she could no longer take it.
“Senpai...” she had started while the two were preparing a cake in the Cooking Club, everyone else had already left.
“What is it, honey?” he replied.
“Um, you love me, don’t you?”
“Of course! Why, what’s the matter?”
“Do you- would you like to, you know... do it?”
Senpai’s face became as red as the cake mix he was mixing, “OH! Um, I mean, I’d love to! If you’re comfortable.”
She grinned in relief, “Are you a virgin, Senpai?”
“Yes, I am.”
“So am I,” she reached out and caressed his cheek, “We’ll be each other’s first.”
The pair gazed silently, finally they would take the final step in their relationship.
“Come on,” Amai said, “Let’s finish this cake and go home? My parents are away~” she drawled.
Amai’s hands made their way down to Taro’s cock peeking out of the fly of his boxers. It was hard as steel, sensitive to the touch. She made a loose fist around it and timidly began to rub it up and down.
Taro drew in a sharp breath, “Amai...”
Noting his enjoyment, Amai pulled his boxers down to his knees and released his penis from its fabric prison. Her pace grew with her confidence.
“Amai!”
Taro grabbed her shoulders, making her release her grip, “God, I want to be inside you so badly!”
Amai’s gentle demeanour returned, she gave a nod and removed her bra and underwear, her curvy frame in full display.
She laid on her side on the bed, anticipating what was coming next. Taro guided his cock to her pussy.
“Be gentle, Senpai.”
“Of course.”
Taro slowly pushed the tip of his penis into her virgin folds, causing her to make a pained gasp.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered, “I’m alright. It’s okay, since it’s you.”
He grabbed her thick thigh for support as he began to thrust in and out. The pain that Amai began to disappear and was replaced by pure pleasure.
“Oh my! Yes!”
Their laboured breathing and moaning filled the room as the duo became one.
“Amai! I’m about to...!”
“Me too!”
Shockwaves shuddered through Amai’s body as her orgasm enveloped her, “SENPAI!”
“AMAI!” Taro pulled his penis out and shot his warm cum out onto her stomach. After several seconds of panting, he regained himself and let go of her thigh.
Amai scooped up some of the semen from her belly and examined it between her fingers. After some hesitation she licked it and analysed its flavour; quite salty, needs some sugar.
“That felt amazing, Senpai... Senpai?”
She glanced over at his prone form and realised that he was fast asleep. She giggled to herself and cuddled up to him, she needed to get up early anyway. The only thing that would top their lovemaking was the breakfast she was going to cook for them in the morning.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> That’s Amai done. Let me know what you thought.
3. A Different Kind of Acting
Kizana had a reputation of a snobby primadonna, an unobtainable princess who scoffed at those lower than her. When she confessed to Taro under the cherry tree that Friday he wondered why he accepted.
“You like these?” This was why.
Kizana’s bountiful orbs of flesh bounced as her hips swayed side to side. Her shirt was wide open which allowed her huge breasts to run wild and free.
“Yeah...” stuttered Taro, “They’re real nice.”
A giggle escaped Kizana’s lips, “Consider yourself lucky, darling; not many boys get to see these!”
Her blushed cheeks were a similar colour to her supple nipples, she pinched them between her fingers until they were completely solid. The stage lights of the Drama Club glared down on the both of them, thankfully everyone by then had left for home so their chances of being caught were quite slim.
“Kizana...” Taro’s trousers tightened as he witnessed this personal striptease, his virgin cock begging for release.
“Hm! Typical, a hormonal teenager losing all sense at the sight of my beauty.”
“I’m sorry-“
“Shh...” she placed a finger on his lips, “It’s quite alright, darling.”
She suddenly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him to the wall, her slender fingers gently rubbing his crotch. She leaned into his ear, “Quite alright, indeed.”
Kizana was many things but something she was not was a virgin. The Bullies loved to talk about how much of a slut she was behind her back but she paid them no mind, after all, she needed some relief from the stresses of running a club and acting every once in a while. | 6864ad1ea2094c8495c3f30283a6dbe1 | ['98965d4fafd045aaaa5a6cc8a5aa4f8a'] | Not one to squander some quality time with one of the prettiest girls in school, his new found girlfriend, Taro quickly dropped his trousers and freed his rock hard penis from its constraints.
Licking her lips, Kizana removed her shirts and left her tits bare. Seeing no need to hesitate, she began dragging her tongue across the head of his dick, slobbering as if it were an ice cream on a hot summer day.
“Kizana...”
She gazed up and winked as she took him fully in her mouth. She kissed and sucked with intense vigour, determined to pleasure her newly found beloved. She would let him explore every inch of her gorgeous creamy skin. Speaking of which...
She stopped sucking him off and instead decided to sandwich his cock in between her mammaries, giving him a sensation that most other boys his age could only dream of.
“Well?” she asked in between laboured breaths, “How do you like it?”
“It’s amazing.” he replied, “So good!”
Kizana couldn’t help but snicker; what she liked most about her senpai was just how sweet he was, definitely a step up from her previous boyfriends.
Deciding that it was now time, she ceased the titjob. She rose to her feet, bent over a table, and lifted up her skirt.
“Senpai~” she cooed, “Pleasuring you is fun and all, but don’t you think it would be more fun if it were the both of us?”
Taro gulped, to lose his virginity to such a beautiful girl was surreal to him but he knew he had to seize this opportunity. He nervously treaded over to the woman who was about the change his life.
Staring at her plump, round ass, he pulled down her soaked purple panties to reveal her glistening pussy. He edged his face closer and closer until his nose made contact. Being the considerate boy he was, he felt that he should repay the favour, so he cautiously began to run his tongue against her vagina
“Oh, darling!” Kizana shuddered.
True, he was very inexperienced and sloppy but his enthusiasm just melted her icy heart.
Unable to take anymore, Taro lined his penis with her entrance and thrusted in. Her wet walls enveloped him as she eagerly took in his virgin dick.
“Fuck...” an uncharacteristic curse exited Kizana’s mouth as she was overwhelmed by the euphoric feeling that she had craved for so long.
Taro couldn’t help but moan in turn as his hypersensitive shaft ran in and out of Kizana’s tight hole, the feeling was indescribable, he could only previously imagine what sex felt like from the porn he occasionally indulged in but the real thing trumped whatever idea he previously had.
“Kizana, I’m about to...”
“Pull out!”
Complying, Taro pulled his shaft out her cunt. She dropped down to her knees and once again enveloped his cock in her mouth; that was all he could take.
Hot cream shot out of his dick down Kizana’s throat until his balls were absolutely depleted.
Kizana got off of her knees and stared into her beloved’s eyes with her characteristic smirk, “Not bad for a rookie, but you have a lot to learn before you match the prowess of yours truly.”
Taro couldn’t help but smile, Kizana really wasn’t that bad once you got know her and did he ever get to know her.
**Author's Note:**
> All rights reserved. This was pretty fun to write. I’ve considered writing Taro’s first time with all of the YS girls (excluding Hanako) but I’ll see how this story does. Drop a review letting me know if you want me to continue. |
efd9520e13434a70bb10c40c47a920b2 | ['9898aacd16aa4296ada0e663f3feb510'] |
1. Danger or Desire
She noticed him as soon as he walked in. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was that made him stand out. He looked like any other guy in town. Flannel shirt, ball cap, worn out jeans and boots. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was his mouth with full lips and tongue flicking a toothpick around. Maybe it was the way he stared at her, undressing her with his eyes and not giving a rat’s ass if she caught him looking or not. Whatever it was, her body had picked up on it immediately. Whether it was danger or desire, it made her heart race.
Unsurprisingly, he sat alone in the back corner of the restaurant. Jack Donnelly was a loner. He had been ever since they were kids and his folks died. There were all sorts of crazy rumors about him. His solitary nature had only added fuel to the fire. Her daddy always told her to keep away from him, “Don’t you be runnin’ around with Jack Donnelly, Mazie. That boy ain’t right.”
“Hey, Jack. Whatcha want to drink?” she asked. He raked his eyes slowly up her body before answering in his deep, gravelly voice, “Just get me a Coke, hmmm?” “Yeah, okay. You know what you want to eat or do you want me to give you a little longer?” He rolled the toothpick over to the other side and smirked slightly, leaning closer to her. “I know what I want to eat. Problem is, what I want ain’t on the menu.” Mazie felt her cheeks flush as he glanced down between her legs and back up again quickly. “I…I’ll just give you a minute then,” she said and walked away quickly. As creepy and inappropriate as he was, she couldn’t deny the effect he had on her. If she even thought about Jack Donnelly’s plump lips on her like that, she was pretty sure she was going to need some new panties.
She took a deep breath to collect herself, poured a Coke, put on her best smile and walked back out to his table hoping he couldn’t tell he’d affected her. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said as she set his drink down on the table. His face hardened. “Don’t call me “sweetie,” he growled, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh, under the hem of her skirt. “I am _anything_ but sweet.” She glanced around nervously to make sure no one could see them. “What can I get you for supper, Jack?” Her eyes fluttered closed and she bit her bottom lip as he massaged her through her panties. “I already told you what I want, Mazie.” She whimpered quietly, causing the corner of his mouth to tick up into a smirk. “Jack,” she said in a breathy voice. “I have other tables. You’ve got to order or you’ve got to leave.” He immediately withdrew his hand, as if nothing were amiss, leaving her wanting. “Just get me a sliced pork sandwich basket, would ya?” As she walked away to put in his order, she replayed what just happened in her mind. Why hadn’t she stopped him? Slapped him? Screamed? Anything? She knew why. She thought to herself, “I’m definitely going to need new panties.”
2. Break Time
She kept stealing glances at Jack as he ate. More than once she nearly tripped when he licked barbecue sauce from the corner of his mouth. She avoided his table as much as she could while still making sure to give good service. “Would you like anything else, Jack?” she asked as she brought him his check. His eyebrow cocked up and she immediately regretted her choice of words. “As a matter-of-fact, I would, Mazie. I’d really love to have some _pie_ for dessert.” The way he said it, the look in his eyes, she knew he meant it and goddamn if she didn’t want to give him exactly what he wanted. “We close in an hour, why don’t you come back then?” Her voice sounded more nervous than she intended. She almost sounded like a frightened little girl. His nostrils flared and he yanked the waistband of her skirt, pulling her down close enough to growl in her ear. “Yeah, well, you see I don’t want to wait that long.” She looked around, panicking a little, praying no one could see. “You’re going to take a quick break. Get Rosalie over there to cover your section, hmm, and head to the ladies room.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She did as he instructed, talking to Rosalie while he paid his check. Once she knew her tables were covered, she hurried into the restroom. He came in a moment later, bolting the door behind him and immediately grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it hard, causing her to yelp. “You hush, girl. You don’t want anybody to hear you.” He held tight to her hair, his fist against her scalp and steered her to one of the stalls. “Take your drawers off,” he demanded. She reached up under her skirt and slid her panties down around her ankles before stepping out of them. “Give them to me.” She bent down, picked them up from the floor and handed them over. He twirled them in his hand once before shoving them in his pocket. “Stand up on the toilet and put your other foot right there,” he said pointing at the waste bin on the wall. When she did, he hiked her skirt up around her hips, turned his hat around backwards and buried his face in her pussy.
He wasn’t gentle, not that she’d expected him to be. He had as firm of a grip on her ass as she did the top of the stall to keep her balance. His stubble was like sandpaper on the inside of her thighs, scratching her with every movement. He sucked hard on her clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue causing her breath to hitch. He plunged two fingers inside her roughly. “Goddamn, Jack!” she cried. He didn’t pay her any mind, just kept fucking her with his fingers while he ate her like she was the best dessert on the menu. Her knees started to shake and she started to pant as she felt the scorching heat building inside her. She put her hand on the back of his head, pushing him harder against her and bucked her hips up to meet his face. He quickened his pace, moving his tongue at lightning speed, latched tight onto her clit. He added a third finger and fucked her harder and faster. She came hard, unable to hold in her screams. “Ahhh, fuck!” She let out a string of swearing as she came, her whole body shuddering in pleasure. After she stilled, he pulled back and licked his lips. Jack pulled her panties out of his pocket and used them to wipe her juices from his hands and face. “Now that’s what I call a good fuckin’ dessert,” he said and walked out the door.
3. After Hours
The rest of her shift was uneventful. Mazie was looking forward to closing time. She just wanted to get home and get to bed. She replayed what happened with Jack over and over in her mind. She was disgusted at herself, but still completely turned on. She hadn’t really wanted any of it, not at first anyway. She’d gone to the bathroom willingly enough though, hadn’t she? She’d been completely intoxicated by him in the moment. Drunk from the pleasure he was giving her with his fingers in the middle of the dining room. Knowing they could’ve been caught at any moment was strangely exhilarating. “Hello? Earth to Mazie!” She felt heat flooding her cheeks and quickly shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind as she realized the diner manager was talking to her. “I’m sorry, Miss June. What did you say?” Miss June gave her a concerned smile, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that no good Jack Donnelly would it? I saw the way he was lookin’ at you. Like you was a piece of meat or somethin’. You stay away from him. Y’hear me? Anyway, I need to get home early. My oldest girl just called. She’s done broke my dish washer. Got soapy water flooding my kitchen. Can you close up for me? Just leave the deposit in the safe and I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow mornin’.” Mazie nodded. “Yes ma’am. You go on and get home. I’ll handle everything here.”
As soon as the last customer paid and left, she took the money to the back office, counted it out and locked it in the safe. The busboys had cleaned the tables and washed all the dishes. She walked back out to the dining area to turn off the lights and screamed when she saw someone standing just inside the door. The door she knows for a fact she locked before going to the back. “That ain’t no way to greet your favorite customer, Mazie,” Jack drawled. “Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared the shit out of me. How the hell did you get in here? I know good and well that door was locked. Anyway, we’re closed.” He just shrugged and rolled the toothpick in his mouth over to the other side. His eyes were dark, predatory and it frightened her. “What do you want, Jack. You’re scaring me.” He groaned a little and his jaw shivered. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.” He sauntered over to her, fisting his hand in her hair again and trailing his nose up her neck inhaling her scent as if he could smell her fear. His close proximity both frightened her and excited her.
He reached between her legs, sliding his fingers between her folds and feeling how wet she already was. “Mmm, that’s what I thought. That sweet little cunt of yours is dripping for me already.” Her face burned as she flushed half out of embarrassment, half out of anger. She rose a hand to slap him, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her. He laughed darkly. “You want to play rough, do you?” He tightened his grip in her hair, causing her to wince. “Now, girl, you got one chance to say no to me. One. If you don’t say anything, I’m taking that as a yes. Y’understand?” She nodded. He guided her over to one of the booths. “I’m going to fuck you now, Mazie. This is your one chance to say no.” She looked up at him, her eyes half crazed with fear and need. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She was mentally screaming at herself for saying yes. It was as if her brain and her body weren’t communicating properly. She wasn’t really sure he would have stopped even if she did say no.
He grunted and untied the bandana that he wore around his wrist. He used it for a makeshift rope, binding her hands behind her back. He bent her over so her top half was laying on the booth table and kicked her feet apart, spreading her legs. She whimpered as she felt his fingers toying with her again. Rubbing against her clit, sliding inside her. She was moaning when she heard the tell-tale sound of his belt buckle, then zipper being opened. She gasped when he shoved himself inside her roughly. He leaned over her, reaching around her with hand to rub against her clit. “Now, you’re not going to come until I say.” He pounded into her relentlessly while he rubbed her. She whined, feeling helpless, worried about what he would do if she disobeyed. It felt so good though. Despite the rough way he was fucking her, his fingers were surprisingly delicate on her clit, moving her quickly towards an orgasm. She could feel her muscles starting to tighten. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. It wasn’t working. Damn him. When she would start to regain her composure, he would rub her faster and pump harder into her aching pussy. She wanted to come, so badly. “Jack, please.” She was nearly in tears. “Please let me come.” She struggled to free her hands thinking if she could just bite down on her knuckles it would help.
“Shut up, you little slut!” he yelled and smacked her ass with his free hand causing her to lose control. She had denied herself too many times to hold on again. She felt the white hot explosion course through her body. Her body shook and she screamed out unintelligible noises, panting and moaning. Jack growled into her ear, “I told you not to fucking come until I told you to.” She gasped as he pulled her hair, jerking her head back. He took the fingers he’d used to rub her with and shoved them in her mouth. He fucked her harder than she thought possible then. She felt his movements becoming erratic and uncontrolled. The closer he got to coming, the harder he pulled her hair. Finally he came, grunting as his hot come filled her throbbing pussy. She sucked on his fingers, tasting herself there until he finally collapsed on top of her. He pulled out of her, his come dripping out of her and onto the floor. He watched her as he fastened his pants and belt again. “You get that mess cleaned up now. Y’hear?” | b8ebccc540494984b47164c4cb727cb5 | ['9898aacd16aa4296ada0e663f3feb510'] |
Out of Order
Brooklyn in the summertime had always been hot. Even now that air conditioning was a thing, it was still hot, but this summer it was particularly stifling. A heat wave descended on New York, weeks ago and had yet to let up. Everyone was on edge and irritable because of it, which made being around people almost impossible for the former Winter Soldier. He wanted to be the Bucky that Steve remembered, but he was too different. He was someone between the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes, and it was too hot to think about who that was.
When Clint offered up an apartment in the building he owned, Bucky took the offer without much or a second thought. He had no desire to stay in the tower where Stark's A.I. could monitor his every move, and he couldn't bear to wake up from a nightmare to Steve frowning and worrying. Just thinking about it was suffocating. What he hadn't bargained for was how different Clint was at home in Bed-Stuy or how attractive Clint was if you knocked on his door at ass crack of dawn o'clock with a leak in your apartment or trouble with the washers and dryers in the basement.
Bucky sat in the otherwise deserted laundry room, glaring at the timer on the dryer. He was dreading having to take the hot clothes out and fold them, but it was something mundane to do, and kept his mind from wandering. He enjoyed coming in the middle of the night while everyone else slept. Too many people in the room at once made him antsy. With half an hour left, he pulled out a book to pass the time.
He was enjoying the quiet hum of the dryer when someone busted, okay fell, through the door. He knocked his chair over and reached for the handgun tucked under a couple of folded towels in his basket.
“Aw, door.” Clint looked up from where he lay on the floor and gave Bucky a slightly pained smile. “Oh, hey. I didn't think anyone was down here.”
“What the fuck, Clint? I almost shot you.” He tucked the gun away again and reached down to help him up. He was filthy, or his suit was, coated in God knows what. Other than that, he looked relatively unscathed for a change.”
“Gross, huh? I'm not even sure what it is. It's absolutely not from falling into a dumpster though. The Amazing Hawkeye is infinitely cooler than that.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke, giving one of the smiles that made Bucky feel warm and human. Before Bucky could overthink, Clint kicked off his boots and took off his suit piece by piece, promptly throwing them all into an empty washer as Bucky looked on.
“Jesus Christ, Barton. You're a hot mess.” He shook his head, not quite managing to avoid the way his eyes lingered on his abs.
“I'm not a hot mess, Barnes, I'm a spicy disaster.” And then the motherfucker winked at him. What the fuck even was tonight? Bucky couldn't help but laugh. Clint Barton, The Amazing Hawkeye, Avenger, and his landlord, was flirting with him while he stood there in his extremely small underwear.
“Look, you're not exactly as subtle as you think you are. I might act like an idiot...scratch that. I might be an idiot ninety percent of the time, but I'm pretty fucking perceptive. So whatever your thing about me is, it's mutual. Unless I've completely missed the mark and you're actually plotting my murder.” He shrugged and walked over to the dryers, hopping up to sit on one.
Bucky thought about what he said for a second, wondering if he was even allowed to have feelings like this. He did once, back in Russia, and that ended with his brain scrambled and him back on ice. Except he wasn't in Russia anymore. He was his own person again, even if he wasn't entirely sure who that was yet. He crossed the distance between them taking deliberately slow steps, giving himself time to make sure this was what he wanted. Unfortunately for Clint, Bucky's thinking face was unsettlingly similar to his murder face.
“Aw, Buck, no. Nat will kill me if I die in my Black Widow underwear.”
It took everything Bucky had in him to keep a straight face. Barton was the most ridiculous person he'd ever seen, and maybe that's exactly what he needed. When he finally reached him, he watched as a bead of sweat trickled down his chest, following the trail it left up to his collarbone. He was definitely leaving a mark there later.
“You never miss your mark though, do you? Besides, I like spicy.” The way Clint's face moved from worried to relieved to positively beaming had Bucky a little weak in the knees. Clint's smiles, his real smiles were like the sun, warm and bright and comforting.
“No, I guess I don't.” Clint grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him so he was standing between his knees, leaning in so his breath ghosted across Bucky's lips. “How spicy are we talking? Jalapeño? Habanero? Ghost pepper?”
“Barton will you shut up and goddamn kiss me already?”
They met in the middle, mouths grazing tentatively at first before Bucky teased Clint's lips open with his tongue. It started soft and slow neither wanting to push the other too far too fast, when in truth neither one of them wanted anything more than each other at that moment. In the time it took Bucky to thread his fingers into unruly, blond hair, Clint had wrapped his legs around his waist and his hands were beneath his shirt, brushing against his skin. |
b4a51b8f02f44950bd304eaf1739ccfb | ['98b2bd482fb34003a763d34b54052851'] | The day after the gala, Mar had woken early, her feet _still_ aching and blistered from the ridiculous shoes that she'd thrown across her room as soon as she'd gotten in there last night, desperate to have them off her feet. After she'd applied cooling salve to them, and readied herself for the day, she slipped into the main room of the guest suite that they had been allotted, fully expecting to either be the first one up, or to have to deal with hungover Blue Kree who expected her to wait on them, as if it were her fault they felt ill.
She certainly did _not_ expect to emerge from her room to see an enormous bouquet of flowers, in a myriad rainbow of colors, sitting on the dining table. Tanalth was examining them critically, as if they housed a bomb. Mar rolled her eyes, assuming someone had been foolish enough to give a female Kree Accuser flowers, when Tanalth probably wouldn't have the faintest idea that this was meant to be an affectionate gesture. Tanalth's eyes shot to Mar as she stepped closer, though, and she snorted. “Looks like you made a new friend last night, Pink.” She held a note in her hand, snapping it away when Mar, confused, reached for it. “I wonder just what sort of _service_ you provided to merit such a reward?” She looked Mar up and down, her judgmental gaze speaking volumes. Holding the card out of Mar's reach, above her head, she began reading it. Aloud.
'To my new blue-eyed Kree friend who graced me with her company (but not her name) last night at the gala. I enjoyed our discussion, and hope you enjoy my gift, so you will remember me until I get a chance to actually introduce myself.
PS: I hope you see the value in not killing them!'
The flowers, and the reference to her eyes, along with the choice of flowers as a gift.... it had to be from the red-haired man, but why? Mar had been so sure she'd never see him again... Tanalth sneered, crumpling the card up in her hand, her eyes narrowing as Mar's face went red. “Do I need to remind you of appropriate conduct while we are on a diplomatic mission?”
Mar's fists clenched. “No, of course not. I know my duty.”
“Then, since we aren't here to start a _flower nursery_ , “ Tanalth spat the words as if they were obscene, “You won't mind if I put these in the garbage where they belong, with this stupid little note as well?”
Mar sucked in a deep breath. The flowers were _hers_ , by right, and Tanalth knew it. But if Mar protested, who knew what rumors or lies the young Accuser might make up about her conduct here? She forced herself to sound casual. “You may, but if whoever sent them takes offense, it will be down to you to repair things.”
“And just who did send them?” Tanalth demanded. “Who were you becoming 'friendly' enough with that he would send you a gift, but not know your name, nor you his? Unless you both were too _occupied_ for the common courtesy of speech, of course. I don't recall seeing you for very long at the actual gala...”
Mar's blood boiled at the implication. “You- how dare you?! You think I would act so immodestly?”
“Mind who you're speaking to!” Tanalth snarled. “I still outrank you, so remember your place. As for what you might have gotten up to, how would I know? You're a _Pink_. Your standards of decency don't match those of true Blue Kree, everyone knows that.”
Mar had to grind her teeth to keep from retorting. Grabbing the bunch of flowers (big enough to almost conceal her behind them) she stormed from the room, leaving the crumpled card in Tanalth's hand- no way would she get that back, she knew that. Making her way outside to the street, she inhaled several deep breaths of the flowers' scent, letting it distract and calm her, smiling a little as she recalled the beautiful greenhouse she'd seen last night.
Why had her new 'friend' sent her flowers, though? She was so sure she had upset him, asking about his home, so for him to send her a present and hint that he'd like to see her again... It didn't make sense.
Running footsteps sounded, followed by a near-frantic conversation in the bird-like high pitched language of the Shi'ar, and a young man in a servant's uniform nearly ran into Mar, out of breath and looking terrified.
Mar shifted the flowers to one arm and put her hand out to brace him, concerned- was there some sort of emergency? “What's wrong?”
“One of the guests,” the boy panted. “The air-cooling and lighting systems in his room have malfunctioned. They're going haywire, he's unhappy, and I don't know how to fix it! If the Majestor finds out one of the honored guests is out of sorts, we'll all be blamed!”
Mar stood up straight. “I can fix anything. I could help if you want.” After all, she'd _invented_ a large number of similar things, back home- how difficult could it be to fix the Shi'ar version? And if she could prevent this scared boy from getting into trouble, good. She'd be better than him at dealing with a stuck-up noble who thought the world revolved around him, anyway. “Which room is it?”
The boy pointed a shaking hand towards a flight of stairs just across the courtyard. “First door at the top.” | c7c6208cab164d75a48c137f48b6117a | ['98b2bd482fb34003a763d34b54052851'] | She flinched at that. “I never meant to lie. It's just... when we first met, Father and your mother, and Grandfather, just told you that I was Father's child, and I... didn't want you to know the truth about my past. I just wanted to forget about it. And the longer it went on... why would I want to ruin everything by telling you the truth?”
Genis blinked. “Why would knowing you're adopted ruin anything?”
“Because... where I came from, before Titan... it wasn't...”
Genis could see Gamora struggling for words, so he took another gulp of the herbal tea to give her time to think. The grogginess he still felt receded further as he drank, and he felt almost normal. She sighed heavily. “I'm just worried that if I tell you, you really will hate me.”
Genis tugged on her hand, encouraging her to sit beside him on the bed. “Look, whatever it is, it can't be _that_ bad. And I don't think I could ever hate you, no matter what. Regardless of what Drunk Me said.” He was relieved to see her lips twitch in a partial smile. She finally met his gaze, her eyes almost boring into his.
“Are you sure you really want to know?”
A shiver ran down Genis' spine. She seemed so serious, suddenly. _Did_ he want to know whatever she was about to tell him? But her gaze was locked on his, and her hand was trembling in his grasp. It was like she both wanted to tell him, and didn't at the same time. He held her gaze, nodded firmly and squeezed her hand, trying to offer reassurance.
Gamora took a shaky breath. “You know my people were wiped out when I was little. I was actually only a few months old at the time. Thanos was there, or nearby, I never knew why, but he found me...”
The blood drained from Genis' face as Gamora continued speaking. This was _sick_ , all of it. No wonder Gamora never wanted to talk about it, and just wanted to move on with her life now she'd been adopted and was safe!
“...Then obviously Phoebe came along, and that changed things at home, but...” Gamora shrugged. “Now you know.” She was still sitting on the bed, but had drawn her knees up to her chest, her free arm wrapped round them.
Genis' mind was racing from what he'd just learned, but as far as reacting went, there was only one thing he wanted to do now. Setting the cup of tea on the bedside table, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms round Gamora, trying to apologize for his attitude yesterday and comfort her at the same time. She was tense in his embrace at first, then slowly relaxed.
“I'm sorry.” Genis meant it far more this time. “I shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have made you think about any of it.”
She shrugged. “I guess it had to come out sometime. By the way, your father did tell me he'd let it slip that I was adopted, yesterday, but he thought you already knew. In case you were mad at him still.”
It was Genis' turn to shrug. _Was_ he still angry with Mar-Vell? He had no idea. “Uh, speaking of Father, does he know...”
Gamora recovered some of her usual attitude as she rolled her eyes. “If you mean about us being involved, apparently _everyone_ knows. Guess we weren't as secretive as we thought." She flashed a grin a him, laughing when he groaned. "If you meant about last night, then no. Phyla told him that you were sick from something you ate at the market yesterday. So when you get up-”
“No mentioning anything else. Got it.” Genis was relieved, in a way- the last thing he wanted was to argue with his father again, on only their second day here on Xandar.
Gamora visibly made a show of sniffing. “You might want to shower before you come downstairs though, if you don't want anyone to figure out why you were really 'ill'.”
Genis blinked, then subtly sniffed at his own arm. He cringed- he reeked of stale alcohol! “Yeah, I should shower.” He kicked the covers off, then swung his legs out of bed, sitting up. This motion brought him a lot closer to Gamora, his arms still round her, and less than an inch between their upper bodies. Holding her in his arms, on his bed, this close, close enough to hear her breathing and smell her hair... His heartrate picked up, and he looked at her as heat flooded his face. Her blush was not as obvious as his, but it _was_ there. Was she having thoughts as inappropriate as he was, right now? He swallowed hard, unsure if he should let her go and move back, or remain where he was (holding her like this, on his bed, wasn't exactly unpleasant...)
Gamora jerked upright abruptly, scooting away from him, and picking up the half-empty cup of tea, sitting upright now, a respectful distance away from him, clearly trying to will her blush away.
“What-” Genis shut up quickly as he heard footsteps approaching, coming up the stairs. Gamora had to have heard someone coming before he did, hence her rapid moving away from him.
“And maybe next time, you'll listen when I say you shouldn't eat too many spicy pastries!” Gamora said, out of the blue, in an exasperated tone, while raising her eyebrows at him. |
d0bf068a9e41437c9bbaf2fddf5063f8 | ['98b8db10ec9f4711a3d21eaeb3ca4050'] | There was a loud neigh from just beyond the cave's vine covering, reminding Montparnasse why he was there at all. Desperate, he felt around for- arrows! Not perfect, but it would let him climb the tower walls without spending time hunting for a hidden door.
The chamber had a window thrown wide open and, grateful, Montparnasse clambered through and landed, panting, on the floor.
He sighed with relief and took off the satchel, opening it to gaze at the tiara inside.
"Alone at last."
Searing pain split his vision in half and then everything went black.
7. Chapter 7
A man leapt through the tower windows and slammed them shut, tumbling into Jehan's room. He cast his eyes around the room and spotted a frying pan sitting on the stove. He leapt for it, padded up behind him, and cracked it hard across the back of his head. He let out a high cry and hid behind the dress form instinctively. When he peered out behind it, the man was still lying prone on the floor. He edged over to him and prodded gingerly at his head with the pan.
Nothing.
Mother's words in his head rang from earlier and, as a precaution, Jehan turned the man's head with the edge of of the pan and used the handle to lift his upper lip.
Smooth, dull teeth. Jehan frowned, wondering if he'd just hurt the only new person he'd ever seen, and pushed a lock of hair from the man's face. His shoulders slumped and he stared, transfixed, at the severe jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes snapped open, a pretty shade of blue, and Jehan, startled, swung the frying pan at his head again.
Mother would be home any time and Jehan had to get rid of him somehow. He looked around the room until his eyes lit on the old wardrobe.
It was no easy task to fit him in- he was limp, much taller than Jehan, and quite heavy- but the wardrobe doors held fast with a chair propped under the handles.
"Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got a person in my closet." He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, wide-eyed, and couldn't look away. "I’ve got a person in my closet. I’ve got a person in my closet!" He beamed. "Haha! Too weak to handle myself out there, huh, mother? Well… tell that to my frying pan," he laughed as he swung it, narrowly avoiding hitting himself in the head.
The satchel sat behind him, something inside it glistening in the sunlight. Jehan pulled it out- a slim metal circle. Three pointed diamonds sat at the front, surrounded by smaller rubies and sapphires. He admired it, twisting it to catch the light, and put it around his wrist. It hung from his slim arm comically and he let it drop off. He turned, looking at it in the mirror again, and slowly placed it on top of his head.
It was perfect, and Jehan felt something shift somewhere in his chest.
"Jean!"
Mother's cry startled him from his reverie, and he stuffed both the crown and satchel into a nearby jar. "Let down your hair!"
"One moment, Mother!"
"I have a big surprise!"
"Uh, I do too!"
"I bet my surprise is bigger!"
"I... Seriously doubt it," he laughed nervously, quietly enough that she wouldn't hear.
"I brought back parsnips. I’m going to make hazelnut soup for dinner, your favorite. Surprise!" Mother said as she came in.
"Well mother, there’s something I want to tell you-"
"Oh, Jean, you know I hate leaving you after a fight. Especially when I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong."
"Okay, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said earlier-"
"I hope you’re not still talking about the stars."
"Floating lights, and, yes, I’m leading up to that, and-"
Jehan approached the chair as he spoke, ready to reveal the strange man in the wardrobe.
"Because I really thought we dropped the issue, sweetheart."
"No, Mother, I’m just saying, you think I’m not strong enough to handle myself out there."
"Oh, darling, I know you’re not strong enough to handle yourself out there."
"But if you just–"
"Jean, we’re done talking about this–"
"Trust me–"
"Jean–"
"I know what I’m saying–"
He put his hand on the chair, not willing to wait for her.
"Jean–"
"Oh, come on-"
"Enough of the lights, Jean! You are not leaving this tower! Ever!"
Jehan's heart skipped a beat and he let his hand drop from the chair.
Mother sighed, rage dissipating. She dropped into the chair, head in hand.
"Ugh, great. Now I'm the bad guy."
Jehan glanced at his unfinished poem, then the chair.
"All I was going to say, Mother, is... I know what I want for my birthday now," he said softly.
"And what is that."
It wasn't so much a question as an acknowledgement that he'd spoken but Jehan barged forwards anyways.
"New ink. The ink made from the white plants you once brought me."
"Well, that is a very long trip, Jean." She was still irritated, picking her head up enough to glare at him. "Almost three days time."
"I just thought," he managed, "it was a better idea than... stars."
Mother sighed and stood, coming over to where Jehan was standing and trying not to tremble too obviously.
"Ugh. You're sure you'll be alright on your own?"
Jehan hugged her tightly.
"I know I'm safe as long as I'm here."
She kissed his forehead.
"I'll be back in three days time. I love you very much, dear."
"I love you more."
"I love you most." | a57877b7f2b94085b4fd525f765be9c5 | ['98b8db10ec9f4711a3d21eaeb3ca4050'] | There was one empty space Jehan had promised himself years ago, just over the fireplace. It would be his crowning achievement, he knew, and there were countless drafts of the poem scattered through the room. He'd sworn to write it on his eighteenth birthday- the year, he hoped, he'd be able to see the lanterns for himself. That would add a beauty to his perfect poem that no tower view would ever be able to capture.
But who was starting a day early going to hurt?
By the time Mother was due home, Jehan had worn himself weary brushing his hair (and writing, and reading, and playing chess with himself).
"Henri, when is my life actually going to start? Tomorrow, they'll light the lanterns like they do every year on my birthday. What would it be like to be there, to really see them? I'm almost eighteen, Mother might let me go..."
4. Chapter 4
Montparnasse skidded down the steep rooftop feet-first, one hand clutching his bag and the other behind him for balance. Close behind him were Jean-Michel and Christophe, making up what they lacked in speed with grace. It wasn't hard to move from high city roof to high city roof, until they found the one they were looking for. Montparnasse, clinging to a stone parapet, watched an oblivious guard cross the street below him.
His gaze traveled upwards and he was transfixed. The kingdom was spread beneath him like a collection of toys, people bustling about unaware. Beyond the sparkling blue lake laid the thick forest and unexplored mountains.
"I could get used to a view like this," he mused, stepping back.
"Come on!"
Montparnasse could feel the other two glaring daggers.
"I've decided. I want a castle."
"We do this job right and you can buy your own castle," Christophe snarled, yanking Montparnasse back by the collar.
It wasn't a hard job, really. The sun-patterned ceiling tiles were simple enough to lift off, and Montparnasse was light enough that it was easy for the others to lower him directly over the dead prince's delicate crown, sitting on a stand.
One of the guards sneezed loudly.
"Mm. Hay fever?" Montparnasse asked, unable to resist.
"Yeah," the guard laughed, rubbing his nose before- "Hey!"
But Montparnasse was already clambering out onto the roof.
"Can't you picture me in my own castle?" he asked as he ran past Jean-Michel and Christophe. "Because I certainly can. All the things we've seen and it's only eight in the morning! Gentlemen, this is a very big day."
5. Chapter 5
"This is it!" Jehan commented to Henri. "This is a very big day, Henri. I'm finally going to do it! I'm going to ask her."
"Jean! Jean, let down your hair!"
"It's time!" he whispered, giddy, to the kitten perched in the crook of his arm. "Come on, come on!"
"Jean? I'm not getting any younger down here!" Mother called in her sickly sweet sing-song tone that meant she was getting cross.
"Coming, Mother!"
He swung his hair over the hook in the window and let it fall to the ground.
"Hi," he panted as she stepped inside. "Welcome home, Mother."
"Ugh, Jean, how you manage to do that every single day without fail... It looks absolutely exhausting, darling." She placed a hand on his shoulder and caressed his cheek.
"Oh," he laughed breathlessly. "It's nothing."
"Then I don't know why it takes so long!" She laughed as his face fell. "Oh, darling, I'm just teasing."
"Alright." He turned, heart hammering in his chest, to follow her as she strode to the mirror. "So, Mother, as you know, tomorrow is a very big day-"
"Oh, Jean, look at that. You know what I see?" She pulled him to the mirror so they were standing side-by-side. "I see a strong, confident, beautiful young person."
He smiled, flattered, until her face lit with the same mocking glee it always had.
"Oh, look! You're there too." His face fell. "I'm just teasing, stop taking everything so seriously!"
"Okay. So, Mother, as I was saying, tomorrow is-"
"Jean, Mother is feeling a little worn down... Would you sing for me, dear?" she asked as she rubbed her face in the mirror. "Then we'll talk."
"Oh! Of course, Mother." Jehan hurried to fetch the stool, rushing through the song fast enough to render it almost unintelligible.
"Ugh, Jean-"
"So earlier I was saying," he burst in quickly, "tomorrow is a pretty big day and you didn't really respond, so I'm just gonna tell you, it's my birthday! Uh, tada!"
"No, no, no, it can't be. I distinctly remember your birthday being last year." There was that patronizing lilt in her voice again.
"That's the funny thing about birthdays, they're kind of an annual thing."
He sat, looking up at her. "Mother, I’m turning eighteen, and I wanted to ask, uh, what I really want for this birthday… Actually what I really wanted for quite a few birth–want for my birth–"
His cheeks flamed as he fumbled for the words.
"Okay, Jean, please, stop with the mumbling. You know how I feel about the mumbling– blah-blah-blah-blah, it’s very annoying, I’m just teasing, you’re adorable, I love you so much, darling. Ah."
Henri butted against his leg as she walked away
"Agh. I want to see the floating lights!"
"Uh-huh. What?" She turned, clearly not listening.
"Oh. Well, I was hoping you would take me to see the floating lights."
"Oh. You mean the stars."
"That’s the thing. I’ve charted stars for years and they’re always constant– but these–they appear every year on my birthday, Mother, always on my birthday. And I can’t help but feel like they’re… they’re meant for me. I need to see them, Mother, and not just from my window. In person. I have to know what they are." |
fb39bfa494d24788a6c5b71034a30d3a | ['98c042143cc34b099618b530455ddf18'] |
The Years He Gave Her
**Author's Note:**
> Contains sexual situation of a non-graphic nature.
There is darkness in his eyes when he shows up that evening, darkness she has not seen in a very long while. It is the special sort of darkness whose only consort is pain, and her immediate desire is to rob him of it, her world weary traveler who doesn’t want to fight anymore.
She reaches her hand through the space of her iron bars and watches as he backs away, taking both her hearts with him. In all her years he’s never backed away from her, not even in Berlin (when he was aching for a her that didn’t exist. No, in that time he stepped forward. Longed to take her hand when all she wanted to do was take his life.)
Her hand falls, empty, to her side.
“You’re mad,” It isn’t a question. “With me, I gather. What have I done this time?” Her voice is forcefully light, like his breathing that’s too calm and his expression that’s too neutral. He’s too far for her to reach now. The bars of the prison have never felt more constricting than they do at this moment, when they are a physical barrier between her and him. Despite their purpose, that’s never what they’ve been. She’s always stepped right through them when she needs to.
She can’t do that right now.
“Where are we?” She continues, and all he does is stare, the set of is mouth still hard and unyielding. “Doctor? You’re scaring me.”
He is. She’s never seen him like this, certainly not with her. He’s not mad, he’s furious. He looks nothing less than an angry god.
“Whatever I’ve done, I had my reasons.” River’s voice doesn’t shake, but her hand trembles at her side. “And I most likely don’t regret it, so if you’re looking for an apology-“
“How.”
The word is singular, difficult, like ice falling from his lips.
“I’m sorry?”
“How could you not regret it, River?”
She raises her chin, lips parting in question. “It’d be lovely if you’d tell me what I’ve done.”
“I’m alive!” He shouts the words loud enough for her to jump back, and he steps closer, hand closing around the bar of her imprisonment. “And you’re-“ He swallows. She can see the working of his jaw and the tears suddenly sparkling in his eyes and she understands. “Berlin, River.”
She falls silent for a moment before stepping forward, gripping the bar just below his hand. “I never did understand why you were so cross with me over that.” The words she speaks are soft, an easy rhythm that washes over the both of them.
“You don’t understand what you’ve given away.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I think I do. Wasn’t the best experience of my life. Painful, if I do remember correctly.”
“You’re still not getting it.” His voice is dangerously low now, the cadence of his words like she’s only heard once or twice. They are the words of a warrior who has seen far too much death.
“I do.” River presses. “I know what I gave up, my love. And I’d do it again.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
The corner of her mouth turns up. “You weren’t exactly in any condition to stop me.”
Words unspoken bounce in her mind – and whose fault was that- but she’d made her peace with what she couldn’t control a long time ago. Looking at his face, now – with all that rage and none of it directed where it should be – it brings it all back – that he should be mad at her for entirely different reasons.
She’d killed him. Nevermind the bringing him back, because she’d ended his life like it had been nothing and he’d never once hated her for it like he so clearly should have.
Instead, it was this he was cross with her for. Is cross with her for.
“You could have had years, River. Stars and planets and endless things I can’t even begin to explain. You and me, in the TARDIS, the last two. The very last, River. And so old, too. You’re old, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
She’s not wearing the biodampers today. Of course he can see it.
“And you gave that up to save me. I’m not worth that.”
The words are absolutely assured and they twist something inside of her, because he’s never seen it, has he? He’s never seen how he changes people. The Doctor has always had this amazing ability to show people what they were really worth but he’s never been able to see it in himself, and no matter how hard she’s tried she can’t get him to see it.
Maybe there’s nothing more she really wants than to have him see it.
“Amy seemed to have thought differently. And so, my love, do I.”
“I don’t understand.” His words are just as angry and forcefully leveled as they’d been when he’d shown up, as very controlled as his breathing. Each word is a separate entity.
It was what she’d been hoping for.
“Then let me show you.” The corner of her mouth turns up in the smile she sometimes fears will be taken from her one of these days. “Open the cell door. Come on, turn off the alarms. I’ve seen you do it plenty of times.”
He doesn’t question her this time, doesn’t make a show of knowing he hasn’t done it before even though she’s seen him do the very thing he’s doing now – opening the door, disabling the alarms, slipping inside without another word.
River reaches him, crossing the space in an instant and hushing him when he questions her. Her hands cup his cheeks, fingers brushing across his cheekbones.
“Relax,” She speaks, before closing her eyes. | 27292224c83b431ca3d079023e6414a6 | ['98c042143cc34b099618b530455ddf18'] | She’d made him tea and biscuits and hadn’t slept that night. She’d turned on the TV and let him tell her whenever she’d got the father wrong.)
Molly sometimes catches him trying to form the name John instead of Molly but he doesn’t say it, not since that night.
She steps closer to the table. The kitchen is still dark, save for the glowing object and now her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“You don’t have to make conversation, Molly,” Sherlock responds almost immediately, not looking up from his project, which happens to be her phone. He’s scrolling through pages faster than she’d thought her phone could go.
“I’m … not.”
He puts down the mobile with a grin and returns to staring intently at the glowing shape on her table.
“You woke me up. Three times. Don’t you ever-”
He holds up a hand and she sighs, shifting from foot to foot as she waits. He’ll let her talk again eventually. Whether or not he’ll listen is something else entirely.
While she’s waiting she watches the glowing thing and Sherlock.
She doesn’t mind any of these things, not really. When she’d decided on telling him to live here, she’d thought she’d been fairly used to Sherlock Holmes. All those years of him coming into the lab for experiments. Riding crops. Stealing her equipment. The first day she’d met him, it had been her first day on the job. He’d been in the morgue when she’d walked in, and he’d been _dissecting_ someone. Needless to say, she’d run. Screaming. To Lestrade, because obviously someone needed to arrest the crazy man in her morgue dissecting someone.
And _that_ turned out to be one of the more embarrassing days in her life.
“Sleep,” She finishes when Sherlock puts his hand down, but it’s like she thought: he’s not listening to her. He’s staring intently at the bowl –
At the bowl.
Molly’s eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness in the room and the glowing object _is her cooking bowl_.
“Sherlock-“
“Thinking.”
Molly purses her lips and walks around the other side of the room, coming around from behind to see the bowl from the other side, and yes, she’s not going crazy because it’s glowing. She opens her mouth, closes it again, looks at the ceiling and the wall and then the bowl and then Sherlock.
“Sherlock-“
“Thinking, Molly!"
She groans.
“That’s a noise.”
“So is breathing.”
“Well, if you could hold your breath, I’d ask you to do that too.” Sherlock finally turns towards her, though, and his eyes are bright and excited, more than she’s seen in the past three weeks. Molly can’t help but smile in surprise. “Can’t you see what’s happening here?”
“You’re ruining my cooking bowl?”
“Cartilage, Molly! Cartilage!” Sherlock claps his hands together and she jumps again. “And I’ve made it _glow!_ Oh, this is perfect. Have you seen the papers! The case of the glowing man! And I know who did it!” His grin is as wide as ever and she thinks, maybe, this might be the key. Give him the papers and give him the cases and have him solve them without having to leave the flat just yet.
Not that he can –
“Oh, yes, I know. Stop giving me that look. He’ll get away. I’m dead. But I know!”
Something catches up with her finally, now that he’s looking at her. “You used my bowl for glowing cartilage?”
“It’s washable.”
“I bake my Gram’s cookies with that bowl. Snickerdoodles.”
“What’s a snickerdoodle?”
“It’s-” She waves her hand. “Nevermind, Sherlock.” It’s obviously a cartilage cookie now. Somehow, she figures her Gram won’t enjoy the extra spice of dead person in her cookies. She’ll have to buy a new bowl. That’s a shame, she liked that bowl. Then again, she also liked her coat rack, and her beakers, and that one kitchen chair.
“Goodnight. Er, again.”
He doesn’t respond for a second, until he suddenly looks up and nods.
But she’s dealing. It’s working. It has to be, because there’s no other option and she wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d said he trusts her and she’s going to keep it that way, until he has to leave. Until the very last day, because then she’ll really just be like the rest of them – it’ll be like he’s dead, when right now it’s not like that at all.
Right now it’s like she’s finally done something, she’s finally mattered – she’s finally been noticed and it’s important this time, because there are so many people who could have been hurt. She’s helped him to do that, she knows. He’s thanked her, he’s apologized, and he’s kept dead parts in her fridge.
Molly is starting to think that she definitely counts.
Just never as much as John. |
639afa508cea435b9a8811cf338bd68a | ['990c398c106c4328bddfd00b1accd647'] |
Colour
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> So the backstory is when I first started writing ANG I had the headcanon that when J fell into the acid it bleached his hair as well as skin, but was too scared to use it. However, it's proven to be a popular idea, so I've decided to put it back in and it's led to this one-shot. And yes there's also art on the way.
> First time writing J's pov, so no idea how it'll go down, but practice makes perfect so they say.
It's his own fault, really. How did he ever think he could limit himself to just one? One out of the vast array of colours spread out before him, all vying for attention, crying _ me me me _ until he almost has to cover his ears. As if that'd work. He should've waited, thought it through but he was too impatient and it's too late to lament the lack of foresight now.
He's been here for almost an hour...or maybe it's more, or maybe it's less, he can't really remember but he knows it's long enough for the woman to approach him twice now and ask if he's ok. And he isn't, not by a long shot, but that's not what she means and even if it was, he wouldn't be able to tell her. His words don't come out right, tone and pitch changing without his permission and that's on the occasions he _ can _ get them out. Otherwise it's just pointless rambles and hysterical giggling that'd have security on him in seconds if anyone heard it.
And he can't have that, not now, not yet, no matter how entertaining it might be. He's got plans and isn't quite ready for a round of kiss chase with the boys in blue. But that doesn't stop his imagination running away with him and a giggle falls out before he can even stop it.
He claps a hand over his mouth and he doesn't need to look to know the glances he's getting are moving from curious to wary. He can't really blame them, stood as he is with hunched shoulders, twitching limbs and a hood covering the face he's only known for three weeks and still hasn't gotten used to. He needs to make a decision but, just like his words, his thoughts aren't working, either. It's hard to focus when they're busy running off in twenty different directions at once, chasing every fleeting notion that passes through while trying to process a world that his senses can't quite handle.
He smacks the side of his head, hoping the blow will shock his brain into momentary stillness - _come on come on that's a good lad_ \- but he's still stuck with the dilemma of having _so much_ _choice_. He knows it'd be easier just to keep the hair white and it's not that he doesn't like it, but it isn't a colour, more the absence of it, and that's what he really wants; _colour_. Bright, garish, hideous colour to inject some life into the drab landscape. It's all too monochrome and the second he's ready he's going to explode on the scene like a firework and give the city something it’ll _never_ forget!
He scans the shelf one more time, determined to finally _ choose _ and his fingers run across the packets, giving harder taps to the ones he _ really _ likes. Blue green orange purple yellow black- His fingers recoil. Not black. Never black. That's not for him. That belongs to the _ other one _ , the creature made of nighttime and shadows, who feeds on filth and depravity and deals out justice with glowing eyes and sharp claws. Whose pictures litter every inch of his walls and the reason he's even here at all.
And that's when a colour catches his eye and something clicks. Red, the colour of fire and blood and temptation and desire and everything that's wonderfully dangerous. Flowing through the veins of every living thing and looking so beautiful when it spills onto the floor. That's a recent discovery, one made completely by accident and he’s looking forward to seeing it again.
It'd be perfect in this world of grey, a colour that lures people in as it tells them to stay away. It's enough to make him laugh again.
His eyes are shining as he reaches for the packet and that's when something shifts. It's subtle, creeping up his spine and making the back of his head tingle and he looks out the window and there, there it is. There there _ there! _ And everything else is unimportant and forgotten as he runs outside, desperate for a better look.
It lights up the sky, putting the stars and moon to shame and he wants - _ needs _ \- to get closer and his eyes don't leave it as he crosses the street, ignoring car horns and shouts, moving through alleys and turning corners and climbing stairs and ladders until he finally reaches the top, his feet seeming to know the way even as he doesn't. Maybe he came this way before but it was during a lifetime that no longer belongs to him.
His eyes are reluctantly torn away when he has to double over and retch. Even this short jog was too much and he leaves a puddle of lurid yellow on the concrete, speckled with drops of blood. It's better than it was, the hacking cough almost gone now, but he still has a way to go before he's better. Or whatever will pass as better for him now.
He clutches his chest as looks back up. It's alright, it's still there and he moves closer to the edge. This isn't the highest building in the city, not by a long shot and one day he plans to scale the tower that looms over all the others, get as close as he can ever be to that glorious symbol decorating the night sky, but for tonight this'll do because he just wants to _ see it _ and -
If he had to truly describe it, he knows he never could. Not properly. Even if words fell out of his mouth exactly as he intended them to, he wouldn't know which ones to use. It'd be like trying to explain what oxygen feels like. It just...it stirs something deep in him, like being woken from an endless sleep, like he's been lost in the dark his entire life and someone has suddenly switched on a light to guide him home.
He wonders if the other one has seen it. Are they out there now, moving across the city in search of their next victim? Will _ he _ get to meet them? What would he do if he does? Would they even remember him, recognise their handiwork? Or would he be ignored, passed off as collateral damage? Or...has he been forgotten already?
He doesn't think about that. It doesn't matter, because pretty soon they're going to know nothing _ but _ him. And as the cold air hits and makes his eyes sting and the tears roll down his face he can't bear the confinement anymore and strips off the hoodie, letting the wind slam into skin that's still raw and, for a moment he stops breathing because the sensation is too much. But then it passes and starts to soothe, and it eases the pain that's beginning to fade but he suspects may never go completely.
And he keeps watching that light, silence, clarity and calm descending as everything else disappears. This signal is as much for him as the creature, calling him out to play, a siren song that speaks straight to the heart. _ Soon _ he thinks and doesn't realise the whisper has even left his mouth as it's snatched by the breeze. Soon the game will begin and the city will become their playground. The thought makes him smile.
_ Soon. _
LINK | d3af2c75d8264c4ab68652fdbb3fdd5b | ['990c398c106c4328bddfd00b1accd647'] | “They don't deserve you, y’know.” And Joker turned his face to Bruce, locking their eyes. “They never did.”
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_ They deserve better _ , Bruce almost said but managed to hold his tongue, letting Joker help him back onto the mattress before switching the channel. When ABBA started blaring from the speakers, Bruce almost wished he hadn't said anything.
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“Can you at least turn it down?” he begged.
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With several tuts and mutterings about poor music taste, Joker did.
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-
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After a week, Bruce was climbing the walls. Now that he could move without passing out or feeling like a ninety year old, he needed to get out, do something other than lie around, look at something other than mouldy walls and tatty furniture.
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“Alright, Bats, we’re going out!”
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And that sentence could have been uttered by the angels themselves for all the elation it brought. Although it was quickly chased down with a heavy shot of anxiety because the last time they'd walked the streets together they'd almost been caught.
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“Relax, honey,” Joker said, white skin disappearing under a layer of flesh-toned makeup. “You’ve been off the streets for a week and that get up hardly screams billionaire.”
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That was true. In baggy jeans, sweatshirt and baseball cap, stubble now very close to a full beard, Bruce certainly wasn't photoshoot material and in his mind that was a _ good _ thing. Tailored suits and hair gel had always been a necessity, not a preference.
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In much less time than Bruce imagined it possible to apply a full face of makeup, Joker stepped up to him, arms sliding around his waist in a way that was almost routine for them now and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
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“We’re just a couple of old fags heading out for an early evening stroll.”
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Bruce snorted, the taste of lipgloss hitting his tongue, anxiety not alleviated in any way. But, like Joker said, they couldn't hide away forever, no matter how tempting the prospect might be. They just had to be careful.
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His eyes were everywhere as they walked the busy streets, body tight, ready to bolt at any moment and Bruce didn't realise his grip on Joker's hand had tightened until bony fingers squeezed back.
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“If you wanna look suspicious, you're going the right way about it.”
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Bruce took a deep breath - _ relax, Bruce, relax _ \- and forced himself to calm down. He’d never known grocery shopping to cause so much stress. And that's all this was. Just a quick walk to a grocery store - which Bruce would use as an opportunity to buy some decent food for a change - that Joker had done several times that week without bringing a squadron of officers to their door. There was no reason for this time to be any different and he kept telling himself that as every footstep brought them closer to the rest of the population.
__
Joker's suggestion of splitting up in the store to grab whatever they needed didn't appeal but when he insisted it'd get them out of there quicker, Bruce reluctantly agreed. He didn't like having Joker out of his sight but the sooner they got off the streets the happier he'd be.
__
Stuffing the bills Joker handed to him into the pocket of his jeans, Bruce quickly scanned the aisles, throwing whatever he needed into the basket, eyes looking up to the mirrors suspended from the ceiling regularly for any tails. At one point, Bruce thought he'd gained one, a tall guy dressed head to toe in black and he'd almost dropped the basket and dragged Joker out of there. But it was a false alarm and Bruce needed a minute to catch his breath, let his heart settle back into a steady rhythm.
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God, he hoped whatever Joker was buying didn't take long.
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Turned out Joker was already finished by the time Bruce reached the self service checkout. Leaning against the wall behind him, he wiggled his fingers and stuck out his tongue, looking as calm and casual as it was possible to be and seeing him from this distance, skin only a few shades lighter than Bruce’s, in purple pants dark enough to be mistaken for black and hair hidden under the hood of Bruce’s khaki green sweatshirt, he really didn't look like the Joker anyone - including Bruce - knew.
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And the thought that with an enormous amount of luck, this could well be their future together was another of those that felt a little too much to fit into Bruce's head, yet it managed to warm him all the same.
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Joker's eyes narrowed as Bruce approached.
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“Well, now I've gotta know what batty thoughts put _ that _ look on your face.”
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“I'll tell you later,” Bruce said, hand pressing against the small of Joker's back to push him forward.
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The fleeting moment of distraction was gone the moment they stepped back onto the street and by the time they climbed back through the window into what Joker had started referring to as _ their _ apartment - again, too big to fit in Bruce's head just yet - Bruce was ready to collapse from sheer relief alone.
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Joker laughed as he pushed back his hood and dropped his bag into the kitchen counter.
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“Maybe we shoulda gotten you some liquor. Loosen you up a bit.”
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“I don't drink,” Bruce said automatically, pulling off his cap.
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“You and me both, honeybun. And to think people call teetotallers boring.”
__ |
a26f51e8ceea414092cef63e0c2cd405 | ['991569b410174a8dbcdc6833df78a514'] | That's when I notice that he isn't looking at my exact position but next to me... I'm gone again... I'm freaking gone again... My mind goes blank, fear and anger taking over and I do the only thing I can do now. I run... fast... Only stopping when the sound of an arriving text invades my mind.
To Mike
Mate, Where are you? You are forgetting our monthly meeting... Ash
From Mike
Damn! I'll be there in 10! Sorry! Mike!
Arriving at the meeting, Luke was already telling us that Walter, the older man who wanted to go back to his wife, died with a smile on his face, after thanking Luke for being the best friend he could ever wish for in his last days.
"I now have another case. His name is Gregory and he doesn't feel like dying. Not when he hasn't completed his bucket list. If you know there are things on their like performing with The Rolling Stones, climbing on the highest rock in Stonehenge and Skydive... Yeah, it's not going to be easy."
After that Calum told about his time with Brittany and how much he just keeps adoring her. It can't be any cuter than that!
"She is getting better, it's amazing. I took her to an Emblem3 concert, arranged a Meet and Greet for her and her mum, they got along so well, especially her and Wesley, and wanted to help. Besides Wesley asking her to be his girlfriend, they paid for a better treatment. The doctor told us yesterday that she has 70% chance of surviving now instead of 40%. We are having the best time laughing and dancing and she is almost celebrating her 6th birthday. The sad part about it all is that I'm not visible to her anymore on some days... Whenever she went through chemo, I'm there, I'm visible... Whenever she has her good days, I'll be sitting next to her, telling the most fantastic stories in the hope that she will hear them and find me again... I'm sad, yet I'm happy." A small tear rolls over his cheek and we are all heart broken for him.
Ashton smiles and starts telling about the little boy he stays with.
"Gus is doing incredibly well. He is finally adopted by the sweetest family you can imagine. They have a playroom, a music room, an art room all for him. They don't push him into anything and he gets time to develop himself. Like, they don't tell him to call them mum and dad, he doesn't need to hug them if he doesn't want to... I'm still visible to him, so I guess I'm needed to learn him how to trust people, how to handle hurt, grief, fear... That's okay, I love to. His imagination is running wild right now and we are going on the most amazing adventures. It's a blast spending time with that four year old."
Then 4 pairs of eyes turn into my direction.
I tell them literally everything... About Niall flooding the house, painting the office, giggling, bedtime stories, playing games, going to school... I even tell them about Harry, since he is a part of my case too... The odd feelings toward him, how his smile makes my day, but his pout breaks my heart...
"Oh my god", Luke gasps!
"Is it... nooo?!", Calum whispers.
"Good job mate, go for it!", Ash laughs.
"Go for what?", I ask confused.
"That, Mike, is for you to figure out on your own. Let's just hope you make the right decision", Simon says vaguely.
After that Luke and Calum get up, wave at us and leave, only after making me promise that we are going for a lads night out soon.
"Hey Ash, wait up!"
"What's up Mike?"
"Do you remember when you had a case called Louis?"
"Yes, Yes I do! Louis Tomlinson, those were the days! Blowing up bins in the hallways of his school. Yup, he went from little, fragile, bullied boy who wanted to kill himself, to strong, independent and popular."
"Yeah, him... Euhm... I may have met him, cause he is Harry's friend."
"Okaaayyy... What are you trying to tell me Mike?"
"We got talking about you, cause for some reason Louis can see me, like all the time... and he wants to see you again."
"You know that's against the rules right?"
"I know, I told him that you couldn't, that you had a reason to leave, but..."
"It was odd with Louis, he never stopped seeing me, I had to make the decision of leaving him... Should have known that that boy was special."
"Look, I'm all for closure and all... But him seeing me all the time and excepting all of this... Maybe for once we can make an exception. Let's just go see him, he misses you."
" I miss him too... He was the best friend I could ever ask for."
"See? Please?"
"Fine, let's go, but if I don't like this meeting, we are leaving and I will never return to Louis again okay."
"Deal."
Fifteen minutes later we knock on Louis' door, Ash hiding himself behind me, still standing a few feet away.
"Haz, please stop crying. I'll be back in a minute. Just please, stop crying okay", we hear from behind the door. Great, cause I didn't feel guilty enough already for leaving him.
The door opens, revealing a tired looking, feather haired boy.
"Oh, hey Mike... Look, this isn't the right timing. Harry is in here and I'm pretty sure neither of you can handle the situation. That is if he can actually see you today", he rubs his hands over his eyes and yawns.
"Uhm, yeah, look... I'll make it quick... Remember the conversation we had about Ashton?"
"Yeah, I do... How what I wanted wasn't what I needed."
"About that..."
"Hi Lou", Ashton says, walking from behind me, revealing himself to Louis.
"Ash?"
"Yeah... How are you?" | 97a7abf180cb44258c4819bc8fa5de43 | ['991569b410174a8dbcdc6833df78a514'] | When I arrive at Matt's place not much later, I kiss a sleepy Niall on his head and hand him over. Seeing the love in Matt's eyes, that he has for my little man, makes me feel better about my decision of leaving him in someone else's care for a few days. After thanking and saying goodbye to Matt and Ashtyn I drive towards Louis' place. I have no clue what I'm going to say to Louis or how he will react to me freaking out over what is possibly nothing.
Only then do I realize that I never called Louis and that he is my intern... I never really had friends, so can I call Louis my friend? Sure, we spent some time together in the past few days, but does that make us friends... I decide to risk it anyway and knock violently on Louis' door.
"Mate, I have a doorbell you know!", he looks slightly annoyed, but that changes once he takes in the state I'm in.
"I'm sorry, seriously Louis! I'm so so so sorry, for everything... For barging in like this, for being possibly the worst boss you could have, for taking you to a kids film... I know we aren't really friends, but I need someone right now...", I sink down against the wall and just drop my head against the wall, small tears rolling out of my eyes.
"Harry? Mate? What are you on about? What is going on?"
"Louis, today I just realized that I have literally no friends, no one who cares about me, no family, nothing... You are the closest thing I have to a friend, yet I don't dare to make friends, cause everyone I love ends up leaving me, just like Mike", I sniffle and just lie myself down on the floor... I can't move, my vision is blurry and the room feels like it is spinning, my heart beats erratic and I feel like I can't breath. Clutching my chest, I start panicking... I know this feeling all too well, it's me losing myself and I can't have that. Not now, not ever.
"Harry? You are scaring me... Come on, get up. Harry!"
That's the last thing I hear before my world goes black... It's not all black though, the boy in my arms in as colourful as he can be... Pink hair, intense green/brown eyes that light up the room, red lips that pout softly demanding to be kissed. Before I can actually kiss them, the boy laughs, pushes me away and disappears...
"Harry, come on! Wake up!"
My eyes snap open and look around... Suddenly everything that happened before fills my head.
"Sorry about that Louis... I'm not good with emotions..."
"That's okay... You know you are always welcome at my place Harry."
"Really? Why?"
"Cause you are my friend."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I have been working for about half a year now with you, and in that time we have shared our dreams, thoughts, daily situations, fears, we hung out... I care about you and Niall, I trust you a lot. To me that makes you my friend."
"That's not good though, cause everyone that cares about me leaves..."
"I'm not going to leave you Harry. You are my friend and friends stick together. No matter what. You don't always have to be the strong one."
"I do, especially now with Niall... I can't break, I won't..."
"Once in a while you need to break and freak out and go insane. That's the only way to keep your sanity. You've been through so much, you have the right to break."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, anything."
"Don't laugh please."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Can I have a cuddle please?", I don't understand where the need for affection comes from. Knowing that I haven't cuddled anyone in the longest time... I just feel like breaking and I need someone to keep me whole, to keep me from falling.
He scoots closer to me and pulls me on his lap, not even afraid of the physical contact. He wraps his arms around my waist and puts his chin on my head. I tuck my face in the crook of his neck and try to focus on my breathing, but I can't. The green/brown eyes keep invading my mind and I try to figure out where I know them from.
"Harry, can I ask you something?", I hum, letting him know he can continue, "What did you mean with Mike leaving you?"
"Nothing", I push my face closer against his skin, trying to forget about everything that happened before.
"Come on Harry, something must have happened for you to freak out like that."
"I saw him again today."
"That's good. What happened?"
"We talked and then he disappeared again."
"Do you know why?"
"No... But then he started writing notes, so we talked like that."
"Okay, then what..."
"Then we played the game where the floor is lava. It was so much fun Louis..."
"But?"
"I fell", I hesitate...
"And?"
"Then he fell."
"Yes?"
"On top of me", I whisper, almost feeling ashamed of telling him the story.
"So?"
"He told me he kissed me on the cheek and also admitted to kissing me on the lips and then he disappeared again. He left me, Louis."
"You don't know that do you... He might have still been in the room?"
"Nope, I heard the door close", for the first time today, I actually try to fight the tears, but the crack in my voice still betrays me.
"Why do you care so much about Mike?"
"I don't, I don't..."
"Obviously you do Harry... What's going on?" |
bbf9a48130494d5ea5d8edc3e1e5d8ef | ['992c2d974b3e478888ccd8ed66d7c9c8'] | "Says the short and irritable guy from Paris" muttered the redhead before drinking her chocolate milkshake and earning herself a death glare from Levi. He sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue, "So he's moving to Canada and into a small city, big deal. What's so great about it?" He asked.
Isabel and Farlan both looked at each other, like they knew something he didn't, "It's rumored that he's already here, but one thing's for sure is that to celebrate-" the blond haired teen smiled before the girl took over, "-he's gonna have a concert!" Levi just blinked. So that's what they were aftering. They wanted to go to his concert, but it was the first time Levi ever heard of the guy and he's quite picky about songs.
"You guys know I don't like songs like Lady Gaga's or Taylor Swift. I fucking hate those kinds" he warned them, but their grins just kept on widening on their own, "We know, you like songs that has meaning like Christ Daughtry and Nickelback and not songs about fucking or love" Farlan replied to him before taking out his white earphones and placed it inside the whole before giving them to Levi.
"But believe me, he only composed two songs but they're amazing. I love _'My Dear'_ more though" The taller teen said to him while looking through his music library to look for the song. The short, irritable teen just sighed before placing both earphones in his ears. The intro started off with the man singing, his voice was familiar. It was mellow, and was on every tune. His vibrato was also pleasant to hear, combine it with his honey covered voice it sounded rather intoxicating.
_ In this cruel world, you gave me meaning to my life _
_ My own pitiful existence that I hate so much _
_ On your small back, the scattered crimson love's been trembling _
_ The wounds so deep, the scar will never heal again. _
It wasn't even the chorus but Levi was already liking the song so much. It was his kind of shit, and the meanings... They were deep, very deep. Especially the "in this cruel world, you gave me meaning to my life. My own pitiful existence that I hate so much"
Those two sentences were exactly how he felt when he was with his loved ones. He continued listening to the next verse. Both Farlan and Isabel watching his expression expectantly.
_ Beyond the castle walls, so high and mighty there had lived a girl _
_ A victim of her solitude. _
_ I'll come to get her, while escaping death a million times for her _
_ Even if I'll have a sin to bear _
"How do you like it so far?" Isable asked, sipping on her drink as Levi smiled, "It's good, I like it. His voice's, however, sounds oddly familiar" he thought. How deep the voice was, how soft and gentle it sounded.
It was like he had heard of it before but it's actually the first time he had heard of the man, "Maybe you've heard his song on the radio before?" Farlan suggested. The shorter man just shrugged, not knowing anything but kept on listening to the chorus.
_ Both our hands together when we're young _
_ Tried to find the warmth of yours, entangled in distress. _
_ Did you know that promise was a sign for us to stand? _
_ For eternity, the present and our fate _
_ But please just tell me now _
_ Your crying smile and tears behind the mask you wore so long with such despair. _
_ The moon is shining down its light towards your night sky eyes- _
_ And exposed all the agony with empty dreams. _
_"'Behind the mask you wore so long with such despair'_... I like it" Levi said out loud, causing Isabel to smile. Those words held a very deep impact on anyone who had heard of it. People sometimes wore mask to hide their true selves, because they were afraid. Acceptance, uniqueness, betrayal, jealously, anger. Just the few examples of what the human mask can hide underneath a smiling facade.
Levi took out the earphones, knowing full well that the song he was listening was a dark love song and yet... He liked it. Very much so, which was surprising to even himself. He was never one for love songs and yet, here he was listening to his possibly new and favorite singer, listening to a love song.
"Judging from your reaction, I'd say you liked Rouge" Farlan smirked before a waiter arrived and got him another vanilla latte, "Hmph, I'll admit this guy's pretty good. You also said he had another song?" He asked, a bit eager to know what the other was so he could download the songs to his phone.
"Yep, _'My Dear'_ and _'Attitude to Life'_ are the tittles. Both songs are awesome and I heard he made another one especially for the concert alone. Did you know that he played all of the instruments and also sang them in the recording?" Isabel asked, earning a shocked look from the short male. One person playing all instruments? And above all, _sang_?
From the song, _"My Dear"_ , there were at least three violinist, a drummer, a bassist, a guitarist, two keyboardists, and a fucking choir! "Are you saying that the man was a one man choir!?" He founded himself asking Isabel who nodded her head.
Now that's what he call dedication. He's a master at those instruments, so does that means he's old? If he had mastered those instruments then he must be right? But he sounded like he's still in his early teens, "He's 27 years old" Farlan replied, answering Levi's question with the latter looked surprised on how he found out what he was wondering. | f35e40abe9ae4a3ba30935bc1685863e | ['992c2d974b3e478888ccd8ed66d7c9c8'] | Levi wasn't that surprised when he saw Kuchel watching the new Marvel movie called "Ant-Man" but he had to admit that the name sounded... Retarded. T should've been _"Nano" _of even _"Atom" _not not just because it sounded cool, but it also meant small. Maybe the scientific name for the common ant _"Formicidae" _? That sounded way cooler than ant anyway.______
The woman looked back to see the teen walking towards her before sitting across the table, "Anything good happened?" She asked, the teen just shrugged while crossing his legs together, "Not much but I ended up joining this competition. Farlan said I can get more information from the website so-" Levi looked at his mother with a lot of expectancy as she just stared into his blue-ish silvery orbs, twitching her own sky blue eyes.
Ten seconds has passed, before it turned to thirty and a full minute. They kept on staring at each other, one of the expectantly while the other was glaring, "I'll do all of your job for the next month" no response.
"Levi, dear. You're already doing the chores rather diligently" she smiled at him. They continued on the staring contest, each party was determined and not backing down without a fight.
"I'm home- what are you two doing?" Both parties looked back to see Shikishima was looking at them with curious eyes, "He wants to borrow the laptop, but I don't trust technologies these days. They made children lazy and I don't want that happening to my _Wittle Weevi_ " Kuchel explained, looking at her husband who was just laughing if off while the teen was blushing with a sour expression.
"Mom... Please don't call me that again" he almost begged, but the woman just laughed it off before asking her husband to get the laptop upstairs. No longer than three minutes, footsteps were heard as Shikishima came back with a silver Lenovo U530 laptop, the black modem too as he placed the fine piece of machinery on the table.
"Pinky promise so that you won't turn lazy" he said, extending his right hand with all of his fingers folded except for the little finger. Levi sighed but returned the finger.
_"Yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari senbon nomasu, yubi kitta !"_ he sang the children song so fast that Levi was surprised that he was able to speak that gibberish in a speedy pace, "What the fuck was that?" He asked, he didn't speak Japanese as his father was only a quarter Japanese. He only spoke French and English.
"No rude languages, Levi. I swear that Kenny..." The woman silently cursed her brother who taught her adorable baby boy those rude words.
_"Ore wa nani o itte iru rikai shite imasen, Levi"_ Shikishima spoke. The only word he understood was his name, the others were nonsense as he couldn't understand what she was saying.
"Oh fuck it" he grumbled before turning his attention towards his laptop and turned it on. A password was immediately asked on the screen as his mother typed it in, not before Levi looked the other way. She was obsessed with her privacy.
"So what's this competition about?" She asked after she placed the modem and giving him control of the laptop once again as he went to Google and typed in the URL. Kuchel widened her eyes when she read the address.
"You're entering the AoT drawing competition!?" She half shouted, half asked. Levi looked shocked that even his mother knew what it was, "Son, you mother here is a unfortunately a fan of a singer named Rouge and he's the composer of this show. Enough to make me jealous" Shikshima groaned, looking at his wife who had hearts in her eyes.
He never thought his mother was interested in new music, as most of the songs she sang all the time were Mariah Carrey's and Celine Dion, "Are you interested in the show too, dad? And not because of this Rouge guy?" He asked, Shikishima gave him a questioning look, "Hm... I am quite interested because they do show the history of the Walls" he explained.
Levi slowly nodded as he clicked on the latest news reports. It seemed that he needed to draw picture that had a theme of the title from the album, and one of them may be handpicked by the guy himself.
"I need to have a sketch in my head first meaning: what's the plot line? Where's the set on? Who're the characters? What's the genre? Are there gonna be super powers like Bleach or sh- er, stuff?" He refrained from saying, "Shit" or his mother will wash his mouth with soap.
"Try looking at the Wikipedia" Shikshima explained, clicking on another tab before typing in "Attack on Titan". He clicked on Wikipedia as he read the plot line.
_Attack on Titan is a dark fantasy novel series written and it's artwork in the book illustrated by Armin Arlert. It is set in a world where humanity lives inside cities surrounded by enormous walls as a defense against the Titans, gigantic humanoid creatures that eat humans seemingly without reason._
_The story initially centers on Eren Jäger, his adopted sister Mikasa Ackerman and childhood friend Armin Arlert, who joins the military to fight the Titans after their home town is invaded and Eren's mother is eaten._
_The author initially based the story out of the nightmares that he had recently, he described his nightmare to be "extremely vivid, like they were memories to a past I did not know of"_
_It was this incident that showed him **"the fear of meeting a person I can't communicate with,"** which is the feeling that he conveys through the Titans._
Levi stopped reading. Now he was extremely curious, why did the author included himself in the book he was writing? What caught his attention, however, was their surname name was also present and she was one of the main characters. |
0b5cd3ad35cb4bdeaed06d9abe98b67a | ['993016f8d06340ac8704790adb455567'] |
Trench Coats and Wings
Castiel groaned as he rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand, wishing that he’d left school a bit earlier. It was getting dark and Lucifer would start to worry if he wasn’t home soon. Gabriel, Castiel guessed, was either home or off on his own adventure; he hadn’t seen his older brother leave.
He pulled his coat higher over his shoulders as he stared at the ground, trying to hurry his pace without seeming like he was rushing off somewhere. He knew the school’s bullies were still around this time of day, and he really didn’t want to attract any more attention to himself. Yet, he should have known something was likely to happen as his foot caught on a raised bit of sidewalk, throwing him forward.
A few things happened at once: an aborted, strangled shout escaped his throat and someone else hollered “hey!” as a hand grabbed the collar of his coat. A startled “no!” slipped from his mouth as the coat was yanked off his back. He tried to steady himself by force, but instinct took over and a hidden pair of wings flicked out to help regain his balance.
_It’s okay, it’s fine,_ Castiel tried to tell himself as his eyes shut, feet finally resting firmly on the ground beneath him. _No one can see them anyway, it’s_ fine _. I have nothing to worry about._
“Dude, you have wings!”
Castiel’s eyes shot open as the blood drained from his face. He knew that voice from school. That voice belonged to one of Dekon High’s notorious ‘bad boy’ bullies, one Dean Winchester. _Of course_ Dean could see his wings; _of course,_ he’d see them after he’d inadvertently helped Castiel from falling.
Castiel closed his eyes and wished for all the world that it was not Dean Winchester standing behind him and that he was simply hearing voices. It was late, he’d skipped lunch, he was tired – any excuse as to why he was hearing voices.
“I thought you were just really into trench coats.” It was said with a snicker, but it didn’t feel vicious or heated. Simply amused.
“I, uh,” Castiel turned, biting the inside of his cheek, unsure.
Dean stood there with the coat loosely held in his hand as he stared openly at the two black appendages sticking out from the other boy’s body. Castiel blinked as heat crawled up his neck and he pulled the wings as tight to his back as he could. Dean raised an eyebrow as he turned his gaze to the angel.
“Uh, thanks?”
“Is that a question?” Dean grinned. He held out the jacket. “Here, you can have this back if it makes you feel better.”
Castiel took it, dropping his gaze as he nodded. He shifted on his feet, tempted to put the coat back on, but it seemed a little stupid at this point. He draped it over his arm instead and tried to smile.
“Thanks for saving me. I, uh, I have to go.”
He spun and started walking off, tugging on the coat as he did so. Dean wasn’t a rare case. Castiel had met several people over his lifetime and heard about others from Gabriel and Lucifer, who could see his wings. He really didn’t want a repeat performance.
“Wait!” Dean called, jogging to catch up. “Seriously, you spring those things on me and think you can ditch me like that?”
“I wasn’t--.” Castiel shook his head. “I have to get home. Lucifer doesn’t like us staying out too late.”
“Us? Oh, you and Gabe, then.”
Castiel nodded but said nothing as he stalked down the street. Dean plodded along alongside him, casting curious glances now and again at his back, but saying nothing. Castiel endured it for several long moments before he stopped and glared at the older boy.
“Why are you following me? Going to jump and beat me when it’s dark enough? Going to get your fill so you can run off and tell someone about me? Going to try and touch them to see what they feel like? To see if _I_ can feel it?” Castiel snapped his voice on the edge of a growl and near to the point of breaking. “What. Do. You. Want?”
Dean took a few steps back, putting distance between him and the younger boy. He frowned, trying to figure out what had set him off. He raised his hands slowly, a gesture of surrender.
“Um,” Dean frowned further, “I was actually just going walk you home, or at least part way. Don’t want you tripping again, shit. But, you know, if you’re just going to freak the fuck out, I’ll leave.”
Castiel groaned as Dean spun around and headed back the way they’d come. He huffed and chased after Dean, calling out,
“Dean, wait, I’m sorry!”
“Oh, so you know my name,” Dean snorted, not stopping. He had slowed down a bit, though.
“Everyone knows your name,” Castiel muttered. “You’re one of the hottest guys at school and a well-known bully, so why wouldn’t I know your name. Stupid.”
Dean paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Only one of the hottest guys, huh?”
Castiel’s mouth dropped open as a blush crept up his face. He spluttered, trying to come up with an excuse or something. Of all the things out of that sentence, _of course,_ he’d pick up on the ‘hottest guy’ bit.
“I know of you, Gabe talks about his baby brother fondly, but I don’t think I actually caught your name.”
“Cas.” It came out as a squeak and Castiel ducked his head, clearing his throat. “Castiel. Name’s Castiel.”
“Cas,” Dean hummed, smirking as he watched the angel fidget. “That’s where he gets Cassy from then.”
“ _Cassy_?” Oh, he was going to _murder_ Gabriel when he got home. | 56dc89eb1d154dde8dfd07654d2afef9 | ['993016f8d06340ac8704790adb455567'] | The Words He Couldn't Say
The words would not come. He wanted to make it right, to admit he was wrong, but he couldn’t do it.
Instead, he filled the house with flowers, one of every kind he could find. People liked that sort of thing, didn’t they? Petals filled the spaces on the floor, candles placed where they wouldn’t catch fire. Romantic and probably over the top. The idea of it annoyed him, but this verses saying the words that caught in his throat? He’d take this any day.
He picked up the violin and played soft songs, eyes closed as he lost himself in the music as it filled the living room, covering the soft footsteps that slowly made their way up the stairs. The door creaked open and for a moment, just a moment, he faltered and the notes stuttered before smoothing out again.
“Sherlock.”
His name was said in the near quiet and he stopped, bow perched on the strings unmoving. He did not turn to face the one who called him, afraid he’d still be unable to say the words that so desperately needed to be said.
“Sherlock, look at me.”
He made a strangled sort of noise. The voice was so soft, so understanding instead of being harsh, angry, like it should have been. He turned to stare at the man who stood in the doorway, the arm that held the bow dropping to his side. The violin still sat beneath his chin, though it was mostly forgotten now as he looked, simply looked at John.
John stood there, a confused expression on his face, but all traces of anger were gone. A smile ghosted along his lips but refused to appear. He looked tired like their argument had taken a lot from him, and he thought perhaps it had. It had taken a lot from him as well, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to fix this.
“What is this, Sherlock?” The smile tugged on the edges of his lips, sparking laughter in his eyes.
Sherlock straightened slightly, almost in defense, before sighing. “You know I don’t,” he raised a lip at the unspoken word, trapped. “So, instead…”
He waved his hand around the room as if that was enough of an explanation. Obvious, he wanted to say but didn’t. John wasn’t an idiot, not by any means, but sometimes he did miss things so painfully clear. Sherlock hoped that this wouldn’t be one of those times.
“I’m not angry, Sherlock, I never was.” A giggle tinted his words and Sherlock scrunched his nose. Why would he laugh? “But, I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”
“You’re laughing.”
John rolled his eyes. “Yes, you git. I’m laughing. I was gone, what, an hour, and our flat is filled with flowers.”
“And candles.”
“Yes, Sherlock, and candles.” John shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor so that the taller man couldn’t see the smile. It didn’t last as he moved, closing the space between them. “Come here, you idiot.”
Sherlock smiled tentatively as he dipped his head, allowing John to wrap his hands around his waist, the violin drifting to his side. The doctor placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, wrapping him in a tight hug.
“We really need to work on your vocabulary and how much is too much when it comes to things like this,” John murmured into his chest.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, chuckling. “Not good?” he hummed into the shorter man’s shoulder.
“No,” John rejoined, “Very good.”
He made an appreciative noise. Even if he couldn’t say the actual words, John understood, and that was a brilliant thing indeed. |
b1bc4667cf9b46ce88e77aa14a797fee | ['994c612262e74f269e21c5ea44aecd45'] |
1. Chapter 1
"I'm coming" I said running until I got to them, I had promised that this time I would go out with them because the previous Saturday I did not have time.
"Until finally you arrived, it seemed like an hour passed" Lionel said, it was true that I had delayed but not so much, I was changing.
"Stop exaggerating, Leo, I'm already here" I said smiling looking at him, rolled his eyes so that Gerard then proposed that we go to a nearby beach with our bicycles.
When we arrived, I talked and sang with Gerard while Leo spent his time looking at the water, until we were late and decided to go back to our homes, but before we ate cookies that we bought at the store.
As he was the youngest of the three, they decided to accompany me to my house but when we were close I got distracted and I heard a "Be careful, Ney!" of Gerard when I felt that I fell, and everything went dark while I heard things like "Ney !!", "Are you okay?" accompanied by a scream and the sound of a car braking.
Omnipresent Narrator
Gerard was scared, his friend was on the floor, thrown with some blood on his forehead so I try to reanimate him without success, at first he thought he was playing a joke but the brazilian was really unconscious, so when he saw the Terror and concern Leo, who was frozen, without moving looking at Neymar with tears running down his eyes, asked him to call an ambulance. While Leo grabbed his cell phone and called an ambulance with choking and trembling voice, Gerard went to talk or face the driver of the car that collided with the body of his friend who went out with a girl.
"You're irresponsible, you almost kill him" Gerard said annoyed looking at the embarrassed boy and the annoying girl
"I'm sorry I did not realize ... is he okay?" Replied the boy with concern approaching Neymar's body.
"Of course my friend is very good after receiving a blow from part of his car" Gerard said sarcastically, keeping him from getting closer to Neymar
"I'll call -" Gerard interrupted "Leo already called the ambulance"
"Okay, if you want I can pay for the hospital" He said looking worried at Gerard, who looked at him in a threatening way.
"No ..." Leo said advancing "We will do it, I do not want him to receive anything from you" As the ambulance arrived taking Neymar with Gerard and Leo went to the Brazilian's house to tell the bad news to his family.
"Now what do I do?" Lamented the colombian named James.
"That happens to you as a fool" complained his girlfriend, Daniela.
"Stop blaming me, it was our fault for fighting while I was driving"
"Do not"
"You never accept your mistakes, so I better finish with you at this moment"
"Well I'm glad, I'll look for someone better than you"
2. Wake up, please
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Neymar's family and friends discover that he is in a coma. James does not know him and is already falling in love.
Gerard was very worried in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for the doctor to come out with the results, he tried not to think the worst but remembering the intensity of the shock only made him despair more, he also thought of Leo and how the parents and sister Ney would have reacted, until he saw them arrive, they asked him many questions that he did not know how to answer so they sat next to him looking at the door with the hope that someone would come with good news from there while listening to Rafaella's sobs and seeing the sadness in the eyes of his friend's parents. He did not notice at the beginning but later he noticed that Leo was also there so he approached him but nothing was the same, Leo was sad and cried in silence so as he knew that if Neymar I would see them that way and I would tell them not to do that, try to calm Leo down and not show that he also felt a lot of pain.
Elsewhere James was in a battle between not going to the hospital, he knew which hospital they took the boy he hit but if he went there would only cause problems, he did not even know his name but his appearance had caught his attention.
Suddenly in the hospital, a man with a white coat came out a little worried and looked at them and started talking.
"Family members of Neymar Da Silva Santos Junior?" He asked seriously.
"Yes" His parents, his sister and his two friends answered in an instant.
"I'm sorry to tell you, but he's in a coma although he did not suffer any physical damage but he can wake up with amnesia"
"Do you know when he will wake up?" Gerard asked with a little hope.
"No, but I may do it this week"
"Can I go see it?" Rafaella asked with tears in her eyes.
"Yes, you can go check it out" He said and withdrew.
When the doctor left, Rafaella quickly entered the room where her brother was and when she saw him she began to cry again while she spoke to him trying to get her brother to listen to him. | bd784bf82395419995dc74fad925f829 | ['994c612262e74f269e21c5ea44aecd45'] | —You'd better eat—James interrupted by packing his lunch into a bag, he did not like to eat outside although Kichan and Erik always did, because he had maintained that habit since leaving Colombia, his native country.
—Okay—Kichan, on the other hand, in Argentina, his country of birth, he could never learn to cook well so he did not feel like doing something he could not eat later, so if James could cook and Erik too, he would be happy with that.
After an hour, the three of them were ready, and went to work at the "Mateo Daniel" pizzeria, where Erik was part of the cooks, James charged for what was going to be bought and Kichan took the orders from the people It should be mentioned that they worked in the same place before but they had moved them and that is why they had moved.
That day went well, they won a good amount of money in a day despite being their first day there. When they arrived at their new home, they talked about the people they met, how they felt and comparisons with the previous local. Erik James and they were so distracted that they did not notice that Marco, Paulo and Neymar were talking too, until Cristian elbowed James who stopped talking and made Erik also notice the trio that was approaching.
—Hello—Erik was the first to speak, making the other three look up, but the one that caught his attention was the blond, I mean Marco, who gave him a defiant look like "what do you want?".
—Hello, new neighbors, no?—Marco replied, with Erik's eyes staring at him as if that made him live, and it made him feel strange, like when he had seen her but with his back to him, so he tried not to make so much eye contact with the.
—Yes, sorry for not having introduced us before, I'm Erik ..— He smiled but only for Marco because the blonde could not take his eyes off of him, so he just did it to point out his friends—... he's James—signal to the brunette, who kept his eyes on Neymar who blushed and whispered something to Paulo-And he is Cristian or Kichan—He pointed to Kichan, who looked curiously at Paulo's eyes, which were green, unlike his own , who were brown and wondered how it was possible that there was such a beautiful being but Paulo did not stop to stare at him like him.
—Well, my name is Marco ..—The blonde looked at his friends, to avoid Erik, at least, a few seconds - he is Neymar-He pointed at the half-stained blonde who smiled even with James's eyes on him - ... and he's Paulo-He pointed to the green-eyed brunette, who also smiled and ran a hand through his hair.
—Where are they from?—Erik asked, his gaze on Marco, who only looked at his fingernails and looked up at his question.
—Well, I'm German—Marco looked like Erik, he seemed thrilled to hear those words come out of his mouth.
—I also—Erik smiled at Marco, to which the other also did it but this time it was like a contagion, he had not done it conscientiously.
—I'm Argentinian—Paulo interrupted while Cristian was dying inside, he was from his own country, of course, such a model could not have been born in another country, he thought.
—Me too—Kichan smiled, looking at Paulo's eyes, which also looked at him, but each time he felt that he was going to melt with those brown eyes looking at him so much.
—I'm Brazilian—Neymar's voice sounded like music to James's ears, which, unlike his two friends, ran a hand through his hair.
—I would love to have been born in Brazil to meet you, but I was born in Colombia—Neymar and James laughed for a few seconds but then they continued looking as before, the green eyes of the Brazilian were only for the brown eyes of the Colombian and the eyes of the Colombian for those of the Brazilian.
Marco was admired by Erik,
Neymar felt a connection with James,
And Paulo seemed to forget about Oriana for Cristian. |
9e81943a7b294a0492d050e5b6b9209d | ['9963420fee884d178b18cbb5c0d810b0'] | The Stokes family spent the rest of the meal discussing everyday kinds of things. Nick and Sara were really enjoying spending the time with just Lacey and Mike eating dinner without having to remind Lisa about table manners, help her cut things, or answer questions about things she didn't understand. After dinner, Sara and Nick were clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, when Sara said, "It was nice to have dinner with Mike and Lacey without Lisa. I hadn't realized how much time and energy goes into dealing with her. I mean I miss her already, but it was nice to focus on talking to both Mike and Lacey."
"It was nice. We both spend time with Lisa together and we each spend time with Mike and Lacey, but not both of us with both of them very often. Hopefully, we will remember to find more ways to do that."
After they finished cleaning up, Nick decided he'd try to call Julie again. He wanted to know if she had talked to her parents. Sara went to the family room to catch-up on her reading.
Nick got Julie's voicemail again, so he decided to check his email. He was in luck. Julie had sent him more email.
_From: AT .gov_
_To: nstokes AT_
_To: I told them!_
_Dear Uncle Nicky—_
_That's right, Uncle Nicky. I promise not to call you that in public but sometimes I just need my Uncle Nicky. As far as I was concerned, my Uncle Nicky was the third most powerful guy in the world after Grandpa and Daddy. You knew almost everything; you could scare the monsters out from under my bed, could fix almost anything, and make me safe just by being there. Now clearly, I learned somewhere down the road that you three weren't super heroes, but sometimes I need to believe that Uncle Nicky can make it all right._
_I told my parents. Mama started to rant a bit, but Dad shut her down. I didn't have to use anything you told me. They are very happy for us. Mama is already making a list of family names for me to use and planning a nursery. Dad is just plain happy. He's planning trips to baseball games and Disneyland. I convinced Dad to wait another month or so before telling the rest of the family besides Grandma and Grandpa Stokes just in case (God forbid) something goes wrong._
_Ashley and Trey are also happy. Ashley is especially happy, because as she pointed out by being an aunt she can have the fun parts of being around a baby, but not the yucky hard parts. I think Ashley's boyfriend is happy too because she can channel her nesting instincts into my baby. Plus, I think I have convinced her that being pregnant is not as much fun as some people make it seem. I mean I'm happy to be pregnant, but I'm tired all the time and I keep throwing up. I'd be happier if I could have the baby and not throw-up so much._
_I'm sorry I haven't called back, but I never seem to have any time, since we are trying to wrap up the appropriations bills by the end of the fiscal year for once. Wish me luck!_
_I also told Congressman Lampson. I was trying to avoid it until, I was farther along, but I had to stop the car to throw-up on the way to an event. He guessed. I think he is only a little less excited than Dad is. His daughter's haven't had any children yet and he wants to be a grandfather. In fact he said since this baby's grandparents will be in Texas, he'll have to be the baby's DC grandpa._
_I really appreciate the advice and support!_
_Love,_
_Julie_
_P.S. Robert says hello!_
Julie's email made Nick very happy. He was glad things went well. He decided that he was going to talk with Will over Thanksgiving and let him know how Christine was making Julie feel. Nick knew that Will would want to know. He would just dash off a quick note to Julie and then see what Sara was up to.
_From: AT .gov_
_To: nstokes AT_
_To: re: I told them!_
_Dear Julie –_
_I'm flattered that I was one of the three most important guys in your life. You are more than welcome to call me Uncle Nicky in private. I wish that I could still fix everything for you. Lisa still thinks I can fix everything, but that probably won't last too much longer._
_I'm glad you parents are happy. I knew they would be. Your dad is going to love being a grandfather._
_Your email actually came at a very good time. When you described what made your chief of staff ask if you were pregnant, you described Sara the last couple of days perfectly. Your email made me think that maybe a pregnancy test was in order. She is indeed pregnant. We got to the doctor tomorrow, but we think she is about six weeks along. Our lab confirmed it with a blood test._
_You should call Sara if you want to commiserate about the throwing-up part of being pregnant. She's also not happy about the limited caffeine part._
_I'm going to tell my parents, but we are going to wait on the rest of the family for a while. Mike and Lacey know and seem excited. Lacey actually guessed too. Lisa doesn't know because she can barely stand waiting another six weeks for Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa's._
_Good luck on getting appropriations bills passed. Don't work too hard._
_Say hi to Robert._
_Love,_
_Nick_
Nick went on to check the rest of his email. He had email from several of his sisters and one of his fraternity brothers. As he was getting ready to log off, he noticed that he had a brand new message from Julie.
_AT .gov_
_To: nstokes AT_ | 5468b8df99304b849745981d2994ef6c | ['9963420fee884d178b18cbb5c0d810b0'] | Sara had organized things before hand, so it didn't take long to put out the presents from Santa and fill everyone's stockings. Then Nick shooed her off to their bedroom, so he could add a few surprises for her. Sara was happy for that because it allowed her to get into her Christmas Eve surprise for Nick. When Nick came into the bedroom, Sara was lounging on the bed in a new lacey nightgown. He stood there speechless for a second as Sara said, "Merry Christmas, Nicky."
Nick closed and locked the door behind him. He began shedding his tie, shoes, socks, and belt as he went to join Sara on the bed. "Merry Christmas," he said as he began kissing her. Taking their time they thoroughly enjoyed each other's bodies and made love slowly. As they were lying cuddled in the afterglow, with Nick's hand splayed across Sara's growing belly, he felt something move. Sara seemed a bit surprised, but Nick just grinned.
"That's the first time, I've felt anything more than a flutter. It's pretty incredible isn't it?"
Nick had moved both hands to Sara's belly hoping to feel the baby move again. "It's absolutely incredible. It's kind of amazing to think my hand was there the first time you felt him kick. There it goes again! We didn't get him riled up, did we?"
Sara laughed, "I have no idea. Maybe he just wanted to give his daddy a Christmas gift. We should get some sleep though; Lisa will have us up early."
Nick yawned, "You're right, Sar'." He moved off the bed to retrieve their Christmas pajamas from the dresser, so they would be properly attired when Lisa came bounding in. Both of them dressed and spooned together in their usual sleep positions.
* * *
Lisa got everyone up at 6:15am, excited to see what Santa had brought. Sara took pictures of everyone in their Christmas pajamas. They ate cinnamon rolls, the grown-ups read their Christmas books (everyone gets a book from Santa), and Lisa played with her new toys. Her two favorite gifts were a 'Little People' doll house and a Brio train set. Mike and Nick also seemed to enjoy the train set too.
Eventually Nick wandered into the kitchen to start the turkey, while Sara would cook meat for the family Nick didn't like to ask her to do that. He also found it amusing that Sara found no need for an alternative main course, but was happy with traditional holiday side dishes. As long as some stuffing was made with vegetable broth and kept away from any cooked in the turkey Sara was happy.
While Nick stuffed the turkey, Sara began to make roll dough. Then she started making pie crust for pumpkin pie. Catherine was bringing pecan pie. Finally, she mixed up the pie filling, added it to the pie pans, and put them in the bottom of the double oven to cook. She figured that the pies would be done in time for her to start the rolls.
Sara was very tired, so she decided that she had time to take a quick nap. She asked Lacey to take the pies out of the oven when they were done, as well as shape the rolls and put them in the oven. Shaping the rolls was Lacey and Lisa's 'thing', since they enjoyed playing with the dough.
* * *
She woke up far later than she had thought she would. She found that Nick and kids had already had lunch and had started working on the rest of Christmas dinner. Even Lisa was in on the act snapping the ends off of asparagus. Lacey announced that if someone would get the good china down from the high shelves, she and Lisa would take care of decorating and setting the table. Sara readily agreed since that was not an area she felt very skilled in. Pretty soon everything that could be done ahead was done.
Sara went to check on the table and discovered that Lacey had Lisa decorate place cards for everyone and created a center piece from holly and pine boughs. Lacey was putting the finishing touches on setting the table, when Sara came over and hugged her, "Thanks so much for setting such a pretty table and entertaining your sister. It was a big help." Then Sara turned her attention to Lisa picking her up, "Thank you for making such pretty place cards and helping Lacey with the table. Let's say we go wash all the sticky stuff off and go put on your pretty Christmas dress."
Lisa responded by giving Sara a kiss and burying her sticky face into Sara's shoulder. The stickiness was a combination of cinnamon rolls, candy from Santa, and glue from place card making. Sara took her upstairs, gave her a bath, and dressed her.
When Sara walked downstairs with Lisa, she found her husband and son sort of ready and watching a football game. They were wearing dress pants and undershirts, with their dress shirts and ties draped over the backs of chairs. She smiled at her guys that were so into the Cowboy's game that they moved in their seats like they were playing and blocked out everything else.
Lisa did manage to get through to them by standing right in front of Nick and twirling around saying, "Look at my pretty dress, Daddy!"
To his credit Nick, managed to switch his focus to his daughter long enough to tell her she looked gorgeous. That satisfied Lisa and she went and amused herself with her toys. |
da8bfe314799437da4ab3a13ce3ee994 | ['9978a69e3a6c4ad5aad82518018ec19c'] | "I think I can sneak away sometime." Tobias whispers back. "How does tonight at midnight sound? Meet me by the chasm." I nod.
"Ok." We eat our cake silently for a moment. "I missed you." Tobias gave a small smile.
"Yeah, I missed you too.
A few hours later I'm stuck in the dorm, surrounded by sleeping bodies. I can hear Peter's snores from across the room, and Al's pitiful cries above me. I check the watch that came with my first Dauntless outfit. 11:45pm. I decide to leave now, giving myself extra time in case I got lost. Cautiously, I get out of my bed and leave the room. I don't bother to put shoes on, since I'm only walking to the chasm. Right before I leave though, Al sits up.
"Tris?" Al whispers, his voice strained. "Where are you going?"
"To get water." I whisper. He nods, and then places his head down. Hopefully he falls asleep before long, otherwise he might just come looking for me.
I take a deep breath of the crisp air outside of the dorm. It feels good to be alone. I slowly walk the path I remember taking towards the chasm. After a few wrong turns, I eventually just follow the sound of rushing water towards the chasm. I sit down on one of the paths, and wait for Tobias to come find me. Nerves begin to bubble in my stomach. What if he doesn't come? What if he hates me for never coming to our meetings?
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps running down the path and my heart quickens. I look down to see Tobias running towards me. A small smile grows on my lips as he nears. Before I know it I am being swept and twirled in the air. I laugh and all nervousness disappears. Tobias gently puts me down and I envelop him in a hug. He is a full head taller than me now, so his head rests gently on my shoulder. "I missed you." I mutter. "So, so much."
"You have no idea." Toby whispers in my hair. He pulls back. " I love you Bea."
"I love you too, Toby." He gently puts his hand on the back of my hand, and pulls his lips towards mine until there is no space left in between us. His rough lips press against mine, and I tangle my hands into his brown hair. He pushes me against the stone wall of the chasm and I start to panic. Memories of Marcus doing the exact same thing start to overtake me. Tobias notices and immediately stops. His hair is tousled, and his lips swollen.
"Oh my gosh Bea, did I go too far? I'm sorry I wasn't thinking. I-" I cut him off with a quick peck on the cheek. I've managed to calm down my heart and breathing. However, images and memories are still flowing through my brain. There goes my sleep for the night.
"It's, it's fine. I just-" My voice cracks, and I wince. I just what? Was raped by your dad who abused you for years? Can't even kiss my own boyfriend without having flashbacks? Tobias squats down so we are face to face.
"Hey, it's ok alright? Do you want to talk about it?" I shake my head. There is no way he can know. "Ok. You can tell me anything though, I promise. Nothing you can say can make me love you less." Oh how very wrong he was.
"Can we talk about something else?" I ask weakly. Tobias nods. "So what are some things I need to know for initiation?"
"Well first off, I'm your trainer. So you need to act scared of me, and like you hate me." I scoff.
"Easier said than done." I mutter, Tobias laughs.
"I know, it's going to be hard for me too." He tilts my chin up. I stare into his dark blue eyes. "But hey, once this is all over and you pass initiation, we get to be together whenever we want."
"What if I don't make it?" I whisper. "What if I'm cut?" I know I've trained, but I am going against Dauntless borns who have been training all of their lives.
To my surprise, Tobias laughs. "Bea, I would say that if anyone was garunteed to pass initiation it would be you. If anything, you are going to have to act like you don't know anything so you don't raise suspicion." Toby's words comfort me, and I nod.
"We have so much to catch up on, I have no clue where to start." I say, Toby nods.
"Well let's start with you. How was Abnegation?" I know what he is really asking, and I know I can't answer him truthfully. I shrug my shoulders.
"Fine. Normal, boring Abnegation. It was awful without you." Tobias narrowed his eyes.
"Is there any particular reason why you didn't go to school at all after visiting day?" I stiffen.
"How do you know that?"
"I asked Zeke's younger brother, Uriah, to find you at school. You two are the same age, so it wouldn't have been hard for him to spot you at lunch. But he could never find you." I flinch. How am I going to be able to get out of this one?
"Tris!" A voice called out. I spin around to find no other than Al running towards me. His eyes are bloodshot from crying.
"What are you doing initiate?" Toby's voice turns hard, and my blood runs cold. He sure is good at this scaring initiates thing.
"Tris said that she was getting water, and she didn't come back and I got worried so I came looking for her." Tobias glances at me, and I look around. | 1244e216ab914cc3ba630596e0f05036 | ['9978a69e3a6c4ad5aad82518018ec19c'] |
A Rainy Day
It was a typical gloomy day in London. A light fog hung in the air above the city, blocking the sun and any sign of what time of day it was. Typically, Harry hated these kinds of day. Rain had always put him in a bad mood. Maybe it was from his childhood and being stuck inside with the Dursleys with no escape other than his cupboard. But today, despite the gloomy weather, was a good day.
His boyfriend had come over that morning, two steaming cups of tea in his hands. His irresistible smirk stuck on his face as he caught Harry staring at the water dripping off his blond hair and sliding down his sharp jawline.
“I brought you something,” Draco said, handing a surprised Harry his cup. “Miserable day outside, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah.” Harry took the cup, appreciating the instant warmth it brought his chilled hands. “What are you doing, Draco? Don’t you have work?”
“Don’t you?” Harry broke his gaze, glancing instead Draco’s wet feet. Why hadn’t he cast a drying charm? Without a second thought he pulled his wand from his pocket and wordlessly cast a drying and warming charm on Draco.
“Took the day off. Wouldn’t have gotten anything done anyways.” Draco rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry into the small apartment.
“Right. Well. As your boyfriend, I also took the day off, and used my time to bring you a delectable warm drink.” He nodded to the cup. “Drink up before it gets cold.”
Harry shook his head but took a sip nevertheless. “I still don’t get how you make it perfectly every time.”
The smirk grew. “Magic.” Harry chuckled and went to sit back down on his couch. Draco followed, placing his cup on the coffee table while he made himself comfortable underneath a shared throw blanket.
“I love you, you dork,” Harry muttered. “But seriously, why aren’t you at work?”
Draco shrugged, grabbing his cup and shifting close to Harry’s side. “I didn’t feel like it. I have plenty of vacation days left in the year, and I thought we could have some together time. Merlin knows we haven’t had enough of that lately.”
Harry didn’t need Merlin to know that. With both of their busy ministry jobs, it was nearly impossible to find time to go out together. Either they were both too tired, or too busy. He had missed this. The comfort of Draco’s fingers threaded through his, the comforting scent that he carried everywhere with him, the sharp but warm tone of his words. He couldn’t get enough.
“Alright,” he whispered. He laid his head on Draco’s shoulder, breathing deeply. He hadn’t felt this calm in months. The soothing sound of rain on the window, the steady breaths of his boyfriend, the almost burning feeling of the cup of tea in his hands. It was all perfect.
He took another sip of tea, and lightly squeezed Draco’s hand. His fingers were so long, so delicate, so gentle. They were the complete opposite of Harry’s worn, calloused ones, yet they looked perfect intertwined together.
“What are you looking at?” Draco’s voice shook him from his thoughts. A light blush bloomed on Harry’s face.
“Nothing.” One look at Draco told him that his answer wasn’t enough. “I’m going to sound weird.”
“How much weirder can we get, Potter?”
“Fine. Your fingers.”
“My fingers?”
“They’re just so long, and pretty, and perfect.” Harry blushed harder. “That’s all.”
Draco chuckled and glanced at his fingers. Personally, he had never liked them much. Sure, they were great for piano playing, but he often thought them obnoxiously long and too pale to be likable.
“You’re adorable, you know that?” Draco mumbled, snuggling into Harry more. Harry made a noise of agreement, too content to say much else.
They stayed like that for a while, content with the other’s presence. The sound of the rain pouring outside, the odd sounds of the apartment complex, and each other’s soothing breath. That was the nice thing about their relationship. Neither one had to say anything to make the other feel better. All they had to do was be there.
“Draco?” Harry whispered, scared to break the moment.
“Hmm?”
“You know how to play piano, don’t you?” Draco scoffed.
“Of course. It’s a pureblood tradition, the heir learning a classical instrument. I’ve had lessons since I could walk.”
“Would you play for me?” Harry’s voice was timid, afraid he was asking too much of Draco. He didn’t want to ruin the perfect moment that they had created together, but he couldn’t get those hands out of his mind, and how it would feel to see them skimming over the black and white keys of a piano…
“I’ve never played in front of anyone but my family before…” Draco mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Harry looked at him seriously.
“You’re my family Draco, you have been for a while now.”
The words shook Draco, rendering him speechless for a moment. Family. What was family, truly? Sure, he had grown up with a loving father and mother, but he had always been second priority. Unlike most kids, who were their parent’s first priority, Draco was always put after the Dark Lord. It was understandable of course, but that didn’t take the pain away. He had never had someone like Harry. Someone who looked at him like he was their entire world, their entire universe. Someone who put his needs and wants before their own, even if that meant foregoing all sense of self-preservation.
“Of course,” Draco said, voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have a piano here, do you?” Harry laughed under his breath and broke apart from Draco’s side to pull out his wand and place his cup of tea on the table.
“We’re wizards, are we not?” Draco’s face flushed as Harry transformed the coffee table into a grand piano. |
02a9ab3948ba4f888d7cc803a04f14e0 | ['999b385316e841a08835654c68118a96'] | “We should get going babe. I need to go make sure my station is still in one piece” Nicole said as she got up and put her pants back on. “The guys at the station have been acting like frat boys all morning.”
Waverly laughed “Is it that bad...?” She got up, dressed herself and picked up the blanket.
“Well it’s a slow day so I just let them be, but I really should get back there.”
“Okay baby, we can go by the station first and ease your mind before you take me home.”
As they walked back to the cruiser Nicole looked down at her pants. “Shit my pants are really dirty. I hope I still have a clean pair in the cruiser.” Nicole looked in the trunk of the car and took out a bottle of water and some wipes to clean the grime off of themselves. She then proceeded to search for a pair of pants, but all she could find was a pair of her old Khakis.
“Dammit! I really hate these!”
“Really baby? I still love the way your ass looks in them”
“Well guess I have no choice but to wear them now, though the colour scheme with my new boots and belt is going to be really awful.”
Waverly chuckled as Nicole put on her old Khakis with the rest of her uniform. “Oh yes baby! Your ass still looks as good as it did when I watched you walk out of Shorty’s the day we met.” She said as she spanked Nicole on her ass.
“Hey Waves! Don’t get me started again.” The two women got in the cruiser. Nicole called a tow truck to arrange for the Jeep to be moved to the homestead and then drove back to the station.
When Waverly and Nicole walked into the station the deputies immediately noticed Nicole’s pants.
“What’s up with the Khakis Sheriff?” asked Lonnie
“None of your business deputy” answered Nicole
“I can tell you, they were probably banging and the sheriff got angel jizz all over her other pants” said Wynonna from the corner of the station. Nicole’s face turned beet red.
“Wynonna Earp! Nicole’s pants and my angel jizz are none of your business” said Waverly, a stern look on her face, as she squeezed Nicole’s hand.
“Yes Earp! I don’t need to hear it from you” said Nicole
“Calm your ass cheeks Hot to trot. I know you two can’t keep your hands or tongues off each other”
“Wynonna! That’s enough!” exclaimed Waverly “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Last time I checked I still worked here sometimes, but I was actually looking for you Baby girl. You were not answering your phone. I should have figured you were too busy with the Scarlet Sheriff to bother answering your phone.”
“For your information Earp, I was helping Waverly with her Jeep. She had a roadside breakdown.”
“Whatever you say Sheriff sexy pants” Wynonna said and winked at the two women “Baby girl I am heading home. Are you coming with me or staying with Sheriff sweetie pie?”
“Wynonna, I will go with you, but only if you stop messing with Nicole right now.”
“She likes it when I give her cute nicknames Baby girl” Waverly rolled her eyes as Wynonna said this. She gave Nicole a kiss on the cheek and walked out of the station with Wynonna.
On Saturday morning Nicole showed up at the homestead, toolbox in hand. She was wearing tight faded blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, with her Puma sneakers. Waverly answered the door.
“Baby you look so good, I could just eat you”
Just then Wynonna came down the stairs. “Just make sure I am not around before you take a bite out of Sheriff soon to be grease monkey alright Baby girl”
“Hello to you too Wynonna” said Nicole and gave Waverly a quick peck on the lips.
Waverly made some coffee for Nicole and the three women made small talk in the kitchen as Nicole drank her coffee. Waverly then led Nicole to the barn where the Jeep was waiting for her. Doc brought the replacement parts to the barn from Nicole’s cruiser, tipped his hat to the two women and went back to the house to hang out with Wynonna.
Nicole worked on the Jeep for some time and her hands were once again completely dirty. Waverly brought a beer to the barn for Nicole and handed it to her.
“You need to take a break baby. You have been working really hard all morning.”
“I am almost done babe, I just have a few more things to tweak. It will not take longer than 20 minutes”
“But baby...my engine needs some detailing”
“Uhm..,that’s what I have been doing all morning babe. Taking care of your engine.”
“Baby, you are not hearing me” said Waverly and grabbed Nicole by the collar of her flannel shirt. She gave Nicole a passionate kiss and ran her fingers over Nicole’s crotch through her jeans.
“Jesus Waves” Nicole breathed
“Baby watching you work has turned me on so much. Please take a break and have some fun with me.”
“Waves my hands are completely dirty again. Wouldn’t you rather we do this after I have had a shower?”
“No baby! Now please...”
Nicole gave a heavy sigh, knowing every fibre of her being prevented her from refusing Waverly. “Okay babe, I will finish the Jeep off after I finish you off and then shower.”
“Deal” said Waverly, a huge smile on her face.
She pulled Nicole by her collar to a large heap of hay bales and down on top of her. Nicole carefully kept her dirty hands away from Waverly as she balanced herself above Waverly on the hay bales. The two women kissed passionately for a while, Nicole grinding her hips on top of Waverly. When Waverly couldn’t take it anymore she pushed Nicole off of her. | 0b816b2f338044159d94cd4bf38da410 | ['999b385316e841a08835654c68118a96'] | “Did I do something wrong babe?” asked Nicole.
“No silly, I just need to get something”
Nicole looked at Waverly with a puzzled expression as Waverly got something out the back of the Jeep. It was a bright purple strap on dildo.
“Fuck Waves!”
“Yes Nicole, you are going to fuck me with this” laughed Waverly
“You had this planned all along didn’t you babe?”
“Well like I said when we first met, I am a planner” Waverly said with a wink.
She helped Nicole take off her clothes and get into the strap on harness. Nicole sat back down on the hay bales. Waverly took off her own clothes and started masturbating in front of Nicole who bit her own lip at the sight in front of her.
“Do you like what you see baby”
Nicole licked her lips and let out a sigh “Yes babe, you are perfect”
Waverly giggled and asked “Do you want a taste baby?”
Nicole nodded and Waverly moved closer to Nicole who licked up and down Waverly’s slit. Waverly let out a little moan at the contact and Nicole started flicking her tongue against Waverly’s clit.
“Oh yes baby! Just like that...it feels so good!”
After a while Waverly moved away from Nicole. Took some lube out of the same bag she took the strap on out of and lubed up the dildo. She got on Nicole’s lap and guided the tip of the toy to her entrance. She slowly pushed down on the toy, getting it deeper inside of her. Nicole pressed her palms down hard onto the hay bales to steady herself as Waverly pressed her own palms against the wall of the barn behind them and rode the toy attached to Nicole like a cowgirl.
“Oh fuck yes!” Waverly screamed
Nicole was breathing heavily as Waverly rode her and moaned whenever the base of the toy made contact with her own clit. She took one of Waverly’s nipples into her mouth and sucked the firm bud.
“Oh Nicole! I am coming!” Waverly smacked the wall of the barn hard with her palms and rode out her orgasm. Nicole, despite not wanting to get the dirt and grime from her hands on Waverly, had to hold onto the younger woman’s lower back to help keep her steady. When Waverly’s orgasm subsided she gave Nicole a passionate kiss.
Waverly slowly got up letting the dildo slide out of her. She kneeled down between Nicole’s legs and licked the shaft of the dildo, tasting herself on it. She licked her lips and moved the harness and toy to the side exposing Nicole’s sex. She licked up and down Nicole’s slit and started sucking on the sheriff’s clit making her release deep guttural moans. She slid two fingers into Nicole and started pumping them in and out at a steady pace.
“Faster babe” Nicole breathed and Waverly increased her pace while continuing to suck on Nicole’s clit.
“Oh God yes Waves! I am coming!” Waverly felt Nicole’s walls tighten around her fingers and held Nicole up with her other arm as the red head rode out her own orgasm. Waverly pulled her fingers slowly out of Nicole and sucked on one of them, next she put the other in Nicole’s mouth making the sheriff taste herself on Waverly’s fingers. “
“That was so good babe. Do you need more or shall I finish off the Jeep now?”
“You can get back to work if you want to baby, but first I need to do something else.”
Waverly helped Nicole get dressed again. She didn’t remove the harness and dildo from Nicole though, nor help Nicole put her flannel back on again. Instead she dressed herself in nothing but Nicole’s flannel shirt that fit like a short dress on her body, leaving Nicole in her sports bra. She tucked the Dildo into Nicole’s jeans leaving a very visible bulge in the front as she zipped it up. “There, now I have something extra sexy to stare at while you work.”
Waverly picked up her own panties from the floor and tucked them into the left side pocket of Nicole’s jeans, letting them hang out like a rag. Waverly chuckled at the sight. “You are my perfect delicious mechanic.” Nicole blushed at the thought of what she must look like.
Nicole got back under the Jeep to finish the work when Wynonna walked into the barn. Her eyes fell on a shirtless Nicole on the ground, with the bulge in her pants and Waverly’s black lace panties hanging from her pocket.
“Haught damn! What kind of kinky shit is going on here!”
Nicole jerked up at hearing Wynonna and bumped her head against the Jeep. “Ouch Fuck! You startled me Wynonna.”
“My poor baby” said Waverly
“What are you wearing Baby girl?” asked Wynonna looking at Waverly in nothing but Nicole’s flannel shirt now.
“Hey! Can’t a girl wear her baby’s shirt when she wants too?”
“A girl can, but she needs to wear some darn pants too in case her big sister walks in on the situation” said Wynonna as she rolled her eyes.
“Maybe her big sister needs to learn to knock on closed doors instead of just walking in” said Nicole getting out from under the Jeep. “All done!” she said looking at Waverly with a triumphant smile on her face.
“My hero!” exclaimed Waverly as she jumped into Nicole’s arms and kissed her, slipping her tongue into Nicole’s mouth. Nicole grabbed onto Waverly’s ass, getting grime all over her cheeks.
“Yo! I am still here horn dogs!” exclaimed Wynonna.
“Get out!” shouted Waverly and Nicole in unison.
“Kay, bye!” said Wynonna and spanked Nicole on the ass before walking out of the barn.
“Ugh...Wynonna is too much sometimes” said Nicole rolling her eyes.
“But you love her though, don’t you baby?”
“Of course I do...Luckily for her” Nicole replied. “Now let’s get inside the house and upstairs for that shower, shall we?”
Waverly led Nicole upstairs and the two women got into the shower together. They held each other close for a few moments and then helped each other clean up.
After their shower they got into Waverly’s bed, taking turns between cuddling and kissing. “I love you so much baby, thank you for fixing my Jeep today” said Waverly.
“Anything for my extraordinary Angel” replied Nicole “I love you too babe” and with that they fell asleep in each other’s arms for what would be the best sleep the two women will have for some time... |
b33925fc4344486eacc4f69375cf9b1a | ['99b7dc4be698449aa60c4e98aa07cdc3'] |
1. Ribirth
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Max is mysteriously called to an undescribed dark room. Why?
"Hello?" Max said, walking into the large, dark room. They said there was someone there she wanted to meet
In the center of the room, there was a girl, about five years old. She had curly blond hair and blue eyes, but the strangest things were the swan-like white wings on her back.
"Hi Max," the younger girl said. Everything about her, her face, hair, voice, was exactly like Angel's. Except for one thing.
"Goodbye, Max," the little Angel said. She moved faster than seemingly possible, and before Max knew it, the little Angel had jumped up and planted a solid kick on Max's forehead.
Whitecoats descended from the shadows. One human-avian hybrid down, six more to go.
"Nice one, Angie IV," Jeb's third clone complemented.
"Let me capture Phoenix," Angie IV said. "Don't let another Angie take her."
"Of course," Jeb's clone promised, waking away with Max's body bag.
But Angie wanted to leave. She wanted to meet the real Angel. And she wanted to kill all of Jeb's clones for all the original Jeb did against the Flock.
2. Phoenix Ride
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Phoenix, daughter of Max and Fang, is starting yet another day in the town they started. Well, can't say it any other way without spoilers.
I woke up the way I usually do. I got out of bed, go dressed, and jumped out the window and off the cliff.
You probably think I'm totally insane, but Mom decided she wanted to live at the top of a cliff, so we have to jump off to get breakfast.
I flew to the town square, which is pretty much right under my cliff. I went to Iggy's shop and bought plate of pancakes, with plenty of syrup.
"Good morning, Phoenix," Iggy greeted. He's almost like an uncle to me, and I love him.
"Hi Iggy. How's your day going?" I asked. Suddenly his face turned dark.
"Have you seen your mother today? No one has seen her this morning," Iggy informed me.
I shivered. "What do you mean?" I asked. Even though I'm only six years old, this didn't sound very good to me.
"She's probably run off to do something," Iggy admitted. He didn't look anymore relaxed.
"I'll go ask Dad," I said, flying off to find him.
_What happened to Mom anyway?_ I thought as the wind whipped through my black hair. It seemed impossible that anything could happen to her. Maximum Ride was the stuff of legends, the invincible leader that saved the world. Okay, I'll admit that that is mostly legend, and I'm sure Mom didn't do half the things the boys tell me, but she couldn't get hurt, could she?
It suddenly started raining. I looked around, realizing that dark clouds had covered my field of vision, and I had no idea where I was.
Then I heard the voice of a younger girl from behind me.
"Please Phoenix, help me. Don't let them find me, please. My life depends on this."
3. The School
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Yes, that's right. The School. But Max might not be alone in this.
Max opened her eyes to see the bars of a cage. She thought she'd never see that sight again, since even the whole world had ended.
"Hi," a young Angel-looking girl said. She had a whitecoat behind her.
"What are you doing to me!!" Max screamed. "Who are you people?"
"You can call me Angie II," the Angel-looking girl replied. "Come."
The whitecoat unlocked the door to Max's crate, and Angie II guided her out. She was surprisingly gentle, for a minion of the School.
They led her out into a hallway, and into another room, this time without any dog crates. The whitecoat left and locked the door, but Angie II stayed.
"He's gone," Angie II whispered. She looked relaxed.
"What do you mean?" Max puzzled. "Is that a good thing?"
"Jump and hit that fire alarm," Angie II instructed, pointing. "That will release all the locks and we can get out."
"Get out? What do you mean? Are you trying to trap me?" Max asked.
"The fire alarm. We can leave," Angie II insisted.
Max thought it over. Escape was important, but how much did she trust this Angel clone, especially since she captured Max. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Angie II shrugged. "You don't really have a choice. But if we get caught, it's my fault, I promise."
Max hit the fire alarm, and all hell broke loose.
4. Angie IV
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Now, this is where things get complicated. Is Angie IV going to take Phoenix away, or do all creations of the School want to escape, at some point, in some way?
I looked behind me and saw a young version of Auntie Angel. She looked bruised and beaten, with a distressed look on her face.
"Please, Phoenix, don't let them hurt me," the young Angel begged. "You know how they're monsters."
I took her hand, and together we slowly landed. The wind started to pick up, and she gave me her jacket.
"No, please, you look like you need it," I said, stroking her wet wings. "Who's going to hurt you?"
The look of terror on the young Angel's face made me wish I hadn't asked. "Whitecoats."
The air seemed to get colder around us as I heard that. "Whitecoats?" I whispered.
I'd always thought Whitecoats were monsters Uncle Gazzy and Iggy made up to scare me. I never knew they were real.
The young Angel nodded fiercely. "Yes. Do you know anywhere to hide?" she asked me.
I looked around, and spotted the caves where Uncle Gazzy brought me to play. "Over there," I said, pointing to the dark shapes in the mountain a maybe fifty meters away. | 4f9f07d4b5524f5fa7edc85427241578 | ['99b7dc4be698449aa60c4e98aa07cdc3'] | "Hi, my girl," I greeted. "What're you doing up so early?" She opened her wings. They were shining purple-black in the light.
"Wanna fly," she responded. She pointed to her leg.
"Oh," I remembered. "I have something to fix that."
Out of my backpack came a wooden stick and duct tape. In a few minutes, I made her a makeshift cast and crutches. She sat up and I helped her awkwardly stand. She stretched her wings wide, determination lighting in her orange eyes.
"You're going to fly?" I asked. She nodded.
She motioned for me to come over and I launched her into the air, watching her wings swoop down and catch the air. It was magnificent, watching her fly. She was so graceful, like a dolphin in air.
She finally landed in a heap as the sun started to set. "Owie!" She hissed when she hit her bad leg. I steadied her as we walked back to the cave. She was tired after her long flight.
"You want some food?" I asked her. She nodded. She seemed to like the fried chicken.
She settled into her blankets and I wrapped some more around her. I read the rest of the Lightning Thief and called it a night.
"I'm going to bed now," I told her as I crawled into my sleeping bag.
"Night night," she responded. It took a while to sleep this time, but my dreams were erratic. I saw her like she was yesterday, hurt, helpless, and vulnerable.
I sleep like that for about two hours before she woke me up.
"They coming," was all she said. I was immediately on guard.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"They coming. I gonna die. I gonna die!" She yelled, and then burst into tears.
I hugged her warm body, kissed her sliver hair, tried to soothe her. "No you aren't. I'm right here. You're going to be fine." I stroked her powerful feathers and tried to hold her as she shivered from fear.
She shook her head, tears running down her face. "No. I see futures. This is it." My blood ran cold. "I love you," she said. My heart hurt. I loved her so much.
"I love you, too," I whispered, and kissed her wet lips.
We waited a few minutes, shivering in the dark and cold together. Then they came. Hairy wolf men attacked us. We fought back, as hard as we could. But with her injuries and my untrained moves, we were destined to fail.
One of the wolf men threw me out of the cave. I tried to get back in, but another wolf man pushed me back. I heard her last screech before silence. I hid behind a bush as they carried her once beautiful, but now lifeless, body to a black Ford SUV. They drove off with her, and I sat there, silently cussing and crying at the same time. I loved her so much; she was so beautiful, vibrant, kind.
The sun finally rose, a new day without her. The sun was warm on my face as I walked back to my apartment. I then rememered it was my 21st birthday. All the fun of legally allowed to drink. But it wasn't the same. It's like life was in color when she was still alive, and now it's black and white. But I'll never forget her. Never.
Retrieved from "<http://maximumridefanfiction.wikia.com/wiki/Left_Behind?oldid=7804>"
**Author's Note:**
> This story's now in multiple formats!
> Left Behind is now available on Wikia, WattPad, and Fanfiction.net. |
813b84385c874a3b8b0d525524637bfc | ['99b87ed9474f442f9ce88eb52b4c9d8f'] | "Oh, that's Camille. And yes, I need to talk to you. It's about Puck and...other things."
"Well, what is it?" I was tired of dancing around the subject. He was stalling, what could he be talking about?
"Sit." He said, pointing to a chair close to his side of the bed. I walked over and sat down, folding my legs and staring at my cousin. I wanted answers, and I would get them from him. I stared at him, waiting for the words to slip out of his mouth.
"I know about your plan to leave." He blurted out, then both of us looked all around us for fear of someone hearing. I whipped back around.
"How?" I whispered.
"Does your father visit? As a spirit type thing?"
"Yes," how did he know all of this?
"So does mine. Whatever happens to us when we die, and what my father was warning me about. They both know that something is happening. And they want us to leave. I don't believe they have tried to contact Mab."
"Why not? She is their mother. Don't they want her safe?"
"I guess they might. But they might not think she would believe them. Could be another trick to her." I shrugged. William had a point. So now, he knew as well. It was going to be a lot easier to convince him to come with me to the cabin. And maybe even easier to get Cassandra to come with us.
"When shall we go?" I said, to break the silence that had grown upon us. William seemed startled by the question.
"You are really going? You're not going to try to yell at me for wanting to go? After I yelled at you for thinking wrongly of Mab? For saying that we should always stay and protect Tir Na Nog?" He really seemed like he wanted a fight to ensue from this. He was shocked it went so well.
"Our fathers care for us, surprising for yours, and they want us out. They know more of what is coming. I think we should honor their wishes, and leave here as soon as possible." I made sure to be completely conscious of the room around me. Just in case someone was in there with us.
"I didn't think you'd want to."
"Why? Because I'm a girl?"
"No," William chuckled at that, then took a peek at Cassandra's sleeping body, "Definitely not for that reason. But because I thought you were too in love with being here."
"I can leave whenever I want. I am the princess, right? And you're the prince. We can do as we please. We just can't tell anyone where we are going or for how long. That will get people suspicious. And we don't need that." Both William and I giggled. This was going a lot smoother than I ever imagined it in my head.
After a while, I felt awkward just sitting there while Cassandra was sleeping, and it seemed that William wanted to cuddle with her. He kept turning around to look at her every other minute. I got up and said that we'd talk more after dinner, seeing as how we stayed in there so long we missed lunch. Hopefully, our presence wouldn't be too missed.
***
I walked to my room, where I plopped down onto my bed, still in the dress. So much for spending time in the throne room and by the stables. I almost got up to see if anyone was in there when I felt someone play with my hair. I looked up and saw Puck, who was now sitting up in my bed, shirtless too. My breath caught in my chest.
29. Last Night Here
"You're staring at me." Puck said, causing me to jump out of my trance. I stood up and climbed onto the bed to be closer to him.
"I know. You make it so that I do. You realize that right?" I said, kissing his forehead. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck. I giggled and pulled myself down to kiss his lips. I had missed feeling like this. This calm, bliss while the two of us were together. The past few days were filled with just anxiety and fear. Also hiding and running. I had no time to just relax with Puck, just myself and my thoughts; which weren't great company. Luckily, Puck made my mind go blank. All I could think about was him. Our lips pressed together. Our bodies pressed together. Us, being one on my bed. That's all I wanted right now. And that's what I was to have this night. I was done with the hiding and the fear. I was leaving tomorrow. No one can stop me. I will do this. I will get myself, and those I care about, to safety. Puck pulled me closer, or was it me pulling myself towards him? Either way, I was so close I could have been inside of him. We pulled apart to breathe, Puck looked at me with those piercing eyes and I blushed knowing that I was in love with the Arcadian Trickster.
"Well, it's good to see you too." He said, sighing and looking out the window. I did the same. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had come in here. The sky outside was starting to turn to a darker color. The one which signaled the night for the Nevernever, though we never really had a night time. I stepped out of bed and into my bathroom, grabbing my nightgown from the floor. I don't remember really putting it there. Slipping out of my dress and into the nightgown, I heard someone enter my room.
"Oh, could you please not be like that?" I heard William ask Puck.
"Like what?" He asked.
"Naked, in my cousin's bed." | c240a7e1eea1484d8c228ac089eced27 | ['99b87ed9474f442f9ce88eb52b4c9d8f'] | I continued to sit and chat with the other guards long after our dishes were taken back to the kitchen for cleaning. One by one and small group by group the guards left to go and rest. After a while, it was only Cassandra, Belve, William, a few 'old-timers' (fey that have been under Mab's command for centuries), and I sitting at the table. "This war better end fast and painless. I really hope it's a false alarm and we get to go home without and bloodshed." One of the 'old-timers' said to Belve, leaning in his chair.
"If only that would happen, brother." Belve replied, looking at all of us one by one. "I think it is about time we all head to bed now." He stood and left, followed by the 'old-timers'. William and Cassandra got up at the same time and left together. I could have sworn that I saw them grab hands as they turned the corner. I didn't get up for another minute or so, slowly walking through the halls to my room. I even passed Mab's room. Her door was open, so I thought nothing of it and listened in.
"I am worried that we will be destroyed." She said to one of her servants, "They have fire AND iron. How do we compete with that?"
"You will make it dear, I know it to be so." Said the servant. She walked away from Mab and ran from her door. Heading straight for my room. Mab was worried that we wouldn't win. I couldn't let her down now. I had to fight for her. I could feel it in my blood. But I still felt a pull of sadness as well.
19. The Uninvited, Yet Welcomed Guest
I walked into my room and shut the door, sliding down until I hit the floor. I felt that I couldn't get back onto my feet. The weight of what I was going into crushed me then. I was going into a war. I might die. I could kill people. Which would make me a murderer. I wasn't a murderer. The tears came down my face. I wiped them away before furiously untying my boots and throwing them across my room. One of them hit the wall, then the floor. The second one, however, hit something that made a noise as if it knocked the wind out of him. I shot my head up, not knowing exactly what to do. So, I threw ice shards in the direction of the sound. An effortless leap followed and I heard something land in the dark corner of my room, on the other side of my bureau. With shaky legs, I stood and took a few steps forward.
"Who is there? Show yourself!" I called out, staring at the dark spot. My glamour was all concentrated in my hand, ready for another strike. I shot again after a second of no movement. As they flew over, the figure didn't move their arm quick enough. I heard the slight yelp of pain as the shard went into the flesh of their arm.
"Rain, goodness be careful with those things." I heard a familiar voice say from the darkness. My breath caught in my throat.
"Puck?" I choked out, rushing over to the corner next to my bureau. I formed a glowing blue orb above us and I saw that one of my shards had hit his arm, slicing it, causing blood to drip onto the floor next to him.
"Nice shot there." He joked, lifting his arm for me to examine.
"Oh, Puck, I am so sorry." I said, kneeling down and holding his arm. I didn't know how to fix something like this...not at all.
"It's fine. It should heal soon."
"You need to be healed now!" I snapped at him. Did he not see the danger of this all? Him being here. Him bleeding on my floor. Me still in love with him. I was hoping that last one wouldn't be there. But the heart wants what it wants...and I am in no place to argue with it. I sat him up against the wall. "Stay here, I'll be right back." I ordered. He did a joked salute to me, but my face was telling him it wasn't funny. It didn't seem to stop him, though. I opened my door and ran down the hall, hoping to find her in her rounds. And I did. Just to my left, I saw her, Elsa. I waved her over frantically and she trotted over. Before she could ask a question I rushed her to my room and ushered her inside of it.
"What is wrong Princess Rain?" She asked with big eyes. I pointed towards Puck, who was still illuminated by the orb.
"Do you know how to fix that?" I asked, so hoping that she did.
"Yes, but Princess Rain." Elsa paused. "He isn't supposed to be here. Isn't he the reason Queen Mab hit you?"
"What!? She hit you!" Puck called out as we looked over at him. I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes, that's the reason. But," I had to play strategy now, "If he goes back to Arcadia and tells everyone that I hurt him, then there will surely be a war." She seemed to buy that. Elsa walked over to Puck where he lay and began to work on his arm, using a loose string from shirt to close up his wound. It was smaller than I thought it would be. When she was done, Elsa stood and looked at me.
"Would you like me to take him to the doors?" She asked, meaning that she would send him back home.
"No," I said too quickly, "I want to take care of him." I finished, standing straight. Elsa nodded and ran from my room, I called her back real quick.
"Yes, Princess Rain?"
"Tell no one of this, it shall be our secret." |
084a312797894537ab7fe576e7e8d2e7 | ['99bd401c652d436091f41e842fbabf14'] | Pagers
“How long do we have?” Nico closed the on-call room door behind him
“Twenty minutes. I have to prep Pierce’s patient for a valve replacement.” Levi answered as he yanked his shirt over his head.
“Any way you can get out of that and we can make this an hour?” Nico put his hands on Levi’s waist.
“Not if I want to scrub in.” Levi said curtly. “C’mon, we have twenty minutes. Let’s get busy.”
Nico rolled his eyes but still pulled his scrub top over his head. He grabbed the back of Levi’s thighs and picked him up off the ground. Levi yelped in surprise then giggled when Nico started kissing his neck.
As Nico walked them over to a bed, they both fell further into each other. By the time Levi was lying down, with Nico on top of him, he was something of a mess. If they had been in Nico’s bed and had some more free time, Nico would have taken this opportunity to tease Levi until he was begging and moaning and couldn’t even string together a full sentence anymore.
“Babe…” Levi groaned.
“Hmm?” Nico murmured
“Eighteen minutes.” Levi managed to gasp while Nico worked his way down his chest.
“Okay, fine.” Nico sighed and sat up enough that he and Levi were both able to wriggle out of their pants.
Before Nico could even come back down, Levi sat up and dragged him down himself. They laid there for a few minutes, kissing and moving against each other.
“Nico.” Levi shuddered. “Do you have-”
“Yeah, in my pocket. I’ll grab them.” Just as Nico got off the bed, a pager started beeping.
“Yours?” Levi asked.
“No. I’ll see if it’s yours.” Nico dug through the mess of shirts and pants on the floor. “Not yours either.”
“Then whos-”
“It’s mine.”
Levi and Nico looked up to see Dr. Bailey climb off of the top bunk of a bed across the room. They both started talking at once.
Nico came up with: “Uhhhhhhhh-”
Levi had: “Dr. Bailey, I’m so sorry-”
Bailey sighed and waved them off. “I don’t want to hear it. I want you two to get dressed because you are in a hospital where you practice medicine and you can’t do that if you can’t even act like proper human beings.” She stormed off, talking to herself. “No sex in on-call rooms was rule three. How have they all forgotten the rules already?”
Once the door closed behind her, both Levi and Nico breathed out a sigh of relief.
“We just got caught with our pants off in front of the chief, again.” Nico shucked his shirt on as fast as he could.
“I mean this is kinda bad but I think my glasses falling into an open patient is still worse.” Levi tried to laugh.
“We need to stop trying to have sex in the hospital.”
“No, we just need to be smarter about it. Karev said to lock doors and we’ve got that down. Now we’ve just got to make sure the room’s clear next time. It’s like updating a protocol.”
“Protocol? To have sex?” Nico groaned.
“Sexy protocol.” Levi tried.
“I love you.” Nico leaned down for a kiss while he pulled his pants back on. “But we both have places to be where we are expected to help save lives. And we will pick this up later tonight.”
“But what if I’m all tired after my valve replacement, those take forever.” Levi whined.
“I can give you a foot rub.” Nico offered.
“That sounds nice.”
“And after that maybe we could pick this up again and I’ll do all the work?”
“No promises, but as of now, you’ve got a date.”
**Author's Note:**
> So I didn't post for a thousand years but consider that the million works-in-progress sitting in my drive are more upset with me than you are. I needed a little drabble to get some schmico moving through my system so hopefully I'll have something more substantial done soon. | 27a93a80334b415593c0f04623c20125 | ['99bd401c652d436091f41e842fbabf14'] | “No you’ll still be having the same two doctors on the surgery, it’s just that Dr. Schmitt’s name changed. He is also now Dr. Kim.” Nico explained.
“Oh I see. Just out of curiosity, why has his name changed? If you would know.”
“He got married. A week ago, actually. To me. He married me and he took my name.” Nico found himself stumbling over his words.
“Congratulations, Dr. Kim.” Ms. Lopez smiled at Nico. “I suppose I’ll have to say the same when I see the other Dr. Kim.”
Levi and Nico were lucky to have the exact same shift on their first day back, even they knew it would be different by the next day. After both getting changed out of their scrubs, they met up at the front of the hospital.
“Was that such a bad first day back, Dr. Kim?” Nico asked right before he leaned down to give Levi a quick kiss.
“Oh I suppose not, Dr. Kim. I met my new interns, showed them around the hospital, I even got to take them into a surgery with just the most gorgeous doctor.”
“Is that so? Tell me about this gorgeous doctor, should I be jealous?” Nico wrapped an arm around Levi’s waist as they started towards their car.
“I think you might have to be. He was tall and muscular and so incredibly handsome. Not to mention he was like an ortho god in there.”
“Ortho god? That makes him sound like a pretty good surgeon.”
“He was an amazing surgeon, moving around bones like it was nothing then clipping veins so precisely. Made me think of another situation he could have been handling things with all that strength and precision.” Levi giggled and leaned a little closer into Nico.
The two had almost reached the car when they heard the sound of high heels clacking and turned around. Bailey was running to catch up to them. “Are you two deaf? I have been yelling since you started walking across the parking lot.” She stopped when she was standing in front of them and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
“What’s the problem?” Levi asked her.
“There’s a clerical error on one of Dr. Kim’s charts that needs to be fixed and due to legal reasons Dr. Kim has to be the one to do it.” Bailey explained.
“Okay, that’ll take two minutes. I’ll be right back.” Nico said to Levi while handing him the keys to the car.
“Not you.” Bailey held a hand in front of Nico then gestured to Levi. “The other Dr. Kim.”
**Author's Note:**
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! And if you see any grammar/spelling errors just let me know so I can go back and fix it, this is not beta-ed. |
96590c7ad89c46978bdf6bf7f9196140 | ['99c6a072dd2e4eeb9e972dbe41a17c4a'] | "Fine.” Dean jumped to his feet, all riled up for a fight that wasn’t going to happen. "Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall, anyway. It's not like I want to.”
If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said Cas looked hurt. But the dismissive wave of Cas’ hand told a different story. "Fine. I don’t want to talk to you, either.”
Dean huffed as derisively as he could manage and stomped off, trying to ignore the twinge in the pit of his stomach that suggested he'd just screwed things up with the only person he was going to be able to talk to for the next six months. Cas was just his host. There were plenty of other kids around to hang out with.
He joined Cain for the last few minutes of break, which he spent offering sympathy for all the things Cain thought were wrong about Hannah. When the bell announced the end of recess, he felt almost no relief at all about the conversation ending.
\-----
He and Cas didn’t really speak for the rest of the week. Cas’ mom showed him how to use the computer in her study to get online, and he started an email exchange with Sam. Between Sam bitching about Dad, his social worker, and the fact that the teachers at school stopped liking him once they heard about his trouble with the law (huge surprise there, Dean thought when he read that part of Sam’s passionate rant), and Dean telling Sam about all the oddities of Germany, Thursday and Friday went by without incident.
Friday night Dean found himself in the shower, using rivulets of warm water to hide tears sliding down his cheeks. This kind of crying had become familiar over the course of last year, an exhausted, almost mechanical expression of stress. He missed his mom. When they'd talked about him applying for the exchange in his sophomore year, she'd said she’d call every day while he was away, maybe even visit if there was enough money. He wished she were still around to do that. She’d have loved all the ways Germany was different, and would have known how to make them fun instead of terrifying.
When he came out of the shower, Cas’ mother—who’d offered to let him call her Naomi, which felt weird every time it passed Dean’s lips—eyed him with concern and asked him if he was okay. He reassured her that he’d just gotten shampoo in his eyes.
In his and Cas’ bedroom, he found Cas at his computer, doing what he'd spent most of his time doing the past couple of days: hacking away at his keyboard and commanding a large pixel-ogre through a green-and-grey landscape. The image on the screen never seemed to change much, but Cas’ attention never wavered.
Dean himself had raided Cas’ bookshelf for a distraction. He’d found a selection of science fiction and fantasy, interspersed with non-fiction books about bugs and plants, of all things. He’d been more surprised than he should have been to find that everything was in German. A few of the titles he already knew, but instead of rereading them in German, he'd chosen a book with a severe-looking dude on the sleeve—apparently the author, who looked like Tommy Lee Jones dressed up as Conan the Barbarian, with a no-nonsense beard and absolutely no smile on his face. Dean was three chapters into it, and riveted. The bookshelf held two more titles of the severe German author, and Dean had every intention of making his way through those as well.
Considering he and Cas weren't speaking, it looked like he was going to have a lot of time to kill over the next six months.
He'd been reading curled up on the bed with the picture of his mom on the edge of his vision for about an hour when suddenly, Cas did speak up.
"Hey.”
Dean waited for something more, but nothing came. "What's up?”
"There's a party on Saturday I'll be going to.”
"All right.” There was another long pause. "Are you asking me if I want to come with you?”
"I'm not asking anything.”
"Well—can I come with you?”
Cas glanced around. He looked pissed off, but Dean was beginning to think that might just be Cas’ face. Sure enough, after a moment he shrugged one shoulder and turned back to his computer. "Sure.”
Dean watched him work the mouse and the keyboard in quick, well-versed strokes, already completely immersed in his game again. He really wished Cas would speak to him. Even if they'd gotten off on the wrong foot, judging by Cas’ book selection, they shared at least one or two interests. And watching Cas right now, his focus as sharp as his profile broken up only by strands of thick, probably really soft hair, he looked like someone Dean could probably be friends with.
He wished their stupid fight had never happened. Maybe it wouldn’t have had to. Maybe he could have just admitted to Cas the way that he sometimes felt about boys. Cas’ reaction to anything seemed to be neutral acceptance, so maybe that's what Dean’s admission would have gotten, too.
The thought was as tempting as it was terrifying, but with six more months to go, Dean knew this was not a risk he could take. "I'm going to check my email,” he muttered and clambered out of bed to escape into Naomi’s study. He made sure not to meet Cas’ eyes as Cas looked up from the screen to watch Dean leave.
\----- | fab89b0dd4f74896bc6b1fcb36e110d6 | ['99c6a072dd2e4eeb9e972dbe41a17c4a'] | "No, I agree I can't. That's what we have surgeons for."
Cuddy rolled her eyes and got to her feet, opening the file and holding it in one hand like a preacher reciting psalms during sermon. "She's admitted with a cough and back pain. You give her steroids for anemia. She gets worse. You give her immunosuppressants. She gets worse. You give her Interferon against a viral infection. She gets worse. You give her antidepressants for- God knows what you gave her _that_ for-"
"I thought she had OSD," House said.
Cuddy didn't seem to deem that worth a comment, but only continued, " -, she gets worse! You push her to the brink of death, and everything you can come up with as a last-minute rescue is cutting her open? Not much of a rescue. It'd be easier just to stab her." She slammed the file down on the table, and House thought that if she glared at him any harder, her eyes would pop out.
"It's her only chance," he said. "She's got a pericystic tumor. If she doesn't get the surgery, her liver will explode."
"And if she does get the surgery, she'll code on the table!" Cuddy shook her head. "I can't allow it, House. Find another way."
House felt himself getting angrier and raised his voice. "There _is_ no other way, Cuddy! In her condition radiation and chemo are both out of the question. Surgery is our only option!"
"House, the patient's in a coma! She coded twice in the last thirty-six hours! Even if I gave you permission to go ahead with the surgery, no anesthesiologist in their right minds would ever agree to. . ."
She continued to speak, but her voice was drowned out by angry voices approaching and the loud bang of the office door flying open. House turned around and found himself face to face with the anger-distorted features of a man roughly the size and build of the incredible Hulk. Somewhere behind the heaps of flesh and muscle he could catch a glimpse of James Wilson in his white doctor's coat, trailing the huge man and doing everything to make himself heard over the bellows of the angry giant.
"Mr. Franks, you need to-"
"Are you Dr. House?!"
Together with the aggressive question, the Hulk blew a whiff of stale too-much-coffee-and-cigarettes-breath into his face, and House pulled back, blinking.
"Yes," he said. "Nice to meet y-"
Before he could finish the sentence, he felt a hard push and found himself stumbling backwards against Cuddy's desk, his right leg sending a sharp bolt of pain to his brain as it gave out under him. He sat down hard on his ass and had to blink a couple of times to get his bearings. As his vision cleared, he was presented with the rather intimidating view of the incredible Hulk advancing on him.
"You incompetent, no-good piece of shit of a doctor!" Huge hands closed around his collar, and House was yanked to his feet, hearing and feeling his t-shirt rip. _Stupid moron, I liked this shirt_, he thought. He would have said it out loud, but was prevented by the hands that were closing around his throat, beginning to choke him. He reached up, attempting to loosen the maniac's grip, but he might as well have tried to rip an oak tree from the ground. His vision started to get blotchy, and panic began to increase simultaneously with the need to draw a breath.
Suddenly, there was commotion on the edge of his blurry vision. The hands let go of him, and he dropped to the floor, almost continuing to choke as he tried to breathe and cough and curse at the same time. He blinked frantically, trying to make out what was going on, and saw Wilson, holding--his cane? It sure looked like his cane--like a baseball bat. Then something blocked his view, and a second later, House realized it was the incredible Hulk, who had for some reason decided to turn on Wilson. There was a lot of shouting and the sound of things falling over and breaking, and then the door flew open once more, letting in two security guards who with a little help from their tasers stopped the Hulk's rampage short and made a sudden silence fall over the office.
Coughing and gasping, House began to pick himself up from the floor. He felt a hand settle on his arm, helping him up, and looked up to see Cuddy beside him, a shocked expression on her face.
"Are you okay, House?"
"I'm-" He coughed some more, wincing at the pain in his throat. "I'm fine." He looked over to the security guards who were squatting beside their kill. "What took you guys so long?" he asked.
The shorter one of the two looked up and squinted at him. "Maybe one of you should take a look at this," he said. "I'm no doctor, but this doesn't look so good."
Only then did House realize that the two guards weren't merely making sure that the incredibly maniacal Hulk didn't bounce back up and kill them all. There was another figure lying on the floor, half-obscured by the massive form of the fallen giant, wearing a white doctor's coat and not moving.
House pushed himself off Cuddy's desk and, ignoring the various aches and pains in his leg, back, neck and throat, quickly limped over to where Wilson was lying on the floor. As he got closer, an uneasy feeling spread in his stomach. Wilson was obviously unconscious, his eyes were closed, and-
"Oh, _fuck_."
House stopped in his tracks, steadying himself on the beefy shoulder of one of the security guards. "Cuddy, get an emergency team up here, stat."
Cuddy, who was right behind him, followed his eyes, and House heard her gasp. She hurried over to the desk and picked up her phone. |
678d062b62304fe892c16cd33fed4710 | ['99d23b083c4a4c7fbd5ab91f6e5bdd14'] | “I need to be straightforward with you.” Putting down her cup, Yuna tried to look at Seokmin in the eyes. “I didn’t know how you perceived my feelings before, but all I knew was that I always liked it every time we hung out, getting to know each other more. Now that I’m older, I can tell you now that I’ve always liked you, even though we cut ties... I’m sorry about that.”
Seokmin waited for her to say anything else, chin rested on his palm and face remained expressionless. It was quite dumb for Yuna to even think about how she enjoyed this sight, after being used to see it only on pictures taken by his fans. Even so, she could notice how much weight he managed to lose.
“I’ve always wanted to apologize for my mistakes and hoped if we could start over – no, wait a minute.” Yuna was stunned for a while, suddenly unable to form any words she’d always wanted to say. “If we could, you know, start being comfortable with each other from now on. As friends, of course, even when I just told you about my feelings...”
They went silent for a while, not minding the occasional stare directed at any of them. The first person to break the silence was Seokmin, standing up as if he’s going to leave soon.
“Hm. Give me some time to think about it. Until then, sunbaenim.” He politely bowed and made his way to the door.
This time, he left her alone. She could feel her heart aching already.
For the first time after a long time, Yuna was able to shower at night without being rushed to finish quickly. It felt good to let the stress from the whole day washed away. Also for the first time after a while, Yuna had a heart-to-heart talk with Sojung and Eunha in the kitchen, while the other had gone.
Seeing how Sojung opened up about her insecurity as leader of the group, Yuna just wanted to give her a lot of reassurance. None of anything happened recently were the leader’s fault, she should stop blaming herself.
“Don’t say that,” Yuna paused, taking a look at how flustered Eunha was with Sojung’s statement earlier. “You take a good care of us, five of us, both as leader and eldest unnie. No one is flawless, but we wouldn’t ask for another person to lead us in this group because you fit in just right with us.”
Yuna gave the eldest time to calm down, squeezing her hands tight, before the little girl beside her broke the silence.
She had known Eunha’s feeling towards their senior for a while because she always managed to notice the way the elder reacted whenever his name was mentioned, as well as the few times they were jamming to his group’s song, Eunha’s expression would brighten up during Jimin’s part. Yuna’s only concern was that she didn’t want Eunha to end up being trapped in uncertainty like her.
“If Jimin sunbaenim doesn’t accept your feelings, then, we will help you move on and well, if he does, then you will have time to worry about the next step to make then. You can’t keep them to yourself indefinitely, or you will break down, Eunbi.” She totally sounded like she was pleading, but it was for her own good.
“If this can make you feel better – or maybe motivated,” Yuna blurted, both her hands reaching Eunha’s shoulders this time. “I confessed to Seokmin the other day.”
“You did!?” Sojung and Eunha half-shouted almost in unison, although not enough to wake Yewon – whom she shared her bedroom with – up. Yuna mentally reminded herself to check up on her again before her (late) bedtime later.
To that, the youngest of three could only nod, letting out a long sigh afterwards. “I mean, you two know how we were best friends in high school but then we just stopped talking when we debuted, even when we’re classmates for the last year of school.”
Eunha remained silent, somehow reminded by how flustered Yuna was to see Seokmin back then during their graduation, which was unusual considering how close – or so the others said – they were before, while Sojung tried to keep her composure and gave the younger a concerned look.
“But I just... we were both trainees and even back then I couldn’t say that I liked him so I tried to let him go, but _absence make the heart grow fonder_ , you know?” she paused, her eyes already stinging. Although she promised herself not to be a crybaby, there’s always some instance where she ended up breaking the promise over and over again. “Even though he didn’t exactly move far away from here, I know. When we finally met again, I told him exactly about how I feel towards him, and he said that he needed time to think about it. That... that was also what I did when I let him go, so it’s like karma—”
“... biting you back. I get it.” Eunha announced.
“Yeah.”
“I think, if he said he needed time, he really meant it.” Sojung said, followed with it was a nod from Eunha. “From what I’ve seen—” _and heard, courtesy of Seungcheol_ , “—he has feelings for you, too, Yuna-yah.”
To be honest, Yuna had heard that from Jeonghan too, from the text he sent her few weeks back. It was pretty much what kept her from thinking the opposite, the worst scenario. But then again, it had been more than a year, and so many thing could change within that range of time. | e3a371d820db434d84958f37160529c3 | ['99d23b083c4a4c7fbd5ab91f6e5bdd14'] | jeonghan wasn’t (lies, he actually was) expecting junhui to actually _attack_ him with kisses all over his face. they were kind of ticklish, but jeonghan still enjoyed having the younger’s lips pressed on him. he could feel his own heart beating faster than normal, but at the same time he could hear the faint sound of junhui’s heart doing the same thing. his subconscious wanted to scream in happiness, kicking his jealousy away.
it was satisfying to know that jeonghan finally got what he deserved, after so many times junhui teased him by giving his affection to almost every members _but him_. (to be fair, junhui also tried to save them from getting the typical _stop being gross with jeonghan hyung!_ comment, especially from seungkwan.)
“i’m so happy. whose boyfriend are you, junhui?” jeonghan asked in a very tooth-rotting tone, finally facing junhui with his chest on top of him.
“jeonghannie-hyung’s, of course.”
**Author's Note:**
> ... i'm like TT.
>
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> i know it's not beta-ed and such but i'm so excited because i spent almost seven hours in starbucks churning out ideas for like five prompts. while watching the downpour. how productive. |
940dbcafb8b14783be0ccedcad4bb71b | ['99dcfe876dd840ea91d36cf6a1ec2a85'] | “I’ll be fine, Cas. I’ve still got some stuff to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And it was only then that it occurred to him that he might not. If things went badly with Sam, there could be no tomorrow for Dean, no trip to San Francisco, no more Cas.
“Goodbye Dean” The man turned to leave.
“Wait!” Dean cried, catching him by the arm, possessed by the sudden urgency of his realization. “I- I love you Cas. Do you understand?”
He felt a shiver pass through Cas. “Yes. I understand. And I love you to. Irrationally, inexplicably, infinitely.”
“Alliteration, seriously?”
“It was an attempt to be poetic.”
Dean smiled, he hoped not too sadly, and kissed Cas again, this time on the mouth.
“Hey guys.”
Dean let go of Cas and looked up suddenly to see Sam.
“Hello Sam.” Cas said, seemingly without embarrassment. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”
When Cas was gone, Sam said nothing but raised his eyebrows at Dean.
“Shut up.” Dean muttered.
It was stupid to go in at all, but it was supider to go in uninformed. Dean found some video about how to kill ghosts. Like Mythbusters but dumber and with more guns. Still, it seemed informative. Figure out who it was, burn the remains, simple as that. Right?
Best part was, they didn’t even have to leave the building. Dean swallowed as they took the elevator down to the fourteenth floor, the one Sam suspected, held the key to all this shit. He had never been a brave kid, why start now? But he had to do what his circumstances demanded, and that was kill a ghost.
“Scared?” Sam said it like he wasn’t even phased himself.
“Shut up.”
“No, but really, this is kind of a big thing. You nervous?”
“Well, yeah. I’m fucking terrified, is that weird to you?”
“No, I’m kind of pissing myself too.” Sam admitted.
“I just… I had this big business trip planned, I don’t want to miss it and I-“
“You’re afraid you’ll never see Cas again right?”
“Dude, boundaries!”
“Look, I saw the way you two were together, look man, it’s cool, no judgment. I- I hope we make it through this so you can see him again.”
“How long were you standing there?”
“Since the alliteration.”
“Oh.” Dean couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.
“It’s cool man.”
The doors opened with an unceremonious _ping_. The fourteenth floor hallway seemed poorly lit in comparison to the others. The older floors always gave Dean the creeps. He didn’t like the feeling of walking in the footsteps of people who were dead, of overlapping with them.
“Here, room 1444.” Sam tried the door and it gave weakly.
The two of them rifled through the clutter of the office-turned supply closet. Nothing, no lifesaving object ready to yield up ghost DNA.
“Hey!”
At the sound of the guard’s voice, Dean ducked behind a shelf. Sam though, either too big or too slow, was caught in the open.
“It’s fine,” he said, “I work here.”
“Tell that to the cops.”
The man dragged Sam away, the larger man settling into a kind of begrudging compliance. This left Dean alone. In the dark. In a haunted closet. He felt like he was in the middle of a horror movie, the dumbass who you just know is going to be killed off because he’s too normal and too stupid for this kind of thing. But nothing happened. No ghost, not yet anyway. Dean kept digging. Sam had his phone; he’d let Dean know where he was and when he would get back up.
It was a few more tense minutes before Dean remembered the gloves on the twenty-second floor. It was with a certain amount of relief that he closed the door on the supply-closet. Ghost or no ghost, that place freaked him the hell out.
Sam called and said he was on his way. He sounded panicked, his voice shook and when he told Dean to take the stairs, Dean didn’t ask why but he listened. The stairs were good for him anyway, all eight agonizing flights of them.
There it was, the gallery, the wall and display cases devoted to the company’s history. And the centerpiece of the whole thing, a pair of very old, black gloves. That was it. If anything still kept old man Sandover’s DNA, it was those gloves. Now all they had to do was burn them.
Sam arrived, looking like hell. His yellow polo shirt was splattered with dark blood, his face, though clean, was wild with fear.
“That’s a lot of blood.” Was all Dean could muster.
“Yeah.”
Sam unpacked the iron crowbars, handing one to Dean. Together, they smashed the glass of the case. Every law-abiding bone in Dean’s body pleaded with him not to damage company property, but too late.
Dean barely even saw the old man before he was lifted up by some unseen force, and hurled against a wall as if he were as light as a ball of paper. The moment his head hit the wall, things went fuzzy. It hurt like hell but worse was the spinning. It never looked like it hurt this much on TV. But the thing was advancing on Sam. It was grotesque, human in form but somehow _wrong_ , the old man’s face a mask of malignance. Dean wanted to help but couldn’t even get it together to sit up straight. Somehow, Sam managed to grab the salt and save himself. Dean pulled himself up as best he could.
“Nice.” He said, faintly.
Then it was his turn to swing at the thing for Dean life, then both of them together. It didn’t stay gone for long each time, flickering back in less than a second. | 8c1b6e2620f24e25a61453ed06b43a67 | ['99dcfe876dd840ea91d36cf6a1ec2a85'] | “Damn it, damn it!” His voice broke. Dean cried. Unashamedly wept alone in his dark room.
He felt like he was falling, plummeting. All he wanted was something to hold onto. There was nothing. That was when the thought entered his mind. _He could make it go away, all of it._ He pushed the insidious notion from his mind. For now.
Sam called again but Dean did not answer. He glanced at the phone, then laid back down on the blanket, damp with his sweat. His whole body hurt. Guilt weighed on his chest and fear, fear of himself, and the possibility that his faculties had left him. _It could end. He’d killed Cas, it only made sense_. No. No. He had to remember what it was like to be normal. _If he ever had been, if he wasn’t crazy_. No. He had to get through this, this was just a really bad day he could move on. _His world was falling apart. He didn’t exist, his mother didn’t exist, Cas didn’t exist but Dean had killed him anyway._ Dean couldn’t, just couldn’t go on. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders and it was crushing the life out of him.
It was six by the time Dean gave in. He had an old bottle of sleeping pills in the cabinet behind his bathroom mirror. He didn’t know how many you were supposed to take to kill yourself. The whole bottle should do it. He took them in handfuls of six or seven, aided down his throat by gulps of water. His hands didn’t shake. Actually, it was the first time all day that he had stopped shaking. He knew then that there was no going back, and that was okay. This would all be over soon, all fade to black, and crumble away like dry sand.
He unbuttoned his shirt a little, laid back on the bed and began to count back from one hundred.
“Seventy nine,” he waited for it to feel like dying.
“Seventy eight,” for it to become painful or scary.
“Seventy seven,” It didn’t feel like death, not yet, not really.
“Seventy six,” his limbs were growing heavy.
“Seventy five,” he couldn’t move his fingers or toes.
“Seventy four,” he was numb.
“Seventy three,” darkness was beginning to encroach on his vision.
“Seventy… sev… fuck.” He lost count.
Dean was floating in a void, yet somehow he knew, he felt that he was not dead. Not yet. There was a voice, familiar and heartening.
“Dean. Oh, Dean.”
_Cas!_ He thought without words, as great elation bubbled up in his chest, _Cas was alive!_ Or calling to him from beyond the veil, either way it was good news.
“Dean, I’m going to save you. Hold on now, don’t die.”
Light shone around him, not bright and blinding, but warm. He felt himself being lifted, pulled as if by strings attached to his chest.
The darkness gave way to a blotchy kind of reality, a particular, flesh toned blob in the foreground of his vision eventually resolved itself into the concerned face of Castiel.
“Cas! Oh god Cas you’re not dead!” He moaned, reaching with still heavy arms to pull the other man toward him. It was only when he had successfully toppled Cas and felt his rough unshaven cheek against his neck that he paused and wondered aloud, “wait, how are you alive? I- I’m so glad you are, I’m sorry, so sorry for shooting you!”
“Hush, Dean, you’re still recovering.” Cas pushed himself up and sat beside Dean on the bed. “I realize this must be very shocking for you. I never should have let you think I was dead, I see that now.”
“Let me- what?” Dean sat up with some difficulty to again meet Cas on his level. “What the hell, man?”
“Dean I… haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“No shit.” Dean muttered, trying not to be too bitter even after the terrible events of the day.
“I’m an angel of the Lord, Dean.” Normally such a statement would make Dean laugh, but there was a severity in Cas’s eyes that was not to be scoffed at.
“What? Like full on Christmas carol, harp and wings angel?”
“I do not have a harp, and I was not present at the birth of Christ. But yes, I am an angel.”
“So we- I- with an angel?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Okay, I can figure this out. And you were in my dreams too. That time in Greenland. That was real?”
“Also yes.”
“So why _did_ you let me think you were dead? Couldn’t you have used some crazy angel magic or something?”
“I assumed you didn’t want my help. I thought it best to step back and let you handle it. Evidently I should not have done so. Oh, Dean,” his voice softened slightly and he raised a hand to touch Dean’s cheek. “I never wanted to see you hurt. The whole point of my intervening was to protect you.”
“Should I feel special, getting the hot guardian angel?”
“Stop making light of the situation, Dean, we’re in danger. Both of us. You have demons after you, and angels playing games with you. And me, I’ve been listening to angel radio. I’m in trouble for what we did. If they catch me I- I could be killed.”
“For the sex? That was against the rules?”
“Yes. It seems I’m on the bad side of heaven.” The angel sighed. “I was only trying to do my job.”
“I’m sorry.” Said Dean, “That was my fault, wasn’t it. I did push it a bit.” |
4b1005a18be8458da47a48a2ac80e7fc | ['99e92b6ba22e41c8844e2d10f56f090f'] | “He handed out candy like drugs for all of elementary and middle school. How couldn’t you know?” Taehyun squirmed in Yeonjun’s grip, stopping at the door and bringing him aside to let other students in. “Just let them figure it out. It could be nothing, for all we know.”
Soobin continued to give Kai candy. And he continued to call him Hyuka, and continued to smile at him like nothing else mattered.
Kai came to sit with them at lunch, surprising Soobin and Beomgyu, but of course it wasn’t unwelcome.
“Oh, hey Hyuka.” Soobin placed a jolly rancher in front of him and went back to his food, Kai returning his smile before drinking his soda.
“Hi.”
They sat together for the rest of the term, small talk becoming deep conversation, about the stupidest things. Days becoming weeks, the five of them seeing school not just in classes, but in test dates. Stress piled.
They tried to keep the jokes new and the air light. The year was coming to an end, they’d say. Just a little more.
“I’m _ telling _ you, Jaw Breakers were made to torture children.” Yeonjun eyed Taehyun’s Japchae from across the table, watching him pick at the noodles.
“Maybe your teeth just aren’t hard enough, hyung.” Beomgyu laid his head in his crossed arms on the table, looking over at him.
“That’s impossible. Nobody’s teeth are hard enough to bite through that.” Yeonjun huffed. “Maybe kids had like, superpower teeth or something when they were first created.”
“Now _ that’s _ impossible, Junnie.” Taehyun said, muffled. He smiled after a noodle disappeared past his lips.
Soobin had his textbook at the table, last minute notes bulletpointed in his head.
“Soobin, you’re going to do great.” Kai patted the top edge of his textbook and the older looked up.
“Hopefully.”
On the day of the last Anatomy exam, Kai walked up to Soobin’s desk. He was sleeping with one arm over the edge of the desk, his headphones in, accompanied by two drowsy boys on either side of him, Yeonjun and Beomgyu.
“Hi, Kai, how are you? Been so busy the last few days,” Yeonjun blinked a couple times, trying to wake up a little to converse with the younger.
“Good, I’m good. I just want a jolly rancher…” Kai bounced his hand on his leg, sitting on one of the desks in front of them. “But also, I have to talk to Soobin after class.. So could you tell him to wait for me?”
“Yeah, we can,” Beomgyu piped up. He smiled at the younger. “Do what you need to before the test, and we can take care of it. Also…” He held a finger up to tell him to stay there, and reached into Soobin’s bag, pulling out not one jolly rancher, but a handful. He handed them to Kai and pointed to Soobin. “He’s really tired. Be careful what you say with him. He might not understand it fully with the state he’s in,”
Kai nodded, picking a fuzz out of Soobin’s hair before hopping off the desk and saying ‘good luck’ to Beomgyu and Yeonjun. He walked back to his seat.
Yeonjun shoved Soobin and he cried out, sitting up immediately.
“Yeah? What?” He calmed after a second and rubbed his eyes.
“Your sweetheart wants to meet you after class. Says he’s got something to tell you.” Beomgyu shrugged when Soobin returned his statement with a confused look. “Beats me. He didn’t say anything other than, ‘I want a jolly rancher and I want to talk to Soobin’.”
“Looks like your free candy tactics worked, lucky you.” Yeonjun patted his back lightly, then shushed him, pointing to the board. “You’ll have your time to argue with me later, focus on the exam.”
Soobin groaned. “Okay.”
After class, Soobin stretched, waiting for Yeonjun and Beomgyu at the door. He wondered if he’d really studied more than usual like he thought. The test seemed too easy. He dismissed the thought and focused his eyes on someone else. Kai packed up his things and turned to leave, waving to the teacher and his friend before leaving for the door. There were only a few students left in the classroom, including Yeonjun and Beomgyu who still sat at their desks. Soobin threw his arms up in the air, motioning for them to join him, but Beomgyu shook his head and pointed at Kai.
“You know what you’ve gotta do, hyung,” He whisper-yelled across the room, laughing as Soobin rolled his eyes.
Kai met him at the door. “Hi,”
“Hey.” Soobin looked back once more at the pair, flicking them off before leaving the room with the younger boy.
“I think I have a jolly rancher.. If you want one…” He reached into his side pocket, unhappy to see that there was only one left. He offered it to Kai.
“Your friends didn’t tell you after you woke up?” Kai raised an eyebrow.
“Tell me what?” Soobin posed a question back.
“Nevermind. Can I have that?” Kai pointed to the lone candy enclosed in his palm. Soobin handed it to him.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” They walked down the hall, the older’s question going unanswered for a while, until Kai pulled him into the corridor behind the stairwell, stopping to smile at him. Kai opened the candy and reached up to hold it in front of Soobin’s mouth.
“Open up,” Soobin did, and in went a cherry jolly rancher.
“That was supposed to be for you.” The older mumbled.
Kai fidgeted with his hands. “Nevermind that,” He sighed. “I wanted to ask you something.. But I don’t know if I have so much control over my nerves right now..”
“So…” Soobin tucked his hands in his pockets.
“I’m just going to show you.. Okay?” Kai whispered, making eye contact with the older. | 53871abf542846abaf90fc5bbd2d13da | ['99e92b6ba22e41c8844e2d10f56f090f'] |
nothing like nostalgia.
**Author's Note:**
> a gift to my best friend. (you're so much more than you believe you are.)
It was close to two. The sun hadn’t come up yet; it’s light wasn’t needed for what I was doing anyway. I stepped over the heater in the hallway and grabbed the car keys off the counter, choosing to fuck around instead of sleeping. Sleep, who was she?
The screen door slammed in contrast to how quiet I’d been, and I cursed under my breath because, _ god damn it all, why can’t I just get away with something? _
The sky outside was clear, I noticed, as I started the car and glanced up out of the window. Stars peeked behind scattered wisps of clouds, but nothing too heavy. It was the best night to do this.
I fished my phone out of my pocket and balanced it against my shoulder, the dial tone bringing back simple memories of a time when, perhaps, I shouldn’t have heard it. At a party, maybe, where everyone was realizing I was the only sober kid in the middle of a bunch of drunks.
“What do you want?” Jin’s voice came tiredly through the speaker.
“You,” I smiled.
“That’s not the reason why you called me.” He replied.
“Nope. It sure isn’t. Meet me outside your apartment in ten.” I clicked the end button, not letting him get the chance to complain. He would scoff at the thought of me being sympathetic though, so I thought nothing more of it. Before I could decide whether or not to call him back and apologize, I’d already arrived in front. And there it was, there _ he _ was, running out the door, locking it before joining me in the car.
“It’s cold as fuck.” Jin shivered, scrunching his shoulders and pulling his sweatshirt cuffs past his knuckles.
“What do you mean? It’s perfect weather,” I hit my chest dramatically, then made for the heat switch.
I pulled off the street and back into the main one, glancing at him every now and then. He had lost some of his tension and was comfortable in the seat, when I noticed a band logo on the front of his jacket. _ Good times. _
“You’re going to get yourself killed, you know that?” Jin sighed.
I tilted my head. “How so?”
“Your mom’s going to kill you,” He gestured to the car keys. “Stop stealing her car.”
“Well until you buy me one of my _ own _ \- ” I trailed off as he slapped my shoulder gently, making a face. “What? You think I have that kind of money?”
“No…” Jin’s own grin was plastered prettily to his face, a tinge of red coloring the high points of his nose and cheeks. “Why’d you call me at 2am?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, baby.”
The drive was quiet, one of the Neighborhood’s albums playing softly from the audio input. I let my mind wander, the few people that were still out and driving or strolling staying way out of my lane. It was smooth, a coast, maybe. I sunk down a little in my seat and kept one hand on the wheel, tapping my finger against the worn brown leather.
“Why tonight? Any other night could be just as good, right?” He bumped my arm on the middle console and I blinked.
“I just miss doing this with you. The night doesn’t matter.” I glanced up at the sky through the windshield and paused. “Besides, there’s nobody else I’d rather share a night with.”
He stayed silent. There was a moment where I realized the time had caught up with us, and it was close to three now. I waited for him to say something. Anything. When he’s only a bit in contact with you, and you’re not looking at him, he could disappear. Again.
He slid his fingers into my palm and weaved them between my own. We pulled up into a gravelly path, and I parked the car, letting his hand gravitate back to its owner.
I smiled as I shut the door, meeting his eyes and walking with my back towards my destination.
“Come on, baby.” I jutted my chin at him, motioning for him to join me. He did, after a moment of fixing his hoodie. It was then that in the soft grass I fell, Jin’s body crashing down on top of mine. It was a messy, ugly action, but what did it matter, because he was within my sight, within my arms. Never drifting too far from my possession.
And perhaps, we were the protagonists of a tragedy. Or perhaps, we were just two ordinary boys, waiting for the right time to fuck up the future.
I pulled into my brain, stuck in something there, until Jin’s head collided with my shoulder, and I made a bitchy sound, whining as he got comfortable, a leg over my own and his arms over my chest. I decided then that it was best to stay here, looking at the patterns of glittery stars, luminescent in a sea of navy abyss. I could choose to leave him in the dust another day, when my self consciousness got the best of me, when I felt it was better to let him travel the dark countryside by himself.
Would I ever do that?
_ Of course you will. _
I slapped my thigh in an attempt to bring myself back to reality. All it did was make me aware a bug had welcomed itself in my ear, and I squirmed childishly, squishing my shoulder into the lobe before letting a groan slip past my lips.
“Hey,” I whispered. Jin moved his head to look up at me.
“Hm?”
I let the silence swallow us once more before it spit us out into an awkward pause.
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. |
a372fcb09ead4d79837efe9db2b5b20c | ['99f509db0e6e4124820c260004c09c05'] | Strange. She was rarely ever called to the office, and when she was it was almost always her guidance counselor, but she knew he didn’t work today. And even then, he usually came to get her himself. And the only other time she saw people going to the office was when they were being punished. She suddenly felt anxious—something didn’t seem right.
Apprehensively, she went down to the first floor and knocked on the door to the main office. “ _Come in,_ ” she heard from inside.
Once she entered the door, a cold chill ran down her spine. There he sat, Mr. Rich-Alpha, across the desk from the house advisor, Ms. Cora. What could they possibly want with her? She hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time in which she’d ever gotten in trouble for anything. She was quiet and kept to herself as much as she could.
Rich-Alpha stood and flashed her that dazzling and dark smile. He was dressed to the nines, as always—an expensive three-piece suit, this time navy blue. She couldn’t imagine how much that could have cost. Likely more money than she had ever thought of seeing. “Please come in, Olivia,” Ms. Cora said, motioning to the other seat in front of the desk.
Feeling her stomach twist and turn with anxiety, she crossed the room to sit. She wasn’t exactly sure how she should act. She had been taught the proper way to address and treat alphas, but her mind had chosen that moment to conveniently forget everything she’d ever learned. Not to mention she rarely ever had contact with alphas. But you’d think that after years of having it drilled into her head, she’d remember.
Swallowing heavy, she politely nodded towards Rich-Alpha. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long to remember that Alphas like to be addressed as such. “ _Alpha,_ ” she muttered under her breath.
Looking up, she saw Ms. Cora was not pleased. So, she cleared her throat and said, “Uh, sorry. Good evening Mr. Alpha, Ms. Cora.”
_Wait for the alpha to sit first before taking your own seat_ , she remembered, as she reached her designated chair.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Olivia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Ms. Cora,” the alpha responded. His voice was deep and thick, like honey. He smelled heavenly this close—woodsy with hints of freshly cut grass. Even with her lack of alpha interaction, she couldn’t imagine a better alpha scent than his. “Please, sit.”
_But why on earth would he be talking about me with Ms. Cora_ , she wondered.
“Olivia, I’d like you to meet Mr. Andrei Moroii.”
“Nice to meet you,” Olivia said, eyes in her lap as she twiddled her fingers. _Never look a stranger alpha in the eye_.
“Please, call me Andrew. My name comes from my Romanian heritage, but Andrew makes it much easier to fit in, don’t you think?” She lifted her head in small shock, eyes wide. Did he just ask her to call him by his name? _His first name_? Not by alpha or Mr. Moroii?
“Ah, sorry,” she muttered, quickly lowering her gaze once more. She silently chastised herself. _Good job, idiot, you JUST remembered that you can’t look an alpha in the eyes and you do so within the first minute of meeting one._
She was shocked once more when she heard him chuckle. “Olivia, you are more than welcome to look at me. I won’t bite.”
With her own nervous chuckle, she looked up, but saw something dark in those eyes that made her wish she hadn’t. _Something is seriously wrong with this man—he reminds me of a snake about to strike his prey_ , she thought, but gave him a small smile anyways.
“Olivia, I have called you in to tell you that Mr. Moroii has expressed interest in taking you as his omega.” If her eyes were wide with shock before, she couldn’t imagine what she looked like now, staring at Ms. Cora.
“I’m…I’ve only just turned 16. I am not at the age to be chosen as an omega yet,” she expressed her confusion.
“These circumstances are…unique, Olivia. Mr. Moroii believes, by the smell of your pheromones, that your heat will start much earlier than a normal omega. He took an interest in you the first day he came to the home. He would like to make the situation as painless as possible for you. You have seen first hand omegas that have not been chosen and are forced to endure their first heat alone.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Omegas could smell pheromones, too, and no one had told her that her scent had changed. She was surrounded by omegas, surely someone would have said something. These two must be crazy. “But Ms—”
“Oliva,” she interrupted, sharply. “I am sure you have noticed Mr. Moroii visiting here often in the past month. You have been our only topic of discussion—this was not a decision we made lightly. We have thoroughly vetted Mr. Moroii and believe he will be an excellent match as your alpha. Due to your young age, we were reluctant to allow your sale. However, he has paid a great deal of money to ensure that you will belong to him—nearly three times the normal worth of an omega. You are a smart girl. You have been here far longer than most of these girls, due to the tragic circumstances you found yourself in many years ago. You know as well as I do that this is not an offer we are in position to refuse.” | 83a981f47e1141918eab680fcc9b1db0 | ['99f509db0e6e4124820c260004c09c05'] | > They probably thought she had Stockholm Syndrome. And maybe they were right. But it didn’t really matter what they called it. It was real to her. She loved him, and putting a psychological name on top of it wasn’t going to change that fact. And, once again, she felt her opinion should be the only one that mattered.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> :( I would say please enjoy this chapter, but you surely won't.
They kept telling her she was a victim. Over and over that word was tossed out. But they treated her like a criminal. It made Grace furious. She was supposed to be the victim, but no one wanted to hear what she had to say. Everyone that came in pretended that they were there for her, but they wouldn’t answer the one question she had. ‘Where’s Ryan?’
Everyone kept telling her that she was safe and that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. But she’d always been safe with Ryan. He never would have hurt her. There were so many opportunities, but she hurt him more than he hurt her. She stabbed him with a fork. Maybe they should have been protecting themselves _from_ her, because if they came into that room and gave her a fork, she just might stab one of them with it, too.
When she got to the police station, they’d given her one of those trauma blankets, as if she was the star of some TV show where she survived a horrific plane crash. But it wasn’t cold outside. In fact, it was hot. _Why would they do that?_ She threw it on the floor, annoyed.
For the past nine months, she was in one place. She only ever saw their house, their yard, and Ryan’s garage. The room she was in now was awful. Bare white walls, two chairs, and a little table. So small. At least when Ryan kidnapped her, she had an entire basement.
There was no code on the door, but when she tried to leave the first time, two officers stopped her.
She felt trapped. Which would have been funny if she wasn’t so angry and upset. Feeling free with the man who was supposed to be the villain and feeling trapped by the people who were supposed to be the heroes.
They didn’t feel like heroes at all.
And she wasn’t stupid. Ryan wasn’t the hero, either. He had always been the villain. He kidnapped her. He might have done it for what he thought was a good reason, but he still did it. And she hadn’t wanted it at first. So, Ryan was the villain. But sometimes villains turn out to be good under the surface. And Ryan definitely was.
But those ‘heroes’ who took her weren’t very heroic. They broke into her home and dragged her out of bed. Literally. They restrained her, the victim, so she couldn’t fight. They took her away, but she didn’t want to go. She begged them, but they didn’t reply. That was villain behavior if she’d ever seen it.
They were only doing their jobs, she knew. But Grace thought a victim should get to decide what they want. Victims of kidnapping are taken against their will, without a choice. And that’s why people are sent to rescue them. But her rescuers didn’t give her a choice, either. How ‘good’ could they possibly be? She hadn’t been able to choose anything for herself since she’d woken up to men stomping down the stairs.
She laughed out loud at the cruel irony that she’d been kidnapped twice by authorities—once by a police officer nine months ago; and then again that morning by a whole fleet of them, this time kidnapping her from the first kidnapper.
The door opened behind her, but she didn’t have the energy to turn around. It was just going to be another person telling her that she was ‘safe’ now. Then they would refuse to answer any questions she had.
A small older women came into view. “Hello, Miss Mitchell. I’m Dr. Jordan and I’ve been assigned as your psychiatrist. I’m just here to talk to you for a little while.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you, unless you can answer my question.”
“I’ll do my best, dear,” the woman said, smiling and settling down in the chair across from her.
“Where is Ryan? What is happening to him?”
“You’re safe now, dear. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She ground her teeth together in frustration. “He never hurt me in the first place. Where is he?”
She smiled sadly. “You may not believe that he hurt, you, dear, but he did. I’d like to talk with you about that a little more. Could you explain to me what happened? From the beginning?” Grace glared at her. “We are all here to help you, Grace. Would you like me to get you something to eat or drink?”
“Where’s Bella?”
“Bella is your little sister, correct? She has been told that you were found, but we can’t let the two of you reconnect just yet.”
“Victim. That’s what I am, right? But why keep a ‘victim’ away from her family? Shouldn’t that be like first priority? Reuniting me with the people I love?”
“Dear—”
“Stop calling me dear.” It was really pissing her off. The fake ‘you matter and are very important to us’ spiel. She’d heard it over and over.
She knew how rude she was being. But she didn’t really care. Because no one was helping her, so why should she help them?
“Miss Mitchell, we really need you to work with us. There is so much we need to sort through, and you’re the only one who can help.” After more of the silent treatment, the woman sighed. “I’m going to grab some coffee for the both of us. I will be right back.” |
b0133f6f9098474abc4396579483a295 | ['9a181e3296734b15b68cb0ab0cdeeacd'] | With the details of my plan finalized, I tilt slightly to bridge the distance between us, to destroy any hope of breaking the family curse. It's not an action borne of malice, but merely a simple wish to relive what I did with Father. I hated the sensations and the uncomfortable feeling of lying next to him, knowing that it was a sin, but the attention and the knowledge that, for once, he was interested in me was terribly alluring—and always silenced my objections. And I realized, when I was alone with Cain and the birds, that I might have that again. Different person, same result. I want the pain of the ambiguity such a love leaves, the pain of his love, because I cannot bear to be unfaithful to Father. And so I'll use Cain to revive every memory of Father's love and the accompanying pain and hatred and misery, because I don't know what's left after Father. The pain, at least, is a constant.
As I move to begin our certain destruction, I catch the almost-fear in his eyes, and shame comes over me at my thoughts. For all my hatred of him, for all the times Father reminded me just who was the wanted son, for all the joy his existence leeched from mine, I cannot bring myself to seduce my own brother.
Even if it means that I must deal with this madness alone.
I drop my gaze in favor of pretending to follow the printed morning glory vines of the wallpaper. I suppose he will never know how close he came to becoming his father, but the relief in his posture suggests otherwise. This quiet decision between the both of us, to let the family curse go unacted upon, bonds us in a way that carnal knowledge never would. He moves to straighten my covers, carefully avoiding the lines of my body, and in this almost paternal act, I finally understand why he has returned, why he has been treating me as he has.
"You're not being fair to Riff," I begin, although not unkindly. "You think that if you can only focus enough on me that you can deny his death, but imitating him will not restore him to life. He's gone."
Cain's expression of pain confirms my hypothesis. "Uncle Neil had his room cleared out. There's _nothing_ of him left, save his journal and a shirt I stole. I cannot bear it. His existence, reduced to words and letters and memories." Unspoken in his words is the quiet terror that the memories have already begun to fade. "When—if!—I read it, there will be nothing left of him."
The newly replenished bouquet of bluebells and heather stands accusingly in the light, and I realize that the task that Riff left in his absence now falls to me—and me alone. I must take care of him, take care of the boy whose existence damned mine. Because in the end, we are the ones who must live on and make do with what has been left. Perhaps, in our small ways, we are all trying to amend the damage that Father has wrought. It reminds me of the story in which the twelfth fairy changes the curse to sleep rather than death. _Sleeping Beauty_ , I think.
"I'll read it then. That way you will know the contents, but you can still have the words unread."
Surprise at my offer registers with him. He searches my face, as if waiting for the reveal; finding none, he twists his slender fingers in contemplation. He gives me one final look, still anticipating a malicious remark, before leaving my room. I have almost settled back to sleep, the candle slowly flickering out, when he returns with the little leather journal I remember from Riff's bedside. He hands it to me with an unspoken plea, and briefly, I contemplate the joys of ruining his reluctant trust. Still, the thought is not as appealing as it used to be. I think I have seen a bit too much of him now, to relish ruining his life. While not as miserable as my existence, his is not the life of milk and honey that Father claimed.
What a pity.
Now that I cannot cling to the promise of making his life the hell mine was, what is there left? Living for myself seems such a hollow act, as I cannot deny the thousand, thousand strings that bind me, willingly and unwillingly, to humanity. At the same time, what has been done cannot be redacted. Mary will always harbor some fear—if not outright resentment—of me, for what I have done. I could explain everything to her, when she is older, but I doubt that will have an impact. Even with Cain, every so often, I catch the workings of fear in his eyes, and I can never decide if it pleases me or not. And I, I will always have the knowledge of what has been lost. If we are a family, then it is one bound by fear and terror.
And yet, there is something within me, the rebellious, treacherous part, that cannot relinquish this possibility of life without Father, with the family I should have known. This part that led me to make the choice that has shaped my life, and so many others so. If I had simply let Cassian die there, on the floor of Cassandra's mansion, none of this would have happened. I'd have died, either from my own hand or at Father's, and Cain would never have been able to say his goodbyes to Riff. How strange that my first act of compassion towards a human being could have such repercussions, such far reaching effects. Of course, it was partially fueled by his own sacrifice for me, that moment when time stopped and I realized that that was not at all what I wanted, that I had misjudged him. | 47baff071cd5408ca9ff2f179deebdb8 | ['9a181e3296734b15b68cb0ab0cdeeacd'] | And then, just as before, and perhaps _because_ of before, she takes my hand again, chubby fingers barely covering my own, and she slowly turns my forearm towards her. She lowers her guard when I allow her this indulgence, and inspects the fresh gauze I applied at Cassian's insistence. He, in turn, moves next to Mary; co-conspirators, I suspect. Her furrowed worry gives way to annoyance as she spots the disheveled braid. I had meant to brush it out, but somehow I could not bear to undo her handiwork.
"Don't they teach you how to undo braids in medical school," she quips, though not unkindly.
I shrug, uncomfortable as the object of her scrutiny.
Mary takes my silence as an invitation, and I try not to wince as she separates the strands a bit too roughly. It's still surreal, and I don't know what to make of her—or any of this. Having undone the braid, she gasps in delight as she notices that my faintly curly hair has taken on the waves of the braid.
"Oh, how grand!" And she traces a curl with her fingers. "Oh, just like Mama's hair!" Pleased with this discovery, she continues brushing out my hair, chattering on about how her mother's hair always curled when she undid her coiffure for the night. How sometimes her mother would let her brush out the day's tangles.
There's only a moment's interruption in her chatter, when she surveys her work. "It's be a right shame to put it away in a braid," she confides, smoothing down the wanton wisps that, to my amusement and Neil's chagrin, also plague Cain. Again, the feeling of being _loved_ returns. This time, instead of frightening me with its sudden appearance, the feeling is more bearable. And I wonder if this has become our language.
"We should go out today," she says eagerly. "The roses are still in bloom, and the birds have come back—"
"And you don't want to go to lessons," I finish.
She crosses her arms in petulance. "And why shouldn't I? They're so dull."
"So they are," I agree, not particularly wanting to face Neil after my _little affair_. I'm reasonably certain that word has spread, and I don't have an excuse for ordering new tests done. I don't want to hear about my _unfortunate nature_ again. And I suspect that I will have to indulge her wishes of being a family if I am to begin to make amends. That strikes me as the most important—to begin to atone for all I have done; that may prove to be an impossible dream.
And somehow, that strikes me as painfully sad.
* * *
It's such a strange experience to be in the same place Father leapt to his death. I had heard about it for so long, that I had decided that I must have known what it was like: barren, steep cliffs; an open plain of grasses cut low by a salt-soaked wind. A lonely, lost albatross, perhaps. A hard place that gave rise to a hard man.
Now that I am here, in his footsteps and yet strangely apart from him, I see that I was wrong. True, the salt settles into everything within its kingdom, and an ever-present chill from the sea sweeps and seeps through everything, but, despite the hardness of the land, there is a surprising beauty to it. Among the undulating expanse of grasses, bellflowers sleepily nod. Trees mark the horizon, their crooked limbs growing in the shadow of the wind. Near the cliffs, sea birds make their nests.
Mary runs into the grasses, one hand on her hat to keep it from taking to the sky. She laughs, her braids bouncing off her shoulders as she skips. "Isn't it grand?"
"Of course." I cannot refrain from a faint smile. There's a sense of freedom here. An isolation perhaps, but also a freedom. And then I remember the smothering soot of London, and my joy fades. "I wonder how long this will last, with industrialization. We may be the last people to see this."
Mary frowns. "But Father owned the land. It's bound to the house."
I shake my head. "It's not that. It's the ceaseless tide of people. Breeding. Fighting. Soiling the natural world and turning it into London. Or any other industrial city." And that familiar bitterness returns. "Like a blight across the earth. How long do you think it will take for this place to be lit with cities and towns?" I pause, sensing her cautious silence as she attempts to fit this with her understanding of me. "There's a bird here that I've never seen. It's not in any books. Where will it live, when its land is taken away?"
"Then we must make sure that doesn't happen," she says simply, as she stoops to collect a bluebell.
"I doubt that _we_ are a part of anything."
"Don't be silly. That's what grown-ups say when they don't want to do anything." She gives me a level look, as she stands up again. "You're _alive_ , aren't you? So you can do something."
To my immense annoyance, I cannot come up with a suitably cutting retort.
Along the path, daisies curl upwards, amid the brown bones of the roses, all thorn and stem beneath their bristling coat of leaves. Mary inspects the roses, twisting off a few brilliantly red rose-hips. Grinning, she shows them to me, before stowing them away. Cassian, meanwhile, investigates the straggling ivy that spreads across the wall like a carelessly thrown shawl.
(Weeds. They'll wreak a good wall in months. Never cared much for them, Doctor.)
I nearly ask Cassian just _how_ he came to have opinions about plants, even that he lived his years in a city, but I realize that there still remains so much that I do not know about him. His past is a mystery that time will not relinquish. As mine will be, one day. |
b4ac764da1674e9ea10f4925b062119e | ['9a48a0346a404875a427107908c8695f'] | She nodded, "Peter and Carol left a few minutes ago with Stephan. I think he was going to show them a few tricks but didn't want to be interrupted by any of the children." Laura walked into the living room and grabbed a stack of papers from the coffee table, "Peter finished reading, editing, and signing his accords papers by the way; wanted me to hand it over if you got back before them."
"It hasn't even been forty eight hours since he turned eighteen. Knowing him he probably went over board and color coated every term in the book."
Rhodey grabbed the stack from her and started to grin stupidly downwards, "He made a key for all his highlighter colors!"
"Called it!"
Laura grinned, "Oh, now _who_ could have thought he'd do such a thing?!"
Tony threw up his hands, "Clearly not me!"
"Yeah, well, I'll be the one to look through Spider-Man's paperwork then while the good _General_ goes and does what he does best. Beg."
"Of really Rhodey Bear? We playing that game? I could mention how your my wingman, but I'm a grown man with some standards. Also, if you want my title that badly, Lt. General Rhodes, you can have it. God knows I've never wanted it." Tony muttered walking away from the two.
"The kids'll be home from school in two hours! Don't forget uncle Tony promised to have a movie night with them today!"
Tony just pulled a thumbs up and kept walking.
He listened to the metallic clicking as he tapped his fingers together furtively. He walked to his office slowly and let his mind wonder, recapping the last ninth eight hours since the last bombing began. It started with Seventy two killed and over three hundred injured in time square when the ball dropped New Year's Day in Vienna. The explosions had caused mass chaos as debris from the destroyed buildings fell. No knew who did it, but from the evidence left at the crime scene it was clear inhumans were involved. The job was sloppy, almost looking like it was activated on accident, but the bombs had been perfectly set for both fear tactics and to cause actually calamity. Stark industries personally fund any privately owned small scale shops that had been damaged, and helped fund the rebuild for times square and the newyears ball. Every one thought that that might be it, but six days later a similar bombing occurred in Afghanistan. Luckily the people had been evacuated for a mandatory bomb shelter drill earlier that morning and no one was in the city when the most localized area was wiped off the map. Next came in Birmingham with the death and injury toll still rising as they were currently clearing the rubble. The World was on its toes; these people didn't seem to care whom it was they wanted to kill and it was clear by that point that unstable extremist was involved in everything going on. People were scared and the threat was becoming international quicker than anyone had anticipated. The Avengers needed an international representative that people could look at and feel connected to. Tony Stark was respected by the world, yes, but they already had him visibly on the case, what they needed were women like Jennifer and Natasha. Women seen like Pepper, respectable and fighting in a man's world with success. They could play the system with out any one realizing they had a royal flush up their sleeve even though they clearly didn't need it. People needed to see control, and Tony was the very definition of controlled chaos. He had a dexterity for knowing exactly what he was doing and everyone realizing it, yet them still not seeing the full polarity of the situation like he could. He saw and understood both sides of the chess board and could play six games with the same tenacity and vigor with out breaking a sweat. While that did astound the common minded (and let's get real here even people like Reed!) it also felt spontaneous in ways that it wasn't. Tony needed to get his team in a position where the Avengers DIDN'T look like that. So that was why he was opening the door to his second lab (his office that slowly began to fill with enough trinkets that he couldn't even deny it to Peter's face anymore) and sitting down in his incredibly comfy- excuse you Ms. Potts- spinning chair to wait on two of his members to get their tooshes in there to start talking. He needed one of them to help back at the tower with Hope who had already been assisting with any and every ounce of her CEO grandeur. Tony didn't know what he'd have done if he had to send both of them off to the conference this weekend. _Politics sucked_. (He could practically hear Pepper rolling her eyes and muttering "Duh")
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in Jennifer!" The lawyer lightly opened the door and walked in still garbed in her jacket and pencil skirt. Her hair was tied in a messy and tightly knit bun of moss green hair that she seemed to be battling in a way that was vinous to a cat attacking a ball of yarn.
"Was it so important that Rhodey had to wait by the door for my to come to you the second I got home from work?" She had her shoulders confidently broadened, but her more comfortable ease was beginning to melt into her form as she strode across the room, "Also it astounds me that you can hide so many toys in this room with even me forgetting how crazy it is in here. If I didn't know better I wouldn't have even noticed that freeze ray in the window sill." | 94dbddf474ad4037a0c487d6ad2630ff | ['9a48a0346a404875a427107908c8695f'] | Tony shrugged and kicked the chair from under the desk, "yes it was incredibly, astoundingly, and I guess abruptly important for you to show up, also that's a gamma radiation analyzer and -in the process of being- stabilizer. Didn't you hear it pinging when you walked through the door?"
she glared half heartedly at him in a attempt to hide amusement.
"Anyway! have a seat, we're waiting for Romanoff."
"That's a first."
The door swung open.
Jennifer rolled her eyes, "Speak of the devil."
Natasha decided she was above responding and instead sat down beside her cohort, "What do you need Boss?"
"Alright ladies, tomorrow morning one of you is going on a trip to Pakistan!" He began the long explanation and felt a twinge of guilt when realizing he'd be late for movie night.
2. Four to a meeting
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Pardon the ellipsis, I apologize if it kills the mood but I don't swear... like, at all. By choice. It's kind of difficult for me to write Tony because of his language, how ever I will be pushing my self past my comfort zone so to use as few ellipsis in the story as possible. I hope you can respect that my own personal standard will only be pushed so far before I can no longer force myself to write specific words.
>
> I don't own Marvel sadly, but I did get a lot of inspiration for my story from both "Nobody's Heroes" by boleyn13 and "Justice is truth in action" by Fritti13 and izumi2, thank you all for being such inspirations for me to want to post my own work again.
>
> Any recommendations for me to write or errors that I failed to correct I plead with you not to hesitate to correct me with a comment.
>
> Thanks a million! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Tony walked slowly into the theater room and the booming movie went silent as one of the kids paused the film and turned on the light. Cassie crossed her sassy little legs and glared up at him. When he saw Sasha and the mini agent practically mirror her seconds later a grin threatened to break his tired exterior.
"You're late." She didn't look happy.
Doing his best to look as guilty as possible (which Tony'd never admit wasn't exactly that hard) words formed, "Sorry boss, got caught up in boring adult stuff. Am I allowed in the castle?"
An adorable huff escaped her lips as she turned to look at Lila and Cooper in seek of the "big kid's" approval. Lila's look was patronizing, and after thinking for a second and eyeing where he normally sat she said, "You have to sit with all of us instead of the corner this time."
With a defeated sigh he walked into the room (fake) moodily and plopped right down on the center leather beanbag with out any real argument. _He_ _was_ _just_ _so_ _tired_... _arguing_ _wasn't_ _worth_ _it_. Nathaniel was the first to drop his fake scowl and unlocked his legs, he quickly ran to his uncle and climbed into the open lap screaming the toddler's name. Lila and her brother shifted into the upper chairs to sit above the rest of the group; they both rest their chins on each Tony's shoulders respectively (and that did NOT make his ulcered stomach ease!.. nope, not at all), he almost laughed. Sasha ( *cough* Keener mini) and Cassie sat beside him and tugged at his arms so they would rest on the girl's shoulders and their tiny bodies could lean into his strong torso on either side. Sasha smiled sweetly as she played with his mechanical fingers in the way only she could do with out him getting extremely uncomfortable and his body seizing up. He loved these kids.
"So then, Starwars marathon tonight I guess."
One of the chins pressed into his shoulder tightened and Cooper's voice said, "You know it."
After a scramble to find the remote and fixing their positions, Cooper un paused the movie and dropped the popcorn bowl down into his little brother's lap. About forty minutes in on 'Emperor Strikes Back' Peter and Carol slipped into the room and pulled the younger girl's into their laps so they could sit next to Stark. In a way that was unctuous for him, Tony pulled both teenagers into his previous embrace. Neither fought against him as their bodies moved to rest against a strong chest or when their heads connected to the two children's above them. Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the tension in Tony's body settle slightly.
When Laura and Maggie snuck into the theater to pick up the kids a few hours later and saw the small horde of kids toppled all over their exhausted friend, not a single one awake enough (or at all) to change the film from the rolling credits, they both had to walk out holding back relieved laughter. Rhodey made sure to snap a photo before the women untangled the pile of limbs cuddled together and by the end of the week a fully developed photo was proudly stuck on the fridge.
After two weeks of no one moving it the photo became as one with the fridge door.... and maybe a few others that had accumulated with every one over the years began to fill the tiny metal corner as well.
****
The argument had lasted a good fifteen minutes until Stephen suggested to just scrap the entire process and try to see if talking to the UN about their initial arrest in the first place would be permitted so they'd get more information.
"Yeah, uh yup, but that isn't gonna work Stephan King!"
Dr. Strange raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me? Why _ever_ not?" |
e744cec5e7f34484a5ea4361b726874c | ['9a4d77e5d5e4401c845fab538b4670b9'] | The rapper blinks away the remaining sleep from his eyes, as if there is still something else to blink away when this news was worse than coffee. His eyebrows frantically scrunched while scrolling through the comments. Some were supporting the couple while other avid fans are out to debunk the said issue.
It’s not until Jeon Wonwoo refreshed the timeline when a notification popped out on top of his screen.
A post from the staff in their group’s forum.
“This is Pledis Entertainment… we would like to thank Carats…” blahblahblah, too much intros where-
“The company would like to confirm that SEVENTEEN’s JUN and PRISTIN’s RENA are dating…”
It’s what he was expecting, right?
He tries to pinch himself, pull his hair just to wake him up from this weird dream.
Wonwoo feels like his heart is dropping a few feet deeper, lower than ever before. He wants to scream, be the real-life character from one of his concert stages who smashes piano out of anger or frustration. Anger? Was he really mad? But he feels far too soft, it seems like he has already submitted himself to the possibility of it happening.
Why does he not know? How could he not have noticed?
There should be some kind of notice to all members if the company pulls something like this. Junhui should have told him something if it was really true.
Six forty-five flashes on his phone’s screen. They all have two hours to prepare for another day of boring rehearsals but with the news, he doubts that it would be uninteresting. What was the company planning?
Jeon Wonwoo has a lot of questions.
Soonyoung and Chan from the bunk bed across them were already up, both of their bed tidied up. Or maybe they did not come home again. He feels the presence of the person above his own bed. How could Junhui sleep through all this commotion?
The day has just started but it feels like the end of his world.
Don’t be too dramatic, Wonwoo reminds himself.
That’s something he was supposed to tell Soonyoung yet he decides to keep it all in. Maybe he can ask Jun once he wakes up? He would probably tell him.
Awkward moments have never been a thing for SEVENTEEN. Yet that one morning, as Wonwoo quietly chews his rice, he feels at least three pair of eyes looking at him. He wants to yell at them but that would mean he has to show that he was affected. By what? No one’s saying anything, yet everybody knows.
“Hyung-“, Seungkwan directs to Junhui. Ever-lovely Seungkwan would always break the ice of course. “I am happy for you.”, he smiles softly before setting down his own bowl of rice.
It seems like the only thing the members needed for all of their attention to be called. A soft smile draws on Junhui’s face, unfazed. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
What the fuck. So it’s real?
Before he knew it, all of the attention were now on him.
“Wonwoo you just dropped your food.”, Joshua carefully points out at the mess of rice on his lap. He quickly salvages the food while profusely apologizing.
The following hours were hell.
Dance practice usually lasted for more than five hours but it seems like this day’s particularly worse compared to others. Wonwoo kept on tripping on his own feet— if that’s even possible. He misses the beats, ruining the team’s synchronization. His attention was off, entering and exiting at all the wrong times. Jeon Wonwoo has never thought that the day would come when Soonyoung would have to call him out and pull his leader card on him. The performance leader halts for a ten-minute break and calls Wonwoo outside.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”, the rapper drops his head on his knee as Soonyoung raises his voice, but not enough to be overheard by the other people casually walking by. They were at a vending machine beside the nearest bus stop. Wonwoo was sitting on the bench at the waiting area, cradling his head down in shame.
“Why do you seem unbothered? Why is Junhui suddenly dating not a big news to all of you?!”
“Because he’s our friend and we would accept whatever he does with all of our heart, what about you Jeon Wonwoo? What have you done for Junhui? Have you at least checked up if he’s fine? It’s not easy having to enter the company building’s private door because reporters are swarming outside the building. It’s not easy having to read the divided comments online. What have you done huh?”
Wonwoo tries his best to hold back the tears. It’s Soonyoung, he can at least be honest with him.
“I- I just don’t think it’s fair that he did not even tell me that.”
“Let me say this just once Wonwoo but you’re fucking selfish.”
Soonyoung sighs heavily, the remains of the cold season manifests in a white fog before his thin lips.
“Junhui was just fed to the sharks and all you could ever think is how awful it is to watch him suffer from the backlash.”
This was a situation where no parties were to be picked. Nobody’s right nor wrong. They weren’t fighting, but Wonwoo has to learn not to push away people and things that have been right in front of him for the whole time.
“And I think it’s not fair for you to ignore him when he has always been there for you. When you’re the only one he’s got”, he puts a comforting hand over his younger friend’s back. “I know me and Jihoon have been away for a lot of leader duties so we kind of expected that you would be there for him. Except you’re not, luckily he’s got Re-“
“Okay shut up, I don’t need to hear the rest.” | 0cfdb36cadd34cdc8ec2e2c251a651f2 | ['9a4d77e5d5e4401c845fab538b4670b9'] | “Before I pass out, I just want you to answer this question.”
Their voices were not hushed, they were only thirsty and out of breath. Hyerim has left long ago and only their team were inside the dance practice room. The air conditioner’s low hum was the only distracting noise aside from Soonyoung’s soft snores. Chan, on the other hand, was busy scrolling through their Twitter for updates.
“Shoot.”
Minghao licks his lips before proceeding, “What’s the deal with you and Wonwoo?”
A sudden pang shoots through Junhui’s system.
You and Wonwoo.
Me and Wonwoo.
Junhui and Wonwoo.
“Nothing.”
The younger shakes his head in distaste, “It isn’t nothing. I know that. You know that.”
“I swear it’s nothing, we’re just the same old friends. We still talk, don’t we?”
Minghao tilts his head towards Jun, checking his face for any signs of lying. “Is that what you want, though?”
“Minghao please-“
“You only live once. At least get it out of your system you’ll never know-“
“Minghao I can’t.”
The younger holds back his breath, sees how distressed have been. More distressed than he has ever been for the past few years they have been together as members of the team.
“You’re not like this, Jun.”, he takes in the disheveled sight of his older friend. Junhui’s hair is sticking in all places, his sweat starting to dry as it falls down his face.
“I know, but Wonwoo’s the one setting the distance. I know I’m usually the pushier one but he’s obviously starting to get uncomfortable I-“, Junhui takes a deep breath.
Closing his eyes, “I don’t want to lose Wonwoo, Hao.”, he takes a deep inhale, “If I have to keep myself a comfortable distance away so I won’t lose him, I’ll do it.”
The air conditioner’s hum sounds louder than ever.
Heavy tension surrounds the room after the company’s president revealed his offer.
“Please think about it Junhui, I believe that Seungcheol could help you decide. We are definitely not pressuring you to do this, we could always opt for another person, but we think that you are the most fit person for this job.”, the CEO assures him, full of concern. The whole thing hasn’t sunk into Junhui’s system yet. He stares at the other pair across them, their managers standing behind. His legs jiggle in a more distressed manner, Seungcheol had to hold him down.
“Do you want to talk about this somewhere?”, the leader asks as he puts a comforting hand over his leg.
Junhui swallows all his nervousness and smiles, “Can we, please?”
The team’s general leader asks to be excused from the meeting to which the president wholeheartedly grants, although they were still not dismissed. He calls for a break as he knows that the news he just broke was something too heavy for all parties to consider.
In the café right across their building, Junhui slumps on a seat and considers all of the possible consequences of his next biggest decision yet. It’s not like there’s a lot, is it?
“Hey.”, Seungcheol takes a seat across him and serves him his own plate of pancakes. “You haven’t eaten yet, right?”
The Chinese member nods his head slowly as he takes in the honey-topped stack of pancakes before him. Impossible. Even his appetite is gone. “Yeah, I haven’t but- I don’t think I can eat.”
Seungcheol sighs, “I understand.”, he pulls himself back on the seat and watches the cars and passers-by through the glass windows. “To be really honest, I did not expect we’d have to do this, but I guess it makes sense to give them a helping hand.”, he sips his Americano before continuing, “They did say you have the option not to take it right? It seems like they just had to go to the nearest and most possible option first.”
“You make it sound as if I’m not even a viable option.”, Jun’s lip bitterly quirks at the statement.
“It’s not-“
“I want to do it.”
Lee Suhyun’s voice in the background echoes loudly in both of their ears.
“Junhui you do not have to rush this. They’re willing to give you more time to decide.”, he takes Jun’s hand into his to calm his nerves down. Seungcheol could even feel the crescents forming on Junhui’s palm after pressing particularly hard.
“I’m not even doing a lot right now.”, it was one of those rare moments Seungcheol could feel Junhui’s persona concretely. “It would be fun.”, Jun’s positive self never fails to amaze Seungcheol.
“Are you sure no one’s going to take this differently? Your mom? Your-“
“No one, I promise.”
“Wonwoo?”
Seungcheol always says that he doesn’t feel like he knows his younger members a lot but right now, it feels like he does.
Junhui takes back his hand before lifting a utensil, wiping it with a tissue. “Wonwoo is a person of his own and…”, he rolls it in his palms thinking for a much better word other than, “so am I.”
Blood. He can hear his blood running through his head.
His head. Feels more painful than ever.
He knows he should not have finished that particular stage in the game he was playing last night. He should have just went to sleep and rested for the whole eight hours. But it seems like no amount of sleep could ever prepare Jeon Wonwoo to the news flashing on his phone’s screen.
“Labelmates dating?”
What the hell was that? It was just a lost article from an online forum somewhere, right? It must not be true because if it is, then Junhui must have told him from the start? He hasn’t though. |
05d512d41792466c98cc1dd345e98ba0 | ['9a7648abbce1417e8d7728e87a651451'] | _Well there's one thing more holding me. But I'm about to take care of that._
He reached the cabin of his office where the Duke was already waiting impatiently for him by his desk. Hans took his time in walking over behind his desk and sitting down. The gesture made it clear to the Duke who was in charge here.
"Well?" the Duke demanded when he let the prolonged silence become unbearable. "What do you want?"
"You mean what do we want Duke?" Hans replied casually. "I want exactly what you want. The freedom of Weselton from French control so you can resume normal trade."
"How do you propose we do that? Bloody Napoleon sanctioned Weselton from trading with any nation that declared for the Coalition even when half of my people are already starving. I tried to save it by trading anyway."
"And when you were caught, your own king and brother sacrificed you to be arrested and beheaded for treason rather than lose the alliance with France," Hans finished for him. "But before that he already earned your ire when he sent almost two thousand Weseltonians to their deaths as soldiers who marched with the Continental Army in Moscow."
"My son was among them," he sputtered angrily. "He never came home. I don't even have his body to bury properly. Just a final letter."
Hans raised an eyebrow at that information but decided not to say anything. _Not yet._
The Duke’s expression hardened. "I can accept losing my life, but not that of my son. So tell me, General, what exactly is your plan?"
"The elimination of French control on Weselton of course is the eventual end. If you're willing to side with the Coalition, I am prepared to back you with the Swedish army. You can lead a rebellion from within. I'm sure you will have no problem recruiting people to join you given so many Weselton soldiers were lost to the last campaign. You may even be seen as a hero in your country should you choose to take action against the French to liberate it."
"And then what?" the Duke raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to depose my brother?"
"No, merely convince him to change sides to the Coalition. However, if your brother is too stubborn to see the advantages of leaving France then I leave you to decide on the best course of action to usher Weselton towards allying with the Coalition."
There was a gleam in the little man's eyes that told Hans what that action would be. Hans could hardly blame him. The Duke was also part Westergaard, another cousin from a secret Westergaard illicit liaison for power. He had the same streak of vengefulness and competitively turbulent home life that Hans experienced in his own family.
"And what price do you expect me to pay for your generous aid in supporting me to liberate France from Weselton?" the Duke asked.
"A simple matter,” Hans replied. “I need information."
The Duke wrinkled his nose condescendingly. "What kind of information?"
"I want the location of 18 Arendellian soldiers kept by France. I know your spy network would know where they are being held."
"Arendellians?" He narrowed his eyes at him. "Yes I do know where they are. But what are they to you? I thought you were done with that nation?"
"Nothing of course,” Hans drawled lazily. “But they are essential in gaining the compliance of their Queen to our side.”
“So you’re taking them as hostages to use against Queen Elsa. I hate to point out a rather large flaw in your plan, but 18 soldiers would hardly matter in the Queen’s decision when she and the rest of her country are already prisoners of France.”
“She won’t be a prisoner for long,” Hans replied. “Tomorrow, she is taking a ship out of Arendelle on the way to Paris where Emperor Bonaparte has summoned her. We have the opportunity to liberate her from her captors.”
“And you need my knowledge on the arms of the French warships, the capabilities of their crew and their sea routes in order to launch an attack to kidnap her?” the Duke finished for him.
Hans rolled his eyes. “Please, my dear Duke, let’s keep it pleasant. It’s a rescue attempt of a potential ally. Once in our custody, she is free to choose to join us. And she will join us because we will offer to liberate the rest of her nation.”
“We?” the Duke asked condescendingly. “I may agree to help you obtain her, but my generosity only goes so far. Don’t think that I have easily forgotten how she humiliated me and cut off valuable trade.”
_So he’s still playing hardball,_ thought Hans. _Time to hit him in a vulnerable spot._
“You mentioned before she had been generous with information about the Weseltonians in the front.”
The Duke scoffed at him. “A pittance of information she shared is not worth risking my resources to save her little kingdom. I will need everything I have left to liberate Weselton in the coming days ahead. She’s not one to fight wars using her powers. She never used them for her own kingdom’s gain, much less for another. And if you think to dangle with me the idea of her resuming trade with Weselton, then you are wasting your breath. Trade relations cannot normalize while that mad Napoleon continues to rule and threaten us. Queen Elsa can offer me nothing of value to change my mind.”
“I suppose you are right,” Hans sighed. “There is nothing Queen Elsa can offer you. But something in Arendelle may have something of value for you.”
“Phssh!” the Duke scoffed again. “Arendelle is nothing now that the Northern Isles is no longer joined to them.”
“I am not talking of wealth or power or tradable goods, Duke. I am talking of information.” | b18c8c749edd4db99e3718cf8b0e9aef | ['9a7648abbce1417e8d7728e87a651451'] | “They’re not silly at all,” she replied as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I know exactly where we should put them.” She took the bigger ring and slipped it on his finger. He followed her example and slipped the other ring on her finger in return. “There. They belong there until we have the real rings on our wedding.”
“It won’t come soon enough,” he said while he drew her head back on his shoulder.
For several minutes they stayed that way, quietly enjoying their closeness while she pondered on the tediousness of the wedding spectacle they would face in a month while battling the urge against keeping celibate.
“I don’t suppose, eloping now would be an option for us?” he asked.
It was an attractive solution but she dismissed it quickly. “And who would marry us? The reporters are practically camped out between the church and the court house. If we so much as step in there, expect us headlined tomorrow.”
“There’s always Carpet. We can go for a flight, go to some far away country where no one knows us and get married there.”
Elsa considered it. It could work. Why do they have to wait when they had the means to make it a more meaningful wedding for both of them?
“Let’s do it,” she said brightly. “We can go to the Mediterranean or the Pacific Islands or even Asia. You think that will be far enough?”
“Anywhere you want my love,” he replied as he claimed her lips again and she let herself be lost in his embrace.
BANG!
The door opened like a gunshot and they both jumped up and moved away from each other. Elsa was glad she had kept her gown to a modest length when she faced Anna. Her sister strode in, her face flushed with anger and stopped in front of them with her hands on her hips.
“YOU LIED TO ME!” Anna thundered as she faced her sister before turning her furious gaze on Hans. For a moment Elsa was afraid she would hit him and she immediately rushed between her livid sister and her fiance.
The door opened once more, with lesser force and Kristoff came in muttering “Here we go again,” in his typical exasperated manner. Elsa was immediately glad for his more level-headed presence.
“Feisty pants, calm down! It might not be what you think,” Kristoff began as he tugged at his wife’s arm
Anna shook off his hold and kept glaring at the engaged pair. “You two have been lying to me. Never been together, just friends, my foot!”
“Anna, what’s wrong? I don’t understand,” Elsa pleaded.
“You’re married!” Anna declared.
Elsa and Hans stared at each other in confusion and their reaction only seemed to incense Anna more.
“Oh don’t act like you don’t know anything,” she taunted. “You’ve been married for over three months! That was even before you left for the Coronan Conference! And here you are acting all innocent the whole time. Were you even planning on telling any of us about your secret marriage?”
“Secret marriage?” Elsa gasped. “I’m sorry Anna, I’m confused. Hans and I have never been married. I told you the truth. Until the day we came back to Arendelle we were nothing but friends. You were there when I told him how I felt. I certainly didn’t marry him before.”
Anna stared at her sister as if she was trying to discern if she was lying. Eventually, her face softened and looked apologetic. Then she turned to Hans and her furious expression came back at full force. “Well maybe Elsa didn’t know but you did! You planned this! You married her without her knowing!”
“Anna, I swear I don’t know anything either. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t married Elsa, but I will soon in the most honorable fashion as she rightly deserves.”
Anna merely huffed back to indicate she didn’t believe one word of it.
“Anna, he doesn’t know,” Kristoff said calmly. “We wouldn’t have known either if Grand Pabbie didn’t explain it to me before we went through with it.”
Anna continued to scowl and looked like she was trying to convince herself her sister’s fiance was guilty. “Don’t tell me Grand Pabbie never explained it to you?”
“Explain what?” Elsa and Hans exclaimed together.
“You were trollfully married. I heard it from my mother-in-law!”
Elsa and Hans stared at each other. They giggled together and held out their twig-rings. “Oh you mean this? This was all just a joke,” she said as she tried to laugh it off but stopped when she realized Anna was dead serious and was now staring at the rings with horror. “Wait… it is just a little jest by the trolls… wasn’t it?”
“I mean it’s ridiculous, it couldn’t be,” Hans said as he twisted his ring uncomfortably.
“So you think my in-laws’ customs are ridiculous?” Anna countered mightily.
“N-no of course not,” Hans quickly replied. “I mean it’s just a mock wedding, “It’s not legal or binding isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s binding!” Anna thundered. “It’s a magical bind between two people! Weren’t you even listening to the one that married you? And since you Elsa signed the law of religious tolerance that has a provision, which I quote ‘the law shall honor any contract of marriage conducted in the rites exercised under an indigenous religion and officiated by said religion’s duly appointed priest or minister’. The trolls have an indigenous religion and the one that officiated your marriage is an appointed priest. So yes, under the laws of Arendelle, it is legal!”
Hans and Elsa looked at each other as they absorbed this new information.
“We’re…” Hans began.
“Married,” Elsa finished for him.
“We don’t have to…” he said.
“No we don’t,” she confirmed.
“I suppose we have to file some kind of document officially with the register,” Hans said. |
cb9f3fa4d83d4da88319bfb4826ed988 | ['9a97ea89dc0b4f818a4be846797f3de2'] | > Y/N sat in the chair. "Marissa I'm only here because I saw the text on Shane's phone. You had his son which yes his so cute." She laugh as Marissa was holding him. "what's his name?" Marissa look at Y/N with a small smile. "Rogan that's the name I gave him." She said looking at Y/N. "Cute name for a cute baby boy." Marissa look at her. "I know what happen with your baby and Renee's. I know it hurts when you see other mother's with there little ones. Y/N just remember you still have time. It's not the end of the world for you." Y/N look down. "I know but it was my baby. It's been like what almost four months." She said looking at Marissa. "It's not the end you should go home and relax my dear. I want you to go home take a break from work, and think about what you really want. Then talk about what you really want. You'll see at end everything will come out fine." Marissa said with a smile on her face. Y/N smile as she got up to leave. "I'm still am very sorry about what I have done."
17. All Secrets Pt2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The thing that comes out will change everyone. Can anyone be happy in this chapter? Maybe so if one man can help. Maybe that one man can help. Will the out come be great for anyone?
>
> In this Chapter more secrets, more lies come into play. Y/N had found out about something with Shane and Marissa which hit Y/N's breaking point with Shane. Dean still has his heart out set for Y/N, but Renee keeps pulling him back into her world. Plus all the investigating that Hunter has done finally came to end as 'All Secrets' are revealed.
The night was long but the arguing still keep going with Shane & Y/N. Shane want nothing to do with Marissa & her unborn son. Y/N telling him that he has to meet him. Shane telling her that, “No I’m not going to see her. That baby is not mine Y/N she cheated on me all those years ago. She dated other guys so I know that baby belongs to who ever she was sleeping with.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him. “You know what Shane I think you and I might need some time apart. Like maybe just a few days because this is just awful.” Y/N grab her bags as she head for the hotel door. “Y/N if you walk out I’m not going to go after you.” She laugh a little as she look back at him. “Shane you never chase after me, good night my dear friend.” She open the door then walk out leaving Shane in the room alone.
Y/N walk down the hallway until she heard a door open to see Dean getting ready to walk in. “Good night Dean.” She said walking past him. He grab Y/N by the arm pulling her close to him. “Wear you going darling?” She smile at him. “I’m going home now Dean. I just got into it with Shane about his ex-wife. She went into labor not to long ago so I just told him to go see her.” Dean look at her. “Let guess he said no right?” Y/N nodded her head. “Hey look Y/N what happens with you and Shane, I’m always here for ya.” He smiled at her. “Is that so Dean?” She said smiling. “Yeah Y/N I mean it.” Y/N smiled at Dean before she look back at him. “Well I better get going Dean I need to catch a flight tonight.” Dean face drop. “What?” She look at him with a sweet smile on her face. “Dean I’m going to see Marissa I have to talk to her about a few things. I have to get something off my chest.” Dean put his arm around her waist. “What do you mean?” Dean Said looking down at you. Y/N look up into Dean’s eyes. The worried look in his ocean blue eyes made your heart drop because you didn’t want him to worry about what goes on with you. In the past when you both were teens he always had your back just like how you had his. “Dean I had found out about something, something really bad and I just want to see Marissa about it.” Dean pulled you close to his body feeling how intense he is. You close your eyes while trying to hold back some tears. Your head laying on his chest smelling his scent made you feel so grateful deep down inside. “Y/N you had my back on so many occasions even when I told you not to follow me, but you did. I was so pissed the fuck off at times when I found out you were around. You never seem to listen to me when I told you to stop.” You smiled while he was holding you in his arms. “Y/N there were times you almost die at nights because of me. Do you have any idea how much my pride would have hurt, so bad if I lost you?” As Dean rested his chin on top of your head. “I think you would have been…” Dean look down at her. “I wouldn’t be the same.” Y/N look up into his eyes. It was the first time you ever seen his eyes filled with tears. Not once in your life you ever seen Dean about to cry. “Dean...I…” Dean’s lips meeting yours closing your eyes feeling so soft, so passionate. Love is what you describe it. You turn your head away. “What about Renee Dean?” He open the door to his hotel room pulling you in with him as he slams the door right behind him.
**New York** | 139af8a3eda64d4baf0493b7f589ec00 | ['9a97ea89dc0b4f818a4be846797f3de2'] | I still love ya Doll Face
You finish your match with Alexa walking into the back with a smile on your face. You walk right into your locker as you started to clean yourself up. Heading back to the hotel with your luggage you head straight to your room. Once inside you drop all your things then walk to the bed falling right in the center. “Now I can relax.” You said to no one. You got up just to freshen up in the bathroom. After your long hot shower you walk out with sleep wear on. Tank top with some nice booty shorts on you look at yourself in the mirror with a smile as you headed to bed. Then a loud knock came at your door. You look at your door with annoyed look on your face. “What is it now?” You head to the door, didn’t even bother opening it because you knew who it was. “Finn please go away. I’m not in the mood.” You said as you walk away from the door. You laid down in your bed trying to get someone sleep until the knock on the door was even louder than before.
“Really!!” You said getting out of bed. You walk to the door opening it up just to see a very anger Dean Ambrose standing in front of your door. “So uh…” As he walk right into your room kicking the door right behind him. “So yeah...Finn!” He yelled as he look down at you. You look down as you started to think about what happened with you and Dean that night.
**_Flashback_ **
“OK you know what doll face you can’t just tell me what I can and can’t do. If I want to talk to Renee then that’s what I want to do.” He said looking at you. “Really Dean that so called “talk” look more like you two making out. I’m your girlfriend not her.” You said holding back your tears. He look down at you, his face soften as he started to think about what he did. Renee walk right behind Dean as he puts her arms around his torso. “Hey Dean…” She stop to look at you. “I thought you both were done.” Renee said look at you then back at Dean. “Excuse me done?” You said walking up to Renee but Dean stop you by pushing you back with force almost hitting you head on wall. “You know what Dean fuck you. Fuck you for leading me on into believing we had something.” You said walking away with tears running down your face. “Doll face come back!” He yelled out.
You head to your room that night still upset about what happen. You saw your phone rang to see it was Dean, but you just ignore the call by powering off your phone. A small knock came from your door. “Go away Dean!” You said as you laid in bed. “Oi I’m not Dean love.” You got from your bed heading to your door opening it to see Finn standing there with a worry look on his face. “Is ever tin alright love?” You shook your head as you let Finn in locking the door behind you. “I’ll explain everything to ya Finn. I just never thought this could happened to me you know.” As you start to cry once again. Finn gave you a big hug as he look down at you. You told him what had happened with you and Dean. He felt bad for you as he hug you even more. Finn gave you a kiss on your forehead, but you grab his face making him kiss you on the lips. After that night the rest was history.
**_Flashback End_ **
You look up at him as you nodded you head. “Yeah it true what you heard that night. Me and Finn had a one night stand.” Dean grab you by the throat with one hand as he pulled you close to him. You start to whimper in pain as both of your hands where on his arm. “Finn touch you Doll face. You belong to me I never end our relationship.” You look up at him with a small tear running down your face. You now know what you did was wrong. “I’m...sorry...Dean...but...I thought...you did when you push me.” He start to kiss the side of your face slowly. “You mean the world to me Doll face. Do you think I’ll ever let you go? The reason why I push you away from Renee, because I know you to well. You would have beating her until she bleed.” He let go of your throat as he turn you around bending you over on the bed.
You look back up at him. “Dean what are you doing?” He slaps your ass so hard it made you has his name out loud. “Oh now you yell out my name? Good cuz I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t even walk anymore doll face.” WIth that Dean undone his pants as you turn your head facing the window in the hotel room. You felt you shorts being pulled down as you try not to say a word. You felt it being rub at your entire, making gasp at his hard cock. “I just want you to know something.” You nodded your head. “Oh yeah one more thing I want tell you. I still love ya Doll face.” With that you can remember Dean slam his hard cock right into you, enjoying the rest of the night with nothing but sweet love making that is. |
e0a2e9495c024979b096e1ef46a1c6e8 | ['9a9fa120134c45e88e5853f7ce66a299'] | [Excerpt from _In the Shadows of the Martyrs_ (draft) by Tom Berenson, found on his computer 16 days after he disappeared]
“Here’s something most people don’t like to think about for too long: the Animorphs were children. 12-year-olds, mostly, barely old enough to be in middle school. They were kids. So was I, of course, but to them it didn’t matter. I was an adult, one they knew and one they could trust because they had rescued me themselves. Of course they looked to me for leadership and guidance. Of course they did. Was that a good thing? I don’t know.
~~It also helped that I was the only reminder they had left of Jake, who gained a sort of golden boy gleam in their eyes after his death. Being compared to my dead baby brother and told that he would have done better was always a fun conversation.~~
Maybe if I’d had morphing capabilities, it’d have been better. But I was rescued after the rest of the Animorphs had already gotten their powers and lost the cube that gave it to them. So I was stuck as a useless human, living deep in the woods, avoiding human contact in order to hide from the Yeerks. At least I had Tobias, and later Aximili, to talk to. I had some very good friends in the Hork-Bajir by the end of the war as well.
I could’ve just run. The Yeerks weren’t everywhere yet, after all. The key word in that sentence, however, was ‘yet’. They’d find me, and when they did, everything my brother had fought and died for would be worthless. I couldn’t just leave my newly-infested parents to suffer alone, either. If I could do anything, I would. Not that I did a lot, other than planning. Most of the Animorphs’ best- and, to be honest, worst as well- ideas happened during the heat of battle, which I of course I wasn’t part of until much later in the war.
Well, that’s not completely true. I was a part of it, I just wasn’t fighting. When we could spare Tobias, one of the others would relay what was going on back to him, who’d talk to me, and then I’d give my thoughts on what was happening to Tobias, and it’d go back. It only worked sometimes, and some was better than none, but… I was the leader. How could I lead when I didn’t know what was going on? That cost us battles, I know it did. We were lucky that we didn’t all crash and burn. ~~I don’t know how we survived. By rights, we should’ve all been dead that first night in the Pool, instead of just Jake.~~
Since Andalite Princes are usually in the heat of battle, Aximili was often confused by the arrangement, but he accepted it as another weird human thing. You know, Ax is the only one who never met Jake. I think about that sometimes, about how they might react to each other. They’re almost exact opposites, in their own ways. Jake was hopeful, determined, and down-to-earth. Ax was stiff, uncertain- though not so much any longer- and a little pompous. Mostly I think they wouldn’t know what to do with each other. Not that I knew what to do with Ax either. The others just sort of accepted him and his alien-ness. But my worldview wasn’t as flexible as theirs anymore, and it was hard. Cultural exchange is always difficult, but in the middle of the war, while we were all terrified that we could be found at any moment? It was hard.
Sometimes I imagine how Jake would have done it. He’d have been in the middle of the chaos of the battles, of course, so it’d be more real to him. Excluded from the battle as I was, it got easier and easier to just see the numbers rather than the names. The only thing that seemed real anymore were the memories of the Yeerk in my brain and the reality of having my home and my family taken away from me. That led to some pretty horrible decisions on my part, even after I’d gained morphing capability. I wonder if Jake would have been a better, a more compassionate, leader. I guess we’ll never know.
I know this for sure: there are some things I did in this long, bloody war that I know for a fact my brother would not approve of. But you know what? We won. That makes it all worth it. As Toby Hamee once told me: Free or Dead. I still believe that whole-heartedly. People will ask about the number of Yeerks killed, of Controllers killed or mutilated, and that will always be my answer. Better dead than Controlled. Always. Some things you can’t compromise on.
~~They killed my childhood, my future, and my little brother. I will never let them win.~~ ” | a08d8a945f654c43a1a1fd34d0c34ca6 | ['9a9fa120134c45e88e5853f7ce66a299'] | Sons of God
They fall all night. The first ones to fall weren’t even in the door when they were thrown out, barred from their home after a long day’s work. The rest fall in waves, slowed by the walls of heaven that they shatter against as they hit and bounce and break and heal again behind them. If they’d thought to avoid the walls, they could have. But the walls had never barred them before.
The fall is forever; the fall is instantaneous. They try to fight it, but it just makes it worse. They are angels, they are power, they are God’s Will; they do not give up, even to a foe they cannot beat. Their very self is their downfall, what makes them burn. They could have winged away from the fires and the pain if they tried. They didn’t.
Castiel watches everything from his perch on the hill. His fall was uneventful, and he is unhurt. In truth, it is probably because he was forewarned- by his enemy, yes, but still warned- but he can’t help but think it’s because he’s not angel enough. He watches his family fall and crash and his tears spill over.
“Humans are selfish,” he thinks. He should be crying for his brothers and sisters, but he isn’t. He’s crying for himself.
He wonders how many of his brothers fell to Earth only to meet the sea and the ice and the hungry maw of nature. How many of them, landing in wasteland, will starve and die in the coming day. He doesn’t know. It isn’t a strange thing for him to not know something, not after all these years, but he thinks it might be for his brothers.
He wonders how many were killed at the hands of the humans they were meant to protect, and he wonders how many deserved it.
The falling stars begin to slow near dawn. There should have been more- There would have been more, only a few years ago. His fault, he knows. It’s always his fault, nowadays. He wonders if it was ever not his fault, but he doubts it.
He recognizes the forest he stands in, now, as the now-blinding sun rises. The Winchesters are not 4 miles northwest, which he could almost thank Metatron for if there was any room for feeling in him other than sorrow.
The sun rises on a new world. Across the Earth, newly-human angels stagger upright in their alien bodies. Their spirits are broken, and they don’t know why. Humans ask them, over and over, but they don’t understand. It is not a new feeling for most of them. They have never been required to _understand_ their superiors, after all. You don’t have to understand something to know it. Their superiors will be here soon, the angels assure their new brethren. They will explain what’s happening, surely. They know it.
They know nothing, but maybe if they pretend to, they’ll feel better. They need something to cling onto, in this old world made new. For some of them, the only thing they know to cling to is this: _Castiel_ , and _anger_.
The world is going to heaven, and the only ones who know why are standing in a forest in the middle of nowhere, America.
**Author's Note:**
> The 'sons of god' in abrahamic religions can refer to both angels, or specifically to the fallen angels who lived among humans & begat the nephilim. |
6fa25f2a1c3544e49510b23b9b8abff0 | ['9ac0d17801e0456d9f782e0c7acf9183'] | "It's nice that you associating me with deep shit." Yeah, it's still him. That sarcastic bastard. My little lipstick boy.
"You have to admit, that there was a lot of deepness between us" he smiles at that comment and I'm suddenly out of breath. He's perfect. Right from his "The Beatles" shirt down to his blood type. I need to kiss him.
"Yeah, it was."
"Yet still not enough for you."
"We've talked about it."
We did. We wouldn't work out. Sooner or later we would have break each other hearts anyway. We both were proud, stupid and too young for love like this. We fought, we screamed, we fucked, we pretended to know everything about life. Continually drunk, high as a kite all the time, we thought we had figured it out. Crazy fuckers but also crazy for each other and I couldn't stop wonder if there's some parallel universe where we could be happy together. A man can dream, right?
There's silence between us, but not uncomfortable one. I guess we both need this, our last goodbye, final closure. He finished his drink so I'm ordering him another one.
"That's on me"
He smiles, but it's a fucking sad smile, one that will break your heart in million pieces. And my heart is already in shreds.
"She's lucky, you know?"
Why are you saying things like this? Why are you doing this to me? You can't do this. You have no rights! I shouldn't have call him. I shouldn't. It was such a bad idea.
"Thanks."
That could have been you. I wanted so badly for you to be it.
"Everything's gonna change now. Are you ready for this?"
He seems so casual about it but I know him too well to be fooled by his acting.
"Are you ready for it?"
He looks at me, right in my eyes and suddenly I can see everything on his face. Every moment we spent together, every sweet kiss, every rushed sex. White sheets from our favorite hotel in Seattle. Bruises on his skin from my hands that had been holding him too tight. Lyrics of our songs written on the skin.
"I knew that at one point it's going to happen" I clench my jaw, trying not to cry when he looks away.
"Fuck" i mutter and ask barman for another glass. "It's my bachelor party but it feels like some kind of funeral or other shit."
"Well, it's the same thing if you think about it. Since tomorrow you won't be Brendon Urie that I knew. You won't be my Brendon" the last two words are like punch to my guts and i'm not able to speak so I just keep staring at him. "You'll became hers. You'll be new married Brendon that I will have no idea about."
I want to hug him. I want to kiss him. I want to run away with him and live our fucked up lives together.
"So it's like death of a bachelor?" I ask and he nods smirking like a little kid.
"Yeah. Good song title, don't you think?"
It is. It really is. He did it again, my sweet genius. My infinite inspiration. My muse. My silent. My Moon.
"Can I kiss you?" words escapes my mouth without thinking. He doesn't look surprised. "For the last time, I just, you can think of it as a wedding gift or goodbye gift or I don't know, I-"
"Bren" he interrupts me. "Stop it."
And then he does it. He leans towards me, so I can smell this fucking vanilla scent, and one second later his lips are on mine, and I can breath again, flying through bright sky and growing roses in my lungs. Ryan. It's Ryan. My soulmate. My everything. And it all falls into place, nothing matters except for him and his body pressed to mine, and it's alright. It's just as it should be, the right place, finally. Kissing him tastes like coming home after being lost in the maze for years.
But it has to end so it does. Too early, but I know even few years of kissing him wouldn't be enough. My lips are burning, as well as my skin, both already longing for his touch.
"I really hope you'll be happy, Brendon. That's all I've ever wished for you."
I know that. I'm wishing him the same. It's time for new beginning for the both of us and I'm really hoping we'll both find happiness.
"Let's go get you a cab, okay?"
"Okay."
The air smells like mourning when I we're leaving the bar. There's a lot of taxi here, but I'm not ready to say goodbye, not yet.
"Wanna smoke?"
"Sure."
We're not even talking, I guess there's no words left, but just his presence makes everything better. I will be miss it so much.
"You should definitely go home. It's late."
So there's this moment. The moment of truth. The end of ending. I get into the cab, looking at him one last time.
"Thanks for everything, Urie. And I'm sorry too. I'm hoping tomorrow will be the best day of your life."
_For the new me, yeah_, I want to say, _for the dead bachelor it will always be the every fucking day he spent with you_. But I don't do this. It's better for both of us that I don't. I smile at him and then nod towards driver, meaning we can go now. Ryan's still on the street, standing next to the old Brendon and our love, both bruised and tired of trying.
When I drive away I can see through the rear window how they're all fading away. | bd6dbf2ab7d740baa29fad05bb73eb85 | ['9ac0d17801e0456d9f782e0c7acf9183'] |
Death of a Bachelor at the overpass
**Author's Note:**
> Hi guys! It's my first Ryden story and english is not my first language so there might be few mistakes, but i really hope you'll like it. It's a bit sad, but we stan sad love stories in this household.
That evening was supposed to be different.
I should have fun with the guys, drink hell of amount of alcohol, play pool and just celebrate the fact that tomorrow at this time I'm gonna be a married man. I want to have butterflies at the thought of Sarah looking absolutely gorgeous in her white dress walking down the aisle to became mine for the rest of our lives. I want to feel excitement or happiness or just literally anything else except what I'm feeling now. Because I definitely don't want to miss Him. Not today. Not anymore. But I do and fuck, how can I not to?
"Everything okay?" barman asks, taking empty glass standing in front of me and replacing it with another full one. He's pretty handsome, I must admit, but too masculine for my type. I like skinny boys with curly brown hair and pretty dark eyes, ones that writes poems and breaks promises.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You look lonely"
Do I? Zack keeps telling me I don't look the same for few weeks now and even I can see that weird shadow on my face every time I look at my own reflection. But it's just nerves, right? At least that what's Sarah says and she's always right so I don't have reasons to be worried. She saved me this few years ago and since the day we've met she keeps doing that every single minute. I won't be able to repay her for all her kindness but I'm gonna spend rest of my days trying.
"You're the love of my life" that's what she said earlier that evening, right before she went to her own bachelorette party and it just felt like the lace of her dress tangled my neck and tried to suffocate me. She was so good to me. Too good for me. I should be fucking happy that she loves me and wants me, because she's perfect. Everything is perfect, Bren, stop it. You and her, that's how it supposed to be. You two are perfectly fitting for happily ever after and how could you even ask for more? You ungrateful bitch.
I'm trying to cut my mind off, but I can't. I'm in too sentimental mood tonight. I can smell vanilla scent in my nose, the sweet poison I hate so much, scent of a slut as I told once, now only associated with Him. I kept one of his shirt just because it smelt like that. In _The Heart Rate of a Mouse_, that beautiful stupid thing, he kept mine, but in real life I'm the one who's pitiful. I haven't looked at it for years but i still have it in the box that noone can touch, because it's filled with memories of him. Years have gone by and I still can't forget, but I guess it's pretty normal considering how everyone reminds me of his existence, of his words and this love that wasn't enough for him.
I still love you. I do.
"Hi" I know that voice too well. "Is this seat taken?"
I lift my head up and see him, beautiful as angel but older, more mature and strangely unknown for me. But it's Ryan. My Ryan. No matter how he cuts his hair or what clothes he wears he will always be the same guy who sang me lullabies and filled my head with dreams that we were supposed to fulfilled together. Liar. Traitor. Ryan. My heart feels like it's going to burst.
"I didn't think you'd come."
He's taking seat next to me and order himself some whisky. That's good. I don't want to drink alone.
"I wanted to congratulate you" he's not looking at me and I truly can't bear it. All I want is to see those eyes full of stars and infinity. Maybe it's the last time i'm able to do it.
"You're getting married tomorrow. Who would have thought?"
I would. I started to think about marriage long before I even met Sarah. I dreamed about having beautiful house, dogs and person I love waiting for me in our king sized bed. Dreamed about life full of laughter and music and poetry. Dreamed about morning kisses and shower sex and Sunday breakfast and holidays. I dreamed about sharing all of this with him. But you can't always have what you want.
"Sorry I won't be able to come."
"Don't worry about that."
It will be better for the both of us. I'm not sure what would I do if I saw him there.
"How are you?"
"Stop it" it's the first time he's looking at me and I'm mesmerized. Fuck, I forgot how beautiful he is. "You texted me night before your wedding, you wanted to meet up, you dragged me across the whole city so you could just ask me how am I?"
I did it because I miss you. I did it because I want you to say you still loves me and that I should cancel the wedding. I did it for us because it's our last chance to make up for our mistakes and get back where we belong - to each other. I did it so the world would make sense again, so the sun and the moon could be together once again just as the soulmates supposed to do.
_Love me, love me. Say that you love me. I can't care about anything but you._
_I love love love you._
But I can't tell him that.
"Well, I'm drunk as you can see. And I don't know, I'm thinking about life and stuff. Deep shit, you know." |
e4dbf203129149a0815bbddaeb80a6eb | ['9ad5e6c183a34a68919d8af20171d2c4'] |
1. 1 | Harry |
**| Harry |**
It started on a normal Thursday, Harry was starting at a new high school, Oaks High. He was quite shy for the age of sixteen and he hated that.
So as he was brushing his teeth and fixing his hair for the last time, he decided that would change. _No more of the old Harry._ He thought in his mind.
"Harry! Hurry up, if not we're both gonna be late!" His older sister, Gemma, yelled from downstairs. He rinsed his mouth once more before grabbing his backpack and heading out the door. "Sorry, it's just you know how nervous I get and well..yeah" Harry mumbled as he got into her rusty, gray truck.
She smiled at him as if trying to calm his nerves and said, "don't worry about it, I know how you feel, we move every year so I know how hard it can be. Just stick by my side till class starts."
He shot her a grateful smile before putting on his earphones and looking out the window. Soon Coldplay's Paradise was filling his mind and Harry was barely paying attention to his surroundings.
It was too soon when they got to the school. He grudgingly got out the car whole he remembered how he would change his attitude.He was standing by Gemma's side as they walked to the office for their schedules, and as always some people were speaking in hushed voices about them. _Just like every year_ , Harry grimaced.
He was so distracted he barely noticed the girls only a few feet away giggling at him. He shot them a shy smile and they quickly turned away.
He wanted to burst out laughing when he heard them squealing. He never understood why girls did that, it was another thing out of millions that he found annoying about girls. He likes girls but he's never really had a crush on them or anyone for that matter. Although sometimes he feels more comfortable with girls than guys.
It was just the way he is. He also noticed the way Gemma was chatting with another girl who appeared to be a senior as well. He groaned inwardly and was ready to go on his own. He was used to it. Gemma always made friends and ditched him but he didn't mind. It wasn't her fault she was likable. Harry didn't have many friends, he had one best friend.
They lost contact after Harry moved about two years ago. His name was Niall Horan. He had known Niall for about 3 years and the same year Harry had moved, Niall had moved. To where? Harry had no clue.
He really did miss that ball of sunshine. Niall, like him, never had a girlfriend and he was sure he knew why. He always had a nagging suspicion that Niall was gay. Sadly he never got the chance to ask. It never crossed Harry's mind if he was gay, he thought guys were attractive but he was never attracted to them.
Just like he had suspected Gemma turned to him with a sheepish look and before she could speak he cut her off, "Go, I'll be fine."
She looked hesitant but he offered her an encouraging smile and made hand motions pushing her away. She grinned brightly before responding, "Thanks H I so owe you!" He rolled his eyes as they walked away. He heard the girl faintly chirp "Dude your brother's hot!" He shook his head and looked down at his schedule.
He pouted when he saw math was his first class, followed by history, music, then lunch, english,science and lastly theater. _Well here goes nothing,_ he thought as he began to wonder in search of his first class in the gigantic campus.
2. 2 | Louis |
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Louis' pov of the day.
**| Louis |**
Louis groaned quietly dreading the moment his clock began to buzz. He shut it off almost immediately. He stared at the clock as it read 5:34 am, _another sleepless night,_ Louis thought.
Louis knew what today was and missed summer already. He could feel the taste of freedom leave his veins.
He laid back in bed as his tired ocean blue eyes stared up at his beige ceiling.
Like it was out of his control his mind began to wander. He fantasized of standing in a small café in Paris or maybe in a small store in New York.
Anywhere but here. He often drooled over the idea of traveling. He had no idea of what he wanted in life, only that he wanted to see the world and the greatest delicacies it holds.
To him those were as simple as going to an undiscovered bakery or perhaps strolling down a park and seeing the crispy leaves of fall tumble down from their tree. He was good at football, or as Americans called it soccer, but it wasn't his passion.
At school he was labeled one of the popular kids, though he rarely spoke and just was there.
He pondered over the fact if they would even notice if he was gone and sometimes came to the conclusion that they might not.
But it was an unfair statement. He knew somewhere inside they cared for the boy who spoke no words. Sure they were a bunch of airheads at moments but they had hearts, they were good company.
They still made him feel included in what was going on. It was as if they understood why Louis was so silent but they also realized they didn't even have the slightest clue.
They weren't jerks but unfortunately that's what they were based as. Jerks who were either bimbos or players.
Where does Louis fall into?
He wasn't outrageously brilliant but he wasn't stupid. He just really didn't see the effort of academics but he supposes some people need them. | 372d130b94134d75b0b3ba3256ed9370 | ['9ad5e6c183a34a68919d8af20171d2c4'] | Harry bit his lip, wincing from how tender it was, thinking of a way to get out of this. Harry didn't want to tell the truth so he lied, "Got mugged..it was horrible, don't want to relive it."
By the look of Zayn's face, Harry knew he had believed him. Zayn attacked him into a hug before shooting off questions, "Did you tell the cops?! Have the caught that punk?!" Harry just shrugged, "Told the police, and they said they'd keep an eye out for those punks. It was more than one. That is why I couldn't fight back."
Harry knew lying to Zayn --who hated lying more than swimming-- was foolish but Harry knew that Nick would actually kill him if he opened his mouth about the truth.
Zayn nodded, moving away from the hug only to get up. "Are you hungry? I was just about to get Liam to make some lunch?" Harry chuckled because Zayn was forcing someone else to make him food, and although he wasn't in the mood, he nodded.
"K, be right back. Let me go get my lover," he said dramatically wondering down the hallway leaving Harry alone on the couch. Harry smiled because he knew people rarely saw the energetic side of Zayn. Zayn was more than the calm, mysterious guy he plays off to be.
Harry's fingers smoothed over the couch as he laid back. He stared up at the ceiling and couldn't help but wonder how Nick was doing. Harry sighed sadly when he realized he had to work Sunday night, he hoped Nick didn't know that. Nick could easily find him there but maybe Harry could just call in sick or something.
Harry pushed the thought of Nick to the side when he heard the other two lads walking out the hallway. "Liam it's time you properly meet Harry, same goes for you Harry," Zayn grinned pushing Liam in front of him.
Harry couldn't resist saying one of the lamest comebacks, "It's time I meet myself..too?" Zayn's face dropped as he rolled his eyes but Harry saw the small smile planting itself on his face.
"Lame, H, so lame. I totally forgot you were so bad a jokes," Zayn chuckled, making a face of disbelief before looking at Liam.
He stage whispered, "Don't listen to him. He has bad memory and apparently an even worse taste in humor." That made him and Liam burst into a tiny fit of laughter before Zayn joined in.
"Well it's good to see you'll get along, " Zayn chirped wrapping an arm around Liam's waist. "This should be fun, nice to meet ya, mate," Liam said smiling at Harry.
All the while all thoughts of Nick slipped his mind and Harry didn't really mind.
3. Two.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Harry can't stay.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I hope you guys like the story (: I've decided to do this thing where I add in cool quotes that I think go with what I'm writing, it'd be nice if you guys told me what you think about it. I like this story a lot, I hope you guys do too. Lot's of love xx
> _"I needed you like a Sunday morning, I wanted you like a Friday night."_
Our choices define us, display who we are. Well Harry was pretty weak. After lunch while they were out of the living room, he didn't even say goodbye, just grabbed his stuff and fled. He didn't get to meet the roommate, he just left.
He left with a million explanations and apologies on the edge of falling. He left because he was weak. He left because he was foolishly in love. He knew how this would end badly but have you ever had that moment where you knew what was going to happen but you kept doing it anyway? And he knew Nick would be mad but maybe if he returned now he wouldn't be so mad.
\----
> _"It went from butterflies fluttering in my stomach to bees stinging in my heart."_
Harry arrived at their flat at 7 in the night, he had taken the train instead of a taxi like before. He had sat in the train as it traveled to all it's stops and he watched the people who came on. He wondered if they could see the pain in his eyes, if they could see his life overflowing with problems or if it wasn't noticeable because Harry's life didn't even scratch the surface. He kept wishing someone would ask him if he was okay but he knew no one would.
He had studied the strangers who were gone in such little time. He wondered if they too were watching their life fall apart. He wondered if they knew the feeling of wanting to scream, of being so afraid and upset that you fall to your knees, tears falling rapidly escaping in despair as if the tears were somehow an escape for his feelings.
He wonders if they too knew the feeling of wishing they could just disappear. He wondered if they could understand, if they knew the feeling of being in love with someone who just can't love you back.
When Harry stood in front of his door, he knew Nick was supposed to already be home from work but from outside he heard a radioactive silence. As if Nick wasn't there at all. Maybe it would be easier if he wasn't.
He stared at the door, his body trembling and his heartbeat increasing. Did he really want to do this, walk back into the life that was killing him? No, he didn't but he did anyway. |
1557d3e989214255ba097b345973b0eb | ['9ae2eeb08c864bdd8ef0b0fa911d8328'] |
If you had asked John Sheppard as a child what he'd like to be when he grew up, the answer would have been astronaut. Or it might have been, if you'd been lucky enough to catch him between the ages of six and eight. Prior to that, he might have said cowboy or fireman, or his mother's favorite, Frankenstein. But on his tenth birthday, when the summertime heat browned their yard and there was no school to separate the molten days, John's uncle showed up on the porch. "Come on, Johnny," he'd said with a grin. "Got a surprise for you."
It was a Cessna 152, dwarfed under the soaring ceiling of the dusty hangar. The paint was faded, and it sounded like it hadn't flown for years when his uncle started it up. John squeezed both eyes shut until he felt the wheels leave the ground, and then grinned, peeking through one eye to watch the pavement sink below them. Somewhere over the grid of baked California orchards and narrow streets, he relaxed, and shoulder to shoulder with his uncle in a cabin that smelled of tobacco and old sweat, the mountains tilting in the distance and his stomach lurching, John fell in love. From that day forward, whenever anyone asked what he wanted to be, his answer was always the same: a pilot.
\-
In his backyard treehouse, perched between the biggest branches of the biggest oak, John folded planes with the yellow paper of his mother's legal pads. She bought them by the pound and would never miss a few sacrificed to the cause.
Each fold was careful, checked twice before John made the crease sharp with a smooth rock he carried in his pocket. He drew decals, thrusters, a cockpit and pilot with markers that made the treehouse smell like cherry and black licorice.
The planes flew only as long as it took them to crash to the ground. John watched them fall, then made more, new planes with new folds and each one flew longer, higher, and a little straighter than the last. It was a lesson that stuck with John, but one he didn't recognise until much later, when keeping your nose up and out of the dirt become more than a goal for a sunny afternoon and a pad of paper.
\-
John had been a regular at the small public library down the road. It was housed in the same old building as "Curly Sues", a beauty shop; to get there, he had to brave the sticky checkerboard floor and the inevitable cooing of women with hair in rollers or perched beneath mammoth hair dryers.
It wasn't long before he'd read everything they had to offer on planes and flying, and began accompanying his mother into the city once a week. While she ran errands and had lunch with some fellow teachers, John would climb the wide, alabaster steps of the main public library. He'd bypass the children's area -- what he wanted to know couldn't be found there, he knew -- and head directly for the information desk.
Mr. Corrigan was an elderly man, with bushy eyebrows and ears that seemed too large for his head and dark liver spots on his hands, but he always had smile and sour candies on the desk, and he always set aside books for him, books on the principles of flight and avionics. He would photocopy pages for John from books that were too old or too rare to be checked out, with notes jotted in the margins in big looping handwriting. Mr Corrigan had flown in the war, and when John asked him questions, he always had the answer.
The library building was on the town square, and it faced a park. There were huge oak trees that lined the edges of the park, and a gazebo surrounded by delicate pink and purple blossoms. Sometimes, if his mother was taking a little extra time, John would spread out on the grass in the sun to wait. Where other boys might have been had imaginary battles with plastic soldiers or watched the passing clouds, John was reading Mr. Corrigan's notes, his head buzzing with the sound of jet engines.
\-
Later, John would tell people he learned to fly before he learned to drive. It wasn't true; Dad was away a lot and Mom didn't always get home in time to take John where he needed to go. Half of every paycheck from the movie theatre and the museum went into the Jeep, as old as John and, as he was often told, the ugliest model they'd ever made. But, it took him to school and home and to work and to the library, and the Jeep could carry more books than John could ever strap to his bike.
After he turned 17, and Dad finally gave in, John needed the Jeep to get him out to the Valley for his flying lessons. The other half of every paycheck went into the Jeep's gas tank, but John had seen the sky, and he knew it was worth it. What was left, and the few dollars he still got from Mr. Corrigan for washing his planes (John refused every time, but the man had lived through two wars and still had fight), John kept in a Six Million Dollar Man lunchbox in his closet.
Someday, that money would buy John a stick and a rudder and the wide blue sky.
Three times a week, the final school bell couldn't ring soon enough. John hurried home to the quiet house on the corner of his tree-lined street. He made a couple turkey sandwiches, wandered through the pantry, adding an apple and two granola bars to the brown paper bag. (The blueberry Pop Tart, he ripped open and ate on his way out the door.) Three times a week, John drove the lime green Jeep out to the highway, hot, crowded, and most days, took the whole of R.E.M.'s Murmurs and Michael Jackson's Thriller to get out of the city. He was listening to "Beat It" again, on the radio this time, when he pulled the Jeep off the asphalt and onto the parched strip of earth that led to Atlantis Flight School. | 6338ab2d28a74cf096d606218ce06ade | ['9ae2eeb08c864bdd8ef0b0fa911d8328'] | I feel like such a dork. It's a good thing you didn't know about me before we started this. I like knowing this will make you smile when you listen to it later.
Or maybe I just called to say 'hi' to Bernie.
Click.
Beep.
If you tell the guys about this, rest assured that I will kick your ass.
Click.
-
Beep.
Don't screw it up, Clark. You're falling in love with this guy.
I'm so pathetic.
Click.
-
Beep.
Uh, hey, Clark. If you're hearing this, you got my note and you're back in Metropolis now.
I'm sorry I left so suddenly last night. I'm sure you've heard a version of the story by now, but Gat says it's just some huge mixup, and I believe him.
He's my best friend. I had to come back. I hope you understand.
Anyway, everyone else is on the plane, and we're taking off in a few. I guess I'll see you when I get back from Toronto?
Call me.
Click.
-
Beep.
Lunch? Maybe? I can meet you after the press conference; I'll have a couple of hours. Or, you know, dinner would be better. My place? I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you without a caption under your face for days.
I watched a pee wee game played on an open ice rink in Grandville. The kids were amazing, Lex. I don't even think they kept score. Care loved it. She got to lead the wave for the very first time.
Click.
-
Beep.
Hey. Only got a minute here. The guys are demanded we take Gat's lawyer out for a drink, and I can barely hear myself think in here.
I got a present for Caroline, but I'm not sure if she'll like it. Remind me to show you when I get back.
I should be home by seven. You bring the Chinese, and I'll bring... well, me.
I miss you.
Click.
-
Beep.
OK, it's half past, and I don't want to be that kind of boyfriend, but the noodles are congealing on my counter. Where are you? I need you.
Apparently, I am that kind of boyfriend. You should ignore this message.
Click.
-
Beep.
I could ignore it, but then I'd also have to ignore the part where you called yourself my boyfriend. I kinda liked that.
The plane was late. I missed my ride. We got a flat. My dog ate it. Insert your lame excuse of choice here.
I'm in the cab now. Slap that ball o' noodle in the fridge and fire up a hot shower. I'll be there in five minutes.
Click.
-
Beep.
I was sitting at my desk just now, listening to the call from last night's game. I hate the way Skip Cooper says your name. He's never hit on you, has he?
Call me as soon as you get this. We can have phone sex in the broom closet. I can't stop thinking about you wet and in my shower.
Click.
-
Beep.
What the fuck, Clark? Where are you?
I can only hide in this closet for so long before they notice, you know. I've been hard since this morning, and this mop is looking better by the minute.
You so owe me.
Click.
-
Beep.
Why do you always pack your cell phone? You know I'm gonna call you. It's called a carry-on, Lex. Lots of guys have them, not just the fags. OK, so, call me, I guess. But I hope you would have done that anyway. Say 'hi' to Gaetan and tell him I said to keep you out of trouble.
I brought Bernstein over to play in the yard with Howie. You don't mind if we stay the night, do you?
Click.
-
Beep.
Hey, Clark! Clark? it's Gaetan, man! Pick up!
Bah! You suck, you know? Why aren't you up here, bitch? Lex has been moping like a girl all weekend. I can't believe you didn't show.
Drinking alone is a real bummer, you just don't understand. Fucking losers, all of you.
How do you turn this damn thi-
Click.
-
Beep.
So, what? You're not talking to me now? Answer your phone, Lex, or I'm sending an intern over with orders to sit on your doorstep until they get an interview.
Click.
-
Beep.
Well, since you seem to think I'm trying to sleep with them all, be sure to send one of the cute ones, ok?
Click.
-
Beep.
Do you realise you've turned completely into a woman? Keep this up and you'll be giving Hayley Wickenheiser a run for her money.
I needed to get out of the city. We're staying at my parents'.
Click.
-
Beep.
Clark? I tried calling the farm this morning, but your mom said you were out in the fields with your dad. She seems nice.
I'm... can we fix this, please? I could tell you weren't watching the game last night. I just felt... off the whole time.
Did I ever tell you my first year with the team, I wore the same pair of socks for every game? We won every game, too. Then I forgot them one time, and we lost the rest of the season.
All superstition aside, Clark... little things matter. Please call.
Click.
-
Beep.
Kent Farms. Hickory Lane. Smallville. If you leave now, you can be here in three hours.
Click.
-
Beep.
Clark, um...
I decided to take the scenic route, and the road didn't end up where i'd hoped it would. I guess there was an accident on this bridge, and they detoured traffic, and I ended up on some back road... and it's quite possible I'm in oklahoma now.
Hang on...
OK. I'm at a place called the Wild Coyote. I'm going to get a drink, if you want to come and get me.
Click.
-
Beep.
Hey. I know you're not there. you here, or, you know, upstairs, in my bed. I guess now we know what happens to a relationship when we talk to machines more than each other. I don't think I was running away when I left Metropolis, but thank you for coming to get me.
Um, I should be there with you when you hear this message. And hopefully, I've already said it. But this is the real first time I'm telling you.
I love you.
Bye.
Click. |
b04e89ce17ee4d63a8660ef8241d0a80 | ['9b0150c5e2d54327b00433920778bc71'] |
Calendar
You spent two hours explaining the ingredients for a cake you were familiar with to Masamune. Taking extra care to be describe their texture and taste to help him find the Sengoku alternative. You sent Masamune off with a list, trusting him on his own, but you were starting to get worried. He had been gone for almost half the day and you were starting to wish you had gone with him. Instead you stood in the kitchen near this time period’s equivalent of an oven, stoking the fire, making sure it didn’t go out. You weren’t sure what 350 degrees Fahrenheit looked like but, you were confident you could eyeball it.
Masamune all but crashed into the kitchen moments later.
“Alright lass, I hope this is everything, because I don’t think they’ll let me back there for a while.”
“Why? What happened? Are you okay?” I rushed over to help him with the baskets of ingredients
“Of course I’m fine, I just cleared out all of the European stock…you said this stuff is commonplace in your time?”
“Yup~” you answered musically as you got several different sized ceramic bowls out.
“Alright then Kitten, let’s do this.” He said as he clapped his hands together.
Masamune cracked six large eggs into a bowl and started mixing them together with the yuzu juice. You eyeballed about three cups of sugar and flour, two tablespoons of salt, and zest from two yuzu into another. Butter sat in a third, larger bowl, softening, as milk boiled in a ceramic container on the fire.
You moved the dry ingredients into the larger bowl with the butter and began to mix them together with a paddle, gently stirring them together until it was well blended. Masamune busied himself with a whisk while you gradually added the wet ingredients into the bowl. Once everything was mixed together you gradually added the warm milk, slowly though, so you didn’t accidentally cook the eggs in the batter.
Taking the rectangular metal bread pan from the basket of goods Masamune had bought at the market, you greased it with some butter and poured the mixed batter into it.
“Hey Masa, wanna taste?” he looked at you, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.
“I didn’t think we could eat it as a liquid?” both a comment and a questions all at once.
“Technically you’re not supposed to. Raw eggs can be bad for you. When I was younger, the best part of making a birthday cake with my dad was when I got to lick the batter off the spoon or whisk. It was like a preview of what was to come!” you held the spoon out to him. He had been unnaturally quiet throughout the entire process. Taking notes here and there, watching the process intently so he could recreate it on his own later.
He took the wooden spoon from you and cleaned the batter off the front side before handing it back to you.
“The cake’s for your birthday, it would be bad form if I took away the best part.” he smiled one of his brightest smiles as you made quick work of the rest of the batter.
“That was pretty good, just the right amount of sourness.”
“I agree.” You smiled at him as you made your way toward the oven. “I was a bit nervous about using yuzu instead of lemons.”
“Care if I take another taste?” His single blue eye twinkled with mischief as he slowly walked closer to you.
—
The hardest thing to find had been the butter, and even then it had been a ‘made to order’ sort of situation. There was only one trader that Nobunaga knew of that specialized in dairy products. Since they weren’t that popular here, I had used up every drop of the poor guy’s cream supply. Then, I had to sit with this cream in a seal-able jar and shake the thing for what felt like a lifetime, switching with Nobunaga every so often, until the contents felt more solid than liquid. As if the shaking wasn’t enough, we still had to pour out all of the contents through a ‘colander’ (is what you had called it)…to make sure we only got the butter.
Despite all of that, every bit of today’s shopping trip had been worth it when I saw you smile. Happily mixing the ingredients together while you hummed a simple unfamiliar tune. It was captivating and I found myself wishing you would come cook with me more often.
My daydream was interrupted when the wooden spoon coated in cake batter was held out under my nose. “Hey Masa, wanna taste?” Interesting, I was certain this dessert had to be cooked before we could eat it.
“I didn’t think we could eat it as a liquid?” I questioned, growing more curious about it with every passing minute.
Taking time to describe the dangers of eating raw eggs before they divulged a childhood memory of baking cakes with their father as I took the spoon. I could imagine them, much younger than they are now, impatiently bouncing around the kitchen waiting for a taste of the batter. I sat and listened intently as I licked clean one side of the wooden spoon I was given. I can’t very well sit here and listen to them tell me this was ‘their favorite part’ and not leave some for them on their birthday.
The sharp acidic flavor of the yuzu stuck out but wasn’t overwhelming, it settled into the sweetness of the sugar and was cut rather well in all of the butter. I complimented the recipe before they walked over and placed the pan in the oven. | bf45d24f64db45f8aa8c4fb9a005ddd9 | ['9b0150c5e2d54327b00433920778bc71'] |
Yearning
[YN]
Usually you felt better after a meeting or a meal surrounded by your new Sengoku family. They had done a great job of helping you acclimate to the time period and you would never be able to thank them for that, never; but sometimes you still just missed home. Certain aspects stuck out, like the immediate forms of communication, photos, endless libraries of information and piano music all at your fingertips, running water, soap…the little things like the woosh of traffic as you walked on busy sidewalks, the ding every time someone entered a convenience store, the clicking of your coworkers diligently typing away as they worked toward a deadline, the soft thunk of a lock when you came home from work, the sound of zippers, hell you’d even kill for some velcro if it would help you feel better; but you didn’t and couldn’t. So here you were stuck knowing that you would feel just as terrible if you were back in the present without all of them, but still wishing it wasn’t quite so hard some days. There had to be something to help add a semblance of futuristic normalcy back into your daily life. Anything.
“That’s it!”
[Mitsuhide]
The first few times I saw them carrying the bucket up to their room I thought nothing of it. Maybe they were just doing a bit of extra cleaning, or it had to deal with something they were sewing. For about a month I had been purposefully cutting holes along the bottom edge of my haori, in an attempt to see what there were using it for, but to no avail.
When that didn’t work I tried teasing it out of them, but they weren’t having any of it. With each passing encounter the bucket of water became a normal oddity. I had decided that the next time I saw it I would not hesitate. I was just going to barge in.
I had planned for the worst, but no part of me was prepared to see them sitting on their writing table, feet dipped in the bucket running the edge of the blade up their legs. Mild annoyance sat in their normally cheerful features as they looked over at me from the corner of their eyes.
“Why do you even knock if you’re not going to wait for an answer?” they sighed
[YN]
Thanks to your own ingenuity you had devised a makeshift razor and had taken to keeping your legs and underarms pretty neat. Making time at least once a week to collect a bucket of water and bring it back to your room to shave in peace. It wasn’t like anyone would notice, seeing as you were pretty much always in a kimono, but something about it helped you feel normal, like you weren’t totally removed from everything you grew up with.
You had been successful at avoiding the warlords so far, but you must have looked shifty because he had been following you around asking about your bucket all day and now you weren’t even halfway through your right leg when there was a knock on you door and Mitsuhide slid it open. There was no time to even try to hide what you were doing, not to mention if you had it would have just added to you looking suspect.
“Why do you even knock if you’re not going to wait for an answer?”
“My apologies.” He may have apologized but why didn’t you believe it…
“So then what can I help you with? Need me to patch your haori…again?”
“No, not this time.” he paused, for a second you thought he looked nervous but it passed as he continued “Might I inquire what you’re up to?”
[Mitsuhide]
Shave? I knew most people did it on occasion to keep unruly facial hair in check, but I had never considered it a possibility elsewhere.
“Why would you go to such lengths to have the legs of a small child?”
Apparently that was a thorny subject. My attempt at messing with them had ill-intended effects, unlike their normal reaction of sputtering or turning bright red only to talk themselves into another set up, they glared.
“Funny…if you don’t need anything you should try that wonderful humor on Hideyoshi. I’m sure it would be equally rewarding for you.” they suggested
“I have an equally entertaining idea.” to which they raised an eyebrow at me “Just hear this one out. You tell me why you’re shaving and I wont tell Hideyoshi I saw you sitting in your room playing with a knife.”
“…”
There was a long pause before the gave in and looked me directly in the eyes.
“To feel normal.” they said
And all of a sudden I regretted it, there was a look on their face, I was filled with an emotion I try hard to keep in check, I sat on the tatami by their bucket.
“Nothing about you has ever been normal.” they paused only for a moment before continuing on up their leg “you are quite possibly the only person I’ve ever met to request more work. You routinely yell at the lord-liege who employs you.”
“He deserves it, usually…”
“Agreed, but you don’t see anyone else doing that. You talk freely to everyone, and show all of your emotions plainly on your face. You’re not normal but that’s not a bad thing. How would this make you feel normal, and why would you ever want to be?”
[YN]
Yikes…a child, really? I know it’s uncommon but was that completely necessary? You shot a look his way, you really didn’t feel like dealing with his toying today…you felt homesick enough already. If that’s how he was going to be it may be time to suggest he take his leave.
“Funny…if you don’t need anything you should try that wonderful humor on Hideyoshi. I’m sure it would be equally rewarding for you.” |
bde937830948425c81fdb63e47bb970b | ['9b02341b0a3143b1903887980d504f9a'] | Later that night, Nursey and Farmer meet up with Chowder in Chowder’s room. Dex has a night class to attend, so they don't need to worry about him walking in on their conversation. Although it likely wouldn't be the strangest conversation for him to walk in on in his time here at Samwell, Nursey doesn't want him to catch on to their plans.
Unfortunately for Chowder and Farmer, they really are "their" plans now. Nursey demands their help on proving Dex's lupine nature and refuse to take no for an answer.
Caitlin Farmer, the gorgeous volleyball goddess she is, looks down upon him from her perch on Chowder's bed.
"Okay, so you have a plan, but you still haven't told us why you think he's a werewolf. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised, honestly, but I binge-watched the first six seasons of Supernatural over summer break. There isn't much that would surprise me at this point."
"He never sleeps here when it's a full moon, and he comes home covered in dirt and fur. Plus, he just has an angsty werewolf attitude. No wonder he's so grumpy; maybe he has fleas."
His friends laugh at the joke but remain unconvinced.
"That's not much to go on," Farmer says.
"That's why I have a plan!" Nursey grabs the notebook spilling out of his backpack beside him and opens it to a depiction of the plan he earlier described to Chowder. "I give him a silver bracelet. If he says no, he's obviously a werewolf because why else would he deny such a kind gift from such a beautiful man."
"Because he hates when people buy him stuff."
"Because it pisses him off when you waste money."
"Because I've never seen him wear jewelry once."
"Because he's allergic to most jewelry and you just don't listen when he talks."
Nursey takes a moment to inspect Chowder, to tell if he's telling the truth. "Psh, nah man, you can't be allergic to silver. Unless you’re a werewolf, that is.”
Chowder loves Nursey, he’s one of his best friends, but sometimes he can’t believe how ridiculous Nursey can be. But, as stated, he loves him, so he goes along with Nursey’s plan.
Farmer just goes along for the fun of it.
They’re debating whether Nursey should give the bracelet to Dex that night or the next day when the (wolf)man in question knocks on the door.
“Hey, Chow, you in here?”
“Come in!”
Dex storms in, throwing the door open and tossing words. “Thank god! I need to talk to you about-”
Nursey shifts in the corner of Dex’s vision and he notices him for the first time.
“Nursey. Hey, man.”
“Hey.” Nursey pats the floor beside him for Dex to take a seat. “You okay?”
Dex shakes his head minutely but takes the seat offered, bumping his shoulder into Nursey’s as he sits. “Yeah, I just had a question about, um, homework. Computer stuff. It can wait, though. What’re you all up to?”
The conspirators meet eyes, caught off guard. Nursey, at the very least, hadn’t thought of an excuse. They hung out often, so there was no need for an excuse in the first place, but he’s panicking.
Farmer dives in with the save. “We’re waiting for you so I can kick your ass in Mario Kart. Nursey needed to grab something from your room first, though, and he locked himself out.”
Dex groans but rolls his eyes at Nursey, a sign that he’s not really mad. “Again? We need to get you a spare key.”
“Bitty gave him a spare when he moved in but he lost it the second month,” Chowder explains from his seat next to Farmer.
“Chow! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” Nursey hisses, embarrassed. He knows he’s a disaster but he doesn’t want Dex to know.
“It’s fine, Nurse, I already know you’re a disaster.”
Well, fuck. There goes that plan.
“Now shoo, we’ll meet you downstairs.” Farmer pulls Chowder in for a kiss, signaling for Dex and Nursey to Get The Fuck Out.
While he unlocks their door, locked due to a questionable study group Ollie and Wicks held earlier that day, Dex asks, “Where’d you leave your key this time?”
The funny thing about Farmer’s lie is that it wasn’t a lie; Nursey really did lose his key. Dex was last in the room, so he locked the door behind him. Nursey didn’t realize till he got home that he was missing his key, which is part of the reason he was hanging on Chowder’s floor in the first place. Aside from their scheme, of course. Their very important plan that Farmer just gave him an excuse to implement.
“No clue.” Nursey follows Dex into their room and pretends to look for his key while simultaneously genuinely looking for his key. He uses it as an excuse to grab a velvet box approximately the size of a notebook from the bottom drawer of his dresser. By some strange prank of the universe, his key is sitting atop the plush green case.
Nursey picks up the key and waves it in the air, grinning. “Found my key, Dexy!”
Dex turns to look where he found it and sighs. “Why was it in your dresser?”
“No clue! I did find something else, though! Close your eyes!”
Dex heaves another sigh but closes his eyes, a sign of trust Nursey hadn’t actually expected him to agree to. “This better not be another old pie.”
“That happened once and you told me to save you a slice!”
“You saved it under the bed!”
“It wasn’t my smartest moment, I admit but I apologized! Now open your eyes!”
The velvet case sits open in Nursey’s hands, two silver bangles of a simple design glistening inside.
“I got us matching D-man bracelets! These are for bonding as defense partners and you are not allowed to say no.” | 3a4e3696bf3641d589538fce928f755d | ['9b02341b0a3143b1903887980d504f9a'] | Marinette rolled onto her back. She clutched a cat head pillow to her chest and sighed dreamily. “Adrien’s poem was amazing.” She pouted and clutched the pillow dangerously tight. “I just wish I knew who he was writing about.”
“It seemed to me like it was about Ladybug and Chat Noir.”
Marinette shot up, nearly headbutting Tikki. “No way! He can’t know about…” She trailed off. Marinette had to bite her lip to keep from crying; Ladybug missed her partner.
Alone in his mansion Adrien was thinking the same thing.
“Hey, at least you have me,” Plagg said around the slice of cheese in his mouth.
Adrien sat in his chair, elbows on the desk and chin propped in his hands, staring at the LadyBlog. “I really messed up this time Plagg. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her.”
“That’s what I told you in the first place kid but you didn’t listen.”
Adrien sighed and dug through his bag for his poem. He’d forgotten to hand it in at the end of class, or maybe a part of him did it on purpose because he didn’t want his teacher dissecting his feelings like an assignment. At first the poem was for that purpose, an assignment he could hand in for class credit, but it developed into much more than that. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much. And now that the whole class heard it he could never keep it for himself.
It’s already out there, he thought, I might as well hand it in next class and say that I forgot. Since I already read it aloud she might not take points off.
A crash sounded outside and a bicycle broke through Adrien’s window. Adrien grabbed Plagg, making him drop a chunk of cheese on the floor, and hid in the bathroom to transform. “Why did it have to be today?”
By the time Adrien made it outside undetected by the Agreste mansion security, the akuma had made it all the way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Tom and Sabine were standing outside the smashed bakery but there was no sign of Marinette.
Chat landed next to them, frightening both Sabine and Tom. ”Where’s your daughter?”
Sabine shook her head. “Alya ran off after the monster and Marinette ran off after her. Please make sure they’re okay.”
He forced a smile. Why did Alya always have to put herself in the way of trouble? “Of course, maam.” He put a hand on each of their shoulders to reassure them before bounding off after the monster that he had still yet to see.
Instead of finding the monster, he launched himself straight into the path of Ladybug’s yo-yo, effectively tangling the two together midair. Chat’s baton barely kept them in air long enough to keep their fall from becoming truly dangerous.
“Fancy seeing you here, my Lady.” Chat grinned widely at her despite their position tied up on the sidewalk rubble. She cringed and his smile fell. Oh, yeah, he thought. In a small voice, smaller than Ladybug had ever heard him speak, he said, “let’s get you out of this.”
She kept replaying his words in her head while they untangled the web. That voice didn’t belong to Chat Noir. Chat was strong and confident and sassy; He wasn’t reserved or timid or anxious. That was the boy behind the mask seeping through. Marinette thought back to Adrien’s poem, the pain he felt reading it. She wondered how much he really knew.
They fought the akuma without their usual banter. Chat made attempts but they were watered down, empty words without a catty wit behind them. Ladybug did not reply. When they defeated the akuma and Ladybug purified the infected butterfly, they fist-bumped but it was not as usual. Chat Noir held out his fist tentatively, a flimsy fake smile on his face. His hand shook. He looked so desperate that Ladybug could not deny him that. She pressed her fist to his, said the not-so-magic words, and left. The next few battles went the same until Chat stopped bantering and holding his hand out for fist-bumps. He knew she wouldn’t make the first move, and it was hurting her just as much as it was hurting him. |
de30dae353f94c039459b0eb0f4ed71a | ['9b1469d2e533486980fcbcf4b812fffc'] | darling, don't you join in
**Author's Note:**
> tianshan angst but but written by a french. apologize my mistakes, and, please, tell me if you find some (which is likely because i didn't even read it twice). title from the song LINK by hozier
It was Christmas, a lonely Christmas. He had nothing to do except introspecting about all of the poor life’s choices he had made in the past years. From going to college to not studying for college and getting a part-time job that both ruined his moral and exhausted him to death, none of those decisions neither made his mom -nor him- proud.
And instead of agreeing to spend Christmas with his mother, he had somehow thought this was a good idea to stay alone and watch fucking animes. What the fuck was wrong with him? How many 20-year-olds were dreaming about spending time with their family? How many of them just wished their family would think about them? But since when he ever thought before making a stupid decision.
Anyways, here he was. Alone. And bored. How did this happen? How did he manage to fuck his life up so much?
He used to spend hours with his friends just years ago, did they not like him anymore? Did the mask wear off? Did the ugliness of it suddenly appeared? Did they all realised that under all of those thin layers of sarcasm and irritation, the man behind was only dust and ashes? That he had perished a long time ago?
Maybe he needed to see a therapist. Maybe all those anxious thoughts didn’t appear in sane people’s brains. Maybe his friends loved him, maybe if he told himself that enough times a day, if he lied to himself enough, the lie would work his way through him.
The purr of the cat sitting next to him felt like cold water running along his spine. A shower of reality, a sudden comeback of what was around him like he suddenly remembered how little he mattered to the world. Who cares if he’s another society’s failure, as long as he can live on with his cat and the little money his mom gave him.
Though his mind was chaos, if at that moment he felt like nothing mattered, if he felt like mundane could surpass the idea of doing great things in life, the moment when that thought was gone, he would collapse on himself, he would think about how much work he had to do, whether it came from college or life itself, it would be pandemonium.
Those two different states of mind could not cohabit. One would take control and immediately contradict the other, there was no in between.
As far as he remembered he had never felt butterflies in his stomach, or anything close to what people's vision of happiness seemed to be, or at least he thought. He thought happiness was easy to notice, that it took whatever form he wanted, but that it was always huge like birds flying right at one’s nose. But he had omitted that for something to be seen, however big it was, however obvious it was, it needed eyes to acknowledge it. No blind mind could accept happiness. Unless it was gone. Unless the place it took suddenly became empty and you could move freely, feeling the hole that it left.
It happened to him, once, like a blatant knife piercing through his skin. As the saying goes, you don’t see the worth of it until it’s gone. But it’s not that he didn’t notice the value of it, it’s more like it came so quietly that he didn’t have time to discern it from all of the garbage that came with it.
That’s what he told himself. But it was more likely that shame took over him and denied every second of happiness he received. That blind mind of his, insensitive to the happiness, however obvious it was, was filled with shame and ignominy. Shame of thinking that perhaps one single person could overcome all of his barriers, like he didn’t spend years stopping himself from feeling any attachment toward anyone, like they weren’t barriers made of cement but instead an open door with a smooth carpet in front of it, challenging each and every person to come in.
Now he was gone. Now the only thing he, the only person that ever brought him a sight of happiness, left was nothing but a shape his size in Mo GuanShan’s heart. He left nothing but mud all over he walked, from that redhead’s heart to his head.
Here, sitting on his couch, he could only look back to the times he had spent with him. How could his heart, all at once, feel like melting and freezing, leaving ache in his head and despair in his life.
But since when he decided what path his life would take, since when he decided which paths others would take, no matter how much those leaves bruises when they were going away from his. No matter how much it pained that his and He Tian’s path had only crossed before tearing apart. How much it pained that he had no choices in the matter. It was fate, and he could not change fate, no matter how much he tried.
But deep thoughts weren’t tonight’s matter. His horologe struck eleven and, as the sun was falling, he remembered he had a night shift.
**Author's Note:**
> thank you for reading! was it shit? tell me in the comment!
>
> links:
>
> LINK
> LINK | ba92d3c10fab4bcdafc97a3719aa1a1f | ['9b1469d2e533486980fcbcf4b812fffc'] | But when you’d been alone for too long, one would realise it was more and more difficult to know what people expected from you. Keith was one of them. When he first heard about the Garrison, he was still in middle school, just after his parents died. At that time not only was he confused about his parents missing but he was also looking for any ways to get out of here; the further, the better.
So when he heard there was a university whose only goal – once you got there – was to fly the further away you could, he didn’t think it twice, he didn’t ask himself if going out of the atmosphere were maybe a bit too much. Like any boy his age, he hurried right into what seemed the best decision, and didn’t look back.
But the thing is: boys his age were being expected to think that way but were immediately corrected and helped to learn to think through their decisions and to look back at what it might cause later and what bad it could do.
Keith didn’t learn that way; this state of mind stayed glued to him and as time passed, the glue only dried and let alone a childish Keith.
Yes, really, Garrison was a nice place. But Keith didn’t belong in it.
So why did they accept him? Well, the answer would be rather obvious to anyone that’d see Keith in action. His mind seemed designed to fit a spaceship, and so did his body. His bad habit of making decisions without thinking beforehand was actually a really useful thing when in a battlefield.
And for nearly two years, Keith managed to keep a balance between himself and what people wanted him to be. Yes, the classes were boring and all of the social interactions were making sick. But firstly, he didn’t go to most of them and secondly, the time where he flew – virtually or not – were like heaven; feeling his body relaxing to the images flying around him was a feeling he thought he’d never be tired of.
And above all of that, there was _Shiro_. Shiro was like a mouthful of air for a choking man. And if Keith had no clue of what relationships looked like, it was probably the closest to family he’d ever felt.
Shiro was a junior officer when Keith entered Garrison. He was 24 and the closest of what a healthy man looked like. He had always been behind Keith; he had always covered up for him if, by misfortune, he was got caught training in the middle of the night, or if he had one or two fights with some kids.
He covered up for him because he saw in Keith what no one else had. Because he didn’t see an angry teenager needy of attention but instead a sensitive kid whose nobody told how to love and care, how to express his emotion by kind words and not harsh actions. And if no one did, he was the one who would do it. That’s what he told himself. To be honest, Shiro was the one to stabilise the thin line between Keith and the Garrison. He was the only reason he was still here.
That’s why when he disappeared, Keith’s world fell apart. He felt like Shiro took a part of him in the meanwhile; he felt like the world was testing his limits, like he was abandoned all over again. It was _chaos_.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> shiro: hi im shiro my hair is black—
>
> keith: just like my soul
**Author's Note:**
> LINK (some art for the fic can be found here) |
73753c2c07244b739da1c54ea9ed7fb1 | ['9b19306e2b60490d8bb9b533987ef3e9'] | I feel love
In Riverdale, basically everyone bullied everyone, except for a select few. The northside had a war with the southside, the jocks had a war with the misfits, so on and so forth. Jughead was in the war with the jocks and the misfits.
Jughead never fit in anywhere, especially not high school. He was from the wrong side of the tracks, with a drunk dad and a mom who left town and took his sister with her. He usually handled being made fun of decently well, unless the jocks took it too far. He found it strange when he was chosen to be the peer mentor and tour guide of the new girl because of his, “excellent behaviour and manners.” It was the first day of school, and jughead was at lunch with two of his friends.
“Honestly, Arch, I don’t even know why they chose me, out of all people, to show her around.” He mumbled to his best friend, Archie, while stuffing his face with one of the schools disgusting burgers.
“Aren’t you supposed to meet her tomorrow?” Archie said, fiddling with is guitar. Archie was a musical genius and a football god at the same time, so Jughead always wondered why he hung out with him instead of other prodigies.
“Yep.” He groaned, “I have too much going on right now to put on a smile and tour a bubbly new girl around the school.”
“Oh, suck it up, Jughead. You’ll talk to her for one day, she’ll sit here for one day, then find her own crowd and everything will go back to normal.” Said Veronica, the used-to-be rich bitch until her father was going on trial for fraud and embezzlement.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, V. I’ll survive one day.” He said, now stuffing his face with the gross potatoes his lunch came with. Veronica laughed and further tightened her grip on Archie’s arm, who she was sitting next to.
After school was over, the three of them went to Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe for some milkshakes, and Jughead could also work on his novel there. Once they got their milkshakes, they noticed a pretty blond with a pink sweater and a ponytail sitting a few seats in front of them.
“Must be the new girl,” Jughead mumbled, completely focused on his novel.
“Yeah, why does she look so stressed?” Archie said, staring at her.
“It’s her ponytail,” Veronica giggled, “it’s so tight, it’s making her uptight.” The group giggled and looked at her. The new girl made eye contact with Jughead for a split second, then blushed and looked away.
“ I think she likes me.” Archie said, smirk on his face. Jughead rolled his eyes and sipped his milkshake while Veronica looked at Archie with a frown on her face.
“ Oh shit,” Archie yelled, looking at the time on his phone, “my dad’s gonna kill me. See you guys later.” And ran out of the door. Once Jughead saw Archie walk out the door, he started teasing Veronica.
“ You’re so obvious, V.” He chuckled, taking another sip of his milkshake and typing on his computer.
“ Shut up, Jughead.” Veronica whispered. She was blushing. Jughead chuckled and rolled his eyes.
“ Well, i’m out. I’m going to see a movie at the Bijou, don’t wanna be late. See ya, V. He grabbed his computer, stuffed it in his bag, and got up from his seat.
“ See ya,” Veronica said as he walked out the door.
Veronica felt bad for the new girl and decided to introduce herself.
“ Hey, fresh blood,” she said, sticking her hand out, “ i’m Veronica Lodge.”
The new girl took her hand and shook it. “ Betty Cooper.” The talked for a few minutes about extracurriculars, classes, and other school things. A few minutes later, Veronica left Pop’s and saw Jughead, walking instead a riding his motorcycle.
“Jug! Wait up!” Jughead slowed down while Veronica ran to him.
“ Where’s your motorcycle?” She asked, confused.
“ I’m completely convinced it was Tall Boy, that insane serpent. Probably stole it because I turned down his offer.” He replied, obviously annoyed.
“Which was what, exactly?”
“ He told me that I could join the serpents and replace my dad as leader. I can’t do that, the serpents are everything to my dad. Leading them means everything to him.” He replied angrily. Veronica nodded and continued walking with Jughead.
“Oh, by the way, Jug, I met the new girl. She’s actually really nice. Her names Betty Cooper.”
Jughead stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Betty Cooper?” Veronica nodded. Jughead chuckled.
“Oh my god. Betty Cooper.”
“What about Betty Cooper?” Veronica questioned.
“Me Betty, and Archie were all super close. Best friends. I had the biggest crush ever on her, and she had a huge crush on Archie, so I was always crazy jealous. Every time I left Archie’s house after hanging out, I would stop at Betty’s to say hi since they were next door neighbors. She moved away five years ago for ‘family stuff’, or at least that’s what she told me.”
“Family stuff,” Veronica murmured, “that’s vague.”
“Betty’s back. My god. I’ve gotta tell Archie.” | 37dd4a3294724726a9f76f947dc5a137 | ['9b19306e2b60490d8bb9b533987ef3e9'] | 1. Idk
2018, Western Indiana Hospital. It was huge. There were 5 floors, and it took up a lot of land. A short 26 year old man stood in front of the hospital, his bag on his shoulder and his oversized coat almost touching his short brown hair. As he’s about to go in, a short little girl, more like teenager, bumps into him and drops all her things.
“Sorry.” She mumbled, getting down in the ground to pick her stuff back up. He could tell that she had an Irish accent, reminding him of some fond and not-so-fond moments.
“Oh, I’ll help.” He said back. Her makeup, phone, and a bunch of research on the hospital and different bone diseases. After seeing him read little bits of her research, she looked up at him, her face red.
Oh, my god.
“Dylan?”
He was studying her face, full of freckles an moles, her messy blond hair covering most of her face. He could recognize the O’Neills from anywhere.
“Will. Oh, my god, Will!” She went from blushing with a weak frown to a smile going ear-to-ear.
“How’s Tess?” Will asked.
“She’s good. She’s actually a doctor here. An intern. It’s her first day.”
“Really? It’s my first day, too.” Will responded.
“Oh. Um, i’m going in there, so I’ll tell her you said hi, I guess.” Will nodded as Dylan scrambled to her feet and ran into the hospital.
“Hmm.” He mumbled to himself. He couldn’t believe he had seen her. It had been ten years.
After that incident, he got up and held a tighter grip on his bag. Today would be the best of his life. Today, he became a doctor. Today, he wasn’t just Will.
He was Dr. Byers.
2. The First Cut Is The Deepest
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Wills thoughts in this chapter!!!!!!! Some first person will being taking place, maybe. Will meets Dr. Robbins, a pediatric surgeon.
Will took a step into the hospital, and there was so much chatter and noise. To him, it was incredible. He breathed in that hospital smell and walked over to the locker room to change his clothes. He was surprised he didn’t get much privacy. When he was changing, a man about his age bumped into him and pushed him into his locker. He groaned in pain.
“Sorry, man.” The man mumbled. Will scoffed and winced at his arm.
“Ouch.” He whispered to himself as he look around the room. There she was. Her hair was in a long ponytail almost hitting her waist.
“Hot, right?” One guy said to him. He filled his eyes and scoffed, still looking at her.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He replied. The guy gave him a weird look and walked away. He finished putting his mint green scrubs on when the intercom came on, paging all free attending and residents to the E.R.
Will ran eagerly into the E.R, practically bumping into everything in the hospital, even the other doctors. He looked around.
“Wow,” He whispered to himself, “massive trauma.” There was a ‘domino’ car crash. Eight cars were involved. He ran to room 05 where he, specifically had been paged. He saw a woman with a blonde ponytail glued down to her head, and he saw sneakers on her feet with wheels on the bottom.
“Dr. Robbins, you paged me?”
“Byers, thank god you’re here,” she said, “10 year old female, multiple abdominal injuries, a broken femur, hip, and arms. She’s also got multiple contusions and head injuries. Page ortho and Neuro. Oh, and cardio, because we may need Dr.
Altman.”
“Oh, my god. Okay.” Will said. Dr Robbins was still working frantically to get the bleeding in her abdomen control. He went to the nurse at the front desk.
“Excuse me, can you paged Dr. Shepherd, Torres, and Altman?”
“Big case, huh?” He said
“Yeah. Just tell them we’re in room 05 in the E.R, thank you.” The nurse nodded and Will went back into the trauma room.
“Anything else, Dr. Robbins?” He yelled, he sort of had to yell, there was a lot of commotion in the E.R
“Yeah, go update the family. This is Cecilia Padilla.”
After he updated the family. He found an on-call room decided to take a nap. When he woke up, he heard talking from the bottom bunk of the bed.
“Thanks,” a doctor said, Will didn’t know who it was though, “ I just really needed a nap after that surgery. Plus, I had the dumbest intern today. He-“ Dr. Robbins interrupted her.
“Don’t even, Callie. My intern was so dumb, he couldn’t even answer his pager when I was pacing him into surgery!” She said.
“Awwww!” Will blurted out. The whole room went still.
“B-Byers?” Dr. Robbins had said.
“Oh, god. I’m sorry.” He was giggling.
Callie had tapped him.
“W-wait. You didn’t even realize-“
“Oh, my god. I’m- i’m just going to go.” He whispered.
He put his head in his hands and left the room.
Maybe he wasn’t Dr. Byers was just yet. |
4179c96a06d142efb92cabaa6a18032a | ['9b1a9c469a6749ee9320d7129aa72910'] |
battle wounds
**Author's Note:**
> set maybe vaguely after k side:red
It’s after a fight that’s drained everyone twice over.
The bar clears out and Totsuka sings Anna to sleep, stumbling out half-asleep some minutes later himself.
Kusanagi leans over a makeshift basin out of a stainless steel bucket and takes a swig of his oldest whiskey straight from the bottle before pouring antiseptic over the open gash in his forearm.
Mikoto sits across from him, a tightness in his jaw he can’t shake out. Instead of hissing at what Mikoto knows is the inevitable burn, he chuckles instead. The part of Mikoto’s lizard brain that isn’t inopportunely turned on is probably something like equal parts red hot rage and pitch black self-loathing.
_Not all that far from baseline then_ , Kusanagi would say if he could hear him. The shitty thing is that he probably can, if the look he’s giving him is any indication.
"Cut it out--whatever yer sulking about."
The Kansai in his voice is getting thicker and thicker which means he’s more drunk that he looks; Mikoto can’t decide if that makes this all better or worse.
"That’s gonna leave a nasty scar," Mikoto contemplates out loud around his cigarette in turn.
Kusanagi laughs, "In the name of my liege! I wear this battle wound with pride! Have you no appreciation?"
_Wasted_ , Mikoto thinks, scowls and says, " _Yeah_ _okay,_ cut that shit out."
He’s humming distractedly now as he wraps the bandage around his arm, supporting it with his knee and tearing and the other edge with his teeth. "Anyone ever tell you you’re cute when you’re mad?"
And maybe Mikoto was wrong about his assessment because he’s more than coordinated enough for this. Then again, he could probably do it in his sleep what with all the years he’s spent cleaning up after and wrapping up and keeping all of Mikoto’s blood and gore preferentially inside rather than outside of his body. Mikoto by now knows better than to even offer to return the favour in any capacity.
"Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking insufferable sometimes?" Mikoto blows a stream of smoke upwards. He’d changed its trajectory last-minute because he’s generous and trying to spare Kusanagi from a little more suffering tonight.
"Right back at you, sweetheart," he shoots back, securing the final knot of the bandages once again with his teeth and Mikoto has to pry his eyes away for a whole host of reasons.
"The blood loss is getting to your head," Mikoto says, instantly regretting being so fucking generous. "You gonna make me haul your ass to bed?"
"Ah but does that mean you’ll carry me up the steps?"
"Only to drop you halfway, yeah," and Mikoto grins here in spite of himself.
When Kusanagi looks at the basin and the mess, Mikoto says, "I'll deal with it later."
When Kusanagi turns his gaze on him, skeptical, Mikoto puts out his cigarette and gets up to crouch on the floor in front of the chair Kusanagi's seated on (because heaven forbid he allow himself to bleed near the couch) with his back towards Kusanagi's front.
"Get on. I don’t offer free rides on a regular basis."
"Holy shit, _you’re serious_ ," and Kusanagi nearly howls with laughter. "Like hell, I’m gonna pass this up!’
When he’s upright, with Kusanagi straddling his back, half drunk and half anemic, he says, "Don’t get pissy if you bump your head on the doorframes now," and gains a tighter grip on his legs to keep him from swaying.
Except, halfway up the steps, Kusanagi just. Fucks. Everything. Up.
He presses a sloppy kiss on Mikoto’s nape, making him swear and _jump a little_ and nearly drop him on the spot.
"You’re a real fucking menace sometimes," Mikoto hisses through his teeth when they finally make it to the top and into his room. As promised, he turns and drops him on to the bed without fanfare.
Kusanagi catches his wrist though, pulls at him with his good arm until Mikoto’s toppling over and Kusanagi is just laughing and laughing.
"You’re kinda sweet sometimes."
It’s probably meant to be wry but it comes off as a little earnest, or well, at least Mikoto can’t quite tell what the fuck it’s meant to be but his heart stutters for some stupid reason all the same. There’s a dull sort of ache that burns just below his sternum and he can’t quite place it.
_How long,_ thinks Mikoto. _How long until--_
But he’s stopped by a hand on the back of his neck, and the breath close to his face.
And there’s the breath he’s been holding himself without knowing it, out of his lungs and into the air now. He collapses downwards and breathes in, leans in towards the warmth and reassuring proximity to a pulse point.
"Told you to stop it," Kusanagi says, emphatic and suddenly clear.
"Didn’t say anything," Mikoto mumbles, not like he has the words anyway. Might not ever. _What the fuck ever_. They’re overrated besides.
"You were thinking it."
Mikoto thinks of the bucket of blood downstairs (his own blood in it even without being in it)--and yes he’ll go back for it even if only to save himself an earful later.
And times like these, he wonders if they must have been cut from the same cloth, by the same blade after all, equal parts bloodlust, adrenaline, fierce loyalty, an endless longing for unnameable things, and then, knowledge without knowledge, heartbeats in time.
It’s laughable sometimes, a relief sometimes, and a total fucking headache and a half at other times.
But it's also better than being alone in it every single time.
**Author's Note:**
> this is me saying thank you to all the comrades i’ve been fortunate enough to have the company of on this teeny tiny rowboat of a ship. you’re all So Much!!! | 268f365c3322424caf90c75bbba7d154 | ['9b1a9c469a6749ee9320d7129aa72910'] | It’s almost like a conditioned reflex now, so thoroughly Pavlovian in nature. He meets Misaki’s eyes and his fingers itch for his knives.
Misaki barks a laugh and now has his eyes just above Fushimi’s shoulder and Fushimi feels a chill up his spine, suddenly remembering who is behind him and where they are and _when_ they are because this is not _then; this is now, and the two are different_.
"Thought you fought solo, traitor? Guess you've gone softer, weaker. Need the blues to back you up."
And here, Fushimi can sense before he sees Hidaka stand up straighter, stretch himself out to his full height. They're not to activate their sabers even though it’s authorized for the purpose of patrol but Hidaka’s hand reaches for it anyway.
Fushimi moves to stand between them, eyes on Misaki. He swears in his head, says, low, "You're one to talk. Your powers are next to gone."
"Don't need 'em to take you on," Misaki grins, makes a fist. "And if your boy here wants to play, I can take you both on, no problem."
The second to last thing Fushimi wants right now is for Hidaka to get involved. The absolute last is for Hidaka to see him like this.
He glances back again and Hidaka nods once, seemingly snapping himself out of whatever had come over him, gives him a look that says, _Careful,_ and turns on his heel.
The relief is like a rush, almost crippling, and before Fushimi can think about it, there’s a ghost of flames at his fingertips, a dull burn he feels all the way up to his shoulders. This ache is familiar, the rush of adrenaline is familiar and even as he's missed it, even as his blood burns for it, Fushimi finds the rest of him catching up, finds that this fight isn't--isn’t worth it--isn’t _him_.
He tucks the knives back in before fully pulling them out, feels his stomach sink and his bones grow heavy.
And this time it is Misaki who hollers after him, throws taunts while his back is turned. "You _have_ gone soft. _Coward._ "
There's something increasingly frantic in his voice that stings but that old animal instinct also thrills a part of Fushimi. He's looking for a fight, Fushimi knows. His King his dead and he needs something to channel that towards. Fushimi half wants to let him, out of force of habit, out of sympathy, out of loathing (and, yes, out of love; it's complicated--it is _always_ _going to be_ complicated).
"What a fucking disappointment," Misaki jeers, and Fushimi wants to turn around but if he turns around he'll turn to stone.
There is still a part of him that wants to turn back and knock him to the ground because it would be a reminder that he's still real, that he was real, _that they were real._
There is still a part of him that's sixteen and lost and fixated. On good days, he likes to think he's put it to rest, six feet deep like so much else, but it rears its head every now and then and it's rearing its head _now_ because Misaki has, above all, always been able to call to it like a siren.
It's the part that wants to say: _Come on, Misaki. He's dead now and so is his clan. We can be the way we were again, together again, the way we used to be--_
Still, despite that voice in his head, despite the part that would still follow him anywhere, anywhere, _anywhere,_ despite the way his feet still want to turn around and kiss him because _you saved me over and over and over again_ and despite the days where Fushimi still feels like he owes him something if not everything, will never stop feeling like he owes him _everything_ , he is--
not that person anymore--
realizes he does not want to be that person anymore.
He'd still die for Misaki, easily, in the blink of an eye, but he also wants to live. For himself. For a change.
_I loved you_ , he thinks. _I will probably always, always love you._
_But I am also glad I left._
*
("You know you'll have to leave me first," Hidaka had told him once and it had haunted him for days and for nights after.
He's almost certain it was said in the context of some joke gone haywire. He'd smiled when he'd said it, laughed even. Still, there was this brutal kind of sincerity in it that carved away into Fushimi's chest. It was overwhelming, more than a little dizzying. It was too much faith put in him by putting next to no faith in him, not directly, and this was just one of the ways Hidaka got under his skin.
"Haven't you heard? I'm good at that." Fushimi had shot back, wry, weary, so tired of it, of everything, possibly of leaving too.
And then, "But I told you before, didn't I? I do better on my own." It was the same old refrain, again and again. Here, more likely, it was a reminder to and for himself, once again for good measure lest he forget.
Even so, Fushimi had turned in his arms like a study in contradiction, kissed him, soft then sound, breathed into it and drawn it out, and it had been everything he had not been able to say:
_On my own, it's safe; on my own, no one can leave, can't change a thing, can't touch me, can't--_
Except Hidaka had broken the thought when he’d kissed him back, arched into it with his whole body, his whole heart.
_I'll never leave,_ Hidaka had said into it, with his mouth and his hands and the burn between them, both spoken and unspoken so effortlessly that it was unwinding and disorienting. _Cross my heart, I'll never leave._ )
* |
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