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7593cc7f062440ffbb962cddd50295c0 | ['aa9ad798c38746ec9412e49505c00bad'] | "It's for protection! You didn't grow up here; you don't know how far some of these animals are willing to go for food." It's true, though. They get desperate after so much of the island lying dormant for months.
“How about we compromise. I don't wear the shades, and you don't carry your shotguns.” He countered.
“Just one? Please?” It really wouldn't be fair to anyone if we put everyone's lives in danger over him wanting to be ‘careful around the guests’. Besides, I knew he couldn't say no if I played with his feelings a little bit. “Wouldn't it be a shame if someone were to be killed on our wedding day?” I walked forward, taking care not to trip over the long dress. I made my way in front of him and finished tying the tie, tugging it tight before stepping back, my hand still resting on his chest. “The guests are already here. They're probably ready to go by now.”
“One gun.” He held out his hand.
“Only if I get the shades.” I put out my hand as well.
“Fine.” He gave in and reached up to take off the legendary shades. He kept his head down, waiting a moment before looking back up. It was impossible to say no to such brilliantly colored eyes staring you down. I pulled up one side of my dress and slipped the shotgun out of its holster with practiced ease. We traded our prized possessions, and I chose to slide his onto a high shelf while he had his back turned to put the weapon away.
“Ready?” He asked, and I was reminded of how little we both knew about weddings.
“I'm no expert, but I'm fairly sure you're supposed to be out there before me.” I'd never been to a real wedding, but from what I'd seen in the limited collection of movies I grew up on, the one in the suit is always waiting for the other to walk down the aisle.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who knows anything about weddings?” He asked, and I could tell he was sarcastic. He grew up kind of isolated too, so I didn't expect him to know much about weddings anyway.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who knows anything about guns?” But if we were getting snarky about it, then I'd definitely be winning this argument.
“Jesus, guys, can you hurry up? Or do you want to be late to your own wedding?” We both glanced over and saw another one of the guests, short black hair and in a baby blue dress, another bridesmaid.
“We're coming, it's just that neither of us knows how the wedding is supposed to go.” Guess we should have, because it's our wedding, but what can you do?
“You never did a rehearsal?” She asked, seeming perplexed at the idea of not rehearsing what was supposed to be such a beautiful day in your life. The best days in one's life are always improvised at the last second. At least, that's how it is in my experience.
"We were, erm- busy, at the time..." I replied, fiddling with the sleeves of the dress though they were fine as they were.
"Doing what?" She asked, still confused.
There weren't any other words, but I looked over to my soon-to-be partner to find that the face he was making betrayed my silence. Her face began to turn red and the hurried out the door, shouting as she did so.
"You're so gross! And hurry up, everyone's ready!"
"Guess it's time, then," I said, turning to face him. I offered my arm. "Shall we?"
"I thought you said I had to be there first?"
"But I can't leave you alone for that long, who knows what kind of trouble you'll get into without me..."
"Eh, it was already an unconventional wedding. How bad can it get?"
We talked together to the clearing with the altar and were greeted by the flower girl and ring bearer before anyone else saw us.
"Are you guys finally ready?" She was dressed in olive green, with a dark sapphire blue sash tied around her waist, an oversized bow and long tail in the back. She held a white woven basket of flower petals in every color imaginable.
"Everyone is prepared for the ceremony." He was dressed like most of the other guys in the wedding (those not wearing the white dress), a black suit with a blue bow tie, matching the flower girl's sash. He held the pillow with the rings resting on it, each one a rather plain silver band, but holding an emerald and orange diamond in each.
As the flower girl began making her way down the aisle, the rest of us followed. The ring bearer followed close behind us, because of the no shades rule and him only having prescription lens shades he was left with only being able to see about four feet in front of him.
As we approached the altar, I saw the officiant already standing there, dressed in a black suit identical to the others, with a cherry red tie. He looked down and didn't meet anyone's eyes before he spoke, knowing how creepy it was not to have any color to your eyes other than white.
"Are we ready to begin?"
We both glanced at each other before nodding. | ed70d6dfa6aa4719aaf0f1e08b554770 | ['aa9ad798c38746ec9412e49505c00bad'] |
Wedding day
Prompt- start with “they say seeing a turtle on your wedding day is good luck” and end with “now I'm doing 10-20 in federal prison. Stupid rabbit”
They say a turtle on your wedding day brings good luck. I suppose we had cheated a bit, but hey, we were going to see a turtle by the end of the wedding, close enough for me. We had planned an elaborate wedding, grand and extravagant by anyone’s standards. The main course for the dinner was going to be a roast boar and turtle soup, served in the shells. So, since they didn’t specify how we had to see the turtle, I figured it would be close enough. We’d planned on having the rabbit with it as a side, but since the breed we had wasn’t native to this area, we decided against it. At least, that’s what he thought. The only problem he had was the worrying thought of one of them getting loose and causing difficulties with the ecosystem here, but I didn’t see a problem with having it anyway and simply taking extra measures to make sure they didn’t go anywhere but the table. And, as an advantage, we’d have the pelts to keep as a reminder of the wedding day, since we’d caught all of them live a week or so ago. It was expensive to get a butcher that would be willing to help out with a wedding, especially in such a remote area, but with the money we have, they didn’t have a problem flying out here.
I’d wanted to have the wedding on the island I grew up on, because of how beautiful it became each spring, and the open water surrounding it gave fresh air and a light breeze every so often. Everything had been set up a little walk away from the house, which, given its size, would serve as our venue after the ceremony. We had the altar set up closer to the shore, with a braid of vines and flowers marking the aisle. There were rows of chairs lined up on either side, each with a small bouquet of flowers resting on each one. We set up an extra row in case anyone else showed up, but we hadn’t invited too many people anyway. 30 or so people, which isn’t a lot for a wedding. Once in awhile, an animal would roam through, investigating our set up, and someone would have to chase it away. So far there hadn’t been any problems at all, and as far as I was concerned, that’s perfectly fine.
Everyone still outside glanced up as a noisy plane flew overhead, and though there were no distinctions between it and any other plane that might happen to pass by, I knew it had to be the rest of our guests arriving. The island was so remote, any planes or ships going near it would either be flying much too high to hear or sailing too far away to tell it was a ship. I made sure everything was in its place and began making my way through the forest and back to our cabin. Walking through the tall grass in a wedding dress is kind of inconvenient, but with the time and effort it took to get the darn thing on, I wasn’t planning on taking it off until after everything had happened. Some people, ignoring the impracticality of walking through a forest in a wedding dress, might have commented on how I should be wearing a suit for my wedding, and be marrying someone of the opposite gender instead of the same. But none of those people were around, and someone had to walk down the aisle in a poofy dress, and that person was going to be me whether they liked it or not. I tugged on the green sash, trying to get it to stay put. While I was focused on keeping my dress clean and in place, I failed to notice someone walking towards me. It wasn’t until they had already passed me that I saw them.
“Nice dress, is he going to be wearing one too?”
“Wha- oh, no, he’ll be in a suit, and thank you.” I recognized her as soon as I turned around. Short blonde hair, a black headband keeping most of it out of her face. She was a bridesmaid at the wedding, wearing a short lavender dress with a mint sweater. She had linked arms with another guest, and it didn’t take much to guess who it was. Her dark emerald gown was a contrast to the other’s, but a deep lavender sash around her waist confirmed that they were here together. Her black hair was left down, but she had a scarf matching her dress draped over her head, concealing her more 'inhuman' attributes.
I found my way to the cabin in less time than I anticipated and worked my way through the maze of halls to what we had designated as the dressing rooms to see if he had finished getting ready. I slowly pushed open the door, in case someone else was in there too. Most of the guests had come dressed and ready, so I didn't have much to worry about. As I walked in, the only person there was already dressed in a black suit. Though his back was to me, I knew that the whole look was completed with an orange bow tie, which he was fiddling with and trying to get tied in a mirror on the facing wall. Though his eyes were obscured, his face changed from frustration to relief when he noticed me.
"I thought we agreed on 'no shades during the wedding'?" I asked, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
He sighed though it was with a smile and followed by a quiet chuckle. "And I thought we agreed on 'no shotguns or concealed weapons during the wedding'?" |
fe90c4778fad4483ade02015b0563788 | ['aaa7910c93c84e4a9f7c2f9b016eb678'] | Mingyu sighs and leads him to a park bench where they sit. For a while, Wonwoo remains transfixed on the dead crumpled leaves that crackle and blow by in the night breeze.
Finally Mingyu breaks the silence and speaks. “That was really stupid you know that?”
“I- I can take care of myself,” Wonwoo mumbles, sounding like a small kid.
“Really? Because what would you have done against those assholes if I wasn’t there huh?”
“Dunno,” he whispers before staring at his feet and swinging them back and forth. He finally looks up at Mingyu whose eyes match his worried or concerned expression.
_Mingyu’s eyes are somehow pretty._
“What did you say?”
Oh shit, did he actually say that out loud? Wonwoo wants to smack himself.
“Yo-your eyes are funny,” he lamely responds.
“Funny?”
“Yeah bro, what else?”
“Ok then.” Mingyu gives him a curious look. “Anyway, Wonwoo please don’t do something like that ever again, ok? You could’ve gotten really hurt.”
“You... you’re doing it again.” Wonwoo garbles unhappily and leans closer until the two are only a couple inches apart. “You act like this, b-but really it doesn’t _mean_ anything does it? You just want to finish your job fast, and go back.”
Mingyu stares at him wordlessly.
“I know that’s kind of the point,” Wonwoo rambles on. “B-but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. You keep being nice to me, and I have to keep reminding myself that it’s only because you were put in this position and not because you actually...you know, _want_ to get to know me. O-or that you even like me— as a person.”
“That’s not true,” Mingyu whispers, staring at the ground.
“Isn’t it though?” Wonwoo laughs bitterly, and he faintly feels wetness against his eyes. He quickly blinks it away before Mingyu can notice and curses in his head. Why does he become such a confused, emotional mess when he drinks? Frankly it's embarrassing, but now that he’s started he can’t stop. “C-cause otherwise, you would’ve asked before you tried to make that contract. But you were just trying to get things done.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Because I’m right?”
“Only half of it...” Mingyu looks up at the dark sky, as if there was anything to see in it. “You are partially right, because I did think that a bit. But I also...” Mingyu meets his eyes and seems to hesitate before brushing his words away. “Just, never mind....”
“Why do you keep doing that?” he frowns and pokes Mingyu’s cheeks. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.” Mingyu gets up with finality. “Here let’s get you home.”
Wonwoo bites his lips and shakes his head. “Don’t wanna.”
Mingyu groans. “Come on Wonwoo. We’re in a fucking freezing park at 11:30 in the night.”
“I like it out here. It’s cold. The cold feels good,” he fiddles with the sleeves of Mingyu’s coat.
“Yeah and that’s how you get sick!”
Wonwoo grumbles as Mingyu drags him onto his feet. “We’re leaving. No buts.”
“Fine whatever,” he huffs before quietly adding, “So is the um, bus gonna pick us up here?”
“Wonwoo the bus doesn’t come in the middle of the park.”
“R-right, it doesn’t.”
“Anyway, we’re not going to take the bus. We’re going to travel _my_ way.”
“Your way?”
“Remember how I told you some of my abilities?”
“Yeah....” Wonwoo’s voice trails away before a light switch flicks on in his brain and he practically screams, “Wait we’re going to teleport?!”
“Oh my god, shush.” Mingyu tries to get him to calm down before he slides their hands together.
He looks up in surprise. Mingyu’s wide and calloused hands seem so natural against his, even though they really shouldn’t. His brain feels like it’s spinning again, and he can’t place this feeling. He really wants to throw up now.
“Alright, you don’t need to do anything. Just don’t let go ok?” Mingyu instructs.
“Mhmm kay,” he shakes his head, and takes a peek at Mingyu who has now closed his eyes and is muttering something.
Before he can question what’s he’s doing, a strange sensation squeezes his insides and it feels like something heavy is pressing against his head, amplifying his already existing headache.
***
Mingyu opens his eyes again. They’re standing in front of Wonwoo’s apartment now.
He turns to look at Wonwoo who stumbles beside him. “Woah there!” he exclaims, taking Wonwoo by the shoulders to keep him upright.
“I feel sick. Like really sick,” Wonwoo mumbles with little coherence. “Ya know, like the ‘think I’m gonna throw up’ kinda sick.”
Suddenly Mingyu remembers what he learned years back— the first time travelling like this can always give massive headaches. And considering how much alcohol Wonwoo had, Mingyu just added onto his headache. Oh god, why didn’t he think of this? How stupid could he be?
“Fuck ok,” he begins to panic. “Where are your apartment keys?”
Wonwoo fishes his keys from his back pocket and fumbles with them until Mingyu takes them from his hands and opens the room himself.
He takes Wonwoo’s hand and rushes him to the bathroom.
Of course someone throwing up isn’t a pretty sight, and as much as Mingyu wants to get out of the bathroom, he stays and pats Wonwoo’s back the whole time.
Eventually Wonwoo is sitting on the couch looking exhausted, and sipping on some water. He appears far more sober now— and sleepy.
When he sets the water away on the coffee table, his eyelids begin to droop.
Mingyu silently shifts over to sit beside him. “You should get to bed you know? You seem tired.”
“I will,” Wonwoo mumbles in response.
“Are you feeling better?”
“I am.”
“That’s good... I um, I have to go soon ok?”
“Soon? When is soon?”
He glances at his watch, which reads 11:45. “I guess now actually...”
Mingyu sighs and gets up. He’s more or less out of time. | d62243a2a38241038671ccc0b5813551 | ['aaa7910c93c84e4a9f7c2f9b016eb678'] | “Sorry,” he repeats, because somehow Mingyu of all the people asking him actually made him _want_ to go. Jeon Wonwoo wanting to go to a fucking party— it’s unfathomable, yet here it is.
“Hey it’s okay,” Mingyu shrugs. “I’ll have double the fun for you as you study.”
Wonwoo laughs at that as he turns around to exit the bathroom. “Okay Mingyu.”
Mingyu. Drunk calling. At 12:30 am.
It seems like an awful cliché, but ever since Mingyu appeared in front of him, maybe Wonwoo’s life is slowly becoming a big fat cliché.
_“I... I want to see you,”_ Mingyu’s words are slurred and hazy even through his cellphone.
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo sighs. “I thought you said you were gonna get a ride back with your friend? He wasn’t planning to drink right?”
_“I don’t want to.”_
“What do you mean you don’t want to?” Wonwoo snaps, trying to hold back the irritation in his voice and failing. He begins pacing absentmindedly in front of his bed.
_“Wonwoo I want to suh-see you. C-can you come pick me up? Pl...please?”_
“It’s past midnight. Seriously, where’s your friend? Let me talk to him”
_“I dunno where Junnie is,”_ Mingyu sniffles. _“Don’t wanna see him.”_
“You don’t what now?” Wonwoo’s palms begin to stick with sweat against his phone, and his footsteps back and forth in his little room quicken. “Mingyu, did something happen?”
_“Nuh-nothing happened. Jus- just want you here. Please Won?”_ His voice breaks a little at the end.
Wonwoo abruptly halts his steps. “H-hey! Wait, are you crying?” Immediately, panic is worming its way through his stomach, and Wonwoo takes a small gulp. “Ok jesus, wait. Where is the house?”
_“It’s at the corner of the street,”_ Mingyu says, before pausing to so _helpfully_ add, _“I’m under the big ass tree in the um... f-front yard.”_
Wonwoo wants to pull his hair out. “No, the address Mingyu. The address.”
_“Oh. Uh Suh-sixty something, Ro...Rooster Street.”_
“You mean Roster Street.”
_“Dude whaddever.”_
“Ok ok,” Wonwoo sighs and tries to calm down. Mingyu has patiently dealt with drunk him. He should try and do the same. “I’ll be there in 15.”
_“B-but, that’s too long,”_ Mingyu’s voice breaks again.
“What the fuck, are you crying again? Please stop crying,” Wonwoo begs.
_“Am not crying,”_ Mingyu sniffs. _“I’m just sad. What am I supposed to do for 15 hours?”_
Wonwoo almost wants to burst out into anxiety-induced laughter. He’s really not good at dealing with this. “15 minutes Mingyu. _Minutes_.”
_“O-Oh, okay then. It’s fine, I guess.”_
“Yeah. See you soon.”
_“Bye. Luh-love you.”_
Wonwoo nearly chokes on his spit. He wills himself to keep his composure when he says, “Please don’t move and do anything stupid after I hang up, ok?”
_“K-kay.”_
And with that, Wonwoo ends the call and let’s out a world-weary sigh. He kind of wants to sink into the ground and disappear, plus wipe out memory of everything Mingyu just said to him so he can go to sleep peacefully.
Instead, he throws on some jeans and a jacket, and runs out of his apartment to Jihoon’s place.
After a couple harsh knocks, Jihoon opens his door with a groggy and unhappy, ‘what the hell are you doing at my door at midnight’ kind of face.
“I need to borrow your car,” He wheezes out, having just run up 4 flights of stairs.
“What the fuck Wonwoo?”
“I’m sorry!” Wonwoo cries out defensively. “Look, Mingyu’s drunk, at some party. And I don’t know what happened, but instead of getting a ride with his friend like he was supposed to, he called me and begged me to come pick him up. He nearly started crying when I tried to tell him no!”
Jihoon sighs and rubs his nose bridge between his thumb and forefinger. He spins back into his apartment and comes back with a set of keys jingling in his palms. “Alright, just make it quick. I want to sleep.”
Wonwoo nods and takes the keys.
“You know where my car is parked right?”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo says and is off down the hallway.
“Hey!” Jihoon barks out from the door. “Make sure he doesn’t puke in my car or I’ll kill you!”
“Got it!” Wonwoo yells back without turning around.
When he’s finally seated in Jihoon’s car, he punches in the street name on his phone. Although Mingyu didn’t give him a proper house number, he’ll probably be able to just find it by looking for the house at the corner of the road with a big ass tree— and hopefully a Kim Mingyu underneath said tree.
Wonwoo sighs and starts up the car. He’s only driven Jihoon’s car twice, unlike Soonyoung’s car and was definitely not used to it. Nonetheless he tries not to think about it, and just drives.
It’s only takes about seven minutes to reach the destination, and sure enough Mingyu is standing under a huge bare tree, speckled with some snow. When Wonwoo drives right next to him, he can see that the guy is shivering a little in his leather jacket.
He pulls down the windows and calls out his name to get his attention.
Mingyu nods, and walks (or rather, _attempts_ to walk) around the front of the car. He nearly trips once, and then twice, which makes Wonwoo flinch and groan.
He eventually reaches the door in one piece and stumbles inside. Wonwoo reaches over to readjust his limbs so that they’re all in the vehicle, and buckles in his seatbelt, all while Mingyu whimpers that his head hurts.
When Mingyu is secured, Wonwoo starts driving and he feels the boy’s unwavering gaze on him. He refuses to glance over, but his eyes widen when suddenly there are cold fingertips running against his cheeks.
“Mingyu don’t touch me,” Wonwoo snaps. |
ca79e7f7d7e145cbb06d0d199c07ee55 | ['aab74e514c6f4461a5196747eecbd203'] |
Deprogramme
Bucky paced back and forth in the room, occasionally turning to face you and speak but always closing his mouth and then going back to pacing and muttering in a mix of Russian, English and Romanian. He huffs and grunts then uses his left arm to punch a hole in the drywall.
The mission had gone well apart from one small issue where Bucky had been triggered, at least partially, into The Winter Soldier. Steve had done much of the grunt work in bringing him back to his senses; Bucky had immediately asked to be taken to you.
Now this “semi-stable” man was pacing and muttering in confusion and shame while you looked on. There was no use asking anything right now, you had to wait until he had calmed a little more until then you stayed put so he at least knew where you were and that he wasn't alone.
\---
It took three and a half hours for Bucky to stop pacing and muttering. You'd felt horrible for leaving him when you needed a bathroom break and heard him immediately call your name in a panicked tone; the look of relief on his face when you returned was enough to make you promise never to leave him again.
“I'm sorry…” Bucky mutters softly into the room. “I didn't think… I mean… I've been…” he stops, not able to fully make the sentence.
“I know. It's not your fault James.” You keep your voice quiet and soothing.
“I don't know how they did that to me. After everything… I don't know…” he looks at you then the floor.
“I know. Steve doesn't understand either but they're going to find out…. But you don't have to worry about that.”
“Why…? What if it happens again?” His voice raises a little before he checks himself. “S-Sorry…”
You offer a smile and take a step towards him “They're not going to let that happen sweetheart. Right now, let's just go day by day, yeah?”
He watches you and nods, just a little. “Yeah.”
“Tell me what you need. What I can do to help you?” You offer your open arms for him.
It had been many years since Bucky had been triggered; since the words were spoken. You hadn't been around then but when you had started dating Bucky, Steve had a 'talk’ with you. Fiercely protective over James he had explained what had happened the last time and then once he could tell you were ready, he had shown you the security tape and talked you through what needed to be done.
“You...I need you.” His eyes don't meet yours, they stay on the floor as he steps towards you and wraps his arms around your waist.
You'd never known Bucky to be emotional but you could feel him sobbing against you now, his large frame trembling against you. Slowly, you sink down to the floor and lean yourself back against the simple bed that was bolted to the floor in the relatively barren room. There was nothing in that room that Bucky could use against himself or someone else; not that it would be needed if he wanted to kill.
Bucky lays himself on his side up your torso, head on your chest where he could hear your heartbeat and steady breathing. Keeping his voice quiet he closes his eyes, “I was so scared; I could feel myself going… turning into…” He stops and swallows thickly. “All I could feel was that I was ready for instructions… ready to know who to kill.”
You stroke his hair lightly; your touch making him startle a little against you before he relaxes again with a slow breath. “It's okay James.” You soothe him, stroking his hair and arm while your other arm wrapped around his waist the best you could. For such a bulked up super-soldier, Bucky was surprisingly light against you.
“If Steve hadn't been there…” he starts.
“But he was. He was there and even Mr. Stark helped…”
He lets out a half laugh-huff “Only because he wants to kill me himself..”
“Doesn't matter… he still helped.” You stroke his cheek lightly and feel him nuzzle your fingers then nod a little “he did… yes.”
Pressing a light kiss to Bucky's head you feel him relax almost completely and let out a heavy sigh, his arms fully wrapping around you.
“You wanna lay down on the bed Bucky?” You whisper the question and press another kiss to his forehead.
He smiles and nods “love it when _you_ call me that.”
You preferred to call him James, occasionally Jam as part of an inside joke that would forever make him blush and when you called him Bucky or Buck, he'd melt in your hands and turn into a pile of goo with puppy dog eyes; now was no different.
Leaning up from you carefully, Bucky stretches and rolls his shoulders then his neck. His arm whirrs quietly and seemingly 'winds down’ as he relaxes not just physically but mentally.
“Let's get you comfy baby..” you offer and kneel behind him with hands resting lightly on his shoulders, still on the floor.
Bucky sighs and nods as he looks down at himself; his clothes were filthy and torn - another jacket ruined, more pants that needed patching. He undoes his jacket and helps you ease it off; leaving it on the floor. Beneath his jacket he wears a sleeveless UnderArmour vest top that also needs repairing and is stained with someone's blood; whether his own you'll never know because of how fast he heals. | 45152454605241b2beecf89928f72f02 | ['aab74e514c6f4461a5196747eecbd203'] | “So ready for me… just like that…” he remarks and finally makes full contact with your wet pussy; his fingers pushing into you and thrusting quickly until he can hear your wetness. You’re gripping the railing and groaning louder, then you’re begging for his cock instead of his fingers. You’re whining and mewling for him to fuck you the way you need to be fucked and after he’s had his fill of your demands he quickly switches out his fingers for his hard cock without warning. You call out and arch your back further, pushing back against him because you have to have him as deep as possible inside you. His thrusting is relentless; both of his hands hold your hips with bruising force but as great as you both feel he wants to go deeper. The window cleaner lifts your leg onto the railings making you balance on your tiptoe; lucky for him that not only are you very bendy, your balance is perfect.
You moan and pant heavily as you feel the head of his solid manhood thrusting hard against the neck of your cervix; he growls as your walls pulse around him and then watches as your head drops forward when you climax. You demand he doesn’t stop and lean yourself up to press his chest to your back giving him an amazing down view of your breasts as he fucks up in to you. He groans and grunts roughly in your ear while talking filth - “That’s it; you cum until it hurts. You cum for me until my cock is covered in you.” - his rough hands glide up from your hips to fondle and massage over your breasts, to tease your nipples; he pinches and rolls them between his fingers making you whine and rock your hips the best the angle allowed. He can tell by your quickening pants that you’re close again and he knows he can’t hold on much longer himself; he calls out and whispers filthy questions in your ear.
“You close for me? You wanna cum around a strangers cock again? You want me to fill you? Or do you want me to cum on you?” his whispers turn to half snarls as he finds himself trying to control his own urge to release then and there. “You a slut for this? You like being fucked by random men? You just need to get fucked that bad, huh?”
You run a hand back around his head and moan loudly, his words too much for you to take as your body releases. You call out as your orgasm takes over every part of you; your legs shake and give out leaving the Window Cleaner to hold you up, leaving you at his mercy as he continues to fuck you until he can’t hold back any longer and fills you deep with his seed. You feel the sticky mess of your encounter running down your inner thigh when he pulls out and redresses himself.
Catching your breath you lean on the railings and run a hand through your hair, posing yourself as seductively as possible. “Say… maybe you could... clean my windows again same time next week?”
He nods “Always happy to help keep some things clean.” winking at you before picking up his tools. “Other things should always stay dirty.”
3. The Barista
When you walk into the small, out of the way coffee shop to get out of the rain, the place was already empty. Admittedly it was almost midnight but you expected more people from a college town. Wringing out your hair a little you look around and notice a young man walking out from the backroom; he’s well spoken with an English accent as he introduces himself, he has what passes for scruff on his face while his brown hair is slicked back. You remark at how quiet it is an engage in small chit chat that has nothing to do with anything much as the man pours out your coffee and continues to remove balloons and streamers; you ask what the celebration was for and he sheepishly replies it was his 23rd birthday - all the while his eyes are darting around trying too hard not to look at your chest.
He offers you a towel to help dry off and brings it over with your coffee to where you’re sat, his eyes finally landing on your ample breasts which could be clearly seen through your drenched white blouse and sheer bra; not to mention how cold it had gotten so your nipples were fully erect and straining against the sheer material. The Barista blushes and looks away when you notice and smile.
“Like what you see?” You watch him head back to finish tidying; heading too and from the back room. He doesn’t answer but simply blushes darker.
You’ve almost finished your coffee but haven’t managed to dry off much more when he brings over another. “Hot chocolate. On the house.” he smiles a little and manages to not turn beet red. You thank him and nod “Appreciated, thank you.” He clears your table and then seems to internally fight with himself over saying something to you; evidently his confidence wins over and he makes he was to your table again.
“There’s a heater in the back room… you could dry your clothes and...I’m sure i can find some blankets to wrap up in…? For you…. For you to wrap up in.”
You nod and smile “Can I bring my hot chocolate?”
He smiles and nods “Yes, of course.” motioning for you to follow him through behind the work surfaces to the back room and then heading to presumably get a blanket. While he disappeared up a small set of stairs you lick your lips and slowly peel off your wet clothing until you’re stood in nothing but sheer panties and bra. |
f01c894604904a64bdc611d3847ae825 | ['aabf1d6f2bac43f990c8d57dacc038cc'] |
1. Adventure Numero Uno: Your Mummy and Daddy Love You Very Much
**Author's Note:**
> For Maris during these trying exam times.
Sanji and (Daddy) Shanks took their regular seats in the musty, smoky bar. At this time the bar was already beginning to gain momentum and noise, alcohol permeating every fume of air, each inhalation enough to get even the wettest tastebuds begging for sake. Sanji’s uncle Hawkeye (sibling to Mummy Buggy, who had met Shanks through her older brother) was already waiting in their designated booth, pouring sake down his own throat.
These were the ‘man lessons’ Shanks had to give his adoptive son Sanji – otherwise the clingy woman known as Shanks’ life partner and other half, Mummy Buggy (as everyone, even Shanks referred to her) would ruin the child indefinitely. Shanks wouldn’t raise a cowardly child who cowered behind its mother. At least Sanji was close to matching him drink-for-drink and was useful when out in the bar with Hawkeye, Shanks’ other life – and drinking – partner. Sanji was a decent designated driver.
Which was his role for the evening. Hawkeye and Shanks downed more alcohol (they had been steadily drinking throughout the day) and Sanji waited for the right moment to strike, when Shanks reached the perfect level of drunk where he was both easier to talk to and more giving in his answers.
The moment was reached an hour and a half later, the tolerance of the drinking pair high after their daily drinking activities.
“Shanks,” Sanji was only allowed to call him ‘Daddy’ when at home, “Why don’t you love Mummy?”
Sanji’s pre-planned question had emerged after his conversation with his Mummy the day before…
-
“Sanji-poo!” Mummy Buggy trilled, clobbering down the staircase. She twirled around the banister and managed to stop her momentum just inches before smacking into her son’s body, blue curls mounted high on her head. She had freshly-polished her clown shoes just for the occasion and dragged Sanji by the wrist to the plush living room, sitting down on a paired sofa.
“My darling Sanji,” Mummy Buggy petted locks of Sanji’s blonde hair, “You now have an honest and long relationship with that other boy, don’t you? Sorrow.”
“His name’s Zoro,” Sanji gently corrected, not that Mummy Buggy was listening (she was too busy admiring her beautiful son’s face, expecting nothing less from a child raised by Shanks-san), “And we’ve been dating for less than a week, Mummy.”
“Of course, of course my dear boi. I had met your father for less than a minute and already knew I was obsessed with him! But anyway, onto less important matters – or rather MORE IMPORTANT because they are to do with my little boy, my smol angel.” Mummy Buggy was tearing up at the thought. “Ah, you’re all grown up now!” Mummy Buggy sniffed. “Now, let me tell you all of Mummy’s tricks and trades of the bedroom – and of course, how to manage your man in the bedroom.” Mummy Buggy winked at author-san. “Tip one,” Mummy did jazz-hands, “Always – always leave your man wanting more. Never give him everything. I, for one, have never slept with your father Shanks.”
“You mean sex?”
“Ah, my dear boy!” Mummy Buggy screamed. “I meant in the same bed!”
“The same…bed?” Sanji was dumbfounded, shocked into silence, and Mummy Buggy took this as a positive reaction, smiling and cupping his hands. Sanji remembered how he had never been allowed into his parents’ bedroom and always assumed that was normal for children – but what if in those four walls his parents were hiding what was truly a disintegrated relationship, two separate beds with too much space between them?
“Ah, well I’ve always been a strong-willed woman, Sanji.” Mummy Buggy was still sniffling, cupping his Sanji’s hands closer to her bosom. “Your Daddy wants me. I can tell. It’s in his sultry looks and the way he showers naked.”
Sanji wondered how his Mummy showered.
-
“Sanji,” Shanks said with a slight slur, “What’s important is that both Mummy a-and Daddy love you both – very much.” Shanks clapped his hand over Sanji’s that was resting idly on the table. “W-why don’t you get me and you – hic – uncle more sake?” One of the other regulars said something in Shanks’ idle ear, snatching his attention.
Sanji went to the bar to order more sake. Why did Shanks’ word sound more like what you would say to a child before his parents broke up?
sanpei - hi guys!!! how did you like this first installment??? sowee for the shortness, first chapter just to introduce you to the characters!!!
pwease leave comments and kudos and tell me if you like!!!
2. Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Mummy Buggy was having a glorious time decorating the garden for her precious boi’s eighteenth birthday party. She was pinning Thomas the Tank Engine balloons up that read ‘HAPPY EIGHTEETH BIRTHDAY SANJI’ and had caterers bringing out chairs and tables from a van for the party.
Luckily her smol boi was busy at that moment – his boyfriend had decided to take him out for his birthday. Mummy Buggy trusted Sanji-poo not to be doing anything over PG – and either way, she had a private investigator following him (for his own security and protection, of course!) whenever he went out without his parents.
Shanks, having heard the commotion, heaving himself out of a midday hangover-induced nap (most commonly taken in the spare room where Buggy was less likely to stumble onto him) and into the garden, shading his eyes with his hand. He watched Mummy Buggy’s stocky frame buzz back and forth between caterers and moving men, adjusting every little detail from her spot on the footladder where the doting control freak in her couldn’t help but get too involved. | 6219197c86e144e4ab60e9fa561ad7dd | ['aabf1d6f2bac43f990c8d57dacc038cc'] |
1. Chapter 1
"You know the reason why Nami will never get with you, right?" Luffy says, sitting on the rails of the ship in a precarious position.
It's nightfall. The air is fresh and clean and salty only in a way it can be when on a ship in the middle fo the sea. Sanji is sipping at a glass of wine, looking out towards the barely-visible waves, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top buttons undone. He leans his arms against the rails and looks up towards his captain. "Why not?"
He has been rejected, once again, by the woman who holds his interests. Sure, he is not one to give up – especially when concerning Nami-san – but it does grate at one's self-esteem if they are time and time again rejected by the one they admire.
Luffy leans forward and whispers conspiratorilly, "Because someone else on this ship likes you," he mutters, before jumping off the rail and running inside the deck.
Sanji sips his wine. Someone else? He scoffs. He's not interested in anyone else.
Especially since everyone else on the ship is a guy.
…
Sanji doesn't bother finding out who Luffy claimed likes him. If they liked him and they had balls, they would approach him themselves. He wasn't going to seek them out.
And Sanji was kind of hoping Luffy was lying to help him feel better about himself.
The only other people on the ship aside from himself and Nami were Luffy, Usopp and Zoro. He couldn't imagine Luffy liking him – the guy's thoughts didn't span far past meat – and Zoro was basically a stone statue. Sanji knew that meant that if anyone on the ship liked him, it would be Usopp: he cringed at the notion and pushed it far, far out of his mind. Ignorance is bliss. If he doesn't address the problem, hopefully it will mellow down and he would be able to pursue Nami in peace.
A few nights later he finds himself cleaning the kitchen to the sound of the ocean waves. Sanji turns when he feels the presence of another; Zoro stands in the doorway, leaning against it.
"Why haven't you been chasing Nami as much?" he asks gruffly.
Sanji snorts. "None of your business, moss-head." He turns back to the kitchen appliances and scrubs them down angrily.
"None of my business?" he says gruffly with a snort. "How so, love-cook?"
"Shut up," Sanji snaps through a cigarette. "It's my business whatever I decide to do with my time. Shove off."
"Whoa," Zoro says. "What are you getting so pissy about?"
Sanji looks at Zoro angrily through blonde lashes. "I'm not." He slams a saucepan back to the cupboard.
Zoro walks into the kitchen and grabs a teatowel. "At least let me help you dry all this stuff out," he says.
"I'm surprised you're not sleeping," Sanji snaps back. "Listen, just go."
Zoro ignores him and starts drying off a glass. "I heard what Luffy said to you the other day."
Sanji snorts. "Luffy says a lot of stuff to all of us. I think you're going to have to be a little clearer than that."
Zoro puts the glass in the cupboard. "About how someone on the ship likes you."
Sanji gives Zoro a dirty look. "If you're here to tell me that nobody could ever like me, then you should just go! Seriously. You're such an idiot." Sanji starts scrubbing the worktop with a rag. When he doesn't hear Zoro leave, he snaps, "What are you still doing here?" He drops the rag and turns around. "What, you want me to kick you out of here? Because I will!"
"Like you ever could." Zoro leans back against the work surface. "What's gotten you so upset, anyways?"
"I'm not upset," Sanji spits out.
Zoro walks up to Sanji, who stares him down throughout. "You look pretty upset."
"You look pretty ugly."
Zoro grabs Sanji's chin, and just as Sanji is opening his mouth to tell him to get his ugly face out of the kitchen –
\- he tilts head up to meet his in a kiss.
Sanji freezes.
This – this was who Luffy was on about? Out of all people who could have liked him – Zoro? At least with Usopp, it was unlikely he would make any proclaimations of love. Zoro?
When Zoro pulls away, Sanji is still in a daze of confusion. Zoro looks at him, expressionless, still too close.
Close enough for Sanji to punch him.
"What the hell?" Zoro says, gripping his jaw.
"You can't say what the hell!" Sanji says. "What was that about?" When Zoro hesitates, Sanji kicks him in the gut. "You think you mess with me? You're as ugly as you are deluded!" Sanji grabs Zoro's head and knees him in the forehead. "Why aren't you fighting back, stupid?"
Sanji pushes Zoro away from him. Zoro grabs the table to right himself, wincing as he pulls himself into a standing position. "Do you usually beat up people who kiss you?"
Sanji looks at Zoro, anger burning in his eyes. "I'm not dealing with this," he snaps. "Clean up the rest of the kitchen." He turns and leaves, slamming the kitchen door shut.
Zoro rubs his jaw and looks around the spotless kitchen. He slaps his forehead with his palm.
Only he would be dense enough to be unable to even tell the person he is infatuated with that he likes them.
2. Chapter 2
Sanji avoids Zoro like the plague for the next few days.
Every time Zoro enters the room, Sanji leaves. Every time someone mentions Zoro’s name, Sanji gets angry – angrier than he usually does. He’s in a perpetual state of pissiness. It doesn’t take long for Nami and Usopp to figure out that Sanji knows about Zoro’s feelings, and Usopp doesn’t seem keen on sorting them out.
“They’ll figure it out,” Usopp says. |
6cfbb7f50459499585d5449896799ae2 | ['aadaf12f2fcd4010a715aa3238717cb3'] | Carter reddened a little, then said, “I apologize sir. It’s just that I don’t believe that you all should be punished anymore than what you are already going through for this.” She sighed, before continuing, “I was the one who was hurt. I was the one you guys attacked. Don’t you think I should be the one to pass judgment?” She looked around at her teammates, stopping to stare at Jack, who stared back at her, admiring the courage she was wearing like a cloak. “Colonel,” she continued. “I know you remember when I attacked you in the locker room. What if you weren’t able to stop me then? Would you have me up in front of a judge for attacking my commanding officer?” Jack shook his head, but she was already rounding on Daniel. “And Daniel, I couldn’t stop Jolinar from using Sha’re against you. I knew how much it would hurt you, but I couldn’t stop her.” She stopped and went back to staring at the table, apparently to gather her thoughts and her wits about her. She looked up then and said, “I think the punishment you are all putting yourselves through is more than enough in this case.”
Silence reigned as everyone dwelled on their own thoughts. Jack spent the silence watching his second in command. She had gone through so much, he thought as he watched her glare at the table. More than he would ever want her to go through, and she was handling it like a trooper. He wondered, for the first time, how she was really dealing with it, while at the same time feeling badly because he couldn’t help her. She wanted him to pass on his wisdom of coping with hardships such as this, but to do so would be to open up all the old wounds, and he was determined that those doors would stay closed.
“Dr. Mackenzie will be here this afternoon,” General Hammond said, as he stood up. “I’m sure he will be more than helpful to you all.” Jack grimaced at that, but wisely refrained from saying anything. Carter, on the other hand, wanted something else cleared up.
“Does this mean that we can go home, General Hammond?” The hopeful look on her face had Jack wanting to punch out the General for not thinking of this earlier.
“Yes,” Hammond responded, with a small smile aimed at the Major. “After your visit with Dr. Mackenzie, of course,” he hurried to clarify. “But other than that, you all are no longer confined to base.”
**********************************
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Jack. He had managed to finish his mission report and make the obligatory visit with Mackenzie, which resulted in a deadlock for both parties. Fortunately, Mackenzie had worked with Jack before, so this was nothing new for either of them and Jack got off with an “I’ll see you at your next appointment,” from Mackenzie. They both knew that Jack would eventually spill his guts, but until then, Mackenzie slipped in his own brand of magic in soothing Jack’s soul as he chipped away at the walls Jack had built up in his mind.
He was on his way home and he was way too anxious to get there. He was looking forward to grabbing a beer from the refrigerator and vegetating up on his roof, while watching the night sky light up with stars. Downtime to sit back and think went a long way in helping him to “deal with it” and he was looking forward to finding some peace among the stars.
The house was dark when he got there, but the car in his driveway told him that his downtime was going to have to be put on hold for a while. Daniel was sitting on the steps of Jack’s porch.
“Daniel?” Jack said, as he got out of his truck. “Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Daniel responded wearily. “I was just in the neighborhood…”
“In the neighborhood?” Jack had to ask. Daniel just shrugged and Jack felt sorry for him.
“Come on in,” he told his friend. “I think there might be something edible in the house somewhere.” Daniel followed him in and headed for the living room while Jack went into the kitchen. “Coffee or beer?” Jack asked.
“Coffee is fine,” Daniel responded.
Jack got the coffee going while Daniel wandered aimlessly around the front room, looking at objects he had seen a thousand times before. “Okay Daniel, what’s up?” Jack finally asked. The silence was starting to unnerve him. Daniel usually always had something to say.
“Sam seems to be taking all this very well,” Daniel responded.
“Better than can be expected,” Jack said, wishing he knew what was coming. He had a good idea, but his mind refused to touch on the subject. He was afraid Daniel had come to him for help in dealing with his guilt.
Daniel nodded, then said, “You know, a beer would be better.”
“Okay,” Jack said, as he stared at his friend. Daniel had something to say and the fact that he needed a beer to gather up the nerve to say it had Jack on the alert. He went to get it, deciding that he’d probably need one himself. “What’s on your mind, Daniel?” he asked, when he had come back from the kitchen.
Daniel took the beer, popped the top and took a big drink, before saying, “I was just wondering how you are handling all this.” He stared at the bottle in his hand, before looking up at Jack, “I mean, look at you. You act as if nothing is wrong. How do you do that? How do you just turn it all off and go on as if you hadn’t hurt Sam?” | 5bcd4f6aaaca46198c894f28b7927548 | ['aadaf12f2fcd4010a715aa3238717cb3'] | Passing of the Torch
Memories and reality blended into each other these days, more so now as the poison worked its way through his system. He was dying once again, and Jack wished this would just end all ready.
Still, the woman stood in front of him, a mere shadow of a reality that was important to him somehow. She came in close, staring deep into his eyes, looking for her salvation.
"Is it you?" she asked.
She was brave, he had to give her that. "You shouldn't be here," he told her.
"You look so different. How can you be Kanan?"
"I'm not."
"If I leave with you, he will know."
Yeah, Jack thought sadly. He finally remembered the real reason the Tok'ra brought him to this planet. No one gets left behind.
"He used both of us," he said, weary to the bone of this whole mess.
"He did use both of us," Ba'al said, causing the memory of the woman to fade away like a whisper on the wind. Fading away to leave him with the monster standing in front of him, gloating over the pain he inflicted on his victim. "How long were you host to this Kanan before he convinced you to come here? Days? Or merely hours?"
"I don't remember," Jack lied. Everything had come to him clearly and he wondered how long he could keep the secret. Ba'al turned to the table to choose another weapon, and Jack knew it wouldn't be long before he spilled his guts and told the guy everything he knew. He was just so tired of this. He waited for yet another round of torture, but then something else seemed to be stirring within him. Something that scared him more than Ba'al's torture chamber.
"What did this Kanan share about his previous mission here?" Ba'al said as he turned to face Jack, who watched as the determined look in the eyes of his enemy turn into something else. Triumph. Ba'al had won. Kanan was back from wherever he was hiding to protect what was his to protect.
"Tok'ra," Ba'al said with satisfaction. "You finally surfaced, as I knew you would."
"The Tau'ri is weakening," Kanan said through Jack's voice. "I am here to make sure that you do not gain the information you seek."
Ba'al just smiled, not the least bit affected by Kanan's bravado. As much as it galled him to do so, Jack had to agree with Ba'al. They were prisoners of the sadistic bastard. There was nowhere to run from the torture, and the sarcophagus guaranteed a very long visit. Kanan, however, didn't see things that way.
"You will never learn the secrets of the Tok'ra."
"Oh, I've only just begun," Ba'al said, his tone and smugness promising dire retribution. The poison churning in Jack's body made it hard for either of them to respond to that, another death was imminent. But Kanan was determined to get in the last word despite the weakness.
"As have I," the Tok'ra announced, just before the knife splintered Jack's shoulder, causing yet another wave of agony to course through his body. Death came a few moments after that, as did his final thoughts this time around.
Help me, Kanan. Help me end this for all of us. |
417431644ff9455b8658d6a020e92335 | ['aaf9a85c8c4c49ba8084932f6c2807db'] | “Whoa, I was just making a joke.” She frowned, but then smirked. “Besides, the only reason you don’t find it funny is because you like Max.”
“What? No, Victoria. She’s my friend.”
“Oh, Katie. You can be friends with someone and like them that way. Jesus isn’t going to condemn you because you think Caulfield is cute.”
“Leave me alone, Victoria. What could you possibly know about my faith or about my feelings?”
She came closer to the auburn-haired girl. Kate fiddled with her cross, out of nervousness. Victoria getting this close to her face was usually bad news. “Look - I know that I’ve been a complete bitch to you in the past and I am sorry. I can’t take back the things that I put you through. If anyone is going to hell for anything, it’s probably me. But just because I give most people a hard time and invest most of my time into myself, it doesn’t mean that I don’t notice what goes on around me. I’ve seen the way that you look at her in class, Kate. I know how much time you’ve been spending together. And you know what? She probably likes you, too. But you’re not going to know that if you never ask about it.”
Kate began to see red. “Oh, I asked. She likes someone else.” Now she was the one getting closer to Victoria’s face. She dropped her binder, papers escaping as it met the floor. “Someone that will never deserve a person as selfless and wonderful as Max.” She took a step back, and a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Actually? I’m not sorry. You’ve made a lot of my time here at Blackwell utterly miserable. I felt hopeless. I almost killed myself because of people like you. And then I didn’t, because of people like Max. So please don’t sit here and talk to me about Heaven or Hell or taking chances or how I look at someone in class because you don’t know anything about me, Victoria Chase. Not a damn thing.” Just then, Max came out of her room. The two looked at her, still wearing their feelings.
“Whoa!” Max interjected, stepping between them. “What’s going on out here?”
“Nothing.” Victoria announced, taking a step back and brushing off her cashmere cardigan. “Nothing at all, Maxine.” She turned on a heel and made her way out of the building.
Max put her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”
“I’m fine.” Kate snapped. She bent down and started shoving the papers back into her binder.
“Kate, what happened?”
“I said that I’m fine, Max!” She shouted, not realizing how loud her response was. Max back off, frowning as she watched Kate scramble to pick up her belongings. She stood up and paused, offering up a more calm response. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, I mean it.”
“Are you s-”
“Yes, Max. I’m sure” Kate was frustrated. She pushed past her, even though all she wanted to do was drop her assignments again and just drag her back into the bedroom to hold her. “Look, now isn’t a good time anymore. I’ll see you later.” Before Max could respond, Kate fled to her room and shut the door.
Max stood here, still trying to process what just happened. Except she knew - she heard what Kate had said to Victoria. Could it be, the almighty Kate Marsh had feelings for… hipster wallflower Max Caulfield?
She hoped so, because it wasn’t Victoria that Max wanted - it was Kate.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Well, well, well. That took a turn, didn't it? I promise that the ride won't be too wild... or will it? Unlikely relationships, unlikely friendships, words from people you'd never think to hear. Stay tuned for the next update. It'll be a few days. Thanks for all of the support, and be excellent to each other.
3. Approachable
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello, everyone. I've some news for my lovely readers: I'm working on another story, besides this one. I'll put it up very soon. Probably before I finish this one up. I get stuck a lot, but I've been on a roll and I'm going to crank out as much as I can while I can. Things are about to get a little hectic. Thanks for all of the support so far. Without further ado, here's more Marshfield fluff.
Max didn’t hear from Kate for a few days. It’s not like this was a new phenomenon to her; this has happened more than once before. She saw her in class and in the halls, but chose not to say anything to her after the first day.
“I told you, Max - I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk today. Okay?” She said once in photography, although it sounded more like a growl compared to Kate’s usual softness. The words echoed through Max’s head like a cave full of sounds. A cave resembled most of how she felt nowadays: empty. Other words were trapped in that head of hers, too: ‘ _I’ve seen the way that you look at her in class, Kate._ ’ Those were Victoria’s words.
‘ _I could_ ask _Victoria,_ ’ she thought to herself. ‘ _I could also play in traffic, but I don’t do that either._ ’ Despite her doubt, Max felt that she was out of options. So, three days later, she went across the hall late one night and knocked on Victoria’s door.
“A moment!” She shouted from the other side. There was some shuffling, and then the door opened. Victoria was standing there in a pajama set that looked like it cost more money than Max’s entire wardrobe. “If it isn’t the Selfie Whore of Blackwell,” she grumbled, arms across her chest. “What do you want, Caulfield?”
“Hi, Victoria. Sorry for knocking so late.” | a694f8dcabd04a2bbf1d9869d607e567 | ['aaf9a85c8c4c49ba8084932f6c2807db'] | “Darn it.” She called out to no one in particular. She closed the book and laid her head down on the desk. She looked over at Alice once more. “What do you think I should do, Alice?” The rabbit continued to nibble on a strand of hay, ignoring her hazel-eyed owner’s question. “Are you trying to tell me to ignore all of this?” No visible response. “Maybe you’re onto something, little one. Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away.”
And so, Kate did just that. She tried to, anyway. It worked for a day or two while she avoided all contact with Max. She’d listen for her to leave and enter her room, and time it so that they never ran into each other. However, her “sick days” ran out and it was back to classes and people. Seeing as she had art with Max, she could no longer be avoided.
Kate slunk into the classroom, nervous about her first class back with everyone. A majority of her classmates had already expressed their relief once she returned to Blackwell, the most intense of which was actually Victoria Chase. She was one of the people that contributed to Kate’s suicide attempt, but she was now a concerned peer. She sat with Kate for a while, just the two of them, the first day that she was back from the hospital. It was weirdly nice. They had actual conversations about art, and food, and animals. It was nice to know that beneath the cool exterior, there was an actual person in there with feelings and ideas. Good ones, too.
She said hello to a few people, giving them a little smile before getting to her seat. Not even a minute had passed before Max arrived.
Max stood next to her desk. “Hey, Kate.”
“Oh, hi Max.”
“Have you been okay?” Kate gave her a quizzical look. “I mean… that was a dumb question. I’m sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Well… good. I’m glad.” Max beamed.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t really been around.”
Max leaned against her desk. “Hey, it’s okay. I know that it’s hard for you to be around people, to readjust to all of this. I might not get what you’re going through, but… I’m here for you, Kate. I’ve always been.”
Kate couldn’t help but smile; she had no idea what to say. Before she could, the bell rang and it was time for class to start. Max patted her shoulder before getting up and going to her own desk.
After class, Max caught her again.
“So, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah…” She fiddled with a string on her jacket and scratched the back of her head; she was cute when she got nervous. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’ll understand. I just thought I would offer? In case you want company?”
“Well…” Of course she wanted to spend time with Max, but she didn’t have a clue how to do that without her feelings getting in the way of everything. “I… would like company, yes. I think. Your company, actually.” ‘ _Katie, behave yourself._ ’
Max lit up at the thought. “That’s great! What would you like to do?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Oh…” Max rubbed her neck. “I’m sure we can find something. We can go out, for a walk, get food, watch a movie…”
“Maybe we could watch a movie?”
“Yeah, sure! We can pick one later. If you think of one before then, let me know. What time works?”
“Is six okay? It leaves a few hours for homework and relaxing.”
“Six is great. It’s a date!” Max cheered. Kate could feel herself blushing. Max saw the look on her face and wasn’t sure how to handle it. “Oh - I didn’t mean it that way! I meant like a friend date!”
‘ _I wish you’d meant it the other way_ ,’ Kate thought to herself. But, she gave her _friend_ a weak smile. “Maxine, it’s okay.”
Max made a gagging sound. “Oh, Katie. Max - never Maxine.”
“Oh, Max. Kate - not Katie.”
“Why not?” Max asked innocently. “I think it sounds cute.”
“Hm… maybe it does.” Kate replied, trying to be coy. “It’s cute when _you_ say it.” Max blinked at her; she couldn’t decide if Kate were flirting with her or just being playful. ‘ _She couldn’t have been, no… Kate Marsh? Flirting with_ me _? No no no,_ ’ Max thought to herself.
“So, uh… See you at six,” she turned to leave. “ _Katie_.”
2. Uncomfortable
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I wasn't going to post this update until tomorrow, but I caved. I was feeling a little inspired. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.
Kate spent the next few hours fretting about her “date” with Max. She cleaned her room, organized her books, and then laid with Alice to try and calm herself.
“What should I do, Alice?” The rabbit nudged her owner with its nose when Kate stopped petting her. “I can’t express my feelings. Can I? Should I? It feels wrong, but everything feels right when I am with Max. She’s always been so nice to me. She’s kind, she’s funny, she’s smart… She’s my friend. What if she doesn’t like me that way? What if I mess up and she doesn’t wanna be my friend anymore?”
The rabbit flopped against Kate’s thigh. “I wish I could be that comfortable, bun. But…” she paused for a moment. “Alice, what if Max _ does _ like me that way?” The small creature nuzzled her hand. “It would make some sense. Right? But Max is nice to everyone. And she tries to make everyone feel good. How could she possibly like me when there are girls like Victoria Chase down the hall?” Kate spent a little more time with her pet before getting ready for Max to come over. |
5b23dea79f9c4965844435cd4990b876 | ['aafabc363ef5461e891563554ad797fa'] | “You’ve got quite an ear for music, vhenan. It’s a wonder no one in your clan thought to teach you.” His eyes rose to meet hers. “Or that you did not seek to learn on your own.”
“I had never thought it interesting before.” She sat cradled in his arms, Solas enveloping her from behind. He had his narrow chin propped up on her shoulder so that he could watch her move her untrained fingers across the strings, fingering the most basic of chords. They had been playing for almost an hour. That particular evening was perhaps the fourth time he had given her a lesson, and she could play a few simple songs, most of them nursery rhymes. When she began to play through one of them again, he bent his head to press his lips gently to her neck.
“I think you’re allowing yourself to get distracted, teacher,” she said gently, playfully.
“No, you’re letting _me_ distract _you_ ,” he murmured, moving his lips to the lobe of her ear. She could feel him smile against her skin. “Keep playing.”
Ellara swallowed and set to playing one of the gentler songs she had learned, playing it slowly and carefully as he continued to kiss at her neck. She crooned wordless notes of harmony with the song, resolved to finish her tune even as Solas wrapped his arms about her middle, careful not to nudge the lute. She let herself fall into the rolling, easy rhythms of the simple tune and tried to keep her focus. Solas stopped his distracting kisses, but his hands continued to wander as she carried on with her song. At times, he would murmur gentle words of advice into her neck. While he began playfully, his voice became deeper, rougher as he continued.
“That note was a bit sharp, yes?” His fingers brushed from the outside of her hip, down her thigh, and rested on her knee.
“Beautiful. Play all the chords like that one.” His other hand, still at her stomach, glided slowly upwards. The pad of his thumb slowly traced the curve of the underside of her breast through her loose shirt while his knuckles pressed at her ribs.
“I’ve never heard anyone play this one with as much tenderness as you do, vhenan.” The hand on her knee drifted back over her thigh, though he kept his fingers on the inner part, this time. Ellara swallowed.
“Careful not to rush.” He leaned even more forward, pressing his chest up against her from behind. She felt something press at the small of her back. “You’ll get to the end of the song in time. You’re very close.” He slipped the hand on her ribs further up, coming between her and the lute even as she continued to shakily play. He cupped her breast momentarily before pressing his palm to her collarbone. He tapped a single finger over her heart. “Keep the beat, even if _this_ is racing.”
She could practically hear the grin in his voice. Even with less than a minute left in her song, Solas didn’t let up. His other hand moved up her thigh, pressed at the spot between her legs. Ellara nearly broke a string, and her harmonizing humming came out as something of a squeak. Pure determination and stubbornness carried her through even as her companion sought to distract her. He nearly succeeded, too. His fingers had just begun to slip into her trousers to brush at her soft hair when she finished the song. The lute hummed with the last note as the two breathed heavily.
Ellara broke the silence. “I thought that went… very well.”
“I would agree.” Solas said smoothly, moving to press his lips to the line of her jaw. “You work beautifully under pressure.” He moved to remove his hand from the waistband of her pants, and she touched at his wrist as he did so.
“I practiced, as you suggested. I do believe I recall you offering some sort of a reward for a worthy performance.”
“And what would you suggest?”
“I believe you were on the right track.” Carefully she picked up the lute at its neck and moved to lay the instrument on the ground. She shifted her body until she was turned towards him, her legs draped over his thighs, ankles crossing behind his back. She touched delicately at the collar of his tunic. “I’ve been away a week, vhenan. I’ve missed you.”
Solas considered her for a moment, and she thought that she could feel his eyes trace over the lines of her vallaslin. Eventually he leaned and pressed his bare forehead against her own. “And I have missed you.”
Suddenly his was pushing her, lunging forward until she was laying on her back, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Hungrily he pressed his lips to hers as his fingers slid underneath her shirt, her own hands fumbling under his tunic until they found the laces of his pants. In a rush they undressed each other, heedless of buttons and buckles and laces and ties except where it was necessary. Neither paused until every article of clothing had been removed, and that was the point at which Solas stopped.
Ellara’s lover was a slow one. She had never met someone with so much time. Met with her own hotheaded impatience, the two had quarreled at first, finding the difference difficult to overcome. There was no rushing Solas. But now, it was a quality she loved about him. A quality that was especially wonderful in a lover. | f55531214f2a4f2f8890aedf5c38179c | ['aafabc363ef5461e891563554ad797fa'] | Draped as she was over the sheets, she regarded him as he stood over her, his hands at his sides. Ropey muscles and tendons snaked under his skin, adding some definition to his otherwise thin frame. Weeks before, she had been delighted to discover that he wasn’t _completely_ bald, with the thin stream of hair that snaked down from his navel and the light-colored tufts that ran down his legs. Before she was given enough time to admire him, however, he suddenly hovered over her, leaning over the bed as he pressed his hands to the pillow on either side of her head. His narrowed, hungry eyes suddenly softened as they stared into her own. Gingerly brushed his hand through her short black hair. Traced the point of her ear. Held her chin between chin and thumb and forefinger. Finally, he sighed.
“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” And then he was upon her.
His lips pressed to her neck, sucking gently at the spot where it met her shoulder. His fingers traced at the curve of her hip and down to her knee. From there, he took his sweet time as he drew patterns on her inner thighs, even as she drew her legs apart and open. Each time he drew closer to the space between, he would suddenly dart away, back to her knees, smiling into the flesh of her neck. When he finally paused over her opening, his hand close enough to tease at her soft curls of hair without actually touching the flesh, Ellara inhaled sharply. “Solas.”
“I know.”
Slow, slow. Lightly his middle finger traced at the slender line between her folds, already slick as they were with wetness. She made a low sound in the back of her throat as he teased her, sometimes tracing along her opening, other times moving his thumb in slow circles around the space above. Ellara nearly hissed with the anticipation, raking her nails gently over his back as he bent over her. Slowly he kissed his way down to her left breast, and as soon as his lips closed around her nipple, he slipped a finger inside of her.
Ah, but Solas was a patient lover. Sometimes he murmured to her as he stroked her, curling his fingers in slow, burning patterns. At other times he used his mouth, clutching her to him even as her back arched and her body shook. At some points he himself even seemed consumed with impatience, pressing his fingers incessantly into her as he kissed and sucked bruises onto her chest, plucking roughly at her hardened nipples with his free hand. Only when she was on the brink, whimpering his name, hovering on the precipice, so close, did he finally thrust his member inside of her. She imagined for a moment that she saw stars.
All of his earlier patience and slow, teasing caresses disappeared under a wave of fierce passion. Solas thrust into her with an urgency only matched by her own, a wildness that never ceased to surprise or thrill her. This thoughtful, quiet man had turned out to be the most intense of lovers, and it warmed her to think that they were never off balance as a pair. But then, of course, he often made it rather difficult to think. Especially— _Ah._ Her fingernails clawed red lines into his back as he shoved his full length inside of her, the backs of her thighs aching from their position on either one of his shoulders. Her hand fumbled its way up to the back of his head, which she pressed forward until his forehead butted up against her own. “Vhenan,” she panted. “ _Vhenan.”_
They spent the majority of their evening with such occupations, and only when they had thoroughly exhausted themselves did Solas pick the lute from the floor again. With Ellara pressed stickily to his side, he sang to her as she drifted off, his soothing voice the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.
_Ellara exhaled raggedly. Her lips were parted in a quivering sort of smile as she hummed a wispy, broken imitation of the same melody that she remembered. She shifted slightly on the bed, burrowing herself into the pillows. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she allowed other scenes to consume her, other memories. Too few. Too few of him. But she could make more, couldn’t she? Wouldn’t they make more?_
_Her smile disappeared. A hard, thin line took its place. Idly she reached up with her right hand and touched her cheek, where her vallaslin had been. Her eyes shut tight as she allowed the memory to wash over her. To burn. It was the last time she heard him play._
It was late and Skyhold was asleep. Or very early, rather. Dawn would be a few hours away, but Ellara was only too aware of the night. She sat in the armchair normally occupied by Dorian, surrounded by shelves of books. He had left a long time ago to seek out an uneasy sleep with the rest of them. All of the mages who usually roamed about this part of the tower had also disappeared after some time, perhaps discomforted by Ellara’s presence. She knew her face made them uncomfortable. She knew they were too afraid to ask, not with the stony gaze she had shot to anyone who looked for too long.
By now her gaze had melted and left her bare cheeks wet with tears. She had spent much of her evening flicking spells at the candle in front of her, lighting and extinguishing the wick over and over again until all of the wax had melted away. The darkness suited her, for the moment, as did the silence. But just when she thought sleep would come to her at last, the silence was broken by something a floor below. |
adbd97b2c591494aa2615b80b870bf84 | ['ab0b5db1b06a43038b1f4c6f0bca129c'] | Just as she reached for the door, Killian opened it, almost running right into her. He opened his mouth to speak, eyes eager to speak with her. Before he could even get a word out, she pushed past him and started towards her yellow bug.
“Emma? Emma, please wait a second,” Killian called after her. She could hear him running to catch up with her, but she just kept her eyes forward and focused. “Swan, wait.” Finally reaching her, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around.
“What? What possible excuse could you have this time? I’m the freaking sheriff and I still find the time to call if I’m gonna be late.” Anger laced her voice, but deep down she was hurting, and they both knew it.
“I was helping David with a case and I lost track of time. I’m so sorry. I should’ve paid more attention.” She turned away, grabbing her keys to unlock the car. “I know I’ve been disappointing you a lot lately, Emma. I’m sorry, okay? I’m trying to be better.”
“I should’ve known better. You’re not reliable,” she whispered, mostly to herself.
“No, Swan. Please listen to me. It will never happen again.”
“That’s what you always say. You always say it won’t happen anymore. You always say you can explain, and somehow I keep listening to you and we always end up back here. I can’t do it anymore.” She was speaking so fast it was hard for him to keep up. Either that or he really just couldn’t fathom the meaning of her words.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his body turning numb.
“What I just said. I’m done. _ We’re _ done.” She yanked the bug door open and slid inside before he could try to convince her. She knew if she gave him the time to tell his side of the story, she’d forgive him as she always does. Time and time again she had let little things slide, like saying the wrong thing or forgetting to pick something up when she asked. But it was too much now. He did not appreciate their relationship as much as she did, and that scared her to no end. No way would she be caught caring more than Killian Jones.
It broke her heart to see the tears forming in his eyes, but she just started the car and put it in drive. With the way Emma was feeling right now, if she never saw Killian again it would be too soon.
Emma drove off, leaving Killian to disappear in her rear-view mirror; she didn’t even look back.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. This fanfic means so much to me, as do all of you :) | 10028d1df88043e9aa8a2d3f9e7a94f4 | ['ab0b5db1b06a43038b1f4c6f0bca129c'] | “Do you walk to school, too?” he asked before turning to go inside.
“Yeah, usually.”
“Maybe we can walk together, then?” You were thinking it but were glad you’re not the one who said it.
“Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll stop by your place around 7:30?” He smiles and nods at that. You wave him goodbye and walk the next few yards to your house at an animated pace. Maybe everything would start turning around.
You feel a little uneasy at how Sebastian made you feel. Putting all of your friendship and support into one person is bound to end up in disappointment, but he seemed to need the companionship, too. You’ve grown used to being on your own and not bothering with anyone else, but maybe things would be different from now on.
But maybe having a best friend would be nice.
2. a night to remember
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm so guilty of never proofreading so rip this chapter if there are any errors. Time jump into high school
“Where’s your boyfriend at? Did he finally ditch you for Hollywood?” Kaitlin and her girl gang crack up at the joke she makes about you and Sebastian. You act annoyed; the joke has gotten old over the past few years. You can’t wait for Seb to get his big break just to shut everyone up. He was still waiting for his acting career to take off, going on audition after audition for years with the only result being a few small roles in commercials. You tried to convince him to wait until school was over to try a career as an actor—the comments from others that followed were brutal for you to listen to, let alone Sebastian.
He missed yet another day at school for a big movie audition, leaving you alone in this hell hole again. You want to support him and be happy for him, but it’s a tiring road; you have no idea how he does it and still has a soul full of sunshine.
You slam your locker shut, leaving the laughter behind. Walking home alone was getting tiring, but Seb said he’d meet up with you after his audition. You stop by the convenience store on the way home and grab some snacks for your weekly Friday night hangout. Usually audition day meant Sebastian would come home disappointed, beating himself up over not doing something perfectly and knowing he wasn’t going to get the part of his dreams. Cheetos, Tasty Cakes, and three liters of soda filled the bags you had to drag home. Another downer about Seb being gone: he’s the one with a car.
You finally get home and flop on the couch. The TV is on to _Friends_ , but you can’t enjoy it after the long, tiring day. Head falling back, your eyes drift shut and you almost fall asleep before the phone wakes you.
“Hello?” you answer. Seb’s voice is quick on the other end. “Slow down. Dude, seriously. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” You hear him audibly take a deep breath.
“I got it, y/n. I got the part.”
“What?” you scream. “I thought the audition was today what are you even talking about.”
“No, no, not that one. The part I auditioned for with Ashton Kutcher! I’m playing his best friend. They called me and I got it!”
“Seb that’s so great. I’m so proud!" You wish you could see the huge smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about acting.
“We’re going out tonight,” he says. “We have to celebrate.” A pit forms in your stomach.
“I bought some stuff for tonight if you want to come over. We can rent a movie?”
“Come on, y/n. Live a little. I heard Emma’s having a party tonight; we should crash it.”
“I don’t know…”
“Everything’s going to change, y/n. It’s the beginning of the end.” You don’t have the heart to tell him you really don’t want to go to the party. You want to have your regular Friday night hangout, but he’s just so happy. So you cave.
“Okay, fine. We’ll go.” He cheers on the other end and says he’ll pick you up at eight, so you better be ready.
* * *
When Sebastian picks you up later that night, he can’t even begin to hide his excitement.
“You look great! We’re going to have a great time. I promise.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” you reply, trying too hard to ignore the fact that he said you look great. All you put on was a pair of jeans and a nicer blouse, but Seb complimenting you sends your self-confidence sky high. He always knows how to make you feel better about yourself. About everything really.
The music can be heard from down the block, and cars are parked along the entire street. You have to walk a little from where Seb parks, but it’s no mistake that you’re at the right house. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it’s so easy to get in.
Kids from school crowd the entire house, dancing and drinking and talking. Some of the people there are unrecognizable; probably from the local community college. They were definitely way too old to be in high school. _Act cool, act cool, act cool._ You have no idea how Seb looks so calm; maybe acting really is his calling.
Seb tries to whisper something in your ear, but it’s so loud you can’t even hear yourself think. He takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen where Emma and her friends are handing out drink after drink. It’s a little bit quieter in there, so you take a seat at the island.
“You want something?” Sebastian asks. |
f80d74063f8e40bb8139374b9fc88bd6 | ['ab277e2adb41437ab77c64e98718edbe'] | “It was stupid,” Jaime snapped in response. He ran a hand through his sweaty, close-cropped hair. “If not rather fucking impressive,” he added almost in spite of himself.
“As I said.” The oddly dressed man smiled. “Officer Lannister, good to see you again.” He inclined his smooth head towards Brienne. “And a pleasure to meet you, Officer...?”
“Uh, O'Tarth,” she supplied warily, but she removed her hand from her weapon.
“Yes, O'_Tarth_,” Jaime drew out once again. He _so_ did seem to enjoy saying her name.
The blond motioned towards the stranger with a casual wave of his hand.
“Meet Varys. Our most treasured informant.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> TBC...
Please Review.
4. Chapter 4
**THEN:**
* * *
“Fuck.”
Jaime took a hard look at his grim-faced reflection in the mirror. The abrasions and scratches from a scant few weeks prior may or may not have finally faded away. He couldn't tell over the fresh ones he had earned in his latest outing. His eyes, red-rimmed with dark circles smudged underneath, took in his surroundings muzzily.
He reached up with one finger, and pulled the skin beneath his right eye down to peer closer at his constricted pupils. Exhaustion was beginning to settle into the marrow of his wary bones, and he was no more than twenty-five years of age.
_Aerys_, Jaime internally cursed. _The self-proclaimed King_.
“Mad King,” he angrily spat aloud to his reflection.
The director of the FBI was a loose cannon. Jaime knew this. Everyone knew this. It wasn't a newsflash. The grizzled elder was unraveling before their very eyes, and taking liberties that were becoming increasingly dangerous, but not for himself.
_Oh no_.
He allowed agents, like Jaime Lannister, to wade into the cesspool of chaos he brewed up against any and all perceived slights. It was odd, Jaime had thought one night as he nursed a dislocated jaw with a cold compress pressed to his swollen cheek, how _close _Aerys wanted him by his side...yet how _willing_ he was to throw Jaime to the wolves baying for his blood. And these were in scenarios in which Aerys created for himself. Never mind Jaime's _actual_ caseload.
It didn't take long for Jaime to realize the _real_ reason why he had been personally cherry-picked out of King's Landing by Aerys. Tywin, his father and a prominent figurehead in law, had urged the director to select him. Jaime couldn't believe he had once thought his hard work and dedication outshone his family name. Tywin had only been all too pleased to inform him of the opposite.
“No son of _mine_ is going to be some common grunt. If you insist on pursuing this field, and not go into law as I have done, and my father before me has done, and so on – Well, then you're going to be at the very top. At least you've given up the silly idea of opening up your own PI agency.”
_The most foolish Lannister, indeed._
Jaime had felt hurt, and angry, but eventually convinced himself that he _did _earn his place within the FBI's ranks. He had graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice by the age of 21, was hired within the same year within a local Westeros PD outfit, then proven himself worthy of the maroon polo of the King's Landing Division at a WPD training seminar that first summer. He had only been with the KLD for two years when Aerys Targaryen chose him.
All of that _before _the age of thirty.
He was still so young, yet he felt beat down and haggard. He had risen too high, too fast, and he was burning out. He hadn't thought he ever would, but Aerys was throwing him in volatile situations that were only bound to explode in his face, and he _just_ turned twenty-five.
And it wasn't awful working for Aerys, not in the beginning, but it wasn't long before Aerys' true nature began to bleed through the cracks of his once perfectly molded facade.
But the man was clearly trying to get him killed.
If the stress from secretly working with IAB didn't get there first.
Then there was Cersei.
_God, _Jaime pressed his aching head against the cool mirror, and closed his eyes. _Cersei_.
The hinges of the bathroom door audibly creaked as someone let themselves in. Jaime pulled his head away from the glass, turned the tap of the sink on, and set about busying himself with washing his trembling hands.
Until a decidedly _feminine_ hand reached into his line of vision, blurry as it was, and turned the faucet off. The hand wrapped around his right wrist, and tugged firmly until he turned his body towards what he imagined was a figment of his exhausted imagination. He didn't meet her gaze. He knew those hands like he knew his own.
He had thought her name, and there she was before him.
“Cersei,” he breathed.
She placed a hand against his cheek, and he leaned into it.
“Brother,” she whispered back. She tugged him toward the largest stall, and he blindly stumbled after her. “I need you.” She locked the stall door, and pushed him backward until he sat upon the toilet seat. She followed him down, pressing her painted red lips against his in a bruising kiss.
“You can't be here,” he moaned lowly into her mouth. “Anyone can walk in. They can't see us together. _Cersei_,” he hissed out her name like prayer, as she expertly unbuckled the belt of his trousers.
“The door is locked,” she said as her hand rubbed the front of his pants until he slowly hardened underneath her warm palm. “I'm visiting my husband.”
“In the men's bathroom?” | 2615c98f376f487aa4884f9dc2ed63e2 | ['ab277e2adb41437ab77c64e98718edbe'] | "So," Peter drawled. He faltered, look down at his hands, and then back at the stranger. He shoved his left hand into the pocket of his jeans, and motioned at the space between the stranger and himself. He was a charismatic teenager, there was no doubt, but this was his first foray into an actual recruitment...and without his father by his side, no less. "So, yeah. That _was_ awesome."
"Oh, for f-"
"Dude!" Peter cut off Toad's expletive.
The stranger lowered his hands, and laughed. "Yeah, it was pretty cool. Do you wanna see what I can do?" The question would have normally seemed cheesy and ominous, but the other man didn't appear to be trying anything threatening or funny with them. He seemed genuinely excited to have met people that were just like him.
Peter could recall the moment he found out that he wasn't alone when it came to abilities.
"Sure," Peter shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His bravado eased and ebbed as he struggled to find the correct script to follow when it came to meeting fellow mutant strangers at night in a New York park – he was coming up blank.
However, no further words were apparently needed as the young man waggled his fingers like an epileptic magician, and caused the wild shrubs to expand and grow before they overflowed the part of the pathway he was standing on. He looked down at his work, and then looked back up.
"So?"
"So, Professor Xavier is going to be very interested in nurturing your ability."
The trio simultaneously turned to face a yellow and black clad duo standing to the right of them.
Peter nodded curtly at the pair. "Hank. Tattooed guy."
Toad scowled. "Ink. What are you doing with _him_?"
The tattooed teenager mimicked Toad's expression, but instead of using his words to show his distaste, he lifted up an inked hand.
Hank frowned, then realized what that meant.
"No!"
18. Chapter 18
Peter doubled over as he projectile vomited. He stumbled to the side, hands clutching at his aching and roiling stomach, and emitted a painfully deep groan. Although Peter wasn't paying him too much attention, it was obvious that Toad wasn't faring much better. The other teen appeared to have dropped down to his knees, his head bent toward the ground.
" _Ugh_ ," Peter moaned. He tripped over one of his laces, but managed to right himself against a metal railing that outlined the large park. He could feel flaky, black paint chips coat the palm of his hand from how hard he gripped the rail. He slowly loosened his fingers, one by one, and steadied his breathing. He heaved once more, but he didn't appear to be Ink's primary target.
More or less recovered, Peter scowled as he raced forward and tackled the vomit-inducing mutant at the waist. They fell backwards in a cacophony of muted grunts and sharply exhaled air, landing hard off the path. Peter was quick to his feet, and just barely managed to avoid a blow to the back of his head from the growling Beast.
The blue-furred mutant snarled as he swiped at the teen once more. He lumbered forward, and raised a thick arm to try again, but found himself unable to bring it down. He looked at what was hindering his movement, and growled in disgust at the long tongue that had wrapped itself around his wrist. He tugged hard, and offered a grin full of canine teeth when Toad was dragged a few feet closer.
Quicksilver, and that was who he was now, sped around the larger man and neatly jumped onto his back like a raging toddler. He pulled and grabbed at the blue fur with a ferocity that would have shocked the cattiest of school girls. The Beast could do nothing but yank his ensnared arm back and forth, like a dog playing tug-of-war, and swipe at his back like an enraged gorilla.
"A little help," he audibly grumbled to his companion.
The other half of the X-Men duo, simply standing on a grassy mound in his seething anger, offered a wordless nod. He darted to his left, toward the exposed Toad, and made as if he was going to tackle the teen as Quicksilver had just done to him. However, just as Toad was gearing up to launch a defensive maneuver to counter what he had thought was a telegraphed move, the inked teenager feinted to Toad's right and drew back his left fist.
There were several tattooed lines, starting from the tips of his fingers and going back to his wrist in evenly horizontal increments. The black ink rippled as he brought the fist across Toad's exposed face. The resulting punch rocked the Brotherhood mutant several yards back, but he managed to keep his hold on to Beast's arm – which in turn meant the haggard man was pulled along as well.
"Damn," Peter exclaimed with an almost jubilant glee. "Where _did_ you get those tats?"
"Get off me!" The Beast shrugged his wide shoulders, twisted his neck, and arched his back in his failed attempts to loosen Peter's grip. "Get off, you brat!"
"Ooh, ride 'em, Coyboy!" the silver-haired teen crowed as he boldly let go with one hand, and waved it around in the cool, night air. "Just like the spaghetti movies!"
A multitude of thick, dark green vines erupted from the trees and wrapped themselves around the bare ankles of Beast. The large man roared in frustration when he tried to shake them loose, but to no avail. They steadily climbed up his legs, twisting solidly around his large thighs before cinching around his waist. |
6f3c4f75a5da45aca80cac2c0e7dad8f | ['ab665fb39c6d44edade05c585ab22a57'] | Ichimatsu cuts him off with a hiss once more, not wanting to hear anything like that. Fucking Karamatsu, typical Karamatsu. He hates how his heart squeezes tight and his throat goes dry at the compliment. No doubt, Karamatsu soon will compare his flaring asshole to a blossoming flower.
Gross.
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me.” He says over whatever Karamatsu is about to say.
Karamatsu groans quietly and obeys. Almost. He leaves trails of his fingers going up again and without much pizazz, he slowly pushes a finger in.
It shouldn't feel this good, should feel like going down a notch in pleasure since it's less of a stretch but Ichimatsu moans out a sharp sound. Karamatsu doesn't know what he's doing, rubbing at the rim of his muscles delicately, and Ichimatsu’s toes are curling.
Karamatsu moves his fingertips so that it traces the circle and rubs again, then he pushes in deeper, past the first joint then the second, in as far as his body takes him.
Ichimatsu can feel him inside, every slight twitch and he wants to squeeze down hard. Knuckles press along his ass when Karamatsu turns his hand, wiggling as if in search of something. It's all curious movement, Karamatsu obviously doesn't know what he's looking for but Ichimatsu is shaking in response, sucking up air in desperate gasps.
Ichimatsu feels lost, can't wrap his mind around the fact that his hated brother has a finger up his ass, that he feels like his insides are tightening into a ball that is rolling to oblivion, and he thinks that maybe he’ll wake up and see Karamatsu laying next to him, asleep and at peace, not at all fraught with thoughts of fucking his sibling to death.
But then Karamatsu pulls out, and two fingers circle around his entrance. Ichimatsu knows that he could never dream up something that felt this good.
Karamatsu pushes in and it’s fire, the stretch and the way he curls in and twists his hand. He's getting more confident now, because he pulls out and thrusts back in without much pause.
Ichimatsu’s eyes close and he shuts his mouth in a useless effort to keep from crying out every time Karamatsu rubs in, but his whole body is clawing after a lightning sharp jolt of pleasure explodes inside him.
“Yes…” He hisses into the jacket, pushing back against him, “Another one…”
Karamatsu stops the delicious movement of his fingers and Ichimatsu hisses again, this time from frustration. “Why the fuck did you stop…”
He looks over his shoulder to look at him, face clouded with need and fury. Karamatsu isn't looking at him, instead watching his fingers paused at his entrance, biting his lip, and forehead matted with sweat wet hair. His eyes flicker to meet Ichimatsu’s and, stupidly, pathetically they both blush. That of all things is embarrassing.
“You can't…It's not wet enough.” Karamatsu says, and Ichimatsu groans. He's surprised that Karamatsu would figure that out, and he's about to dribble saliva into his own hand when Karamatsu bows his head and spits down to the fingers still holding his entrance open.
Ichimatsu’s whole body flares and he turns away quickly, presses his face down to the floor, keening loudly. The hand that had absently been stroking down his cock grips the base now to keep him from coming.
His mind is reeling. His _ brother _ spit on him. His brother…. _ spit _ on him, spit _ in _ him.
“Fuck…” He moans, and his other hand claws at the jacket beneath him. “Kara-”
Then three fingers push in and Ichimatsu lets out a hoarse cry, the invasion rippling through him and causing a flurry of heat to lash sensation through him.
Karamatsu digs into him, looking for something and Ichimatsu hears him spit again, the sound makes him arch back into his hands, and Karamatsu responds by twisting his fingers.
He scrapes against something tingly inside him and Ichimatsu shouts, his voice breaking and tears flood his eyes. That _ was _ …
Karamatsu likes his response, grinds down again immediately, seeking after it and Ichimatsu sobs into the floor. His hips are rocking back, spread legs shaking as Karamatsu mercilessly fingers him wide open.
He's still clamping down on his dick and he risks moving now, just a soft touch up, but it's not a good move because as he does, Karamatsu curls his fingers and rubs at the spot inside of him, and Ichimatsu’s world goes bright blinding white.
His body clenches so hard before rippling out a blast of pleasure that comes like waves over his body. It's everywhere, pushing this searing fire into every corner of his being and all he can do is ride it out and try to breath. He’s aware that he’s coming over his hand, but all his focus is concentrated on _ something _ inside him, a blaring fullness, an ache that stings three times brighter before joining what's cresting in his veins, pulling out strangled off moans from him. He’s clamping down on fingers, his throat and entrance are undulating in the same rhythm, trying to grip something and pull it in deeper.
He's coming down, his trembling limbs that were weak with pleasure soon turn sore and aching. It hurts, deliciously, his ass, his thighs, all burning with exhaustion. He feels disappointment, distant but growing with each passing moment. Is Karamatsu still going to fuck him? The whole reason he was doing this was because he was hard. Is he going to leave now? | 19205821da5644a3a7d1336518710aea | ['ab665fb39c6d44edade05c585ab22a57'] | He's gone soft in his pants, and by the time Karamatsu walks out to the living room again, shirt open and pants loose, Ichimatsu can't feeling anything simmering in his veins.
“I'm going to the bathhouse.” he says over the couch, and he can feel Karamatsu’s probing gaze. “I'm guessing you're coming too?”
Ichimatsu doesn't move except to put his guns back in their proper places.
“All done?” he mocks, and then looks back at his charge. The man looks red faced, and teary eyed, but in that moment he can tell that he was not satisfied. There is still tension thrumming through him. Ichimatsu blinks, and despite the heat being gone, his mind rages, the thought of grabbing at the second son and pinning to the ground, thrusting his fingers into him to feel how he clenches when he comes in waves around him.
Ichimatsu stands, and walks around the couch to the door. He looks at the bedroom, seeing a peek of a rumpled bed.
“He's dead asleep. Worked hard, the poor thing.”
Karamatsu says, as he pulls on his sports jacket and then bends at the door to put on his shoes. Ichimatsu hadn't bothered with the courtesy.
Ichimatsu wants to say something, he feels the words on his tongue but when Karamatsu stands, Ichimatsu sees long lines of scratches on his abdomen, and all his words leave him.
He despises them, the marks. It's twists something feral in him.
Karamatsu either doesn't realize Ichimatsu staring or doesn't care because he opens the door and leaves without preamble. He sticks his hands into his pockets starting down the stairs and Ichimatsu reaches him, stops him with a hand blocking his way.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Karamatsu frowns, but when Ichimatsu’s gaze flickers down to his scratched belly, Karamatsu doesn't laugh and brush him away. Instead he closes up his shirt, looking away.
“Fine.” he says, buttoning up quickly, strangely subdued. “-just need a bath, _Ichimatsu_.”
The name hang between them, and Karamatsu waits for him to mention his little game, saying _his_ title while being fucked by another man.
Ichimatsu merely looks at him, not bothered as the last of tan beautiful skin disappears underneath white. Karamatsu still doesn't meet his eye. He's not ashamed, is he? That doesn't seem possible.
Karamatsu, seeing that Ichimatsu isn't interested in discussing things, brushes past him, effectively shutting down the conversation.
Ichimatsu watches him go down the stairs before turning quickly and following him across the street.
\--
He's seen Karamatsu naked too many times now, one more shouldn't make a difference.
But it does.
Last night, he caved. He looked, and the lines of Karamatsu’s body were burned into his memory.
He had asked if he was beautiful and Ichimatsu had not replied.
Karamatsu was much more than beautiful. He was a demon, a devil straight from the darkest part of the scriptures.
Now, he kneels at a facet, his hands running over his body, pale long fingers crossing over the colors of his arms and his back.
The bathhouse’s private quarter is quiet as Ichimatsu stands by the only door. He can hear the clatter from the main room, but his sole focus is on Karamatsu.
Ichimatsu keeps his gaze on the tiles, trying to filter out the sounds of wet and sighs from his mouth. Damn the bastard.
“Ichimatsu.”
Ichimatsu doesn't look up, and thankfully Karamatsu continues before he can growl out a sound. “would you help me wash.”
Ichimatsu pauses. He should say no, should deny the request but he knows that Karamatsu is playing a game, is testing him.
He shouldn’t care that the other man is naked, it's a body, painted and bare but just another body and he has seen, has felt, plenty of those.
Ichimatsu moves, forces himself not to hesitate and he makes it to the lip of the wash area. Karamatsu is already lifting the sponge behind him, foamy and coarse. It's going to leave behind red streaks of irritation on his skin and Ichimatsu swallows. He kneels down; the ends of his coat dipping into the puddles on the floor, damping his knees, and takes the sponge.
Karamatsu’s shoulders flicker and then he relaxes, and Ichimatsu presses the sponge to his back.
He strokes down hard. Karamatsu whines, arches his back. “ Gentle, Ichi-kun. Please.”
Ichimatsu softens his touch, sweeps down again, watching the skin shine with soap and water.
The tattoos are intricate, even if they aren't original. He could spends hours tracing the thick black lines that come together to create the design, find all the small details of what had to be days of work. A fierce snarling tiger, entangled by vined flowers and spraying seawaters. The colors meld together like a landscape, the bright splash of orange and red shaded with dark purples and blues. It looks like a painting etched into skin, a living work of art, like flowers are blossoming from the knobs of his spine, and as Karamatsu shifts and moves, the skin slides over bones like the pictures are trying to escape their lack of tangibility and come flying into the real world. Ichimatsu raises the motion of his hand to his neck, to where the character stands out against the pale of his neck.
‘ _Little Brother.’_
It's an odd choice, doesn't match the rest of the design on his back, and Ichimatsu wonders how it must feel to slide into Karamatsu and see that word as he gives into release.
Ichimatsu tightens his jaw and blinks away the thought. Instead he focuses on the press of his hand and the absolute stillness of Karamatsu’s body.
He really is beautiful.
It's methodical, not as suggestive as he thought it would be and Ichimatsu feels like he can control the heat in his veins, but then he makes the mistake of looking down where the suds are gathering, low on his back and between the crack of his ass. |
4c127aadcc314eef96e1da3896d71cfd | ['ab7ce81555724d0e90446b69cfd8ef64'] | “I thought I heard my door. Was it unlocked again?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Fuck,” he shook his head. “I have to get that fixed. But anyway, you’re a little early and thankfully I finished early.” Oh, Taehyung definitely finished alright. Jimin cringed at his own thoughts. “We can start studying. I can even make ramyeon if you want. You hungry?”
“No, it’s fine.” Jimin’s voice sounded too high-pitch, too unnatural, because at that moment he was craving something else, one that included the overdue fulfillment of his thirst. “I mean, you know, if you’re busy, you don’t have to tutor me today. I-I can just, I mean I’ll go.” Jimin tripped a little over his own feet as he headed towards the door.
Taehyung frowned, fingers grasping Jimin’s elbow. The warmth that radiated off the taller boy’s body and the ghost of his moans had Jimin shivering. “What? No, it’s fine. What makes you think I’m busy?”
“W-Well,” he stuttered. “I just sort of heard — not that I meant to — I’m sure you—” And that was when Jimin registered how utterly ridiculous he sounded. Taehyung must not have realized that Jimin overheard _everything_. Well, not everything, but enough to have his skin crawling and dick rising. “Never mind.”
Taehyung raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s clamped lips. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just a little shaken, I guess. I thought I saw, uh, a rat earlier.”
“In the apartment?” This time, it was Taehyung’s turn to look stricken. His face had paled immensely at the thought of a rodent scouring his humble abode for free food. “ _SHIT!_ ”
Jimin opened his mouth to say otherwise but Taehyung had grabbed him by the collar and taken him on a journey in search of the rat.
✖︎ ✖︎ ✖︎
Jimin loved his hormones. For a little while, he thanked the heavens that he had been blessed by a high hormonal levels that kept him horny, kept his stamina going whenever he was having sex, which made him an obviously desirable partner because _holy fuck_ could Jimin keep fucking. Jinyoung was initially attracted to it too, the fact that Jimin was always so goddamn thirsty. Perks for the boy because that meant he got more dick action than most.
But sometimes, there were nights that Jimin really hated his hormones, especially when Jinyoung was being an uncooperative asshole and Taehyung’s voice was still echoing in his ears. He groaned and flopped back on the bed, an arm over his eyes to pray the filthy thoughts away. He hadn’t had sex in a while and the tension that had accumulated inside of him built an irritation that couldn’t be scratched away.
His phone buzzed, notifying him of a spam message, killing his hopes that Jinyoung would reply. Jimin should really let that brat go. Speaking of the brat, he thought about V’s advice. He should probably just rip off the bandaid and get rid of Jinyoung altogether.
Jimin cursed under his breath. He wished it was that easy. If only V was here to keep him away from Jinyoung, maybe that would help. He grabbed his phone from the table and scrolled through his contact list. He might’ve added V’s number into his phone after that night — it’s a safety measure, in case he needed anything. Advice, wise words, phone sex. He bit on his bottom lip, thumb hovering over the name. He was freeloading V’s services but the guy did offer— _THUMP._ A loud noise from above had him jumping and holy shit, what the hell was—
“Hello?” V’s baritone voice bounced off the rooms.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Jimin scrambled for his phone, wincing. “Oh, h-hi, hey.”
“Hey, Chimchim, right?” V sounded a little breathless. That certainly didn’t help with Jimin’s terrible imagination at that moment. His libido was going haywire and he wished he could just get rid of it altogether.
Oh, who was he kidding? He loved sex too much to let it go completely.
“Hello?”
“Y-Yeah, it’s me."
“Hey, did you need something?” V’s tone turned a little teasing, a little singsong that had Jimin’s blood pumping. He could already imagine the upcoming turn of events.
Clearing his throat, he tugged on the hem of his t-shirt. “No, I must’ve butt-dialed you.” The lie slipped past his lips so smoothly he almost believed it himself.
Pause. “Well, that’s disappointing. Guess you’ll be on your way—”
“Wait!” Jimin mentally chided himself for being this desperate. “But I-I mean, since we’re already calling—” V laughed, Jimin cringed. “I mean, that’s only if you—”
“Chimchim, baby, I love your whining and begging. Might be my favorite so far. It’s so fucking high, especially when you’re so close to your orgasm. It gets me so hard, baby.”
Jimin felt his blood freeze, his heart stopping with V’s words, the huskiness of his voice. “D-Don’t say things like that,” Jimin leaned back against his headboard, squirming a little and fidgeting with the waistband of his boxers. “It makes me harder.”
“So you are already hard…”
“No—”
“I can help you out, you know.” Jimin could just imagine a smile toying on his lips.
He chewed his lip thoughtfully, “Do you have any customers tonight?”
“Not until later.” Shit. He was hoping that would be his out, his motivation to hang up on V and hopefully never call him again. “So what do you say, Chimchim? Up for a fun night?”
Oh, fuck it. Jimin quickly tugged off his bottoms and tossed them aside. His cock was already straining, standing and twitching. He didn’t realize how hard he was, how strung out he was until his fingers wrapped around his cock and the relief that spread through him was like a fire that lit up his entire being. “Yes.” He groaned, and reached for the bottle of lube with his free hand, popping the cap open and squirting a little to ease his hand’s slide on his cock. | d167ef747db942cf85d2662e9b16b95a | ['ab7ce81555724d0e90446b69cfd8ef64'] | “How’re you doing, Gukkie? Nervous?” Taehyung nudged his shoulder with his own. _ Yes, _ Jeongguk wanted to answer, _ but not because of school. _ Taehyung’s proximity allowed him to get a whiff of his aftershave, a little bit of mint, a little vanilla. It also didn’t help that Taehyung’s bare arm was brushing up against his own, heat radiating off his lean body. God, Jeongguk felt as if he was thirteen again, pressed up against Taehyung in bed with a flashlight, comic book tucked between the two. There was a warm fluttering in his heart that quickly dissipated when food arrived at the table and Minjae’s smiling face was above them.
Taehyung was quick to distance himself with pink on his cheeks as Minjae stared questioningly at the two. Jeongguk cleared his throat, deciding that the awkward atmosphere could only be solved with food. He reached for his burger only to have Taehyung grab it and hand it over to him. “I know you like this one.” And he was right.
They fall into easy conversation soon after. Thankfully (or not, Jeongguk wasn’t sure), Minjae was a pretty cool guy. His sense of humor matched theirs and he was nice about most things. The only thing that still bugged Jeongguk was that they looked at each other as if they had some sort of secret dancing between them. There were times Taehyung would say something and Minjae would shoot him a knowing look and Taehyung would just roll his eyes. Jeongguk wanted to be in on this secret. Taehyung didn’t keep secrets from him. Did he?
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Kims!” A booming voice greeted before two palms slammed themselves onto the table. _ The Kims _ . Jeongguk mentally repeated. “Good to see you two together.” The boy was loud and he was all smiles. Then his eyes wandered to the alien on the side. “You, I haven’t seen before. What’s your name? I’m Hoseok, Taehyung’s bestest friend ever.”
Taehyung scoffed at that and hooked an arm around Jeongguk’s neck. “Excuse you. This is my _ bestest _ friend ever, Jeon Jeongguk.”
His eyes lit up, sparkled even. Jeongguk didn’t know how someone with such a beautifully sharp jawline could look so fairy-like. If Jeongguk wasn’t so far up Taehyung’s ass, he might’ve been mesmerized. “Jeon Jeongguk? _ The _ Jeongguk? The one Taetae here never shuts up about?”
It was at least flattering to know that Taehyung talked about him. “Shut up, Hobi.” Taehyung grumbled. “But yes, this is my homeboy, my side hoe, Jeongguk.”
“Side hoe,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, offended. “I’d like to think I’m your main.”
“Once you fully settle in with me and we lose all our boundaries, then you’ll be my main hoe.” He winked with that infectious grin spread across his face. “You’re well on your way there.”
“Scoot over, Minjae.” Hoseok poked the younger on the shoulder. “Yoongi’s also here.”
“I would be surprised if he wasn’t,” Minjae noted with a smile. “You two are attached at the hip.”
“More like at the dick,” Taehyung snickered.
“Oy! We’re at the dining table and there is a baby present.” He gestured to Jeongguk who looked even more insulted, muttering that he was _ most definitely not a fucking baby _ . “Not to Taehyung for sure.” Hoseok grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, which earned him a fry to the nose.
Before Jeongguk could question his words further, a guy with dusty platinum hair plopped down next to Hoseok, elbowing him to move over with a grunt. “I’m fucking hungry. Did you order yet?”
“Yes, I did.” Hoseok beamed. His smile was different. Teasing, yes, but also affectionate. Jeongguk couldn’t help but note Hoseok’s arm slipping behind the boy’s back to wrap around his waist. He then turned to Jeongguk again, “Jeon-ah, this is Yoongi. My boyfriend, best friend, soulmate, other half, love of my life, the darkness to my sunshine.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi grumbled with an annoyed glare. “Hey, Jeongguk. Ignore this one. He’s a bit too loud. Especially at nine in the fucking morning when every normal person is dead asleep.”
“You sleep until two.”
“What’s your point?”
The four older boys entertained Jeongguk by discussing their antics thus far, including attempting to break into the campus mini market in search of snickers when they were drunk, as well as Taehyung and Hoseok climbing up the water pipe and managing to successfully reach the roof. Jeongguk laughed along, listening in and loving the atmosphere that quickly brightened the room. They were a good bunch of people, he knew. But he couldn’t help the feeling of being left out. He wasn’t a part of this group. Not yet, at least.
“What’s with the frown?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow, fingers catching Jeongguk’s underneath the table absentmindedly. Jeongguk hid his smile and shook his head, mumbling that it was nothing. Taehyung kept throwing worried glances at Jeongguk, touching his hand, his side, rubbing the back of his neck. The three across from them only shook their heads.
“Flirt in the bedroom please,” Hoseok fake-gagged.
“Fuck in the bedroom _ please _ ,” Taehyung countered.
“That was one time!” Hoseok snapped as Yoongi burst into metaphorical flames next to him. His boyfriend kept an arm tight around him to prevent him from banging his head against the table. “And you enjoyed it, don’t lie, Kim.”
“It was more traumatizing than pleasurable.” He stuck his tongue out before sighing. “Anyway, Gukkie, Hoseok here is a dancer. Runs his own dance studio even. You should pop by sometime, I know you like to dance.” Jeongguk’s eyes widened. How in the world— “Guk, I’ve been with you for forever, I know when the thumping upstairs is you dancing to AOA and not fucking.” |
6acb7525511848af92c50f308ff6c587 | ['ab7d31501efb4c669a9a46302ba2d1f3'] | "And truth be told I never was yours..."
But he knows it never will.
~~~
"Eren, we're on the radio!"
"Are we?"
"Yes! Come listen." Annie leaves the room, and Eren follows. On the radio in his music room, their revised, studio-recorded song plays.
"Who knew we'd get that far?" Annie asks. Eren notices her eyes begin to water as the chorus plays, so he grabs her chin and makes her look him in the eyes.
"Annie, I would never do that to you."
And with that, his lips are on hers.
And he finally knows what she meant when she wrote, "But they haven't seen the best of us yet."
'This is the beat of my heart,'
"How'd you know?" Annie asks.
"I could tell."
'The fear, the fear of falling apart.' | 5bcde32d203146df999814a5e3483127 | ['ab7d31501efb4c669a9a46302ba2d1f3'] | Skelly's Fabulous Crack Fics
Eren stood on top of Wall Rose, looking out to the sunset.
"Did you have that weird dream again?" Mikasa asks him.
"NO I DIDN'T MIKASA. I WASN'T EVER SLEEPING." He replies, forgetting to turn off caps lock.
"That's what the government wants you to think." Mikasa says, her red scarf blowing majestically in the wind. Suddenly Eren bites his hand and in his place stands the Rouge Titan. But this time it can...
Oh God....
"I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD EY! I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD EY!" The Rouge Titan yells loudly. Mikasa flips it off.
"YO ERENNNNNNN!!!!!" Armin decides to drop by. "HANJI WANTS TO SEE YOUUUUUUU!!!!"
"WHAT NOW!" The Rouge Titan yells.
"I DUNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Armin yells, falling off the wall with a splat.
"Uh, I think we need a new Armin!" Mikasa says, looking over the wall.
Suddenly a new Armin appears.
"O hai Armin." The Rouge Titan says.
"O hair Rouge Titan." New Armin greets.
Now the Rouge Titan falls to the ground and Eren climbs out, sporting a top hat, mustache, monocle, and tuxedo.
"Well, I am off to meet with Miss Hanji," he says, then bows. "Good day."
"BUT EREN! YOU MUST KISS ME GOODBYE!" Mikasa exclaims.
"That is gay, my dear Mikasa." Eren replies, walking away.
She groans. "AGHHHHHH I AM NOT A MALE BECAUSE OF MY MAN STRENGTH."
"That's what the government wants you to think." New Armin whispers to her. This time he is punched off the wall by Mikasa's amazing manstrength.
"NOOOOOOOOoooooooo~~!"
*To Be Continued*
DUN DUN DUNNNN |
fbb5363e669247f6b28b918ddfe8dfb0 | ['ab7f1be6a8cb4d02b6230b1f2de9da37'] | the only sound on the short journey there was the crunching snow and poorly contained chattering of teeth from both of them. when they arrived arthur put a steady hand on charles’ back and held him up as he got off to investigate. “I’ll only be a moment.” his hand left the small of the others back, squeezing his arm before he let go. he pulled a repeater from the horses saddle and set off toward the cabin.
one knock. two knock. nothing. “hello?” he called loudly over the sound of the howling wind. another knock. quiet. he tried the handle and was surprised to find it open, quickly but cautiously he went through each of the rooms and deemed them empty before sprinting back outside. “empty.” he breathed, charles said nothing which concerned him more than his usual silence. he grabbed two pelts from the back of the horse and wrapped them around his shoulders as he brought him down off the saddle. “come on inside while i check the barn.” he held the other tightly, bringing him into the house and standing him in front of the empty fireplace.
“I’ll be back, gotta make sure it’s all clear, okay?” nothing, again. it wasn’t like him to not offer help even if he couldn’t manage it, but arthur had to leave, had to check. with a lingering hand on him he sprinted back out, tutting for the horses to follow. “c’mon girls, to the barn!” and pulled out his gun again. the barn was empty, save some hay barrels and a broom, which he quickly tore apart and laid on the ground for them to eat and sleep among. the broom he took outside and shoved between the handles of the barn door so the wind wouldn’t catch it. beside the barn laid a wood pile and he quickly shoved as many as he could under his arms and ran back to the house.
when he got back in he shut and barred the door with a wardrobe then continued on in. it was much warmer inside without the chill of the wind and his skin began to burn as it warmed, he couldn’t imagine how charles’ felt. he found him again standing in the same spot he’d left him, a pool of water beginning at his feet.
“c'mon we gotta get you outta these.” arthur spoke urgently and made his way over, throwing down the wood next to the fireplace and a log or two inside. he ran through the house and grabbed some books he had seen on his initial check, ripping the pages from their spines and throwing them into the fireplace. the logs had gotten wet, they’d need a lot of help and he’d hope it would stick. his hands fumbling he found his matches in his coat and struggled for a moment to grab just one with shaking hands before he did and bared his teeth biting down to tug and strike the match between his teeth. he carefully turned a page over the flame until it was well lit then set it into the fire to light the rest.
after the fire took he stood up quickly and set himself in front of charles, carefully pulling apart his arms that had wrapped together in front of himself and peeled off his soaking coat before setting it by the fire. as he peeled the rest of his clothes off and set them by the fire the shaking had returned with a vengeance, teeth chattering unhindered. “shhh. it’s okay. we’re gonna get you warmed up.” he tugged the pelts tighter around him and placed his hands on the others bare upper arms and rubbed. skin to skin, while arthur had flared hot, charles had gotten cold as the ice itself.
“gotta share my warmth, that okay?” he asked as he peeled his own sodden clothes off, he always asked such questions even though he knew the answer. there wasn’t much modesty between them, they often shared same watch at camp, meaning they also shared the lake as they cleaned up before each day, among other things. charles nodded slowly and his feet became unstuck as he made his way over to arthur, “s-sorry s-so col-ld i-” he attempted to explain his silence and lack of help but arthur waved him off as soon as he started.
“not another word till you’re warmed up.” he said firmly but fondly, pulling the other to him and pulling one of the pelts from his shoulders and laying it on the ground not far from the fireplace. it didn’t take much convincing for charles to go down, arthur was almost sure instead his knees had given out and he caught him halfway, lowering him slowly. charles sat cross-legged, hunched forward in on himself toward the fire as arthur peeled the pelt from him and sat down behind him, pulling him against his chest and wrapping them both in the fur.
they sat in silence, slowly the fires crackling becoming louder than their chattering and the shaking had subsided. charles became more lively as he warmed and began shifting to get comfortable, sitting up straighter and stretching his frozen muscles. a barely audible wince caught arthur’s attention and his brows furrowed in concern. he sat back and brushed the long damp locks aside noticing that as the other had warmed and blood flowed, deep bruises had formed across the back of his shoulders where they had hit the ice. | 01f553407904488c87e69bfbbeb0b1ea | ['ab7f1be6a8cb4d02b6230b1f2de9da37'] |
frozen hunting grounds.
if you asked anyone in camp save pearson of course, who provided provisions for the camp - they would tell you arthur and charles. not a buffalo, deer, nor squirrel came through without being carried by either of them and more often than not, both of them.
of the two men, neither would eat before the rest and especially neither would eat without the other. among the camp seeing the two eating a portion of food between each other, silently fighting which would get the bigger half of the portion as arthur nudged the remainder of his meat to the other side and charles nudged the vegetables to his, wasn’t unusual.
what _was_ unusual was them coming home empty handed, again and again. day after day they trudged into camp, heads held low and slower than before, staying out longer and travelling farther. the others finished off the provisions yesterday and they became more desperate. it was just too cold. over the week a flash freeze had blown over and froze the lakes, covered the grass and tracks and chilled the inhabitants.
night had rolled in but neither had slept more than an hour, having fed themselves last the hunger pains had gotten to them first. the canvas of his tent cracked from the cold as he climbed out, finding charles already at a fire, warming himself as he carved out more arrows though they hadn’t used much of any lately. arthur lit himself a cigarette and took a drag, letting out a deep sigh, the smoke billowing before disappearing into the air.
“up already?” he asked playfully, knowing charles was up for the same reason he was. the other just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips regardless of their shared sour mood. arthur sat down next to him and took the task from his hands, trading it instead for his cigarette, it helped chase the hunger away. as he carved where charles had left off, they made eye contact and arthur knew. “you wanna go out, don’t ya?” charles gave him a thoughtful look and a curt nod. “we’re out of provisions. don’t wanna know what the others will be like when they wake up hungry.” he said simply but ironically and received a snort of laughter from the other, “good point. alright, let’s mount up, daylight should be soon.”
-x-
they packed up and rode for what felt like hours but the moon didn’t seem to move from its spot in the sky, illuminating the snow to a bright sheen that helped them navigate. “i’ve never seen deer stray this far.” charles remarked thoughtfully as he leaned over off his saddle to peer at the tracks, they always found them but they never seemed to end, earning a humm of agreement from atop the horse next to him.
soon after the sun peeked over the horizon but with it came wicked winds that blew the snow in a flurry around them. “should we turn back?” charles asked, almost yelling to be heard over the howling of the wind. “it should die down soon, we can try on foot for a bit, in the trees.” arthur responded and received a nod in return. they got off their horses and left them at the edge of the forest, the trees help divert off the wind so it didn’t cut to the core.
not long after a strong hand laid on his shoulder and pushed to which he went down willingly to crouch among the trees, “ _there._ ” a deep breath close to his ear, an arm through his peripheral vision pointing to a creature that was no more than a speck of dirt on the blinding white horizon. “deer. only one. must’ve got split off from the herd.” he nodded his agreement, shell of his ear brushing against the other from their close proximity.
“I’ll go left, cut it off. you stay here and give it your best shot.” charles reached to grab the rifle off arthur’s back, who minuvered himself to let the strap come off his chest and arm. “that’s a looong shot.” he remarked in reply, running a hand through his stiffening hair, he heard the bolt cock the other checked the chamber (as arthur’s usual - always loaded) and lock as it was loaded then pressed to his chest.
“you’ve got it. i know you do.” the hand returned to his shoulder and squeezed, there was a pressure as charles used it to stand then set off ahead. arthur watched his back as he left down the hill then sighed mumbling a small ‘i better’ under his breath as he moved his legs behind him to lay down. the snow crunched and packed under his weight as he shifted to a comfortable position, shoulders pushing the snow and squaring for him to lean forward. peering through the scope he watched charles descend the hill they were on until he was on flat ground.
the scope turned away from his partner and his breaths came slow as he followed the creature along. thankfully, it was moving slow, snout nuzzling through the snow attempting to find feed beneath. then slowly.. the air left his lungs, the scope stabilized. _one. two. three._ **bang**. the deer began to flail wildly as the bullet pierced its chest, legs running faster than its thoughts as it struggled for purchase then sprinted off, leaving a heavy dark crimson trail behind. it wouldn’t get far. |
bd42411d8c4a44959d12998907c5cc74 | ['ab834e61ec964e5683ae6aa0252a22eb'] | Thievery
Steve Rogers was a man prepared for anything. He always had exactly what was needed on hand, at that moment. He still carried a pocket knife, for goodness sakes. So it was odd for him, upon spending a weekend at Tony’s, to find he had no socks.
Of course, after the first search yielded little, he tried again. And again. Still nothing. All his socks had vanished.
“I know I packed some,” he said, eyes flicking around the room. It yielded nothing, until his eyes fell on Tony’s feet. ANd there they were, a pair of his running socks. “Tony, why are you wearing my socks?”
“Mmmmph,” was what he got. Then Tony’s head emerged from the blanket cocoon.”Good Morning to you too,” he grumbled. “What’s with the sock dilemma?”
“One of my missing sock pairs appears to be on your feet.”
Tony looked down. “Oh yeah, I borrow your socks all the time. You not noticed till now?”
“No, or I would have packed more. I seem to be out.”
“Bummer. Maybe just don’t go on your workout this morning. Stay here, in bed, with me.” His eyes flicked along his frame. “Especially if you keep those shorts on.”
Steve looked down at the running shorts he had packed, and blushed. They didn’t leave much to the imagination. “I need to get in my daily workout. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a workout. But it won’t be in those shorts, and it sure as hell won’t be quick.”
Steve smiled, and got even more red than before. Still, he bent down to give Tony a chaste kiss, and a whispered “Only if you stop stealing my socks.” Then he stole his socks back. | bed2b3ea3049460b92167ffcbd5962a5 | ['ab834e61ec964e5683ae6aa0252a22eb'] | Missing This, Missing You
Carlos had missed this. After months in the desert otherworld, he had missed this. Really, he had missed all of Cecil, but this. This had been one of the many things he had longed for. He may have even longed for this more than anyone else. Because this was the moment that was as close to perfect as Science could get.
The moment was warm. It was always warm here, in bed with Cecil. He was a warm man, never plagued with cold fingers, or toes. He was the perfect remedy for a cold morning like this one. The way almost every inch of him was wrapped around Carlos. Even his tentacles, out in the cold morning, all wrapped around his waist.
The tentacles always shifted as Cecil woke up. And it was always the same shifting. A slight squeeze, and Tentacle 1 trailing up farther, causing Carlos’ sleep shirt to ride up. Eventually he would feel Cecil’s nose rubbing against his neck. He would moan.
“Good morning, sleepy head” Carlos said, grinning.
“I missed you,” Cecil said, and kissed his neck.
Carlos laughed. “I missed you too. And moments like these.”
“It’s perfect right now, isn’t it?”
“As close to perfection as a moment in time can get. I wish we didn’t have to go to work today.”
“We could always just skip,” Cecil murmured. “We’ve earned it. The Mayor chained me to a chair, to keep me from fighting off a five headed dragon. With one of the heads that bought me at an auction. Besides, Dragon Fighting _is_ on the sick-leave form.”
“As much as I want to, Nightvale needs their news Cecil. You need to go into work, you’ve missed enough time already.”
“Alright,” he said, his hand moving . “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be a little late, right?”
“Oh absolutely” Carlos sighed. “We’ve more than earned it…”
* * *
Carlos dropped Cecil at the radio station an hour and a half after normal time. His hair was rumpled, and he couldn’t stop grinning. A few buttons on his shirt were askew. But he didn’t say anything, knowing that the interns were staring. He just filled his “Science is Sexy” mug at the coffee pot, and headed to his desk.
Carlos did the same. Eyes cast forward, and his “Welcome To Night Vale Community Radio (property of Cecil Palmer)” mug clutched in his hands. As he sat at his desk, and turned on the radio, his phone pinged.
_Just starting the show, miss you already!_
_I’m looking forward to hearing your voice out of my radio as I do science. Love and miss you too._ |
89d64ca937c247258d4b1d4f761be2b5 | ['ab91c7dd2b734fb5801744cfb4b3e9b9'] | The team forms up as a gladiator drops from the ceiling, bayards flashing into shape. And… it goes okay. The armor on Altean tech is tough and even Lance and Hunk’s bayards need to get in a couple successive hits to punch through it, so the two of them draw the gladiator’s attention with some glancing blows while Pidge sneaks around behind it. Allura’s whip lashes around its legs, locking it in place, and Pidge leaps up and cuts through the more vulnerable, flexible material at its neck. It drops like a stone and then disappears through the floor as soon as Pidge has climbed off and gotten out of the way.
Ro nods to all of them in approval and gestures for them to get back in formation. “Good. Let’s ramp it up, level three.”
Three gladiators drop this time, two with staffs and the other a whip, the combination of close and mid-range weaponry meaning they’re going to have to work as a tighter unit to take them down.
Two of them go straight for Pidge, the smallest target, and the others rally around her. Allura locks whip with a gladiator’s staff while Pidge tries to find an opening, and Lance and Hunk fend off the gladiator wielding the whip. Ro’s left facing the third on his own. Normally he’d have it taken down in seconds and rushed over to help the team, but this one keeps dancing out of his reach and lunging for the others. It’s all Ro can do to block its attacks before it runs off again, struggling to keep up.
It all goes downhill fast when the gladiator charges at Hunk from behind. Ro leaps forward to take care of it, but Hunk sees him out of the corner of his eye and jerks in surprise, almost smacking Ro in the head with his cannon. Ro’s so busy dodging him that he loses track of the gladiator.
Pidge calls out “Shiro, get down!” and he ducks on instinct. He sees her flinch the moment the words are out of her mouth and another gladiator smashes its staff into her chest plate while she’s distracted, sending her flying.
“End training sequence!” Ro shouts, rushing over to her. “You okay?” he asks, crouching down and holding a hand out.
Pidge stares at it for a moment, and then glances up at him, expression equal parts embarrassed and wary. “I’m fine, Ro,” she says, a subtle, but unmistakable pause just before his name. She pushes herself up to her feet with a low groan. “I can keep going.”
Ro wrestles with himself for a moment before pushing aside the mess of emotions over Pidge’s mix-up and subsequent reaction to it in lieu of concern for her physical well-being. She hit the wall pretty hard, she’s gotta have some nasty bruises at the very least, and maybe a concussion. “You sure?” he asks.
She nods, and Ro decides not to push it. Pidge is the most stubborn person he’s ever met and she’s already tense, prickly.
“Alright,” he concedes, and then turns back to the others. “How about we try that level again?”
He calls out for the computer to restart the same round from the beginning. The three gladiators are more mobile this time, weaving through the team and darting in and out, attacking at random. Ro’s gaze is flitting everywhere at once, working frantically to figure out the pattern.
And then everything snags when he _ watches _ Allura tag a gladiator running right past her toward himself and Lance — easily within reach of her whip — and then purposefully ignore it, turning away to lash at one of the others.
Ro lunges, just barely intercepting in time to block the staff hurtling down toward Lance’s head. He’s just not quick enough to protect his _ own _ head. The staff smashes into him and he drops, knees buckling under the force.
Lance cries out in dismay, whipping his rifle around and taking out the gladiator even as he shouts “End training sequence!”
Ro groans, blinking rapidly to clear the stars from his eyes as Lance crouches down and starts probing at his head.
“Fuck, Ro, you okay?”
“Yeah, think so. Just hurt like a bitch.”
Lance’s answering chuckle is strained, but his smile of relief is genuine. If Ro didn’t feel so woozy from the hit, he’d probably be feeling woozy just from Lance being so close and smiling like that, especially since he’s been distant for days.
Lance pushes up from the floor, offering a hand to pull Ro up beside him and holding on until he’s sure Ro is steady. And then he rounds on Allura, expression furious. “What the quiznak was that, Princess?”
Allura frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Bull _ shit _ , you don’t know,” Lance spits. “That gladiator had to have gone right past you to get to us and when I turned around you were taking out the one Pidge was _ already handling _ . So what the hell happened?”
“I made a snap judgment,” Allura says, eyes narrowing. “I saw Ro tracking its movements and I trusted he had the situation under control.”
Lance scoffs. “Right, and you would have ‘trusted’ all the rest of us with that responsibility, too, rather than eliminating the threat while you had the chance to do it yourself, would you?”
“Lance,” Ro cuts in, quiet and calm, but firm. “Don’t.”
Lance turns to him with a glare. “You _ know _ she let it go by on purpose, there’s no other explanation.” He rounds back on Allura, gaze burning. “Well, Princess? Did he pass your little test? Is that bruise on his head enough to convince you that he’s on our side? Since apparently the dozens of other times he’s done something just like this in the last six months weren’t enough!” | e21919648a324dbb8e30b5027b894974 | ['ab91c7dd2b734fb5801744cfb4b3e9b9'] | Booted feet appear in front of him and he flinches, curling in on himself as if that will make the figure go away, will make him disappear, will make him pretend this isn’t happening. He knows this conversation has to happen, that everything has to change, but he needs more _time_ , needs to be able to _breathe_ , needs his vision to stop blurring in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he sobs.
“What are you sorry for?” Shiro asks.
Lance shakes his head; is he really gonna make him say it? “That it’s _me_ ,” Lance says. “That it wasn’t someone stronger, more worthy. I- You were stuck with them for a _year_ and I couldn’t do _anything_ and maybe someone else could have, someone else could have saved you, but I-”
A calloused hand cups his chin and tilts his face up and Lance squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking from under the closed lids. Shiro thumbs at them, wiping them away with a gentleness that makes Lance’s breath hitch in his chest. “You can’t blame yourself for something like that,” Shiro says. “You didn’t even know it was _me_. And if you had, how would you have gotten to me from halfway across the universe? How would _anyone_?”
He’s right, of course he’s right, but that doesn’t stop Lance’s heart from aching, his mind from screaming at him that he should have done more, should be better. Should be _more_.
Shiro cups his hands around Lance’s ears, thumbs still stroking oh so gently over his cheeks. “Hey, come on,” he says. “Look at me?”
It’s hard, it’s so hard, but Lance would do anything for Shiro, would confront his greatest nightmares and more. So slowly, cautiously, he peels his eyes open and looks up at Shiro’s face.
“There you are,” Shiro says, soft, fond.
And Lance sucks in a breath, overwhelmed. He has never seen Shiro smile quite like this before, like he’s trying to compete with a goddamn sun.
“Lance-“ he stops, laughs. Shakes his head like he can’t believe what’s happening but like he’s fucking _happy_ about it. “Lance there probably isn’t anything I can say to convince you that I’m not upset. I know how you get. So let me show you.”
Lance’s brow furrows in confusion. “Show me?”
“Yeah,” Shiro nods, still smiling. “We don’t know each other well yet, I know that. But I know that you miss your family terribly and yet you still make sure all the rest of us aren’t feeling lonely. And I know that you can focus on making a perfect shot even when a mission is going to shit around you. And that you work twice as hard as everyone else at everything you do because you’re determined not to fail, not to make mistakes, not to let anyone get hurt. And-” Shiro pauses, gaze lowering for a moment before he looks back up, a little shy and a lot determined. “And I _want_ to know everything about you. How you learned to fly and why you love the water and how you got _your_ scars, all the ones before we met, and what your favorite food is and where you go when you’re happy or sad or angry. Everything.”
Lance is shaking, lips quivering as he keeps crying and his heart pounds in his chest. This can’t be real, there’s no way.
Shiro’s smile goes soft and a little sad and he traces a finger across the scar on Lance’s nose, a mirror to his own face. “These scars say your my _soulmate_ ,” he says. “Give me the chance to prove that I’m not upset about that, that I’m happy it’s _you_ because you’re _perfect_ for me. The universe says so, Lance. You can’t argue with the universe.”
Lance laughs, he can’t help it. Shiro’s eyes are sparkling with mirth and he made a freaking _joke_ , Shiro never makes jokes, but he made one for Lance and he _wants_ to be Lance’s soulmate, wants to explore this mystical, fated _thing_ between them, and when has Lance ever been able to say no to Shiro? “Okay,” he says, nodding. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” Shiro asks, face brightening.
Lance works up a smile, watery and shaky, but it must be good enough because Shiro’s answering smile is _dazzling_. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on LINK. I take prompts! |
39abf4ad442b49d390f2bb433e026f3e | ['abac5f5f302c4058978268a35555da7e'] | These sweet moments
**Author's Note:**
> I'm not even really into this ship, but some self righteous dick hole kept telling people to die for shipping this, so here I am.
> I hope the people who do ship it enjoy my work though
Rouxls's nerves were on edge as he made his way down the grand hall toward the Kings chambers.
It had been quite some time since he's visited his King.
Even longer since the King has invited him.
Rouxls came to a halt in front of the grand doors of the Kings bed chambers.
He took a deep breath to calm his fluttering heart, his King has been rather quiet since the Knight was defeated.
He knew the King was horrified at what he'd done, he was not a bad man, not in the least.
But…that didn't change what be did, Rouxls knew that, and yet, he remembered all those sweet moments with his King, and with the Knight gone there would be many more.
Maybe Lancer would get to know the real King, his real father.
Rouxls let that warm feeling spread through his body, and let out the breath he was holding.
Not wasting anymore time, Rouxls opened the large ornate doors, and was greeted by a lovely, soft melody.
He looked around the large room, and did not see the King. Slowly he walked toward the small box playing the soft tune.
Rouxls hummed along as he traced a swirling pattern on the music box with one slender finger.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Rouxls jumped, and let out an undignified squawk as he quickly turned around.
Rouxls hurriedly answered, “Ah, yes ist is, it's the one you used to play for Lancer right?”
A somber smile graced the Kings features, “Yes, my dear Rouxls, it is.”
Rouxls blushed at the pet name his King used to use so often, it felt so foreign now, but not any less pleasant.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the King took a few steps, and stood in front of him.
The King took Rouxls slender hand in his own great palm, Rouxls watched him as he brought Rouxls's cool palm to press against his warm face.
“My dear Rouxls, I've missed you very much.”, The Kings deep voice seemed to fill the room, Rouxls hid his blushing face in his other hand as he replied.
“I have miste thou as well Sire,” Rouxls looked up as the King walked away, curious eyes watching him wind the box back up.
He hadn't even noticed that it had stopped.
The King turned around, a nervous smile across his features.
“Would you honor me with a dance, dear Rouxls?”, A smile split across Rouxls's face at the shaky question. His Sire was so cute sometimes.
“Of course mine King nothing wouldst make me happier.”, With the invitation the King walked forward, and took Rouxls's hand in his own.
The King gently pulled Rouxls toward himself, and placed one great arm around Rouxls's slight waist, and placed a slender palm a top his broad shoulder.
The King hummed along to the melodic tune, gently swaying himself and Rouxls to the music.
Rouxls buried his face into the Kings chest as he was coaxed into a waltz.
One, two, three
They fell back into a familiar rhythm, they used to dance like this for hours on end. Just holding each other.
Soon, far too soon for Rouxls's taste, the music stopped, and they pulled away from each other.
The King held onto Rouxls's hands though, a thoughtful look upon his face.
“Mine King? Ist somethinge troubling thou?”, Rouxls inquiried, concern lacing his words.
The King leant forward, pressing his forehead against Rouxls's, he stared at the Kings close eyes as a blush warmed his usually cold skin.
“Rouxls”, the King spoke his name with such gentleness, “May I kiss you?”
Rouxls thought for a moment that he may faint, as his words failed him Rouxls gave a shaky nod to the King, to indicate his consent.
The King face a large smile, one Rouxls hasn't seen in a long while, and leant forward.
A large palm gently cupped Rouxls's face as the Kings warm breath ghosted over his lips, and the King pressed forward.
Rouxls melted, wrapping his arms around the Kings neck he boldly deepened the kiss, pulling the King closer.
The King made a surprised noise, but he recuperated with equal enthusiasm.
After a few wandering hands, and hurried kisses they broke apart. Lightly panting from their impromptu make out.
The King guided Rouxls to his bed, they both lay in the plush bedding just holding each other.
Rouxls ran one cool hand up his Kings side, and placed it on his cheek. Rouxls placed a few chaste kisses upon his Kings face.
Warmth filled Rouxls's heart as his King let out a contented purr.
The King pulled Rouxls close wrapping him in his body, the King held him in his great arms.
Rouxls eyes began to weigh heavy with sleep, he snuggled closer to his King, who already was snoring.
Yes, this would work, it would take time, and patience, but his sweet King was back, and they all would be a happy family again.
With that thought in mind, Rouxls fell into a peaceful slumber, in the arms of his King. | 4199ddb126e04eb8b85ca1510aec3dc0 | ['abac5f5f302c4058978268a35555da7e'] | He continued this for a while, messaging Momo about odds and ends, did he miss anything, when was he thinking about bringing Purple Dark Boy off of hiatus. Just idle conversation for the most part.
Mineta eventually told her goodnight. He rolled over, gently rocking himself as he stared at the darkened clouds in the sky. When had it started to rain?
Finally, sleep won as his eyes drooped shut from exhaustion. His soft snores filled the room, accompanied by the sound of rain against the window.
Mineta shivered and turned over in his sleep, Kurogiri’s card fell out of his pocket.
As soon as it touched the ground, it crumpled to dust, an airy laugh sounded, then silence.
2. Meeting new friends!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For reference Mineta is 23-24, and I forgot to give credit to @TheLovelyFlebebeDiamond for being my beta. Thank you for reading 💗
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Mineta’s face, he scrunched up his face and turned over as he tried to hold onto that last little bit of sweet unconsciousness.
He sighed, now fully awake, and felt around his body and grabbed his phone, cracking open an eye to check the time.
Mineta groaned and shoved his face into his pillow when he saw the time, it was already noon.
He cursed as his stomach grumbled, he didn't want to move, but his body demanded food right here and now.
Mineta rolled and fell onto the floor with a thump. A plume of dust hit him in the face and he started to hack.
“Fuck, ugh, I really need to clean this room….”, Mineta mumbled under his breath as he dusted himself off.
Mineta made his way downstairs his mind still muddled from sleep, he went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge.
He stood in front of the fridge and an embarrassing amount of time before his brain caught up with his eyes revealed that it was empty.
He slammed the door shut with a groan and pressed his forehead against the cool metal. He had to interact with people now. Not what he had planned today.
Mineta turned and headed up to his room to change. He grabbed a light blue sweater and pulled it on with his jeans.
He made his way back downstairs, pocketed his keys and slipped on his sandals making his way out to his car.
_________________
About twenty minutes later Mineta reached town, he slowed, checking out the places. He could go into the grocery store, but…he flinched as his stomach curled from hunger again, something more immediate was needed.
A restaurant caught his eye,“King Explosions”, Mineta shrugged, he didn't really care what it was, as long as he got something inside of himself, and soon.
Mineta parked his car in front and hopped out, shut the door with his foot, and walked toward the entrance as he pulled his hair back into a pin to look more presentable.
He opened the door, the bell above ringing to alert the employees to his arrival, the smell of the food instantly making him drool. Mineta walked in farther glad that there wasn't any other customers.
He pulled himself onto a bar stool and took in the place while he waited for someone to come take his order.
After a few moments a young woman with bright pink hair bounded out from the kitchen holding a small notepad, a huge, welcoming smile on her face.
She handed him a menu and introduced herself as he scanned the menu, and used it to hide his blushing face. She was way too cute.
“Hiya! Welcome to King Explosions, my names Mina and I'll be taking your order,” her tone was cheerful and welcoming, it put him at ease.
“Ah, well, um, do you guys do take out?,” he asked as he flinched at his own awkward tone, how embarrassing.
Mina smiled, if she noticed she didn't say anything, which Mineta was grateful for.
“Yes we do! And, hey, are you new here?” Mina inquired, with a smile that said she already knew the answer.
Mineta fidgeted with the menu, was he really that obvious? It wasn't a big town, he should've known a new resident would be noticed fairly quickly.
“Yeah, I just moved here, getting a start on my life, ya'know,” Mineta replied, handing the menu back to Mina, “And, um, some taiyaki with chocolate filling to go, please.” He knew his only meal all day really shouldn't be sweets, but he decided to indulge a little.
Mina nodded in affirmation, smiling, “Okay your food will be done soon.” She headed back into the kitchen to give his order to the chef.
Mineta sat there fiddling with his phone as he waited for his food, his peace didn't last long though. He heard the bell above the door ring as it was opened, he turned to see three men walk into the restaurant.
They noticed him and they all smiled, then came over to greet him. The lanky man with long black hair and a crooked smile spoke first.
“Hey, I haven't seen you around here before, you new?” Mineta nodded awkwardly to his question, not entirely sure how to answer. The man held out his hand, “Well it's nice to meet ya! The names Sero, and these guys are Denki,” Sero pointed to the blonde who gave him a thumbs up, and a charming smile. Mineta blushed at the man's goofy demeanor as Sero continued, “And this guy is Eijiro.”Sero pointed at the, frankly, giant redhead his sharp teeth gleamed as he gave Mineta a huge smile, Sero leaned in and whispered, “Don't worry he's not as scary as he looks.”
Eijiro huffed in indignation at the comment insisting he didn't look scary, Denki and Sero laughing at his complaints.
Mineta’s attention was averted, as he saw Mina follow a blonde man out the kitchen. Mineta shrank back a little, the guy looked pissed. |
abf5145aa4be4eefb8c67d6703079490 | ['abb3ada378194bd7960b617bbdd0d2fd'] | After returning a melancholy wave and making the trip back to the Raven camp, he did not see Torak's father for many summers. He kept the raven's beak necklace he'd given him on a string around his neck until the day he found out he was a Soul Eater, and that now lies somewhere at the bottom of the Widewater.
Over time, the pain of missing him faded. He was left with pleasant memories of warm touches, innocent and curious, kinship and a fierce loyalty to one another. But a new passion began to take him over, and that was becoming Clan Leader. Tirelessly he worked to become the bravest, the strongest, the wisest. Little by little, he left Torak's father behind.
Then the Clan Meet. He was too busy researching the other Clans and how to gain their respect to remember that Torak's father and Tenris would be there. When they arrived at the water's edge, there was no mistaking the group with dotted tattoos on their cheekbones, and strange yellow irises.
Sure enough, he was among them, and acting as Mage. This gave him joy to see, but also trepidation.
They locked eyes. Torak's father did not smile, nor did he frown. He only held his gaze for a second, then turned around, a new blue-flint knife hanging from his belt.
Fin-Kedinn felt there must have been a message hidden in that look, but he was no Mage, and he could not find it.
The Healers were a central part of the Clan meet. Proposing an exciting new alliance of Mages who would work to keep all the Clans healthy and safe from demons, not just their own.
Fin-Kedinn's heart twisted when he saw the woman. An emotion so bleakly wrought with evil swelled inside his chest till he thought it would tear its way out and claw her to pieces.
Jealousy.
The Red Deer woman Torak's father had dismissed many summers ago was now his mate. And she was walking towards him with a gentle smile as though she knew him.
Fin-Kedinn gritted his teeth, unable to hide his contempt.
"You are Fin-Kedinn."
Her tone wasn't questioning. It was wry. He nodded shortly. It took all his strength to put both fists over his chest in the sign of friendship and accept her doing the same. She looked like she knew too much. Would the Wolf Mage have told her what had happened? He hoped not.
"My mate wishes to speak with you," she said. Her voice was quiet, a little rough as though her throat had been scraped by bark.
"Why couldn't he have told me that?" he couldn't help but snap.
The woman smiled. "Because he doesn't know that he wishes to speak with you yet."
Fin-Kedinn stared at her.
[](https://imgur.com/rX49yrc)
He left the Ravens for a while and spent the night meeting the Wolf Clan, catching up with all his old friends.
"I could see you as the Raven Leader," Maheegun agreed slowly, expression serious. Then his face broke into a warm smile. "It's good to see you again."
He sat with the Red Deer woman and ate some salmon stew with her. They didn't speak. He had many questions but his pride and bitter jealousy stitched his mouth shut. Together, they watched the Wolf Mage and the rest of the Healers stopping by to introduce them to all the other Clans. There were six of them. He recognised Wolf, Otter, Eagle Owl, Bat, Oak Clan tattoos, and narrowed his eyes when he saw that Seshru had rid herself of her Raven Clan marks and made Viper ones instead.
"That woman," the Wolf Mage's mate said, looking at him closely. "You know her."
"Yes."
He didn't want to talk about it. Seshru's betrayal had shaken the Clan, and he'd heard whispers, but he hadn't realised this was where she had ended up. A Healer.
He found himself gazing at the Seal Clan, camped closest to the water's edge. He looked absently at first, then his gaze sharpened as he noticed Tenris wasn't there. That meant he had not been named Seal Mage, and grimly, Fin-Kedinn thought that he wouldn't have been very happy with that, especially as his brother had been named the Wolf Mage.
The Healers returned to their Clans and Fin-Kedinn couldn't help but ask, "Where's Tenris?"
The Wolf Mage sighed. "... He was devastated when he wasn't named Seal Mage. I've asked him to join the Healers instead."
"And has he?"
"He's thinking about it."
As they sat and talked, they fell into the natural, familiar banter they'd always had. Fin-Kedinn tried to stop himself from leaning closer, or putting an arm round the other man's shoulder. He felt a little of the old heartbreak return and was glad of the distraction when the Eagle Owl woman approached them.
"I know who you are," she smiled.
To this day, Fin-Kedinn will maintain that he has no capacity for Magecraft. But the bolt of dismal terror that shot through him when he looked into Eostra's cold eyes felt like a premonition. He wanted to stand up and scream. _Do not trust this woman!_ But he was frozen in place, and her smile grew wider until it threatened to split open her face.
"The Wolf Mage is always talking about you," she said. "You know... my friend this, Fin-Kedinn that."
Fin-Kedinn, not for the first time, _cursed_ his complexion for allowing him to turn red so easily. He vowed from that day on he'd never be so caught off guard. He forced himself not to glance over at Torak's father, instead, he said, "We were very close. I hope the Healers are such a benefit to the Clans as you say they will be."
Her smile disappeared. "Yes, as do I."
When she drifted away, the Raven man felt the weight of a heavy gaze upon him.
"Excuse me," the Wolf Mage muttered, standing up and going after the Eagle Owl woman. | d00eefcdc628452a972099ce1c9475c0 | ['abb3ada378194bd7960b617bbdd0d2fd'] | "Oh, you promise, Dondarrion?" Sandor shakes his head. _Ah, fuck it,_ he thinks. "Fine."
Beric takes the rest of his clothes off and drags Sandor down into the dirt with him. The torches on the round tower walls aren't enough to keep them warm in the winter night and he shivers. "Spit on your fingers. Try and be gentle," he instructs. Sandor obeys, grimacing, in admiration of Beric's shamelessness. He presses his spit-slicked fingers to the cleft of the man's arse and rubs them at his rim.
"Good," Beric breathes. "Keep... adding spit. One finger at a time. After three, you can put it in."
Sandor is concentrating hard on the task. His prick softens a little. This is just strange, taboo, unnatural... there's a long list of words he could use, but they all seem to disappear from his mind when Beric starts panting softly when he spits and adds a second finger.
It's quiet. In this room, only the crackle of the flickering torches and Beric's breathing can be heard, but outside, the low rumble of voices. Soldiers gathering for the final battle. The two of them, cocooned up here in a safe little bubble, taking solace in each other before they're led to the death.
He spits again and adds a third finger, feeling Beric's arse is stretched tight. The man gasps and winces. Sandor stops for a second, then keeps going when Beric makes an impatient gesture.
His cock hardens again as he thinks of how tight it's going to be.
"Come on, Clegane," Beric croaks.
He withdraws his fingers and Beric sighs raggedly. He positions himself, prick nudging at Beric's hole, wondering how he's going to fit without hurting him. He spreads more slick over his cock and pushes the head inside slowly going further.
Beric jams his knuckles into his mouth.
"I don't want to hurt you," Sandor mutters angrily. Beric doesn't answer for a second, breathing harshly.
"It's alright," he says, opening his eye and looking directly at the Hound who looms over him as he's pressed into the ground. "I'll be alright."
Sandor grits his teeth. The pressure around his cock is maddening. It twitches inside Beric's arse but he forces himself to stay still. "How are you enjoying this?" he asks, almost berating him for letting him do this. He does wonder, though. A cunt is made to stretch for a cock, but an arse is not.
"It gets better," Beric says wryly. "Keep going."
He does. He pushes in deeper, holding his breath, till he bottoms out and lets it go in a sharp exhale.
"Good?"
"Fuck. Yes, it is," Sandor admits, and Beric grins against the pain.
He pulls back and pushes back in, steadily building up a rhythm, trying not to go too hard and injure Beric. But his restraint only gets him so far, and Beric's bitten off moans and scrabbling fingertips at his shoulders spur him on to go faster. It's hot and tight, milking him for all he's worth and in the mix of lust and bewilderment he also feels a fervent gratitude. _I'm glad you let me do this._
The pleasure keeps building, surrounding him as he rocks into Beric harder and harder. Taking pity, he moves to kneel so he has a hand free to wrap around Beric's neglected prick, coaxing it back to hardness as he ruts into him. The other man slings an arm round his neck, drawing him closer.
"I'm going to come," Sandor tells him roughly. "Do you-"
"N-no, go on," Beric grits out. "Do it."
His thrusts become less rhythmic, hips stuttering a little as he loses control and gives in to the feeling. Beric knots his fingers in his hair and kisses him, and _trust_ the conniving little bastard to break his only rule, but he doesn't give a shit at this point and happily returns the kiss, albeit messily. By the end, they're just panting into each other's mouths, and Sandor diverts to bite into Beric's shoulder to muffle a cry as he comes, spilling inside him.
He slows, well aware Beric hasn't come yet, but taking a few seconds to recover. He doesn't want to lay all his weight down onto the other man but sweat is cooling on his skin and he starts to feel cold. He gently pulls out, his softening cock smeared with a little blood, and watches his come drip out of Beric's hole.
Normally, he'd feel like shit. He doesn't make a habit of fucking friends, and _never_ male friends- not that he has so many- but it usually feels like the worst crime he's ever committed and he just wants to get away. Right now, it's a mix of careless _who-cares-we're-dead-soon_ hysteria and deathly calm.
Beric starts to gather himself up, avoiding eye contact, but Sandor grabs him, maybe a little rougher than necessary.
"Sit down, you're not finished," he orders gruffly. He pulls Beric so his back is against his chest and curls one arm around his middle, pinning him in place. The other hand goes to tug at his still-hard cock, weeping pre-come and desperate for touch. To which he obliges, grip mercifully tight and pace fast.
"Fuck," Beric hisses, and comes without warning, coating Sandor's hand in white fluid. He wrinkles his nose and wipes his hand on Beric's undershirt, the owner of which is too tired to object.
They stay like that for some time, warming each other up in some sort of nancy cuddle. Sandor wants to roll his eyes, but then he lets himself have this one little thing. He likes the smell of Beric's hair, like ash and smoke.
"I'm sorry I kissed you," Beric remarks, tilting his head up as it rests on Sandor's shoulder.
"I knew you couldn't resist," he replies dryly.
Beric twists in his arms to kiss him again. Sandor squeezes his throat in warning, but kisses him back anyway.
"Right," he says brusquely, knowing it's going to go too far and he might never leave this fucking tower. "Now we've got that out of our systems, we've got a war to win. Get off the floor and clean yourself up."
Beric disentangles himself and starts putting his clothes back on, with a wince that Sandor picks up on. He doesn't comment. This was Beric's choice, and he intitiated it. Although he still feels a little guilty about hurting him. Or was that what pansy sex is always like?
He sighs. They'll both need a wash after that mess. They leave the tower and Sandor stops to pick up the wineskin he'd left earlier, downing its contents then chucking it to Beric, who doesn't even bother to check if there's anything left, doing that fond, indulgent smile instead.
They'll be alright. |
cae69457c8a948c0ab1fe41252283da2 | ['abcc74ddd8e9431bae802832340445b6'] | “What you intended or not is of no concern. Your henchmen lost their nerve. Who would have thought that von Eyssen would shoot his wife and himself, in front of his children?" Dorian took over. “It must have unnerved your men. They searched the house and did not find a thing, which unnerved them even more. – And you must have heard that only the remains of two bodies were found in the ruins of the von Eyssen house.”
“They told me the girl and the boy had not known anything, so they killed them before they set fire to the house.” the Burgomaster said. He began to realise that more things must have gone wrong than the hired killers had told him. He thought it had all been settled when he had paid another man to dispose of the three men and to bring him proof of having fulfilled his task. “What could the police probably have found in the ruins? How could they say they found two bodies instead of four? The body of a small child –“
He stopped, frightened from the look in the Major’s eyes.
“The small child had to watch his father shoot his mother, then kill himself. He had to watch his sister being raped by several men. And one of these bastards had a weak spot for small boys.”
“What? How -? I do not know what you mean!”
“The von Eyssen children were not dead when your henchmen set fire to the place. They were locked in the cellar.” the Major continued, his face and eyes grim. “They managed to escape from the fire and found people who cared for them.”
“My God! So they are still alive?”
The Major did not bother to answer.
“You have five daughters and a wife.” Dorian said. “How would you feel if something like this happened to them?”
“Are you threatening me?” the Burgomaster managed.
Dorian laughed. It was a short, sharp, bitter laugh.
“We have what we came for.” the Major said. “No one will learn about the things we just told you, if you’ll keep quiet in turn. Then no one will harm you or your family.”
“How can I be sure about that?” the Burgomaster’s voice was a mere whisper.
“You’ll have to take our word for it.” Dorian answered. “But we really should all go back to the ballroom now. Your guests and your wife might be wondering where you are.”
The Burgomaster might be a cruel and ruthless man, but only as long as his money, his influence and his office protected him. True, he had sent the men to force the secret from the inventor, taking into account that they would threaten to hurt von Eyssen’s wife or daughter. He had counted on von Eyssen giving up the plans quickly, seeing his family in danger. He had never intended anyone to die, but hearing that the whole family had been killed, he had taken it in his stride. More important was that his henchmen had not found the plans. He had concentrated on finding them, had taken up a rat race with some members of the mob, who were after the plans as well. He had followed the same line of thought as Dog Man later, but he as well had found the portrait stolen. He found out that the two Frenchmen had the canvas. Organised crime was faster. They killed one Frenchman, as he had found out, and he had the other one killed, before the man could leave for Europe with the canvas and one page of the plans. He had never thought that his machinations would be found out. But these two men, whatever they were – Government agents, members of a criminal organisation – had him in a trap.
He slowly retreated, his eyes assessing the Earl, then the Major. He licked his lips.
“You don’t have all of the plans.”
Neither of the two men affirmed his statement.
“If I give you everything I have of von Eyssen’s plans, will you spare my family?”
“You have heard our answer.” The Major said.
“Very well.” Van Rijn pressed a panel on the wall, revealing a small compartment. He took out an envelope.
“Another page of the plans.”
The Major’s expression revealed nothing, when he looked briefly at the paper and then pocketed the envelope, but he knew that Colonel Latour’s death had been Van Rijn’s doing as well. How easy – having people killed and never moving a finger. He felt a deep contempt for the man’s hypocrisy. Well, his machinations would be over.
Shaken, the Burgomaster went back to the ballroom, barely maintaining his dignity and joviality as a mask for his guests. He explained his absence and his worried appearance with his mother’s illness, and the festivity ended soon. The Major and the Earl took their leave from their hosts and the other guests as quickly as their good manners allowed them, the canvas hidden safely in Lord Gloria’s flowing cape.
New York, Constable Hardenberg’s House, Same Night
They met again at Hardenberg’s house, and Dorian briefly informed the others about his encounter with the blind old lady and the man with the eyepatch. The Major reported how they had confronted the Burgomaster.
“And he gave in that quickly?” Detective Crane seemed surprised. “He must be more of a coward than I thought.”
“He is a cold man, but his mask of respectability seems to be very important to him.” Lord Gloria said. “He seemed shocked about hearing what happened to the von Eyssen children. But I think his biggest concern is that no one will learn the truth about his role in the tragedy.”
“He seems to have underestimated how many parties have an interest in these plans.” the Major added. “The whole affair went out of hand very quickly.” | c254fb0af76f4d70b1798abe97252e03 | ['abcc74ddd8e9431bae802832340445b6'] | “Today, just when Dorian was there, a small rolling ‘ouse came along, a few ‘umans got out, looked around and grabbed one of the pigs feedin’ there, ‘Enry. It ‘appened all so very fast! Dorian charged at the ‘umans, ‘Enry ran away, and they grabbed Dorian instead, shoved ‘im into the rollin’ ‘ouse and went off wiv ‘im! It ‘appened all so very fast!”
//That idiot!//
“Do you know where they took him?” Klaus asked.
“I thought the rollin’ ‘ouse would go along the road, so I took a shortcut through the forest. It’s not far. They took ‘im to an old ‘ouse and put ‘im into a smaller ‘ouse for animals. Then they left again. I looked around and I found – I found –“
“What?!” growled Klaus, when the stout boar paused again and swallowed.
“I found another small ‘ouse. It smelled of blood. Another poor pig must’ve lived there. But now ‘e was dead. Found ‘im angin’ – in two ‘alves –“
A few sows and young squealed in horror. Klaus cursed.
The stout domestic boar swallowed again.
“I tried to get Dorian out, but ‘e’s locked in tightly! ‘Elp me, Big Boar Klaus! ‘Elp me free Dorian!”
Klaus did not hesitate. “Very well,” he ordered. “Show the way! – And I do not want any other of you pink idiots running around!”
“I didn’t tell the others yet, I came straight ‘ere!”
“Very well,” Klaus repeated, and gave the stout boar a grim look, adding in a low voice, so only the domestic boar could hear him: “If this is one of the pink idiot’s tricks, I’ll have his hide!”
“Believe me, Big Boar, that’s no trick!” Bonham answered. “I’m not in the mood to play tricks!”
“We’ll see,” Klaus said.
He went to fetch the human-stick from its hiding place.
The domestic pig led Klaus, Achilles, Boris, and Zoltan through the forest, and yes, soon enough a small house came into view, almost hidden among the trees, and two smaller houses stood behind the biggest one.
There also was the rolling house in which, according to Bonham’s story, the humans had abducted Dorian. It stood quiet and was not moving, which meant the humans could not be too far away. If humans covered long distances, they always did this in their rolling houses.
“Dogs?” Klaus asked. A lot of humans kept dogs, and although Klaus and the other boars would normally not avoid a fight with a dog, he found they had more urgent things to do at the moment.
“’Aven’t seen or heard any dogs,” the domestic boar whispered.
It had become dusk, and the biggest house opened one bright eye. This clearly meant that at least one human was around, and he was not asleep.
Klaus noiselessly dropped the human-stick he had brought.
“How many humans have you seen?” he whispered to Bonham.
“Three,” the boar mouthed back. “But –“
“Into which one of the small houses did they put him?” Klaus interrupted.
“The bigger one –“
Surprisingly noiseless for an animal of his size, Klaus slid over to the bigger of the small houses. Sturdy wooden planks with pieces of metal barred the entrance.
“Dorian? You there?” Klaus whispered.
“Who’s there?” came back Dorian’s voice.
“’S me, Klaus. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I have been fed, and somebody else must live here, what with the straw on the floor and a trough. It’s quite comfortable, but I fear –“
“You’re damn right to fear. According to your friend, Bonham, Pig Somebody Else is hanging dead in the house next to you.”
A gasp.
“I thought something was wrong,” Dorian breathed. “I smelled the blood ...”
“We’ll get you out,” Klaus said.
“Oh?” Dorian sounded doubtful. “I’ve tried to get out already, dear Klaus, but I fear I’m in a kind of impasse ...”
“We’ll get you out, “Klaus repeated. “Do you know how many humans are around at the moment?”
“I think three, which would be all of them,” Dorian whispered. “I have been fed not long ago, and I haven’t heard them leave on foot, nor have I heard the rolling house –“
“Fits in with what we see. Listen, you should make a lot of noise. Which will bring at least one human out to open the door – and then you run. Run him over!”
“What if more humans come out?”
“My boars and I will distract them – hurry now!”
“Wait a moment! Klaus, why -?” But the big boar had already left and had rejoined the other boars.
“Told him to make a racket to lure at least one human from the house. They will open the door to the small house. When that door’s open – not earlier – we’ll attack and cause a diversion, so’s the pink one can run! Got it?”
“Yes, Big Boar Klaus!” Achilles said, speaking for them all.
“Yes!” The stout boar called Bonham repeated.
Boris looked a bit doubtful at him, but Klaus gave a short, low grunt of approval.
“Are you sure, he - ?” Zoltan began, but was interrupted by wild rustling, loud grunts and shrill squeals. Then there were thumps, as if the captured boar was throwing himself at the door with all his might.
The plan seemed to work: The biggest house opened more yellow eyes and finally its mouth, spitting out all three humans.
“What the -?”
“Hey! It got out!” |
4debd28b87334974942d8eb1861dd5ff | ['ac1869e6420547b7aed9a14dfe357aa3'] | She quickly punched in the number and typed out a text, asking Costia out for a lunch date. If things wouldn’t turn out right, she’d earn herself a new friend. What’s the harm in that?
“Aren’t you supposed to wait 3 days?” Raven teased right after Lexa had hit send, chuckling at the way Lexa’s face lost 3 shades of color.
“Shit! She’s gonna think I’m desperate now. Shit!!” Lexa buried her head in her hands but before she could whine any further, her phone lit up, notifying her of Costia’s response. She exhaled deeply and a and a small smile made its way to her lips. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes but it was enough, for now.
**Costia: Glad to know you aren’t one of those snobby ‘wait for 3 days’ people. And yes, I would love to go on a lunch date with you** **J**
//
“Who is that?” Clarke asked taking her eyes off the screen to look at Lexa, who was typing away on her phone.
“Nobody” Lexa shrugged, setting her phone on the coffee table and smiling sweetly at Clarke.
“You’re texting during Parks and Rec. I’ve never seen you text during Parks and Rec before.” Clarke said and Lexa almost snorted at the statement.
Lexa never texted anyone when she was with Clarke before, no matter what they were doing. A smile still tugged at her lips at the fact that Clarke caught on to her efforts
“Fine. It’s the barista from that new coffee place you wanted to try. Her name is Costia.” Her phone buzzed again, but she chose to ignore it to focus on Clarke.
It was 3 days after her lunch date with Costia and they had been texting each other every day. The date went really well. Lexa found out that Costia actually co-owned the coffee shop and she was planning to open more shops if everything ran smoothly. Lexa found the girl’s tenacity and determination very admirable.
They had a lot in common and their personalities were somewhat on par with each other too. They both enjoyed endless hours of Parks and Rec, video games, and Disney movies. Costia seemed like a very nice girl. In any other circumstance, Lexa could totally see herself having a relationship with Costia. In this circumstance though, things were a tad bit more complicated.
“Barista girl? I thought you said you weren’t going to call her.” Clarke said, her shoulders slumped as she leaned back on the couch, her eyes avoiding Lexa’s.
“Well, I haven’t dated anyone in quite a while now and she is a very attractive woman. So I thought it would be worth a shot. We went on one date.” She shrugged as Clarke drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Lexa’s heart dropped at the sight. The blonde was in defense mode, and Lexa knew too well that that, was never a good thing.
“How was the date?” Clarke asked curtly, still refusing to look at her.
Lexa sighed, dropping herself against the couch next to Clarke.
“It was okay. She is really nice and we have a lot in common”
“You gonna ask her out on another date?” Clarke followed up.
“I think so. I want to see where this goes.” Lexa replied with a sigh.
“Okay.” Mumbled Clarke in response.
And with that, their conversation came to an end. A weird straining tension fell upon them and Lexa felt like she couldn’t breathe. It had never been like this with Clarke before. Their usual playful banter and light dynamic was replaced with awkward fidgeting and stolen glances.
“Hey…Clarke?” She reluctantly called, turning her attention to Clarke.
“Yea?” Clarke, on the other hand, busied herself with the Netflix selection.
“Are we okay?” She reached over and grabbed the remote out of Clarke’s hand, forcing the blonde to look at her, annoyance evident in her eyes. Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared into the blue of Clarke eyes. She felt like she was suffocating under their intensity.
“Of course we are. We’re friends. Best friends.” Clarke said, merely a whisper.
Lexa turned away, refusing to let Clarke see the welled up tears. She stood up, hastily gathered her things and headed for the door.
“I gotta go. My mom needs me” She mumbled over her shoulder and quickly let herself out. She couldn’t be around Clarke, not right now. The feeling was too much for her to bear and if she didn’t leave, she would probably break down right in front of Clarke.
It hurt so damn much. Loving someone who would never love you back fucking hurt.
Even though she already accepted that her relationship with Clarke would be nothing more than that of friendship, the pain never lessened. She felt like she was in the middle of a black hole of hopelessness and agony, and it was sucking her dry continuously. Some might say that it was a slight exaggeration, but that’s what it really felt like. Just constant pain, all the dam time, and to be honest Lexa was exhausted of always feeling that way.
She wiped away the fallen tears on her cheeks and quickly let herself in the car.
Even the goddamned car smelled like Clarke too.
Her phone buzzed, notifying her of a text from Clarke.
**C: I’m sorry if I said anything wrong. Please come back, we can talk about it.**
**C: Lexa, please.**
**L: No, you didn’t say anything. My mom needed some errands done. Sorry for leaving like that.**
**C: Okay. If you say so. Let me know if I can help with anything.**
**L: Thank you, Clarke. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.**
She sighed, dropping her phone in the cup holder, silently cursing herself. She rested her head against the steering wheel and closed her eyes, hoping to calm the erratic beating of her heart.
_‘How the hell did it get so messed up?’_ | 8b377e697eb04a0987428aaab0cfe4f2 | ['ac1869e6420547b7aed9a14dfe357aa3'] | “Of course” Lexa whispered back and she swore that she saw Clarke’s eyes darted to her lips. Just for a moment, but she saw it. She was sure.
Clarke cleared her throat and broke their gaze, effectively snapping them out of their trance. Their attention turned back to the tiramisu as both of them tried to pretend like the moment they just shared didn’t exist. _If only it was that easy_.
They eventually moved pass the slight awkwardness and eased back to their usual dynamic.
They chatted and laughed animatedly as they devoured the tiramisu. Clarke ended up spending the night, seeing that it was too late to head back to her apartment. Besides she was already in her pjs anyways.
They fell into bed and Clarke automatically gravitated towards Lexa. Her head nuzzled in Lexa’s neck and a goodnight was sleepily whispered. Lexa smiled as she wrapped her arms protectively around Clarke and listened to the girl’s steady heart beat and even breath.
Why she let Clarke get so close was beyond her. It was probably the smile, the hair, or, (Lexa really didn’t want to be crass) her ridiculously hot body. Or maybe, it was because Clarke was Clarke…Beautiful, talented, quirky, funny, and amazing Clarke. There was no use denying or fighting it anymore: Lexa Woods was completely, utterly and hopelessly in love with Clarke Griffin.
And for the first time in 8 months, Lexa thought, and it was just a thought, that maybe friends weren’t ever going to be enough.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I live for broody Lexa! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.
> Let me know what you think at the comments or wish-i-were-a-squid.tumblr.com
> Thanks for reading :)
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Special thanks to my lovely friend @bleufeenix for editing this chapter!
> Hope you guys will enjoy it
“I still don’t know why we gotta drive 30 minutes to get coffee, Clarke. There’s a perfectly good place down the street from my place” Lexa huffed
“This place is new. Raven and O said their green tea latte is really good, and I know how my favorite girl loves her green tea latte” The blonde wiggled her eyebrows as she nudged Lexa with her elbow, bright smile on her lips. Lexa couldn’t help but drop her annoyed façade at the sight of Clarke being all adorable, but she still didn’t forget to send a playful glare at the grinning blonde.
“You owe me dinner if this turns out to be a bust” Lexa said, to which Clarke replied with a silent nod against her shoulder.
Lexa let out a sigh as she tried her best to still the fluttering of her heart.
They had grown much closer since Clarke’s birthday, if that was still possible. Lexa’s plan went marvelously well and Clarke might have said that it was the best birthday she ever had. Yep. Lexa did that, and she was extremely proud of herself.
She knew that she shouldn’t have gone all out like that, Wells only took Clarke to the museum for crying out loud. But Lexa, being the hard headed hopeless romantic that she was, wanted Clarke to have the best day of her life, and she did just that.
Lexa knew she was digging a grave for herself, and a super deep one at that.
This thing with Clarke was unhealthy. She knew that, she couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do was see Clarke, spend time with Clarke, fall asleep with Clarke, make Clarke happy. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Freaking Clarke.
She wanted desperately for Clarke to love her back. But who was she kidding? Clarke had a perfect life planned out with an amazing guy. Lexa could never give Clarke what Wells could.
Raven, unlike Octavia, had been telling her to move on. For the time being, at least.
_“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Get out there, sleep around, live a little! Maybe if she sees you with someone else, she’ll get crazy jealous and realize her undying love for you!” Raven had said._
She couldn’t help but think that Raven was right. Lexa was young, attractive, so why should she spend time pining over one girl when she could have so many more?
Clarke cut her train of thought by lacing their hands together and tugged her towards the counter to place their orders.
Right, because that girl is freaking Clarke Griffin.
“You guys are cute together.” The barista offered them a tight-lipped smile as she punched in their orders.
Lexa could feel the tips of her ears redden and her heart picked up its pace at the words. The fact that Clarke threw her arm around Lexa’s shoulder didn’t help one bit.
“We are, aren’t we? Too bad we’re just best friends though.” Clarke grinned widely and Lexa still found herself at loss of words.
“So I guess you wouldn’t mind then if I say that your best friend has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” The barista winked, as she shot Lexa the most charming smile, making her almost choke on air. She could feel Clarke stiffen beside her and her arm dropped from Lexa’s shoulder. The brunette instantly missed the warmth of her touch but chose to ignore it.
“Um, thanks” She replied lamely, hoping the tinge on pink on her cheeks will go unnoticed. She retrieved her credit card from the cashier, who still had a smile plastered on her face. Lexa had to admit that the girl was beautiful: big intriguing chocolatey brown eyes, curly hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, perfect teeth, and, to top it all, she was quite charming.
The barista retreated to the machines and started making their drinks, which were done not even 2 minutes later. She placed their drinks on the counter and slid a piece of paper towards Lexa,
_Call me,_
_xxx-xxx-xxx_
_Costia ;)_ |
5a8711b0806743e6847ddf21fb41f8b6 | ['ac242148ba5e428885688ec0da0c6d94'] | Time and space are being wrought in these very halls. With The Crystal Tower as his beacon G’raha will saddle the eons themselves. But not through his efforts alone, though the journey itself will be his to bear.
“G’raha!” Biggs calls and waves him down. G’raha has become something of a friend and a mentor to the man in the recent months, somehow, as it was by no effort of his own. Most of the Ironworks employees glance up to him with a type of admiration in their gaze that makes G’raha want to shrink away into nothingness. “Things are shapin’ up well. Shouldn’t be more than another month or two before we can give ‘er a spin.”
G’raha humms. “I was under the impression that this machine of yours was a one shot wonder.”
“You got me there!” Biggs laughs. “Still. I know I’ve said it ‘fore and I’ll probably say it again, but. Thank you. For all of this.”
“I’ve done nothing to warrant your thanks. You and your crew are the ones who’ve labored day and night to put this project together.” G’raha counters.
Biggs glances to aforementioned crew and for a moment his smile falls. “Well, I ‘spose I ought to give them my thanks as well then. But without you- without your knowledge, your… unique insight on history, and Hells- without your connection to this Gods-forsaken tower none of this would have been anything more than a pipe dream passed down the generations.”
“But, this plan- this… your dream. I’m the one taking the journey but you’re the ones working so hard to make it happen and for-” he stutters, voice cracking, “and for what?” The tower would be a one way trip through time. “None of you will ever see any of the changes I… that I only just _might_ make! And even if I am successful there’s no way of… you wouldn’t know.”
Arms crossed, Biggs smiles at him steadily. “I know, my friend. Reckon there’s not a soul in Ironworks who doesn’t know that this mission is one we aren’ like to see the end of. But every single one of our forebears worked to bring us to this point. An’ even if they knew they wouldn’t live to see the end of this here tale they knew well enough to entrust the chapters they had written to us here and now.”
Biggs’ smile never wanes as he speaks. “An’ I reckon that even if we don’t see the conclusion to this story, the journey is well enough a reward in and of itself.”
A month and a half later G’raha watches the doors of The Crystal Tower shut himself off from the world he knows for the second time in his life. Biggs and Jessie and all of their compatriots wave him goodbye with smiles that can only be genuine. There will be no going back, no second chances. For better or worse he will be the lone author to the final chapter in their story, a tale of a time, a world and its peoples long forgotten to all but himself.
2. après
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> graha tia fic... 2!
[ I, redux ]
The First- or Norvrandt, as he is told, by wary refugees that circle the base of his Tower- is a star hanging on by a thread. But by a thread it did hang, as did her people, adamant to not let that thread fray and snap. The peoples of Norvrandt dug their heels in and in doing so gave the star the weight it needed to keep on persevering. But willpower and well-wishers alone did not save a star, a fact that G’raha was all too familiar with.
But the peoples of Norvrandt seemed inclined to place their faith in him. A mysterious outsider arrived in a tower of pure crystal- like something out of a storybook. He kept his face hidden even in those early days. And as those days grew long and warped into months and then years G’raha knew the moments in time he sought would not be happening within his time, short as the lives of men were.
G’raha did not come here with the weight of the world and the will of its peoples on his shoulders to just die, and so he searches for an answer to the age old riddle of life.
His synthesis with the Crystal Tower goes smoother than he had expected. Which is to say G’raha had not lost his life on the spot, though he had doubled over and passed out from the pain.
The changes to his body are unsettling. His flesh woven with crystal, yet flexible enough to mimic the bone and sinew it had replaced. Eating and sleeping become a luxury rather than a necessity. When a sickness rages through the refugee camp-turned-town G’raha is not among the afflicted. He tends to the sick children whose parents are fearful of contamination. The sickness passes with time and those children who had survived grow tall and have children of their own.
Around them they have built up a city to rival any of the great City-states of The Source. And the larger the city, _his city_ , as some would have it becomes so does the mystery of its mysterious benefactor grow. Anyone who has seen his face and known his name all those years ago when G’raha had been a newcomer to Norvrandt were long gone. The citizens dub him several things throughout the years but the title that sticks is the Crystal Exarch.
Years fly by impossibly fast and G’raha Tia slips into the role of Crystal Exarch. When the first Scion ( _wrong, that’s the wrong one, you fool_ ) arrives dazed and inexplicably nude on his doorstep, demanding answers and names before he bothers to demand a change of clothes, the syllables if his name snare his tongue like brambles.
[ II, redux ] | bd5f3066471b4653991f2ee6d2068846 | ['ac242148ba5e428885688ec0da0c6d94'] | “So… You’re bringing this kids soul into our world. Or, well, I’m gonna assume by the look on your face you already have. And I’ll be real I have… more than a few questions. And complaints. Mostly complaints, I gotta say. But first things first- why in _Gods_ name were you in contact with someone from another dimension in the first place?” This was going to be a long story. Hanekoma knew it.
“Am I not allowed to take vacations?” Josh barks, fingers twirling in his wavy hair. “I wanted to take Neku somewhere where we could actually, you know, see each other. That isn’t a shopping center or a ramen shop. His friends sort of… well, they’re hard to get rid of.”
“Wow. I hope Phones appreciates your very, very overkill attempts at wooing him. Don’t think I’ve ever had a girl take me to an alternate dimension as a first date before.” Hanekoma figures this is divine punishment for choosing a dead fifteen year old as his best friend.
Apparently Josh does not appreciate his wisecracks because the boy shuffles in his seat and crosses his arms. _Touchy subject, huh?_ “Back to the point. I met Sora-
Hanekoma snorts. “Sora? That’s his actual name??”
“Stop interrupting. As I was saying, Sora is a pretty unique sort of kid. The dimension he’s from has ways for mortals to travel between its worlds and even pocket dimensions. Sora’s something of a veteran explorer of his own dimension, so imagine my surprise to see him drifting dangerously close to our own. And being dead, to boot.”
“People die lots, J. That’s sort of in the whole point of mortality. Can’t save ‘em all.”
“I’m aware. But Sora was dead and drifting around in the far reaches of the universe. What kind of cruel person just lets someone drift around in oblivion for all eternity?” Josh waxes on, grin curling into a toothy smirk yet again.
“Uh, that sounds a lot like you J, if I’m being honest.” Hanekoma wasn’t born yesterday. If Josh did something he did it for a _reason_. Usually a self-benefiting one.
Josh takes a long while to respond. When he does he stares at the windows facing out to CAT street. Shibuya never slept but CAT street was unusually subdued. A little town avenue of eden in a big city. “Lets just say I owe it to a friend of his to at least give him a fighting chance.”
Hanekoma turns to face the windows as well. “And that’s all?”
When Josh speaks his voice is quiet, as if shielding his words from enemies unseen. “I thought you knew me Mr. H. Of course I didn’t risk my head _just_ over a silly debt.” Josh exhales. “You know somethings up in Shinjuku. If I can feel it, you can feel it. And if it doesn’t just stop at Shinjuku, then this Sora kid… consider him insurance.”
“Must be one hell of a kid.” Hanekoma concedes. The thought of Shinjuku turns his stomach to ice.
“Oh he is. I mean, maybe not as interesting as Neku,” Josh starts, “but certainly one of a kind. In a boring way.”
“You think he’ll win?” Five days until the new game. Five days until Hanekoma has to pull every string he’s ever sown to keep the higher-ups from smiting Shibuya on the spot.
Josh’s phone dings in answer, and he opens it. Hanekoma watches as the kid flicks open his phone and smiles fondly at at it. The screen it paused on a text, and although Hanekoma cannot read the small font of its contents he can make out the two character senders ID which reads “Neku”. “I think,” Josh says, snapping his phone shut. “Shibuya’s going to eat him alive.”
-
(Five days come to pass and the world spins on. On a flourescent sign lit street a brown haired boy awakens with his head pressed to the pavement. He- _Sora_ his mind supplies- stands up quickly. The whir of machinery and incessant chatter of people flood his ears. From above him the colorful lights of the city- _what city_ \- block out the stars in the night sky.
He staggers to a sidewalk, blinking owlishly. Before he has a chance to compose himself a small creature manifests on the street across from him. The creature lopes towards him with purpose. He backs away, pushing through the crowd of people wholly unaware of him.
Once he is safe from the creature he collects himself. He’s Sora. From… an island,. Destiny Islands. But he’d been to other places, too. Lots of them. This city was not one of them. Memories flash and filter through his mind like phantoms. A quiet town wreathed in darkness. An eternal sunset. A pristine city of white stone. An empty chasm, desolate plains. The memories of places burn in his mind but for the life of him Sora cannot conjure the people of those places alongside them.
_I’m forgetting something_ , Sora thinks, and his mind races. More than something. Someone- anyone. But when he tries to think of familiar faces they come up blank and shadowed, featureless and foreign.
Sora is lost in thought when the creature returns. It takes the opportunity to strike out at him, snapping him back into reality with the feeling of a sharp burn where it had hit him. The creature lunges again and Sora swings at it because his muscles tell him to do so. What he had hoped to accomplish he does not know because there is nothing _to_ swing in his hands, and the creature winds up scoring another burning mark upon his skin. |
8c63531d10234c9b9034634b3518b693 | ['ac2733dfb50b46849dc0afec16a331e6'] | "Never thought you could take a cock so big, huh? Its so cute seeing your used to be tight hole just widen for me." he grabbed taehyungs hair, thrusting into him mercilessly. "i bet jimin would feel so terrible for this.. how cute." he caressed the others cheek, while pounding him.
jungkook let out faint moans himself as he thrusted into the sobbing male. "you cute little whore. My little whore, huh?"
he shook his head and tried to smack the maknae, but due to the position he was in he couldn't.
taehyung began both sobbing and moaning, It made him feel disgusting for him to say that. "s-stop." rasped the submissive weakly, "soon. I'm so close, baby." he grunted, tearing taehyungs small entrance.
he knew that his sides were going to bruise from how harsh jungkook was gripping them, digging his nails into them as he forced his body against his cock.
but fuck it made him feel so good, taking advantage of his body when he has no control.. poor jimin, his husband is a whore.
"it hurts!" he squeaked out, legs shuddering and fingers trembling. he could feel the youngers huge cock pressing against his gut and it felt awful.
"pathetic. is jimin really that small? or are you just a pussy?" and purposely, he thrusted so hard and so deep inside of the other, burying his cock in his ass.
jungkook let all of his cum ooze right into taehyungs hole, "mmm babyboy.. im filling your little tummy so good." he started to thrust at a soft pace, pushing the cum further inside of him.
he let out a harsh snivel, feeling limp onto the bed. "love my cum filling you up and making you feel like a good whore, huh? i think you should stay filled until next time."
11. sick (jk x bts)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> jk x bts -
> jungkook is sick from food poisoning, he makes himself messy but the others dont care.
Poor little jungkook has been so sick for what feels like forever. last week when they went out to eat, he got food poisoning and ever since he's been so ill.
everything he eats he throws back up or its not too.. pleasant coming out the other way. the others just want their baby to start feeling better.
he would often get messy, throw up on himself by accident, even mess his diaper but that didn't stop any of them from cuddling him until he feels better. showers exist for a reason..
and right now, namjoon, taehyung, jimin and hoseok were cuddling up to their baby. "are you feeling okay?" namjoon rubbed his tummy, making sure he didn't have to vomit or anything.
"i have to.. to go to the bathroom.." he murmured, "didn't you just go, sweets?" taehyung wondered, because its only been like seven minutes since he tried.
he nodded, "mhm.. my stomach is cramping too bad. it hurts." the youngest buried his face in joons chest while his back was being rubbed soothingly.
soft cries were heard from him as he held his stomach and buried his face.
he then rolled over, and started to heave towards the ground. taehyung tried to hurry and grab a trash can but unfortunately it was too late and he had already thrown up on the floor and got some on the bed.
he placed his hand over his tummy and whimpered, "i-im so-sorry." he felt tears burn his eyes, looking down because he was too embarrassed to look at the others.
he felt an arm wrap around his tiny waist, "shh baby.. its okay.. lets go lay on the sofa, yeah? we can watch a movie, ill carry you in there jungoo." he heard the oldest say so quickly.
jungkook felt himself being pulled up gently into the males arms, "jinie~" murmured the now comfortable male.
"our poor baby has been sick for so long. he needs to start feeling better." hoseok ruffled up the others hair, making him giggle and nod.
jin put him down onto the couch, "what do you wanna watch baby?" he grabbed the remote, turning on the tv. "family guy!" the younger smiled widely.
hoseok and namjoon sat beside him, the two of them both allowing for him to rest his head and legs on them. yoongi sat beside hoseok and ran his fingers through the maknaes hair, and jin sat beside namjoon.
jimin and taehyung say on the floor and would play around with his hands or tease him cutely. he felt so warm and loved.
after about fifteen minutes, jungkook had to pee so badly but he didn't wanna get up and out of the comfortable way he was laying.
since he was wearing a diaper, he slowly let himself piss in it. but quickly regretted it.
he was blushing a bright pink as namjoon looked over at him, able to hear the stream of piss leaking from his slit. "did kookie pee himself?" he soothingly rubbed up his thigh, making him blush even more.
"its okay baby." yoongi comforted, he felt jimin grab his hand, holding it. "good boy." he then kissed his hand.
now the maknae was just a tomato, all his hyungs were being so kind to him.
he was giggling from all the sweet interactions but suddenly started to cough, coughing up flem onto himself.
"poor baby." hoseok carressed his cheek, "i'll go get you a cloth, okay babyboy?" taehyung stood up, heading to the kitchen.
seokjin leaned over and started to rub his belly as if he were a kitten, "im sorry." jungkook frowned.
"its okay, baby." jimin poked his cheek. the other came back with a warm cloth and leaned down, wiping off the maknaes mouth and neck.
"f-feels g-good.." the shy boy stuttered a bit, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "good, baby." | 76415e1b00114214878081179624422d | ['ac2733dfb50b46849dc0afec16a331e6'] | "when you start feeling better, we'll go out for ice cream, angel. you can get anything you like, or we can get some donuts and ice cream." hoseok smiled, wanting to make his baby feel a little better.
jungkook clapped his hands and nodded, "thank you hoseokie!"
shortly after, he fell asleep between all of them.
12. squirting (sope)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> ship ㅡ sope
> warnings;
> watersports
yoongi always loved sweet and soft sex, he loved feeling the warmth of his other while being so enjoyably pleasured. the genuine love between them, he adored it.
his daddy loved it aswell, seeing the sub so overwhelmed and squirmy. it was beautiful to him.
thats why, right now yoongi was lowering himself onto his daddys cock. slowly, of course.
"mm.. babyboy, you always take me so good." praised the male who has his hands gripped onto the olders waist.
he let out soft and shaky moans, holding himself up so his cock wasn't all the way in. "you got this baby.. come on." the male encouraged the smaller.
yoongis vision was spinning as he was pulled all the way down, the doms dick filling his pink hole. "so pretty for me." he grins and holds onto his boys hips, thrusting upward.
he pouts out his lip before putting his head back, letting out desperate whines. "h-hoseok.."
"you're so gorgeous, princess." arms were wrapped around yoongis delicate frame, while he was lovingly fucking him.
the older felt his cocklet throbbing , making him whine with his mouth cutely hanging open. it felt so good.
"mppf.." babbled the sub, bouncing himself up and down on hoseoks cock. he grunted and held his waist, helping him keep balance.
"mm.. you're so full.."
yoongi was now panting, he felt his dick twitch at each thrust. hoseok suddenly felt a liquid hitting against his lower abdomen, his first assumption being it was just his baby coming, but it was far too much and not thick enough to be cum.
he looked at a flustered yoons, face flushed bright red and skin seemingly glowing from sweat. his eyes remaining so innocent and a bit worried.
"i-im so-sorry." his words faltered and his voice rasped, he felt embarrassed. the younger noticed that his baby had just accidentally pissed on him and he didnt even mind.
"aw, babyboy.." he stopped thrusting, "so soon?" he questioned, a smirk tugging at his lips and an eyebrow raised upward. "what ㅡ what do you mean?" the male panted.
yoongi drinks only water, so his pee happens to be so clear. it looks like a females ejaculation once they reach an orgasm.
his eyes filled with just as he started to thrust again, "im glad i make my baby feel good enough to orgasm.." he cooed, making said male confused and unsettled.
"but i- i-" "you squirted on me, baby. oh id love to make you squirt again.." he licked his lips, knowing exactly what he was doing.
yoongis legs were shuddering and his cock was still so hard and throbbing, he had to piss still but was already so humiliated.
"daddy! n-no, i didnt s-squirt!" the boy stuttered from both current arousal and embarrassment. hoseok avoided his cute whining and changed their position, so yoongi was now on his back and he was hovering over him.
quick yet gently he started pressing his hardened cock into the male, making him moan.
"ah!" he whimpered as he couldn't control the piss leaking out of his cocklet, leaking onto his thighs and then spurting onto hoseok.
"good boy, squirting just for me." he made slow, brutal thrusts, each one more piss would squirt out of his cock. he adored how squirmy and whiney yoonie was.
he began to stroke his sensitive little thing, sending pleasure up his body. sweet moans escaped from his lips, "th-thank you.." he bit his lip, arching his back as he felt himself actually about to cum.
"always such a good boy." praised hoseok as little bits of white liquid squirted from his dick.
he leaned over, giving the boy a passionate kiss. then mumbling 'i love you.' to make his embarrassed babyboy feel more comfortable.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry if these seem lazy, i'm kind of upset because i take time to write these and i cant even get a simple "thank you" in return lol. (by the people who request these!! not just regular readers💙)
> does that make me seem rude? idk, anyways, i hope you enjoy.
> to the people who just read these and support it, thank you so much <3 it means a lot to me and i appreciate it so much.
13. messy diaper (jikook)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> ship ㅡ jikook
> warning;
> scat fucking, shitting in diaper, thigh riding.
jungkook was laying in jimins arms comfortably as they just played with eachothers hair, faces and kissed every so often.
the older adored kookies soft bunny-like smile, and everytime he would brush his fingers across his cheek or boop his nose, he would get to see that beautiful smile. so he couldn't not do it.
he was real squirmy in his lap, the male thought it was just because he was being touchy and playful, he didnt expect it to be because he currently had bowel movement.
"my babyboy." jimin smiled, kissing him passionately on the lips. he started whimpering like a baby. "whats wrong, kookie?" he asked sweetly, but was confused.
the younger could no longer hold it in, a stream of soft shit pushed itself from his hole. his face flushed bright red, his skin burned from embarrassment.
"k-kookie is s-sorry.." the boy facepalmed, it didn't take long for him to figure out what had just happened, though.
"you're wearing your diaper, correct?" he felt his ass, feeling the thickness of the diaper. he whined as he felt an uncontrollable pile of feces leak so freely from his ass. |
bd0dd99ed715494ea0fd7b752e82f31a | ['ac2ec7c8d46642958c94f9276a26b163'] |
Even
**Author's Note:**
> kink meme prompt: Finn is cheating on clarke so she gives him a lesson by fucking bellamy in front of him.
> I tidied this up from the original fill that I did, so hopefully it flows better. Enjoy some good ol' revenge fucking.
>
> you can read more kink meme fills LINK
>
> Edit: apparently I can't read and thought km was closed when I posted this...please don't @ me
Clarke realizes a few things the moment she finds Finn face deep in another girl’s pussy.
One: this is not the first time he’s done it, if the way the girl, a hot little brunette clad in nothing but a tight little red dress with her legs spread wide open, black stilettos pointed into the air, screams his name. It’s the same way Clarke has so many times before -- completely faked and over dramatic if only to boost his fragile ego. Finn is good at a few things, admittedly, but eating pussy is not one of them.
Two: she’s absolutely pathetic for thinking a bag of take out and an office visit could remedy the fight they had the night before. It’s been clear for a while that there is no remedy to this failing relationship, but Clarke has some issues to work out, one of those being her fear of being alone.
Three: the last thing any man will do to her is make her look like a god damned fool.
She doesn’t even wait for him to wipe the arousal from his lips, to even form the apology that he would try to spin into an accusation against her. She just laughs, tosses the lunch into the nearest trash can and slams the door to the office so hard the floor shakes.
When she arrives back at their shared apartment, she finds the first picture of them she can. It’s one of them in Florida last year, smiling like they were in some god-damned Hallmark movie. She stares at it for a long moment, until she feels something in her snap, and launches it at the nearest wall. The glass shatters, the corner of the frame slightly chips the paint. And it feels good. So she finds another. Another. Soon enough there is a pile of broken frames scattered about the living room and she’s just about to start on the bedroom -- tossing clothes out the window seems like a healthy coping mechanism, right? -- when there’s a frantic knock at the door.
She has a few words for the cheating bastard, oh, more than few. Ripping open the door, she starts, “You have some _ fucking _ nerve-”
Except it isn’t her cheating bastard of an _ ex, _ but her neighbor, Bellamy, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, hair dripping onto her welcome mat like he sprinted from his shower to her front door.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, pushing past her as if searching for something, “I heard glass breaking.”
Okay, so maybe she didn’t give much thought to the fact that the wall that became her own personal launching target had been the one connecting their apartments. His eyes find shards of glass and shattered photos. The muscles in his shoulders tense, carving dents into his bronze skin, and suddenly she’s distracted.
She’s always found her neighbor to be hot. Sort of that _ I can look but can’t touch _ appeal because she’s a monogamous kind of gal and sometimes it’s nice to admire from a distance. He’s been a consistent presence in her life, starting when they first moved in and he graciously offered to help move the furniture up the stairs so Clarke didn’t have to. He’s loaned her books, she’s loaned him records. Sometimes they watch movies or she’ll take him dinner. Last winter he fixed their furnace for nothing more than a beer. She kept him company as he worked, watched as his biceps flexed with each turn of the wrench. Her eyes would find their way to the exposed bits of skin when his shirt rode up, the thatch of hair under his naval traveling below the waistband of his jeans...
“Clarke?”
“Hm?” She flushes, snapping her eyes away from where she was most definitely checking him out. “I’m fine.”
“Did something happen?” he asks, approaching slowly, “Where’s Finn.”
She snorts. “Probably still fucking his secretary.”
“What?”
“Caught him cheating on me. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
She’s not. There are a thousand tiny pieces of glass to prove that, but she’s too stubborn to say otherwise.
Bellamy grabs her shoulders, squeezing them gently under his strong fingers. It probably says a lot about her that the only thought running through her head is: _ he has really nice hands. _
“What the fuck do you mean he cheated on you?” Now he’s watching her with pity, eyes searching hers to make sure she’s not two seconds from throwing herself at the wall like those frames. She hates it. She hates that she looks stupid. Naive. And she hates that Bellamy pities her for it.
“I mean he was choking on cum about an hour ago and it wasn’t mine,” she snaps. Her cheeks burn, though she’s not sure if it’s the embarrassment of admitting it out loud or the fact that Bellamy is now looking at her like she’s some broken little thing, like she’s one of those stupid frames lying scattered across the carpet in pieces.
He finally stops with the _ sad eyes _ and to her surprise, laughs. It’s gravely and bitter. “Wow, he’s an even bigger piece of shit than I thought. For the record, I never liked him.”
_ Interesting. _
“Oh?”
He takes a small step forward. She doesn’t move away this time. “Yeah. Always thought you were too good for him.” | 4ca6bb660fa14192b817f5a0c74bc197 | ['ac2ec7c8d46642958c94f9276a26b163'] |
Change Is Everything
**Author's Note:**
> Please heed all tags and warnings. If it's not your cup of tea, don't drink it just to talk about how much you hate it (and that goes for all km fills). thank you, and enjoy <3
Clarke knows he’s here the moment he walks in the door. Spots his mess of dark curls, his stupid fucking smirk from a mile away. She had been naive enough to think she could have one night, just one good night, without Bellamy showing up to remind her that good doesn’t exist anymore.
She finds Wells, who is attempting to flirt with a girl from his Biology class, as though there is a pick up line somewhere in a conversation about punnett squares. She grabs his sleeve and yanks on it, drawing an annoyed glare from his usually soft features.
“Tell me you didn't invite him,” she spits, the venom on her tongue sour as it spills.
“Who?” he asks, glancing around the room as though he could have no earthly idea as to whose presence alone could send her into an angry panic.
It seems that time has been kind to everyone else, allowed them to forget and move on. Forgive, even. How could they not? It wasn’t their lives. So, of course he would come home. He'd come to parties and it's a small town, there aren't many. Frankly, she should have known.
“Oh shit,” Wells seems to spot him over her head. He reaches down to grab her shoulders, “I didn't think... I can ask him to leave, if you want?”
A resounding ‘yes’ is on the tip if her tongue but it catches. How long is she going to let him ruin her? How long is she going to be the one that suffers? She could keep avoiding situations that involve him, she's done pretty well thus far. But at what expense? The pity of her friends, the nights spent alone in her room because she wanted to avoid seeing him? Thinking about him? Has his life changed the way hers has? She doubts it.
“No,” she finally answers, releasing the sleeve gripped between her fingers. “I'm not going to let him keep me from having a good time.”
Wells grins, “That's the spirit.”
She pushes her way to the kitchen, fixing herself a drink that is a poor excuse for a mixed one. Emori offers her a shot, cheap tequila, and she shoots it back chasing it with her cup of vodka, a hint of cranberry. The crowd is thick, nearly the entire graduating class home for Christmas. Sharing stories of their first semester at University, showing off their new tolerance for alcohol now that they've spent weekend upon weekend building it up.
She wonders what it feels like, to be in that stage of life. To not have had everything crushed into shambles by someone who was supposed to love them.
She can’t keep doing this. She's tired. She just wants to feel okay.
She finds her way to the beer pong table, a small crowd cheering as Raven sinks the ball into the last opposing cup.
“Game, set, match, boys,” she flips her ponytail over her shoulder, lighting up when she sees Clarke. “Finally. A challenge! What do you say, Griffin.”
It's a close game and by the time she's downing the final cup, she's good and buzzed. She feels free. Careless. And this time when someone approaches her, she doesn't shrink away. Doesn’t search for the pity in their eyes.
“Hell of a game,” he compliments. Dax, she thinks his name is, a few years older than her if she remembers correctly. He's trying to be smooth, but she still sees the way his eyes fall to her her chest. She can’t blame him, her tits look good. A low cut top, no bra. Harper had picked it out, insisting that covering her breasts was a sin.
“Yeah,” Raven had agreed, “And also, I think it's time you got a little action. You're too tense.”
_ Tense _ . That's what Raven says out loud. But she knows she really means _ hung up _ . Depressed. Pitiful. The solution to all being a good fuck. It worked for her, so it has to work for Clarke.
“How's school going for you?” Dax asks, sipping his beer. Small talk, God, she hates small talk. They both know what this is leading towards. He singled her out in the crowd, he's testing the waters. Her mouth is loose and patience thin.
“Yeah, fine.” she reaches over, placing a hand on his chest. It’s too narrow. Too soft. Not right. “Upstairs? I know a good place.”
He grins. “Lead the way.”
She sits down her drink and grabs his hand, dragging him through the living room to the stairs. Couples are staggered on each one, making out against the wall and whispering filthy things to one another. They reach the top and Clarke turns to pull him into her, pressing her tits to his chest.
_ Not right. Not right. Not right. _
He leans down to kiss her, lips chapped and dry from wiping the beer away with the back of his hand. He's handsy, uses too much tongue. But it'll do. It's nothing. Means nothing. They stumble down the hallway, his lips nipping at her neck. She counts the doors, searching for the fifth on the left. The Jaha mansion is the perfect place for anonymous hookups. Unused bedrooms waiting to be messed. It's what made Wells so popular in high school, what has kept him popular despite everyone disappearing to school. This big empty house left to sit while Jaha Senior is off trying to save the world.
“You're so fucking hot,” Dax growls into her ear, “Always thought so, but you were…” |
42b282a81dc44867a26d969ec4acf048 | ['ac51ee8f4bb44fce888eff47e1433a89'] | “Oh, then what would you call it? Definitely not boyfriend of the year,” she shot back, squaring her shoulders, trying to make up some of the difference in their size.
“Think what you want,” he snapped, turning from her in an obvious dismissal. But she refused to be ignored, happen what may they were going to hash this out. She went after him, grabbing his arm to stop him and make him face her. He whirled around, ripping out of her grip, and stood up to his full height, towering over her.
“I don’t want to think whatever. I want you to talk to me,” she yelled.
“I don’t want to talk,” he replied stubbornly.
She saw red at that and lashed out physically this time, shoving him hard. It caught him off guard, actually causing him to stumble. He looked at her in shock and found her shoulders hunched and shaking, biting her lip, tears getting ready to fall, but before he could say anything she was at him again. Another shove, but it didn’t move him this time, so she hit him. It was only pathetic thumps with the sides of her fists on his hard chest, but it was more satisfying than crying. He let her do it for a few moments, before he grabbed her by her shoulders to stop her. But she struggled against him.
“Let me go,” she snarled.
“Never,” he said and kissed her.
It wasn’t sweet or kind. It was hard and bruising and filled with the frustration and anger still coursing through them. And it wasn’t what Felicity had wanted, she wanted to talk and sort things out, but if this was all she could get from him right now, well she would take it. So she kissed him back just as hard. In their ferocity their front teeth smacked into each other, causing her to reel back. He took the opening to attack her neck, kissing and sucking as if she was his only sustenance after being starved. His grip on her arms was bruising.
He nipped a bit too hard at a sensitive spot on her collarbone and she jerked from has grasp. But he was right on her, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and kissed her again. Her arms now free she took his head in her hands to take more control of the kiss. He walked forward, pushing her with him, until her back hit a wall. She hissed at the impact and bit his lip in retaliation. He grunted and pulled away, tonguing the spot. She took the free moment to rip her shirt over her head and work on her bra. Oliver took the hint and shoved his sweats and underwear off in one, kicking them away.
She continued to struggle with her bra, one of the hooks had bent and wouldn’t come undone. He saw her fighting with the article and reached behind her, pushing her hands out of the way. When he failed to undo it too he grabbed each side of the back strap and literally ripped it apart, the seams failing against his strength. She cried out at the destruction of her belongings, but he silenced her with another sharp kiss, swallowing any protest. She let the destroyed garment slide off her between them, leaving her in skirt, panties, and heels and he completely bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest as his kiss moved back to her neck, passing over his hardened nipples causing him to bite onto her shoulder, pressing his teeth into the soft skin and hard muscle there just enough for her to gasp and arch her back. He resumed kissing her skin, moving back to her collarbone, and she used her nails again, harder this time, passing agonizingly slow over his nipples.
He snatched her wrists together in one hand and raised her arms above her head. The other hand he hooked under thigh and lifted up. She jumped slightly to help, ending up with her legs around his waist, back and hands pressed against the wall. He kissed her, sucking in her bottom lip, gripping it with his teeth and pulling slowly, stretching it out just until she gave a little moan of pleasurable discomfort, before releasing. He let go of her hands too, then bent his head to her chest. He wrapped his lip around one nipple and grasped the other breast roughly. He sucked hard, brushing the edges of his top teeth over the sensitive bud and rubbed his thumb firmly over the other, making her squirm and gasp. She ground against him as he worked her breasts, aching for more.
He was aching too. His cock so hard and angry at this point it was nearly painful. He removed his hand from her so he could reach between them. He had to shove her skirt up and her under wear out of the way, as they hadn’t gotten around to taking them off. Holding her underwear to the side he pressed against her. The light pressure and hint of heat was already such a relief. But he held himself there, just the barest of touches against her core, teasing, taunting. She rocked forward, trying to capture him, but he moved back to match her movement. She groaned in annoyance and bucked against him, but still he gave her nothing. Only pressing lips and teeth to her shoulder, bruising the skin there. | fcc7dffb024f4df6afa6da9816845cf1 | ['ac51ee8f4bb44fce888eff47e1433a89'] | She fondled herself for a few more moments, contemplating what to do next, sucking her bottom lip in at the sensations, before sliding her hands back down her sides, to her thighs, up his stomach, chest, slipping over his neck, to press her palms right behind his ears, finger scraping gently at his scalp. Her body bowed over his with the motion until her lips could reach his skin again. She pressed a delicate kiss to the beginning bloom of the mark she had left earlier and worked her way down to his chest. Her hands traveled back down exploring spots before her mouth found them. She slid her body further back so she was straddling his abdomen, making Oliver’s hips jerk with the movement and his hot, heavy member to bump her backside. She gasped and sat up, raking her nails down his practically perfect torso. He hissed and brought his knees up at the sharp contact, pressing the top of his thighs into her back and pushing her more firmly to him.
“Hey, now, no moving, that’s against the rules,” Felicity reproached, moving off him to push his legs back down.
“We never established any rules,” he grunted, as she placed her hands on his knees and gently spread his legs apart, blushing at the boldness. She positioned herself between his legs, sitting on her knees again and ran her fingers tantalizingly up and down the tops of his thighs, going a little higher each time.
“There are always rules,” she said, sliding her hand up finally, finally to where he really wanted them. All words flew from his mind as she gently gripped, leaving only pleasure. Her movements were slow and careful, aware of the lack of lubrication, making Oliver strain against the tie, frustrated at the teasingly slow pace and light contact.
“Felicity,” he ground out, demanding, begging.
“What?” she whispered, not looking up from her task. Oliver wasn’t sure if she was taunting him or was just absorbed in the moment, either way he couldn’t keep this up.
“Please,” he hissed, as her hand rose to his tip and back down, adding some slickness to her movements. Her head snapped up at his guttural voice, eyes flickering over the emotions she found on his face. Something like determination steeled her face and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Her gaze dropped back down, her head followed, placing a feather light kiss where her hand had just been, causing him to curl his toes and clench his teeth to keep from moving. She kissed her way down to his base, pausing there to suck lightly before moving back up with a long lick.
Oliver ground out a low _fuck_ as Felicity took the head of him into her mouth. She sucked and released, soothed with the flat of her tongue and repeated, her hand rhythmically pumping below. Once comfortable with the feel of his cock in her mouth she took him a little deeper and pumped a little harder. He couldn’t help but move with the change in pace, raising his hips and bending his legs so the flats of his feet found purchase on the bed. Her free hand that had been resting on his hip bone slid down and around at his movement, cupping his behind. She kneaded the firm muscle lightly to match her other motions. He gasped, grinding his teeth, desperately wanting to touch her head, hair, anything. She took her mouth from around him to breathe freely for a few moments, running her one hand up and down his full length with firm, but slow strokes. She moved her other hand up to cradle his sac, massaging gently. She swirled her tongue around his tip, releasing his testicles to trace a path down that had Oliver arching and cursing, praying. She took him in her mouth again, moving faster, harder and circling her thumb around the opening between his cheeks. He was chanting now, _Felicity_ , _Felicity_ , hips thrusting out of his control. She could feel his muscles tightening, close, so close. She deftly angled her head to take him as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks and pulled up quickly sucking hard. She pressed her thumb down there and ran it up that oh so sensitive area, moving her other hand almost frantically, up, down, and again. It was so much, too much, he wanted to tell her to stop, to pull her mouth up, away, but he could only cry her name as he came suddenly and hard, arms strained, headboard nearly breaking, hips pumping sharply as he rode it out.
With a well sated groan, Oliver relaxed and tried to catch his breath, eyelids and limbs heavy, while Felicity’s mouth slipped off him. Her lips were pressed firmly together and she reached across him to grab a tissue from the box on her nightstand. She brought the tissue up to her mouth spitting a few times into it, before crinkling it up and throwing it away. She wiped any excess from her lips with the back of her hand as she slid up his body to reach his lips. His kiss was slow and grateful, sending deep shudders through her body.
“Now I’m no good to you,” he murmured against her mouth, feeling the dampness and heat through her still lace covered center, where she once again straddled his abdomen.
“I have faith in your stamina,” she smiled.
“Well, I would certainly hate to disappoint you,” he replied, bringing his suddenly free hands up to hold her face.
“How…never mind,” she kissed him again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I turned dom/sub into just some restraint play. And I totally cheated with rimming. Obvs the little bit of butt stuff I added was small and not rimming, but I do not like rimming (or anal really) at all. It generally turns me off so I couldn't write it, sorry if that's something you do like.
> |
373599612145423d932615449bd2ca59 | ['ac52420719f641f39a56f6bb466329f8'] | Dear Dean
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first Fanfic ever so it probably sucks...sorry!:/
Dean.
I don't know how humans write letters but I'll try. I always try don't I? And usually I fail. But not this time, Dean. Not this time.
Dear Dean,
I'm not going to send this letter, I'll just pretend. It's all just pretend, Dean.
Because you wouldn't read it. You would tear it apart or burn it or simply ignore it.
Dean, what have you done? What have you become? What have I become?
Dear Dean, I'm trying to find a solution, a cure. And I admit, it's mostly for me.
Because Dean, I can't do this anymore. I miss you Dean. With every breath I take, every single second of my eternal life I miss you.
I miss your smile.
The way you eat pie.
The way you talk, the way you listen.
I miss the way you say my name, when you pray to me. You're horrible at praying!
But what I miss most are your beautiful green eyes, Dean.
When I saw them for the first time I tought they were the most beautiful things I've ever seen. And I've been in heaven.
When I saw them for the last time I tought so too.
I want you to know that you are not a monster, Dean. Not for me.
For me you're still Dean Winchester, the man who went to hell and back.
Amd Dean I started feeling something. The feeling that humans would describe as 'love', I suppose.
Dear Dean,
I love you.
And I know that this love is ridiculous and that you'll never know anoit my feelings for your or that you'll even return them, but Dean, let me pretend you do. This pretend is all I have. And I won't let it go. Never.
Not like I've let you go.
I'll take care of it. My pretend.
Dear Dean,
I'll find a cure. Me and Sam won't stop looking for it.
This is a promise, Dean.
You will be fine.
Sam will be fine.
I will be fine.
We will be fine.
And because you'll never know, I'll say it again, Dean.
I love you.
Yours,
Castiel | 20358771fcf04f2eb9be14c9542f4115 | ['ac52420719f641f39a56f6bb466329f8'] | Dean headed to his appartement, opening the box with the letters Cas had left him, searching for a letter that could fit the situation to read before going to sleep. A red envelope caught his eye.
"Open when you laughed", it said. Dean took it and placed himself in his bed, beginning to read the letter.
Hey honey,
Calm down, I know how much you hate it when I call you that, but I'm doing it anyway just for the fun of it.
I'm assuming, you had a good day since you picked the letter that said 'Open when you laughed'.
I wish I could know what you laughed about, but since I'm, well, dead I don't.
You didn't laugh often, Dean. Which is a pity, because you looked even more handsome when you laughed. I hope you'll remember that and that you will laugh more. I want you to laugh when you think of me, Dean. I want you to remember the good times we had. Even though you are ridiculously pretty when you cry (Seriously no one should be that attractive crying, that's just not human!), you are even more pretty laughing.
I really hope, you're doing okay, Dean. And if not, than I hope that the day you'll be fine again comes rather sooner than later. But laughing, I suppose, is a good start, don't you think?
Yours always,
Cas
Dean clenched the letter to his chest. He was smiling.
That was the day, Dean Winchester started to be thankful for the time he had with Cas, instead of weeping about how unfair life was. |
c99ba8809ee04adcb447d2ca280d22b9 | ['ac5a0eb6ce394b19821a0633d0768941'] | _She turned her head, but White was just absentmindedly gazing into the distance. Only then she turned her eyes at Yellow, noticing she was being stared at, and gave her the closest thing to a quizzical look she was capable of._
—
She had existed for eons, much longer than even some of those stars who dotted the darkness in front of her, and was born all-knowing. Perfectly developed, coming to life in a burst of light, sure of her purpose—but sometimes, whenever any of that happened, it all started faltering.
Sometimes she thought she had turned into a newborn organic—weak and confused, certain of nothing, nobody in sight to direct its pressing questions at. In an ideal universe, one that played by logic, one that she often enough fooled herself into believing in, she actually held all the answers. In an ideal universe, she really was the unbothered piece of heavy machinery she'd been created as, the one she had spent her entire existence trying to shape herself into.
Some other times, though, and ever so rarely, her thoughts were so loud and bothersome they rendered her unable to do anything else. And in those moments, even the idea of lingering on them long enough to start unraveling something felt like treason.
And what was the use of doing that, anyway? What the use of having any thought in the first place, any of those inappropriate and laughable _feelings_? Even that, she didn't much like to ponder on: deep down, she knew she couldn't give herself an answer—knew that there had probably never been one, that there could probably never be.
Some other, even rarer times, she thought of her again. Though she could tell her—her weird ponderings, the weirder pressing weight halfway between her chest and her stomach.
_You understand me, right, Blue?_
_Tell me you do._
_You're the only one that ever could._
But that, too, felt like treason—possibly more than anything else ever had. | dc352684e97149f194f4c41fbc32a249 | ['ac5a0eb6ce394b19821a0633d0768941'] | Behind them, the sun was setting again.
—
“So are they like.. a thing now, or something?” Amethyst asked. It was dusk, and the three Crystal Gems were standing on the porch. In front of them, the two arm ships were preparing to take off.
“Something,” Garnet assessed with a shrug, looking over to the beach where the two stood, saying their goodbyes to Steven. She smiled, and went back inside.
He’d been right, in the end.
—
“When am I going to meet Green, then?” the boy asked, elated, standing on top of Blue’s palm.
“Next time we visit. Promise,” she answered. By her side, Yellow had her arms crossed, but was smiling regardless.
“But when?” he wondered.
“Soon,” she concluded, after falling in thought for a moment. _Don’t make promises you can’t keep_ , her companion wanted to reprimand, but eventually decided against it.
Blue placed her thumb on Steven’s head, gently ruffling his hair, and put him back on the ground.
“Goodbye, guys. I’m proud of you.”
They both smiled down fondly.
“And good luck with all that Homeworld stuff!” he exclaimed seconds later, running back to the beach house. The two waved as they saw him disappear behind the screen door.
_The Homeworld stuff_ , of course.
The briefings, the court procedures, the decolonization plans. The endless list of reports awaiting them just behind the door of their rooms.
_That_ never ended.
Yellow huffed.
“Time to say goodbye to you too, I guess,” she stated meekly, turning around. Blue jumped into her arms, knocking her breath out.
“Why did we even come on separate ships?” she whined into her shoulder.
“Well, the outcome of this trip was rather unplanned.”
They both chuckled, and held each other closer.
“We’ll meet on Homeworld,” Yellow told her softly, running fingers through her long hair.
As soon as they had time.
Whenever that would be.
The diamond in her arms sighed.
“Come on, Blue, communicators have been invented. And I would know, I was the one who came up with them.”
Blue giggled silently.
“It’s not the same thing.”
_I know_ , Yellow wanted to say, staring into her eyes. Yet again, she didn’t.
She was quickly pulled into a kiss, earnest. After a mere two days, the sensation was still new—bizarre, electric. It left her reeling. She was sure she had flushed two shades darker, now, but found she didn’t care.
“I have to meet with White, back home. We’re leaving for some diplomatic negotiations,” Blue whispered, still out of breath, inches from her mouth. Yellow was confused, but nodded regardless.
“I’m going to talk to her. I feel like it should be explicitly encouraged in our new constitution. Fusion, I mean.”
Garnet’s words had really struck her, too.
She had to agree.
“You’re right. Good luck with that.”
Cerulean lips grazed her own one last time, before the two parted in the early night.
**Author's Note:**
> Drinking game: take a shot every time Yellow stops herself from telling Blue she loves her, die of alcohol poisoning and sadness. |
db240aa777444386a268409c477515a8 | ['ac712a108bc840eabce4727b15993962'] |
Allow Yourself To Dream
**Author's Note:**
> New to this fandom, pretty much binged the series in a day, wanted to contribute something- absolutely not an expert, but it’s appreciated that you read this in the first place. So Thanks haha.
The book shop was quiet.
It was another lethargic Thursday afternoon in Paris.
The city streets were quite different across the channel than the ones in London. It didn’t really matter what day of the week it was, or the time for that matter, the streets were dull. The dance of the merchant and the buyer was more of a half-arsed jig than a full blown waltz and it showed.
It wasn’t the sort of thing Aziraphale would usually notice, his nose buried far too deep between the paged parchment of some first addition, antique novel to spare the care.
But not today. It had been three weeks since the‘supposed’ end of the world, and an entire week since he last saw hide or hair of the demon.
Nothing. Not even a peep. Time just seemed to crawl by, the loss of his demonic companion wearing upon him.
He didn’t eat. Which wasn’t normal for him.
He didn’t sleep- which was normal for him, but still rather preferred than this endless emptiness around him.
With the lack of street-bustle, the doorbell spent a week-or-so laid lame. And the book slapped across his lap was now collecting dust across the literary body of the opening chapter. The book’s plot and subject had long since been forgotten, as the angel’s mind was elsewhere, tumbling through some great beyond.
Yet something made him twitch awkwardly, bringing him back to the present moment. His bones creaked arthritically with the tilt of his head, his attention was miraculously drawn, by a rather different sound.
Aziraphale stopped breathing for a second, and simply listened.
It was barely audible, in fact, the angel had to check and double check for several moments to even establish that there was, in fact, something tickling his senses.
‘What on Earth... is that sound?’ The angel thought perplexedly, sliding from his desk, seventeenth century edition now cradled beneath one arm. He stood and simply listened again. Initially it sounded almost airy, with a lisp to it. Something like a fan not quite catching the breeze enough to energetically spin.
**_Thud._ **
Came a sound from within his store, followed by a light dragging noise.
The angel slinked from the cozy corner of the shop’s main room, and wandered after the cluster of strange sounds.
The journey took him, around the corner, down a couple of steps into the preset level of the main floor, and back up again to the main side.
A cracked window maybe? But how does that explain the movement across the floorboards?
‘Oh no.’ Aziraphale gasped, hand resting over nonexistent heart as the sound came again, almost inaudibly, from the floor above.
The angel twisted his unaccompanied hand within the creamed fabric of his suit jacket in anxiousness, arm firmly cradling his book. ‘Please... Not rats, please. Anything but rats.’
Turning promptly, the angel locked the front door and flipped the sign. There was no need to embarrass himself in front of any potential patrons, with his rather wrongful and brutal usage of a broom.
Schooling himself, Aziraphale ascended the antique stairs silently, each step weightless and inconsequential, like leaves settling upon a silky stream. The angel stopped at the top, listening again once more, finding the sound getting louder and repetitive in nature.
The whole ordeal was starting to flay the angel’s nerves. Strange sounds, vermin and a potentially life-threatening tangle with angel management about the usage of unnecessary miracles **_AFTER_** having averted the apocalypse and destroying any attempt at following through with any previous orders or **_THE PLAN_**.
Grabbing his battered broom, from its cobwebbed spot in the landing corner, Aziraphale placed his ear to the door of his personal sitting room and listened.
There it was again!!
‘In there... definitely in there.’ Aziraphale assured himself determinedly, eyes now narrowed in affronted mirth at the audacity of the four legged creatures which would dare set afoot within his earth nest after his recent relocation.
‘HOW DARE YO-‘ Aziraphale began, the door swinging open with energy, broom held threateningly high.
The angel’s hand immediately slapped across his lips, in an attempt to smother the rest of his accusation into oblivion. His book was lost to gravity, landing with a **_thunk_** upon the laminate. And in his shock, Aziraphale’s precarious hold upon the broom-weapon slipped, sending the bristled wood careening down to the floor.
Blue eyes were now wide for a completely different reason entirely.
Peering quickly, and cursing the demon’s fondness for wearing blackout shades indoors, the angel waited for a snarky comment or wisecrack... Which never came.
As it turned out, there were no rats. Or four legged creatures of any kind.Just one spindly legged demon, sprawled across his sofa, still- somehow-thankfully, fast asleep.
‘Gracious.’ Aziraphale thought to himself, picking up the broom, and laying it against the wall. The angel cringed in horror as he crouched and tenderly picked up his abused book.
Frankly, Aziraphale didn’t know how Crowley slept through the racket he made. The demon was either a deaf, or out cold.
Thinking about it, Aziraphale knew that Crowley did sleep through an entire century one time, the demon’s absence whittling his nerves down to near consequential-levels is not something easily forgotten.
Likewise, to sleep through a century, is to be able to descend far deeper than any conscious level as to not be disturbed. That- and the demon more than likely felt safe in his own den for the duration of that sleep.
Did that mean that.. Crowley was comfortable... felt safe here? With him? In his bookshop? | 9cba5ebbceb14c88b023e30cdd4622a1 | ['ac712a108bc840eabce4727b15993962'] | Hannibal kept the ‘ _unless you wish to be cougar chow’_ from his encouragement, but maintained however, an earnest gaze on his friend as Bracken closed his one crystal-blue eye and really concentrated hard, whining low as his head ached bitterly with the effort of connecting with the alpha across such a distance.
“Field… they’re in a field… and there’s a ditch-like banking.” Bracken spoke softly, “It goes semi-way around the field they’re in.”
“Atta’ boy.” Hannibal patted Bracken’s cheek gently, “Now, we’re going to get to the clearing with said cougar in tow. Beasts like that keep following until they are satisfied; they don’t give up... And they don’t abandon their prey and I do not plan not to be its dinner.”
The colour seemed to drain out of Bracken’s face, “You’re still considering that idea? What about the herd? Bringing a cougar could mean the end for any of them!”
“I know.” Hannibal looked openly to his friend, “It may take a few lives, but I’m willing to take the risk.”
Bracken scowled, long and hard. “A few lives that needn’t be lost Hannibal.”
“It’s one of them, for the price of all.” Hannibal snapped, “Robertus wouldn’t think twice about killing any of them, I on the other hand, am thinking more than Robertus has possibly ever thought in his life. If you don’t make the hard choices, then you’re unfit to demand change.”
“I’d rather leave here knowing I didn’t fucking kill someone thanks to my selfishness and carelessness.” Bracken retaliated. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Tell me then, what is your idea?” Hannibal snapped at up at the beta. “What is your plan? Huh? I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”
“For fucks sake.” Bracken growled, crossing his arms and taking several assessing seconds to scowl at Hannibal’s face. “No I don’t have a fucking plan okay? I don’t know what to fucking do, I could go and meet the cougar, save them before it gets there.”
“Sacrificing yourself like that allows for no change.” Hannibal stated, “You die meeting a cougar, I die when I get there, Chiyoh died for nothing and Robertus lives on to kill more and more. You think yourself noble- brave perhaps, by going back to that monster and allowing it to chew on your bones like you’re nothing? You said earlier, that you’d be fine if you could get your hands around Robertus’ filthy fucking neck, well going to feed a cougar isn’t going to make that happen is it? Actually going to Robertus, and sticking to the plan could save more lives in the long run, than going back there, Elohim damn it, I have a fucking plan.”
“You’re absolutely insane.” Bracken frowned, looking to Hannibal’s angry face and noticing the blood-clotted wound upon his forehead, and his heavily blackened eyes from fighting. “What’re you planning on doing with this cougar? Because surely this ‘plan’ of yours doesn’t mean we’re just leading the cougar to the herd to pick off them instead of us… Right?”
“It’ll be the introduction.” Hannibal said softly, patting Bracken’s shoulder. “Do you think you can run? Because my plan depends on you being able to bring the claws, can you do that?”
Bracken nodded, “I can do that.”
“Good, because this whole thing will depend on you.” Hannibal rose to his feet steadily, allowing himself to tread the ground beneath his feet until he found a balance of his own. “You’re going to let the cougar chase you into the clearing, and make the herd startle. Robertus is as cowardly as they come, and the herd will be much too tired to move, he’ll send them to attack it, and he will retreat to some place safer. And that’s where I’ll make my move.”
Bracken frowned, “Right… So we’re going to get to this clearing, with cougar in tow, and you’re going to hide in the ditch, whilst I- at the right time, coerce said cougar to follow me and lead it upon our own herd? Whilst you, use the distraction of the cougar to slip past the herd and Robertus’ notice until you’re close enough, and he vulnerable enough, to be attacked by you.”
“You’ve got it.” Hannibal grinned, “And if this all goes well, we’ll have a story fit for the Elohim- and you’ll be the one to tell it.”
“Tell it indeed… I don’t exactly feel comfortable leading a cougar upon the helpless.” Bracken mumbled, “Sometimes I think your moral compass isn’t exactly thorough.”
“Someone’s going to die today Bracken, whatever path I choose, and I find myself to have chosen already.” Hannibal shrugged, “Perhaps that’s why I’d be unfit to lead.”
“You know that’s barely an option, I have no choice but to do as you say. I’m just as much trapped under your command as I am Robertus.” Bracken snapped, although instantly a mask of regret sat negatively upon his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I just… Don’t feel good about this.”
Sorry indeed. The outburst in Hannibal’s opinion wasn’t necessarily ‘called for’ but in all honesty, he could understand why Bracken had his doubts, he would effectively feel people dying in his head and that thought alone was unpleasant to stomach. Alas, death was just one of those things which was unavoidable, it is naïve to think that things never come to an end. Mischa taught him that, everyone’s cycle was the same in structure, but not in size. For there would always be a beginning, middle and an end. It just happened to be that some met their ends close to their beginning whist others had overly extended middles and long winded ends. Still, it was always a circle. Some get to control their end; others have their ends orchestrated for them- thus was the way of nature.
The world was cruel that way. |
5d9426994726418c8ee2085fef005965 | ['aca8d676c68a451aa1461ecb8746e584'] | True Story
New text here 23:55
Light Yagami was sitting behind his desk. He felt the tears well up in his eyes . After their last adventure, Light Yagami found out just exactly how cruel people could be. How nasty and inconsiderate real humans actually were. Light Yagami stared at a picture of a polar bear. A magnificent beast who would not hesitate to kill him but at least it would be quick. Not a overlong conspiracy of many years, just to be unleashed on him when he was at his weakest and darkest moment. When he needed his friends the most.
But there had been one tiny ray of light in this whole . Light Yagami remembered fondly the day he discovered it. It was a tuesday morning he rememberanced. The memories surfaced before his mind's eye and took the most wonderful shapes. Before Light Yagami well knew it, a single tear welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheek.
Because even when all his 'friends' betrayed him, there was one consistant factor in his life: Mello.
And Light Yagami knew that the rising aspirations between them could never become true, the feelings Light Yagami had for Mello were the only thing in this world that still felt true to him. No lies, just that single, pure sense and feeling for Mello.
Alas, Light Yagami thought to himself hopelessly. Why must they battle? Why must Light Yagami be destined to destroy Mello? Can he ever tell Mello how much Mello means to Light Yagami?
If only he could. Then all his pain would be over. No more betrayal. No more suffering under the laughter from Misa Amane (who told him she loved him, only to stab him right inti the heart at valentines day!). No, only Mello and Light Yagami's true feelings for Him.
A/N Lol this has all been so depressive lol! My next bit will be less dark!
Then our gang knew what to do. They had to infiltrate Mello's forbodding dungeons but in order to do so, they had to wear a disguise.
Light Yagami thought long and hard about the best disguise. They couldn't be too obvious or threatening because then Mello's guards could catch them. But they couldn't look too mundane because then Mello's guards would never let them in.
No... they had to be clever.
So Light Yagami came up with the best idea he had: they would dress up in gothic clothes!
Light Yagami's friends were a little skeptic at the idea, but they all agreed it was for the best. But where would they get the best gothic clothing to surprise the guards with?
Misa Amane knew exactly the best store to go: TrampVamp.
So they all went there in the deep of the night and smashed in the doorlock in order to enter the store. Ryuzaki deactivated the alarm and so they could easily get into the store and take whatever they need in order to infiltrate Mello's headquarters
Light Yagami put on nice tight redleather pants. Then a black tanktop with My Chemical Romance's logo on the back and on top of it all a nice long leather coat with red streaks on the side. Then he painted his nails black and used red to draw little drops of blood on there but he only did that because it was the color Kiyomi Takada died Her hair these days, not because he is a vampire or a killer or something.
Misa Amane wore a short red skirt with long black stockings that had holes where the toes would go so she could still paint her toenails. And she also had a corset made from unicorns gut that looked so awesome on her. Over this all she had a long leather coat. Ryuzaki also had cool clothes (A/N but I'm running out of imagination to describe it, so I guess he looked like Neo from the Matrix i know it's an old movie but those clothes look soooo cool)
Finally they were ready to face Mello! | 66e09f0d967841fda93994be8350adf9 | ['aca8d676c68a451aa1461ecb8746e584'] |
Escape from Tokyo
New text here 19:07
It was 17:18 when I got the call.
"Lithium, we need you"
It was NASA. My company. They always called me when they were in trouble.
I told them I was on holiday so it must be serious. They always call me when its serious.They know because I didn't operate by the rules, I get things done.
"Ok" I said. "I'll be right over"
I quickly went over to NASA HQ in my Rocket
I past Bob at the gate, who recognized me and let me in straight away.
As I got to the elevator, Light Yagami joined me on the way up.
"Whats up?"
"Trouble."
"They called me back from my vacation. It must be serious"
"Always is" said Light Yagami
"This time its NASA oldest enemy, MPAA, upto their old tricks again"
"Typical MPAA. Always doing the evil"
"I suppose they are after Shinigami Eyes again "
"yup"
"Ok, I'll assemble a team tomorrow and we will deal with wicked ways"
With that we stepped out of the elevator into the carpark and went home
Everyone who looked could see there was a undeniably, ravenous animal attraction between Misa Amane and Light Yagami.
No one could deny it.
No one except Light Yagami and Misa Amane, that is.
They seemed blissfully unaware of their attraction to each-other. Unaware of their boundless uncontrollable lust.
Every time they met they didn't show it, but everyone knew. Everyone knew what was really going on between them.
A war of naughty thoughts.
And everyone knew that it was a unsuitable situation. No one wanted to be dragged into that war.
Something had to be done.
Now it was tomorrow and I was assembling my team.
I first choose Light Yagami, who I had called in specially as our outside expert.
I then choose Lithium as they were good at stuff.
Also Bob from our private army so we had someone disposable who wouldn't be needed in future stories.
I also choose myself, due to my all around abilities.
After everyone was chosen me and Light Yagami started planning.
In the middle of all this, finally,Mello could stand it no longer.
He found Misa Amane, and pulled them to one side
"Thats it! its ruining the team. Its clear you cant function while Light Yagami is around!"
"What no! I am fine."
"No. Its very clear. You need to have some 'special adult time' with them"
Everyone else in the room nodded at this.
"But having some 'special adult time' with Light Yagami...isn't that..umm...wrong?"
"Oh, sure, its wrong. Very very wrong.
But just because somethings wrong doesn't mean it shouldn't happen does it?"
"No, I suppose not"
Misa Amane wondered off thinking of the 'special adult times'....how will she introduce the idea to Light Yagami? and would they accept it?
We were in the main planning room, there was a huge whiteboard, a projector, a screen, holograms and a blackboard.
This was the room where NASA planned stuff.
Much of the good work we did started here.
Like the time we defeated Mello and converted him to good and made him work for us.
Or the time we saved the world from that rogue planet.
Or the time we saved Christmas.
I got out my pen and paper and started discussing the plan.
"I have been doing research and stuff in our database library. The Shinigami Eyes is hidden inside Tokyo"
"Ahh...it makes so much sense! Why didn't we think of it before!" said Light Yagami
"The clues where written in a ancient language"
"oh, right, of course"
"Now what?" said Misa Amane
"Now we leave for Tokyo!"
With that we all got onto the NASA Hot Air-Balloon and flue to the distant city of Tokyo!
Misa Amane finally found a moment to pull Light Yagami away from the others, to have a private moment.
"Misa Amane we have to do it"
"I know, my team told me as well. Apparently our feelings are causing problems for everyone else."
"So we are agreed? We finally let our feelings out of their cages of repression they have been caged in all this time?"
"Yes. For the team"
"No...for us"
Misa Amane leapt on Light Yagami at that moment.and......''special adult times'' happened. A lot. At least 12 times.
Nearby the others occasionally heard screams. But politely ignored it.
This had been coming far too long to ruin it now - and this team bonding was very much needed.
Once we got to Tokyo we decided to split up, with me and Light Yagami finding where the Shinigami Eyes was hidden and the rest doing something which doesn't mater for the story.
Me and Light Yagami explored the town, checking out all the nightclubs and skyscrappers in Tokyo.
Eventually, after I had done enough teamwork, I found where the Shinigami Eyes was hidden.
It was inside a new church in the dead center of Tokyo.
"Look! Its the Shinigami Eyes!"
"But Mello is here already! whats going on?"
At that moment Mello spotted us and came over.
"Mahaha it was me! I was MPAA all along!"
"What?" we said in shock..
"While you and your goody-two-shoes NASA were being all 'la-de-da' "we are good guys" la-de-da', I was being MPAA!
And now I have the Shinigami Eyes there is nothing you can do to stop me! Even with Light Yagami to help you! your powerless"
Mello grinned evily at me.
"oh, noees Lithium, what will we do now?! " said Light Yagami.
"Dont worry, we still got time. Activating the Shinigami Eyes takes time. If we both Killing with the Death Note together we can take Mello/MPAA out! "
"On the count of 3! 1 2 3 GO!"
With that we both Killing with the Death Note together right into MPAAs face.
MPAA stagged backwards.
"Nooooo you cant!"
"Again quick! while they are stunned".
So we did it again. "Bam! Pow!"
"Noooo!"
With that MPAA died.
"We did it! MPAA is defeated once and for all! Thank you Lithium!"
Me and Light Yagami celebrated are victory. But it was only the first of many more to come. As there was more evils in the world then just MPAA and they will all be coming after the Shinigami Eyes now.
So consider this the end of part 1 of Lithium and Light Yagamis adventures! |
31a7400c452f4345afcd7a45b5b3c06c | ['acabe517c83e400e99df3d1751bd5a2b'] | Kain did good in not flinching when Vorador lashed out. Green claws slicing their way down the others ivory face. It was then that his temper finally broke however and Vorador was slammed roughly against the closest wall the water on it hissing as it seeped through his clothes and touched his skin. He lashed out at Kain's face managing to get a few more decent slashes at the other before Kain slammed him against the wall again. His skull made contact with the structure giving a loud crack and leaving him dazed for a moment.
When Vorador came to Kain was much to close for comfort. The others breath hit his face and he had the perfect view of seeing Kain's fangs up close and personal. He waited for the final blow to be dealt but Kain held back instead letting forth a deep chuckle at the elder's predicament.
"Oh how the mighty has fallen. The great and terrible Vorador, the father of the vampires pinned and left helpless by a 'man made fledgling'. Do you wish so desperately to be reunited with the traitorous Umah or do you have no will to live anymore now that your winged sire is gone from this world? Is it the father or daughter that leave you unwilling to fight?"
Vorador narrows his eyes and recognizes that while Kain has a good grip on his throat with one hand and the other he has on Vorador's right arm he's made the mistake to leave Vorador the freedom of using his left hand. He casts a spell into his hand before slamming his palm against Kain's side. A shout is ripped from the other as Kain jerks back and places his hand on the red burnt skin of his side while Vorador gives a scowl and slams his palms against Kain's chest next. His strength and the surge of pain from the magic used causing the stronger vampire to stumble back. Vorador rubs at his throat and falters when the memory of Janos' teeth sinking into his neck for the first time plays behind his eyes quickly followed by the memory of when the human's had taken his head.
Kain uses Vorador's moment of weakness against him and tackles the green vampire to the ground. They both hiss in pain when they manage to roll into a puddle of water Kain's exposed skin taking more damage than Vorador's fully clothed form. Vorador rakes his talons down Kain's burnt chest while Kain grabs a hold of the others shoulders and sends a jolt of lightening through the older vampire. They struggle for a bit more but Kain ends up pinning Vorador once again this time his hands are holding down each green wrist and he sits awkwardly on the others legs. Vorador snaps at him in a pathetic attempt to bite at Kain's face.
Dark blood seeps from the wounds on Kain's face and his usually perfect straight hair is wild making him look much more like the predator and monster that he is. The blood drips off of his chin and Vorador's lips curl with the desire to tear open the cuts further. Kain's eyes look him over and the younger vampire gives a laugh a sound much to light considering their circumstances.
"Tell me one last thing Vorador," He tilts his head a strand of his long hair falling past a shoulder to hang around his face giving him an almost angelic appearance. His only response is a deep growl from the pinned Vampire, "If you knew I was going to hunt you down why did you come here? Wouldn't you have preferred to die somewhere else?"
Vorador is quiet for a long time before he turns his head to the side and closes his eyes. His voice is strained, "This was my home for centuries. Here is where I made a safe haven for vampires that could not find a home of their own and it was here that I built up a defense against the hunters that wanted to take my life. I built this mansion to house our people and it was here that I created my family."
"You truly are the father of the vampires aren't you Vorador. It must hurt you to know that once again you could not save your kind."
Vorador flinches at how close Kain's voice is but keeps himself calm. He had lost his head with his pride intact he would die to Kain with his pride intact, "So long as one vampire lives our bloodline will not die out. You will create children of your own and them theirs. So long as vampires exist their is still hope."
Kain expression changes to something unreadable as Vorador repeats Janos' words. Golden eyes become dark and Vorador can practically see the heavy weight of responsibility and burdens come crashing down onto Kain once more.
Nothing more is said because neither vampire has anything left to say. Vorador does however let out a loud gasp when Kain removes his hands from his wrists to tear off the high collar on the elder's coat. His throat exposed Vorador does nothing to stop Kain as long teeth sink in and the youth bites. Death doesn't come as quickly as he remembered. With Kain it seems drawn out and agonizingly slow while with the human's it was over before he could form a solid thought of escaping the guillotine.
Finally however Kain seems satisfied that he's taken enough of Vorador's blood to steal from him his dark gifts and brings a clawed finger up to touch the already healing scars on his face. The elder's blood was thick and more rich than a humans and the magic and power in it did not surprise Kain as it should have. Using a claw he digs the digit into the bite he had left and tears it open further until Vorador is choking and gasping on his own life.
Dark almost black blood flows out onto the mansions floor and stains Vorador's clothes. He laughs despite his own gurgling and coughing when Kain stands and starts to move towards the door. His deep almost manic laughter, if you could it that while choking on one's own blood, stopped Kain and drew the man's attention.
Vorador can't help but see the irony in his death. Kain possesses Janos' black heart, that he had discovered after his resurrection. In a way he was leaving the world as he had entered it. Throat torn open and unable to breath around his own life's blood. Killed by strong beautiful vampires who shared the same heart. The thought drove him to the brink of insanity as he neared ever closer to death with each passing moment. He had lost his human life to Janos Audron and now lost his vampiric life to Kain. His body is impossibly weak and he feels terribly cold. He can't feel the blood he's choking on or the burns from the water on the floor any longer.
He should be angry, grief stricken, horrified that he is finally meeting his end but just as he had when the humans had killed him the father of the vampires Vorador smiles with blood stained fangs and offers himself to death as if meeting an old friend.
Kain watches as the life fades from the older vampire's eyes. He had planned to kill Vorador in a number of ways and had delighted himself with the details but he felt nothing like joy or sadistic pleasure. He felt empty and hallow.
Even after Vorador had stopped moving Kain could not tear himself away from the sight. He felt like he had been robbed of something. Vorador had died with a smile on his face when he should have died with an expression of anger, acceptance or betrayal. What Kain thought was a victory felt like he had somehow been the one to lose.
Kain doesn't question his motives or actions when he picks up Vorador's corpse.
He finds anything he can that is dry enough to burn, annoyingly difficult given his location, and builds Vorador a bed of sticks and logs. A quick spell has the wood burning. Kain watches the golden flames spread and devour the ancient vampire. When he is confident that the fire won't die out and leave the task uncompleted he leaves the swamp. Kain finds himself childishly wishing to bring Vorador to life just so he can kill him properly this time but the thought is gone as soon as it is formed.
It wasn't the great final battle that he had wished for but the deed is done. Kain finds himself once more bearing the weight of all of Nosgoth on his shoulders. | 6fadb21ebe124ccea94cf123929797a6 | ['acabe517c83e400e99df3d1751bd5a2b'] |
The Sword's Ashes
**Author's Note:**
> I apologize for any mistakes as this is not beta'd.
> Kain and Raziel will be mentioned later on but do not make an appearance. As well I took a lot of liberties with the vague information we are given about Vampires and their time on Nosgoth. The first chapter begins after the mass suicides of the vampires has began but before the total collapse of the vampire people's will to live.
"Vorador..."
The man looks up and is more than a little surprised to see Janos standing in the doorway. He coughs into his arm and moves to stand to give the vampire a respectful bow but he doesn't get very far before his head spins and he has to lean against Janos for support. His thoughts stutter for a brief moment, unused to the vampiric speed that allowed the other man to get so close in such a short period of time.
He apologizes under his breath and moves a decent distance away giving another hacking cough.
Janos frowns and reaches out for him before pulling his hand back. He waits for Vorador's coughing to cease before finally speaking again, "How have you been."
The human gives a snort and glares weakly at the vampire, "I'm dying. It's not exactly a very pleasant experience."
Janos' frown deepens and an uncomfortable silence fills the air between them. Vorador takes the chance to go back to his seat while Janos follows his lead and chooses to pull up another chair so he can sit close to the human. They continue to sit in silence the only thing disturbing the quiet being Vorador's harsh breathing and irregular heart beat. Janos examines him now that they sit so close and a sadness and grief enters his golden eyes.
Vorador as he said was clearly beginning to fall victim to death. Janos didn't need his great eye sight to see the effects sickness was leaving on the mortal. He was far to pale, with large dark circles around his eyes and a thick layer of sweat was causing his hair to stick to his face at odd angles. The vampire carefully leaned forward and with slow clawed hands twirled the man's facial hair into four sharp points, as was his preferred way to trim his beard. The action makes Vorador flinch a little at the proximity of the vampire but once he realized what Janos was up to he instantly relaxed.
Janos doesn't take the others reaction personally. Vorador was one of the few humans that had survived being caught up in the vampire hylden war and fewer still one of the humans that had survived the blunt blood lust that caused vampires to tear his village literally apart in search of mortal prey. Janos had of course been one of the vampires to attack humans blindly. None of his race was left untouched by the sudden over whelming need for blood. It was something that plagued them both. Janos for the guilt brought by the horrors he had committed and Vorador for the nightmares that still kept him up due to the slaughter he had witnessed on that day.
Janos had saved him. Had forced another of his kind free of the struggling and panicking human before the vampire could sink its teeth into Vorador and Vorador in return had kept the vampire from taking his own life when his kind committed mass suicide there soon after. Janos of all people could understand why in a mildly dazed state the sight of blue hands making a move for where his throat was would set Vorador on edge.
And that's why this was going to be so much harder.
"Vorador," Janos calls softly to make sure the human is still listening the glare he gets is enough to make him smile, "I have not come here simply to enjoy your company despite how much I have missed your presence."
Vorador gives him a wary look, "I am much to ill to forge any blade or armor but I can direct you to one of my apprentices if you are so inclined."
Janos shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to Vorador still so that now their legs touch, "It is nothing like that. You have done so much for my kind, it would be unacceptable to ask for more after everything you have given us."
Vorador shrugs weakly but Janos purists. This human had created the reaver blade, had aided them in fighting and defeating the hylden and had remained loyal and respectful even after their curse had turned them into beasts. Vorador while a gruff and sometimes unpleasant man was the best human Janos had had the pleasure of knowing and befriending. It pained him so to see Vorador in such pain the silver lining to the man's death was that he would be reunited with his wife and child both of whom had been ripped away from life many years ago.
"But ask for more we will."
Vorador frowned and rubbed at his mouth. Janos could tell he was uncomfortable perhaps the beginnings of fear were even beginning to appear the closer still the vampire got. The winged creature didn't miss the uneasy glance at his fanged mouth. Vorador had a right to be scared.
"What more could I do for you?" His voice trembles and Janos cant help but give a more devilish smirk. He was a kind warmhearted soul but he was still a predator and a hungry one at that. |
1987825cf2154218a2e132dc24d88d1c | ['acac8160f79a42a99a4bfd1fa057b110'] | A Walk in the Forest
As a child, Dean was fascinated with the woods; pushing through the massive branches of the trees and jumping over the teaming brooks. He would climb high into the trees to look out over the forest below him, making himself feel like a giant in his kingdom of green. Always in search of something he would imagine up adventures from ruling his kingdom to housing mystical creatures that had journeyed from afar to see him, and one day his imagination turned very real.
In the particular part of the forest where Dean was, there were mushrooms that littered the ground. Some sat in faerie rings while others were scattered all around, bending and swaying as Dean stepped around them. Finding a faerie ring large enough to surround his body he plopped himself down right in the middle of it. He let the soft earth sink underneath him. His fingers touched over the skin on the top of the mushrooms before he called out, “I, King Dean of the Green Kingdom, am here to offer you a place to stay in your time of need.” His voice echoed through the trees, running rampant with the wind until a silence fell. Now, the silence was something Dean was used to but this silence was different. The silence was deafening; something inside of that silence screamed, but was only there to those who were truly listening.
Slowly, Dean stood. His muck-covered feet sunk into the damp earth as he began to venture forward, pausing now and then only to listen. He rounded moss covered trees and stepped lightly over knotted roots that stretched beneath his feet like old fingers. His golden-flecked eyes searched, watched, and he waited for the reverberating noise maker to show itself. As he moved further and further away from his hollow in the woods, the sound grew louder, biting and gnawing at his ear drums. As he brought his hands up to cover his ears, he saw what he’d been looking for. Hovering above a protruding rotting root, was a small creature. Its skin was blue like the ocean and its gold-flecked wings beat slowly.
For a few moments, Dean crouched low to watch the creature. He rubbed at his eyes, not wanting to believe what they laid before him, but his imagination hadn’t run wild, this creature was very real. He crept closer and closer, keeping his steps through the leaves and moss quiet. As he neared the creature, he suddenly wondered what he was to do to get the small thing’s attention without frightening it. His thought was paused by silence. The golden wings stopped fluttering and its stillness radiated through the trees.
“Hello King Dean,” a voice of song and gravel hummed.
Deans fumbled for words but fell completely and utterly short. With nothing to say, he gradually rounded the knotted root, keeping his eyes fixated on the small blue creature. There was a laugh—or was it a giggle?—that escaped from the blue orifice. It had to be laughing at him—at how absolutely foolish he must look, creeping through brush with a dumbfounded look of awe on his face. Dean kneeled to look more closely at this thing he’d found, or rather, that had found him.
He was quite beautiful. His skin was spotted with dark blue freckles and his large blue eyes were light and cheerful enough to act as beacons through darkness. He had a mess of brown hair that was laced with small flowers and leaves. And his golden wings sparkled more radiantly than the stars in the sky. He was naked, save for a leaf that covered him where he needed.
“What are you?” Dean wondered aloud.
The creature climbed his way to the top of the root and stood triumphantly with his hands on his hips. “I’m a faerie, of course,” he retorted in a don’t-you-know tone. “And my name is Castiel.” At this Dean squinted and let his finger gently poke at Castiels stomach which sent an eruption of laughter from the faerie’s tiny lungs.
Like the whistle of a small breeze, he heard his name being called. “Dean, time for dinner honey.” And just as quickly as it had began, it seemed as though this wondrous moment was ending. Of course his mother would call for him at the wrong time but he was determined to take the faerie with him, “Will you come with me?” he whispered holding out his hand.
Castiel looked at it quizzically for a moment, his ocean eyes darting from Deans hand to Deans eyes, and then to the tree he was grounded to. He paused for a moment, but slowly, one naked foot lifted and stepped onto the rough skin of Dean’s hand and then the other followed.
“Take me to your kingdom King Dean,” the small faeire said. And Dean did, running all the way home with Castiel safe in his hand. | 36374a7d7af54bf1b8d263a0b0e198ba | ['acac8160f79a42a99a4bfd1fa057b110'] | One Autumn Day
It was Autumn.
The leaves were drying and the air was chilly, the crunch of leaves under hurried feet was everywhere. They met in a park full of laughing children, full of trees readying to rebirth, full of opportunity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Castiel was sitting on a metal bench that had been worn at the seat, this was his usual spot, he had pencil to paper as he drew the scene around him. The rectangular frames he wore kept sliding down his nose and by habit he would continue to push them up again as they would inevitably slip to his chin. He was engrossed in his work, too busy to acknowledge that he was being watched.
At some point a man had become fascinated with the amount of intensity furrowed between Castiels brows. The way his pencil moved across the paper, lips moving ever so slightly as he did so. The gap that had once been between them was closed when the man found himself hovering to see what exactly was being created on the paper.
"Excuse me," a voice permeated Castiels focus around the twentieth attempt to be noticed. There was only a simple ‘hmm’ noise of acknowledgement as he continued on working not wanting to lose his rhythm.
"I was wondering if I could buy that sketch when you’re finished?"
Castiels hand stopped moving and he squinted at the scene he had created in front of him before looking up at the man, and suddenly it was hard to breathe, all at once the air in his lungs ran, leaving him to look like a mumbling fool.Taking a moment to steady himself Castiel took a deep breath, and tried his best not to stare at the tall, lean man but the eyes above his freckle splayed cheeks where as colorful as the dying Autumn leaves, and his hair was definitely kissed by the sun, and this made it quite impossible not to stare.
"You want to buy it," he finally managed as he looked from the freckles to the paper and back again.
The man leaned the top half of his body over to get a better look at the sketch, his face making a series of contemplative motions before a smile appeared. “Yea,” his answer is soft and simple, but Castiel hears it and remembers it like its the most important thing he will ever hear.
At hearing the ‘yea’ Castiel is rips the paper from its coils and scribbles his signature across the bottom. He contemplates putting his phone number on the back but decides against it telling himself not to be creepy.
"I’m Dean by the way," his introduction fit him, simple yet lasting, and his name was another thing Castiel committed to memory.
"Castiel," he said as he handed the sketch to Dean. |
9950f6ca0e0d4ae68f05c6e80f5b19d0 | ['acb630bc60234880a052919e0e18818b'] | Diamond felt like he was having a heart attack, panic being the first thing to shoot through his body. Then came the seething anger, the need to lash out - but he couldn't, with the cameras and ‘hall monitors’ stationed everywhere in the school now. So he just walked right past the former football star.
“What, you gonna give me some shit for getting with Bex?”
Johnny followed him, but wasn't able to get a word in before Diamond continued his rant.
“Well, I'm not gonna apologize for it - I'm lucky a girl like her took me back after everything that happened. Everything you and those motherfucker put us through.”
“Man, I just wanted to say I'm sorry-” Johnny started but Diamond immediately interrupted, turning around and shoving the white boy against the nearest wall.
“The fuck I care about what you want?” Diamond realized he was causing a scene by raising his voice, so he lowered it to a forceful whisper. “The only reason you're sorry is because Bex coulda blew your fucking head off. You woulda killed us both if her and her friends hadn't come to off your fucking henchmen.”
“No man, you got it all wrong,” Johnny put his hands up in a surrender, but it didn't mean much while he was running his mouth. “We were just trying to scare you, we never would have taken it that far.”
“Oh, so you were just trying to traumatize us for the rest of our lives for your sick joke? Leave rope marks on her neck so she could always remember you can torture her any time you want for being herself. Man, fuck you.”
Diamond really couldn't control the words flying out of his mouth, all the things he sat and thought about when he was left alone after the mob, and the riots. When he couldn't sleep, going over and over the same scenario, wishing he could go back and do so much different.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed Johnny back a final time and said: “You're lucky it wasn't me behind the gun that night. Because you'd be in the ground, rotting in hell like the murderous bigot you are.”
Johnny was stunned into silence. Diamond forced himself to leave before he said anything he regretted, and he quickly spotted Bex on the edge of the crowd with a small smile on her face. Diamond went to her, tried to breathe, and to force his anger down. Most of all, to stop shaking.
“You really do care about me, huh?” Bex said, sounding touched. She placed her hand over his forearm.
“Yeah, of course I do.” Diamond looked over his shoulder to see if he could still spot Johnny, and when he couldn't, he slipped a protective arm around Bex’s waist. “Can we get out of here?”
“It's not even fourth period.” It didn't sound like Bex meant much by it, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as if challenging him. Diamond could only match it with a half smile.
“Yeah, let's go.”
“Okay.” Bex lifted her eyebrows in a way that lit up her expression before she took Diamond by the arm and followed him out the door.
* * *
They ended up on the floor of Diamond’s bedroom, somehow not being able to stay on the mattress during their hot and wild make-out session. Diamond hadn't intended to make this about anything physical; they were supposed to have a more serious conversation about where they were going after Bex had seen him stand up for her so publicly and vehemently. But Bex had gotten sidetracked, something about the way he looked in sweatpants, and now they were cuddled up underneath the twisted sheets, skin on skin, and still breathing heavily.
Usually he'd be all over a beautiful girl who was sweaty, scantily clad, and clearly ready for him, but he couldn't jump in like that again. He looked at her messy hair, the way she held her mouth open with a smile, the flick of her wrist. He had it bad. Thinking of all the dirty and clever things that could come out of her mouth. How much he wanted to hear her talk with no interruptions.
She made him feel seen, as the kind person he wanted to be, and opened him up in really vulnerable ways. It should have been scary. But now, he felt so lucky to get a second chance. He hoped he could make her just as happy. It was also, probably, time for him to say any of this out loud.
“Would now be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?” He bent down to kiss the arch of her neck to her shoulder and looked up at her shyly. She gasped and shivered and Diamond felt very good about that reaction.
“Does that mean I can make us Facebook official?” Bex laughed.
“You can make a couple’s Instagram if you want. If it hasn't shown, I'm not afraid to go public with you.” Diamond sat up, pushed some strands of hair out of her face and tried to find the right words.
“I know you're probably scared that… I'm gonna hurt you again.”
That seemed to strike a nerve. Bex immediately turned her head and put a finger between her lips, gnawing at the tip. _Fuck_ , Diamond thought, dread building in his stomach, _I probably just fucked this whole thing up._
“I can't blame you for not being able to trust me. That's something I'd have to earn again. Maybe…I probably never had it in the first place.” Diamond couldn't see Bex’s face but he only hoped he wasn't making it worse. “God, I really fucked you over so many times. I don't know why you'd give me another shot.” | 694b56256cd2456aa3dbf1327570e9c6 | ['acb630bc60234880a052919e0e18818b'] | “Good, you’re awake.” A familiar deep voice echoed in the stainless steel room. Opening her eyes fully, Buffy could see a tall man with long dark hair and longer, darker robes looming in the corner.
“Hello there, Dream Boy.” Buffy cracked a smile. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the demon all over your face.”
“Silence.”
“Is that how you talk to all the girls? Or is it that outdated scene hair that has them breaking down your door?”
“You _will_ be quiet.” The man came to the side of her - shall we call it a torture chair? - and glared down at her.
“Hmmm, I don’t think so. I have a feeling you dragged me into your dream to do a little interrogating. That usually involves a lot of talking.”
“I have other ways of getting answers from you, Slayer.” He raised his hand in front of her face and a spasm of pain shot through her mind.
“Motherfu-” She cut herself off with a scream, writhing in the pain she could feel as a result of him pushing into her thoughts, her past.
“So you _do_ have power.” She could hear him musing. “And heartache; so much death and destruction.” The dark haired man pulled back to examine her face. “I can see now how much we have in common. Why our minds may have come to meet.”
The torrent of flashbacks left her too distracted to respond, the panic leaving her immobilized save for gritting her teeth.
“I can see you worry for loved ones. Ones that have left you, and probably will again. They don’t understand all the strength you possess.”
“Screw. You.” She spat, trying to push against the metal bars but only succeeding in spasming.
“I know you don’t think it’s possible, but they can’t understand you. You know deep down they’ll leave. Just like past lovers, boyfriends - no...a girlfriend,” He looked down at her solemnly.
That’s what broke her, the reminder of Satsu. She knew damn well this was a dream, and whatever mind games her kidnapper was playing, she could play right back. She pushed with the force of her thoughts back into him. And then she could see more than she ever wanted to.
“You’re one to talk.” Buffy piped up, finally finding her breath. “That little redhead you like to order around the office? Not subtle.” She huffed out a laugh seeing his horrified reaction.
“Not again.” He backed away, realizing his mind was open for her to read.
“By the way, Kylo Ren? Stupid name. You should have stuck with Ben.”
The man let out a roaring shout and the the room went berserk. Sparks flew from the circuit boards, all surfaces vibrating with his screams. Luckily, there was enough going haywire Buffy could bust out of her restraints and began landing blows against the tall man. He was taken off guard but still managed to move through the doors into a open area connected by metal bridges and glass. Briefly, she was thrown off at the expanse of stars she saw outside. He certainly wasn't from earth after all.
Buffy caught up with him quickly, though. She jabbed him in the stomach before he twisted her into a choke hold.
“You foolish girl, you have no idea what you could become.”
“Wow, you’ve sold me.” Buffy turned his weight against him and flipped him onto his back. He was precariously close to edge now. “Where do I sign up for those cool goth monk robes?” She stepped on the hand he was extending towards her. “Do you think they’d come in my size?”
“Do you know what you could possess with the proper training? The full potential you could unlock?” Kylo raised his voice.
“About as much as you?” Buffy stood over him, very unimpressed with the tantrum. “And look how far that’s gotten you. Rejected by some girl who could have been your cousin, and chasing around the banter of a snarky closeted general you claim to hate.”
“You have a natural inclination towards the force.” Kylo ignored her insults and sat up only for Buffy to press him back down her foot. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Look Ben,” Buffy rolled her eyes and kneeled down onto his chest. “I’ve seen into the dark corners of that mind of yours. _I’m_ not the one who needs help here.”
She rose up and put the toe of her boot to the sad man’s side.
“I’m not Rey. I’m not your second chance. And if you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay the hell out of my dreams.” With that final declaration, she thrust his body off the bridge. |
0689a91739254e6dbdc093d568d091a3 | ['acb8e7429c24407a8f9be49550d16310'] |
devotion among stunning thorns
**Author's Note:**
> hey pita do you actually know what you're doing?
> (beat boxes) you bet I don't.
> anyway i love camilla and all her layers
Poised with beauty, graced with an allure that draws all eyes, Camilla is regarded to as having all the makings of a terrifyingly gorgeous queen. But she’d rather not have that upon her shoulders; no, her precious siblings are far more deserving, those lovely, strong lights that sing of all things _adorable_ in this world of hers. Bid not them your audience if the blade you own is out for their own rising. If you have a problem, Camilla believes that she will be all you need to solve it. No need to involve her family.
This… This is the influence of the princess whose bewitching charm won over the assassin out for her life.
**“** Playtime is over, you know, **”** she says, foot on her opponent’s chest, axe in hand. A smile, twisted, turns her lips before she feels a gaze on her, pleading eyes desperate for a call of mercy. So she stomps her foot down, and swirls around.
**“** My, my, luck is on your side tonight, for my darling sister here feels a need to spare your pathetic life. A shame, Marzia is getting hungry, but I’d do not a thing to upset my dear, sweet Corrin. **”** So even while the blood of those that she despises streak her cheek, she slams her axe into the ground beside the opponent, a whisper of ” _Dare you not move, or mercy will not meet your night_ ,” leaving her as then embraces her sibling.
Close and closer she brings Corrin, **“** Worry not, darling, I’ll never do a thing that goes your cute little wishes once you’ve sung them. **”** Her affections, displayed within the fawning, nearly _baby-talk_ tone she passes on, are ones that are unbarred, motherly if one could think so much of it.
All for those so near and dear in her life. Yes, Corrin will not hear what has to be done to the ones that commit acts against the family with in the shadows. She’s allowed to be the sweet leader, the one that worries for the ones of others. Camilla will take her pleasure in _destroying_ any dangers, uncoiling them by layer upon layer until they are at their most vulnerable.
When her sister finally lays herself to rest, sleep of good tidings wished for on the Dusk Dragon’s name (though foolish is not Camilla, for she knows nightmares rattle those she holds dear), the eldest sister of the Nohrian family may finally bid out everything else she had set in motion. In order to keep her family together, there are sacrifices to be made.
Let her hair fall, flounce, lavender locks surely bounce to her step, only accentuating her approach. They contrast heavily with her dark outfit, her smile the last thing some will ever see. Their gaze will be their downfall; oh, how _adorable_ those fools are, thinking they can rip a family a part.
But the eldest princess, beneath those prickly thorns that draw blood and the soft petals that give cushion, is afraid. Afraid that this devotion will be for naught and their ties will crinkle and crumble from one damning event. A life of such… isolation would be far too lonely. _Dearest family, we have come ever so far, so please, I beg of your favors, leave my side not._ It is thoughts such as these that fester and pester her as she gently tends to Marzia, the wyvern happily taking in the meal and the affection.
What she wouldn’t do for a bath to shake every inch of these worries, but she hasn’t the time for that. She can do all the trip planning she wishes, to which she certainly will do, but for now, with the aid of her retainers, whose loyalty she holds dear and has no question over, she tends to clearing the darkness away from the shadows of her siblings. They needn’t worry about the small offenders; they’ll fall at the snap of her fingers.
**“** My sweet Beruka and my adorable Selena, let us clear this up so we can enjoy the day later, shall we? Perhaps we could relieve our worries in the hot springs? **”**
“T-The hot springs and you and I would be a losing battle… but I’ll make you proud so you _have_ to say I’m your number one retainer, Lady Camilla! **”**
**“** This is work as usual, Lady Camilla. **”**
But her retainers notice the smallest shifts in her heart, don’t they? _That’s not like you, Lady Camilla_. She can feel it. My, she wants to hug them, thank them dearly for their concern, but for that she’ll withhold her comments. There’s more to tend to, so she’ll spare their breaths. Tell not Corrin of the lives she’s ended, continue to watch Leo grow, support Xander as best she can, and be sure Elise can always radiate her cute, sunshine as always. She’ll provide advice to them all, alleviate the worries they may have procured.
Camilla adores the people around her.
She is observant, polite, a graceful combination of brutal relentlessness and polite care. Never will she let fate toy with those she holds most dear without asking her first. If… If they leave, then be still her heart, cross it, and hope all the threats die. Come home, come home to her, for losing them all, sapping away interest and fun and _happiness_ from all situations grapples away the true liveliness that dances within her.
Playtime does end fast when war is at the door, doesn’t it?
Another battle done, so she washes her hands, brushes out her hair, her hand gently running through it afterwards, a small strand wrapping around her finger. Delicate, the wind could disperse it, but so strong that it still yet remains.
Correct… Her family is strong, with their pillars withstanding all tests fate may crash upon them.
**“** Now, now, why, are you all not a lively bunch? Settle down, for there is much work to be done. Oh? Stress drapes upon your shoulders? **”** She smiles, **“** I oughtn’t withhold such an offer then. The world is far better with you all around, so if troubles ail you, I’ll lend an ear. **”** | 0f8cefb8b1fe49609cb74bbd74499c74 | ['acb8e7429c24407a8f9be49550d16310'] | His arm collapses right where it’s drawn out, just shy of her. He pushes it back up, elbow locked up. He knows better than anyone? He... knows _ better than anyone_! That’s why! That’s _ exactly _ why she can’t go to them! His hand may miss her, but words surely... _ do as well_.
“Farewell, Sasazuka-san,” Hoshino says, turning around, walking away. The world is gray, hers spited, collared by the malice that flows through the world’s veins.
“-don’t go... I’m begging you! Don’t go to them!”
This can’t be the last time. Yanagi, Okazaki, Mineo, himself, they wanted to save her. Free her from those shackles, free Japan from the threats that lurked.
He’s come to care so much. Why is that? If she doesn’t want to stay here, then why does it bother? Because he’s losing another person? Another that has somehow grown on him. Appearing before them, kicked, a stray..? Or just abandoned. Not yet to be trusted, with what adorned her neck... the collar...
“You idiot...”
_ That _ collar, it caused them to meet. It drove them man. It laughed at them from amidst the darkness and encrusted their souls until it drained their vision, and all that was left that they could see was red.
* * *
He awakens in a cold sweat. His hand extended out before him, it falls when his consciousness returns. The lingering of a chilling tip. The wish for the warmth to return. _ Damn_.
“Hoshino Ichika... isn’t alive anymore... that’s it?”
Two years, he’s lived with this for that long, and it’s not going to end. Adonis is still out there and, despite _ knowing_, they can’t catch them. They can’t act.
Guns. Weapons. Still rampant. Still _ disgusting_. He’d be one of the ones watching out for the younger brother, had he survived two years ago. But he didn’t. _ Terrible _ . He suspects it because they needed more incentive to break her, to drive her need to look out for others to the edge. But, the timeline is messy. There was that friend of his, right? _ Sera Akito_, they had him, they lost him. There’s no way he’s dead. Maybe she’s with him, watching over him, weighing her sinful selfishness against her innate need to help others, to put a world first.
Thus, it shackles her more, and more. She blames herself, and she fights back. Even if she had given up on something of herself, even if she went there to damage them from the inside, the risks were - are - far too high.
These thoughts circulate. Perhaps they’ve been doing so more lately, since it’s around the time this all went down for the first time. That nightmare... wasn’t uncommon. Trauma is a plague, and lately, he’s been reliving more than other kinds. Maybe it’s come up even more because of those lookalikes he saw one day - even if the one that looked _ like _ her had much shorter hair. Maybe it had been them. But he didn’t do a damn thing about it. Too tired? Too uncertain?
His phone goes off and he squirts at it, clearly agitated. By it? By the mare? By the interruption to his thoughts? Who knows, who _ cares_. He _ did _ make it to his bed, but that hardly matters. Maybe pulling those recent all nighters messed with his head, and the illusions, are stronger than ever. Yanagi... _ and _ Hoshino would have tried to get him to take a break, to sleep, just a little.
_ Sasazuka, eat and get some rest_, Yanagi would probably say, after setting a meal in front of him. Better than sweets, would be a claim, probably.
Hoshino would nod along with him, an apron on her person. _ Yes, please, Sasazuka-san..! _
Snap out of it, he must. No need to hear voices. There are no arms to cling to, nobody to lean against. Those gunshots aren’t going away. The warmth isn’t coming back. So, he’ll drown it back, until he too recedes into the unknown. The only thing keeping him sane enough are the possibilities.
He’s too set, too bittered, to fall to their deeds. Hack back, lose the thread. One more shot when a cyber strike comes back.
Sasazuka exhales, grabbing him phone. He knows what will show up on the screen. Usually, he gets to stay home. He’s had to be escorted more than once, so it’s a hassle.
_ Yeah, work... I have to go in_.
So he gets dressed. He’d _ rather _ stay home. He’s not in the mood. But he’ll go. He’s got to show that he’s sort of still in this. He wants this to end. That’s his motivation. An ending.
That _ puppy _ is outside the door, but he’s oddly quiet.
“Time to go, Takeru-san.”
“Ro-ger~”
Even for him. _ Yoshinari Hideaki_, he’s still an officer. He’s gotten some of his bounce back. Maybe it’s because he’s come to terms with the future. With his line of duty. Or maybe he’s trying to be stronger, a facade. It doesn’t really matter. The whole situation... it’s a pity fest and a crush of the chest, regardless.
Yoshinari doesn’t say a word more to him. He looks forward, as alert as possible, but bits seem out of it.
It isn’t until he gets into the building, and checks in, that he sees the news.
He hears it. How could he miss it? Was the particular intensity of the nightmare a sign?
“Blown...”
_ Blown up_.
What was the Adonis Headquarters, gone. The report says ‘likely.’ Sasazuka knows though. He knows. That picture, that place was it. It’s over. There’s no way any of the high ranking members survived that, if they were still around at all.
He feels it in his stomach. There’s no speaking. Nothing more to say. He casts his gaze to the floor and walks to the elevator. When a passerby greets him, he shoots them a glare. It’s one coupled with down, with shade over all else.
So much he could have done. Faster. Better. Not enough.
One sentence. That’s all he says, when he’s alone. One he’s said before. One he’s repeated before. He’s the last one left, of their rag-tag disastrous group, after all. There’s no doubt. No exchange. No closure. A chance missed. Was that her plan all along? Did she reject him, in order to put an end to this that way? What of those who wanted her alive?
“Hoshino Ichika... isn’t alive anymore.” |
d4b40dbb73044dbf9e3d8b236ec0a4d3 | ['acc2bc95c2734a929a32019c05cced6b'] | Just like what he had done before, with the online things, Luffy tipped the scale. He placed his finger firmly on the right side and pushed down. The woman then simply found the appropriate size, paid, and left. It added a bit of sustenance to Luffy's basket. He knew that it wasn't going to last long. _Nothing lasts long in a basket with no bottom_ , he thought as he followed the woman to her apartment.
Luffy had been very stupid and very naive when he had first been figuring out his abilities all those millennia ago. He had eaten his horse. A stupid idea and one that he has forever regretted, because that horse was cool. _All black and sleek and too thin to fill anyone up._ As far as Luffy knew War was the only one with a horse still around. Although he could have sworn he saw it wandering around without its master sometime last year. Not like it was Luffy's business, but if he did find it wandering without War he was going to eat it. Thin as his horse may have been it kept him fed far longer than anything else he had ever partaken in.
Upon entering the young woman's house the right scale fell completely down at the smell of cooked food in the air. _Food_ , Luffy thought as he threw himself into the kitchen to see what was being made. Another young woman stood in the kitchen, long blue hair tied up into a ponytail at the crown of her head, who lightly stirred a sauce in one pot with an eye on the pasta that was in the other.
_No meat._ Luffy dramatically sank to the floor in the kitchen, half passed through the floor, and moaned at the depravity of it. _They don't even have a slight hunger for meat,_ he whined more as the red head walked into the room after she had changed. She lightly kissed her, apparent, girlfriend on the shoulder before she gathered dishes and set the table off to the side.
Luffy got a small fill during the dinner and even got more after. They had sex, well they called it dessert. They even used the new negligee.
Sex wasn't one of those things Luffy had ever been interested in. Pestilence liked it, well when he gave people diseases from it, and War found it to resemble another form of battle. But Luffy just didn't care. Sure it fed him rather well, especially these women. _They don't have an off switch._ But it just didn't seem like a necessary thing.
After several rounds Luffy watched as the two women finally drifted off to sleep. With a full belly Luffy did the same, sort of. Horsemen didn't need to sleep like humans did, just as they didn't need to have sex like Nami and Vivi, Luffy learned their names as they moaned them to each other, did. Horsemen more just emptied their mind while they attached themselves to someone that they felt like following. Luffy did that to Nami, so that he would be with her for a time and influence her whenever the scales started to lean. The thing about the Horsemens' ‘sleep’ was that they controlled when they attached to someone, and when they let their minds drift, but as soon as the attached person started to have any feelings that were similar to what the Horseman craved they were woken up. This meant Luffy's brothers could float on people for long periods of time before the person got sick, wanted to fight, or felt like dying. Luffy on the other hand never got to float for long.
He got ‘woken up’ the next morning by more of a need to stick fingers in places, followed by the need to bath, then the need to eat, before finally Nami ran off to work.
Work was more of the same. Lots of number, a new dress and shoes, more numbers, a present for Vivi, and more numbers. Luffy hated it at the same time loved it for feeding him.
It was after work that got interesting. Nami had a phone call with Vivi about someone named Chopper and ‘meeting at his place for dinner.’ Luffy loved dinner. He just wasn't expecting the company.
There was Nami, who he followed, Viv, the person named Chopper, and Pestilence.
2. Famine didn't get it
Luffy couldn't believe it. “Brother!” he yelled as he went to tackle Pestilence who was floating on the other side of the room.
“Famine!” Pesty called out in return and hugged Luffy close, before they moved back and looked at each other.
Luffy almost couldn't believe the change he saw in Pesty. His clothes were loose and showed off his skin, his crown sat crooked and dull atop his bush of hair. Even his blanket looked different. “It’s been so long!” Luffy yelled at him and didn't really care about the change because he got to finally see a brother again.
“It has!” Pesty replied, looking Luffy up and down. He felt his chest puff out at Pesty's gaze. “How are you? You seem well fed.” Pesty asked as he moved to right Luffy's hat that had fallen backwards some on his head.
“This one,” Luffy indicated Nami with his thumb, “has crazy appetites for things.” He giggled at everything that he had fed on since he started following her. The amount of new clothes her and her girlfriend had was starting to get a little ridiculous.
Pesty laughed too. “I’m sure she does.” There was a look in Pesty's eye that said that e knew exactly what Luffy was talking about. Like he knew Nami personally. | 60f00e45c73044fa9b1bdde4458ef0a1 | ['acc2bc95c2734a929a32019c05cced6b'] | A quick glance back at Zoro before leaving the bedroom and the apartment makes the guilt rise to a level he didn't realize he could feel.
Sanji walks the streets. The pavements he has memorized lead him to where he needs to go. However this time it trips him, making him stumble, like it’s telling him to turn back. To go back to the bedroom and hold the man he’s beginning to love in his arms. But Sanji can’t. The pull for another hit, the euphoria forces him forward into the streets where he hopes to find a man that will pay him for a small favor of release.
It’s something Sanji does from time to time when the biweekly amount of crack money he puts away runs out. It doesn't happen often, but when it does he knows he can always find a willing guy wanting a blow job.
It doesn't take long to find one. The guy in question has weights pulling his ears down to his shoulders and hair like that famous white rapper that is named after M&M’s or something. With the crawling feeling pushing him forward, and the guilt trying to pull him back, the blow job isn't the best he has given, but the guy, God as he asked to be called, doesn't complain. He even goes so far as to remove the condom himself when done before giving Sanji the amount they agreed upon.
Sanji's shaking limbs take him from the secluded alleyway where he did his business and back onto the unsavory street before him, quickly scouting around for a seller that he knows before he passes out from the clawing feeling inside.
He spots Alvida on the other side of the street with some of her other hookers around her. She doesn't look like she is selling what he needs for the night. Fuck. Got to look around for another.
Using the walls around him as support he spots Krieg a few blocks down sitting on a crate at the opening of an alleyway. Not the guy Sanji was hoping for, but he will do. Fumbling steps bring Sanji closer, before he holds out the money under Krieg’s nose who didn't even notice his less than obvious walk up.
Sanji doesn't say a word as Krieg takes the bills from him and places a baggy in his palm in return. They have done this enough over the years that Krieg doesn't even need to know what Sanji wants.
Sanji stumbles his way down the alley Krieg is stationed in front of and attempts to put a small amount of rocks in the bowl of the small pipe he grabbed. He ends up dropping one before another finally gets in. Lighting up he takes a small drag, just enough to relieve the shivers from his body. He waits till they subside and the euphoria starts to make its appearance by sending his mind to a happy place, where Sanji didn't just leave the man he cares for alone in bed.
His stumbling walk home is with the ideas of a high mind. Ones that make him realize that the city never actually sleeps, someone is always doing something, and when Sanji is like this he can't close his eyes to it when he is outside in the world with them. The world is alive and thriving out here, but that isn't where he wants to be. Sanji wants to sink into his bed with the warm lover he left there.
When he enters his apartment it doesn't hit him that it’s silent till he opens his bedroom door and is met with an empty bed staring back at him. In Sanji's numbness he does nothing but walk to it and sit on the edge. Thoughts of how it’s his fault circle his mind before he takes a long hit to ease the pain in his chest.
Sanji wants Zoro to come back, to take Sanji with him wherever he has gone, and to watch Sanji as he tries to rise from the person he hates to the one he wishes he could be again.
8. Love to Another Man
**_ March 8 _ **
Zoro is jostled awake by Sanji clumsy slipping from the bed. He isn't even all that quiet while he slips on some clothes, pulls out the box under the bed, and leaves the room with a light sigh at the door before the footsteps fade into the living room and out of the apartment.
Zoro can't say he wasn't expecting this to happen. He could see it in Sanji's eyes when they were getting into bed that he might not make it any further than this, for now.
Zoro wants to run after him. To stop him and pull him back into the bed, but there is the fear at the back of his head that tells him Sanji could have stayed. He could have fought it, but he doesn't actually want to with Zoro. That it’s Zoo holding him back.
The voice repeats itself and repeats itself as Zoro quickly slips on his clothes and makes the decision to follow Sanji. To see where he goes and who he gets it from. Zoro can even stop the deal from going down and drag Sanji back to the apartment. He quickly slips out the apartment and down the stairs to the road checking left first with no sign of the blond and then right where he just sees Sanji disappear around the corner.
With this heart in his throat Zoro follows after him. He had thought there might be more to this than just Sanji stumbling around on the streets, tripping over the cracks in the pavement, but there really isn't. It’s just Sanji looking around for someone. Zoro doesn't know who and he can't see the expression on Sanji's face to know if he is looking for a dealer or not. |
8422e66209df418dbda2e6b53321ce55 | ['acc8bd7a94364ddea4d1a4a1dd751024'] | > _Several twigs and leaves crunched and snapped, making her jerk her scarf and hood back on._
>
> _“Caw caw!” someone called._
>
> _Her shoulders relaxed, and she eased her hood and scarf down. “Caw caw!”_
>
> _Standing up, she saw the boy her age with blonde hair and gray eyes carrying some bottles of assorted earth tones. One of the bottles she easily recognized contained rosemary._
>
> _“You scared me!”_
>
> _“Sorry,” he replied. Now that he was coming into the light, she picked out two homemade fishing poles in his arms._
>
> _“Won’t your parents catch you sneaking out?”_
>
> _“Mom and Dad won’t be home until sundown, so we should be okay.”_
>
> _“Okay.”_
>
> _The two of them each took a fishing pole and settled onto the small pier._
>
> _“Tomorrow my dad’s gonna show me how to catch fish without a fishing pole,” the boy whispered, hoping not to scare the fish away._
>
> _“Can you show me, too?” she asked also in a whisper._
>
> _The boy hesitated. He almost forgot she had a knife with her. Girls her age didn’t have knives. They had hairpins and that kind of girly stuff. “S-sure. I’ll show you.”_
Courtney’s eyes flew open. The first thing she saw was the ash and soot of a long dead fire. Then her eyes went to Hans just glancing over to her.
Sitting up, she wiped her wet face with her scarf. She should’ve been up already.
“You’re awake,” Hans stated.
“So are you,” Courtney quipped, and Hans had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “How’s that bite mark?”
“Fine, thank you. What about you?”
“I’m sore but I’ll live. And we’ll be better once we head back.”
After situating themselves, the two set out to retrace their steps.
“Judging by their appearance it seems unlikely for those wolves to appear in the day,” Hans pointed out. “But if they were magic and someone conjured them, then there may be a chance of encountering them.”
“Then we move quicker,” Courtney replied, and she took the lead, forcing Hans to jog up to her.
He briefly thought back to their encounter with those wolves. “They were very keen on taking you for themselves.”
“Oh is that what they were doing?”
He frowned at the sarcasm in her tone.
“They probably saw me as the weaker of the two of us. Easy prey.”
“Or their maker was interested in you.”
Courtney’s heel scuffed against the ground, and Hans was quick to take notice. “Well they should’ve been interested in you. You’re a prince.” _With a unique quality._
Hans laughed bitterly. “Of course.”
“Say what you want. You’re a prince whether you like it or not.”
Growling jerked them to a halt, and both of them turned to Hans’s right. Those steely eyes from before were back and closing in on them. It was a small pack, but they were still dangerous nonetheless.
Without hesitation, the duo bolted off.
“We need to retrace our steps!” Hans urged.
“Obviously!” Courtney snapped. But everything seemed completely different in broad daylight. And they were running from demonic wolves. _You’ve been in tighter situations than this._
Yanking her whip out, Courtney watched for a low-hanging branch before grabbing Hans and latching her whip onto the closest one. Hans felt teeth graze the back of his heel as they went up, and the two used their momentum to grab onto a branch. The wolves clawed at the tree as the duo put more distance between them and the creatures. He knew he should be used to suddenly being taken up by her, but strangely he wasn’t. In fact most of the time he wished she wouldn’t keep doing that.
Courtney hissed as she slowly flexed her whip hand, and she surveyed the area. She couldn’t recognize anything from last night no matter how much she tried to match the silhouettes of the trees. And she’d rather figure it out as quickly as possible before the wolves figure out how to climb. “Anything look familiar?”
Hans studied the area. Frankly last night didn’t do much to help him figure out how to get back to that pond. There weren’t even any notable landmarks he could recall from last night. “No.” He glanced down at a wolf managing to climb up a few inches before sliding back down. “But we need to get rid of those wolves if we’re going to figure out how to get back.”
“There’s too many. We’ll be overrun and we won’t be as lucky as last time.”
Hans frowned. They were sitting ducks, then. _Think, Hans. There has to be a way out._
Courtney broke off a small branch and chucked it at the wolves below. If there was a way to trigger that trait in Hans they might have a chance to get away. Then again, she’d rather not deal with whatever repercussions it might have—not out here, and certainly not before Hans gets that second chance. _Fine, then._
Hans noticed Courtney making her way to the back of the tree. “And where are you going?”
She ignored him as she started to cut at a decently sized branch with her knife. “Start getting lower.”
He studied her for a bit before glancing between the branch and the wolves. Pulling his sword out got her attention on him, and she grabbed the weapon to continue her work. It was a stupid idea, but it was better than nothing.
In no time the branch was free, and Courtney handed Hans’s sword back to him. She hopped to another branch before sending the one she cut down toward the wolves below. “Go!” | c33fec5600b44bf6a21e8547b1a47d1d | ['acc8bd7a94364ddea4d1a4a1dd751024'] | But no matter where Destiny and Janet went, everyone was talking about their late night act.
“Okay, now I’m starting to have regrets,” Destiny muttered.
“At least they don’t know who we are,” Janet replied. “Not yet, at least. . . .”
When night came around, the girls had put themselves further into the shadows of the alleyway. Destiny (after some convincing) was sound asleep against Janet, whose eyes were trained on the alleyway’s entrance.
_It’s only a matter of time before last night blows over. That or someone finds us._
_But we’ll be fine. I hope._
A shout from down the street filled the air, and Destiny gasped awake before messily dragging herself to her feet and standing in front of Janet. Her eyes were only half open, and her sister rolled her eyes at her poor stance.
“Firmer stance, Des,” Janet said, and Destiny grumbled to herself.
Gesturing for her to stay, Janet carefully made her way along the wall to the mouth of the alleyway. She felt something jolt down her arm and stop at her hand, making it tingle, but she balled her hand up to shove the energy back.
She slowly peeked behind the corner and. . . .
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. At least to her knowledge. It wasn’t too late for people to be out and about, so maybe the noise was just—
Another shout, this time in protest.
“Well?” Destiny hissed.
Janet ducked away. If this turned out to be a false alarm, then maybe they were just a tad bit paranoid. Coming to a decision, she sighed. “We’re going to have to do ‘it’ one more time. But after this we go back to laying low. We don’t need another Delshir.”
So once again they clad themselves in black and darted through the city under the cover of shadows. Once they did find the source of the sound, they ended up having to ward off a trio of bullies messing with a kid.
“Who are you?” the kid asked once he deemed the sidewalk safe again. “Are you the ones who stopped those bad guys yesterday?”
The girls exchanged a side glance before nodding, and the kid gasped.
“Really? Wow! Wait ‘til I tell my dad!” His expression suddenly became crestfallen. “That is . . . if I can find him.” He seemed hesitant and ashamed. “I wandered away from him while he was talking to the lady at the cash register. Can you help me find him?”
Janet nodded, and the boy kept close to the sisters as he tried retracing his steps. Every now and then he’d scan the area for those bullies, but Janet and Destiny would silently reassure him that he was safe.
Once they reunited him with his father, the sisters vanished from the area faster than you could say “dragon.”
But destiny made sure they spotted more trouble the next night.
“Lots of stuff happens by the main square, apparently,” Janet commented. Both she and her sister were atop a building overlooking the square and eyeballing the situation down below.
“So, we’re back at it, Goldie?” Destiny asked.
Janet snorted, and she was stricken with a memory of herself as a kid running around the house with a gold bandana wrapped around her head. _I practically lived in that thing._ “Well there’s no point in avoiding it anymore. And I know neither of us would be able to stand by while someone picks on somebody else.”
Destiny unzipped her jacket, and her belt and pin glinted in the moonlight. “In and out.”
“Unseen, _Silver_. And you’re calling me G, not Goldie.”
It seemed like every other night after that had trouble, but the sisters put a stop to it every time. And every night, unbeknownst to them, they stayed one step ahead of the Ninjas no matter how fast they jumped to solve the problem.
And every night, Sensei Wu would watch the sisters from afar. |
234cdc4b09d34dbc9d807d07ebaf7e61 | ['accc54c6328a49f2a7cdc6227f616ceb'] |
Another Treaty, Closer and Closer
Luso trudged through the muddy swamp, fretting a little that it was getting really dark. And then the spooks would come out. He definitely didn't want that.
He rushed because of Zellea. Because of Helje and Ahli and all the other spots on the map that just seem to...be non-existent, to not follow the laws of the universe. He couldn't stand all that cryptic nonsense that Lezaford liked to spew, and just wanted answers. And he knew just the person to ask.
The Witch of the Fens, always giving of answers if they pertained. While the wizened mage Lezaford would have you fishing through mysterious metaphors, the Witch laid it out flat. She was sometimes too blunt, scaring away people who might trespass on her.
However, when he reached the tiny hut in the marsh, he was let down to see the lantern within wasn't lit. Looking around warily, he snuck up to the house hoping to see her within, concocting some nightly brew. He looked around for creatures of the night, those things that would easily munch on his yummy flesh, and then slowly peeked into the hut's open door.
"Aaggh!!"
Luso screamed and jumped back, surprised to see the Witch's face staring directly at him. His surprised shout echoed all throughout the dank and empty marsh. There was a great hush in the nightlife after the scream, frogs warily stopping their serenade and the watery creatures diving deep into their muddy homes.
Instead of even a "hello", the Witch of the Fens tilted her head at his loud reaction.
"Geez! You scared me half to death!" Luso panted.
"Then it would be unwise to turn now," came her creepy reply.
Suddenly Luso felt his hair rising on his neck, afraid of a zombie or marlboro baby sneaking behind him. He quickly spun around and jumped back toward the hut only to see a bumpy toad standing just behind where his heels were.
His first thought was to say "ha ha, very funny" but he suddenly realised...
"You just made a joke," he said.
"I'm not incapable," she muttered and then fell quite silent for a few moments while Luso looked at the pestering toad. "You have scared away a very interesting entity in the Fens."
"Oh. Sorry. What were you looking at?"
"A fleshling."
"A zombie...?"
"Something worse, I fear."
Luso just shuddered. The Witch then turned to him, looking him up and down, then promptly went within her tiny workspace to light the lantern within.
"I still say you are most strange to come to this place," she spoke, working, "You fear the inhabitants yet you still return."
"Yeah...You're worth it!" Luso replied.
The Witch stopped for a moment, giving him a very serious, stern look, before beginning a new draught of some sort.
"Just wondering if you knew anything about jagds."
"But a thing," she replied, pulling off jars from the shelves and shovelling some things in the big pot full of water. Luso thought she looked pretty frail so he wondered how she toted that big cauldron to the waterside to draw the disgusting, Mist-infested water.
"A friend—er...Yeah, a friend told me that they're weak spots in-between this world and another. But that doesn't make any sense, because I read in an old book at the library—"
"You? At the library?" the Witch mused without humorous tone.
"Ha ha," Luso retorted, "That's how I got here, you know."
She nodded as if she had always known, even though Luso had said nothing about it until now.
"Anyway, I read this old book that said judges used to not be adjoined to a clan, and they could roam anywhere they wanted!"
"Somewhat, yes."
"Well, they didn't go to jagds. And I don't know why. My friend says it's because it's dangerous...but judges are immortal! What do they have to fear?"
The Witch worked in silence a bit as the brew began to smell oddly familiar and Luso wondered if she was just cooking and not actually making any tonic. Finally she spoke as she took that huge spoon again and began to stir.
"Your 'friend' has been misinformed. And I expected better of Lezaford."
"Ack! How did you know?"
"Not many know of the jagds, boy clanner. They are for those with, shall we say, 'the sight'."
Luso didn't understand but he should have known she would be just as mystic as Lezaford. He smiled at the thought that the two may have been close friends or maybe partners in the magickal works.
"Yes, they are weak spots, places where rifts open heartily. And it is just this that makes them untouchable by the old judges."
She flipped her spoon up and some of the fluid splattered on the walls. She tasted the big end and showed her displeasure, grabbing a big jar of what looked like fuzzy, green grass and hastily throwing in tuftfulls.
"The rifts that did open, as cracks, something so small, seeped Mist in. Mist is too strong and thick to condense into crystals or magick, so it is basically a deadzone."
"Deadzone?"
"Aye. No strong magicks can work there."
"But I was transported there!" Luso recalled, remembering when they had switched there for a moment and had tried to cast a spell just to see if it was a dream or real. "I used a spell and it worked fine."
"Hmh. Boy clanner, do you think you some great mage? I meant the magicks of the judges, magick so strong that it keeps the judges alive for eternity."
Stung, Luso hushed and listened intently, while the Witch pulled out a salted meat and plopped it into the cauldron. It turned a fiery red and Luso knew she had been cooking.
"There could be no free-standing judges as the magick would not allow it. That means there are no laws either."
"Laws?" | 9f6cda45af38453badb23aff506d1521 | ['accc54c6328a49f2a7cdc6227f616ceb'] | Pestilence
Everyone was dead.
It wasn't fair.
She didn't want to admit the truth.
She should have seen this coming. The white hair, the athleticism and intelligence, the never getting sick... This should have been obvious. And she hated herself for seeing that and denying its possibility.
She still craved to ignore it, to pass it off as chance, to throw the memories away. She knew it wasn't something that could be done. So to engrave it into her mind, she warily traversed through the village.
There were bodies literally everywhere. Piles over there, half rotten as the first to be taken. Piles over here, fresh and still warm as being the last to go. In the clinic were people curled on the floor, eyes milky. The nurses and doctors perished tending to the sick, finally slumped over their dying patients, and taking their very last breaths.
Adelle's eyes filled with tears, but she urged herself to wipe doubt from within her.
All among the houses were children, who seemed to get the worst of it. They were tucked into their beds by their stricken parents, and somehow the plague managed to completely drain them of blood. So many red-soaked beds turned her stomach. Their eyes were sunken, dark, and somehow, sad.
Houses and other buildings here and there were burning, in a desperate attempt to scorch out the disease. It seemed to take them almost in a single night, and everyone pleaded to the gods for salvation.
And then there were none.
When she reached the edge of the town, Adelle fell to her knees and hated the gods. Somehow, she felt that blaming them would take away from blaming herself. She couldn't get away from the gnawing thought that it was perhaps her own fault for causing them ill... that she was to blame because of her many gifts.
She felt as though her parents would be watching her by now, completely innocent of any deity's wrath. She didn't want them to be angry, but she swore to them she wouldn't ever use her gifts again if she could help it. Not only did she never truly fit in, but the plight of the village, while she untouched, seemed too perfect to deny.
And then she was sure she was "special".
Soon, it was easier to become a petty thief and swindling charmer than to live a life of good. The ruffians she hung around wouldn't ever care if they saw her gifts, one way or another.
But she would never use them anyway. |
abe8814b8d6a4999b0505f5c9dce2ae2 | ['ad57e972a0a54fe4bac2d66fc5048c2c'] | Walter rolled up his sleeve trying to figure out exactly when he had lost control of this entire situation. He had a niggling feeling it had been the instant the words "I love you" had escaped from his lips. Now a tourniquet was being applied to his arm, after which he was thumped, and stuck, and then he was given a piece of cotton to hold in his bent elbow. All of this was done with the same cheerful efficiency that had gotten him weighed and his blood pressure checked.
"The doctor will be in to see you in a moment, Mr. Skinner," he was told with a bright smile when he started to get off the examination table. He wondered why he had to see a doctor; the blood had already been taken and he thought he was finished. It wasn't enough that Mulder had found his medication and quizzed Scully about dosages and side effects and any other damn thing that got into his head, but his meddling lover had immediately made an appointment for Walter to see a new doctor. The same one Mulder now went to. "The best," Mulder had assured. And Walter was quite sure that the people who now watched over Mulder were quite interested in the man's continued health and well being, so this physician probably was very respected in his field. Either that or he was collecting samples for nefarious purposes, but Walter preferred not to dwell on that possibility.
The door opened and a rather portly, youthful looking man in his late fifties with, 'guess what, I'm a doctor' written all over him, entered.
"Mr. Skinner," the man smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Doctor Plummer."
"Walter," he grinned automatically, and shook the man's hand. He'd been Mr. Skinnered enough for one day already.
"Walter," the doctor agreed, sitting on a stool and looking at his clipboard. "Mulder has already told me that you would like to change physicians."
"He did?"
"Was he mistaken?" There was a genuine look of disappointment in the cow-like brown eyes.
"No, no, that's fine. He's right, it'd probably be better that way."
"Now, I've already told him that my practice is very full, but he is a very persuasive individual."
"Tell me about it."
The doctor laughed. "Yes, well, if you'd leave the number of your current doctor with my receptionist we can have your records transferred. When's the last time you had a complete physical?"
"Well, uh...with the Bureau they require...."
Walter trailed off uncertainly, but the doctor took it in his stride.
"You really should think about setting up an appointment. Once a man reaches fifty he should have himself checked regularly."
"Mulder's probably doing that now," he mumbled.
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"Well," the clipboard was flipped shut and he was smiled at again, "we'll have the results by tomorrow and I can evaluate your current regime. And after your physical we can set about putting you back in balance."
Walter got down from the table, tossed the cotton ball into the trash, and rolled down his sleeve.
"I've enjoyed meeting you, Walter. I've heard quite a bit about you over the past couple of months." Walter stood open-mouthed as the doctor left the room. "Not by name until today, of course," floated back over the retreating shoulder.
"Of course," he muttered, buttoning his cuff.
##
"What you need is something to cheer you up," Mulder told him sagely as they crossed the parking lot.
"And you don't think the prospect of a physical in three weeks is enough to do that, huh?"
"Don't be so grumpy. I know you, you never go near a doctor until you don't have a choice."
"I happen to like it that way."
"Well, after this is over you won't have to think about it for a whole year. So stop frowning, it's not the end of the world. I thought," Mulder told him while unlocking the Mercedes, "since we're already in town, you might enjoy looking for a new car."
Walter considered that for a moment and decided that he really should return the rental. "I think I'd like another Jag."
"There're two lots on our way home. Then you can get that Ford out of the driveway, it's ruining our image."
"The Jaguar is a Ford. You're just a snob," he accused.
"You're right, I only want the very best."
Walter accepted the compliment.
##
The car showroom was staffed by personnel who were so bored they were happy to talk to anybody, even if they appeared to be 'only looking'. A two-door convertible had already caught Walter's eye; now he only had to figure out what color he wanted it in. He leaned back against a neighboring car and tried to picture Mulder in the passenger seat. Definitely not robin's egg blue, he decided.
"What colors...?" He didn't get a chance to finish his question before a color-chip book was placed deferentially in his hands by one of the hovering sales associates. He noticed Mulder striding purposefully towards him, followed by someone who was probably trying to sell him something. Walter opened the car door and gestured for Mulder to sit inside. "I want to see how you'll look in it," Walter grinned.
"You have the heart of an interior decorator," Mulder smirked at him, and settled into the leather seat.
"I have the soul of an artist," Walter corrected. The champagne color of the floor model disappointed him as Mulder's dark hair made a rather odd contribution to the monochromatic color scheme. He didn't want white, and he didn't like the yellow at all. "What do you think?" he asked, handing the color book over. Mulder usually looked good in red, but he knew red Jags were an invitation to be stopped by cops for speeding, even when they were parked.
"I like the black, or the dark blue." | 0fcdfb0eaf8c4e94a399d8e2ed85d564 | ['ad57e972a0a54fe4bac2d66fc5048c2c'] | "Stop that, you're just being silly," Walter told him, dismissing the subject by giving him a gentle shake. "Now, let me in on a secret and tell me where you've hidden the wrapping paper."
"What wrapping paper?" Mulder asked, feeling a little less at sea now he was sure Walter didn't really believe in ghosts, apparitions, or Teena Mulder.
"Christmas paper, the stuff that goes on boxes for presents."
"Oh, shit," he mumbled, "I didn't get any."
"Don't you have any from last year?" There was a pleading look in the brown eyes.
"Last year was not a gift sort of year for me. There may be some in the attic," he theorized. There had been stuff up there when he had bought the place. Maybe there was wrapping paper.
"Then lead on, McDuff."
They reached the top of the narrow staircase and Mulder fumbled for the chain of the overhead bulb.
"You know, it is kind of creepy up here with that one little light and the wind howling around outside." Walter confided.
"Don't start," he warned, searching for any bag with long tubes of paper sticking out.
"Is that big old sea chest over in the corner yours, or was it here when you moved in?"
"It was here, I haven't opened it because there isn't a key, and if you go near it I will hit you over the head with something."
"You haven't opened it in all this time? Aren't you curious?"
"No, and I'm definitely not curious right now, and if you don't get away from it...." He was seriously startled when he found what they were looking for, but picked up the bag. "Let's go, we can sort through this downstairs."
"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight, who knows what's inside this thing?" Walter taunted, knocking on the chest. It was getting on Mulder's nerves.
"Well, you can't open it now because you'll have to break into it. There's probably nothing more interesting than a dead body, and I wish I hadn't said that, so let's get out of here."
Walter experimentally thumped on the wood again and grinned at him.
"You can stay up here, or come down and wrap the damned presents, but I'm going downstairs, and I'm gonna turn off this light." The speed with which that big body could move never failed to amaze him.
"You're not leaving me alone in the dark with that thing." Walter ordained.
"What has gotten into you? You've been up here before and never gave that thing a second thought. You've even sat on it."
"Kinda gives you chills, doesn't it?"
"Will you stop?" he demanded and hurried down the steps as quickly as he could. He felt a lot happier when he was back in the bedroom.
There wasn't a lot of seasonal paper, but he found some that didn't have 'happy birthday' printed on it and counted it as a victory. Walter brought the presents that weren't for each other in from the spare room where they were keeping them all. They wrapped, tied ribbons, and made out little cards until the grandfather clock chimed one-thirty. With any luck they'd make it to the post office before the 24th.
"Boy, I'm tired," Mulder yawned, and the hand that was investigating the back seam of his jeans paused, and then retreated.
He heard answering yawn from behind him. "Bed," Walter agreed, and beat him into the bathroom.
####
Mulder was having a horrible dream, and it revolved around the locked chest upstairs. He couldn't get it open, but knew that it was very important that he do so. There was a pounding coming from inside, but it was getting fainter. A crowbar appeared in his hands and he smashed the lock, but when he got the lid open it was too late, and he stood in horror looking at Walter's blue tinged face while the sightless eyes stared accusingly. 'I told you you didn't know how to take care of him,' his mother chided. He woke choking, and bolted from the bed, barely making it into the bathroom to throw up in the sink. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely turn on the water to rinse his mouth.
"Mulder? Are you all...I guess you're not." Walter supported him and ran the tap. "You're not coming down with something, are you?" Large hands tidied him up and felt his forehead. "I don't think you have a fever."
He shook his head weakly, "Nightmare," he explained.
"Must have been a doozy. Here, drink some water." The glass was held for him and he sipped out of it. "Want to tell me about it?"
"It was that damned chest, and you were in it and I couldn't get you out in time, and mom just stood there and told me...,"
"It's okay," Walter soothed, rocking him in his arms. "I'm right here. And my chest is just fine."
"But you were dead." He felt foolish wiping tears from his eyes, but they kept coming whether he wanted them to or not.
"Well, I'm not dead now. No deity would be dumb enough to let something like that happen, not knowing it would have to answer to you."
A wet chuckle escaped him, and he buried his face in the warm neck.
"Come back to bed, let me just hold you for a while."
It was an offer he couldn't refuse, and gratefully climbed back under the covers that still retained a bit of their body heat. As stealthily as he could he slid his hand into the draw of his night table and found the reassuring shape of the bottle that contained nitroglycerine tablets. He had little stashes of them all over the house for easy access. Just in case. He nestled against the solid body and lay with his ear over the reassuringly strong and steady heartbeat.
"I shouldn't have freaked you out upstairs, I'm sorry. No more ghost stories before bedtime for you, lover. Your years of chasing ghosts are over."
Mulder snorted at that, but the gentle hand stoking his hair was lulling and the deep voice resonated softly as it crooned apologetically to him. He snuggled contentedly. After all these years he had Walter and that was all that mattered. He also had a portable defibrillator and updated CPR training. Just in case. Yes, he had Walter and he was determined to keep him. His mother had always had a tendency to underestimate him. He smiled and drifted off to a much more pleasant dream.
End
Archived: December 30, 2001 |
2774eb0486af4f1db98fd7ed03ed7ed7 | ['adad12fb11b2433fbb2475d8ba323dd6'] | Of course he did. She realized as soon as she asked. Otherwise, he would rather meditate outside in the snow than deal with the dissonance of having her so close.
Kennyo turned his palm up, raising his hand slightly to beckon her. His dark eyes shone in the firelight, concerned and…scared. Despite herself, despite _everything_ , damn her, her heart reached out for him.
Resigned, Reika knelt before him and allowed him to lift her into his lap. The way he held her was light and tense, afraid to be too tight, too close. Reika accepted her position—the heartache was already here, after all the caution in trying to step lightly around it, in trying not to get caught. Now she simply rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
In the absence of their voices, her ear attuned to the rhythms of Kennyo’s chest: His heartbeat was faster than before, his breathing shakier.
“You’re frightened,” Reika said softly, mirroring his words.
“I’m not.”
She looked up at him with an expression that was half pity, half understanding, and wholly unconvinced.
Kennyo’s adam’s apple bobbed. He managed only a hoarse whisper. “I don’t deserve to hold you this way.”
Frustration flashed through Reika; she turned away and bit the inside of her cheek, staring hard at nothing. She had meant to try and reassure him, but her head was clamoring with responses— _Stop it_ or _why not_ or _no, you don’t, as long as you keep saying that_. Instead she trapped those words in a tight ball and swallowed it.
Even so, Kennyo flinched.
Her frustration vanished, leaving guilt in its wake. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who should apologize.”
“ _Kennyo_.” His unrelenting self-blame cut a hot line through Reika’s chest. She pressed one fist over her heart and clasped it with her other hand, squeezing her eyes shut. _What do I say?_ Her chest throbbed; it was hard to breathe, let alone think. _Nothing ever gets through to him. What do I say…?_
Seconds passed while she remained caught in the web of her thoughts. Then, as if to lift her from them, Kennyo held her closer, his arms snug around her and his chest firm against her cheek and shoulder. His voice stirred, a low, deep groan slowly rising to a thrumming chant.
She didn’t know the true, spoken words of the Contemplation sutra, but she knew its rhythm from Kennyo’s recitations, knew the story from long, winding conversations about metaphysics and theology, recalled passages from the hours she spent studying its translation when there was little else to read. Queen Vaidehī, imprisoned by her usurper son, pleads with the Buddha Shakyamuni:
_“I beseech you, World-honored One, to reveal to me a land of no sorrow and no affliction, where I can be reborn. I do not wish to live in this defiled and evil world where there are hells and realms of hungry ghosts... World-honored One, I now kneel down and beg you to take pity on me: teach me how to visualize a land of pure karmic perfection.”_
_Then the World-honored One sent forth from between his eyebrows a flood of light the color of gold to illuminate the innumerable worlds in the ten directions. Some of these lands were made of jewels, some solely of lotus flowers; some were like a crystal mirror in which all the lands in the ten directions were reflected. Vaidehī then said to the Buddha, “O World-honored One, I wish to be born in the Pure Land of Amida. I beseech you, World-honored One, to teach me how to contemplate that land and attain Enlightenment...”_
And Shakyamuni does, leading Queen Vaidehī through the visualizations that enable her to see and attain freedom in Amida Buddha’s realm.
Monks chanted the sutra to journey through the visualizations for their own Enlightenment, but Reika knew that wasn’t what Kennyo was after now. It was a story of comfort, of liberation from sorrow. That was what he wanted to give to her.
The warmth of such a tender gesture enveloped her even more fully than his embrace. Her tension began to melt away. Reika let her eyelids drift closed once more, surrendering to darkness and the mixed rhythms of his intonations and his heartbeats in the wide expanse of his chest.
She didn’t realize she had begun to doze until some part of her mind jerked her back into consciousness. She blinked a few times, resurfacing through the warm grogginess, then patted Kennyo to get his attention. He stopped chanting and looked down at her, breath held.
“It’s okay now,” she murmured. “I can fall asleep, so… you can put me down.”
She felt Kennyo’s deep exhale. His voice was gentle, reassuring. “Just sleep. We’ll stay warm, and tomorrow we can think of this only as a dream.”
Reika hesitated. _Tomorrow…_ They’d wake up, untangle themselves, open the hut’s door for chill, fresh air to replace the atmosphere of sleep and smoke. She would re-dress properly, and then? And then, like most mornings, they’d eat porridge and listen to the daybreak song of the forest, pretending nothing had changed. But she realized now the very normalcy marked a change inside her: the small routines, the easy silence, the sound of his breath when all else was still—the days with him were beginning to feel like… home.
And there was the heartache. But it was softer now, blanketed by Kennyo’s resumed chant, by the gentle strength of his arms, by warmth and the smell of pine and incense. _Just for tonight_ , she thought, _I’ll let myself have this dream._ The tug of sleep returned like the ocean tide, and this time, she let it carry her away. | eee8ab04ce814f21a473d95b2ebb38e7 | ['adad12fb11b2433fbb2475d8ba323dd6'] |
A Half-Finished Bridge
_First snow_
_Falling_
_On the half-finished bridge._
- Basho
Sheets of snow fell with twilight across the wide spaces between trees, and Reika dashed behind Kennyo as he forged the way to their temporary destination. Finally, Kennyo threw open the door to the tiny hut. A flurry of snow followed Reika inside before Kennyo pushed the door closed, the wood shuddering with strain, and he dropped the bar to ensure it stayed shut against the raging wind.
The hut was dark. The air inside smelled of dust with a faint trace of incense, and Reika breathed it in relief. She was still wet, freezing, and angry at the snow, but now at least she could be those things in relative safety. Gratitude swelled in her chest: one way or another, no matter what they were up against, Kennyo always managed to find or make a haven for her.
Now, how to phrase her thanks in a way he couldn’t deflect?
“You know—” Reika tried to strike a casual tone through her shivering. “I’m grateful you’re pragmatic enough to have so many safehouses. They’ve certainly come in handy.”
She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but Reika caught his soft inhale of uncertainty. She could picture his slightly startled expression, too, before his face would inevitably harden as it always did when he didn’t know how to respond. The image made her smile. He’d be more embarrassed if he could see that, but his eyes were probably still adjusting to the dark. Without further acknowledgement, Kennyo strode to a corner on the other side of the room to retrieve something.
“Here.” He held a mystery bundle, flattish and squarish, out to her. “Wrap yourself in that, then put your clothes on over so they may dry.”
Reika walked over to take what felt to be a neatly folded winter blanket, rubbing her thumb across the soft fabric. Then it struck her that she’d have to _remove_ her clothes first. “Ah.”
Kennyo retrieved a torch from his small travel pack. He stuck it into an empty sconce and busied himself with lighting it.
_Well_ , Reika said to herself, biting the inside of her cheek, _what’s a little changing clothes among travel companions? Just a perfectly mundane thing we’ve avoided so far._
Flames danced to life with a thin plume of smoke. They illuminated Kennyo in a warm glow, and Reika felt her chest tighten further. He didn’t look at her before striding to the door.
“Oh, wait!” Her exclamation escaped with the now-visible cloud of her breath. Reika reached out to him as Kennyo began to lift the bar. “No.”
“You worry about your modesty,” Kennyo said, back still to her, “but if you leave them on like that, you’ll freeze.”
“I’m not—” Reika cut herself off. She was worried about _him_ freezing, not her modesty, but maybe now wasn’t the time to argue with his bad habit of assuming feelings she didn’t have. “Or you could just stay facing the door. That way you don’t let more snow inside.”
Kennyo didn’t speak, so she added, “Deal?”
“Fine.” He lowered the bar again. His posture was impossibly rigid, and it might have been humorous if she weren’t so nervous herself. She had to scramble to the other side of the room and turn away from him before she peeled away the chilled cloth of her haori and kimono. Reika quickly wrapped her exposed torso in the thick blanket and tried to keep it in place around her shoulders with one hand, thinking she could pull her kimono’s multiple layers into position with the other.
After the fourth time she dropped the blanket while trying to get her arm through a sleeve, she gave up. “I might... need help.”
Kennyo sighed with the heaviness of a man who thought himself the victim of some cosmic prank. Nevertheless, the familiar cadence of his footfalls across the packed earth floor prompted Reika to glance over her shoulder.
When their eyes met, sparks shimmered through her veins. Reika whipped her attention back towards the wall, where the wood’s rough grain became extremely interesting.
Standing behind her, Kennyo reached around to touch her hand that held the blanket. “It won’t stay in place like this.”
Reika swallowed, then nodded.
“Lift your arms,” he said. Kennyo held the blanket in place as she did so. She focused on the wall while he adjusted her blanket to drape across her neck and shoulders, much like a traditional monk’s robe might, and held up the layers of her kimono and haori so she could slip her arms back through the drenched sleeves. (She only hissed a _little_ at the cold.) Reika focused even harder when he reached around her to tie everything in place with her obi, creating a soft pressure around her waist. His movements were light, quick, and precise. No accidental brushes to feel awkward about—but her face burned, anyway.
As soon as he finished the tie, Kennyo strode across the room once more. Reika released her breath and turned to fall back against the wall, using it to slide down to a sit. The momentary heat of nervousness evaporated back into the freezing air. Now, even bundled up, she couldn’t stop shivering.
Kennyo, meanwhile, dropped cross-legged against the wall opposite. He pressed his palms to his knees and closed his eyes, clearly intent on soothing his own frazzled nerves. “Practice your warming breath.”
“Right.” Reika settled her hands on her belly and let her tongue rest just behind her front teeth. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose. It wasn’t a great start—her nostrils burned from the smokey, biting air, and her shaking made each inhale stutter in her chest, each exhale released too quickly. |
8716e96716b74ffcb929f0aa6cba24d4 | ['adb7e6877678435d89a7e31b8a2b6793'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This is probably out of character and ridiculously cheesy and just an overall mess, but I really wanted to write a 5+1 fic. Also, what I defined as "flirting" for this work is preeeeeeeetty ambiguous. Unedited, so all of the many mistakes are mine.
i.
“So, how’s the boyfriend?”
Tony notices how Clay broaches the subject awkwardly. He leans against the door of Tony’s mustang, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes averted to the ground. They never really talk about Tony’s love life, not out of avoidance per say, rather of sympathy for Clay. Sure, it has been awhile since the whole ordeal with the tapes, and they’ve been hanging out more, but Tony can still sense the residual sadness surrounding him. He’s surprised that Clay was the one to bring it up, since he always seemed a bit uncomfortable.
Tony fiddles with the hood of his mustang for a bit before standing up to answer Clay’s question.
“Well, his _name_ is Brad.” Tony meets Clay’s eyes, who looks away again guiltily. “And we broke up. A couple weeks ago, actually. We wanted different things”
“Oh! I didn’t know. Sorry about that.”
Clay’s face morphs into the cute expression he makes when he’s confused: eyebrows furrowed, pink mouth pouting and hanging open slightly. That goddamn adorable face of his never fails to tug at Tony’s heart. He had always dismissed his feelings for Clay, since it was never the right time to act on them. First, there had been the gay rumors, so that would have been the last thing Clay needed. Then there was Hannah, who flew in like a beautiful whirlwind, and Tony had never been one to compete with love, thus he stood off to the sidelines and cheered her on. The tapes and the trial had been a whole new level of traumatizing, but a couple of months later Clay had begun to return to normal. So perhaps it’s the newfound simplicity of their situation, that allows Tony to finally make a move.
“No, it’s fine.” Tony takes a few steps closer to Clay, flicking his eyes up and down. “Actually, I’ve had my eye on someone else lately.”
Another moment of confusion registers on Clay’s face, but he soon straightens up and faces Tony as realization seems to dawn upon him.
“I knew it!”
“Really? You knew? And you’re fine with it?” Tony says, taken aback by Clay’s forwardness.
“It was so obvious! You guys stared at each other like ten times. Not that I was counting or anything, but still.” Clay gets flustered, blood rushing to his ears. “You are talking about the dude who came to get his car fixed, right? And of course I’m fine with it, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Right,” Tony nods, disappointed that Clay missed the point, and returns to the car.
ii.
Tony sprawls on the couch while Clay paces across the room, the TV rolling credits long forgotten. It’s late on what Clay dubbed “Star Wars Saturday,” instated after Clay found out Tony only vaguely remembered watching the series as a child. That night, the trouble started with an offhand comment by Tony of how the Empire Strikes Back was overrated compared to the Return of the Jedi. Clay had gotten up with such a ferocity that Tony was surprised he didn’t pull out a full on powerpoint on why Tony doesn’t know shit about Star Wars. Now, Tony watches happily from the couch, thinking how nice it is to see Clay passionate about something, albeit something extremely nerdy.
“...and finally, the storyline for Return of the Jedi is practically a carbon copy of the Empire strikes back!” Clay plops down next to Tony on the couch, satisfied with his argument.
“Oh, and you should hate Return of the Jedi, cuz, you know, Yoda dies in it.” Tony watches Clay smile widely for this one, obviously quite proud of himself.
“So if I’m still Yoda, you must be Luke,” Tony quips. “Teach you the ways of the force, I will,” he whispers, looking straight into Clay’s clear blue eyes, which come to think of it, do actually look a lot like Skywalker’s.
“I fancy myself more as a Han Solo,” Clay laughs, meeting Tony’s skeptic eyebrow raise.
“Really?”
“Really! After all, I am the epitome of rugged manliness.” Clay flexes a bicep, much to Tony’s amusement and enjoyment.
“You know, I think I could make a good Princess Leia.”
Surely the guy’s not dumb enough to miss this one, Tony thinks to himself. After all, it is a Star Wars reference. He’s practically speaking Clay’s language!
“No silly, you could never get your hair into those buns.” Clay smiles at him and reaches over to poke his shoulder. “You’re Yoda. Always.”
Tony sighs loudly, and mumbles something about watching the next movie. Leaning further back into the couch, he guesses he’ll just have to settle for being Yoda, always.
iii.
Since Clay clearly doesn’t listen, Tony’s gonna stop speaking and start doing. That’s why he dragged Clay to Monet’s, literally just to stare soulfully into his eyes. Well, he hasn’t gotten to that second part yet, as purposefully romancing someone with your eyes is a lot easier said than done. They’re sitting across from each other at a corner table, each sipping slowly at a warm hot chocolate.
“Do you mind telling me the purpose for this 9pm hot chocolate run?”
Tony vaguely remembers calling Clay in a fit of loneliness and longing, asking to meet him at Monet’s. Other than ordering a drink, he hasn’t said a word the entire time, and is beginning to feel the entire idea was just silly.
“You’ve gotta have hot chocolate at your house. You could have gone out to buy some.”
A few moments of silence pass by as Tony fixates on his drink, slowly stirring the melted whipped cream into the thick chocolate until it blends into dark beige. | 4939915b74494f129fcda7093fc89e50 | ['adb7e6877678435d89a7e31b8a2b6793'] | “Did you invite me hear just to ignore me?” Clay’s voice breaks a little with this one, sounding lost and confused.
Tony stiffens in his chair because hurting Clay was the last thing he had in mind for this night. He rips his gaze away from the drink to look up at Clay. One of his hands lies in a loose fist on the table, while the other grips at the mug. Clay meets Tony’s eyes warily, and Tony finds himself falling prey to his earlier plan. Turns out, the whole staring thing isn’t that hard once he starts, and soon Tony is the one finding himself lost. Still, he’s afraid all the staring comes off as a bit creepy, so Tony reaches his hands across the table, tangling their fingers together and rubbing his thumbs gently across Clay’s palms. A ray of hope shines down upon Tony when Clay doesn’t let go, even tightens his grip, only to be extinguished by his following words.
“Are you okay?” The look of genuine concern on Clay’s face brings Tony out of his trance and back to the world where zoning off doesn’t fall into the category of proper flirting techniques for Clay Jensen.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony says, punctuating the last word. He withdraws hands and folds them across his chest.
“If this is about Hannah, I get it.”
This gets Tony’s attention. He remembers too many instances of Clay calling him in the middle of the night, sobbing, because of another Hannah nightmare. Flirtation attempts be darned, Clay’s health always came first to Tony no matter what.
“You’ve been having those dreams again?”
“What-no-I mean yes, now and then, but they’ve gotten better.”
Tony doesn’t find this answer acceptable, and he presses Clay for more.
“Explain.”
And Clay does explain. For two hours, in fact. They talk over two more cups of hot chocolate, and even after they get kicked out of Monet’s, they talk in Tony’s car. The conversation moves past Hannah to less draining topics, such as how Clay has never read the Harry Potter series. Tony thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, since how has Clay, a nerd in all the best possible ways, never read Harry fucking Potter? Laughter emanates throughout the car, until they forget what they were laughing about yet laugh anyways for the pure existence of it. Eventually, Clay’s mom calls and Tony drives Clay home. This time, Tony’s glad Clay couldn’t take a hint.
iv.
“Yo! Clay. Dance with me?”
“What?”
Tony rolls his eyes.
“I’d like to think that ‘dance with me’ has a pretty straightforward meaning.
“Tony, we’re in the middle of a grocery store. They’re barely playing actual music! It’s just five different covers of ‘Call Me Maybe” on repeat.”
_Well, I tried,_ Tony thinks to himself. _Goddamnit, Jensen._
v.
The party is loud, loud, loud, booming around Tony’s ears, enveloping him in a blanket of chatter and the latest sugary pop song. The buzz from the couple of beers he downed started kicking in about ten minutes ago, and he feels great. Tony doesn’t like parties, and he doesn’t like getting wasted, but it’s senior year and he could give less of a fuck. He has heard quite a few things about drinking to drown sorrows, and currently he has one blue eyed sorrow that he’d like to kiss instead of drown. No, it isn’t Clay himself that frustrates Tony; rather, his obliviousness or avoidance of Tony’s flirting attempts. Many nights have been spent pondering whether Clay was just really thick when it comes to romance, and many more to the less pleasant option of Clay not returning his feelings.
_Speaking of Clay, where is the handsome devil,_ Tony wonders. Last he saw him, Clay had said something about “bathroom,” and “stay where you are.” A sense of dread fills Tony, quicker now with the aid of alcohol, and his mind can only focus on one thing: find Clay. Pushing through the mass of partiers, Tony pays no attention to the weird looks he gets.
“Clay? Clay? Have you seen Clay Jensen anywhere?”
Eventually, Tony grows tired and sits down to sulk. By the time Clay finds him curled up on a couch, hiccupping, he has forgotten why he was so worried, and instead remembers that he needs to tell Clay something.
“Tony! Where have you been? You look like shit!”
“You-hiccup- look. Eyes.” Tony gestures towards Clay’s face convincingly.
“Eyes, hmm?” Clay smirks down at Tony and raises his eyebrows. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” He reaches down and pulls Tony up, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Tony doesn’t protest and leans into Clay’s touch, not making a sound except for an occasional hiccup. They make it outside of the house to where Clay’s bike lies chained to the fence.
“Your house is only two blocks from here,” he reminds Tony, readjusting their positioning so he can wheel the bike alongside them.
Tony looks up at Clay and is hit with an overwhelming sense of trust. He wants nothing more than to spin poems and stories and novels about the curve of Clay’s lips and the light in Clay’s eyes, of the love that has slowly consumed him and made him think of writing sappy love poems for fuck’s sake. But somehow this jumble of thoughts only permeates itself into one word.
“Blue.” Tony affirms this with a light touch to Clay’s cheek.
“Wait, what?”
“Eyes. Blue.”
“Ohhh. Yeah, they are.” Clay gently smiles down at his friend, whose face lights up into a bigger smile.
“You’re -hiccup- very pretty.”
“Well I guess I have this you know, natural beauty thing going on. I’m glad someone finally noticed.”
Tony bursts out into giggles, pressing his face deeper into Clay’s shoulder.
“You’re funny too!”
“Now you’re just fanning my ego,” Clay laughs. |
5cad30b203454724b855665451c0f8b4 | ['adb85acd3d8848478923470fe4264732'] |
Dr. Charley, PhD
“I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine!”
“That’s the spirit! Say it again!”
“I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine!”
“Yes! Good! My Lyft is here Apollo, I have to go. Good night! I hope you feel better, I’ll check back in tomorrow morning!”
“Thanks Athena, for everything! See you tomorrow.” Apollo waved, turned, and entered empty the W.A.A. office.
“I’m Apollo Justice and I’m… fuck it.”
Apollo threw the keys on the table and fell face first on the couch.
“Owwww,” he moaned. Why’d he done that? His face had come in direct contact with a spring. Damn this old couch that Mr. Wright will never replace.
The buzz of alcohol was wearing off now, and it allowed Apollo to reevaluate his life with greater clarity. He groaned, punching the couch a few times for good measure. Tonight had sucked. Gavin sucked. He sucked.
Few minutes of heavy ruminations later later, Apollo began to worry that the dilapidated couch spring was beginning to bruise his forehead. He turned to rest his cheek on the couch instead, surprised to find himself face-to-face with Charley, who stood partially illuminated by a streak of light a few feet away. He blinked a few times. He didn’t remember flicking on the light switch. His sluggish mind, after a few moments of intense analysis, surmised that yes the office lights were indeed off, but there was a full moon and the blinds were open. God, he still had some sobering up to do. Confused by a beam of light hitting Charley, how unfortunate.
Speaking of which, Charley was usually in the corner. How odd. Apollo reached out to touch the plant.
_Congrats Charley, you’re my best friend now. You’re always there for me. Never interrupting, never judging, only listening._
Apollo gently stroked a branch.
What had even happened, exactly? Apollo tried to replay the last hour and a half in his head. He had gotten drunk at a Gavinners party, met a former acquaintance of Clay, and punched the guy in the face.
No, no, there were more steps between meeting the guy and punching him. Apollo’s mind was moving too fast.
He had met this former acquaintance of Clay – Clavecin, or Clavi for short – in a quieter part of the club, close to the entrance. He had been enjoying a small moment of peace - having just escaped Mr. Wright and Athena’s calls to the dancefloor - when Gavin approached him, arm-in-arm with Clavi, sporting a large, shit-eating grin on his face. Based on this expression, Apollo initially wondered if Gavin was going to set him up with this friend. Admittedly, Clavi hadn’t been unattractive. He was brown haired, strong jawed, and considerably taller than Apollo (though admittedly, most were).
In hindsight, Gavin must have been wasted at his own party, because what he really did was encourage Apollo and Clavi to bond over Clay Terran before walking away.
“He wanted us to bond over our dead friend, Charley. In a club.” Apollo ran his hands over his face at the memory.
And then this guy, this shitty, shitty guy, Clavi or whatever, had proceeded to make _fun_ of Clay’s dream of being an astronaut, calling Clay naive and delusional, not knowing that he was dead. That’s when Apollo, drunk and emotional, had punched the guy in the face.
Sudden thirst momentarily derailed Apollo’s train of thought. Not eager to welcome the next day with a hangover, he hoisted himself from the couch and headed into the kitchen, where he found exactly zero clean cups and a broken dishwasher. A few grumbles, two soapy hands, and one empty sink later, Apollo returned to the couch with a freshly washed cup of water. After a few refreshing gulps, he felt slightly more human again. Now, where was he. Ah, yes –
Apollo had immediately felt himself being dragged from scene and placed at the end of the bar, far, far away from the party hubbub, where he could start crying in peace. Unfortunately, the moment of solitary catharsis was a short lived, because he soon felt a hand press softly on his shoulder. Apollo looked up to see a blurry Gavin, and for a hot, horrifying second, thought he was looking at Kristoph. Wiping tears away, Apollo looked up again to see, with great relief, that Klavier was standing above him.
“Herr Forehead, do you need some water?” A floating glass appeared before Apollo.
“No,” he mumbled. The glass disappeared.
“Do you want me to call you a Lyft?”
“N-No.” Apollo was crying again.
Gavin’s arm had then wrapped around him, hand patting his shoulder sympathetically as Apollo tried, rather unsuccessfully, to gather himself.
Gavin chuckled. “You’re quite the emotional drunk, aren’t you Herr Forehead?”
“He- He made fun of Clay. Said his dreams were stupid.” Apollo was now sobbing into his hands.
“What?” Gavin, shocked, pulled away a bit to look at Apollo better.
“Y-Yeah. Didn’t know he was dead.”
Gavin was silent for a moment. Then, softly, “I’m so sorry Apollo. I didn’t know.”
Apollo took a deep, shaky, breath to steady himself and proceeded to wipe an inordinate amount of snot on his arm. Wincing at the memory, and silently praying he was remembering incorrectly, Apollo checked his sleeve. Even in the darkness of Mr. Wright’s office, he could make out a large dark splotch on his forearm. Fantastic. Hopefully Gavin hadn’t noticed that.
“I need to say sorry.”
“What? No Herr Forehead, stay here until you feel better. You can always apologize to Clavi later.”
Shaking his head, Apollo stood up. “No. Need to say sorry now. It’s the right thing to do.”
Gavin forced him back in his seat. “No. Listen Apollo, you’re not feeling well and honestly, Clavi probably isn’t either. You don’t want to start a fight. Let things cool down first.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “You should wait until tomorrow to apologize. _That_ would be the right thing to do.” | 6a0d7967147644dc810ec7a85c5b041b | ['adb85acd3d8848478923470fe4264732'] | “So I shouldn’t apologize? But I punched him.” Tears were welling up again.
“Don’t think of it not apologizing. Think of it… as, er, being the bigger person.”
“Huh?”
“Ja, ja, be the bigger person by giving him some time to calm down before apologizing.”
The Apollo that was sobering up on Mr. Wright’s couch could see that Gavin had pulled that shitty logic straight out of his ass. Drunk Apollo from an hour ago however had eaten it right up.
“I just, I feel so bad.” Apollo had covered his face in his palms, his shoulders shaking under Gavin’s arm.
“There’s no need to feel bad, Herr Forehead. Just be the bigger person.”
“But I can’t,” Apollo sobbed, “I’m only 5’5”.”
Apollo took a pillow, stuffed it on his face, and screamed. Then, he took a second pillow and layered it on the first in hopes of suffocating himself. Unfortunately, Mr. Wright’s pillows were as grimy as his couch, and their stench was so unbearable that Apollo had to postpone ending it all to hurl the pillows across the room.
He then collapsed into an embarrassed slump. “Why did I say that, Charley. He’ll never think I’m cool…”
You know who was cool? Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. Now that was a cool, cool man. Apollo had often thought that if he’d chosen the prosecutorial route, he would have applied for an internship with Mr. Edgeworth instead.
Maybe that’s why Gavin preferred Mr. Edgeworth. Mr. Edgeworth was classy. Mr. Edgeworth was refined. He was accomplished. Everything that Apollo wasn’t, but so desperately wanted to be.
Come to think of it, what had Mr. Edgeworth done tonight? He hadn’t attended the rowdy Gavinners party, despite surely being extended an invitation. The kindred, introverted spirit had chosen a quiet, refined Friday night in instead of feeling out of place at some gawdy nightclub. Apollo flushed, embarrassed that he had been goaded, once again, into doing something that he didn’t want to do. A prick of jealousy flared within Apollo.
“I can’t believe I went to something so dumb,” Apollo muttered to Charley. No, how would Mr. Edgeworth put it? He always sounded so sophisticated. “I can’t believe I did something so... frivolous.” That was better. “Mr. Edgeworth is so… _accomplished_ , Charley. I’m sure he didn’t waste his 20s at parties. How did he always have his life so together…”
Somewhere, annoyingly at the forefront of his consciousness, Apollo was aware that he didn’t always resent the man’s accomplishments. He had once purely admired Mr. Edgeworth, and this admiration had only morphed into jealousy a few months ago, when he began suspecting a strong camaraderie between the Chief Prosecutor and Klavier Gavin.
Also at the forefront of Apollo’s mind was the awareness of how idiotic he would sound if he breathed a word of this jealousy any semi-rational human being.
So he turned to Charley instead.
* * *
The first time he did this, it went like this: on a crisp November afternoon, Apollo had found himself alone in the W.A.A. apartment. He had been been freshly abandoned by Mr. Wright and Athena - the pair had run out for an investigation without realizing their partner was still in the bathroom - and he took this opportunity to finish some chores around the office. Apollo didn’t mind the extra grunt work today; his mind had been ruminating in something Gavin had told him the day before, so he welcomed the mindless distraction. Unfortunately, Apollo had already chosen to use cleaning as a distraction the previous night, and after 20 minutes of scrubbing at the already sparkling bathroom, Apollo conceded that he didn’t have any more chores to distract himself with, other than watering Charley.
Apollo cursed silently while filling the watering can, sensing his anxious thoughts bubble up again. God, he wished he could talk to someone about this, just one long rant, that’s all, enough to relieve his mind from circular worries and this silly nonsense for good. But how would such a rant go? Umm, hi, Mr. Wright? Can I talk to you about how I feel absolutely miniscule because of a friendship between Gavin and Mr. Edgeworth? ( _Or a relationship between Gavin and Mr. Edgeworth._ The nasty thought occasionally raged in Apollo’s thoughts only to be quickly smothered.) No. That simply wouldn’t do.
Walking to the living room, Apollo eyed Charley. Charley was a person, kind of. He was the office’s most decorated employee, receiving more care and affection from the agency than he ever did. As Apollo stood inspecting Charley as he tipped the glass to water the immortal plant, he drifted back and forth between ranting to an inanimate object until finally, he blurted out, “Gavin said he had invited Mr. Edgeworth to his apartment to review case files.”
_But Apollo,_ Charley seemed to reply, with branches waving wisely, _Mr. Wright invites you over all the time for the same purpose._
“This is different. Mr. Wright has Trucy and needs to be home by 6pm. All consultations after the work day has to be done in his apartment and he-”
_You don’t even know if Mr. Edgeworth accepted Gavin’s request,_ interrupted Charley with an audacity that surprised the attorney, _Why worry about something you don’t know even happened? For all you know, Mr. Edgeworth rejected Gavin’s offer._
Apollo nodded, his unease quenched slightly.
An hour later, “And _another_ thing!” Apollo muttered frantically beside his new leafy friend, “When Gavin said he was late to lunch due to an issue at the office, did he _really_ mean he had an issue? Or was he late because he was frolicking with Mr. Edgeworth?”
_Of course not, Apollo. Gavin can be a workaholic and probably was held up by paperwork. Or a jam session. You know how those euro-rockstars are._
“Yeah but, can’t you see them, Charley? Alone in Mr. Edgeworth’s office, bonding over a shared love of Germany?”
Charley didn’t have anything to say to that. |
dcaa844d5c614c4da145c9af69e49830 | ['adc21a0be6df49d7bc6be752f282933c'] | It was late, but Harry didn’t have time to waste. As soon as he unlocked the door to his flat he went straight to his typewriter. The thing had been an old gift to Harry when he was younger. His mother used to read the stories he would write down on paper, so she thought the typewriter would be a nice gift and less expensive than a laptop. She was right, Harry had been attached to it ever since. Thoughts and ideas ran through Harry’s head and demanded to be written, so he plugged away at the keys. An hour passed before Harry decided to take a second and look over his work. He read through and was quite pleased with himself until he realized how little he had written. He went back and frantically counted the pages, hoping he had just read through them a little too quickly. His fingers brushed through the pile in his hand, flipping through each page and checking to make sure none were stuck together. Twelve. Harry had only written twelve pages. “Shit.” His voice echoed through the dark, empty flat. He placed the pages down on the right side of his desk and propped his elbows up onto the desk top, resting his head in his hands. His hands rubbed down his face and brushed through his hair. _Just keep writing_ , he thought to himself. But as his fingers rested back on the typewriter keys, he froze. His eyes closed in concentration as he scoured his mind for more. Nothing came to him. His encounters with the boy were only enough for twelve pages. That won’t do. Harry needed more.
The next night, Harry went back to the retro diner at the same time as he arrived the night before. He requested the same table and only ordered a small salad, not wanting to feed his body diner food two nights in a row. He ate slowly and waited for any sign of the boy he saw last night, but none came. Many people came and went, songs droned on and on, beautiful voices were heard, but none that belonged to the boy. Harry sat there until only a few straggling customers remained. Then the diner closed and Harry was forced to leave empty-handed. He lay in bed and convinced himself that the boy simply did not have a shift that night and he would return tomorrow to see his blue eyed boy bouncing from table to table once again. Except the next night was the same. In fact, every night for the next two weeks was the same. Harry arrived at 6:45 p.m., was seated at the very table where he was seated the first night, and stayed until closing at 12 a.m. For two weeks, there was not a single trace of him. On Monday of the third week, Harry had had enough. When the hostess asked him if he would like a table and how many would be joining him today (even though she already knew the answer and had picked up on Harry’s nightly routine), Harry confronted her about the boy.
“Do you know of a young man who works here? He has a light brown fringe, blue eyes and a British accent I believe.”
“You mean Louis? I’m sorry sir, he had to quit a few weeks ago. He’s in one of the off-Broadway shows and his rehearsal schedule didn’t work well with his hours here.”
Quit? Harry couldn’t wrap his head around the word. _Quit_? As in, no longer employed here? Meaning Harry had no chance of ever seeing him again? It couldn’t be. Harry needed him.
“Do you know which show he’ll be performing in?”
“No. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Great.” Harry turned and walked out of the diner. The boy, Louis was in a show. An off-Broadway show could last anywhere from a month to half a year depending on how much it grosses in the box office. Harry didn’t have that kind of time. He needed to talk with him and learn the journey of the boy’s life and be inspired to write. He had no spark for seven months until he saw Louis, he was not willing to scrap it and try for a new idea. It had to be the one Louis gave him. It had to be.
Harry went to three off-Broadway shows a week, it was all his bank account could allow, and scanned the playbill for a boy with the name of Louis. His editor called twice, Harry didn’t dare to answer. Each day was the same, he’d eat, take a shower, sit at his desk and stare at the typewriter, praying for something, anything to write about. His nights were unbearable, hours were spent staring at the ceiling as if he were waiting for an idea to sprout in between the wall panels. Two months and twenty-four shows later, all Harry had were a plethora of playbills stacked in the corner of his room and a migraine.
**Author's Note:**
> This isn't finished, it barely has begun. But I don't have much determination to keep going. So if you happen to read this and enjoy it, please let me know here or @USER on twitter (i will most likely see your message on twitter first) and I will continue. Thank you. | 066cc9c85aca4e05b30edc1c2d1bd41d | ['adc21a0be6df49d7bc6be752f282933c'] | “I’m with Niall on that one, I can’t sit through another one of your ‘classics’, sorry mate.” Zayn adds. Harry furrows his eyebrows and looks up at them both, not knowing how to defend himself without whining. He decides to stays silent and pout in his seat.
“No worries, lads. It’s still my choice. There are auditions for the play tonight, and I want Harry to join me.”
“Why not?” Zayn asks, “Sounds pretty interesting to me.”
“Really?” Harry doesn’t sound convinced. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
Niall chuckles, “You won’t any more than you normally do. Why don’t we all go?”
“What? You’re going to audition?” Harry looks at them all like they have three heads. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well we can’t let you have all the fun, now can we? You coming with us, Liam?” Niall looks to him, but Liam doesn’t respond. He whistles and waves his hand in front of Liam’s face, but his eyes stay fixed on the table in front of them. Louis follows Liam’s gaze to see Ivy Blair sitting at her table with two other girls, her lunch tray pushed to the side and a sketch book in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be listening to the girls at her table, and they don’t acknowledge her or invite her into their conversation. They just chat away as she silently moves a pen about the book page. For the first time Louis doesn’t see her as the label she’s burdened with. She looks lost, lonely, and…beautiful. This must be the girl Liam has seen, it’d be easy for anyone to fall in love with her.
“He’s in love.” Niall bats his eyelashes and puts his face close to Liam’s. Liam immediately pulls his head back and looks from Niall to the rest of the boys.
“What? Sorry, I think I zoned out for a bit. What are we doing?”
“Yeah, you zoned out all right. If ya would’ve stared any longer hearts would’ve melted out of your eyes.” Niall draws two ketchup hearts on his chicken nuggets and holds them up to his eyes, mimicking Liam’s face as he stares at Ivy. All the boys laugh except Liam, who’s face turns red. He slaps the nuggets out of Niall’s hands as he keeps up his laughing fit.
“Quit it! She’ll think we’re watching her if you do shit like that!”
Niall gathers up his chicken nugget massacre before looking up and grinning at Liam. “If she didn’t notice your lovesick puppy face before, she never will.” |
b17583ed5d234e3f90ff10db76353adf | ['adc3d8e8abaa4493bbefbda597318ffb'] | Misato was beyond hearing. No more, she thought dimly, wondering who was making those horrible choking sounds, I won't let you hurt me, or anyone any MORE!! Do you understand!?! Amber, if you can hear me… this is the most I can do for you…
Fletcher grunted as Misato's hand shot out and grabbed the handle on the small door to their right, yanking it open and slamming it into the side of his head. "Heh," he chuckled, blinking as a trickle of blood ran into his eye, "nice try…"
Keeping her throat tightly in one hand, Fletcher grabbed her arm and slammed it against the metal door, grinning as the woman let out a mewling whimper.
"Now wha-"
With the last of her strength, Misato pistoned her left hand forward and drove her cross pendant into Fletcher's eye.
"AHHH!!!" Fletcher howled with rage, clutching his face with both hands and letting Misato slip to the floor. "My eye!!" he screamed, "You put out my fucking EYE!!!"
Misato, lacking the strength to stand, started to crawl towards her gun. Just… a little… further… she thought, coughing harshly as she drew deep, sweet lungfuls of air.
"I don't THINK SO!!"
Pain exploded in her back as Fletcher's boot came crashing down on her spine.
"Die!" the man hollered. "Die! DIE! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!!!"
Again and again, the boot came down, battering Misato's back, thighs, shoulders and buttocks, somehow finding her no matter how she tried to roll or crawl away. Then, her movement was brought to a halt as Fletcher's boot settled against the back of her neck.
For a long moment, only the sound of their ragged, harsh breathing could be heard… until Fletcher grated, "Enjoy Hell."
Misato groaned desperately as the boot was lifted, knowing that the killing blow was less than a second away… but she did not apologize any more. I gave it all I had, you guys, she thought, closing her eyes and picturing her friends with a tired smile, I really… really did. You believe me, don't y-
A terrible screeching sound pierced the air, rattling the entire room.
"What the… NO!! NO GET OFF ME!!!"
Misato opened her eyes, lifting her battered head as Fletcher began screaming.
"GET THE FUCK OFF MEEEEE!!!"
From one of the little doors in the wall… a mass of dull gray, leathery arms was sprouting like a tenacious weed, writhing all over as they blindly sought sustenance. Two of them, Misato noticed belatedly, had wrapped around Fletcher's waist, and were slowly pulling him towards the dark opening.
"Get off me!" Fletcher roared, pulling ineffectually at the arms. "Get the fuck off me you motherfucker!!"
Still gasping for breath, Misato staggered to her feet.
"Help me!!"
She flinched as Fletcher called out to her… but after a moment of silence she simply limped over to Ritsuko and began shaking her awake.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!!" Fletcher raged. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking KILL YOU!!!"
Misato managed to get the still-groggy head of Project E to her feet, slinging her arm over her shoulder and starting towards the door. "Enjoy Hell."
"AHHH!!! FUCK Y-"
Misato tried to move faster as Fletcher's scream was cut off by a sickening, mind-numbing crunch. It sounded, Misato decided, like an entire truckload of eggs getting sucked into a jet engine. Pure, utter annihilation.
"M-Misato!" Ritsuko coughed as they neared the exit. "Look!!"
Risking a glance over her shoulder, but avoiding looking at the door Fletcher had just been drawn through, Misato caught a fleeting glimpse of a girl in a high-school uniform. She was clean and fresh and glowing, as if she had just stepped out of the shower, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a simple, red bow. She caught Misato's eye… and a soft smile spread over her pretty features, taking the operations director's breath away with its simplicity and honest, uninhibited gratitude.
The girl raised her hand in a brief wave… and disappeared as if she had never been.
"Come on," Ritsuko urged, "Maya's with me, but we got separated when Fletcher jumped me and shoved me in here… we have to find her!"
"R-right," Misato managed, pulling her eyes away from where the girl had been.
Goodbye, Amber, she thought sadly. God rest your soul…
Together, she and Ritsuko hurried out of the room.
**
Maya, it turned out, was hiding in the very next room, clutching a rusted butcher knife – which very nearly found its way into Ritsuko's chest as the tech cried, "Oh, Sempai!!" and ran to greet her superior.
"Watch it with that thing!" Ritsuko shouted, catching the younger woman's wrist and forcing the knife downward before it could gut her.
"S-sorry," Maya panted, "I... when we ran in that… that man, I just panicked. Major!" she gasped as she beheld Misato's bruised features. "What… happened?"
"Payback's a bitch," Misato whispered enigmatically, "and I guess she has a sense of humour."
Maya and Ritsuko exchanged a glance as the operations director knelt on the floor and tried to catch her breath.
"We ummm… thought we could help if we came in with you," Ritsuko said after a moment's hesitation, "you shouldn't have left without us, Misato."
"Sorry," Misato apologized, "I just… I thought I'd have found him by now. I just – I KNEW he was in he-"
"We're close to wherever Shinji is…" Ritsuko interjected softly. "Definitely…" When Misato looked at her questioningly, Ritsuko elaborated.
"Listen, everyone here has had some connection to Shinji. Misato, you were his guardian and his commanding officer… I was the chairperson of the project Shinji became a part of… Maya was a colleague of Shinji's, and the Commander was his father and the commander of NERV…"
"Amber was a girl Shinji befriended," Misato nodded, "and Fletcher… well…" reluctantly, she explained what had happened to Amber and what she had seen on those DVD in her room.
"Could all this have something to do with Shinji?" asked Maya. | d6cb3d989f2c4c9bb8eebdcc577adbdc | ['adc3d8e8abaa4493bbefbda597318ffb'] | "Huh," Misato whispered, tapping one of the books thoughtfully, "maybe it was a mistake when it was rung up? No… he wouldn't have signed it…" She rose to her feet and rested her chin in her palm, taking another look around the bookstore. "Or maybe," she said softly, "it was in a different section." She grinned to herself as her eyes happened on a small shelf tucked in the corner.
The sign over the shelf read Clearance.
With a sense of certainty, Misato strode over to the shelf and began scanning it. "Clive Barker," she muttered, "Stephen King… SD Perry… man, they're just clearing out all their horror, aren't they??"
Pushing a handful of novels aside, she found what she was looking for.
"Eww!!"
The lone copy of The Growth Patterns of New England Wildflowers was the single most disgusting book Misato had ever seen. The cover, depicting a wild rose of some sort, was so dingy and crusted with filth that Misato did not even want to touch it. On corner of the book appeared to have been chewed on by a large dog, which had apparently succeeded in cracking the spine and tearing the bottom corner of the front cover clean off.
Then there was the matter of the large clump of some brown substance clinging to the top, partially obscuring the small 'only $.05!!' sticker in the upper corner.
Why me? she thought, her fingers twitching in subconscious revulsion as she beheld the vile book. Why does stuff like this always happen to ME!?
With a pre-emptive cry of disgust, Misato let her hand shoot out and seize the book, pulling it towards her and praying that this might have an answer to at least ONE of her questions. Instead of sliding out, however, the book tilted forward, a heavy clunk echoing from some hidden mechanism behind the shelf.
With silent awe, Misato rose to her feet and watched as the clearance shelf laboriously moved to the side, exposing a narrow stone staircase.
"Now that's something you don't see every day."
Misato whirled around, relief flooding her at the familiar voice. "Ritsuko!" she cried. "Oh thank God! I thought you were dead!"
Ritsuko smiled. "I nearly was," she muttered dryly, "one of those damned winged demons dropped out of nowhere and tried to eat me, so I ran. By the time I lost it and made my way back to the school, I couldn't find you anywhere." She shrugged. "So I figured I'd just lay low in one of the houses around here until I caught my breath… then I saw you go in here, followed you, and here we are."
Misato nodded. "Did you see any sign of Shinji?" she asked bluntly.
The atmosphere of the town was wearing on her, forcing her to discard simple ideas like courtesy and manners.
Ritsuko seemed to understand. "I did see someone," she said slowly, biting her bottom lip pensively, "but I wasn't sure if it was Shinji… I was kind of far away."
"You just let him go!?" exclaimed Misato.
If possible, Ritsuko looked even more flustered. "Well, no - I didn't really have a choice!" She took a deep breath. "He was walking on thin air!"
"What??"
"You heard me," Ritsuko sighed, rubbing her eyes in a tired fashion. "I couldn't see who it was from where I was standing, but it looked like a young man with black hair… and he was walking over a twenty-five foot crevasse in Bachman Road in the direction of the lake… so, yeah, I didn't really have a chance to stop him, since I left my jetpack back at NERV!"
An awkward silence fell between the two, broken when Misato mumbled, "Sorry."
"I understand," Ritsuko said calmly, "I want to find him just as much as you do." Her eyes flicked to the stairwell. "What's this?"
"I don't know," shrugged Misato, "just found it."
Ritsuko checked her shotgun. "You want to go first, or me?"
Misato considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "You stay here and watch the entrance for me to make sure no one follows me, and I'll check it out." She hesitated, then asked, "Have you ever met the chief of police?"
"No, why?"
Misato quickly outlined her experiences in the police station, including Gendou, Fletcher, the wallet, and the little bit she understood about the drug investigation - simply because it now seemed to have a bearing on finding Shinji.
"I can see why you'd be nervous about someone sneaking up on you," Ritsuko said, looking a bit green as she considered what might happen to her if her former lover got his hands on her, "be careful."
"You too."
Misato went down the dark tunnel, snapping on her flashlight after a few feet. Someone forgot to pay the power bill, she thought grimly, I think… I'm starting to hate this town - not just dislike it or find it creepy, I actually HATE it!
After about fifteen feet, the narrow hallway opened up into a small, alcove like room… complete with what looked suspiciously like an alter whose centrepiece was an elaborately decorated brazier, carved with symbols she did not recognize, but still made her uneasy. Tapestries hung on either side of the brazier, and the floor under the altar had been painted in a rough, unhealthy looking diagram.
Kind of like the Tree of Life the Commander has on his ceiling, Misato thought, letting her eyes follow the diagram's serpentine pattern. Man, I wonder what kind of sick stuff went on here… wait, no I don't - I don't want to kn- |
93a4fd69ad4944ca963228d1d5663719 | ['adcaf1be4f6440a580359a5c77a15de0'] | Once he was finally gone, Ruby could have collapsed with relief, despite the threat of him returning hanging in the air. Luckily, Ozpin returned his hand to her side to hold her up and he started to walk again. Silently. This time, the silence that hung in the air was thick with unspoken words. Since the argument was over, the others that had stopped to watch continued on with their day. It was as if time had stopped for a fight, and it was only then starting up again. Nervously, Ruby looked up at Ozpin to see his jaw was still tense and his eyes were darkened in just-barely-kept-in fury. Ruby gulped and looked back down at the sidewalk. Ruby resolved that next time, she would stand up for herself.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I have the next chapter already almost done, would you guys like for me to upload as soon as I finish or wait until next week? :)
10. Chapter 10
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Tooth rotting-ly sweet fluff, and then some aura training gone wrong.
The journey home was of a tense nature. Ozpin and Ruby barely said two words from the city to the airship, airship to campus, and campus to flat. What devastated Ruby the most was Ozpin barely touched her the whole way back, no casual snuggling, hug, hand-holding, or even an “accidental” brush against her thigh. The two of them had only been intimate for a day, and Ruby was already hooked on his affection. Already, her mind was tricking her into thinking Oz was mad at her, even though she knew he might have been keeping his distance for her sake. Ruby _ had _ just been confronted by her abuser, and that was usually traumatizing to a point. Except, Ruby felt fine for the most part. A little shaken up, but it was nothing she wasn’t already used to.
When Ozpin closed the door behind them and shed his jacket, Ruby turned to him, finally feeling her resolve break. “Okay, what’s the deal?” She squeaked, then coughed to try to cover it up.
“What do you mean?” Oz asked, obviously playing dumb. He had to have known what was bothering her. Why was he doing this?
“You haven’t touched me since back in the city, or even talked to me!” Ruby said, her voice unintentionally rising with each word. She didn’t mean to sound so needy but at this point, she couldn’t help it. Ruby had always been a “touchy-feely” person with Torchwick and when she lost it when she first moved in with Ozpin, she felt like a part of herself was missing. Now that she had it back, Ruby felt like she needed it more than ever.
Ozpin kept eye contact with her, silently. “Ruby…” He said, his voice much softer than before.
“Please…” Ruby broke away from Oz’s gaze and reached out, taking his hand into her’s and intertwining their fingers. “I’m sorry…”
Oz sighed, lightly squeezing her hand. “Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. Just go take a shower, I’ll start on lunch.”
Ruby nodded. “Okay…” She started to walk away, but paused and turned to address him over her shoulder. “...Sir.” Then, she scampered off to the bathroom.
Ozpin sighed and plopped down on the sofa, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for that bi-colored girl’s illusion, usually, he was much more on top of things. More observant to minor changes. To have let that criminal slip away was a very damaging blow to his pride. Oz knew what had distracted him in the first place, though. He had prioritized Ruby over his actual job, to incarcerate criminals and kill Grimm. When he took in Ruby all those weeks ago, Oz never would have thought she could have become that important to him. She was just supposed to be a weapon for his side, he wasn’t supposed to fall for her.
During Oz’s silent reflection, Ruby slipped out of the bathroom fully dressed once again. Her hair was still somewhat damp as she patted it down with a lime green towel. Her mood had increased after her shower, as it usually did, and she noticed Ozpin had barely moved since she left. She knew already when he was in deep thought, it was very easy to slip through his defenses so she trotted up behind him with a sneaky grin stretched across her pink lips. Ruby placed her hands over his eyes. “Guess who!” She said, giggling.
Oz couldn’t help but crack a tiny grin at her antics. He placed his hands on her’s. “Hmm, now it wouldn’t be a certain Ruby Rose, would it?” Oz said, then pulled her hands away. Ruby was standing on the tips of her toes to lean over him, her hair falling on his face and tickling his cheeks.
“Correct!” Ruby chirped, giggling. She leaned a little further down and pecked at his lips. “There’s your prize!”
“Oh, I believe I deserve more than that measly kiss, don’t you think?” Ozpin said, Ruby’s good mood becoming infectious.
“I don’t know, do you?” Ruby said slyly.
“Come here, you,” Ozpin said, reaching up to grab at her waist and pull her, squirming and giggling, over the couch and his head and setting her down on his lap. He let his hands stay on her waist while he peppered her cheeks with kisses, then her forehead and neck.
Ruby couldn’t stop laughing as she attempted to push his face away. “That tickles!” She squealed. Oz finally stopped and looked at her with a slight smile.
“Alright, stay here I’ll make lunch,” Ozpin said, shifting Ruby off his lap so he could stand up. | 8d18bf08ca31468093994fdedad288e8 | ['adcaf1be4f6440a580359a5c77a15de0'] | “Shit,” Fakir started, quickly flicking out the ashes and shoving the half smoked cigarette back into the pack. “Sorry.”
Tutu’s hand waved in front of her face, as a motion of dismissal as well as to clear the smoke around her head. “It’s okay, I just didn’t know you were a smoker.”
“I don’t do it all that often, just when I’m a little stressed. Anyhow, why’d you end the practice so suddenly? Got something in mind for them?” He asked, his hand tucked in his pocket as he fidgeted with his lighter.
Tutu chuckled. “Something like that. Hoping to get some trust building activities in, but I won’t let them know that until we get there, otherwise they might try to run away.”
Fakir couldn’t help but chuckle at that as well. “Yeah, no kidding. Good idea. Much better than locking them in the locker room together.” Tutu started laughing, having forgotten about that fiasco.
“Goodness, you’re right. What were we thinking?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Fakir replied, his lips turned up in a small smirk.
Tutu sighed, still smiling. “By the way,” she started, turning towards him, “Can we use your car for this? It’s a little far to walk.”
Fakir nodded. “Of course, just be gentle with her.” He handed her his keys, and she pocketed them just as they started to hear their disciples walking through the lobby towards the exit.
It was obvious when Ahiru and Femio were both done getting dressed, as whatever argument they left off on on the ice had been picked up again and they were still fighting with each other as they made their way towards their coaches.
They managed to silence themselves as they stepped outside, but the air was thick with tension, not to mention the midsummer heat that clung to their skin uncomfortably. “Hey Tu, where are we going anyway?” Ahiru asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder, semi-purposely hitting Femio with it as she did so. Ahiru had changed back into what she had worn when they first arrived in the ice rink: a pair of denim shorts, and a yellow t-shirt tucked into her pants, which had a small duck embroidered on the front pocket. Her orange and white striped socks were folded down, pulled up inches above her orange tennis shoes.
In contrast to Ahiru’s casual outfit, Femio was dressed to the nines. With a plum colored silk button up shirt rolled up at the sleeves with the top button fashionably left undone, and a white scarf looped loosely around his neck, the sides both hanging down his chest and gently moving with the breeze. He also had on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, cuffed to show whatever name branded socks and shoes he was wearing with the outfit. Upon stepping out, he pulled out a pair of designer sunglasses to complete the outfit and keep the sun off his sensitive lavender-colored eyes.
“You’ll see when we get there,” her sister said mysteriously, swinging the ring of keys given to her around her finger as she led them to Fakir’s car.
With Tutu in the front, and Fakir soon occupying the passenger seat, Ahiru and Femio were forced to sit in the backseat together, both teenagers childishly sitting as far away from the middle as possible.
Tutu turned on the radio, switching it to some station that was playing the top 40s, mostly just to fill the silence. It seemed that after all of the shouting Femio and Ahiru had finally exhausted their insults and digs and decided to just go silent instead. Therefore, the drive was extremely awkward for all participants.
The slowing and eventual parking and turning off of the aforementioned car was like a breath of fresh air for the four of them. Each stepped out of the car and stretched, feeling as though they were in that car for hours. As Fakir stretched his arms above his head, Ahiru got a tantalizing peek of his tanned midriff, and quickly turned her head away in embarrassment. When her eyes refocused, they widened in surprise, noting the sign in front of the wooded area they had pulled up to.
“Rock climbing, obstacle course, and zip-lining… Tu, what are we doing here?” The young redhead asked, somewhat fearfully.
Tutu smiled joyously, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad you asked, dearest sister of mine! You see, this is a wonderful place that will help us keep the peace within our little group. Before we walk up, I’m sure you’ve already guessed what our pairs will be.”
Fakir couldn’t help but chuckle, quickly covering it up with a cough behind his fist when he was met with questioning stares.
Ahiru quickly turned her pleading blue eyes upon her sister. Her entire face said, “please don’t make me do this,” while her mouth opened to reiterate, “please don’t make me do this.”
Tutu chuckled and swung her arm around her young sister, smiling. “It’ll be fun! Don’t worry so much! Plus, it’s summer break! Time to get out of the office and have some fun!” Tutu chuckled, and walked on ahead towards the directory, flanked by Fakir. Leaving Ahiru and Femio to catch up with their adult comrades.
By the time they caught up, Tutu was already in their office of sorts, speaking to the person behind the desk. Who, just as Femio and Ahiru walked over, pulled out the harnesses they’d be wearing. “So, as I was saying, what we have is one large obstacle course featuring rock climbing, agilities course over a mud pit, and a very long and enjoyable zipline at the end! Along with that, per the package you purchased, we will be doing a variety of trust building exercises that will work between your pairs and together as a group.” |
8579fc38521f4fda9e739bb414493939 | ['adf13775fc4a4ab384418574d6687210'] | “I- my leg is falling asleep,” he admitted, his tone hesitant.
“Oh, right,” John felt a bit guilty as he climbed off of Sherlock. His chest cooled at the change and he crossed his arms over it. Sherlock hoisted himself up and stood placid, giving John another one of those odd looks. John swallowed under that smart gaze. _What have I done? What was I thinking?_
The kettle whistled and the tension dissipated. John furrowed his brow. The water should have boiled faster than that. Maybe he hadn’t been draping himself over Sherlock for as long as he thought he had.
He turned and strode into the kitchen, taking the kettle off the burner and pouring the hot water into the cup he’d already prepared. He had felt particularly lazy today and had made his tea with a bag instead of loose tea. He turned off the burner, noting that the kettle still had quite a bit of water left in it. He turned around to ask Sherlock is he wanted tea as well.
The room was empty.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Only one more chapter to go! It's 2:30 in the morning here so I don't want to say too much or I'll say something I'll regret.
5. The Couch (Again)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "What am I to you, John?"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Here it is, guys! The last chapter. This is where this story ends.
Over the last few days, John had noticed Sherlock lost in thought. He actively avoided John to the point where he’d go out for a walk almost every time John came home from the clinic. John knew exactly what Sherlock was avoiding. He didn’t bring it up, even in the short, terse conversations they shared once or twice a day.
It was a Saturday again, which allowed John to sleep in and take a leisurely shower. He’d only recently started relaxing under the water on days he wasn’t in a hurry. It was a military habit that he was hard pressed to break. He’d brought his weekend clothes in with him and dressed before leaving the bathroom. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, planning to make a sandwich. It was too late in the day to make any sort of breakfast.
Sherlock was sitting on the counter, feet dangling off the ground. His hands braced him on the edge of the counter and his head had tilted back. His eyes were closed in thought.
“What are you doing?” John asked, stopping to look at his flatmate. The only response he received was an exaggerated exhale. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stalked over to the refrigerator, pulling out a package of sandwich meat.
He realized Sherlock was in his way when he turned to reach for the bread. “Sherlock, could you move, please.” He was ignored. “Sherlock, you’re blocking the bread cabinet and I’m trying to make a sandwich. Bread is, believe it or not, necessary to make a sandwich.”
Sherlock’s only response to John’s snark was to look at him. He narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to figure out the complexity of John’s face.
“Sherlock, move.” John huffed. Sherlock continued to stare at him. John resisted the urge to look away in defeat, though he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.
Annoyed, John grabbed Sherlock by the hips and attempted to scoot him over. He only succeeded in off-balancing his flatmate, who grabbed his shoulder to keep from toppling over. Sherlock scowled at John, removing his hand and jumping off the counter with whatever shred of dignity he had left. He stalked over to the couch and flopped dramatically back over the arm of it. His toes just barely touched the floor and his shirt rode up once again.
_What’s up his arse today?_ John wondered. He stood, unmoving, in the kitchen for a moment, contemplating. He turned and followed Sherlock to the couch, his sandwich forgotten. He sat on the edge of the coffee table and looked at Sherlock, who from his current position, was staring up at the ceiling.
“Sherlock, what’s wrong?” He asked, phrasing it in such a way that it sounded more like a command than a question. Sherlock continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Nothing,” he said, tapping his fingers against his side in agitation. John’s eyes tracked the movement for a brief moment before he responded.
“Bullocks. Is this about what happened,” he paused, taking a breath, “the other day?”
Sherlock doesn’t make any kind of affirmation or denial. John assumed that he was correct.
_Fuck it._ “Sherlock, we need to talk about this,” he added, folding his hands together in his lap. Sherlock turned his head to look at John.
“What am I to you, John?”
“Sorry, what?”
“What am I to you?”
“No, I heard what you said, it’s just-,” John wrung his hands together and looked down at them. He took a deep breath. “You’re my best friend. You’re...the only person I don’t have to censor myself around, the only person I can count on to...not be a disappointment- no that’s stupid…,” He trailed off, shaking his head and looking down at his hands again. _At least I didn’t mention anything else._ John silently hoped Sherlock couldn’t read his thoughts at the moment.
He looked up at Sherlock, and was surprised to see him wearing a vulnerable expression. Sherlock hid it quickly when John made eye contact with him. He stared at John for a few moments.
John cleared his throat, “Your turn, then.”
“Hm?”
“What am I to you? It’s your turn.” Sherlock was slightly taken aback by the turn of conversation. He looked at John for a moment longer before replying.
“I don’t know.”
“What?” John leaned forward on the coffee table, toward the detective. “You don’t know?” | 486a4000dc1441af99ba84837780b223 | ['adf13775fc4a4ab384418574d6687210'] | "You know, at this rate, you're going to completely throw out your back, " John added, making his way over to Sherlock. He sat on the floor beside Sherlock's head, legs criss-crossing each other. Sherlock turned his head to look at him.
"Don't be an idiot, John, I'm still young yet. Worry about my back when I'm fifty," He forced out, breath coming in short gasps and his face flushed red again. John had to look away. he knew there was nothing inherently sexual about this situation but his brain had other ideas.
"You won't have a back by the time you're fifty," John muttered.
Sherlock sighed, adding a grumble to the end of it, “I’ll be dead before then, anyway. Killed by some serial killer or, " he paused, "something.” He lifted his knees, trying to get his feet under him to push himself back up off the chair. He lost contact with the seat of chair and slid forward head first. He threw his arms out to brace himself up on the floor.
“John?” He breathed, arms braced against the carpet and legs up in the air, his stomach still in contact with the top of the chair.
John sniggered at him. Sherlock glared at him, his arms starting to shake from the weight of his own body. His face and neck had reddened more from the pressure.
"Don’t patronize- _AH!_ "
“ _Oof!_ ” John had a lap-full of dark-haired energy before he even had time to react and fell on his back. Sherlock had slipped and fallen off the chair, landing square into John’s arms. “ _Sherlock!”_
“Sorry,” Sherlock apologized, shifting around on John to look down at him. John froze, realizing that Sherlock had him pinned beneath his tall frame. Sherlock's face was only a few inches above his own, held up only by the muscles in Sherlock’s neck. He stared into Sherlock’s eyes and his breath hitched a fraction. He shifted a bit. “I-, um,” Sherlock hesitated before pulling back and rolling off of John, “seem to have lost my balance.”
Sherlock looked away from John, getting up in a rush and hurrying towards his room. The color hadn't receded from his face yet. He was already in the kitchen before John recovered.
“Sherlock!” said detective froze mid-stride, keeping his back turned to John. “Stop climbing all over the bloody furniture. You'll break your neck.” Sherlock turned around to give him a slight smile.
“Oh, please, John, you know I’m indestructible,” he teased, turning back around and strolling the rest of the way to his room. John elicited a deep sigh.
_What have I gotten myself into?_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And here's chapter 3! Obviously things are heating up a bit. Poor John, he never knew what hit him. Slow down a bit, Sherlock. Jeez.
4. The Floor
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "You told me to stay off the furniture."
Mrs. Hudson gave John permission to use her kettle, making him promise to keep it away from Sherlock. She smiled at him as he left her flat, making John promise to return the kettle after his morning cuppa. Their own kettle had an orange stain on the inside from God-knows-what from one of Sherlock’s experiments. He'd used the kettle without John’s permission and then tried to hide it from him after the vile deed. As a last minute resort, John asked their landlady if he could borrow hers for the morning.
He bid her good morning before trudging back up the stairs to their own flat, kettle in hand. He filled it under the tap, setting it on the stove and turning the burner on. John had gotten used to the electric kettle he and Sherlock had, but going back to traditional wasn’t a difficult feat. The only problem was the annoying hissing sound he’d sometimes hear if a drop of water on the kettle happened to hit the hot stovetop. For instance, right now.
He left the hissing kettle in the kitchen, wandering into the living room to find his flatmate.
“Sherlock? Where did- ACK!” John tripped over and landed on something soft. It was Sherlock, laying face-down on the floor. “What the hell, Sherlock?” John hissed, too bruised to bother moving off of his flatmate. So what if he was crushing him? Let the bastard suffer. He dropped his head between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. Sherlock didn’t stiffen or protest.
“You told me to stay off the furniture,” Sherlock huffed into the carpet, out of breath after John’s fall on him. He didn’t try to shift out from underneath John. John felt the muscles shift under his head as Sherlock moved his arms to a more comfortable and less squashed position. Sherlock relaxed again.
_What am I doing?_ “That doesn’t mean plank on the rug and become a hazard,” John replied. He resisted the urge to nuzzle himself into Sherlock’s back. _Jesus, I’ve got it bad. No denying it, now. Not gay, my arse._ He let out a single chuckle at his thought, hoping Sherlock didn’t notice and start using his freaky mind-reading power.
“What?” Sherlock asked, miffed about missing some joke and not even bothering to hide his disapproval. The edge of John’s mouth quirked up.
“Nothing, just,” John closed his eyes, “thinking.”
“Really? Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Shut up, you tart,” John teased, both of them falling into comfortable silence. John felt himself shift a fraction every time Sherlock took a breath. He hummed in contentment, feeling Sherlock’s body heat spreading through the front of his shirt. He inhaled a scent that was Sherlock's own unique spice and a hint of soap from his morning shower. It was glorious. He shifted a bit to better accommodate his injured shoulder and felt Sherlock's sharp inhale.
“John-,” Sherlock started, a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks. _No, not a blush, just red from me crushing him_ , John told himself.
“Yes?” |
b198eddcd6254013ad910cf3898e45e3 | ['ae0402d480cd4f10bb4e9f632e547a91'] | He slowly lowered himself to kiss my navel as he worked his way up to my nipples. I could feel his hand once again slide up my thigh, resting an inch shy of my bikini line. Looking up at me, he continued until he slipped two fingers inside of me, while sliding his thumb onto my clit. I let out a seemingly disembodied moan. Dean closed his eyes savoring the moment while his fingers glided in and out of me. My core clenched and I could feel myself release, squeezing his fingers as he continued to work his magic. Once I was finished and began catching my bearings, he slowly pulled out his fingers offering them to me. I took each slippery finger into my mouth one by one, enjoying taste of myself for the first time. The salty sweetness was not what I had expected, but it turned me on even more.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dean stood up to pull off his boxers and I stared as he slowly unveiled the full size of his dick. I got up on all fours facing him, licking my lips as I stared hungrily at the masterpiece. He reached out to place his hand on my shoulder, while grabbing himself with the other hand.
“Oh, no honey. Not yet.” He slid his hand up then down the length of his shaft and the veins bulged. “I want to be each other’s first”. He slowly sat next to me on the bed and reached for my hand to pull me on top of him. I spun around to sit on his lap with my back facing him, but he quickly pulled me around so we were chest to chest. “No baby, I want to see your beautiful face” he said as he smiled sweetly, looking into my eyes.
I grabbed his bare shoulders and lowered myself onto his shaft. Dean’s eyes rolled back and he let out a small groan as I slide myself all the way to his balls. I could feel him fill me to the point that I didn’t think he could go any deeper. I began riding him, his eyes never leaving mine. He grabbed the back of my head to pull my face near his then buried his face in my neck, his lips devouring my collarbone. I felt another build up and just as I was about to come, he lifted me off his lap and pulled my body closer.
“You ok?” he panted. I nodded my head and he slowly pulled me back down on top of him, this time, the tip of his head slowly entering my ass. He grabbed both sides of my ass, stretching me to fit his thickness. I relaxed as I felt him push deeper and deeper until his head was all the way in. I was thankful for how wet I was, or else it may have been less pleasurable. My skin seared slightly as he continued to lower me on top of him until he was fully in me. I screamed and he stopped with a worried look.
“No, don’t stop!” I screamed. Flickers of pain and unimaginable sensations filled my body repeatedly as he thrust in and out of my ass. I could feel my come running like a river out of me and onto his pelvis as I screamed “Dean, yes, oh my GOD!”. He leaned back to lay himself fully on the bed to let me take control of his body as I lost control of mine. He gritted his teeth as I began to writhe on him. I reached down to feel how wet I was and without realizing it, my own fingers were buried deep inside me, feeling the fullness of Dean on the other side. He began thrusting back as he was ready to explode, then sat up swiftly, matching his thrusting to my strokes.
“[YN]!!!!!!” He yelled as I could feel him let go. He pushed down one last thrust as he wrapped his arms tighter around me until I thought I would pass out. We both sat a moment breathing heavily. Finding ourselves and realizing what had just happened, we smiled at each other, out of breath and dripping with sweat. He loosened his grip on me as he leaned in to kiss me gently on the lips then the forehead, then pulled me closer again for another embrace. I stood up slowly and walked awkwardly to the bathroom to clean up. I brought him a wash cloth and we faced away from each to gather our composure and get dressed. I found my shorts on the foot of my bed and stepped into them. As I pulled them up, I turned to see Dean pulling up his boxers. He walked over to me slowly.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time”.
I stepped back a little. “oh, so you have been curious for a while, huh?” I joked.
He smiled, “Well, yeah, no. Not that. You, I’ve wanted you for as long as I could remember. You asked me earlier about being in love,” he stepped closer to me and reached out to hold my waist, “I don’t want to scare you but the way I feel when I’m with you, kicking monster hide together… There is a place inside me that only feels fulfilled… when I’m with you.” I stood there, not knowing what to say. Here was this gorgeous man confessing his love to me.
“Me too” I answered quietly. Dean smiled just as big as he did when I handed him the quarters earlier. He pulled me close in his arms and we stood there embracing for what I wanted to be an eternity.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It was late and we both needed to rest. Sam would be home soon. Was Dean going to say anything? Would Sam think something was going on? I wasn’t sure but I couldn’t remember when I felt happier. We both laid down on my bed, his arm stretched under my neck while he stared at the ceiling. Me on my side with my hand resting on his chest.
“So, I think both of us won that round,” I said smiling to myself and poking Dean gently on the chest.
I looked up and Dean smiled. “Yeah, I never thought I would get to break down your back door.” I punched him in the shoulder and he laughed harder than I had ever heard him laugh before. “Ow!” he chuckled as he shook out his arm. “So, where do we go from here?”
I looked back up at the ceiling, not knowing how to answer. I only knew that I wanted this with my entire being. After all, a hunter’s life is mainly not knowing what’s next. | 2731abd5f97a40c0b8ccc33dfffe2f4f | ['ae0402d480cd4f10bb4e9f632e547a91'] | "C'mon, I'll take you to the office." I put my hand on the back of her shoulder and tried not to touch the blood. I left Dean to talk to the real police. Lying to civilians was easy. I still had a hard time lying to the authorities. Dean always teased me about this and I knew that one of these days, I wouldn't be able to weasel my way away from them.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ As we stepped into the office, I looked back to Dean and saw him waving to the squad cars that were rushing to the parking lot. After a minute of waiting in the office, the manager came out from the back with a sandwich. He was just about to take a bite, as he looked at the woman and saw the blood.
"Awe man!" he stated has he looked out the window of the office. "You take care of her. I'll be back." He came out from behind the desk and sauntered outside and up the astro-turf covered steps. I looked back at the woman and she appeared to be in a trance.
"Ma'am, you said, the person in the room looked like you?" She looked up but not at me. Staring at the wall she shook her head.
"I.... I.... don't know. What?" She stammered and caught herself trying to grasp what she was saying. "It was me... but it wasn't ME."
"It's ok." I reassured. "I've seen some crazy shit. My partner will talk to the police. After all, you were getting ice when all of this went down, right?"
"Yes". The woman still looked puzzled. I snuck into the back room of the office and found a linen closet and grabbed some towels and wash cloths.
"There's a bathroom back there. You should go get cleaned up. Here." I took off my pink flannel button up and handed it to her. I felt the goosebumps rise as a breeze crept down the back of my t-shirt. The squeal of the door startled me as Dean stepped in.
"Miss, the police would like a word with you. I let them know my partner and I had seen you coming back from the ice machine when we got to our door." Dean glanced at me with a very concerned grimace.
"O... O.K." She stood slowly holding my shirt and the towels. Dean put his arm out for her to lead the way back to the room.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I waited in the office for about 10 minutes before Dean came back. I heard the sirens start up again then fade before Dean and the manager entered the office.
"So much for a nap!" Dean looked at me with a brooding stare and his lips pushed together almost into a duck face. The manager shook his head and walked into the back room. Dean and I made our way back to the steps. "That is one weird dude. I'm keeping my eye on him."
"You think it's him?" I asked quietly.
"I don't know but he tried to go in the room and kept asking about the pile of crap by the bathroom."
We made it back to our room and Dean gave me the low down. The bloody lady, also known as Maria Smart, was from two towns over having an afternoon delight with her boyfriend, also known as the corpse. Since Dean offered an alibi, the police allowed Mrs. Smart to return home, but asked that she remain around town. They also collected the Shapeshifter's shed skin for analyzing.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dean and I both sat staring intently at our laptops researching what we could about the previous victims. I sat with a beer in my left hand while scrolling with my right.
"Well, looks like PTA mom wasn't a saint either." I began to read out load as Dean looked up. "It says here that she was also using this place as her personal pleasure palace."
Dean looked amused, "What was she shtooping the principal?"
"No,” I looked up waiting for Dean's expression, "another PTA mom." Dean choked on his beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Well, can't say that I blame her. PTA moms are hot!". He took another drink as I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I see a pattern here. The other guy that was arrested murdered his co-worker. Guess where they both worked. The Trout Motel. The two were housekeepers and were fired for stealing towels and supplies 2 days before the co-worker was killed. I say we pay a visit to our creepy friend downstairs.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I didn't want to be anywhere near the manager but if he was the Shapeshifter, I wanted to take him out before anyone else got hurt. We walked into the office and waited a moment, but no one came. Dean saw a bell and repeatedly popped the top with his pointer finger until the manager came out. He looked like he had been sleeping and his curly hair stuck straight up on the left side of his head as he rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah! Welcome to the Trout." He yawned and opened his eyes fully.
Dean leaned in over the counter. "So, this place has it in for rule breakers, huh?" Dean smirked a little as the manager became nervous.
"What? I don't know what you're talking about." The manager became shaky before Dean reached over the counter and grabbed him by his shirt.
"Don't screw with me,” Dean held up his FBI badge. "PTA mom, the dynamic duo, and now the couple in the room next to ours. You tell me, something fishy isn't going on here." The manager chuckled. "What?" Dean asked, puzzled."
"Something fishy at the Trout." The manager didn't laugh for long once Dean tightened his grip on the manager's collar.
"3 people have died and you are making jokes? Where were you after we left this afternoon?" |
5cf841e68a504b44b7e4d44c144962f1 | ['ae0ea1da3c20426db1431d67af5ac912'] | _Thor bristled at the insult. “I am no savage! I am the future king of Asgard.”_
_“A poor excuse for a future King I imagine.”, the voice mused. “ Tell me. What motivation could you possibly have had for breaking into this palace alone? Either you are a bloodthirsty oaf come to start a second great war or a fool.”_
_“I was dared to come here by my friends.”, Thor admitted somewhat sheepishly. He had no idea why he was even entertaining the disembodied voice; especially being so forthcoming with his intentions. He must be under some spell. His grip tightened around his hammer and he itched to start swinging; hoping that his hammer would manage to meet and end the invisible target._
_The voice was silent for a moment before bursting out with laughter. It only served to increase Thor’s ire as he was not only being made fun of, but because the voice sounded like the most beautiful of melodies. A mixture between the ringing of bells and the twinkling of stars._
_“A fool then. I can’t say that I’m surprised.”, the voice replied with amusement._
_“I grow tired of this game Jotunn. If you will not reveal yourself, then at least grant me your name."_
_The voice sighed. "Fine, fine. Ruin all the fun.”_
_Thor waited a moment and then found himself staring into piercing green eyes as a figure appeared in front of him, seemingly out of thin air. Thor's eyes narrowed, raking over the lithe frame, covered in golden chains and a sheer green robe. A simple circlet made of gold and emeralds to match the deep color of his eyes rested atop a long braid of midnight black hair that extended down his back. His skin was a paler blue than Thor had thought possible for a Jotunn. Almost the color of the morning Asgardian sky._
_“I am Loki. Third heir to the throne of Jontunheim."_
**Author's Note:**
> To be continued... I would love to hear what you think so far.
>
> Btw, 'Aithne' is my version of made-up Jotunn language. It means "little darling" or whatever pet name you want to put in it's place | 7f041dbe6ab24103b9c70d1bcb7cbfbb | ['ae0ea1da3c20426db1431d67af5ac912'] | “Yeah, right.”, he heard Cora snort before he felt her body bounce down onto his bed. He glared at her, but she was completely unbothered by his bad mood. “Is it true? Did you present today?”, Cora pestered with wide, eager eyes.
Derek sat straight up. “How do you even know about that? You’re in the seventh grade.”
“Everyone is talking about it. Anna’s sister told us all about it when she drove us home from school today. She said your mate’s name is Stills or something like that."
“It’s Stiles.”, Derek corrected before letting his head drop back against his head board.
This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. He wouldn’t put it past his parents to already know everything by the time they got home. Matings like his were rare and far enough in between that the whole town would probably be talking about it for months. It wasn’t often that an Omega went un-presented until he was almost legal as Alphas were almost always older than their mates.
Cora frowned at him. “Why aren’t you more excited? You _matched_ today Der. This is like a dream. I’m so jealous.”
Derek closed his eyes. She wasn’t wrong. This is what everyone dreamed about. What songs and romance novels were written about. The bond between an Alpha and his Omega. But he couldn’t find the joy in it. _Nothing_ felt like it was supposed to.
Everything he thought he knew about himself had gone right out the window. Every dream he’d made for his future had vanished. He was supposed to be going to college in the Fall and now....nothing.
He knew what some of his friends and a lot of other close minded people thought about Omegas. Even though things were different in recent years and he’d grown up in an Alpha/Omega house, he’d heard the whispers. The things some Alphas said about his dad when he wasn’t paying attention. It always made him angry, but his dad was strong. He never let it bother him and he was proud to be mated to their mother and have carried them.
Derek should have known this could happen. The likelihood of a male Omega birthing another one was high.
His breath caught in his throat and he shivered; tears falling of their own accord; hot and heavy on his skin. He felt Cora’s skinny arms wrap around him and hold him tight. She was a good sister. Annoying on most days, but there when he needed.
* * *
Every house they passed brought Derek closer to his doom. He knew they had to do this, but for some reason he wished he didn't have to be in attendance. His parents were trying to keep things light, turning on his favorite radio station and trying to make small talk. He knew he was being a brat, but he didn't respond to any of it. Just grumbled out one word answers.
His mom pulled into the driveway of a small, two story house and Derek could tell just from the smell that they were at his mate's house. He balked at the purr threatening to rumble from his throat. Derek reluctantly climbed out of the car following his parents. His dad kept a soothing hand on his shoulder and his mom strode confidently up to the door like the alpha she was.
Derek and the rest of their family had always admired her strength. He was more than proud to have her as a mom. He knew she would look out for his best interests as much as she could and not let this mating ruin his life. Even though legally, she was not his Alpha anymore.
A few minutes after ringing the bell, a tired looking man answered the door in a cop uniform. He looked surprised to see them standing there. Derek vaguely recalled that Cora had told him that his mate was the sheriff’s son. Not that he had really been listening. He was too busy sulking. This week had officially topped the list as the worst of his young life. He’d been dumped by the love of his life, found out he was an Omega and not a Beta like he’d believed since he reached puberty, and now he was mated to a preschooler.
"What can I do for you folks?", the Sheriff asked.
"Good evening Sheriff. I'm Alpha Talia Hale with my husband Darren. And this is our son Derek.” She pushed Derek slightly forward with a hand on his shoulder. “Our boys go to school together."
The man sighed and ran a hand over his face as if he was preparing himself to hear the worst. "This is about Stiles isn't it? What did he do now?"
"Nothing bad.", she assured. "It's just well. Our son and your son appear to be....a pair. Derek presented for him today."
The sheriff looked shell shocked. He blinked owlishly before his eyes zoomed in on Derek in disbelief and then back to the older Hales. "Your son is an omega?"
"Yes."
“And he presented for Stiles? _My Stiles_?” At that, Derek had to roll his eyes. Like there were ten other Stiles Stilinski’s running around Beacon Hills.
“Yes.
"Well I'll be damned.”, the Sheriff grumbled to himself before shaking his head and coming to his senses and looking guilty. “My apologies, I'm being rude. Come on in. I'm John by the way. John Stilinski.” He stepped aside and reached out to shake both of the older Hales’ hands as they followed him inside.
Derek took in the scenery in front of him. The house was nice and cozy, if not a little small and lacking any semblance of interior design. Photographs of a very young Stiles and a woman with a matching dimpled smile sat over the mantle. Derek couldn’t put his finger on it, but it made him sad for some reason. |
1cce5366c2764607bedc94f9be208a33 | ['ae1649731c7e4fdea3d191e491be42d5'] |
The Distance Between Us (is like a foot lolol)
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this instead of updating my other fic oops
>
> I'm aware neither of them are actually this tall ok I'm a slut for height differences and I wanted to write some klance don't come at me
>
> (OKAY I FIXED A FEW THINGS SORRY THE ENDING WAS REPEATED IM DUMB)
Keith was not short. 5’3 was a perfectly normal height for a 19-year-old man-boy.
Okay, so maybe he was a _little_ short, but he would never say that out loud. As far as he was concerned, you weren't short unless you were Pidge and below. Keith was taller than Pidge, so he was far from short. Maybe even tall.
Someone who was definitely not short was Lance. This bitch was 6’4 and loved to rub it in Keith's face. He would constantly be reaching for things two shelves higher than Keith could ever possibly imagine, and it was really starting to piss Keith off.
Scratch that, it _was_ pissing Keith off. In fact, it was pissing Keith off to the point where even looking at the top shelves pissed him off.
The annoyance had been building up over the past months, all starting when he got a job at the new Starbucks. Lance had immediately noticed Keith's disadvantage and has been picking on him since.
This particular day was no different. Keith was trying to reach up on top of the shelf to grab his bag, which contained a pack of hair ties that Keith really fucking needed. It was the middle of June, and his hair was sticking to his neck. Not fun. He was close to giving up before Lance swooped in, snatching the bag up and handing it to Keith.
“Here you go. Maybe you should try growing a few inches,” Lance said, and Keith swore the only face Lance knew how to form was a smirk. “Or… a few feet, perhaps.”
Keith huffed. “I would if I could. Why the fuck was my bag on the top shelf, anyway?”
Lance watched Keith fish inside the bag, pulling out what he needed. “You're cute, you know that?” He said, completely ignoring Keith's question.
“As if you don't tell me every single time you see me.” Keith sat his bag on a shelf that was actually suitable for his height and pulled his hair into a small bun on the back of his head. He turned, facing Lance. “Stop putting my shit on the top shelf.”
Lance snorted. “Sorry, mullet. No can do.”
“You're going to stop putting my stuff in places I can't reach, or you're going to have to get me a stool,” Keith said, finger jabbing Lances chest. He walked out, abandoning a smirking Lance, as he went back to taking orders.
That had been six days ago, and Keith hadn’t thought about the moment since.
Lance, on the other hand, had definitely been thinking about it. Clearly, he took the whole “stop fucking with my shit or get me a stool” comment very seriously.
Now, Keith was staring at a bright blue stool covered with heart stickers. In addition to this stool was a sticky note reading _‘ur bag is on the top shelf, cutie.’_
Keith rolled his eyes and shouted, “Lance, what the fuck is this?”
Lance came sauntering in, just as obnoxious as always. “I made you a stool. Do ya like it?”
“It’s fine,” Keith said. He couldn't lie, the stool itself was decent, but the heart stickers are what got Keith. “I, uh, I like the stickers. They're… cute.”
Lance smiled as Keith used the stool to grab his bag off of the top shelf. “Almost as cute as you.”
Keith allowed himself to laugh at this, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Wow, Lance. That was absolutely terrible.”
“You don't like my pickup lines?” Lance asked, mocking offense, watching Keith pull out some chapstick.
“No, I love them,” Keith said, dropping the smile as soon as he realized what he had said. “Or-uh, no. They're stupid and I hate them, goodbye.”
Lance laughed as he watched Keith scurry out of the back, walking over to his place at the counter. “Oh my god. Have my good looks and charm finally won over the great Queef Cocaine?”
“Fuck you, Lance. I do not like you. That's ridiculous.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Go do something, stop watching me.”
Lance looked around the cafe.” There are currently no-” Lance was cut off by the ding of the bell. “There is currently one customer.”
Keith stuck his tongue out at him, then turned around to the customer, plastering on the fakest smile Lance had ever seen. “Hello, welcome to Starbucks, what can I get started for you today?” Then the smile was dropped, replaced by a face that just screams “Please stab me 4,392,874 times.”
“Um, I'll take the Cinnamon Chai Latte,” He said, flipping his so-blonde-it's-basically-white hair out of his dark blue eyes. He either didn't notice Keith's mood change or didn't care, continuing his order in his snobby voice, “as well as a blueberry muffin.”
“Is that all?” Keith grumbled.
“Keith, dear, please do speak up. I can hardly hear you.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”
“Yes, that will be it.”
Lance figured he may as well help Keith out, he _did_ tell him to get busy, after all.
“Oh, Keith, I'll handle it. Why don't you talk to your friend?” He said, taking the cup out of Keith's hands.
Keith stared at Lance, dumbfounded, for a few seconds. “I am not friends with Lotor. I want to cut his dick off, not hang out with him.”
Lance turned around, seeing if the man, Lotor, had heard him. He hadn't. He was on his phone, waiting for his muffin like any normal citizen. “Will you tell me why?”
“Yeah, after he leaves.” Keith huffed, snatching the cup back from Lance. | 0080a0abfda64fcdb327a77f7d777ae8 | ['ae1649731c7e4fdea3d191e491be42d5'] | I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.
☆☆☆☆☆
I spotted Hunk easily and made my way to the table. I noticed he didn't wait for me to order, so I headed up and got what I wanted.
I plopped down at our table, dragging Hunks attention away from his food and up to me. He smiled. “Uh, sorry I didn't wait.”
“It’s fine, what's brackin’?” I said, my laugh all too fake.
Hunk either didn't notice or didn't care. “Nothing, I hung out with Pidge last night. She misses you.”
Ah, Pidge. When the breakup happened I kind of cut her off. I didn't mean to, of course. I blocked everyone out, and only a few people wormed their way back in. Hunk was one of those people, as well as Allura.
I sighed. “Is she still mad?”
“No, she just wishes everything could go back to the way it was,” Hunk said, unwrapping his third taco. “I can't say I don't feel the same. I know you're struggling to get over him, but I miss the three of us hanging out, Lance. You should talk to her. She's not gonna hurt you, she's like four feet tall.”
I let out a laugh, this time one that was real. “Yeah, I should. I’ll call her when I get home.”
And we ate.
☆☆☆☆☆
When I got home I plopped on the couch, not bothering to take my jacket off. I pulled my phone out, I needed to text Pidge.
**Me**
_hey fam_
It took a few minutes to get a reply, and I wondered if it was acceptable for me to go to sleep at four in the afternoon. When her reply came through, though, my heart began racing five times its average speed.
**Gremlin**
_What the fuck do you want_
Pidge was never one for playing nice. If she was mad, you knew she was mad. She didn't even bother to hide it. Her temper would have bothered me if I weren't in such a good mood. Eating with Hunk never failed to brighten my day.
**Me**
i _think we both know_ wut i _want_
**Gremlin**
_ok_ do _you wanna meet up or just continue_ over txt
**Me**
_can u come over_
**Gremlin**
_yeah_ i'll _be over in a few_
Lance sighed, Pidge would have preferred texting. He would much rather text her, and he would have, too, but he really needed to see her in person. It would be easier, and there wouldn't be any misunderstandings. He was a grown man, he could deal with his problems up front.
By the time he got his nerves settled, Pidge was knocking on the door. He stood from the couch with wobbly legs and made his way to the door. He pulled the door open, and…
“Pidge, why are you holding a bowl of guacamole?”
“Why have you been ignoring me for the past month?”
“Okay, come in. The chips --”
“Are in the cupboard closest to the fridge. Yeah, I know. You act as if I haven't practically lived here for the past 6 years.” Yep, that was Pidge.
She grabbed the chips, and then she was back on the couch. Chip in mouth, eyebrows raised, waiting for my excuse. I sighed and plopped on the couch.
“I don't know, okay? I just kinda pushed everyone out,” I said as she crunched another chip.
“More like fucking shoved, but yeah. I get that, but why have you and Hunk been hanging out, then? Was I not good enough to be let back in?” Her words were clear, even being spoken through a mouthful of crushed corn chips and guac.
“I dunno, I guess he just kinda shoved himself back in. You just stayed away, which I was grateful for at the time, but I started missing you.” I admitted.
“Sick, I missed you too. ‘m glad the old you is back. Mopey you is not the best you,” she said, smiling.
I sighed. “I'm not fully back, but I'm working on it.”
She nodded. “I understand, it’s gonna take some time to get over him. Anyways, were you planning on having me over for a sleepover? I mean, if you weren't you'll just have to get over it. I'm not going home, we’re out of chips.”
I laughed. “I wasn't, but you can. You wanna watch something? We could-holy fuck Pidge we could watch season eight of Shameless oh my god.”
“Fuck yeah, put that shit on yesterday.”
And we spent the next five and a half hours doing just that.
**Author's Note:**
> i didnt know how to end this lmao shit
>
> also fucking fuck the formatting got fucked up so sorry about that |
3ac99e052bad4b2e9d562d63702bb56f | ['ae28424119e04196a9c8b2f0f392c19f'] | “Okay,” Hanamaki announces, loudly enough to be heard over the residual laughter and din of the bar. “Since apparently the two of you are so romantically clichéd, then you won’t mind a little bachelor party cliché either.”
Everyone sobers at this idea, riddling out the meaning, but Oikawa seems to sober the fastest. He turns to Hanamaki with a sharp glare. “Takahiro, _no_ ,” he scolds, eyes very knowing like he’s looked straight into the debauchery of Hanamaki’s mind.
“Tooru, _yes_ ,” he croons mockingly, ducking a bit behind Iwaizumi when it looks like Oikawa might just attack.
Iwaizumi, for what it’s worth, looks a bit suspicious as well, but doesn’t immediately grab Hanamaki in a headlock, so he takes that as a good sign.
He and Matsukawa had been planning this for a couple of weeks now, getting everyone else on board and managing to keep it a secret from their friends, even though neither seemed quite as surprised as they aught to have been. Were they _that_ predictable?
“Strippers,” Hanamaki says with a wide grin in lieu of any other explanation.
“Strip clubs,” Matsukawa elaborates, with a smile that seems to mirror Hanamaki’s own.
If they weren’t in the middle of their very important bachelor party secret scheme extravaganza Hanamaki might’ve jumped the table just to smear kisses all over Matsukawa’s face.
“No,” Iwaizumi and Oikawa bark in unison, but they go willingly with their friend’s just the same.
* * *
It’s much later in the night when Hanamaki starts to realize his mistake in dragging Oikawa halfway across the city for one, clichéd lap dance.
They’ve enjoyed another round of drinks, the one clichéd lap dance, another few clichéd lap dances just for the hell of it, and now Hanamaki is watching a very sly, very determined looking Oikawa talking to a dancer across the room. The guy’s got dark curls and a cut body and Hanamaki is really starting to regret his life choices right about now.
Yahaba is absolutely zero fucking help, enjoying himself way too much and has probably been sexting Kyoutani all night for all Hanamaki knows. (And he really doesn’t want to know). Kunimi is too busy ignoring (or hating) everyone in his general vicinity to be of any assistance either. Watari’s his only hope, the only remotely sober one there, but it turns out that he’s even more an enabler than Yahaba.
Hanamaki comes to this unfortunate conclusion when he witnesses the younger man plying Oikawa with the cash that goes directly into the metallic g-string of that very-nearly naked stripper now sauntering his way.
He’s never had a lap dance before, but he imagines this is a pretty standard one.
If the guy had piercings and glasses and slightly broader shoulders he’d be a pretty spitting image of Matsukawa. Hanamaki’s not sure if that’s helping or hurting to imagine in his head, but it certainly makes his cheeks flush, especially when the guy rolls his hips and abs.
It’s the flash of a camera out of the corner of his eye that breaks Hanamaki from his treacherous imagination. He turns in time to watch Oikawa typing something but before he can say a word Oikawa grins wickedly over the top of his phone. Hanamaki’s not _that_ stupid; he knows exactly what’s been sent and whom it’s been sent to. He supposes, in some sort of twisted sense, this is Oikawa’s way of gaining back the upper hand.
Shit, he really should have seen that coming.
When the song ends and the dancer leaves his disheveled lap with a wink Hanamaki feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket.
He’s not entirely sure why, but when he reads the text he actually shivers.
_Meet me at your place in thirty minutes. Don’t be late._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Also, thanks to fxvixen for the inspiration for some of Hanamaki's dialogue when they sent me LINK
>
9. hideaway
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> _“Better than a lap dance?”_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, there's a lot going on in this chapter. Also I updated the tags a bit. (I can't believe there's only one more chapter o_o). Thank you again for all your love and support!
_"I’m not going to be able to come home over the holiday this year.”_
_"What?” Hanamaki frowned through the computer screen. They’d spent the last four New Year’s together, he’d never really given much thought to Matsukawa not being there with him and everyone else this year just because he was going to school in Spain. His frown deepened. “Issei—”_
_"I know, it fucking sucks,” Matsukawa interrupted hastily. “But my parents are insisting on visiting me here and they’ve planned an entire trip around it—actually I just found out about it this morning.”_
_He didn’t sound too pleased with the news and Hanamaki couldn’t exactly blame him. Matsukawa was lucky to have parents well-off enough to send him overseas for university, but he’d also grown up a latchkey kid in a stuffy household so very opposite Hanamaki’s own. In the end, it didn’t exactly surprise him to hear that Matsukawa’s parents had made such a decision without even consulting their son first._
_“Oh,” Hanamaki said in lieu of expressing an opinion he might regret. “Well, that’ll be nice, right?”_
_He watched Matsukawa’s eyes drop to something out of his webcam’s vision before responding, “Sure. It’ll be nice.”_
_"You’ll be home for the summer holidays, right?”_
_Matsukawa smiled softly, though his expression wasn’t exactly happy. “Actually, there’s an internship I’ve been looking at.”_
_“Oh,” Hanamaki said again, biting his tongue not to sound too disappointed. “That’s awesome. A journalism internship?”_
_“Photographic journalism, actually.” Matsukawa met his eyes again, this time having tamped down any disappointment that Hanamaki had seen forming a second ago._
_“That’s—that’s very cool,” Hanamaki said, hating how he’d fumbled over the words._ | c1674054824642b4b37d680bbbecccc6 | ['ae28424119e04196a9c8b2f0f392c19f'] | Hanamaki stops short, lips hanging open just a little as he realizes what he’s just said. He has absolutely no idea why he’d posed it as a question, wishing immediately that he could bite back those last few words, but instead all he can do is imagine the way they linger in the air between them all, sticky and uncertain.
Oikawa, observant as always, seems to notice Hanamaki’s discomfort and immediately dives into a story he’s just conveniently remembered about Ushijima and another one of their teammates during an exhibition match the Japan National Team had played recently against France.
It’s amusing and, now that he’s so far removed from playing volleyball himself, Hanamaki does like hearing all of Oikawa’s stories, plentiful as they are.
But still, something else lingers, sharp and irritating, especially when that pretty silver band flashes again before Hanamaki’s eyes when Oikawa reaches the climax of his anecdote.
_I’m in control, right?_
* * *
Matsukawa would like to attribute his meager enjoyment of adulthood thus far to a well-paying job, a place of his own with an actual bedroom and no communal showers, living a bullet-train away from his mother’s worrying, decent healthcare maybe.
But, at least for right now, nearly midnight with the first cool winds of October approaching through his living room window, he’d like to attribute it to the greasy cheeseburger and fries perched in their paper wrappers on his coffee table without a single soul to nag him.
It had been a tough week, he deserves this.
“ _It’s Friday night, Issei, I can’t believe you’re just sitting at home,”_ Hanamaki says on the other end of the phone. _“I thought Shinbashi had a decent bar scene.”_
Okay, so maybe _one_ soul.
Matsukawa scowls down at his food and then over to where his cellphone lies face-up on speaker. “What are _your_ plans tonight, Hiro?”
_“Veg out on the couch, obviously,”_ comes the reply Matsukawa could have guessed at.
He can’t help it, truly, the grin that worms its way onto his face. He plucks a fry between thumb and forefinger and it wilts a little in his grip. “Since when did we become old and boring?”
_“Speak for yourself.”_ Hanamaki makes his tone sound offended, though Matsukawa can imagine the man working his way through his twitter feed, pajama-clad, as they speak. _“I’m as young and spry and exciting as ever.”_
Matsukawa licks away some salt from his lower lip and hums in acknowledgment. “Says the guy watching Buzzfeed videos without subtitles at midnight on a Friday.”
_“Hey, how do you know that I’m—”_
“Tell me you’re not, Hiro.”
Matsukawa hears a grumble on the other end and stifles his laughter with another fry. _“Okay, fine, you got me,”_ Hanamaki bites out. _“I may be boring but I’m definitely not old. Reiji was old, not me.”_
The name pricks as it enters Matsukawa’s ears, scraping up a pile of mixed emotions in his stomach that he valiantly swallows back down.
“I thought he was only two years older than you,” Matsukawa says, going for that comfortable brand of deadpan teasing than anything more volatile.
_“You’re awfully contrary tonight, Issei.”_
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Hanamaki snorts a laugh and it’s a sound Matsukawa won’t ever quite get over. _“Idiot.”_
“How are you, by the way?”
The question is out of Matsukawa’s mouth before he can stop it, which is probably just as well because honestly he would really like to know the answer.
_“Me?”_ Hanamaki asks in that deep voice of his. _“I just watched a video of kittens meeting puppies for the first time, how do you think I am?”_
That’s definitely some cute imagery, Matsukawa will admit. Hanamaki had always been soft for things like tiny, wobbly animals. But of course, that’s not really the point, is it?
“I mean,” Matsukawa presses with just a little bit more force. “How have you been—since the breakup?”
He’s entering dangerous territory he knows, but Matsukawa can’t help but be a bit curious, concerned even. Hanamaki was the type of person to stew in emotions and build up walls unless someone came knocking, asking just the right questions and knowing the correct password for any sort of clearance.
Matsukawa used to know the best questions to ask, the right password, the right everything, but at this point he’s not so certain anymore.
“ _How did you get over your last breakup?_ ” Hanamaki asks, avoiding the question entirely and plucking the attention right off of him and throwing it straight back at Matsukawa. “ _What was his name again? Takemoto?_ ”
“Takeuchi,” Matsukawa corrects him studiously, bypassing Hanamaki’s ignorance for the teasing it is. None of this is really that surprising, the evading, the blasé attitude.
“ _Yeah, that’s the one,”_ Hanamaki answers and Matsukawa knows his friend’s flippancy on the subject is only due to Hanamaki attempting to steer the conversation away from anything too serious. Besides, Matsukawa’s been over Takeuchi for some time, maybe even a little when they’d still been together, so it doesn’t hurt, but still—
He swallows, swirls the words around on his tongue once before answering in his own flippant way, “You know, the usual. Sake and casual sex.”
If he’d been entering dangerous territory before, now he’s basically throwing himself on a landmine that has a fifty-fifty chance of being a dud. Matsukawa doesn’t know at all what he’s angling for anymore, but he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping up with Hanamaki’s banter. Maybe it’s some form of coping, some way of letting Hanamaki know that he’s here for him without spelling it out in a sappy way that would only make Hanamaki lock himself further away.
It’s not surprising, this attitude. But Hanamaki’s answer certainly isn’t what Matsukawa was expecting.
_“What are you doing right now?”_
* * * |
2029ccca2bc840dab988efd0fc44f355 | ['ae3db1cec9c84c2fba8ef42c5fd6f9a2'] | There is a brief moment of silence after that statement before Dumbledore gives the Gryffindor a nod. “Right you are, my boy.”
Harry returns the nod with one of his own before taking up his cuppa for a long sip of tea. Harry isn’t actually thirsty, but he desperately needs to stall for some time while trying to get the erratic beating of his heart under control. Yeah, he may have been next to useless during the majority of the conversation that had taken place between the Headmaster and Snape but Harry and been doing more than a bit of thinking while seated in the Headmaster’s office during that recent exchange.
Despite knowing that he’s right in what he’s about to say, Harry can’t help but feel a bit nervous. Because if he’s as right in his thinking as he feels he is then why hasn’t Dumbledore reached the same conclusion that Harry has when his mind had done nothing but dwell on thoughts of the Groundskeeper?
“The wizarding world needs to know about the Chamber of Secrets.”
“As you’ve said, my boy, it’s best to minimize concerns over Voldemort’s involvement at Hogwarts.”
“Headmaster, one of the reasons that Voldemort has amassed such fear is that most of the general population know next to nothing about the man outside of his views on muggle-borns, purebloods, and the fear he continues to spread. Even though Voldemort has made it clear time and again that he’s hellbent on killing me I didn’t even know his name until he almost killed Ginny! The wizarding world needs to know who exactly they’re dealing with. It’ll take away the mystery of the monster and make the monster _into_ a man. A man that can be stopped just as easily as any other man.”
“…Harry, there is much more to Voldemort than the result of a rebounded spell.”
“Be that as it may, people should know about Tom Riddle. It’s silly to expect anyone to defeat someone when they barely even understand what it is they’re facing. I’ve gotten lucky these last few years, but I can’t live my life on luck anymore. Nor do I want to keep living simply due to the sacrifices of others.”
“Very well, Harry. I shall take this to the Wizengamot.”
Harry gives a nod, letting out a short breath of relief before continuing. “There is one other thing, Headmaster.”
“What is it, my boy?”
“It’s about Hagrid.”
“Whatever is the matter? As I mentioned earlier, Hagrid is on a diplomatic trip to visit the giants. I am sure with Olympe at his side talks will go much smoother this time.”
“Oh, it’s not about that Headmaster. As we both know Hagrid got expelled from Hogwarts and his wand snapped due to Voldemort. Now that everyone knows Voldemort’s back and there’s undeniable proof about the Chamber of Secrets and the actual heir of Slytherin, whatever legal restrictions that have been placed on Hagrid should be lifted. He should be able to practice magic again instead of hiding what little he can do with his umbrella.”
“Harry, I don’t know if that’s wise…”
“Out of everyone in the wizarding world, Hagrid has probably suffered the longest under Voldemort. Before Voldemort had even come to power he’d already ruined Hagrid’s life. Not the mention how he must feel knowing that every time Snape’s called by Voldemort, Hagrid may never see his mate again.”
“Professor Snape, Harry.” Harry doesn’t even bat a lash at the correction as it’s not the first time, nor will it probably be the last. “The wizarding world holds a great prejudice against giants, even half-giants, Harry. Certainly, it’s gotten better over the years since Rubeus was a student at Hogwarts but the parents of a great many of your classmates who have turned a blind eye to a half-giant that never underwent his own inheritance may no longer feel the same once he gains access to his magic again.”
“I don’t care how prejudiced people feel! Actually, I do care. I hope they feel just awful once they realize that it was bigotry like theirs which resulted in an innocent person being punished for a crime he never committed!”
“There’s no need to yell, my boy. And bigoted though these people may be, it’s their continual support and donations that keep Hogwarts running throughout the schoolyear.”
“Well, if they can still support Hogwarts after knowing a student died while in your care by the hands of Voldemort, _the Dark Lord_ , then I think they’ll adjust just fine. Besides, knowing what they do about giants I’m sure most will come to realize what a blessing it is to have one that’s actually on their side and willing to protect their precious children.”
“That may be true Harry, but the board will not make this easy. Even if the Wizengamot does pardon Rubeus, Hogwarts may need to find a new Groundskeeper and I certainly would never wish to separate Rubeus and Severus. It is hard enough for those two as it is, and with Severus role as spy it’d be impossible for the man to follow Rubeus if he were forced to leave Hogwarts.”
“But Mr. Malfoy is on the board! He holds a lot of sway; I’m sure the board just follows along with whatever he says anyway.”
“I would not wish to give up the Malfoys, Harry. Despite everything, they are our allies now and any word of Lucius swaying the board for Rubeus’ benefit will undoubtedly lead back to Voldemort. A second spy in their mists is much too great an opportunity to give up, even for a friend unjustly convicted. We must think of the greater good, Harry.” | b6500e14df4b474abe714159540b9d10 | ['ae3db1cec9c84c2fba8ef42c5fd6f9a2'] | Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Suck at summaries so decided to change it, not sure if the current one is better lol. Anyway, enjoy :)
Ch. 2: Present
“You wanted to see me, Headmaster?” Severus asks politely. His slender fingers are clasped tightly behind his back though Severus is trying to appear as calm as possible. No longer is the dark-haired Slytherin a scrawny little schoolboy. He has long since shot up like a beanpole, though his growth spurt was a bit later than many of the other boys in his year, courtesy of a mixture of unpleasant factors that Severus would rather not think of, especially when standing in front of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.
It is a rare day indeed when Severus finds himself standing in this office. The last time had been after that disastrous night with Remus Lupin, resident Hogwarts lycanthrope; it is the first time, in fact, since his belated growth spurt. Staring into the all familiar sparkling blue eyes of the Headmaster, Severus can now see that he is exactly the same height as Dumbledore and nearly equal in size since the Headmaster’s muscle mass has withered with age and Severus has never fostered his own.
“No need to be so formal, Severus. Please, have a seat.”
Severus doesn’t respond to the first statement though he does take a seat, albeit a bit stiffly. He hates that his body still has a will of its own, refusing to obey his fervent orders of _relax!_ At least Severus has full control over his facial expressions and the ever present blank look is only betrayed by the stiffness of his shoulders. “You wanted to see me, Headmaster?” Severus repeats again, wanting this meeting over as soon as possible. “After all, I do have a train to catch.”
Dumbledore sighs softly, a look of disappointment that Severus is all too use to seeing briefly clouding the blue gaze before the Headmaster takes his seat behind his desk, hands full of wrinkles perched atop the dark wood. “Are you returning to Spinner’s End, Severus?”
Severus hands clench the armrests of the dark wooden chair, a perfect match to the large desk he is seated in front of. The onyx gaze is no longer as blank as Severus’ face but is now a dark and stormy charcoal as they narrow in rage at the Headmaster. “Do you actually _think_ that I would _ever_ return back to that _house_?” Severus wants to yell the words out but instead they leave his lips in a sharp, low hiss.
That look of disappointment returns to Dumbledore’s gaze and, as ludicrous as it seems, Severus begins to feel a slight prodding of his mind. _How dare he!_ Severus is up in a millisecond, spine rigid and hands tightly clenched at his sides as he stares down at the Headmaster. “Better to use legilimency in my sleep Headmaster. Surely you should know that much since you are the one who trained me.”
Dumbledore follows suit, rising to his feet, arms stretched out before him awkwardly, almost as though he wants to wrap them around Severus and hug him close. Severus brows furrow and that awkward action by the Headmaster is nearly more shocking than the fact that the man has tried to use legilimency on him. Another sigh is all it takes for the Headmaster to quickly return to himself, his arms no longer stretched out in such an odd manner but mirroring Severus now as he drops them down to his side.
“Severus, I would never intrude on your privacy…”
Severus snorts with indignation before a sharp, mirthless laugh leaves his thin lips. “Yes of course not. You would never dare to sink so low, not because you actually _care_ but because you don’t want the taint.”
“Severus, I am only worried about you. Are you really going to join him?”
“If you mean do I have summer plans with Lucius Malfoy, then yes.”
“Is he the one, Severus?” Dumbledore sounds genuinely curious, and for once the look of disappointment doesn’t seem to be focused at Severus but at something… _else_. Severus can’t put his finger on what exactly though he can well guess a thousand different things. It is…odd, and definitely _not_ in the character known of Albus Dumbledore, at least not when in concerns to one Severus Snape. This fact is enough to have Severus’ guard back up and spiteful words once more leaving his lips.
“Scared of another Grindelwald?” Severus asks acidly, a dark smirk curving his lips upward. “Like father like son, eh? Or should I say like _grand_ father like _grand_ son?” Severus’ once more lets out a sharp, mirthless laugh, even allowing his head to toss back before he reigns in the sound. “However,” he continues, voice icy cold now, “whether he be the one or not is none of your concern. I’m leaving.”
Severus turns his back to the Headmaster, stalking towards the exit as quickly as his long legs will carry him before Dumbledore’s next question stops him short. “Do you still spend time with Lily Evans? I have seen her looking after you, always watching you with those green eyes of hers. I hear she’s engaged with James Potter now. Imagine it, a child with Lily’s eyes and James’ messy head of hair. I’m sure the child would be a beauty, and a very handsome one at that.” |
eb106187846741cabdff6d377bb1f987 | ['ae4b445e8a694f70a527e305eb17c92c'] | Once Again, You Failed
It seems that her failures are fate and nothing she does will change it.
How many times has she gone through the same month, over and over again?
How many times had she watched her friends die?
How many times has she failed?
_Too many times to count_ , her mind whispers back as tears burn behind her eyes. She bites the inside of her cheek to repress her screams.
So when she finds herself standing once again in the remains of Mitakihara, staring into the dying eyes of her best friend, she can't even offer her any comfort. She finds herself simply closing her eyes and waiting for the timeline to reset. Madoka sobs, cries, writhes in pain as her soul tears itself apart from the inside, and all Homura can do is look at her with a pained expression and whisper a quiet apology before standing up and walking away. Leaving her to die alone.
_What a friend you are_ , the voice quips bitterly, and her heart clenches painfully in a way that it hadn't since she had watched her best friend and her other friends (but Mami, Kyoko, and Sayaka haven't been her friends in a long time - just obstacles and annoyances that she had no time for) die for the twentieth, thirtieth, and fortieth times until she had finally broken and screamed and screamed and screamed and shot herself in the head only for it to heal like nothing had happened.
She is broken and she is already dead. The sweet girl that was Homura Akemi is dead, gone, and she will never come back. Only a soulless husk remains.
Madoka finally lets out a desperate scream - her dying breath - and when Homura opens her eyes once again, she's sitting in that dreaded hospital bed.
She wants to scream, but instead she simply shakes her head and stands once again.
She failed.
**Author's Note:**
> jesus what is it with me and depressing fics tho | f1c1e9a944c64a1bb40c78d2d067bf24 | ['ae4b445e8a694f70a527e305eb17c92c'] | The Time Travelers Club
"y'know," Sans says, nonchalantly, "this timeline shit? kinda sucks."
707 snorts, uncrosses his arms, and leans forward heavily while shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Frisk, who had been silently leaning on Sans' shoulder up to that point, shrugs and hops to their feet, seemingly dismissing themself from the room. MC rises to her feet and scurries out shortly after, murmuring an excuse that Sans personally thought was rather pathetic. The door slid shut behind her. Only Sans, Homura, and 707 remained.
"So welcome to the Time Travelers Club, I guess," says 707, flashing a wide grin to the other two people in the room. Sans snorts and doesn't reply, while Homura rolls her eyes.
"Why did we even make this group again?"
"to discuss our eternal suffering." replies Sans, as if it was obvious.
"I mean," 707 ponders his words before conceding with a bitter laugh. "You're not wrong."
"Listen," Homura says, shortly, quick and to the point. "You can't say anything, Saeyoung. You haven't gone through half the shit that I have."
"Now hang on a moment," snaps 707, fists clenching by his side. "Don't call me - "
"And Sans, you say that you've gone through some shit, but you sure don't act like it."
"hey," growls Sans, the pinpricks of light having flickered out of his eyesockets as he glowers fiercely at her, "don't start."
"You haven't watched your friends die, over and over again - "
"uh... hello? newsflash - i had to watch everyone that i've ever loved die before too."
"But you were complacent, Sans," replies Homura, flippantly. "You did absolutely nothing to stop them. You could have stopped them after they killed your brother, or even before. But you didn't, did you?"
"now hang on one diddly darn moment - " Sans begins, holding up a single phalange to emphasize his point. "at least i didn't become a fucking demon and justify it by stating that it was out of love. what the fuck. that's not love. that's obsession, you freak. i'll admit, i made mistakes. but at least i acknowledge them. unlike you."
707 cuts in as Homura opens her mouth to fire back a retort, her face face flushed with anger.
"Have you died before?"
"No."
"Have you ever been killed by your own brother?"
Homura blanches while shaking her head and she falls abruptly silent. Sans grimaces while 707 looks to be on the verge of tears.
"Then shut the fuck up," 707 commands, the hostility clear in his voice as it cracks painfully.
"..."
"..."
"...can we just pretend like this meeting didn't happen? and, uh, start over?"
"Sounds good to me," replies 707. "So uh. I'm Luciel. Or 707. Don't call me Saeyoung. Ever again. Please."
"and i'm sans. sans the skeleton."
"My name is Akemi Homura. It's a pleasure to meet you both," Homura intones with a polite dipping of her head.
"right. so, uh, gotta go right about. now? frisk wants me to take them to see muffet and get some grub. can't really stomach those spiders though, always cause my skin to crawl."
"But you don't have a stomach? Or skin?" inquires Homura, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Nice puns," laughs 707, sending a quick wink to Sans. Sans winks back with a cheeky grin before he abruptly teleports, leaving his companions to stare at each other from across the room.
**Author's Note:**
> i just needed sans v homura & sans + 707 getting along because they're both depressed memelords oops.
>
> uhhh idk if im gonna make more than one chapter? up to yall ig. i could make this a series if yall wanted me to lol. |
83434f2bd5424d13acd4fa511a965bd0 | ['ae6616d4e98e4da9a62880e865b951a8'] | “Kuroko, That’s not “ _pushing_ ” it’s a “ _match up_ ” isn’t it?” and as Akashi said he started once again pounding into Kuroko with all his strength, first painfully slowly…and then intensifying hard. In each thrust Akashi made sure that he went in all the way in and that he hit Kuroko’s sweet spot, all while sliding his hands beneath Kuroko’s shirt and pinching his nipples.
Even from this distance I was able to notice Kuroko’s….I was able to notice the bump in his shorts… How could I not? Kuroko’s penis seemed to leak so much pre cum that his shorts were all drenched at that place… Heck, it even seemed to be dripping down his legs!
Akashi kept moving at that pace until Kuroko was about to come and then stopped.
“A-Akashi-kun…ngg, no! don’t- slow down!…haa…haa…mmhh” Said Kuroko as he gasped for air.
“Tch… Tetsuya, didn’t I tell you to _warm up_? How else are you going to learn _holding it_?” Akashi said with a sadistic smirk forming on his face.
“Ak-akashi-kun please! Harder! Do…me h-hard….er! Like- like _before_!!” Kuroko said as tears run down his cheeks, which, as soon as Akashi noticed, he licked away.
“Tetsuya…drop the suffix. You don’t need such meaningless formalities with me.” Akashi whispered in Kuroko’s ear.
“But… Akashi-k…kun!…I can’t……Ho-hold it in…. haa…mnnhaaya!!!” And as a lustful moan escaped Kuroko’s rosy lips he tensed up his body instinctively, knowing that his release was near… or so he hoped.
Akashi was not happy when his property wouldn’t obey to him. And so with a quick move, he pulled down Kuroko’s shorts and caught his cock inside his palm, thus stopping him from ejaculating.
“ _Akashi_. It’s _Akashi_ , Tetsuya. You have already shouted my name numerous times under me. Why can’t you remember such a simple order? You’re such a bad dog. You keep forgetting your training.” Said Akashi, gripping Kuroko’s penis tighter in his palm.
“Nnh…A-… Akashi! I’m…I’m begging you!! Please! Let m- “. However Kuroko’s sentence was cut off by Akashi’s folding of his cock. Akashi…He seemed to be rather satisfied with Kuroko’s current state. Even though Kuroko couldn’t see it, Akashi was indeed smiling. It was a genuine, startling smile…
“N-no! HAA! AA! MMM! Nn CAN’T ! Ak! Aka-shi!” However, no matter how much Kuroko would beg Akashi, he was not about to end the game like that. No. Even more. The game wouldn’t end until he said so or until he, himself was satisfied.
“Kuroko…for this violation, I’m afraid I’ll need to give you a technical foul” Akashi said in a playful, but nevertheless, cruel manner. Kuroko didn’t like that, for he knew that whenever Akashi would talk using that tone he-Kuroko- would suffer in his arms.
Before Kuroko could react, Akashi brought out of his pocket a kind of “stopper” and with a smooth move slid it inside of Kuroko’s cock.
“Mmmm.!! NOO!!! Haa!…NNNMmHYAAA!!!…AAA!!!”
“Calm down. SEE? It’s inside. And let me tell you this: since you were disobedient, when I allow you to come-no-, IF! I allow you to come; you’ll come through the catheter. Oh, and when you get home you’re not allowed to take it off, whether you want to go to the toilet or to jerk off or whether you have practice at school or a date with that fucker, it concerns me not. You Will Not Take It Off. Got that? If you do...well let’s just say there are wider and thicker catheters than this one...it would be bad if you we were to loosen up the wrong hole…wouldn’t it…Tetsuya?” And as he finished his sentence, he felt Kuroko’s shuddering beneath him- his legs couldn’t support his weight any longer.
Just before he hit the ground, Akashi grabbed Kuroko so that his toy would land above him. And his plan worked-better than he had hoped it would. The land was too much. Akashi’s dick once again hit Kuroko’s most sensitive spot, and Kuroko squirmed. He couldn’t take it anymore. His legs were trembling, his body jolting at the very sound of Akashi’s voice, his ass was a complete mess, his drool and saliva started escaping the inside of his mouth only to land on the ball, which Kuroko still held in his hands, and as if that wasn’t enough, Akashi started moving inside of him again.
He thrust inside Kuroko’s ass slowly, alluringly, in order to drive Kuroko to insanity, and yet in a stable pace so that Kuroko would be about to come at any moment. He lost it. Not only was he drooling but he had started mumbling words of no significant meaning.
And at some point a couple of minutes later his voice abandoned him as well-he could no longer moan…He was past that. This pleasure Akashi was presenting him with… this brutal pleasure that got his whole body erect…
And then the unthinkable happened. Kuroko’s shaking hips started moving- or at least they tried. And once again Kuroko started moaning or at least made sounds that did nothing but confirm the ecstasy he felt.
“…Tetsu?” Akashi said, while clearly surprised by the sudden turn of events. Tenderly embracing Kuroko from behind….
“… _Come_ …!” a whisper was heard. And to the whispering word Akashi’s eyes grew wider.
“Kuro-“
“Akashi-ku… A…AKASHI! Your…your sperm…! I …want it…. No…I NEED IT! I don’t care if you won’t allow me to come….I want you, need you… I-I LOVE YOU!! Akashi, please-“ but before Kuroko could finish his submitting plea for pleasure to his master, he was interrupted by Akashi. As if Kuroko had cast some kind of magic spell on him, Akashi bend over Kuroko and rode on him, fiercely driving his pet…No.
He fiercely drove his lover to the pleasure he had pleaded for. All while keeping an upright posture Akashi thrust deep inside Kuroko.
“Tetsu… _My_ Tetsu…let’s come together.” He whispered in his lover’s ear and as he came inside Kuroko, so did Kuroko came in Akashi’s hand. | 9aad89ffe2b5476b8b3aa07c40f47927 | ['ae6616d4e98e4da9a62880e865b951a8'] |
**Author’s Notes (Best not to be skipped)** :
Enjoy! (I'd like to remind you that, for the moment. I'll simply be uploading my Fanfiction.net stories here)
I also want to give special thanks to my first ever reviewer: **Flow . L (Fanfiction.net)**
_ Take Notice: _
Spoilers…
This story is a **Yaoi (male x male)**. This means that the **homosexual relationship(s)** between males is (are) illustrated.
If you’re particularly young or aren’t familiar/comfortable with this topic then I suggest you do not proceed to read this story/chapter.
Disclaimer: **I do NOT own the Anime or the Characters!** This work is for **entertaining purposes only** ; I obviously **make no profit** from this.
**All rights go to the creator: Masashi Kishimoto.**
**The only thing(s) that I DO OWN are the Idea (behind the story) and the story itself.**
You, my friend(s), have been both **informed** and **warned**.
* * *
It was a deal. Nothing more, nothing less-Naruto knew that. In an attempt to stop this war he went through with it. Though one can’t help but wonder. Would Naruto have decided to accept the deal if he knew what was going to be done to him? But the fact is, there was no way he could have known and now he stood shirtless and embarrassed in front of the enemy. He wanted to hurry and finish this as soon as he possibly could. But let’s take things from the beginning now, shall we?
When the Fourth Great Ninja War started and Madara was awakened, before Sasuke and team Taka as well as the four Hokages of Konoha arrived, Naruto clashed with him in the battle zone. The moment Madara saw the boy he felt his body as heavy as a mountain. His eyes had widened to give him a better view and, unable to move, he could only continue to gaze in awe. A blazing tornado had stolen his eyes.
At first Madara felt mesmerized-like something out of this world had shown itself to him. Up until that moment he had lived strictly to fulfill his wish to complete the infinite Tsukuyomi. He had never faltered nor had he ever yielded. Nevertheless, in just an instant of time, all of his determination was shaken. It was shaken by that one little brat with the sun kissed hair and cerulean blue glimmering eyes.
Then, they clashed. Hand seals were formed faster than the eye could follow. Weapons, such as shurikens and kunais, were thrown to the enemy and from the enemy they were all averted. And then the two ninja were in the air, as though gently floating onto the breeze, their eyes locked on each other.
Madara could see the sweat on the boy’s face. He could see the determination in his eyes, the determination to protect his friends-his family, to protect all his fellow comrades-the determination to stop what he perceived as a “mad” war. Then, on the other hand, there was anger-anger directed to the one responsible for all this sorrow. They were so close to each other.
However, there were some things which Madara could not see, or even sense. Fear, Frustration, Despair, Humiliation. Those ‘emotions’ were not present or, rather, instead of saying they were not present, it would be wiser to say that they never lingered long enough. Naruto was a human too after all, being so close to him Madara could tell. He experienced those emotions like everyone else did, but they never stayed long, in just seconds they were gone.
“ _What was strong enough to subdue them?_ ” Madara had wondered. The answer wasn’t hard at all, in fact Madara needn’t wonder at all. It was Hope, for progress, for peace, for acknowledgement. Hope drove determination and determination powered up Hope once again. They were close indeed. So close that Madara could clearly tell: no matter how close their bodies got they were worlds afar. And by the time their feet touched the ground he had decided.
If they were worlds afar then Madara only had to drag Naruto down to _his own_ world, the part of the world where light doesn’t reach.
And he knew exactly how to do it. He would use Naruto’s wish to his advantage.
After some time had passed and Naruto’s attack efforts were taking him nowhere, Madara decided to pop the question.
“Naruto. Do you wish for peace?” he asked, looking down at Naruto.
Even though the young ninja was supporting his whole body on his knees, and even though he was breathing heavily, there was no mistaking those eyes.
_“Indeed. That was a foolish question”_ he thought to himself, inwardly grinning.
“What if I were to tell you there is a way to attain peace quickly?”. The question roused the boy’s curiosity.
“… I’m willing to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?”
“For the next 24 hours you will have to listen and do everything that I command you to. Of course, I will not command you to attack or kill someone- if I do you can simply refuse. If, after 24 hours pass, you still insist on fighting me, then I will admit defeat and stop the war.”
Opening his mouth to answer, Naruto was cut off by Shikamaru’s hand.
“And what happens if Naruto ‘loses’?”
“Then the war simply continues and Naruto will be free to fight against me…. If he is still able, that is.”
Naruto and Shikamaru took their time discussing the matter over before answering.
“If I win… will you keep your word? Will you really stop the war?”
Upon hearing those words Madara leapt forward and stepped closer to stroke Naruto’s golden hair.
_All of these would be his soon._
A “certainly”, accompanied by a devious smirk, was the only answer the ninja boy received. |
e7411444721d483db6e4868f5b4f442e | ['ae67bfc7cf1b4a4d960ecbd40667202d'] | He hopes that these hallucinations or whatever they are, won't be gone once he gets to his endpoint.
///
Chenle stares at the crimson bleeding into the dying glow of warmth up in the sky, the last remnants of daylight being overtaken by the impending darkness that will shroud over. Twilight threatens to tip over, the in-between of light and dark balancing out the sky in halves of colors that are as equally different as the other.
The dirty red intermingles and dances with the hues of purple and navy. The colder, more abrupt colors lead and overtake, slowly yet surely swallowing up the last remnants of warmer, brighter tones, an impending visual countdown towards the night becoming stronger the more the seconds' tick by.
For such a breathtaking sight, Chenle feels unmistakeably empty at the sight of it. Perhaps it has something to do with the others beside him, feasting and uncaring towards the powerful visuals of the sunset.
He glances back at the mass of undead bodies a few feet away from where he sits on a patch of cracked dirt, multiple decaying forms hunching over the lifeless corpse of a young woman and painting their pale and stiff hands in the colors of her life, fleeting and deep like the sky above his heavy head.
Vaguely, he remembers how she tried to kill him earlier simply for the sake of satisfying the animalistic hunger for blood in her eyes mixed with something akin to near insanity, probably mistaking him for one of _them_ in the midst of her high after he had watched her consume some questionably colored mushrooms out of raw hunger and desperation.
Now she's dead because she couldn't outrun the pack of the undead that had simply watched her fall to the dry earth all on her own, her thin body convulsing in alternating jolts and croaks of evident fear and pain joining the foam at her mouth until she just froze, eyes remaining wide open and staring up into the unforgiving sky.
He wonders if this is an example of divine retribution or just bad luck.
He watches as the small group of the undead take her apart, limb from limb, bone from bone, crimson-tinted teeth scraping against muscle fibers and stomach entrails being gorged into red tinted mouths, their eyes unfocused and bodies moving mechanically, as if in no control of their actions. Her skin tears and bones break easily, too easily.
Chenle thinks that it's the opposite of the creation of life, like some kind of fucked up rewind where the human body gets taken apart until it's nonexistent–until it's not a human anymore but a simple meal inside the dysfunctional stomach of something that used to be human.
He wonders if this twisted play of cannibalism that tiptoes between choice and survival will continue to wreak havoc until there is nothing left to give.
" Hey man, you gonna have some? " one of them asks him, offering an eyeball–nerves, obliques, rectus' and all-towards Chenle, his own eyes looking away from the dismembered limbs and untouched golden halo of hair of the dead woman before looking at the undead boy offering him an entire eye socket.
It dangles and sways like a pendulum, loose tear duct fluids dripping down onto the ground.
His stomach, if he can even call it that anymore, lurches at the mere thought of holding the eye socket, let alone eating it.
It's been like this ever since he's started his journey, his appetite non-existent to the point where he feels like a sponge that only feeds off of the particles in the air. He doesn't know how long he'll last like that–if he'll last at all, that is.
So Chenle politely shakes his head and pats his stomach, feigning something akin to being full.
" Nah, 'm good. Thanks though" Chenle shoots the boy a reassuring thumbs up and hopes the heaviness in his stomach that he's feeling is not readable on his face. He watches carefully as the boy doesn't seem to think twice about his response, maybe a little too eagerly.
" Suit yourself " the boy merely shrugs and tilts his head back, scarlet mouth opening wide and the eyeball disappearing past it the next second. The fading sunlight glares right behind the boy's silhouette, shrouding him in a bath of soft light and his shadow covers what used to be the body of a living woman.
Chenle looks away and decides that the little detour he took in order to get a better view of the sunset is over and that it's time to walk once more.
///
He's been sitting down more and more lately, not exactly feeling tired because technically, he can't really feel anything physically. His skin and bones are far too cold to let him feel anything besides themselves.
He figures he sits under the towering pecan trees during the day to avoid the negligent and sinister UV rays that make his skin turn an angry, ugly red despite not being able to feel his flesh burning under the direct glare of the merciless sun.
So he sits by day to hide from the sun and walks by night to keep moving forward. It's come to the point where he's been sitting as much as he's been walking and he sometimes wonders at the tiny slithers of a doubt if he'll ever find what he's looking for.
He hopes he does in order to find a meaning within himself to keep going.
Briefly, he thinks about the man he encountered in the cabin before blinking away the past memory, not in the particular mood to relive someone's (second) death. Instead, he picks at his somehow immaculate nails, the mysterious red tint in his fingertips having traveled to his nails and making it look like he painted them a transparent blush. | 36e79ccbe14243b0bcef5d9a419050f8 | ['ae67bfc7cf1b4a4d960ecbd40667202d'] | He stares mutely up at what clearly looks and smells like a dead corpse standing in front of him, the putrid scent of rotting flesh making Chenle's eyes immediately water and throat close up with the sudden urge to retch. The man's whole being is a tragedy unlike any other, clothes torn and missing in various places and skin tinted a sickly green decorated with actual open wounds that show unwanted flashes of bones and decomposing muscle tissue.
Chenle wants to ask the man what he's talking about and more importantly, why he smells like he's dying. He's not sure what exactly is going on or how it's possible for someone to even smell like that.
Before his lagging thoughts can catch up to him though, he feels a bony hand as equally cold as his own take a hold of his arm, hauling him up effortlessly and the man's lifeless eyes gazing at Chenle briefly before walking towards the door hanging open by a single hinge.
Unseen pieces of glass crack underneath the man's boots as he shifts from foot to foot at the entrance, bringing the life of sound to the otherwise silent cabin.
He looks back at Chenle to make sure Chenle is at least still standing before exiting the crumbling cabin, the smell of decaying flesh following him and Chenle feels like he can finally breathe without doubling over now that he's alone in the cabin.
He takes a moment to look around at the cabin once more, noticing that the man has reason to claim that the cabin is about to topple over like dominos. The beam he had been leaning against when he had came to creaks all by itself, various chunks of it missing and the others looking worse for wear. There are missing floorboards both under his feet and over his head.
He decides that although the man is an utter stranger, he'd rather choose to face the consequences of following a stranger than being crushed to death while being in a state of confusion.
He steps forward slowly, his oddly tipsy body teetering like he's taking his first steps, the floor and ceiling swirling together while gravity acts against him before he straightens up and catches his balance.
Almost timidly, he walks over the thousands of pieces of glass that look a lot like glittering diamonds, watching as they crack harshly before breaking into even smaller pieces.
The door in front of him squeaks as he opens it as gently as he can and a visible tremble passes through the entire cabin as if it's on its last breath. The unforgiving movement makes Chenle pick up his pace and step out of the hazardous cabin.
He's met with a world that's all too bright and land so flat and desolate that he can see what lies far past the horizon. It's all so desolate that he can practically hear his own thoughts.
" Thought you was food for a quick second there kid. You're recently turned, ain't that right?" the walking and talking corpse in front of him asks, torn and dirty clothes doing little to cover him from the tremendous waves of too intense sunlight the young boy can physically see. Chenle knows he should be able to feel the sunlight, to feel how it's quickly turning both their exposed pale bodies something darker and redder.
He doesn't though, he doesn't feel the sting of heat that should come upon being exposed to the heatwaves he can feel at the tip of his tongue and rays of sunlight that have the rest of the world in various shades ranging from burnt umber to mustard yellow.
Why can't he feel It?
Chenle only nods mutely to whatever it is that the walking anomaly could be talking about, still wondering why his own skin is quickly going from its abnormal milky complexion to an angry scarlet.
He peers at his exposed arms, watching as they blush dark tones to the exposure of the watching sun and he vaguely realizes that he should be sweating, that he should feel _hot_ but all he can feel is an unnatural lack of heat preventing his skin from feeling the full effects of the visible rays of sunlight.
He doesn't feel _anything_ and he doesn't know whether that fact alone should be comforting or not.
" I thought so" the man takes in a slow breath, eyes looking up at the sky overhead and his hands that had once been curled up into fists fall slack at his sides. Something akin to a loud groan escapes from the cabin, making the man straighten up and turn to Chenle.
"Good luck, kid. Our kind don't last too long" the older man mutters to him, giving Chenle a once-over, a certain heaviness in his dull eyes that make Chenle take a precautionary step back, eyeing the man right back.
Their kind?
There's a lot of questions swimming in the back of Chenle's head but his mouth refuses to voice his questions out loud, a certain sense of dread keeping his lips shut as he just watches the man carefully.
Nothing follows, not for a while at least.
The man only continues to look back up at the sky with his eyes closed, breathing in the dust swirling around them and breathing out like he has all the time in the world. To Chenle though, it seems as if the strange man is trying to hold onto every second that he can.
The continuous calls of the cabin seem to finally snap him out of his trance, eyes slowly opening and one last breath being released before he starts heading back towards the cabin, by no means implying that Chenle follow him this time.
Chenle only watches, seemingly stuck in his spot and watching how the undead man doesn't look back at him and doesn't hesitate stepping foot inside the cabin. |
070ee31be6e54fe0ade51fb861b1594c | ['aea6e4f5cb7d48da8e637826ccada7e0'] | The best way to handle this situation was head on, to barrel through without giving Stiles a chance to think of a lie. He knew this from experience. Stiles my have been good at thinking on his feet, but not when he was being forced to provide some form of explanation. He could see Stiles' brain trying to shift in to a gear that might enable him to lie both quickly and convincingly, but he also knew that it would never happen. He knew that Stiles knew it was never going to happen, as well, he recognised the look of defeat that spread across Stiles' face. The look that always accompanied Stiles giving up.
"Danny told you?" he sighed exasperated, "Danny was here, we were working on a Chemistry project and I was harbouring Derek at the same time. Because, he wasn't actually guilty y'know, but I couldn't exactly tell Danny who he was. So I told him that Derek was my cousin Miguel, I don't think he believed me."
"Well that's a relief, at least I only need to arrest 1 twenty-something for statutory rape."
"What?"
He held the ancient pair of ripped jeans, Stiles had been wearing the day before, and waited to see how Stiles would react to the incriminating evidence. Stiles shrugged his shoulders and tried to act casual, although his face was flushed and his hands fidgeted There was no clearer indication that Stiles wanted to be somewhere else, in fact he looked like being on a crashing plane would somehow be preferable to being here with his father.
"I saw Derek at the store yesterday, with midnight blue paint on his hands, would I be right in thinking that these are Derek's hand prints. Derek was also kind enough to inform my that his bedroom was being painted midnight blue."
Stiles nodded, his head hung low, trying to train his gaze on the floor but settling for anywhere that wasn't his father's face. Sure that he was going to get some honest answers now, the Sheriff proceeded to produce the rest of the incriminating evidence in the form of Stiles' t-shirt. Stiles somehow found the ability to turn an even deeper shade of red, it was impressive and confirmed that he knew what the Sheriff was thinking, but more than that it confirmed that the Sheriff was right.
"Stiles, I decorated this house with your mother, I seen all of this before. I know about the silly things you do when you're in love and I just want to be sure that your not doing them with the wrong person. I don't care if your gay! I just don't want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of, it's my job to protect you from everything bad in the world, including a broken heart."
Stiles nodded, "We were just making out dad. Derek's refused to have sex with me until I turn 18, he really is a good guy and he'd never hurt me or my heart, I know it."
"OK then! Stiles don't be afraid to talk to me, I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to love and protect you, to try and help you. Please remember that."
"OK, dad!"
"And please remind Derek that I have a gun and enough knowledge of forensics to get away murder."
3. Nosy Neighbours
"Sheriff Stilinski, you need to keep that boy of yours on a leash."
"Oh God, what's he done this time Mrs McPhee?"
"Well I glanced out my window this afternoon, only to see porn, Sheriff."
"You glan-uh, I mean - Porn?"
"Yes Sheriff, he was standing on your porch!"
_'Don't say masturbating, please, don't say masturbating'_
"Kissing somebody."
"Kissing somebody isn't exactly porn, Mrs McPhee." he chuckled and then cut himself off, when Mrs McPhee delivered the ball-shivelling stare that had probably killed her husband.
"You don't understand, he was kissing another man. We can't have them doing that in the streets, thinking that people accept such abhorrent behaviour."
"My son is not abhorrent. Mrs McPhee if you can't keep your nose on the inside of your curtains for 5 seconds, then it's your own fault if you happen to witness something that you wish you hadn't. I appreciate you alerting me to fact my son may be gay, but I must stress I wasn't elected Sheriff to enforce your bigotry. If my son has a boyfriend and chooses to kiss him on my porch, that is their business and to a lesser extent my business, but it shall never be your business so stop interferring you old crone.
Mrs McPhee was taken aback at the Sheriff's outburst, to say the least, she stared at him for a few seconds then went inside. That was probably going to cost him votes when he had to run for re-election, thankfully Mrs McPhee and most of other Tea and Scandal set would probably be dead by then.
_'Roll on harsh Winter.'_
No that was wrong it wasn't Mrs McPhee's fault that she was the most raging pain in that ass, he'd ever met. Except was completely Mrs McPhee's fault that she was a pain in the ass, just like it was Stiles' fault he was a pain in ass. At least Stiles could blame it on a medical condition, what was the old bat's excuse? Well it was clearly time for the Sheriff to have another sex talk with Stiles, who'd been so obsessed with Lydia that discussing his being gay or bi had seemed completely redundant.
* * *
A few days later the Sheriff knocked on Stiles' bedroom door and pushed it open, when his teenaged son yelled "Yo" from the other side. "Stiles we need to talk, it may be uncomfortable for both of us. That's why we be talking at the kitchen table." | f510e2585c2f4655a1713d5be8b950e7 | ['aea6e4f5cb7d48da8e637826ccada7e0'] |
1. You're The Only One - Maria Mena
Well I saw you with your hands above your head
Spinning around trying not to look down
But you did, and you fell hard on the ground
Then you stumbled around for a good 10 minutes
I said I'd never seen anyone look some dumb before
And you laughed and said "I still know how to turn you on though"
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming, through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I mean
And I probably forgot to tell you this
Like that time I forgot to tell you about the scar
Remember how uncomfortable that made you feel
See you're not what I expected
But you're the only one who knows how to handle me
And you're such a great kisser, and I know that you agree
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming, through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I mean
I hope you can forgive me for that time
When I put my hand between your legs and said it was small
'Cause it's really not at all
I guess there's just a part of me that likes to bring you down
Just to keep you around
'Cause the day that you realise how amazing you are
You're gonna leave me
You're the only one who
Holds my hair back when I'm drunk and get sick
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I mean
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming, through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I mean
Exactly what I mean
Well I saw you with your hands above your head
Spinning around trying not to look down
But you did, and you fell hard on the ground
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> LINK
2. From The Heart - Another Level
I know you've heard these words a 100 other times before
And you've been hurt and so your heart has chose to close the door
Love broke your heart and brought you lies, look in my eyes
You'll see a love that deep and true, tender and strong and all for you
You can trust this love, honest, that's the honest truth
From the heart
I'm giving you everything, everything
From the heart
I promise you that I'll be there
I'll be there to love you
From the soul
I'm showing you all I feel
All I feel is....
From the heart, from the heart
I will respect you and protect you and be all you need
And when you reach for love you'll only need to reach for me
These arms will never let you down, they're staying around
I'll walk with you through every storm, I'll keep you safe, I'll keep you warm
And you'll have no doubt, you're the one I'm living for
From the heart
I'm giving you everything, everything
From the heart
I promise you that I'll be there
I'll be there to love you
From the soul
I'm showing you all I feel
All I feel is....
From the heart, from the heart
I'll provide the love you need
Just trust my touch, believe in me
I'll never make you cry
Givin' all I got, with all I got inside
From the heart
I'm giving you everything, everything
From the heart
I promise you that I'll be there
I'll be there to love you
From the soul
I'm showing you all I feel
All I feel is....
From the heart, from the heart
From the heart, from the heart
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> LINK
3. Endlessly - The Cab
There's a shop down the street
Where they sell plastic rings
For a quarter a piece, I swear it
Yeah I know that it's cheap
Not like gold in your dreams
But I hope that you'll still wear it
Yeah the ink may stain my skin
And my jeans may all be ripped
I'm not perfect, but I swear I'm perfect for you
And there's no guarantee that this will be easy
It's not a miracle you need, believe me
Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me
But I will love you endlessly
Wings aren't what you need, you need me
There's a house on the hill
With the view of the town
And I know how you adore it
So I'll work everyday
Through the sun and the rain
Until I can afford it
Yeah your friends may think I'm crazy
'Cause they can only see
I'm not perfect, but I swear I'm perfect for you
And there's no guarantee that this will be easy
It's not a miracle you need, believe me
Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me
But I will love you endlessly
Wings aren't what you need, you need me
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
Yeah the ink may stain my skin
And my jeans may all be ripped
I'm not perfect, but I swear I'm perfect for you
And there's no guarantee that this will be easy
It's not a miracle you need, believe me
Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me
But I will love you endlessly
Wings aren't what you need, you need me
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
You need me (Girl, you know you need me)
There's a shop down the street
Where they sell plastic rings
For a quarter a piece, I swear it
Yeah I know that it's cheap
Not like gold in your dreams
But I hope that you'll still wear it |
030b0caa37b6456f98f6be207a150acb | ['aeb3741fde6a45e8a31d6d203bb6493e'] |
Withdrawal
**Author's Note:**
> if anything's inaccurate sorry i dont actually have personal experience involving drug withdrawal
Craig came into consciousness slowly, the heaviness of deep sleep still weighing on him. After releasing a long exhale to dislodge the thick, stagnant air from his lungs, he brought his senses back to himself with a quick exhale, searching for whatever had caused him to wake up in the middle of the night. Quiet sobs and insistent thumping broke through the haze of Craig’s fatigue. The boy pushed himself up onto his elbows and squinted around the room until lethargic eyes fell upon a quivering mass pressed against the bedroom door.
“Tweek…?” The blonde let out a startled shriek muffled by his own arm held tightly over his face. The exclamation broke off into a choked sob. “Babe, why are you out of bed?” Craig forced himself away from the heated sanctuary of thick blankets and quilts stacked upon the bed into the chilly air of the bedroom. When he was met with no reply other than quiet whimpers from the other boy, Craig pushed himself to his feet and groggily shuffled over towards the door before lowering himself to a crouch in front of his shaking counterpart. Not reaching to touch him, not yet, Craig let out a reassuring hum, waiting for the other boy to speak. The blond whispered words insistently into his own skin. It was too muffled for Craig to hear and was punctuated with a loud whine.
The dark-haired boy rocked back on his heels for a moment before sliding himself incrementally closer. He murmured softly,
“Honey, I’m here, okay? Can I touch you? Is that okay?” Tweek gripped himself tighter but nodded sharply before giving off another full-bodied shudder. As Craig reached out for the other, Tweek wrenched his arm away from his face and slammed his fist back against the door by his head. Tweek let out a loud groan, wide hazel eyes darting everywhere in the room other than the boy sat before him, whose lips pinched slightly in concern. Craig hesitated, fingers hovering by Tweek’s arm, waiting to see if his limbs would strike out again. Tweek started to whine again through chattering teeth.
“Why is the door locked? Why why is it locked? Locked! OH GOD--” His fist pounded weakly at the door again, repeating his words in almost inaudible whimpers and moans. Craig gently circled Tweek’s wrist with his hand, smoothing his thumb over the obvious blues and purples of the veins lining the inside of his arm.
“I asked my parents to lock us in my room, remember? We agreed we’d lock the door. To keep you safe,” he reassured the boy. Tweek merely grunted, then choked again on his own bated breath.
“I don’t—don’t…! Why’s it feel so bad?” he croaked out. Craig’s brow furrowed as he raised his unengaged hand to slide his fingers across Tweek’s gaunt jawline, cupping his cheek.
“I’m sorry it feels so bad, Tweekers. We knew it was going to be bad going in, but you said you didn’t need to go to in-patient.”
“W-want… God, I hate how hate how bad I want. But I just want it to stop!” His yellowed teeth bit down harshly into the chapped skin of his lips, biting off more convulsive whimpers along with the skin. “I hate this. I hate how much… Hate me. How me for doing this…” His lip was bleeding. Craig swept his fingertips farther up Tweek’s palid complexion, over the imperfections of scarred, pitted skin to brush back the thick, greasy blonde locks from his forehead, sticky with perspiration. Craig cooed gently,
“You didn’t do this, babe. It’s not your fault.” Spindly fingers, shaky but insistent, gripped the raven-haired boy’s wrist, sliding his finger back down so Tweek could nuzzle his stricken face into his palm, wiping the blood from his mouth off onto Craig’s skin.
“Ngh--! Brought you-you into this… Should’ve.. l-let you… Let you… AGH!” His stubby nails dragged incrementally across the back of Craig’s hand. The noirette paid the slight scratching no mind and continued to stroke Tweek’s hair, working his fingertips deftly along his scalp.
“You didn’t make me do anything, babe. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I want to be here.”
“B-but…!” The blonde’s breath hitched as he drew in rapid, short breaths, shrinking away from the slightly taller boy. “Awful! So a-awful!” He batted Craig’s hand out of his hair and wound his own fingers through his hair, pulling harshly.
“I know. This is awful.” Craig tried to reach out again in an attempt to stop the shaking boy, but was stopped by Tweek’s other arm swinging out haphazardardly. The blond’s eyes started to glaze over, the blue growing hazy with tears.
“I’m awful!” Craig clenched his jaw.
“No.”
“Y-yes!” Tears began to spill down Tweek’s sunken cheeks as he sobbed, “I’m awful! I’m awful because of w-what I want to-ACK!- d-do!” His fist flew downwards now, thumping against the hardwood sharply before his hand turned to claws and he began to paw repeatedly at the floor.
“It’s just the addiction, Tweek. Soon, you won’t crave that ever again,” Craig hastily assured him. His certitude did little to slow the desperate fingers scraping against the hardwood.
“N-not that! Gah! I-its… I don’t want to do this! I’m not strong enough! I’m awful! I don’t want to do this anymore! I don’t want to live with this! Why is the door locked? JESUS!” His voice was growing hoarse with his cries, and he settled back into the anguished moaning of a trapped animal.
“Honey. Tweek, please. Please don’t…” Craig’s usual monotone had gained an almost pleading lilt. “It’ll get better, I promise. Just a little bit longer, please. For me?” Craig’s voice wavered, and he shook his head to clear the uncertainty and desperation clouding it. His voice thick, he cursed quietly, “Fuck I’m so bad at this. I’m sorry. Please.” Tweek needed him to be strong still. The blond’s eyes became impossibly wider and wilder.
“OH GOD! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Craig. Sorry! I—hgn!!” He pitched himself forward towards the ground, Craig only just being able to catch him before he rammed his head into the ground.
“It’s okay, Tweekers. You’ll be okay. I love you so much.” With shaky hands, Craig resumed stroking blond scraggly hair, hoping this time he could successfully relieve a fraction of the tension Tweek held.
“Love… love… too.” He barely heard it, but Craig’s smile was grateful. He could tell it was winding down again. He pressed his lips to Tweek’s forehead.
“Do you think you can get back to the bed?” he asked in a quiet murmur.
“C-can’t… T-t-too—“ Tweek broke off into a quiet whine, but was promptly hushed by his ever attentive boyfriend. Craig could only think to continue winding his quaking fingers through sweat-soaked locks while he continued to reassure his ill boyfriend.
“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay…” The two held each other tight, each only wanting for the other to be able to stop shaking, so they could be well and sleep.
Laura Tucker unlocked her son’s door the next morning and peeked inside to find him and his boyfriend curled up on the floor at the foot of Craig’s bed embracing, sleeping peacefully. She smiled graciously; it had been too long since she last saw both boys getting enough sleep. She quietly shut the door to leave the two in peace and went about her own morning rituals, feeling more at ease than she had in weeks. | 724db23ae31a4748b2654c0a832df20e | ['aeb3741fde6a45e8a31d6d203bb6493e'] | “Don’t beat anybody up! N-nobody’s said that specifically, but well that’s what they mean, right? I mean, that’s what I am, anyway…” Kenny’s azure eyes flashed with indignation, but he quickly let out his rage in a slow exhale through the nose, not wanting to give Tweek the wrong idea about who he was mad at. Besides, there were obviously more pressing matters than which assholes were getting added to his shit list.
“Listen to me, Tweek.” Kenny spoke levelly, weighing each word with undoubted certainty. “You aren’t ugly, you’re not a spaz, and I like hanging out with you. Fuck what anyone else says. They’re all idiots.” Tweek worried his lower lip between his teeth as he snorted in reply,
“Easy for you to say; you’re still the pretty one here.” Kenny’s brow furrowed.
“Sure, there are a couple people who go weak for a pair of blue eyes, especially when it’s all they see. I’m still not most people’s cup of tea. And I’m cool with that. Looks don’t mean shit.” He finished off with an indifference shrug. He quirked a brow at the squawk he was replied with.
“But still there are people who think you’re pretty!” Tweek groaned, “It’s a lot harder to just shrug it off when everyone thinks you’re gross!” Kenny clicked his tongue and shook his head emphatically.
“Don’t say that, Tweeky. I know for a fact there’s at least one person who thinks you’re downright adorable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with fondness.
“And who might that be, hm?” Tweek asked, disbelief apparent.
“Me, of course,” Kenny grinned. He was met by more groaning from his companion.
“Don’t say stuff just to make me feel less shitty, dude. That makes me feel-ugh-more shitty.”
The grin quickly morphed into a pout. “I’m not just saying stuff. I mean, look at you!” The corner of Tweek’s mouth twitched downward as he quirked his brow.
“I don’t think I see your point,” he said gruffly. Kenny scoffed,
“You want a list? You got it. We can start off with your nose. It’s so small and the way it turns up is super cute.” Tweek narrowed his eyes and sniffed loudly.
“Like a pig’s.”
“Pigs are cute too,” Kenny smoothly intervened, “So you’re only helping prove my point. And anyway, it’s all freckle-y, too. You can’t deny freckles are cute.”
“Kenny.” He’s groaning again. Always moaning and groaning when he’s stressing himself out. “You’re the one with the one with the cute freckles. Mine are just all over and mix in with all the acne.” Kenny wouldn’t be dissuaded.
“Cute freckles; and the way your nose crinkles up with you laugh really hard is absolutely adorable.” Before he could be cut off again, Kenny rushed into his next point. “And your eyes, goddamn Tweekers, they’re the prettiest things. Hazel is just so unique and so you. And the way they turn down at the corners, when you calm down for two seconds and give those peepers a break you just look so sleepy and relaxed; not shitting ya, Tweeky, you’ve got some sexy bedroom eyes.” As Tweek’s eyes grew wider and his cheeks bloomed with color, Kenny’s expression turned to one of giddiness. “And there’s my favorite part. The way you blush is so cute. Your cheeks go so red. I wonder, are you a full-body blusher?”
“Okay, I get your point! You can stop!” The boy griped, throwing his hands over his beet red face. “Did you come here to embarrass me or what?” Laughter bubbled up from Kenny’s chest, light with a fluttery feeling.
“Nah, I figured we could both use a good night’s sleep.”
As Kenny tried to ease Tweek into a more relaxed position, he realized he had been sitting on the bed this whole time still in his wet jeans and muddy sneakers. Needless to say, the bedspread was filthy now. Sheepishly, he helped Tweek strip the bed, who had merely shrugged at his mumbled apology. The soiled comforter was thrown in a tangled heap off the foot of the bed and Kenny kicked off his ratty sneakers and peeled off his soaked socks. As he was urged to also remove his dampened jeans, an impish grin ghosted across his face.
“Tweek, you dog, trying to get me outta my pants now?” The boy squealed in indignation, his cheeks burning a bright red once more.
“Nevermind you can die of hypothermia; Idon’tcare!” He threw himself face first into the sheets. Kenny crawled in after him, inching carefully closer.
“C’mon, I was just joking,” he cooed soothingly, “Let’s cuddle so neither of us will freeze.” Kenny eased himself down, tucking himself close to Tweek’s side. The other blond froze up, whining Kenny’s name in embarrassment. Kenny snorted and began smoothing his hand over Tweek’s hair. “I’m not trying to pull anything, promise. Let’s go to sleep, okay, sweetheart?” A wary hazel eye peeked out at him from the mess of frizzy blond, regarding him from a moment before he assented with a grunt, relaxing into Kenny’s side.
He would never admit it, but he didn’t have to. Kenny knew Tweek always slept better with him there. And that would always make these freezing, late night treks across town worth it.
**Author's Note:**
> im not sure how i feel about this one but its up anyway! |
a5a0431db5154ed4bf412389e99832f4 | ['aeb388f1d5fc4efd866a283b5aedf894'] | She had even more to say. About how even if he decided he wanted kids when they were fifty, they could adopt, or foster, or have her eggs frozen in case. About how he was the single most important person in her life.
But before she could, he pulled her into a kiss. And she was finally convinced he understood what she was trying to say.
After what felt like an eternity (but realistically had been about thirty seconds) he pulled away, and gave her a soft smile. “It’s like you said. I’d never imagined having children with anyone else before you. Even before you brought it up, the thought occurred to me. The only thing that put me off was imagining I could mess someone up as bad as my dad did to me.”
Amy nodded. “But now you know that your dad’s problem was that he didn’t care enough. You care almost _too_ much.” She laced her fingers through his. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad.”
“I know, right?” He grinned playfully. “I’m going to make our kid like everything I like, until they just become a smaller version of me.”
Amy gave him a look.
“Jeez, I’m kidding! If they’re even a tiny bit like you, they’ll be the best kid ever.”
They lay down and snuggled each other, voicing their thoughts on what their hypothetical child would be like.
“Are we really about to unleash a combination of me and you on the world?” Jake asked, and Amy rolled her eyes. “That’s way too much power.”
Amy wanted a girl first, and Jake was fine with whatever, seeing as he’d never given the subject much thought. They talked about gender reveal parties (Jake loved them and Amy thought they were idiotic), baby showers (they both agreed to let Charles organize it) and the cute names kids had for their grandparents (Jake wanted to keep his dad from finding out they had a kid until they were fully grown and in college). They were definitely getting ahead of themselves, considering they hadn’t even started trying, but they didn’t care. It was all so exciting.
Eventually, Amy ordered Jake to go to sleep so they could be up first thing for the waterpark. And as she drifted off, she couldn’t get the image of a curly-headed baby Peralta out of her head.
**Author's Note:**
> none of my other pics are canon compliant or based on episodes, but I needed to get this off my chest or I wouldn't be able to live.
> if you enjoyed, leave kudos. have a great easter if you celebrate and a great nothing if you don't | 9b34c9f91f544313b0087acfa043fe9c | ['aeb388f1d5fc4efd866a283b5aedf894'] | Jake walked back into the precinct, taking in all the various sights and smells. He was no stranger to long absences from work (in fact, they were kind of his specialty) but the last three months, while they were not easy, were definitely rewarding. For once, he wasn’t returning to the precinct after some kind of forced absence that left him traumatized. So it was a different type of triumphant return. Instead of feeling relieved, he just felt kind of...achy.
But that was fine. He was here to get back into the exciting groove of being a detective, solving crimes like the genius he was.
He spread his arms in front of him. “The bullpen. Just as I remembered it. It’s good to be back.”
“Yeah!” Charles cheered. Nobody else seemed to care, which was also just as he remembered it.
“So,” Charles scurried behind him as he headed to his desk, “how’s little Charlotte?”
“Look Charles, I gave my daughter Charlotte as a middle name because you played a tiny, insignificant part in us getting together. However,” he held up a finger, “you can’t keep ignoring her actual name, or I swear I’ll get it legally changed.”
Actually, he named her Charlotte because of a bet he and Amy made, but that was a whole other story.
“I still can’t believe America’s Dream Baby shares my name.” Charles continued, as though Jake hadn’t said anything. “Someone, formed from your and Amy’s seed-“
“Nice chat buddy.” Jake interrupted, before he could get even more graphic.
He walked over to his table, which smelled a little funky (there might or might not be a three month old turkey sandwich in there) and plopped down. It had always been weird getting back into the rhythm of the precinct, but this time it was even weirder, because the reason he’d been gone wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
The first thing he took out of his bag was a picture of Rachel. It was taken not too long ago, and in it she’s sitting on Amy’s lap, laughing as Amy pulls a funny face.
He took a deep breath and started his computer. He could do this. He _had_ done this, for more than ten years. There was no reason this should be any different than his first year as a detective.
Except back then he worked to support his unhealthy shopping addiction, and now he worked to hopefully, someday be able to pay off his debts so he could finally contribute to his daughter’s college fund (which Amy had created about a week after they’d gotten engaged.)
Jake tried not to think about the fact that one of the main reasons he’d become a stay-at-home dad in the first place was because he’d missed Rachel too much. He was Jacob Sherlock Peralta. The best detective in all of Brooklyn.
*****
“What? Of course I don’t miss her.” Jake scoffed. “Who do you take me for, Rosa? Amy? I don’t care that my mother will probably scar my daughter for life, or that she’s probably had about five milestones since this morning and I’ve missed all of them. And I’m definitely not a helicopter parent. I don’t even care that my mom is gonna completely ignore the extremely detailed binder and feed her unpasteurized cheese or something. I don’t care at all. _Worried_.” He scoffed again, and shook his head at her.
Rosa stared at him. “All I said was, ‘can I have the file’. That’s it.I didn’t want to know any of that.”
“Sure, Rosa.” Jake said, raising a knowing eyebrow.
“We have a case to solve. And I don’t want to be involved in any of,” she gestured in his general direction, “ _this_. You understand?”
Jake tried to focus on the task ahead of him. “Yeah.”
“Cause you’re starting to sound like a real Terry.”
Jake put a hand to his chest, offended. “Come on, Rosa. Just because I have a baby doesn’t mean I suck as much as Terry.”
“You guys know I can hear you, right?” Terry asked, from where he was standing a few feet away.
“It’s not weird,” Jake continued as though he hadn’t heard him, “that I left a detailed set of instructions on how to take care of her-“
“ _You_ made the binder? By yourself?” Rosa asked incredulously.
“I might have made some contributions-“ Jake tried to say.
“Oh my God, you _suck_ now.” Rosa declared. “Now you’re acting like an Amy. Maybe I should just ask Charles to help on this case.”
“No!” Jake insisted. “I’m still Jake, your favourite person-“
“Not really.”
“-and amazing detective. We’re going to blow this case wide open.” He stood up, caught up in the momentum of his speech. “Now, what is the case?”
Rosa raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you listening to anything that was said during the briefing?”
Jake gave her the short answer, which was: “No.”
The long answer was that Jake had delayed dropping Rachel off until the last possible moment, and missed the briefing altogether. But Rosa didn’t nEde to know that.
She sighed. “Some guy was stabbed in the neck. We haven’t yet identified a murder weapon, and we have to go check out the body.”
“Great, let’s go right now.” Jake suggested.
“Whoa, there, Master Detective.”She held up a hand. “Hitchcock and Scully had to use your cop car last month, and that went about as well as could be expected. And last week I threw a drug dealer through my windshield.”
“What exactly happened since I left?”
“Took down a major heroin dealer, nothing major.” Rosa said, in her usual verbose manner. “But we need a way to get here. So unless you want to take my motorcycle-“
“You know that’s not happening.” Jake interrupted. “We’ll take my car. We’ll catch the bad guy, and it’ll be just like old times.”
Rosa looked doubtful, but said nothing. |
ff4fa3e35c424e26bb6e1849d0f48df6 | ['aec202665daf49baadcf42cbc9c62b29'] | -Long story short I was not and he proved it to me.
-Man that must suck.
-Tell me about it.
-Man I am sorry to end it short but I have some troubles and I have to deal with them.
-Something happened?
-Yeah I think a friend of mine got dumped and I have to be there for him. Maybe you should call Lufffy also. He will be so glad to hear you. By the way when are you coming home?
-Two, maybe three months.
-Good to hear man, good to hear. I will save the number. Call me any time you want.
Ending the call, Usop tried to reach Sanji but it was useless. His phone was closed. That was not good. Usopp knew Sanji and his history, knew that his friend would now close himself and suffer. He had to do something but what?
\- Present –
Zoro just got home when a loud knocking sound has heard from the door. Not even checking who it was he opened the door and was knocked down by a very happy, slim, black haired but strong boy, arms like rubber embracing him.
-Zoroooooooooo!
-Hi Luffy! What a warm welcome! Now can you get away from me so I can breathe?
-You are back!
-Yes I am back.
-Hi Zoro!.
-Usopp! Glad to see you two.
-Zoro I have so much to tell you and so many things happened and I am glad that you are not dead and…
-Luffy, you dumb ass, slow down.
-Sorry, sorry.
The boy was still in his lap, both on the floor. Usopp helped them both get up and asked:
-Should we have a drink here or going into town?
-How about Merry?
-Ah …
-What?
-You see Zoro Merry was closed a while ago.
-Whaaaatttt???!!! But I liked that place.
-Yeah but we found some place very cool. It’s called Thousand Sunny and it’s awesome!
-Usopp what are we going to do about Sanji?
-Who is Sanji?
-You know when we talked on the phone when you told me you were coming home? And I said I have a problem with a friend who got dumped?
-Yeah, so?
-That friend is Ace’s ex. His name is Sanji and is a very good friend of mine.
-Ok. So what’s the problem if you want to meet him too just give him a call.
-Here comes the problem. The last three months he declined to do anything else except work. He shouted himself down and we can’t reach him anymore.
-So what does he do?
-He’s a chef at Baratie.
-I know the place. He’s at work now?
-No, he had the morning shift so he is probably at home.
-And you really want him to come with us?
-Yeah, we tried to help him since they broke up but nothing helped and he is not ok.
-Call him then!
Usopp got his phone from his pocket and tried to reach Sanji but his phone was shut down.
-It’s closed.
-I will help you with your guy and if it works you’re paying my drinks tonight how about that?
-Usopp the Great will pay your drinks for a week if you manage to help us. What will you do?
-Give me this guy’s address. And you go at Zunny or what you said that place was called.
-But Zorro …
-No buts. Go! I’ll call you later.
-OK. This is his address and this is the place’s address.
-Zorro, be careful he has a kick that really hurts.
-It’s that so Luffy? What else do I need to know? Can I play with him?
-No Zorro you are not allowed to hurt him! He is our friend and nakama.
-Ok ok you guys can leave. I will bring him.
-Good luck!
Zoro wanted to drink with his friends and to feel good so why the fuck has he volunteered to do this shitty job? Sanji huh? He was waiting for the cab and thinking what he should do. If his friends were worried he had to help no? And is a friend can’t help the dude maybe a stranger could. The taxi came and took him, he got there in 15 minutes, this guy was quite close from his place. It was Friday evening so the perfect time to get into town and have a good time. He had luck, the door was opened and he had to walk up only two floors. He found the door and knocked. He didn’t know what he will do but he thought that perhaps he will convince this guy to come with him. When the door opened he froze, looking at the handsomest guy he saw since long. His words were blocked in his throat as he looked in one wild blue eye, and even though it had little red veins, it was like a wave had hit him. He noticed his blond hair that seemed so smooth that he wondered if it would be soft to touch. Weird eyebrows, so he was not perfect but the last think he saw was that the man in front of him was holding an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His lips were almost white, chapped but oh so very tempting. He wanted to say something. He wanted to ask so many questions, he opened his mouth but nothing came out so he closed it back. | aeeecca2149f4f9494cf529363670f0f | ['aec202665daf49baadcf42cbc9c62b29'] | “Oi, oi, oi, don’t, please! I didn’t want to make you cry!” he heard Zoro saying but didn’t want to look at him. He was not able to! He was so ashamed about himself. He was so weak! No wonder no one wanted him. He was too engulfed in his own sorrow.
But then he felt it, he felt someone else’s body heat and the marimo was hotter than a fireplace.
“What are you … hic … doing?” he asked between tears and trembles. It was a very little quiet voice.
“Embracing you, it is my fault you are crying so I am taking responsibility.” Zoro was as quiet as him and his voice let no pity, worry or anything else, just soothing.
“Why? Don’t you dare pity me!.” He tried to yell and scream but all he could handle was like a little kitty hissing.
“I’m not.” Smooth, quiet voice in his ear. He felt the embrace tightening a little.
Zoro’s right hand stayed on his back while the left moved to the blond hair, slowly touching his neck and head. Sanji managed to not cry anymore and wanted to get away from the green haired man but he couldn’t move. It has so hard to get out of the embrace because it was the first time in three months, maybe even more, when he felt warm. Realizing this, he felt his tears rolling from his eyes again. He barely managed to say a few words.
“Let me go, please!”
“Why? Give me a good enough reason and I will do it.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you embracing me? I am not worthy! Go! Leave!”
“I won’t, so don’t struggle anymore! I want to do this and there is almost nothing you can tell me to make me let you go now. So you could as well give up!”
What the fuck was with this man, he was sweet and infuriating in the same time. He was a stranger, but he was feeling so close to him right now.
Feeling like the blond man from his arms could react both ways at his words he thought what he should do. He had no idea what he was doing just that it felt right. Sanji was broken, he felt that and even though he didn’t know the blond, his tears made his heart clutch in his chest. So he took the stranger in his arms and it felt the right thing to do.
Caressing his head and embracing him he started slowly swinging his hips in a little kind of dance. The sound of the whining stopped but the man said nothing any more just stood in his embrace and let himself be slowly swayed.
He got scared when he felt Sanji slip away. Zoro could not believe, when he took a closer look at the blond head, that he was sleeping on his feet. He really felt asleep in his arms. A smile appeared on the green head’s face. He continued the action long enough to be sure Sanji was not going to wake up if he stopped and then he took him in his arms and put him in the bed. He was lucky that he found the dormitory in his third try, first entering in the kitchen and bathroom. He didn’t know the man’s house so he had nothing to be ashamed for. There was no blush on his cheeks and even if it was there was no one around to see it.
Zoro tried to slip away but then the sleeping men’s head moved very fast and his breath fastened. He looked like he started having a nightmare the moment Zoro’s body got away from him so Zoro did what he thought the blond deserved, moved in the bed with him, placed a hand in his hand and with the other caressed the other’s face while shushing very, very quiet. Did he really relax just by being touched? How lonely did this man feel? How much did he need someone to get him up? The more he thought, the more he felt Mihawk’s words coming back: ~ It has to be the right time, right place and right feeling. ~
He wanted to help. Did he really? He looked at the man soundly sleeping. His eyes were red and puffed on the surface, and dark almost to the cheeks, his lips were almost colorless and chapped but it looked like he was deep asleep. Yes, he wanted to. It was the right feeling right there. Not pity but the need to see the other man smile. He felt it will be a long road with many obstacles and problems and they were still strangers but this is what he wanted. He was feeling a little proud that he got through Sanji’s defenses.
Zoro realized he was not going to get out drinking with his friends as he planned, with or without the person on his left, and seems he was not bothered by it at all. He took the phone from his pocket and saw he had some unread messages. So that he won’t wake the blond up, he first put it on mute and then looked at the messages. It was kinda hard to do all this with just on hand but he was not about to release Sanji’s hand, not that he could, his hand was being hold so tightly that he almost couldn’t feel it any more but he was not going to do anything about it. If this is what Sanji needed, than he would give it.
All five messages were from Usopp.
“Dude are you there? Did you get to the address ok?”
“Please tell me you didn’t get lost”
“Guys tell me you are not fighting right now.”
“Are you ok?”
“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING AND WHY ARE YOU NOT ANSWERING MY MESSAGES?”
With a little chuckle he started writing. |
0544d28f70a9487586c076d769c70863 | ['aed2b2935831443c95cad60f6610055b'] | Turning back to her writing, she sighed as she read over it all. It sounded, off. As though it wasn't really her writing the words. As she looked at them she felt like she was reading about someone else's life. It was all so surreal. She knew of only one person that would be able to help her out with it. The problem was, that there was no way that she could go and see her at three in the morning.
Sighing again, she turned to face out the window, staring up at the moon. Maybe the dream was just meaningless, like all of the other ones that she had. Despite how comforting those thoughts sounded, she knew it wasn't true. There was just something about it that told her it wasn't ordinary.
She started absently tapping her quill away against that parchment of her journal. Slowly each tap started to match the ticking of the clock on her wall. Her head started to slowly nod off again. Scenes from her dream started to flash in front of her eyes and she jolted back to consciousness.
Sighing again, she finally decided to give up on sleep. Looking down at her journal she noticed that there was a large smear of ink running across the page she had been working on. She groaned and packed it all up, there wasn't any point in continue with it. Grabbing a spare piece of parchment she quickly wrote a letter, before sneaking downstairs. A cup of tea would be perfect right then.
* * *
Luna sat up in the garden outside her house. It didn't matter that it was three in the morning. She was waiting for something. What it is was she couldn't say, but she knew that when the time was right she would know. She hummed to herself as she waited.
She looked up and smiled at the moon. It was full, that meant it was to be a good night.
An owl hooted and swooped down to land on her arm. "Hello Errol," she said, absently feeding him a treat. Walking back into her home she thought how tomorrow would be an excellent day to visit the Barrow.
* * *
Harry, after waking up for the fifth time that night, decided that he wasn't going to get anymore sleep. Looking at the clock he saw that it was five in the morning. He grabbed his dressing gown and decided to head down to the kitchen. He carefully maneuvered his way down the stairs while avoiding doing anything would make so much noise that it would wake someone.
At the bottom of the stairs he was startled to hear quiet voices coming out of the kitchen. He pushed open the door and saw Ginny and Luna talking quietly. He absently wondered when Luna had got there, but decided it was best not to think about; hardly anything when it came to Luna made much sense.
"Morning girls," he said, quietly moving to poor himself a cup of tea, before taking the open seat beside Ginny.
"Couldn't sleep either?" asked Ginny, scooting a basket of biscuits towards him.
He nodded, accepting one. "Yeah, I was having some strange dreams-"
"About the three of us?" Ginny asked, finishing his statement.
Harry looked at her startled, "How did you know?"
"Both Luna and I had the same problem last night. That is actually what we had been discussing when you came in here."
Harry sighed and placed his head in his hands, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. "So what does it mean?"
He could feel both Ginny and Luna place their hands on his back comfortingly.
"It means," said Luna, "That we wait and see what they mean for us."
3. Rebellion
_**Rebellion** _
"Your leaving."
Harry turned and nodded to her.
She sighed and moved over to help him pack, unsurprised that Luna was already there. They remained in silence for several moments, each thinking the same thing as they filled Harry's bags. They knew each other as well, if not more so, as they knew themselves. Each understood that they had a part to play, and that it meant they need to go their separate ways for the time being.
Once they were finished they sat cuddled together on the bed, each girl had their head rested on one of his shoulders. None of them really wanted to break the silence, it was comforting yet there was still an air of tension around them.
Eventually Luna spoke, "One day we will be together again."
She smiled, feeling reassured by those simple words, and she snuggled into his side.
"Thanks Luna," said Harry. She could tell he was smiling.
After that the tension seeped out of the room.
She felt Harry freeze for a split second and then sigh. She looked up at him, he was staring rigidly at the wall in front of them. She placed a hand on his face, and gently tilted his head towards her. She stared into his eyes, conveying everything that she could not put into to words to him. After a moment she spoke. "Don't worry about them, I will handle mum and everyone. You just worry about what you need to do."
Understanding seeped into his gaze, but he still frowned lightly, "Though wont your mum be worried..." He trailed off, at loss for words, but she knew what he meant.
"Mothers are all slightly insane," she told him, in an almost serious tone of voice, but the effect was ruined by the hint of amusement that could be heard and the light smile that graced her face.
Her chuckled and shook his slightly, "You never cease to amazing, with your... Well your everything. The same for you Luna." | 4c2ba6c7255f4e2c8b6d9a8ad2a836ef | ['aed2b2935831443c95cad60f6610055b'] | After several minutes of constant talking, over each other to make sure that Harry knew everything, the girls ran out of things to say.
Harry kissed both of there foreheads, smiling widely at them. "Thank you my little angels, I shall take care of that immediately. Meanwhile, why don't you two go play outside, it is a beautiful day."
They grinned brightly up at him, before swiftly kissing his cheeks and running off. He watched them go feeling so proud of what wonderful children he had. Once they were out of site he stood and headed to the kitchen, knowing that is were his two wives would be.
"How is my Fire and Moon this fine day?" he asked, with a mischievous grin.
Ginny smacked his arm scowling at his antics. "Be nice, we have been busy cooking dinner." Then she grinned lightly a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, "Wonderful darling. And now that your home you can help us."
Luna just hummed in agreement before kissing his other cheek, "Welcome home."
Harry shook his head in amusement earning him another smack, before sticking his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alight. You win, as always."
He would never admit it out loud, but loved cooking dinner with his two girls. Anything that had them spending time together was one of the best things in the world in his books. Even though he never said it allowed, he knew that knew how he felt, and that they also felt the same way.
"I wonder if it will be enough," said Ginny, worriedly, eying the table that was nearly jammed packed with food.
Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her melt back into his embrace. Luna came up and hugged her too.
"Ginny, with with your family coming over, especially Ron, no amount of food is enough food," said Harry, causing all of them to burst out laughing. He continued on with a more serious note, "Besides, I am certain that your mother is bringing something, and knowing her it will be about the same amount as this. I don't think that we have anything to worry about."
She sighed, and he could feel a lot of the tension leaving her body. "I suppose you're right."
"I am always right," he assured her. This time both Ginny and Luna smacked his arms.
"Prat," said Ginny, shaking her head in amusement.
Harry turned her around and pulled her into a quick kiss before saying, "I'm your prat." Then he pulled Luna into a kiss too, "And yours."
"I think that I can live with that," said Ginny, smiling widely.
"Forever and always," agreed Luna, snuggling into his side.
"Forever and always," repeated Ginny, doing the same to his other side.
He kissed the tops of their heads, before repeating the words himself.
" _Forever and always."_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Okay, so I finally completed this on this site. I had a multitude of computer issues, which led to me forgetting about this account. When I remembered it I couldn't login, so it took a while to get that sorted out. Thanks to the wonderful staff! Now I hope you enjoyed the story.
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: Please note that yes the dreams are not normal dreams. Nor are they reality. So things that happen in your dreams can happen there. I will explain them later on in the story.
>
> I hope that you enjoyed my prologue, and I have piked your intrigue for my story. Don't forget to tell me what you think of it! |
73faf4660f6346c4b7cc2da2fe147f49 | ['aef7e864d9c042f7a24f669c05b8d06d'] |
Damon is controlling Elena's dreams - or is he?
She was dreaming about Damon again. Elena moaned out loud, twisting in the sheets and straining towards his imaginary form. Her mouth was covered by his and she could feel that she was giving everything up to him, falling into alabaster skin, wicked mouth, burning blue eyes and that intensity that was so frustrating in normal life and so irresistible in her fantasy. He slid a finger into her soaking entrance and she echoed his motions, flicking at her swollen clit with desperation. Her insides contracted, and she came awake, but with only enough awareness to carry on the fantasy, imagining furiously what he might do to her next. It took only a few more strokes, imagining his mouth closing on one straining nipple, his face next to hers, his cock pushing into her and her body started shaking, rippling with the unbearably sweet waves of her orgasm. She lay there, gasping, as the aftershocks trembled through her. Then, slowly, the regret began to ripple over her.
It always took the shape of Stefan's eyes, grass green, warm and understanding, expressing everything that was still beyond Damon – gentleness, respect...humanity. What would Stefan think of her? Covered in sweat, still tingling, having made herself cum to the thought of his brother for the fourth time in as many days. It only seemed to be getting more intense – the dreams more vivid and the orgasms more powerful.
The idea of Stefan looking at her as she was, the thought of what she'd done, should have cooled her heated body. It always had on the days before, but this time the tingling between her legs actually seemed to grow as she thought of someone discovering her shame. She shifted uneasily on the bed, moved her legs back together and took a deep breath, trying to quell the restlessness slowly building back up between her thighs. She could feel her clit swelling again, throbbing for attention and suddenly she imagined Damon looking at her as she was, naked, her juices all over her fingers and her mind a mess. What would he think of her? What would he do? Her breasts ached imagining his gaze, imagining him moving towards her, making her feel just how sluttishly she was behaving... Without really thinking about it, her hands slid back down her body, one stopping to play with her nipple that was suddenly diamond hard again and the other hand moving down between her legs, finding the swollen nub and stroking it. For god's sake, she couldn't do this again. If Damon were here (a small sigh escaped her) he'd probably try to bite her, probably lose control, force her into all kinds of mistakes. The idea of his mouth at her neck, of his teeth entering her as his cock thrust deep, owning her in every way, hit her suddenly and she realised that she'd arched her body off the bed and that her fingers were now moving frantically. She'd never been so aroused in her life and this time as she came, she cried out sharply, feeling her walls close around her fingers as she shook in the largest climax she'd ever had.
Afterwards, she couldn't move for a while. Her thoughts were trying to clear but she wasn't ready to deal with them. She raised her hand to her lips and unthinkingly licked her fingers, the naturalness of such a carnal, greedy motion taking her by surprise. To her horror, she felt herself begin to move her hips again and it was only the thought of what it would mean if she masturbated three times in one morning, of how desperate and low that would make her, that made her manage to pull her hand away and stagger towards the shower.
Under the water, she felt sanity returning and with it a sharp sense of real, deep shame. Who was this person who fantasised about her true love's brother, who couldn't stop playing with herself? She loved Stefan, she knew she would always love Stefan and help him come back to himself, but the longer he was away and the deeper she was forced to understand his darker side, the more Elena felt as though she was losing herself along the way. The dreams terrified her. It was strange how they started so suddenly and how vivid they were. Also the darkness... so much more than she'd ever wanted before. She blushed suddenly, feeling the heat travelling all the way up her body as she remembered again what exactly she'd been fantasizing about when she'd cum so incredibly hard. She shook her head to dislodge the memory and focused on washing out her conditioner, hopefully along with whatever madness seemed to have suddenly possessed her.
Damon.
She froze suddenly, feeling a chill even under the hot water. He could enter her dreams. He'd done it before – just because they were closer now, why on earth would she think that would stop him? She wasn't the kind of person who would fantasise about a vampire drinking from her – she knew that. And she also wasn't the kind of person who could ever long for the touch of a man – a vampire – who had no moral compass. Someone driven entirely by his own desires, killing out of choice, whenever he felt the urge, even her own brother. She was such a fool to have trusted him for a moment, even if he had been there for her recently – Elena suppressed a slight twinge as she thought of how earnest and reliable he'd seemed – how much she'd started to need him – what a fool she was. He was still Damon. She should have remembered that he had no limits, as well as who she really was and who she wanted to be.
The fury began in the pit of her stomach, burning viciously, twisting and growing until it reached her throat. How dare he? He'd made her question herself, question her true love for Stefan, question everything she thought she wanted. She was going to kill him. Elena shut off the water and wrapped her towel around her, automatically shutting out the thought of (what if Damon was there to wrap her in the towel and...) - she hadn't even realised how automatic the fantasies had become. She laughed suddenly, the sound brittle in the too-silent house. She was going to go after him right now. She was going to rip him to pieces...
“Elena?”
Jeremy was home. Elena took a deep breath, doing her best to pull herself back into her other life, the human one. She felt another flash of resentment at Damon, who often made that life -the real world - seem so dim and grey by comparison. Damon-killing later and sex dreams later, macaroni cheese and math homework now. | becec0c5c3fa4bfebc07b890d12f14c9 | ['aef7e864d9c042f7a24f669c05b8d06d'] | After Season Six ends... (The Vampire Diaries)
It had taken too little time to say goodbye. Now, suddenly, the coffin was closed and the dance was over. Damon stepped out of the crypt, his face blank. What happened next? He couldn't bear to go home, to look the others in the face. Not until he'd decided what to show them. Even bourbon held no appeal – Elena would be shocked. The sudden stab of pain was brutal and he quickly moved away from the thought. After all, what was 70 years to a vampire? He would see her again. Until then he had to live his life, whatever that turned out to be. He ached to feel her in his arms and suddenly turned back – Bonnie hadn't sealed it yet, there was still time... but there she was. The witch. She must have arrived a few minutes ago and suddenly he realised how far away he was from himself. Most of him was still there, back in the crypt, holding Elena and never letting her go. Usually he knew the moment Bonnie was near – ever since she had her powers back it was as though she made the air around her hum. Damon didn't understand how no one else seemed to notice – it made him amazed that her friends continued to treat her as though she was simply Bonnie, good old meek, sacrificial Bonnie. Didn't they see what she had become?
'Damon?'
She was standing front of him. She was bleary. Oh, wait, no, that would be his eyes. He had to leave. Now. Just as he was about to get the hell out, vamp speed, she put her hand on his arm. He snatched it away, suddenly so angry that she wasn't Elena that he couldn't stand to meet her eyes or be anywhere near her.
'Damon, are you...' Stupid question, clearly he wasn't ok. She changed tack, clever girl to narrowly avoid a biting. No Elena to stop him. Only the fact that he liked Bonnie. Suddenly that seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world. He could feel his fangs beginning to tingle, and her expression changed. A few months ago, she'd have backed away, but not now. They'd been through far too much and instead she stepped forward.
'Go on. Try it. You want to hate me, do it. This was your choice, remember? Ifyou're going to change your mind, I'd rather you tried to kill me now. I won't spend my life being blamed by you.'
Damon heard a blood-curdling rumble and only slowly realised it was coming from him. He could still taste Elena, still feel her pressing against him, was still half-roused as he always was anytime he could smell her – he'd never felt anything like the sheer bliss of being wrapped up in her and now that was gone, gone for half a lifetime and somehow he had to keep it together. He had to break something and it shouldn't be Bonnie.
'You need to leave.' He ground out, knowing his face would be shifting. 'I'm serious. Get out now, I can't-'
'You think I can't take you?' she threw back at him, and for a moment 'take' seemed to have another meaning, just adding to his blood boiling. 'Come on then, vampire, give it your best shot. You chose _me_ and now I want the chance to prove I was worth saving. I'm not going down without a fight.' Her green eyes sparkled at him – she looked so alive in that moment that alongside the pain and rage he felt a flash of something like pride.
'Bonnie, I'm not- I can't- _please_ ' to his total horror he could hear something other than rage breaking through in his voice. Because she was right, damn her. He did choose her. He broke his promise to Elena. He put someone else's life ahead of hers. And now he had no idea who he was.
\---This is my first attempt at fanfic so any feedback very welcome indeed! |
642724b09af04b81a1ab3a04fe73fa41 | ['aeffbb6483454197ad1df4558c3143d9'] | It's been a week since I stood and told the tale of my clan. People were treating me better but the Slytherin's still tried stuff. One in particular cornered me three times, each time ending with him in the hospital wing. I don't think he actually understands that my so called bodyguard are protecting them not me. Even if I complain a lot about being escorted. In the end they are protecting the student as a whole, they just don't know they are. I let out a sigh at this time I had ditched my body guards and was currently in the astronomy tower sitting on the edge singing softly.
_"Nobody knows who i really am._
_Nobody sees the real me_
_Nobody pays attention to the screams._
_I ain't no saint I ain't no sinner the war is starting where heaven lies I am in the middle as a prize The Demons keep trying to take me but the angels keep pinning them back_
_Everyone walks about blind to the reality of time_
_Everyone knows the fake me_
_Everyone ignores the screams_
_I ain't no saint I ain't no sinner the war is starting where heavens lies I am in the middle as a prize the demons keep trying to take me but the angels keep pinning the back_
_Nobody knows where I've been_
_Nobody seen the things I've seen_
_Nobody hears the voices I heard_
_I ain't no saint I ain't no sinner the war is starting where heavens lies I am in the middle as a prize the demons keep trying to take me but the angels keep pinning the back_
_Everybody knows where I haven't Been_
_Everybody see's the things I can't_
_Everybody ignores the demons that came from my dreams._
_One day everybody will open their minds, when their minds open will be the day they will see what they ignored all their life's. All the signs will be blinding to them. The demons they once could not see nor hear will be waiting there. The angels will abandon them like those who abandoned the screams_
_Nobody knows who I really am_
_Nobody seen the things I've seen_
_Nobody paid attention to the screams"_
My voice echoed over the school not realizing two professor's had come up to see who was singing.
_**Third person P.O.V** _
Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stood behind Phoenix. The tone of the boy's voice was like a angel had stepped foot on Earth. It was filled with sadness yet hope at the same time. They had came up because hey heard someone singing. They began to notice student's as well as more professors had come to see who was singing. Some on the ground others where they were.
When the boy finished his song he let out another sigh.
_**Phoenix's P.O.V** _
I had let out another sigh before starting another song. This time one from the muggle word. It was by 'Shania Twain Any man of mine' Is what it was called. I sang for a good while without noticing all the people listening to my songs. When I had enough singing I finally noticed the crowd which was clapping and cheering.
I looked around surprised to see so many people. I got up and turned around to see more people. It looked like the whole school was there. I actually was shocked to see so many people.
_**Third person P.O.V** _
The crowd started to disappear. Phoenix started to head to dinner yawning. When Charlie and the twins suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Phoenix do you know how long we been looking for you only for you to be up at the astronomy tower." The twins said worriedly. Charlie had a disappointed look but said nothing. "I was there to breath with you, your brother and the professor's there is no breathing room. You need to give me space otherwise you will drive me away. I can take care of myself." Phoenix said firmly he was annoyed it was only his first year and everyone was smothering him. His clan was the same was which was why he would have been home schooled.
In a way he was grateful they weren't around anymore, but he still felt empty and sad they didn't deserve they way they died. He wondered if it was his curse that made everyone smother him like they have been. He walked away heading to the Great hall. He sat down where he always sat. He had this feeling that all this would triple next year when Harry came to school. He sighed softly again as he started to fix a plate. Charlie sitting down beside him with the twins. "We're sorry we just want you safe. With how everyone is staring at out and whispering, we just don't want anything happening to you." Fred said.
George spoke next "we really don't want to push you away. We are just worried." Phoenix nodded "I understand but I'm only eleven no matter how old I act. Smoothing me like you have been isn't good for me." He said as they nodded. He went back to eating while they sat down and started eating as well.
The rest of the day went smoother than the year. Phoenix was getting compliments about his singing. He was happy he finally got through to the twins. The professor's back off some too.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/n: I want to know a few questions.
>
> Do you want Phoenix to have more mate's? Who do you want as his extra mate's if yes? Do you want a chapter on the massacre of the Rosezerian clan?
>
> Do not steal the song I created it. And if you see anything that doesn't make sense comment I will try to fix it or explain it to you
>
> The next chapter won't be out til winter at the earliest.
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: let me know how I did with this first part the next part will be Christmas I will be trying my best to keep it to the books just with a OC | a23cdbb6b4cb4fefb75b1eaad6211482 | ['aeffbb6483454197ad1df4558c3143d9'] | The next day, Bella eyed Angel as he eyed her. “What are you wearing?” Bella made a face eyeing her brothers outfit. “I could ask you the same thing, but i keep my opinions to myself.” Angel gave a very dry laugh, “Cowboy boots, red flannel, and skinny jeans. While this wouldn't look horrid the way you have it styled.” Bella shrugged, “I didn't I threw it on.”
“Why are you wearing red yet a blue headband? In what world does that make sense?” Bella hummed scratching her head sheepishly. “It was the closest headband to me?” Angels face morphed even more with horror. “At the very least if your going to wear that accessories proper Bella.”
Bella made a face but turned to her room nonetheless. “I'll change my headband. Nothing else.” angel sighed in aspiration. “You could at least put a tabletop under you shirt. I mean who just buttons up a flannel shirt and calls it a day?” Bella released a groan. Grumbling to herself as she walked to her room. Closing her door harder than she usually would. Angel gave a satisfied smile.
“Well my job here's done.” than Bella walked out once again. Angel groaned placing his hand over his face. “Ok, seriously that's not even the right shade of red.” Bella threw her hands in the air. “We need to head to school.” Angel by passed her into bella's room.
“Your boots and pants are fine. Everything else needs to go.” Bella crossed her arms over her chest. Watching as Angel mumbled to himself pulling out cloths. “Here put these on.” Bella rolled her eyes but pulled off her flannel and threw it at him. Angels hand shot out grabbing the shirt before it should hit him.
Bella pulled on the black led zeppelin shirt, Angel than threw her flannel back at her. Something she pulled on but didn't even attempt to button. Angel let a grin come over his face as he chunked Bella a simple necklace with a black cord and charm. She caught the necklace and the bracelet with the crosses on it, Angel had also thrown.
“See sister paired with this brown jacket more for warmth, it's a nice outfit while still being your style.” Bella sighed, glancing from her dresser than Angel a few times. Angel walked over to said dresser. Pulling a matching red headband from it. He handed it to Bella who sighed in relief. Handing him the one currently in her hair and putting the new one in.
“Ok, I actually like this outfit so i'll wear it. But don't expect to dress me everyday.” Angel rolled his eyes at her. “Only on days when you don't seem to care about what you look like. As I have always done sister dearest.” Bella nodded looking her own brothers sense of style over.
He had gone simpler today than he normally did. With a black sleeveless top, black ripped up jeans, and boots. His necklace wasn't so different from her own, and his jacket that was spiked, one sleeve being red and the other being black. It was actually the only thing that stood out in his outfit.
Angel shrugged off Bella's stare. “Come sister we don't wish to be late now do we?” Bella grabbed her backpack pulling it over her shoulder. “We are late.” she grumbled only for Angel to beam. “Fashionably so.” they weren't truly late however. Both Angel and Bella believe firmly if you weren't five minutes early you were late.
When they had pulled up to school, they found that all eyes had moved to them. That could be because Angel pulled in directly behind Bella. Bella got out of her truck slamming her door. She walked over to her brothers truck. Standing by the drivers side door as he got out. “So what..” Bella was abruptly cut off by Alice who had made her way over to them. Jasper by her side.
“Your truck is fabulous.” Angel snapped his eyes to Alice. A small smile making its way across his lips as they began conversing on how he had found his truck. Bella shifted when both of their attention snapped to her. “Your outfit is so you.” Alice cooed her hand on her cheek as she eyed Bella's clothing in appreciation. Angel sighed also eyeing his sister.
“It is isn't it?” him and Alice mumbled back and forth as they eyed her. Bella's eyes snapped to Jasper who smiled at her when he noticed her staring at him. Bella shifted uncomfortably. While she was comfortable with her brother and mother. She got a bit antsy when large groups of people started to form around her.
“I'm walking Angel to class Jazzy, he’s in the same building as me.” Alice locked arms with Angel who stiffened at first but relaxed seconds later. He eyed Bella who stiffened at Alice's words. “Ill catch up to you later ok sis?” Angel asked cautiously eyeing Jasper with narrowed eyes. Bella didn't get a chance to respond. Alice had already swept her brother away.
“What building is your first class?” Bella stiffly turned to Jasper. Who was staring at her intently. “Building four.” she mumbled lowly her hand tightening on her backpack strap. Jasper sighed, “I ain't planning on hurting you or anything. My sister just stole your brother I figured the least I could do was walk ya to class.” he ran a hand through his hair almost roughly. Bella watched him and his actions silently for several moments before she finally just sighed.
“Alright.” Jasper snapped his head down to her. “Alright?” Bella nodded as she turned on her heels heading towards her class. “You can walk in the same direction with me. We may even talk as we walk who knows?” Jasper chuckled under his breath hurrying after her. |
ef42b38a908749cdaa1bf3ee16ce0088 | ['af250fddb7b54428949081819265d9d2'] | "Admiral, sir," Jim tries calmly, licking his lips as he gathers his thoughts. "There are people aboard that ship who needed our help. There are still people aboard it who might be unwilling prisoners. What did you want me to do?"
Pike slams his palm down on his desk hard enough to make his stylus jump. "Follow protocol! You can't just wing it all the time, Jim. You can't just leap in blindly with both feet and trust that everything will work out, because it usually doesn't. You're the Divisional Point One now, try to act like it! There's this little thing called diplomacy we usually like to try within the Federation; a small consideration we call sovereign rights!"
"The sovereign right to hold people against their will?" Jim counters hotly. "To deny them proper medical aid? To scare them so badly they won't even talk about what they're doing on that ship in the first place? To mess with their memories so they're not even making sense?"
"Not your place!" Pike shouts, enunciating each word separately so they sound like a sentence in their own right.
The two men stare at each other across lightyears, both keyed up, both visibly struggling to remain professional. Finally, Pike bites his lip and presses his eyes closed, head turned to the side as he collects himself.
"You're going to give me a full report. You're going to include as detailed an account as you can of everything that was said and everything that you saw aboard the _Tat'sar_. You're going write it up, then file it in triplicate and you're going to do it within the next sixty minutes because I've got the entire Federation Council breathing down my neck over this one." Pike opens his eyes and pins Jim with a fierce expression. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," he manages, teeth gritted.
"Right," Pike sighs heavily. "Now, between you and me, who are they holding and what's the situation?"
Jim scoots forward until he's sitting on the edge of his chair. "Right, it went like this ..."
-:-
Jim's request to see the additional passengers aboard the ship certainly gets a reaction, just not the one he is anticipating. The Vulcan he addresses actually looks frightened for a moment. It is almost imperceptible, but Jim hasn't made a hobby out of interpreting the slightest raise of Spock's eyebrow for nothing. Also, fear is a pretty difficult emotion to mask.
Senekot chooses that very moment to reappear, tall and calm and utterly Vulcan in his disdain for Jim's insistent request to see these so-called 'Elders' he was informed were aboard. The Vulcan captain's eyes flick to where Eli has his back turned; an instinctive and very telling response.
"No," he is told, as though that could possibly be the end of it.
"Why not?" Jim tries to be reasonable, even though some instinct is telling him that this is it; this is the crux of the mystery of the _Tat'sar_. "You've let us see the others, why not all of them?"
Senekot turns cold, fathomless eyes upon him. "They are dead."
"Dead how?" Jim feels Christine join him and is thankful for her presence by his shoulder.
"That is a Vulcan matter."
"It's an EPAS matter according to Federation Treaty."
"I think you will find that the Treaty only refers to living passengers aboard a vessel registered to a Federation world."
Senekot might not be smirking, but he doesn't have to. The contempt rolls off him in waves. If Jim didn't have the ESPER rating of a cabbage, he'd have sworn the feeling was leaching right into the vengeful parts of his own cerebral cortex. Senekot was actually enjoying this.
"Then I guess you won't mind showing us the bodies," he reasons, forcing a cold smile. "For our report, you understand. I'm sure you can appreciate the need for thoroughness."
Senekot's eyes narrow slightly, but that is the only betrayal of his anger. "You may access their citizenship records on our database," he deflects, gesturing to the terminal set into the laboratory wall. "I will have one of the technicians grant you permission."
The Vulcans move to comply and Jim takes the opportunity to lock eyes with Chris. He can see a world of caution in them and knows he should take her unspoken advice. His earbuds bleep, reminding him for the fifth time that he's ignoring another incoming call from his DivCO. Spock is going to be pissed.
The Vulcan tech steps back and inclines his head in invitation. Jim flexes his fingers and moves to the screen. Before him is the face of a young, auburn haired human woman. _Algebrides, Mary Kate,_ the name reads. He moves his finger across the pressure sensitive screen, flicking to the next face; a Vulcan male. The next, another Vulcan, this time female. On the third he freezes.
It can't be.
"No," he whispers, shock warring with an unexpected feeling of loss. "No way."
Before anyone can stop him, his fingers fly across the terminal, breaking through the quickly erected firewalls and plunging into the true data that lies behind the flimsy facsimile of death certificates. Jim's always had a good relationship with computers. He can smell a rat a mile away, and these notices of death frankly reek of deception. | f73a084b3f4a4a1a8747613228ac6a5a | ['af250fddb7b54428949081819265d9d2'] | They're sitting on a low couch near the expansive curve of the Observation Lounge's main window. Scattered groups of other Alpha crews, Ops and internal services staff are present, but most people are eating in the mess or their quarters at this time of day, which gives the illusion of privacy. After several further attempts at subtlety, they'd discovered that Spock's talent for lying lay elsewhere. The new plan was for Jim to lay the groundwork and for Spock to top it off with a bald statement.
Spock allows Jim to swallow before he says, utterly deadpan, "my father was an Andorian spice trader," and Jim manages to choke on air anyway.
The Commander's eyes narrow in concern, but Jim holds up a reassuring hand and just reaches for his glass of water. "Oh man," he sighs after washing his throat clear. "You're hilarious."
"The aim of this exercise is not to provoke hilarity," Spock reminds him, sounding faintly concerned.
"Don't worry, it won't be funny when we're doing it for real."
With a faintly offended air, Spock straightens his relaxed posture to its customary state. "I shall have to assume you are correct."
"Go again," Jim prompts, trying to get him to loosen back up.
"I believe it is your turn."
Jim tilts his head in consideration. "Fair's fair, I guess. Um, let me think," he scratches his free hand through his short blond hair, the plate of pasta balanced precariously on his knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Spock is slightly obsessed with that plate and its history of several near-misses with gravity. "Okay, here's one," Jim clears his throat. "I was once a bartender at a place where the tables were waited by monkeys."
Spock studies his face carefully for any traces of subterfuge. "You are a most consummate liar," he acknowledges.
"Actually, that one was true."
Both of Spock's eyebrows shoot up.
"There's this place near the Academy in San Francisco, do you know it?" Jim dismisses that possibility almost immediately. "No, of course you don't. Anyway, every month they feature a different animal in their wait staff. Of course, the animals have handlers, but the novelty is still there." Jim pouts in recollection, "actually, the monkeys were pretty good. It was the Denebian Slime Devils I have second thoughts about."
Their eyes meet and hold.
"You are lying about the Denebian Slime Devils."
Jim gives him a thoroughly mischievous look. "Believe me, I wish I was."
"The health regulations alone ..."
"Denebian Slime Devils," Jim reiterates firmly, "serving your fries. I shit you not."
Spock's face flickers through a complicated series of micro expressions as he struggles with both the content and the colloquialism.
"Don't try to analyze it," Jim advises, patting him on the knee. "Just eat your pasta, safe in the knowledge that humans are ridiculous."
He leans back against the couch, crossing his legs and rescuing his plate for the fourth time. After a few moments, Spock also allows himself to settle against the cushions, twirling his fork with newly found expertise. They watch the stars streak past at warp speed. Jim sips his water, a feeling of contentment gradually taking hold.
"Lieutenant?"
"We're off duty, call me Jim."
"I have two years, nine months, three weeks, six days and seventeen point four hours of shore leave accrued."
"Hey," Jim crows approvingly, "that was excellent! You're really getting the hang of this!"
"That was not a lie."
"Oh."
"Should we have the opportunity to take shore leave in each other's company, Admiral Pike implied we may wish to develop a confidential means of greeting one another, but I fail to see how this would be an appropriate use of our time."
"Right." Jim looks sideways at him. "Are you planning on taking shore leave?"
"Recent events have necessitated the development of a rotational system for leave across all crew groups aboard the _Stalwart_. I have been persuaded that it is logical for me to participate." Spock stares calmly out into space, devoid of emotion. "There is no compulsion for us to maintain contact during that time."
"What would you do, where would you go?"
Spock's left shoulder gives a minute twitch. "I have not given the matter much thought."
"The colony, maybe? To see your father?" Jim thinks it makes sense. If Spock's telling the truth, he hasn't spent any time with his only remaining family since his planet was destroyed.
"I am unsure of my welcome."
"Oh."
He's so not qualified to be having this conversation, but Spock is actually telling him things and Jim takes a moment to absorb that before his heart rate kicks up a notch. Deliberately, he slouches down a little more in case any of his enthusiasm shows. Somehow, and he's not exactly sure how, this lesson in lying has turned into a sharing of truth, and he's suddenly realized how much he wants to unravel the puzzle of his commanding officer.
He glances at Spock and tightens his fingers around his half empty glass of water. "My father died on the _USS Kelvin_ the day I was born." It's not relevant to their conversation, but it _is_ something he never talks about, so instinctively, it feels like it fits.
Spock is clutching the edges of his plate. "I have a brother, Sybok. We do not speak of him."
"We call my brother Sam, even though his name is George. He married some girl and had a kid, so that makes me an uncle." Spock turns to look at him so he shrugs self-consciously. "Shit, I don't even know how to be a brother, how can I be an uncle?"
"I am the last person you ought to ask."
"Sybok doesn't have any kids?"
"It is possible," Spock concedes. "I have no way of knowing if he is even alive."
"Because of Vulcan?"
"That, and more."
"What did he do, that you guys disowned him?" |
4aea328af14b4bf69db71a305bb07ac8 | ['af25c37872364ad699429fb6b0ff007b'] |
We should build a snowman
**Author's Note:**
> Just FYI English is not my native language and I feel kinda insecure about it right now, but I hope this is readable!
> The snow we had this weekend inspired me to write this and I thought it was pretty cute so I decided to share.
>
> Hope you like it as well!
It had started snowing last night. And it had snowed a lot, so much in fact, the door needed an extra push to open. Bucky had woken up early, excited of the snow, hurrying through his morning routines to get himself out. He loves snow – just like every kid does. He loves the brightness it creates and the way it makes people smile, as well as the silence and peacefulness it brings. And the memories of past Christmases, all pinned together in the snow falling down from the sky. And like the other kids: he loves playing in snow.
As soon as the young boy has dressed himself up, new mittens and all, he runs to Steve's house. People who walk past him are smiling, saying hello's and good day's and Bucky nods back politely. People don't do that when it's dark, when the world doesn't feel as light as it looks right now.
* * *
When Bucky gets to Steve's house, it doesn't even surprise him to see his friend waiting outside, wearing a big grin on his face. Steve is standing by the door and as soon as he notices his best friend arriving, he runs clumsily towards Bucky wearing boots that are way too big on his tiny feet.
“Mom got me these!” he hiccups and lifts his feet from the snow. Bucky laughs a bit, but agrees with his excitement, the boots do look soft and warm.
“They're cool, but not as cool as these!” Bucky shows off his new mittens and sticks out his tongue.
“Where did you get those?” Steve asks innocently, now holding Bucky's hands, studying the colourful mittens in awe.
Bucky wonders if he should tell the truth, that he had stolen the mittens from a booth from the market while the keeper wasn't looking. He didn't tell the adults at the children's home, though. He doesn't want Steve to lie for him.
“I found them from a bench by the park” He looks down and takes his hands away from Steve's. Before his friend says anything he continues:
“We should build a snowman. I know you want to make snow angels, but snow angels are for girls”
Bucky teases and then squats to make a snowball.
“They are not!” Steve pouts and protests but follows his friend's lead any way.
* * *
For a moment it's just them making snowballs and Bucky's wondering if Steve's mother would be angry at him if he started a snowball fight. Not that she would ever _really_ be angry at him. He doesn't want Steve's clothes to get wet and him to get cold. Cold makes Steve sick and his mother sad. He leaves the idea and starts rolling his snowball on the ground to make the bottom of the snowman.
“Let's make the biggest snowman ever!” Steve shouts from a distance after a while. There are green patches showing here and there on the ground. The small boy is rolling a snowball almost half of his size around and Bucky smiles. That's gonna be the bottom part it seems.
“You need help with that?” He asks once Steve's feet start sliding and the ball refuses to move forward. Steve nods and Bucky sprints to help him.
* * *
After and hour or so, the snowman is finished and both Bucky and Steve are exhausted.
They had put some small rocks as it's eyes and mouth and a bigger rock as its nose. It had taken the both of them to get the head to the top. They had to make it smaller than it originally was, so that it wasn't too heavy to lift. There were many more ugly green spots on the ground after making it but luckily it kept on snowing and they spots were invisible soon enough.
The snowman looks awesome, and it's almost as tall as Bucky.
“Are you cold?” He asks Steve who is studying the snowman, smile on his face.
“Nah. Are you?” Steve looks back at his friend, whose dark hair is covering the left side of his face and whose nose and cheeks are red. He shakes his head, even though his hands are getting cold as the snow had made his mittens wet.
“You wanna make snow angels then?” Bucky asks with a tantalising voice, although he's being serious.
“I thought you said they were for girls” The other boy grins and takes some snow and starts making yet another snowball gently between his hands. Bucky grins.
“Well, that's-” Bucky stops as he notices Steve getting ready to throw the snowball. “Uh-oh”
Steve smiles mischievously and waggles his eyebrows.
“You better run!” He threatens but gives Bucky a fair head start. Bucky takes few steps back slowly and then runs away, feeling the snowball hitting his back a few seconds later. Steve laughs and Bucky stops to take some snow and makes a snowball while running.
“The tree is my base, you are not allowed there!” He shouts back at his friend who keeps throwing snowballs at him and sprints to the tree, feeling another soft snowball hitting his head.
* * *
The fight is over once they give up making snowballs since they take too much effort to make and end up throwing snow at each other lazily. After that, they end up wrestling in the snow and laughing at each other.
Steve's mother shouts them in for lunch and they do as they are told, both of theirs tummies rumbling for food.
After lunch, Steve's mother tells them to stay indoors for the rest of the day, since both of their clothes are wet and they'd only get sick if they went playing again. Steve objects to that but Bucky just nods. He knows better than to disobey Mrs. Rogers' words, she's always been right so far.
Steve and Bucky end up making stories about their imaginary friends who live in a place that never stops snowing. Bucky feels more at home than he has in a long time. Winter is his favourite time of the year and being with Steve is his favourite place to be in the whole world. | fee5aacdaa984ac5aedf83b44a782677 | ['af25c37872364ad699429fb6b0ff007b'] | “It's okay. Is it alright if I finish what I was gonna say?” Erica sounds so genuine again, with that tiny smile on her face, like she’s exactly where she needs to be, content, just doing her job.
“Yeah”
“I’ll keep this short. You’d want Steve to talk to you, about the harder stuff too, right? And would still be happy around him, if he did" Bucky nods.
"Don’t you think that’s exactly what Steve feels, too? I’m sure he just wants to be around you, no matter what, and is happy to be with his friend no matter what. He cares about you, just like you care about him” Bucky can't nod to that, not quite.
Erica places the paper on the table and gets up from her chair. She walks to a cabinet in the corner of the room and takes something from there. A blanket. She walks back and holds it up. “Doya want this? You can sleep for the rest of the session, you look exhausted”
Bucky smiles. Soon there’s warmness around him.
"Talk to your friend, James"
He's not sure if she had said that or if he just imagined.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Let me know what you think, my muse lives for comments! |
b08ee3fd058643a09b372365dcad5fb9 | ['af3478fe777142d98859cff9cd8a5128'] | “So how did you meet them? You seem to know them pretty well. Do you all serve in one place or…”
Varric wasn’t trying to pry- no that was lie. Varric was always trying to pry. He wasn’t trying to be invasive. However, he was really curious about these Dalish that seemed very different from the ones he had met. Daisy would get a kick out of them.
Ellana smiled and said, “No. We all live at different temples. I met them when they were much younger. I was sixteen when I first joined the priesthood, and the twins arrived a few weeks after I took my vows. They had been orphaned, and they were only nine years old. I had been having a hard time settling into temple life so the Raj’ha’haren at the time assigned me to look after them while they got settled. She thought it would be good for all of us. She was right, as usual. Helping them get settled helped me to understand my own place in the temple a little better. I wound up practically raising those two. When they were seventeen they decided that the priesthood of Mythal wasn’t for them, and they went off to join different temples. I was invited to both of their initiations. I was so proud.”
Ellana smiled to herself and took another sip of her tea. The smile only lasted a moment before the small crinkle appeared on her forehead again.
Varric put his now empty cup down, “They’re your kids.”
“As a priestess of Mythal I have had a hand in raising many children who came to our temple… but yes. Those two were special.”
“And now they’re here.”
“And now they’re here.”
“Well shit, that can’t be easy.”
Throughout the conversation Varric could see Ellana relax bit by bit, but now she almost slumped forward.
“It’s not. I was the one who volunteered to take this risk. To come to the Conclave. After everything happened, I understood that I needed to stay and help; I had accepted the dangers because I needed to. But they don’t have to be here. They can go home. Be safe.”
“You could tell them to leave.”
“They wouldn’t listen, and I’d probably offend them. As much as I worry, they are both extremely capable. I just wish Sahren would stop picking at Cassandra. She’s uncomfortable enough as is. And Mythal give me strength if Rasa tries to pickpocket Leliana one more time. The Nightingale might actually have them killed.”
“Or recruit them.”
That got a chuckle out of her. While Ellana made Varric some more tea he asked, “So, what’s the scariest thing right now? Other than the obvious possibility of death and dismemberment.”
“Well other than that.” Ellana handed him his tea, “I suppose it’s all the walking on egg shells. I’m not ashamed to talk about my people or my beliefs, as I suppose you’ve guessed by now.”
Varric nodded an affirmative as Ellana continued, “But I’m still so nervous constantly that if I don’t mix in the right amount of deferment, agree just enough that ‘sure, maybe your goddess sent me’ that they’d get a little too frustrated and…”
“They’re not going to kill you.”
Ellana sighed and her shoulders slumped, “I know, but you didn’t say it had to be a reasonable fear. I’ve seen what humans will do when elves get a little to elvhen for their tastes. It rarely ends well. I was talking to Josephine the other day and bless her she was trying to talk to me about my people and ask questions, but she had so many misconceptions drilled into her brain. Scary ones. Is it terrible that I don’t always want to have to be the perfect elf? Back home I am a leader among my people, but I’m a leader on my own terms. They know me, and I can be myself. I was the youngest priest in a very long time to be chosen as Raj’ha’haren, and that didn’t come without a lot of hard work. But does Cassandra care? Does Cullen? No. They’d rather I stayed quiet about the whole elf thing and focus only on the Breach. Afterwards they can look back on their elf friend and clap themselves on the back about how _tolerant_ they were with her.”
As she had been talking her voice had gotten louder and angrier. When she finished she realizer her volume and took a deep breath to compose herself. Varric could see her walls going back up as she said, “I apologize I shouldn’t have-”
“Bull shit you shouldn’t have. It’s okay to vent. It’s okay to be pissed about this whole situation. And I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and say that you shouldn’t worry and that you can be completely yourself, because you’re right, you can’t. But I will say I think you may be giving our compatriots too little credit. She may not seem like it, but I think Cassandra wouldn’t mind having an honest debate with you in your down time about religion. Maybe invite Mother Giselle and Josephine; it might be good for both of them. And don’t back down when they get frustrated, push through. You should also really introduce Sahren to Cullen because once they get past the obvious differences I really think those two would get along. And let me handle Rasa, they’re a decent thief, but they could be better.”
Ellana smiled at him. A real smile. Not one of the smiles she shot at refugees who thanked her that exuded benevolence. Not a small one while speaking to Cassandra that worked hard to present her as non-threatening. No, this smile was a little crooked and made her eyes crinkle just slightly. She finished her second cup of tea and said, “It makes sense that Rasa isn’t a decent thief, it’s not what they trained to be.” | dca9bda747c34b15a693def001eda7dd | ['af3478fe777142d98859cff9cd8a5128'] | The boss and Vivienne continued to argue, and The Iron Bull settled back into his saddle. This time Sera was offering the occasional comment, much to the annoyance of Viv. It wouldn’t matter though; nothing those two could say would change the boss’s mind. Wherever she had been trained in magic, The Iron Bull knew where she had been before. He wouldn’t wish slavery on his worst enemy.
It was in the little things. She always ate her fill at every meal, and while she was a natural caretaker, she was still often first in line. Deprivation has a tendency to make even the most compassionate people selfish. She never took more than her share, but she never took less either. She kept very few personal items, but the few baubles she did carry that meant something to her she always carried. Every time she left her hut or tent, they were tucked into little pockets in her clothing. They’d been bathing in a creek once and The Iron Bull had noticed even then she hadn’t taken off the talisman she wore around her neck. She didn’t trust anything she left anywhere alone to be there when she came back. He also saw the scar then too. It was less noticeable than it likely had been before she’d gotten her tattoos, but it was still there at the top of her left thigh. It was a brand. It had been marred by more cuts overtop, likely self-inflicted after her escape, but he could still see parts of the design beneath. It had healed well, and The Iron Bull suspected magic had been used to help it blend in so well, but it was there. The advanced healing made it harder for him to place exactly how old it was, but The Iron Bull would guess that it occurred when she was a young girl. The other tells gave the same indication. It doesn’t matter how old someone gets, the shit that happens when they’re young stays with them.
The rebel mages in Redcliffe had fought to escape their cages. The boss would never turn her back on them; no matter what lip service she gave Viv. No matter the danger helping them posed. The Iron Bull was going to have to get used to working with a lot of mages.
\------------
Fucking mages. Redcliffe had been a shit show. He’d laughed it off at the time, but all the mages under the control of an insane Tevinter magister fucking around with incredibly dangerous magic was one of the worst outcomes that could have happened. At least they weren’t all abominations. Yet.
At least there was more muscle with the group now. Blackwall seemed to be a decent sort, and he did a good job of distracting Sera from her growing panic at the mage situation. He put up a gruff front, but he was a softie. And a liar, but everyone was about something, and so far The Iron Bull didn’t pick up any signs he was the dangerous sort of liar. He’d tell Red if he decided otherwise. Still, he’d keep his eye on him.
Then there was the pretty Vint mage they’d met in Redcliffe. Too clever for his own damn good, The Iron Bull could already tell. At least the boss seemed just as uncomfortable around him as The Iron Bull, and he could be sure she’d be keeping a very wary eye on him. She’d been on edge since the moment she found out the Vints were there. The Iron Bull had watched her when she sat across the table from the magister. The boss was normally completely in control of her body language and expression, but he didn’t think she really breathed the entire time she sat there. Her face had stayed blank and her spine stayed straight. She did a good job masking her fear, but The Iron Bull saw it, and he was reasonably sure Alexius saw it too. That would make things difficult going forward. At least by the time they met the pretty Vint she had moved on from fear to anger. The Iron Bull half expected her to rip apart the Vint like she had the demons, but she’d kept her cool and he’d promised his help.
They were riding back to Haven now, this time Blackwall took the lead with Viv and the boss hung back by The Iron Bull. She was quiet, and anyone else might say she looked contemplative, like a leader going over the day’s events and planning for tomorrow. But The Iron Bull could see what it really was hanging on her shoulders, stress. An old stress. He remembered when Gatt came to serve with him on Seheron. Gatt had already done a lot work to work through his past, and The Iron Bull really thought he had been ready to face the Vints without his anger getting in the way. He was proven very wrong the first time they came across a Vint camp holding slaves. Gatt had gotten his hand on the Vint ‘managing’ the slaves, and The Iron Bull didn’t think the Vint’s mother would have recognized the poor bastard after Gatt was done. Gatt fought him on it, but The Iron Bull sent him back home after that. He still didn’t know if Gatt would ever really get past what happened to him when he was young.
He watched the boss now and realized that, while she put up a good front, she hadn’t move past it either. The Iron Bull was certain that the only thing she was thinking about with her blank face and stiff back was what she had experienced in Tevinter. He didn’t think anyone really moved on from something like that, you just learn how to live with it better.
“Bull.”
The boss’s voice pulled The Iron Bull from his thoughts, “Yeah boss, what’s up?”
“Would you do me a favor?” |
5303806ad3ab40739525ea0eb2d3f17f | ['af5245717b284cc28355c5458f62f0a5'] |
1. Chapter 1
Surprised to see me again? Good so am I! This came to me when I was bored, just wanted something to write and unwind after finals. By the time I realized what had happened..THIS was written.
As far as I know this might be the first crossover of this type to take place. Just don't expect it to get too deep into the lore or see your many of your favorite Animitronics. Anyway, lets get this thing rolling.
Calvin and Hobbes is owned by Bill Watterson.
Five Nights at Freddy's is the property of Scott Cawthon
If you like what you see/read then give me some feedback. It helps me with the story and lets me know what I can improve on.
\------------------------------------
Another day, another dollar, another hopeful day that he won't get home and discover that his son had trashed the house. This is the life that Calvin's dad lead. Truthfully his life was fairly mundane at this stage; he had a job, a nice house, a wife and son.
Though if there was one thing which the world had learned; Calvin was anything but mundane. But that was really the only thing that wasn't mundane about his life. He went to work and did his job without fuss. That was a lie, there was some fuss but he kept it to himself.
He did all that was in his power to try and keep things normal. But life would throw him yet another curve ball.
The phone ringing wasn't uncommon, but he sometimes wished the secretary wouldn't give him most of the calls. He picked up the phone and began in a cheery, yet somehow still stale voice,
"Good Morning, how may I help you?"
"Um Hello..is this the..hold on I had a business card somewhere." A voice came out the other end, clearly a man with a british accent. He seemed calm and collected, in spite of his words.
"Sir if you were going to call something besides a patent office, then I'm sorry but you've called-"
"Oh so this is the patent office. Well then I did call the right place." The man' quickly recovered himself. Too quick in Calvin's dad's opinion.
"Umm yes, is there something that I can help you with?"
"There is. I'm a bit of a robotics expert and I'm hoping to get my latest invention patented."
Why else would someone contact his office? Dad thought, leaning back in his chair. It was going to be yet another simple procedure. He'd half wondered why they didn't teach people this themselves...then realized it would mean he'd be out of a job.
"Alright, first can you tell me what exactly you're invention is?" He asked. "If I know exactly what it is, then that'll help me categorize it."
"Ah yes, it's a series of mechanics..like in the robots you see on stage at pizza places and places like that."
"Just what the world needs." Calvin's Dad mumbled,away from the phone, to himself. He wrote down the information and went back to the call.
"So what exactly does this invention do, is it some advanced version of those systems?"
"Much more, for you see...well it's a bit hard to explain."
"Well that doesn't help me out much with your information." Dad said, freezing as the words escaped his mouth. He almost expected the man to get angry, then lash out at him for saying that.
Yet he wasn't sure if the chuckle that escaped from the man's lips was better..or worse.
"It's alright, you do have a fair point with that, I'll do my best to describe it."
Despite the rest of the work he had to do, Dad let the man describe what he'd invited It had taken almost three fourths of an hour .but he'd finally gotten all the details.
What the man had described was something right of some computer game. A series of interlocking mechanisms that would be a regular robot; but when withdrawn would allow the person to wear the robots shell as a suit. It sounded deranged, but he could see the business aspect of it.
Even if the system was costly to manufacture, it would save money in the long run. Plush if the suits were outlined with the metal parts, it might save them from...accidents.
He shivered slightly, remembering when a man in a costume had startled Calvin at one of those places.
They had been forced to pay for the plate , repairs to the arcade machine, and a hospital bill.
Pushing those thoughts away and getting back to his work, he jotted down a couple last bits of information.
"Alright sir, it looks like I've got almost everything I need." he said. "I can submit your patent here or send it to you first."
The man on the other end chuckled. In spite of himself, and what he'd seen Calvin do, a chill ran up Dad's spine. He got a terrible feeling from this man all of a sudden. He put it aside as he spoke up again.
"Would it trouble you to send it?"
"Not at all sir. I just need your name." Dad said,. His hand shook now, but he forced it to be stable. All he needed was this man's name and then send it. Once that was done he never had to interact with him again.
"William Afton."
"Alright..how do you spell Aft...what?" He bit his tongue and cursed himself for asking. Another chuckle, and other shiver up the spine.
"You're not the first person to get my name wrong; and you certainly won't be the last."
That's not what I'm worried about. Dad thought as Afton spelled out his name for him. He signed it on the form before he looked back at the phone.
"Alright sir, I shall send this in and they will get back to you." He said, trying not to sound a bit rushed. | 99973165350746c2aa14529588a19143 | ['af5245717b284cc28355c5458f62f0a5'] | Had Calvin done the wrongdoing? He wouldn't put it past him. He glanced back at his son and spoke, the nervousness ebbing away at him.
"This is Calvin's father...I can get him if you like."
"Who?"
Dad blinked, and realized that the officer had no idea who Calvin was.. Though what the man said next did little to calm his nerves.
"You said you're the father, so you're the one who works at the patent offices of…" Clay trailed off once more, trying to find the name.
"Y-Yes I do...is something wrong officer?"
"Well yes actually; did you file a patent for William Afton a couple months ago?"
"Yes I did, is there something wrong with it?" BY now the nerves were chomping at the bit; so to speak. The bit being his brain and heart.
"Was there something wrong with the patent?"
"That's what we're hoping to find out, we'd like to clear you of any wrongdoing."
"Wrongdoing..me?" Dad asked. He almost bit his tongue for asking the question. He hoped that the reason Calvin was bad at saying that wasn't from him. The officer let out a "Hmm" before continuing.
"We'd like you to come down to our district to help us clear up this matter; see about four days ago, the devices you filled out the patent for failed while in use."
Dad dreaded the words that would come next. He knew that the devices were to be in mascot costumes; he just hoped that-
"The two operators of the suits were killed."
The hopes that whoever was inside the suits were alive was dashed. The phone went weak in his hand, he fumbled for a moment and grabbed it.
"What-what do you need me for?" Dad asked.
"We would like you to come down and give your side of the story, just to clear you of anything."
"Clear me, why would I need to be cleared?"
"Sir…." Clay stopped before letting out a sigh. " we want to make sure that you didn't knowingly submit a patent for a death trap."
Dad felt his heart go straight to his throat and stay there. His breath hitched and he felt himself shiver.
The rest of the conversation was brief, mercifully for him. CLay informed him that he'd call back to tell Dad when he was needed and hung up.
Dad stood there, shocked beyond measure; grasping the phone and shaking. He blinked a few times and glanced down. He hoped and quickly prayed, that just happened wasn't real. That he wasn't linked to the deaths of two people.
No matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, it didn't work. Remembering his family at the table, he quickly turned to walk back to them.
He took a few deep breaths and hoped that they wouldn't notice.
"Dear are you okay' you're pale as a ghost!" Mom exclaimed.
"He's been bitten by a vampire!" Calvin declared. "Get me some stake!"
Cleary today was not the day for him to hope. He stared at Calvin, who simply looked back, half expecting the infamous "evil eye."
"Calvin, go to your room, I and your mother need to have a talk."
"But I didn't even do anything!" Calvin said. Though he half wondered if somehow he'd been caught for something which had been done in the past.
"It's not about you but you have to go." Dad said, before pointing out the door. "Now!"
Normally, Calvin was one to argue; he'd raise his voice and if necessary, his fists to fight back. But a quick glare from his mother and another glance at his father told him that it was better to retreat and fight another day.
He got out of his chair and walked away grumbling, giving a few glares back for good measure. Once he was sure Calvin was gone, Dad sat back down before placing his head in his hands.
Mom was quick to go over to him. He glanced at her, and she gave him a small, but weary smile.
"So...what did you want to talk about?"
Dad looked back in the direction of the living room, spotting Calvin walking upstairs with Hobbes. He looked back at his wife of eight years before sighing. Once he was sure they were alone, he began his tale.
There's something very off about places meant for fun at night. Maybe it's because normally there is such an enthusiastic atmosphere; all the voices, the noise, and merriment, during the day that once in the absence it leaves a chill.
Fredbears Family Diner had been feeling that chill for the past couple of days now. Once the police had gotten what they needed, the place had been shut down. The establishments future to be determined in a trial.
Despite the absence of human life, activity still happened in the restaurant.
On stage stood two robotic animals, the same which had menaced Calvin on the TV. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie stood a silent vigil. Stains ran along their necks, arms, and legs, as though as if someone had dumped something onto them. Except they did it from the inside out.
A distinct clicking noise echoed out, as Spring Bonnie's ears flicked. Fredbears ears followed suit before he turned his head to face Spring Bonnie.
Spring Bonnie turned its head to meet its companions. Nothing powered them...at least nothing SHOULD have been powering them.
Spring Bonnie began to walk forward and stepped off the stage. It had been their nightly ritual since the "event." Since they had "awoken" within the suits that had caused their demise. Spring Bonnie made its way around the establishment. Searching for any signs of life besides their own. Always being careful, and keeping quiet in case it heard them. Once it was satisfied and retreated back to the stage, the two of them powered down for the night.
They would keep this up as long as necessary. Until those who had killed them got justice.; they would walk until they rusted.
Forever is a very long time when you're human. But Fredbear and Spring Bonnie were anything but human anymore.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> What did you think you were playing in the shadows of your mind? What is it you think you see, from the signs in your mind? -DA Games March Onward to your Nightmare.
>
> Except a LOT more to come in the following chapters. Till then!
>
> If you liked this story or have any questions, comments, or criticisms don't be afraid to let me know in a review/comment! |
4521dc07a2e74bfb9d9ef32d4651efb5 | ['af62e89646bf46ed85f5b350d6e7504e'] | She rounded the corner and smiled gratefully at them both. Mako knew it wasn’t the kind of smile he wanted, but it was all she was going to give him now.
“How’s my little girl?” drawled that low, familiar voice behind her. Mako grimaced, then rose from his seat to greet her parents, little Lin nestled snuggly in his arms.
“Shhhhh,” Mako hissed trying not to frown more than usual. _This guy…_ “She just fell asleep.”
Tahno ignored him, and snaked his hands around little Lin’s body. “ _You_ want to know how Auntie Bei Fong is, don’t you, Lin-Lin?”
The girl began to protest, whining as she was roused from her slumber. Lin peeked through sleepy lids and instantly brightened. She caught sight of her father and she raised her arms to him. Mako was forced to let her go as Tahno swooped her up, then held her close and he tapped her nose with his one long index finger. He rocked her slowly and she didn’t make another sound.
Mako turned away, the ache in his chest growing even further.
“Thank you for doing this for us,” Korra said coming beside Tahno. “Bei Fong—” Her eyes widened as she noticed the red bow in Lin’s hair. She touched it gingerly, almost reverently as she gave Mako a questioning look.
Mako’s hand went for the empty spot on his jacket and shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. G’night.”
“Yeah, good night. Remember, we’re having tea with Jinora tomorrow.”
“I’ll be sure to be there.” Mako smiled before he turned and left. Korra returned it, though half-hearted as it was. She knew his hurt. Korra had always known. Mako hated how transparent he was around her, but it was something they never talked about anymore. Something taboo, yet raw. A wound that never healed. And now, after seeing little Lin and how consumed Tahno was by his love for her, there was nothing Mako could ever do about it again.
It would just have to fester.
_She could have been yours_ , Mako thought as he shut the door behind him, remembering nothing but cerulean eyes. One pair was young, bright and curious. The other…they were fiery, strong, and once loved only him. Leaning heavily against the door, Mako exhaled a shaking breath as his throat began to tighten.
_I could’ve had a girl with cerulean eyes…_ | bd5b03863f304c81a14df60260c3153b | ['af62e89646bf46ed85f5b350d6e7504e'] | Yuri reaches out, fingers hooking into his belt, and the dark-haired man draws near, taking Yuri’s face in his hand. When their lips meets, Yuri sighs into the kiss, hungry and tasting as if he were afraid this dream would end far, far too soon. Yuuri feels him melt into it, and he smiles, bringing light and joy to his face as the blond nips at his bottom lip, sending a rush through them both. The air was filled with the melody of their panting and Yuri’s arousal grew further, hardening him, causing his hips to rock and shift against the silver-haired skater. Viktor most certainly takes notice.
“This is what you want?” Viktor rumbles, and Yuri can practically hear the smile in his voice.
“Ah, y….yes, Daddy.”
Instantly, Viktor freezes. He pulls back, speechless and searching Yuri’s face with wide eyes.
Yuri quickly realizes what he’s said, how it sounds, and is surprised to find he meant it completely. He looks away, hoping his blush isn’t too obvious. “What? That's what Yuuri calls you. It's even in his phone.”
Viktor hears the small pout in his voice, and his eyes playfully slide to the dark-haired man. Yuuri decidedly avoids the look as he pushes up his glasses. “...Yuuri. Is that why you rushed me off the phone earlier? Why he ran in here when he saw us? You were teasing him.”
“Uhm...well, I …” Yuuri stammered as his shoulders tighten and his eyes refocus. A certain roundness returns to his face along with that adorable tinge of pink. Yuri watched the change, watched it remake him almost anew. The hunger was still there in his eyes, but it was softer, mixed with the sort of boyish charm he had that just made Yuri want to _tease_.
“It's true, Viktor,” Yuri says in his most breathy, defenseless voice. He curls into him and smirked at Yuuri from the safety of Viktor’s arms. Yuuri gapes, wide-eyed and caught off guard. “It was awful.”
“...Is that true, Yuuri? Did you tease him?”
“I... well, I… Okay, yes, but only a little, I promise! It's wasn't nearly as bad as he's making it sound."
“You were _supposed_ to wait from me, love. Come here.”
Yuuri fidgets where he stands, and Yuri _loves_ watching him squirm.
“I said, come here.”
Yuuri shuffles over, shoulders hunched, eyes averted and his blush rising up to his ears. Yuri watches with fascination. He'd never seen him so meek, and it only stirred his desire more.
“Why didn't you wait for me? You know better.”
“I was just having a little fun,” he whines looking away. “I didn't think it was so bad.” Viktor frowns, saying nothing as the silence stretches for one moment, then another. Eventually, Yuuri looks up through his eyelashes. “I'm sorry, Daddy.”
“It's alright.” Viktor kisses the top of his head, and Yuuri visibly relaxes. “If you wish to tease him, you may. But as punishment, no one is allowed to pleasure you. Not even yourself.”
Yuri snaps to attention, mouth hanging open. “No one?!”
“No one,” Viktor repeats. Yuri gaped at Yuuri, but he doesn't look as disappointed as he thought he would. In fact, when Viktor looked away, he almost seemed pleased.
_What? Why?_
“And you.” Viktor extracts himself from the blond, and Yuri feels that smugness drain away instantly. “You're being naughty again.”
“But…” _Daddy_. Yuri shaped his mouth to try saying it again, and _mean_ it, but the word gets caught on his tongue, feeling awkward and heavy as he stammers. How was Yuuri able to say it so easily? He abandons the attempt. “So what? You gonna ‘punish’ me too?”
Viktor raises an eyebrow at the challenge. “I can, if you wish. But do you know what that means?” Viktor leans close to nuzzle his ear with his nose, landing a kiss on Yuri just above his jaw.
The blond strokes Yuuri’s cheek who leans into the touch. “I...have an idea.”
“No,” Yuuri says gently. He takes Yuri’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “You have to say it. Do you know what that means?"
Yuri nods, bashful. “It means I’d get to be yours.” He glances at the silver-haired love of his life and his face blooms with heat. “Both of yours.”
“And,” Viktor adds, “it means that you trust me, trust us. Is that what you want?”
_I want all of you. Both of you. Always._ But Yuri can't bring himself to voice that. He did still have his pride to consider, after all. Instead, he opts for a quiet, “Yes.”
Then Viktor’s lips are hard against his. It was exactly the kind of kiss that stole Yuri’s breath and weakened his knees. Trembling, Yuri tried to keep pace, tried to prevent himself from being consumed by the ferocity of Viktor’s need. He wasn't used to this feeling, this...powerlessness? No, that wasn't it.
This vulnerability.
It was the first time he felt small in Viktor’s arms, and he was surprised by his resistance to it. Viktor feels him recoil slightly and eases back, slowing their pace to whisper against his lips. “Trust me, Yura.”
Yuri's breath hitches at the familiar form of his name, his head swimming. Is...this how Yuuri felt every time Viktor touched him? Kissed him? No wonder he always looked so entranced. Yuri bites his lips for only a moment before he opens them up to grant Viktor entrance. He deepens the kiss as Yuri moans in Viktor’s mouth, allows himself to be consumed. Feeling him harden, Yuri grinds against his hips, and Viktor sucks in a breath.
“ _God_ , Yura,” the silver-haired skater whispers as he rest his forehead against his, looking into his eyes. Viktor is flushed, and Yuri can hear his calm unraveling in the slight tremor of his voice. “Ready?”
Yuri swallows, panting, and nods. |
3b862cd6a864485293172761f10e1b7c | ['af73c3f0bf574fa5a00436192a49b71c'] | “And welcome to the most horrifying thing about this office,” says Pepper, as Tony and Clint bicker, “which is that we actually have to talk about things like that. Like, as a job.”
“Well, that’s it, then,” says Phil, and he turns to Steve. “Congratulations.”
Steve is a little off-balance. “What?”
“You’re hired,” says Phil. “You can start in two weeks. Pepper will send you the paperwork. Health insurance, all that.”
Steve blinks, again. “Wait,” he says, “don’t you have more interviews to do? Don’t you need time to consider?”
Tony and Clint and Pepper are watching. As is another red-headed woman, up above, at the top of the stairs, leaning on the rail.
Coulson shakes his head. “Knew you were the real deal,” he says. “We got 27 applicants for this job. I only scheduled one interview.”
Steve is – staggered. Flummoxed. His ghast is flabbered.
“I don’t like him,” announces Tony. “Too pretty.”
“He needs a suit-shopping consultation,” says Coulson.
Tony appears immediately at Steve’s elbow, apparently without traversing the intervening distance. “Hey, buddy,” he says, “welcome aboard! – Oh, wow, _damn._ ”
His hand is on Steve’s arm. Bicep area.
“What?” asks Steve.
“Hell-oooo Dolly, you are packing some guns under there,” says Tony. “What are you made of, solid iron? We are going to need a tailor.”
Steve flushes.
“What’s your budget?” continues Tony.
“Um,” says Steve. “A few hundred dollars?”
“Five thousand,” counters Tony, like they’re in the middle of a negotiation.
Steve actually has plenty of savings; he didn’t do much spending overseas. But he sees the game, now. “One thousand,” he says. “Can’t go above that.”
“Four thousand?”
“I really don’t need your help.”
“Thirty-five hundred, and that’s my final offer!”
“No,” says Steve, firmly.
“Three thousand.”
“Two thousand,” he allows.
“Twenty-five hundred it is,” agrees Tony, blithely. “Drinks on the new guy, tonight.”
\--
“He’s just worried he won’t be the prettiest anymore,” confides Pepper, a glass of wine in her hand, about six hours later.
“Didn’t we already go through that with Wanda?” asks Clint.
“Yes,” says Pepper. “Yes, we did.”
“It’s okay, Tony,” says Clint, “you’ll always win ‘best dressed’.”
“Great,” drawls Tony, “good to know, glad I’m a troll with great taste in suits.”
Steve’s head is still spinning, and he has three large bags resting on the ground next to the armchair. Tony took them both to the bar after the shopping was done, apparently following up on his general invitation from earlier.
The shopping. That definitely wasn’t just a _consultation_ ; Tony had gone all-out.
“Blue is your friend,” he’d said, “and you can go light, doesn’t just have to be navy – here, right on the edge between navy and royal blue, that’s perfect, and you’ll want charcoal, too. Not black, black is for funerals and not-so-secret secret agents.”
“Coulson’s suit was black,” Steve had pointed out.
“Yeah, and you see what it did?” asked Tony. “Half your brain tells you that’s the most boring white guy in the universe, the other half says _danger, danger, Secret Service_ , and suddenly all of you is perked up and listening.”
Steve’d had to admit that was true, and during his pause to think about it, Tony stacked four Brooks Brothers suit variations in his arms.
“Go try those,” he said. “Doesn’t have to fit all the way through, just find one that goes over your shoulders. Tailor will fix the rest.”
“That’ll be a little pricey, won’t it?”
“You’d be surprised.” Tony gave him a gentle shove towards the dressing rooms. “Go on, little caterpillar. Coccoon yourself into a beautiful civilian butterfly, while I find you some pocket squares.”
And now they’re here, in the bar a few doors down from the office.
(“Bar, candy store, burgers, free lawyers, coffee, wine,” Clint had said, pointing at each store in turn. “Our shopping center has everything!”)
The bar is a quiet, friendly one, heavier on conversation than music. There’s an entire area around a dartboard, with a couple high tables, a couple more cushy armchairs. This seems to be The Spot; Pepper herds Steve to one of the armchairs, and claims a seat at one of the high tables; Tony and Clint collect a handful of darts from behind the bar and serve themselves, a process that the bartender doesn’t seem too concerned about. Clint proceeds to play an unbelievable game of darts, giving Tony a thorough drubbing. Tony laughs about it, easy and casual leaned against the empty armchair. With that ego, Steve would have expected him to be a sore loser.
Tony’s announcement, earlier, seems to have served as an open invitation to the bar. Over time, a handful of others show up: the redhead from upstairs, who is introduced as Natasha. Her gaze is as sharp as Coulson’s, and she jumps straight to the top of Steve’s omnipresent list of the most dangerous people in any given room. With her is an _incredibly_ Scandinavian man, square-jawed and at _least_ as iron-bicep’d as Steve is. This is _Thor_ , apparently, because _of course it is._
“He’s our investigator. Handsome,” says Tony, “can bench-press six Jeeps, but dumb as rocks.”
“He went to Yale,” Natasha points out.
“ _Like I said._ ” Tony takes a long drink of beer. “Dumb as rocks.”
Which is how Steve learns that Tony has an engineering degree from MIT, and this finally makes something click in his hindbrain. “Tony Stark,” he says. “Stark Industries, right? We used a lot of that tech overseas. MRAPs, right?”
Tony’s expression turns sour. “I bet,” is all he says, and he makes an abrupt about-face, apparently eager to get destroyed at darts again.
Pepper touches Steve’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” she says, quietly. “You didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
In brief: that Stark Industries got stolen right out from under the heir to Howard Stark, and that he was sued within an inch of his life. | 0b5bf0ecb9b94faf8667a8259f2a7163 | ['af73c3f0bf574fa5a00436192a49b71c'] | He finds a handful of medical records, stapled together. (Can’t help but think – if this were a private law firm, there would be boxes and boxes of them.) Four pages, front and back; a report prepared by a doctor, for social services, about the defendant. His IQ was 59, said the report; he fell into a range of mild to moderate mental retardation. Incapable of working most jobs. Difficulty understanding complicated proceedings.
He goes over to the police report, which is written out in Wanda’s perfect, slanted handwriting. It says the _fraud_ part of the welfare fraud consists of a failure to check a box saying his uncle, whom he lives with, was convicted of felony drug possession in 1987. Each of the five counts of fraud is for a six-month period – one for each signed application for benefits.
Steve curses, softly.
He looks up and sees Wanda, at the foot of the stairs. Doesn’t know what to say, for a long moment, but her expression isn’t accusing. Just empty.
“This is it?” he asks.
“Yes,” she tells him. “That’s it.”
After she’s gone for the day – early, and no one makes a fuss, which Steve appreciates for her –
“Sometimes, the days are rough,” says Phil.
Steve can see that. But it’s – it’s a _clean_ kind of rough. He can see Wanda did her best on the case, with the time and resources she had. He doesn’t think her tears were guilt. They were anger, and grief. He’s fighting the urge to send a prosecutor through one of the flimsy courthouse walls, too.
Feels better than hating yourself at the end of the day, he thinks.
“The prosecutor in that case was Loki,” and Phil’s voice is low, when he says that. Makes something strange twist in the pit of Steve’s stomach. “He’s Thor’s brother. It’s a sensitive subject.”
Just a warning, Steve reminds himself. Just one colleague to another, and fair warning.
“Thanks,” he manages.
\--
Another brutal eye-opener when Wanda takes him along to get discovery about an upcoming case.
“They don’t send it over?” asks Steve, taking the steps up to the courthouse door two at a time. The public defenders are a block over; the prosecutors are inside the courthouse. In other circumstances, he might have resented that privilege, but this courthouse is a _serious_ piece of shit. Like someone took a high school and a jail, and squished them into a building 2/3 too small, and then abandoned it for ten years before re-opening. There’s filth in all the corners, and the downstairs courtrooms smell _foul_ unless the temperature’s set somewhere between ‘cool’ and ‘literally breathing frost’.
“Too lazy,” says Wanda. “You know what we get?”
Her accent, slight but lovely, still catches his attention. Is it Russian? Certainly Eastern European. “Can’t remember if that was on the bar,” he says.
“Defendant’s statements,” she says, “defendant’s criminal record, and scientific reports.”
And they enter, passing through the metal detector awkwardly shoved into place at the bottom of a stairwell, probably some time after 9/11. The detector shrieks with dismay after each of them passes through, but the deputies don’t give either of them a second glance. They know Wanda; they’re already used to Steve.
“What about Brady?” The Supreme Court case, he means, where the justices decided that a defendant has a constitutional right to hear about exculpatory evidence. Because apparently someone needed to say that.
“Who gets to decide what is Brady information?” she asks. And she nods at the logo outside the prosecution’s offices.
“They do,” sighs Steve. Of course.
“But, we are lucky,” she tells him. “This jurisdiction, and the cities, they have ‘open file’ policy. We can come in and look through everything, except work product.”
“Why do they do that?” Steve asks.
“We can’t photocopy anything,” she says, “including things we’re entitled to, for it. And it means they don’t have to take the time to take out all the information we should get and only give us that.”
“So, lazy,” echoes Steve. “Like you said.”
She shrugs a yes. Knocks on a window, and waves to someone inside. A buzzer sounds; she pushes open the door to the prosecutor’s offices.
“If you can’t photocopy… guess that’s why you told me to bring a legal pad.”
“He might wear a uniform, but he’s not stupid,” she says. She hands him one file, and takes another.
Steve starts writing down everything important he can find.
\--
So here’s how the schedule works, explains Tony, one time.
(Steve is not really listening during most of this; his pencil’s wandering across the legal pad, sketching shadows and slashing the sharp lines of Tony’s elbow, goatee, suit jacket. But this is the gist that he understands, later.)
The court doesn’t give a damn about the public defenders. It schedules everything to the convenience of the Carlton County _deputies_ , and the state troopers, and the city police departments.
Each officer has their regular, monthly court date. Every arrest, every speeding ticket, every investigation and domestic call and K9 dog sniff and what-have-you comes to court on _those days_.
If the case is scheduled to come to court on a day you’re scheduled to be in court, congratulations: it’s yours.
And from there, each of the four jurisdictions covered by the office (the large Carlton County, the mostly-empty Bridgewater County, and the two cities of Stand and Axeborough) goes a little differently, but the average is something like this:
9-10AM: Traffic tickets. The courtroom is crowded with people of every stripe and creed. Probably disproportionately black.
10AMish: The lawyers start filing in. Misdemeanor criminal cases start.
12PM: Everyone is irritated that court hasn’t ended on time to take lunch.
1-1:30PM: One shift of lawyers switches out for another. The judge takes a short break to urinate and fuel up.
1:30PM: The 1PM docket starts. More traffic tickets. |
f0968caa5b244910a5acf4e2e85e073a | ['af79d6cb3539439eacf3049d689506b5'] |
1. Chapter 1
The words on the page danced and hummed a familiar lullaby. The pages turned with a soft swish, his finger pressed to his lip in concentration. Chase knew how to dive into a piece of literature like it was his second home, the reality around him drowning out. Thomas Hardy knew how to give him a challenge for his finals, as per usual, and he needed the entirety of a 300 page book vaguely memorized, decoded and practically torn apart with literary analysis in order to perform decently on his test. Not that Hardy was a difficult author, one Chase was rather quite familiar with, although was proven to be quite difficult to write about given the extent of his novels being written in multiple editions.
It wasn't until Chase was tapping his pen feverishly against his notebook in frustration did he realize he no longer could continue his studying for the night. He re-read the book countless times, leaving more than enough margin notes to make the text almost incomprehensible, in which he wondered how he was able to get through it after the first several times. Sighing in discontent, he dropped the pen to his notebook and rubbed his hand over his face, meeting his fingers at the bridge of his nose. His wrist watch read 9:30pm, much later than he anticipated, and was surprised to hear a knock at his offices door. He turned his head up to the noise with raised eyebrows, surprised to see his boss, although on some occasions he was more than just that, standing in the doorway dressed in semi-formal attire.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Tony well groomed and manicured for the nights events. The majority of the time, Chase saw him wearing the same shirt and jeans for days on end before JARVIS reminded him it was unsanitary to continue such habits. And although most of his life was spent going to black tie events, it wasn't like Chase to see Tony to them. So the sudden change in appearance often came as a surprise.
"What are you still doing here? I thought you were suppose to arrive at the gala a half hour ago?" Chase questioned, his brows furrowing. He glanced at his watch once more to see if he had the correct time. Tony shrugged in his signature nonchalant way, leaning against the door frame.
"In all honesty, I was finding an excuse not to go," Tony stated casually, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I was on my way out when I noticed you were still here." Chase met Tony's gaze and instantly knew what was running through his mind. They didn't spend all those months getting ... /familiar/ with each other during after hours for Chase to be blinded by Tony's ever so present wall he surrounded himself with. No, he definitely knew how to read Tony's mind, his very indistinct body language that was quite often misinterpreted by his peers.
Chase straightened his shoulders, placing a bookmark in between the open pages of his book and closed it with a /thud/. Slowly, he licked his lips, his pulse beating rapidly in his ears. He knew Tony hated when he teased him with simple gestures and couldn't help but find them so natural, that he constantly forgot that they drove him crazy. In response, he nipped at his bottom lip, resting his arms softly on the arm rests on either side of his chair.
"And you figured I'd so easily allow you to pass up at opportunity like the one tonight at the gala without hesitation?" Chase pestered, prolonging their conversation to see if Tony would make the first move like he usually did in the game they played so diligently. Of course, Tony knew the game he was playing, and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. He wasn't going to be the instigator of their feverish night this time.
"You've done it so many times before." And at that, Chase felt his chest tighten with the memory, his breath haggard. Several moments of silence lingered between them and Chase nodded, carefully pushing himself up out of his chair. He stepped around his desk and met Tony at the door, fingering one of the lapels on his blazer that he left unbuttoned, which Chase assumed he did on purpose.
Tony's cologne flooded his nostrils and he realized, that along with his favourite blazer, it was the cologne that Chase adored, making him lightheaded. And Tony knew that; he wore these things on purpose. Chase assumed he had planned this all afternoon. Dropping his hand from the blazer, he took a deep breath and quickly glanced out into the hallway, grateful that no other employees stayed passed 8 in the evening. Tony was testing him, purposefully building him up.
He glanced towards Tony, who winked and attempted to hide the grin that so foolishly sat on his lips. He looped a finger in the belt loop of Tony's slacks and tugged, coaxing him inside. Giving one more glance over in the hallway, he hurriedly shut the door behind him and locked it in hopes it would keep unwanted visitors away.
He guided Tony to the center of the room and kept very little distance between them, their bodies barely touching. Tony's breath rolled over his face, smelling of spearmint gum, all too suddenly his uneven breathing matching with Chase. With half lidded eyes, Chase met his gaze through his lashes, gently resting his hands on Tony's lovehandles.
"Do you know how long you've kept me waiting?" Chase felt his stomach twist, the waist of his jeans all too suddenly getting tighter, which Tony happily responded to. Before his hand could reach Chases belt, Chase grabbed his wrist and tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. | c5724d465c504b40b81b4fdcd52ed7c8 | ['af79d6cb3539439eacf3049d689506b5'] | “You drive me absolutely crazy, Mr. Stark,” Chase purred, replacing Tonys hand with his own as he teased Tony through his slacks, watching him squirm and lift his hips, aching for release. Chuckling, Chase retuned to the other side of his desk, setting the items down next to Tony.
Spreading Tonys knees, Chase unbuttoned and unzipped the slacks that restricted him and fiercely pulled them off and tossed them to the side, his eyes glued to the penis that twitched with every slight touch. Kneeling, Chase hooked his pointer fingers in the waist band of Tonys boxer-briefs and pulled down, snapping it just below his balls.
Chases pupils dilated with lust as he grasped Tonys length, pumping lazily a few times before licking the head, the slit already wet with pre-cum. Tony groaned animalisticly, a sound erupting deep in his chest. In response, Chase wrapped his lips around the tip and pushed Tonys length into his mouth, tapping the back of his throat. He felt Tony shiver, leaning back on his elbows to give Chase better access. Slowly, Chase mouth fucked Tony, using his tongue to tease the tip of his penis.
He glanced up at Tony, his mouth parted and head tossed back, his hands clenched into fists, moaning cuss words to show his satisfaction. Chase gripped Tonys thigh and squeezed, grabbing his attention, and met his gaze as he slowly moved up and down Tonys shaft. In response, Tony ran a hand through Chases messy hair and gripped at the nape of his neck. With his other hand, Chase rested it on Tonys wrist and leaned into his touch as best he could.
With a few more dips of his head, he removed Tony from his mouth and wiped the saliva from his swollen lips with the back of his hand, catching his breath. Taking a few moments to recollect himself, Chase stood and leaned over Tony, hands on either side of his waist. Tony, who's breath was haggard and had a thin layer of sweat already coating his forehead, brushed his thumb across Chases red, plump bottom lip, and Chase couldn’t help but flick his tongue across the tip of his finger, closing his eyes and he took Tonys thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He heard Tony hiss and he gently bit the pad of his thumb in response.
“You’re so good at this, you know that?” Tony purred, pulling his thumb from Chases mouth and plastered their lips together. Chases face beamed and flushed as he pulled away from the kiss, removing Tonys underwear the rest of the way and letting them drop to the floor.
He did the same with his boxers, hesitantly pulling at the elastic waistband before letting them pool at his feet. He watched Tonys eyes widen with pleasure, always so satisfied with him, although Chase had difficulty seeing how. He gasped and threw his head back as Tony wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, taking his length into his hand and slowly jerked him off, spanking him. Chase dug his nails down Tonys chest, avoiding the arc reactor, leaving faint scratches on the skin.
“Tony, no…” Chase detested, dipping his face into Tonys neck while going no further as to stop him. “I want to be inside you,” Chase begged, the warmth of his breath rolling over Tonys neck. He felt Tony nod but neglected to stop, using the small opportunity to exercise his dominance for just a little longer. Chase felt himself melt into Tonys embrace before removing his hand and pinning his wrists behind his back.
“You don’t get to do that today,” Chase breathed, a smirk tainting Tonys face. In response, he spread his knees wider, allowing Chase to toy with him before entering.
Grabbing the lube from beside Tony, he put a generous amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together before finding Tonys hole and sliding in a finger, slowly getting him acclimated. After several moments, he added a second finger and scissored Tony, feeling his breath shake as he bit into the sensitive skin on Chases shoulder. Chase moaned and with the opposite hand, he rubbed the remaining lube over his cock. With his fingers inside Tony, he pushed them in and out slowly several times, getting Tony accommodated for his length.
Taking a deep breath, he removed his fingers from Tonys hole when he was satisfied and grabbed his thighs, keeping them spread apart. He positioned Tony closer to the edge of the desk, glancing up to meet his gaze. He raised a brow and saw a flash of hesitation in Tonys eyes, but it was gone as soon as he noticed.
“I’ve got you,” Chase whispered, laying a passionate kiss to his lips before gripping Tonys hips and positioning himself at the opening. Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his full length into Tony and his eyes rolled into back, the tightness unfamiliar to him.
“Oh, /fuck/ Tony, you’re so goddamn tight,” Chase groaned between gritted teeth, holding himself still with his head tilted back. He felt Tony dig his nails into his lovehandles, his breaths short; panting. Slowly, he pulled himself out and back in as Tony laid back, propping an arm behind his head. Chase pulled Tonys knee up to his waist, wrapping his leg around him. A loan groan erupted from Tonys throat as he arched his back, gasping.
“Chase,” Tony gasped, gripping the edge of the desk as Chase thrusted deep and hard inside him. The sound of his name escaping Tony’s lips heightened his sensitivity, sending shivers down his spine. “Fuck, I should have let you do this sooner.” Tonys groaned, deep in his throat. Chase gripped the hair at the nape of Tonys neck and pulled him upward, pushing their mouths together so he could bite his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. |
2628f96b45e84d4bac1e70de7eb906df | ['afa64df026d8450a8312100a7b445c10'] | oh, sing to me of loss
**Author's Note:**
> i think i'm the only one to have written something for this pairing? wild.
> anyway this is vague and weird but i like it
>
> title from wilsen's _final_
it feels as if nienna was born already mourning, from the instant she took up her song. even when she did not know of what she sang, she sang sadness and pity and grief, an endless stream of tears for something that did not yet exist.
it is only when she settles into valinor, watches yavanna sing into existence the trees and flowers and animals, that she realizes what she mourns for. so she stays with yavanna under the light of her trees for a long while, learning everything of the world she has to teach, simultaneously mourning less and more for the knowledge of how wonderful life can be.
but eventually she tires of yavanna, who does not understand why she grieves and who tires in turn of trying to, and so she leaves the trees. she goes to the gardens, where estë and her spouse offer her a soft seat of moss and a silent comfort.
_rest,_ estë says, and nienna tells her of all the terrible things she sees, all of the pain and death she cries for. estë does not try to stop her mourning, merely waits and listens until nienna finally runs out of things to say. _i understand,_ estë says, _and though the pain of the world is yet unceasing, let yourself be soothed._
nienna lets herself rest, lays her head on estë's bosom, and when estë retires for the day, she follows her and offers herself. _take my pain,_ she says, _and make it beautiful for a while._ estë smiles, and tucks a strand of hair behind nienna's ear, and leans in.
nienna learned beauty from yavanna, but it is from estë that she learns peace. | 1e1c8d83cb84407cb8ecaadef06e0911 | ['afa64df026d8450a8312100a7b445c10'] | not gonna die alone (i don't think so)
**Author's Note:**
> soulmate femslash au! this is my first work (and it's ironically in a fandom i'm not very invested in) so feedback is welcomed and adored. ~~please don't hate me~~
> if people wanted I could do a companion from Q's pov? idk though, so just message me if you want it.
>
> i'm very sorry for making you read this.
>
> oh! the title comes from _putting the dog to sleep_ by the antlers, which I highly recommend
In the books, you _know_ when you find your soulmate. The world dims or sharpens, and you hear your heartbeat change to match theirs. It is somehow never a mystery.
In the real world, though, you don’t. It’s a handshake, or a brush in the crowd (or sometimes a fist on flesh and a bruise that aches for days). Most people find them, eventually. Some never know.
-
It’s a survival mechanism, people claim. Others say it’s a gift from god. Some hiss and spit in the shadows and say, _it’s a curse, you find them but it only leads to pain._ Though the government is supposed to stay out of it, these people do not live long.
-
There are people who want to see the end of the soulmate bond. There are people who want fiercely to protect it. Often, Jaime finds, they are as alike as siblings.
Often, she finds, the grey area is larger than the black-and-white; the soulmate system is sloppy and haphazard, and many times it does more harm than good. Sometimes she wonders if it does enough good to make up for it.
-
She finds herself surrounded by people willing to fight for the bond. _Wouldn’t you want to protect yours_ , they ask, and then glance at her sideways. _If you had him._ She shrugs and accepts the offer they make, and wonders if it’s all it’s cracked up to be. After all, none of her colleagues have theirs.
-
They bring her in, and they bring her back out. She doesn’t ask for names or locations, as she knows others are prone to. She does not want to know, if that building she just blew up housed a family, if that man she just shot has a wife somewhere (if she’s crying or if she’s bleeding). It’s better not to know.
-
In a small, dark room in an unknown location, she screams and writhes and is suddenly glad that she never found hers.
-
They have tired of her screaming and writhing with no results, and she is not surprised when they arrange an execution. She walks out with her head held as high as her abused muscles can make it.
-
No one is more surprised than her when the kill shot goes wide and a body beside her thumps to the ground. Still prepared to die, she does not notice when she shakes the hand of the young, thin, dark-haired girl who saved her. Still prepared to die, she does not notice her sudden wince of pain.
-
She goes to see the girl who saved her. She’s (too) young and (too) thin and walks with a little bit of a limp. It matches the one Jaime carries, from when someone sliced her tendon (in a small, dark room) on a mission. She works in the tech department, and part of Jaime screams that she shouldn’t have been in the field, what were they thinking letting her out there.
Her name is unknown, but they call her Q.
-
Q is not as fragile as she seems, but there is still part of Jaime that rebels at the thought of her getting hurt. She is still on medical leave, and she spends more and more time in Q-branch and less and less time in her own (small, dark) flat. Every time Q looks up with that tiny smile reserved just for her and a murmured _007_ on her lips, she wants to make sure nothing can ever hurt her. Not even Jaime.
She is careful never to touch her.
-
It seems inevitable, but no one is as surprised as her when she comes back from a mission to find someone other than Q in Q’s office. _Don’t know what happened,_ they say, and then glance at her sideways. _She just started bleeding._ Jaime rubs at her own still-bleeding bullet wound, and goes to medical.
-
Q looks younger and thinner than ever in a hospital bed, surrounded by stark white sheets. Jaime sits gently on the side and asks, ( _how long have you known_ ) ”Do you want some more tea?” and Q laughs and says, “Always.” |
1b16448b034f4bd48a73e8c04b5206ee | ['afa760ba49e34dc29a132121f55d88cb'] | Instead, he wordlessly stepped to the side to give James access to the sink.
“I see Sam’s knocked out cold,” James commented as he searched the cabinet below the sink. “Natasha’s the same. Chasing Garrett must’ve been a real workout.”
“Guess so,” Steve simply replied as he dried off his face and hands.
James pulled out a first aid kit from the cabinet and set it on the counter. “Not like we didn’t see our fair share of action though,” he continued, but unlike before, James didn’t sound too angry about it.
He opened the kit and rummaged through it until he found a bandage roll and some disinfectant.
“Need help with that?” Steve offered. He knew from first-hand experience that it was nearly impossible to bandage an arm singlehandedly.
James looked to him, shrugged, and then handed him the supplies. As Steve took them, James started to remove his old bandages on his own, but Steve quickly batted his hand out of the way.
“Seriously?” James argued. “I can at least do this on my own.”
“Sure, but you don’t have to,” Steve replied as he undid the bandages. “Besides, it was my fault you got shot, as you like reminding me. This is the least I can do.”
James was silent for a while as he stared at his feet. “For the record, I don’t blame you for that, okay? It’s just that… I like having a plan before I go into a situation like that. So when you just stormed in… well, I figured it had to be your fault.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Honestly, Ward would’ve done the same thing if we had backup. More people might’ve gotten hurt for all we know.”
“Maybe not,” Steve countered. “And maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.”
“Steve,” James saying, turning to Steve and pulling his injured arm away in the process. “Can you just shut up for one second? I’m trying to apologize here.”
Steve blinked at him, not fully comprehending what James was saying. “What…?”
James sighed. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay? For blowing up at you earlier and for all those things I said… and for, you know, punching you.”
Honestly, with the whole mess that Ward and Garrett made, Steve almost forgot about what happened at the warehouse.
“Thanks,” Steve replied. “And I’m sorry too. For… everything that happened today. And yesterday. Since I met you, I guess.”
James grinned at that, a tired but cocky one. “Damn right.” He turned back around so Steve could finish taking off the bandages.
Once Steve cleaned and re-bandaged James’s injury, James insisted on returning the favor with the cut on Steve’s forehead. It was a small scratch, really, but James was adamant. He basically forced Steve to sit on the edge of the bathtub so he could help.
“A small scratch?” he asked incredulously as he cleaned the injury. “Really? Do all small scratches need stitches?”
“It’s like two stitches,” Steve said. He had his eyes closed while James worked so close to them, but he could picture the man’s exasperated facial expressions from the sound of his voice. “It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, and it’s getting infected,” James replied unimpressed. “Sounds like it already infected that brain of yours because you’re obviously lacking common sense.”
Steve smiled. “I thought I didn’t have any to begin with?”
“That’s true.”
Once all injuries were taken care of, it was finally time to go to bed. James wearily trudged to his bedroom while Steve flopped back onto the couch. He was exhausted, of course, but he didn’t think he could fall asleep. Not with them being so close to catching his dad’s killer…
And what if something went wrong? What if Garrett managed to escape? Or maybe… what if he didn’t show up at all? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Natasha, but he had no idea who her source was and how they were related to all of this. For all he knew, they could be working for Garrett.
After some time of contemplating everything that could go wrong, Steve eventually drifted off into a light sleep.
\--------------------
_Around 4 hours later, approximately 0200 hours_
The first thing that Steve noticed was the sound of a cellphone ringing. The noise sounded distant, so he ignored it. It wasn’t his phone. Maybe it was coming from the hotel room next door. He didn’t know or care.
As he was drifting back to sleep he started to hear Natasha talking softly in another room. But that couldn’t be right. Why was Natasha in his hotel room?
Much closer to him, someone suddenly snored very loudly, and that was when Steve remembered—he was at James’s apartment, not his hotel. His new task force, his team—they were all here. It was like an impromptu sleepover.
Between Sam’s loud snores, Steve could hear Natasha whispering in the other room. “Are you sure?” she asked. She sounded worried and, much to Steve’s surprise, a little frantic.
Sam snored loudly again, and Steve gave up trying to go back to sleep. Still exhausted, he slowly stood up and made his way to the bedroom.
“Alright,” Natasha continued on the phone. “Let me know if anything changes. Oh, and Clint? Be careful, okay?”
She hung up the phone just as Steve got to the doorway and knocked on the frame. As soon as she spotted him, Steve could tell that she didn’t have good news.
“Garrett’s had a change in plans,” she explained, quickly turning on the lights. “Kahului Harbor, 0400.”
Steve needed a second for his groggy brain to process that new information. “Kahului…” He looked to his watch. That was in two hours “ _Shit._ ”
“Exactly,” Natasha agreed. She threw the blankets off of James unceremoniously. “James, wake up, it’s an emergency.” She turned to Steve. “Think you can get a helicopter at this hour?” | 001aa1047cab4e938f5509c4f21f50d4 | ['afa760ba49e34dc29a132121f55d88cb'] | Steve raised his eyebrows in what appeared to be genuine shock. This only made the huge cut on his forehead worse, and a small trail of blood began to trickle down the side of his face.
“I don’t look that bad,” Steve replied honestly.
“You really do.” James pulled out a clean tissue from his pocket and handed it to Steve, pointing to the injury as he did so.
Confused, Steve glanced at his reflection in the shiny elevator wall, frowned, and took the tissue. “I’ve been worse,” he replied as he cleaned his face.
“I don’t doubt that after seeing how reckless you can be.”
Steve sighed, but didn’t argue with the fact.
They arrived at their offices, but James got to the main door first and held it closed.
“Okay, look,” he began, mentally bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t want to seem like I, you know, _care_ about you, but are you absolutely sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”
At first, Steve merely looked at James in surprise. But after a while, he began to smile warmly. James resolutely held his serious expression.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Really.” Steve nodded towards James’s injured arm. “At least I’m not the one with a GSW.”
James scowled at that, but he opened the office door for Steve anyway. “At least I didn’t get the crap beaten out of me by a pothead.”
“The guy’s a good fighter, I swear.”
“He musta been real good ‘cause damn, Steve, you look like shit.” Sam was at the computer-table hybrid in the center of the room with a few documents pulled up on the screen.
“Thanks, Sam,” Steve replied sarcastically.
“What are friends for, right?” Sam grinned before turning back to the computer. “Anyway, there’s no word on Garrett yet, but I talked to Ward like you asked. He said that the drug at his place was meth, and he only dealt it for some side money but didn’t use. I asked for a drug test just in case, but I don’t think Garrett’s related to this stuff.”
“Probably not, but there’s no harm in trying,” said Steve. “Did the lab say anything?”
“The guy in charge was 100% sure the drug was meth without testing it, but they’ll have actual results, and I quote, ‘when we aren’t so damn busy,’ end quote.”
“Who’d you talk to?” James asked. He hadn’t been there very long, but James had also made a point to befriend those scientists as soon as possible. It usually helped him with cases when he needed fast lab results.
“Some guy with a weird haircut and a huge ego.”
“Stark?” James replied immediately since that was the same first impression that he had on the guy. “Tony Stark?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
Steve turned to James. “So what? Can we trust his opinion?”
James nodded without hesitation. “The guy’s insanely smart. And even though he’s got a huge ego, he wouldn’t say he’s 100% sure on something if he’s not, especially if it’s work-related.”
“Alright, we’ll take your word on it,” Steve said. “But it would still be nice to have official test results.”
“It shouldn’t take as long as he makes it sound,” James said. “The guy upgrades the lab equipment for fun so they can process tests faster.”
“Guess everyone has a hobby,” Sam muttered.
At that moment, Natasha entered the office. She looked to be her normal self, but James could see that something was slightly off—he may have only been Natasha’s partner for a few months but they could read each other like open books. James noticed how tense she was when she walked up to him and how she put a lot of effort to make sure she wasn’t expressing concern. Even if Steve and Sam didn’t notice, James sure did.
But he also knew that Natasha would punch him if he brought it up to the group. So James remained obediently silent on the matter.
“So my source doesn’t know where Garrett is now, but they know where he will be,” said Natasha. Even though James knew she was extremely worried, her voice was amazingly nonchalant.
“That’ll have to do,” Steve replied. “Where and when is that?”
A part of James wanted to smack the guy on the head for being so oblivious to Natasha’s feelings right now. But he figured that Steve was so focused on catching Garrett that he was blind to everything else—for instance, not apologizing for getting his partner shot.
Natasha didn’t seem to mind Steve’s ignorance. In fact, she seemed to appreciate it. “He’s trying to leave the country out of Honolulu Harbor. Tomorrow at 0600 hours on a ship departing for China from Pier 1.”
“That means we only have around… 18 hours to come up with a plan,” Sam said. “And he might not be alone this time.”
“It’ll be enough time,” Steve replied adamantly before turning back to Natasha. “Any chance he’ll leave earlier?”
Natasha shook her head. “If anything, he’ll leave later, but he probably wants to get out as soon as possible.”
“Let’s hope so.” Steve looked to the computer monitors for a moment, now displaying information on Garrett, before turning back to Natasha. “Could we know who your source is?”
Natasha subtly stiffened at this question, but, again, only James seemed to notice. “Sorry, Cap,” she replied, keeping her tone as cool as possible. “But that info’s classified.”
“Natasha…”
“Steve, I’m serious.” And now, Natasha was letting some of her concern show. Not to mention a very intimidating stare. “No one but me can know who they are.”
Steve, _you stubborn idiot_ , looked as if he was about to argue for a moment, but thankfully he seemed to decide against it.
“Alright,” he finally conceded. “But do you trust them at least?”
Without missing a beat, Natasha gave a solemn nod. “With my life.”
\-------------------- |
ef3ee23fc88e47a396ce262e74f11ff9 | ['afabeba2901d442eabc3d837390dc142'] |
Footsteps echoed through the empty halls of the mansion. The man tightened his red tie and buttoned his black jacket. His polished shoes didn’t make a sound against the light hardwood floor. The black-haired man reached the door at the end of the hall and wrapped his slender fingers around the golden door knob. He smirked.
“Tetsurou, you’re late.” The only person sitting in the room was Kuroo Tetsurou’s Saiko-Komon, Kozume Kenma. The small administrative assistant was sitting in the chair next to Kuroo’s. None of the other representatives had showed up yet.
“And so is everyone else, Kenma Darling.” Kuroo chuckled and sat down right at the head of the table. Kuroo is the oyabun of his clan, with Kenma as his administrator, or saiko-komon. Usually the significant other of the oyabun is a trophy, but in the top four clans of the Yamaguchi-Gumi family, the lovers are the saiko-komon. Not saying they aren’t treated like queens, because they are, but they’re too smart to be used as decorations. The reason why the four clans were gathering in the first place was because Shiratorizawa and Karasuno were planning on having a rumble in a month and all the clans needed to prepare for the end result. When the clans need to meet, they don’t just group the whole family, they bring the important members. The oyabun, the saiko-komon, the wakagashira and the shateigashira.
Speaking of wakagashira and shateigashira, Nekoma’s came waltzing in the door at that second. The very short man and his tall parallel burst through the door huffing and Yaku looked about ready to burst. They both stopped in their tracks as they saw the room. Yaku nearly screamed.
“We aren’t late!?” He screamed. Lev cowered behind the smaller man, slightly afraid of him.
“Yaku, no one is ever early. What did you expect?” Kuroo smirked and leaned back in his chair.
“Well I at least expected Sawamura and Sugawara to be here.” Yaku grumbled before sitting down across from Kenma, Lev plopping down next to him.
“Did someone say my name?” Sawamura Daichi waltzed into the meeting, his arm around Sugawara Koshi. The Saiko-komon to his Oyabun. Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio stumbled in the next, both tense and sneering at the other. The two lieutenants had both been the seconds for about a year, sharing the wakagashira and shateigashira duties. Daichi had yet to decide who was taking the first spot, and was making his decision soon. Both of the boys were uptight and unsure of the result. Kuroo was completely oblivious to this, as always.
“Daichi! Koushi! You’re the first ones here! Please take a seat. First come,” A smirk. “First serve.”
Daichi chuckled. He sat right at the other head of the table, Suga taking a seat right on his lap with no hesitation. As the other two sat down, Kuroo spared a glance at Kenma. Sometimes he wished that he would be like the other saiko-komon, but at the same time… He never wanted him to change. He wondered if their relationship would turn out like Suga and Daichi’s. Leave an awful scar in their lives like it did on Daichi’s face. Nor did he want a possessive angry relationship like Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He knew they had complete control over each other. Kuroo would like that. He wouldn’t like the insanity, though. If there are two things he’d never want to give up it would be his kenma and his sanity. On the other hand Bokuto and Akaashi were-
“Tetsurou-chan!” A loud sing-song voice rang out as the doors slammed open. Oikawa Tooru skipped towards the long table and giggled. “Tobio-chan! Kou-chan! So glad you’re here! Yaku-chan! Oh, and Ken-chan! Can’t wait to talk after the meeting!”
Lev leaned over to side, moving so he could see past Oikawa and Daichi’s heads. There was no Iwaizumi to be seen. Not Makki or Mattsun either. That was a bit suspicious. Even someone as incompetent as Lev knew that Iwaizumi was very very particular about where Tooru was and who he was with. So why would he let Oikawa come here without him? Lev had a tickling feeling that Iwaizumi had no idea his precious was here alone.
“um… Yaku? Why is Oikawa-”
“I know, Lev,” Yaku crossed his arms. “I don’t understand either.” Everyone looked suspicious. Kuroo looked at Oikawa with a curious expression, obviously intent on playing out the situation to his advantage. While Oikawa was teasing “Tobio-chan” and “Kei-chan”, Kuroo pulled out his phone and opened up Iwaizumi’s contact. Kenma was leaning over the arm of his chair, successfully distracted from his own phone.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kenma whispered. Kuroo looked up at him then sent a quick text. He smirked at Kenma obviously saying of course i’m sure, Kenma darling and Kenma leant back in chair. “What’d you send?” Kuroo silently handed the phone over to the young Komon.
One, Two,
Is he missing from you?
Three, Four,
Is he looking for more?
Five, Six,
You’ll break him like a stick,
When you find out that he’s here.
~*~
Iwaizumi is pissed. Oikawa was missing, he was late to a meeting and he got blood on his suit. The unreliable bodyguard that let Oikawa leave just had to die, it's the way it is. He couldn't waste perfectly good ammo on that scumbag so he killed him with his bare hands. Now he had to find Oikawa and get to that damned meeting.
The text he received from Kuroo was not helping. He'd been around the boss for years now, he could undo any riddle he threw… but that one made his blood boil. Iwaizumi was going to that meeting, and someone is going to die. | df6c7a539f644abc80a4eedffb84b4ec | ['afabeba2901d442eabc3d837390dc142'] | The moment he stepped into the room he saw red. His eyes narrowed on Oikawa with his arms wrapped around Kuroko neck from behind and a smirking mob boss with his head tilted back. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if Kuroo chuckled or not, he just knew that he lunged for the smug cat as soon as he could, ripping him out of his chair and throwing him away from Oikawa. He went to hit Kuroo but his path was blocked with Kozume. He grabbed the younger man’s arm and went to rip him away, but He was halted by kuroo.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off of him.” Kuroo was pissed now. Oikawa slipped in between Kozume and Iwaizumi and placed himself in the oyabun’s arms instead. He tried to whisper calming words but all Iwaizumi was hearing was white noise. His arm gripped Oikawa’s waist hard.
“Stop it, Iwaizumi, we’re just having fun!” A smirk.
“Maybe you shouldn’t touch my property.” Iwaizumi growled back. Oikawa looked slightly taken back.
“I am not an object, Hajime.” Oikawa snapped out. Iwaizumi replied with “you’re still mine” the same time Kuroo sneaked in and yelled. “Then maybe don’t act like one.” Oikawa didn’t want Hajime to step down this time but before Iwaizumi could strike, Tsukishima was out of his seat and had a hand on Kuroo’s chest lightning fast. They were whispering and all Oikawa could gather was “down,” “worth it,” and “Sunday.” Kuroo looked away and bit the inside of his cheek. He was torn between looking angry, happy and hysterical.
“My, my megane-kun, you’ve grown a pair.” Kuroo tried to push past Tsukishima’s hand but Tsukki remained strong, not letting Kuroo pass.
“Hike up your skirt so you can sit your ass down. Be a respectful host and fight them after the meeting.” Tsukishima looked down into Kuroo’s eyes and clenches his jaw. Kuroo chuckled.
“Only for you, beautiful.” He whispered, brushing shoulders with Tsukishima and then Iwaizumi. He gracefully sat down and crossed his legs, Kenma falling in behind. Oikawa looked over his shoulder at the taller male. He mouthed a quick thank you at Tsukishima as the other sat down. Oikawa turned his head back to Iwaizumi.
“I see the blood on your shirt. Did you kill Kindaichi?” Oikawa danced his fingers over the cuff of Iwaizumi’s suit.
“No, I killed Mirani,” Iwaizumi tugged his sleeve away from Oikawa.
“Good I like Kindaichi. Can we get Kyoutani to be my guard next?” Oikawa laid his head on his lover’s shoulder.
“Is it because your favorite stripper has a crush on him?” Iwaizumi resisted the urge to pet Oikawa's soft hair. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapped an arm around his waist.
“Yahaba is an exotic dancer!” Oikawa playfully punched his arm.
“Can we get you guys a room or are you gonna just stay here and give us a spectacle?” Two men walked in, one with black hair and one with… pink? Kenma didn’t know anymore he just wanted to go back to bed.
“Hanamaki. Matsukawa. Shut up.” Iwaizumi grumbled.
“Okay boss, whatever you say.” Hanamaki, the first lieutenant, said. He plopped down next to Matsukawa. Iwaizumi sighed and sat down next to them. He didn’t even give Oikawa a choice, just pulled him down onto his lap. Iwaizumi didn’t see the the look he gave Sugawara and the wink he got in return.
“Great. Now, let’s wait for Bokuto and Akaashi.” Kuroo announced, slumping back in his chair and beginning a small conversation with Kenma. Lev was bouncing in his seat, looking over Yaku’s shoulder at the smaller man’s phone. Tsukishima and Kageyama seemed to be having a small argument while Suga and Daichi were whispering to each other. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were giggling at something, probably homemade memes or something like that. Iwaizumi leaned forward and placed his mouth next to Oikawa’s ear.
“You disappeared. We’re in the middle of a rumble with Shiratorizawa, and this is the time you decide to leave on your own. You could’ve been hurt, Tooru.” Iwaizumi tightened his hold on Oikawa's waist. Oikawa tried to protest, but Iwaizumi shushed him with a peck on the lips lips. “Just tell me next time. Communication is a part of a healthy relationship.” Oikawa nodded.
Yeah, no thanks. Oikawa didn’t come to Iwaizumi for a healthy relationship. He wanted something more abstract than that. Iwaizumi is never this handsy with me, Oikawa thought as the spiky haired male nuzzled his face into his neck. I’ll have to do this again sometime. Truth was, with no surprise, that Oikawa is needy. He needs the best guards, the biggest house, the most expensive things. Iwaizumi is happy to provide those things. But Tooru also needs to be hanging off of Iwa-chan twenty-four seven too. Recently, Iwaizumi had been trying to close a deal with a small time oyabun, Terushima, for a very big diamond ring. The amount of heists, meetings and other pointless stuff Iwaizumi had to endure had been ruthless. Nevertheless, the ring was for Oikawa so there was no way he was gonna slack off.
Oikawa on the other hand, thought he was being ignored and started doing a lot of stupid things to get attention. The guards did their best keeping things from the boss, but how were they supposed to convince him that Oikawa hadn’t disappeared? They didn’t. They just shoved the blame on poor Mirani. He was the only one without a family anyways. No one was going to miss him. Now that Iwaizumi was all over him, he’ll lay off. For now. All's well that ends well, and if a cuddly Iwaizumi is what he gets, Oikawa is sated.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door. Someone was running in the hall. Kuroo stood up and furrowed his brows. Everyone reached for a gun. Kenma blinked slowly as he stood up as well. He walked to the door. The running stopped. The hall was quiet. Kenma slowly reached out a hand towards the doorknob. A resounding slam hit the door, causing Kenma to jump away. Kuroo, who somehow made his way across the room, pulled Kenma back by his shoulder and pulled him behind him. Kuroo yanked out his gun and pointed it at the door. And waited. And waited. The door handle juggled. The door flung open as Kuroo tightened his grip on the gun.
“Hey, Hey, Hey!”
Kuroo smirked.
“Oya. We’re ready to go.”
“Oya.” He lowered his gun. “Oya.” He opened his arms wide. “Oya.”
Bokuto did the same.
“Let’s get this party started.”
**Author's Note:**
> Yea IDK man happy very very very VERY belated holidays, I love you Chloe! |
cf4793d0dd594711b015741e5583e667 | ['afb5c25a2c7942c99976f7fe61ef1eb7'] | Luke pulled Thalia away from the main group and into a side corridor and down some steps into a cavern underneath the base, she was amazed to see they were underwater as she looked around the room, there were holo-images of people in Paladin Armour all over, it was different to the armour of the other’s, it was closer to that of Nico’s and Jason’s. Some were projected wearing the heavy armour but most were wearing light armour with staffs or glowing hands. There were two human-sized robots tending to a computer screen in front of them as Luke spoke “these are the Paladins from the marines, navy and the extinct sorcerers section, most of them were wiped out in the scythe wars, the majority of those that remained left the Paladins to tend to the refugees.” He pointed to a beautiful young woman who had inky black hair and wore feathers in her hair like Mari except hers were larger, she wore black armour like Nico’s but it was lighter and seemed to inter-weave with the dark green and blue fabric she had on, on her back was a green cloak, he just said “Otheria, she’s not dead so we’ll have to take her image down.” Thalia smiled but asked “is this a private memorial?” Luke replied bluntly “this is the **only** memorial to our dead. After the war, we were not popular, understandable, but no one remembered that we lost a lot of good soldiers and many were friends. Otheria, Cazar, the sorcerer’s section, with most of our personal squads, people who had been with us since the founding.” Thalia looked at him as he led her to another holo-image at the side, near the stairs, one who looked similar to Otheria, but wore heavy armour that was a white that seemed to have a blue tint to it; his eyes seemed different to Otheria’s though they shared many of the same features. Luke explained “Cazar. Otheria’s brother. He saved my life with Zoe and Nico.” Thalia nodded in understanding “when you were all talking about your injuries, they said you were worse off than Percy?” Luke twitched slightly, replying “Percy lost his sword arm, from just below the shoulder. Orion saved his life, the reason Kiros has that scar was the next time they met Percy wanted payback.” Thalia blinked as horror was all she felt as she realised how much her old friends had gone through and likely they had changed. Thalia turned her focus to the image of Cazar, the turned Paladin Master who had saved the person she still cared for after everything. The silence between them was comfortable for a few seconds that seemed to extend.
Luke spoke suddenly “I am sorry – for everything I did – the Titans, nearly killing-” Thalia cut him off by wrapping a hand on his mouth to keep him quiet as she hissed out “shut up. I can understand why you did it and I do forgive you, hell I may have done the same if it had been you turned into a tree...” Luke moved her hand away from his mouth and rubbed his fingers over her knuckles gently, his gaze on her as she saw in the faint light the number of scars on his arms and a few on his face that had faded over the years bar the one he had received on his ill-fated quest. Seeing where her attention had gone he just said “Kiros. It’s the reason I reacted so badly to his presence on the Skybridge.” Thalia growled and the silvery aura of Artemis’ blessing glowed even brighter as she started losing her patience. Luke smiled softly and his hands brushed away a strand of hair from her face as he said “my imprisonment placed me in Kiros’ tender care. At the time he was my guard, I was the highest ranking prisoner they had. The torture was horrific; you see the results.” Thalia just asked breathlessly “why?” Luke smirked, looking like his old self but, his eyes were broken and Thalia just wanted to scream at the galaxy for taking Luke’s light from his eyes that he retained even working for the Titans. Luke just said softly “he wanted the Titan supporter back, the host of Kronus. By any means necessary, physical or psychological, including fiddling with my memories... but yet I don’t think they tampered with you. They couldn’t for some reason.” Thalia felt like hugging Luke but refrained as he started walking up the stairs, she followed and he escorted her to her room in silence, she noticed then that it was attached to his own as he said “get some sleep Thalia, unless you want to be with your father?” Thalia raised an eyebrow at him before changing into a simple large shirt with a pyjama bottom that was Luke’s as he waited outside, he walked in and lowered a secondary bed for her from the small sofa, he walked into his room after just bidding her goodnight. | 147cb5d45c454c50a4b8628ff1157ff6 | ['afb5c25a2c7942c99976f7fe61ef1eb7'] | She heard campers yelling in the background. Deciding to take a risk, she wrapped her hands around the hilt and suddenly the hilt flung out of her hands, it hovered in the air and there was silence, many campers drawing weapons as a glowing figure appeared. Annabeth, at camp for the first time in around a century, let out an uncontrolled yell. “_Piper_!” The figure was Piper Mclean, the missing daughter of Aphrodite and girlfriend of the missing Jason, a little older than what Clarisse remembered, still young in looks but her eyes were war weary as she spoke “I am Piper Mclean, daughter of Aphrodite and Master Paladin. I am currently under attack and this sword hilt is what my attackers are after. Chiron, if you ever had any love for me you **must** protect it. It is too dangerous in the wrong hands, and for the love of the gods, DO NOT melt it down or place a new blade inside. It would end... badly. Only trust those who say they are paladins that don’t try and kill you when they come.” The message faded out and Clarisse caught the hilt as it fell, it was lighter than she expected. Turning to Chiron she spoke firmly, “I’ll keep it safe.” Chiron nodded as he looked at the hilt saying softly “she’s alive after all these years....” Thalia looked at Annabeth who just commented “if Piper’s alive, what about the others?” There was silence, Chiron just said “we will have to wait and see. Piper would not send such a message unless she meant it. Clarisse please keep it on you at all times. Cabin councillors meeting now, Conner and Tavis please tell the Olympian council to attend, Bobby, please get our Roman counterparts.” Clarisse nodded and teleported back to the big house as Conner, Travis and Bobby vanished in a glow of light as well, all the mortal campers averting their eyes.
Clarisse sat on her chair as did the other councillors, a mixture of Greeks, Romans, hunters and immortals as the Olympians arrived to see why Chiron had messaged them. Chiron nodded to Clarisse who placed the hilt in the middle of the table, there was silence. Thalia spoke softly “what’s the sword called?” Clarisse looked at Aphrodite who just said “this is Piper’s. She, it is embedded with her power, but it is enhanced somehow, by another being.” Hephases picked the blade up and inspected it, he blinked before saying “this... it has a message from its creator.” He activated the message by touching the pommel of the sword, a head appeared, Leo Valdez. He looked exhausted and had a scar on his face that seemed to be healing, he smiled tiredly saying “hi Dad. This is programmed message in the event that Amora, one of the five swords-” Zeus half exclaimed worriedly, “there’s _five_ of these?!” Leo continued “-finds itself on Earth. In this case, protect it and one of us can come and get it. If one of us sent it there.... well, someone will be on their way soon.” Everyone looked at each other at this, Leo’s tone of voice was foreboding and he looked just as war-weary as Piper did in her message, but he seemed more haunted and recent. Clarisse and Annabeth looked at each other and knew that whatever had made Piper so weary had just happened in the message. Leo continued with a soft smile, “we don’t blame you and the others, for being stupid and arresting Percy, okay he and Jason still blame Poseidon for telling on us and for you all for allowing it to happen.” Poseidon winced at this as Leo continued “though we would never have had become Paladins had we not, though with what happened to Percy...” Leo turned around and cursing, said “got to go, sorry, this is the only sword capable of holding messages, and I was banned from putting any in, especially since I am supposed to be taking the blade out.” The face disappeared and there was silence. Athena spoke, “what has happened to Perseus Jackson?” Annabeth turned on her mother, resorting with an angry “we **don’t** **know**_, _**none** of us do. We just have to wait and keep the sword hilt safe.” Thalia breathed out “Jason and Leo are still alive with Piper according to these, but if Percy was mentioned in such a way...” A wave of sadness spread over the room.
Chiron turned from the sword hilt to look at the image that Leo had made and left behind in his workshop, it had been years ahead of its time but still worked. It activated as Thalia moved and pressed the button to turn it on. The image activated and a photo appeared Piper and Jason with their arms around each other. Nico standing with Thalia and Leo, Percy with Annabeth on his back, everyone was smiling broadly, Frank was there with Hazel, the former having turned into a lion with Hazel on his back. Reyna and Octavian were also standing there, Reyna looking dignified while Octavian seemed to be plotting something. The photo was the last of the prophecy of seven before Frank died protecting the body of Hazel from the giant king.
Apollo suddenly doubled over as he stood up to leave, his eyes glowed green like his oracle as he spoke in three voices that echoed through the room as everyone was silent in shock.
_The one forgotten will remember himself by blessings of his lord_
_The one lost in shadows will see the light again_
_The family torn apart for defiance and hope will reunite _
_To bring the peace which the light-bringers seek_
_They must go back to where they lost it all_
_For to remake the blades four must travel to find the traitor child_
_But beware the price promised that must be paid in blood and death._ |
d9ddd41f7f2b44b3a3fadf091c2670ea | ['afb7c91cdadf4957816d9d74233fe9cf'] | At least Church was quiet, for once. Though that was probably because Tex from security was out in the main office talking to Caboose, and Church never wasted an opportunity to stare at her.
Grif finished his burger, dumped all of his trash into the trashcan without bothering to worry about recycling, and left the two behind as he made his way to Wash’s office.
Wash was sitting at his desk when Grif came in, gesturing at the chair across from him once he saw who it was. Grif flopped into it, purposefully arranging himself in a careless sprawl.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, voice flat and uninterested.
“I think,” Wash began, hands clasped in front of him, and Grif suddenly realized Wash felt very awkward, “I think you shouldn’t be so hard on Simmons.”
Grif blinked. “I get that you’re my boss and all, but is giving relationship advice really part of the job?”
Wash flushed in a way that reminded Grif uncomfortably of the subject of this conversation. “It isn’t,” Wash said, and his voice was even, despite the pink on his freckled cheeks. “And that’s not what I’m trying to do. Have you noticed how I’ve never called you in here, despite the fact that you don’t do any of the work you’re assigned?”
Was this what Wash was getting at? A weird way to go about it. “You don’t do it because you don’t want to piss off my mom,” Grif said, settling into his chair. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.” This was a familiar argument, one he always won, because what could they do?
Except Wash said, “You sit at your desk every day and you play games online. I see it. The whole office sees it. I’ve never witnessed you spend any time on the reports you’re given.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m wasting company time, I could do better, blah blah--”
“--Yet for the past two months your reports have appeared in my database, complete and on time.”
Grif stalled. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. His ‘I don’t give a fuck’ look gave way to pure confusion, while Wash watched him in a way that made it clear he’d prepared for this reaction. _What?_
“He’s not as good at hacking as he probably thinks he is,” Wash continued. “I noticed fairly quickly that someone else was using your account. At first I thought to alert the higher ups to a breach, until I realized he wasn’t doing anything more than completing the paperwork you’ve ignored.”
Grif gave his boss a lopsided grin, hiding the way his heart was pounding. _There’s no way_. “Are you trying to punk me?”
“No. I’m telling you the facts. Your husband has been doing your work for you for the past two months.”
That night two days ago flashed again before Grif’s eyes, and so did the last few weeks. How tired Simmons looked. The bags under those green eyes. How Grif had been smug about it, because fuck Simmons, fuck him and his neat freak bullshit and telling Grif what to do--
“Uh. Okay.” Shit. He looked like a complete asshole. “...Thanks?”
“Don’t lean on him, Dexter.” Washington glanced away, and there was something unreadable in his face, something dark and deep that Grif did not even want to touch at all. “And don’t let him lean on you. That’s all I wanted to say.”
“Right. Cool. Good talk. Maybe next time use less mysterious anti-hero language?” Grif was up and out of his chair, already backing out of the room. “You should ask Tucker for instructions.”
Wash’s flush was back, and Grif caught a “I’m not--!” before Grif let the door close behind him and separate him from the fact that his boss had just given him advice for dealing with his own husband.
On second thought, Grif wasn't sure it was even advice. What the hell. He sat back down at his desk and stared at his computer’s home screen for a solid five minutes.
_Your husband has been doing your work for you for the past two months._
Why the fuck would Simmons do that? Simmons _hated_ him, that much was obvious. There may have been moments where Simmons almost looked happy to have Grif around, but Grif had chalked those up to his own imagination, because the rest of the time Simmons acted like he wanted to launch Grif into the sun. He'd almost think this had something to do with Simmons’ dad, but why would ‘Senior’ care about the work Grif did?
He was faced with a truth he didn't want: Simmons was helping him just to help him.
“Did you get in trouble?” Caboose asked, and Grif nearly jumped out of his skin.
“ _Caboose!_ ” Grif looked up from the computer screen he'd been staring at, and, sure enough, there stood Caboose at the opening of his cubicle, brown curls falling into his large brown doe eyes.
“I'm sorry you're in trouble,” Caboose continued, as if Grif hadn't just yelled. “Mr. Washington can be scary sometimes. Are you okay?”
Grif had the thought he usually did, which was _why the fuck was this guy hired_. He kept it to himself, as he usually did, to be asked of Tucker and Church later.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Don't you have work to do?”
Caboose’s eyes widened, and he said, “Oh, no!” and scrambled back to his own cubicle. Grif let out a breath, then turned back to his computer. He hesitantly opened his work account to see the latest report he'd been told to file.
It was already half done. Fuck. He wasn't being punked.
Gritting his teeth, Grif started on the rest of it, deciding he'd ask Simmons what the hell his game was later.
\- - -
He didn't get the chance.
“Dex!” his mother exclaimed, as soon as he walked through the door. | 7868275e72e84cf2915d111c098c4b83 | ['afb7c91cdadf4957816d9d74233fe9cf'] | He settled back down, gently snuggling up against Suguro. He decided he wouldn't worry about it and prepared himself to go back to sleep. This time as he started drifting off he was brought back to consciousness by a cold breeze on his face and a familiar whisper.
_Rin_.
His eyes flew open and it took all of his willpower not to jump out of his skin. Just like the night before, the second person to interrupt his beauty sleep was Aimi, who was standing right next to the bed in all of her translucent glory.
“Why can't any of you wait until the morning?” he complained loudly, then, remembering Suguro was still asleep, lowered his voice. “And stop scaring me like that!”
“Sorry,” she said, but he noticed she was smiling a little, and it dawned on him that the probable cause was the way he was gripping the arm Suguro had wrapped around him. He blushed and let go, briefly thinking that it was a miracle Suguro hadn't woken up yet.
“I just came to say goodbye,” Aimi continued. Rin's eyebrows furrowed.
“...Oh, yeah, that's right!” He switched to a grin. “I forgot that we were leaving tomorrow. But we'll come back and visit sometime!”
Aimi shook her head. “I'm not going to be here anymore, Rin. I'm moving on. That's why I'm saying goodbye.”
“ _What_?” Rin stared. “But why? What about Suki, and Miss Abumi?”
“Suki's getting too old for an 'imaginary friend'. I have to let her go.” Aimi looked like she wanted to cry, if ghosts could even do that. “And as for Haruka...it's better that she never knows I was the ghost Suki was talking to.”
“But don't you think she'd be happy to see you?”
“Oh yes, I know she would. That's the problem. Haruka and I were very close when I was alive, and she's only recently come to terms with my passing. If she knew I was still around...” Aimi stared off into space. “I've already been here too long. It's time to go before it becomes too hard.”
“But--”
“Thank you for your help, Rin Okumura.” For a moment she glowed brightly, so bright that Rin had to shield his eyes, and then she was gone. Spots danced in his vision.
He felt Suguro shift behind him. “Rin...?”
His stomach immediately erupted into butterflies. Suguro had never used his first name before.
“Yeah?”
“Whass goin' on?” His words slurred with fatigue and he rested his chin in the crook of Rin's neck. It made Rin smile.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Then, thinking better of it, he turned slightly toward Suguro and asked, “Does this mean I can call you Ryuuji now?”
Suguro yawned and laid back down. “Yeah.”
“What about Bon? Can I call you Bon?”
He chuckled sleepily. “Hell no.”
Disappointed, Rin nevertheless settled back against Suguro and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for him to pass out again and this time he slept through the night without any more interruptions.
Thanks to the alarm they got up on time and packed up their stuff to leave. The only hitch in the process was when Run had to help Suguro change his shirt (an awkward process full of quiet swearing and insults) but they eventually finished getting ready and went downstairs to say goodbye. Miss Abumi was very polite, thanking them again for their help while also silently urging them to leave as quickly as possible. Rin was restless; he wished he could tell her about her sister, but Aimi hadn't wanted that, so instead he smiled blandly through the farewells. Haruka had at least woken Suki up to see him off; she asked if he would come back and play with her again and Rin, feeling Haruka's eyes boring into his skull, said he'd try but with all his schoolwork it might be hard. Haruka gave a tiny nod of approval and patted her disappointed daughter on the shoulder.
When they left the rest of the city was just starting to wake up. The train was nearly empty – they sat next to each other, close but not too close, both still unsure of where they stood and what level of PDA they should engage in.
“We've got the rest of the day off,” Ryuuji said eventually. He was carefully lifting his arm to put around Rin's shoulders but Rin had had the same thought and they clashed in midair. Both dropped their arms, blushing and staring off in opposite directions.
“Oh yeah. You wanna do something?”
Ryuuji crossed his arms and shrugged. The tips of his ears were pink. “Sure, I'd be up for something. What've you got in mind?”
“I dunno. I've never been on a date before.”
Ryuuji let out a “Ha!” and grinned at Rin. “Really?”
“Well, I mean, I—I always had better stuff to do!” Rin replied defensively. “What about you, huh? How many dates have _you_ had?” He instantly regretted the question, remembering how popular Ryuuji was with the girls in school. To his surprise, though, Ryuuji's grin dropped and he looked away.
“Oh, well, one or two, I don't remember, it's been a while--”
“You haven't been on a date either, have you!” Rin laughed, half in triumph and half in relief, as Ryuuji glared at him.
“I was always busy! And it didn't seem worth the trouble.”
“Uh-huh.” Rin beamed. “You can't laugh at me, then.”
“ _Whatever_.” Ryuuji huffed. “We still need to think of something to do.”
Rin contemplated for a moment, then said, “Why don't we just hang out in my room? We could watch a movie or something. I wanna go home and make breakfast anyway.”
“Breakfast sounds good,” Suguro agreed, nodding. “Let's do that.” |
56a05a9472924290a680a7b3502db902 | ['afcd935f5bc046699090af229f0eec90'] | “I understand what they’re going through,” Greg said, “it’s different for werewolves and their human mates. My dad was the alpha and my mother is a human, they’ve been married for 29 years and still act like they’re teenagers in love. They act like Stiles and Derek, maybe not as much public sex but trust me it’s there every day and it only gets worse if they’re separated for even a day.”
“Is that what it means to be mated?” Lydia asked.
“Pretty much,” Greg said softly.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Lydia said and Greg’s face dropped, “yet. It could be something I want when I finish college and don’t have to worry about everything that’s happening here. I just broke up with one werewolf and if I brought another one home straight away it would be war.”
“Got that right,” Ethan said, “Aiden’s an idiot but he would take personal offence to this if it happens straight away.”
“It’s not going to happen straight away,” Lydia snapped, “I’m happy being single right now and I don’t need the stress of another werewolf right now. You seem like such a good guy Greg and I’d love to get to know you over the next couple of years and see where it goes from there.”
“The more we hang out the more you’ll feel this pull towards me,” Greg said and looked at her softly, “it’s like you said with Stiles and Derek that they’re unbearable. Even if we aren’t sexual you’ll feel this pull. Stiles, did you feel like you needed to be around Derek before you mated?”
“Yes,” he looked at Derek with wide eyes, “how did you know that?”
“Its instinct,” he said and looked at the two of them, “how did you do it? Just to be near him without drawing attention to yourself.”
“I used to go and study there and on pack nights I used to go and help make the food just so I could touch him accidentally when we cooked together,” Stiles looked at Derek and the werewolves eyes softened, “I felt comforted when I brushed up against you and I always thought you noticed the contact.”
“I did but it comforted me too so I never said anything,” he growled, “I never thought you felt it before we mated.”
“I just thought it was a crush,” he muttered and looked down at their linked ankles, “you should have told me earlier.”
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he said softly.
“But we could have been doing this for two years.”
“It was hard enough keeping it a secret for one.”
“True, maybe it’s better this way.” He kissed his mate and nuzzled into his side, the touch was reassuring and they both melted into the other.
“You guys are two cute,” Allison said and smiled at Scott, “after this goddamn pregnancy you’re mating me so we’re like that.”
“You want to be dependent on another person’s touch for the rest of your life.”
“Yes,” she said angrily, “I would like that because at least I know you’d actually be fucking me right now instead of avoiding me like a plague.”
“Whoop there it is,” Erica said and Stiles tried not to laugh.
“Shut up Erica.”
“We were all wondering when you were going to snap,” she replied and looked at Boyd, “we just didn’t think it would be somewhere so public.”
“I am done with trying to be nice and think you’ll come around.”
“Ally,” Scott said and reached out for her but she jerked away, “can we do this when we get home?”
“Greg and I are gonna go for a walk,” Lydia said quickly, “we don’t want to hear the parents fight.”
“Derek,” Stiles said and he nodded.
“Everyone let’s go down the street and leave them to talk,” Derek said and made everyone leave the apartment. The couple’s all spilt up and started walking hand in hand with each other, Derek made Stiles hang back and wrapped his arm around his shoulder comfortingly. “They need to talk and I want to give the others some privacy.”
“Let’s go to our spot,” he nodded and Stiles kissed his cheek lovingly, “you mean everything to me Derek.”
“Same here Stiles,” he took his hand and walked down the street together slowly, “I’m so glad that we haven’t had that problem in our relationship.”
“Hey, even when I choose to become pregnant we’re having sex.”
“I wouldn’t be able to resist you,” Derek said softly, “your scent will be twice as strong during pregnancy and it will drive me insane. The pack better be prepared when that happens.”
“They’re not prepared now what makes you think they’ll be prepared then.”
“Then they’ll have to learn to live with it when the time comes,” Derek kissed his mate again and Stiles smiled up at him. They saw the pack at the end of the street and they started walking again, Derek kept hold of Stiles’ hand tightly and they continued down the street talking quietly. “I love you.”
“I know,” he smiled and kissed his mate again. It was a sweet kiss and Stiles gasped against his mouth. “Come on they could be a while and I’m still hungry.”
“Curly fries.”
“Always.”
They walked into the café holding hands and waved to the server behind the counter before taking their normal seats, the pack trailed in after them and sat down at tables close to Derek and Stiles. Stiles was busy eating his curly fries and drinking his caramel latte when Derek’s phone went off.
**Scott: Allison and I are driving home tonight. We’ve worked it out but she doesn’t want to stay. Tell Stiles I’m sorry and I’ll talk to him later.**
**DH: Okay.**
“Stiles,” he looked up and smiled at Derek, “Scott and Allison are on their way back to Beacon Hills. She didn’t want to stay and make the pack upset.” | 6b4e845d9d2e411daa7f9b34ef9dd65a | ['afcd935f5bc046699090af229f0eec90'] | “No, I want exactly what they have,” he replied and looked at the pair still making out. They had been together for over a year and still acted like they did when they first started dating, maybe that was love and everyone else was doing it wrong. Scott had never heard them say that they loved each other but he could see it in the way they looked at each other and the way they acted. “They have the best kind of love,” he nodded and looked at Isaac. “I didn’t think I needed that in my life until I met them and now I know I do because they strive with each other.” He picked up the water and took a sip before he shot Scott a nervous glance, he shook his head and Isaac smiled. He wasn’t going to say anything about their almost date because the others didn’t need to know.
“Hey,” Scott said and threw a fork at Derek. They broke away from each other and turned to look at him. “Do we need to separate you two so you participate in this date?” Stiles blushed and licked his lips before facing the others, Scott could see him reach across and put his hand on Derek’s thigh. “So, this is going to be awkward with the sexually charged couple?” Derek almost choked on his water and started coughing loudly, Stiles patted his back and looked at Scott with wide eyes. “Why come out when you are going through this?”
“Other’s don’t know yet,” Derek said and gestured at Isaac. Scott frowned and finally understood, he picked up his drink and took a long sip. “You just basically gave it away but we were going to tell everyone next week when it became official.” Derek shook his head and looked back at Stiles, he smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek with trembling fingers. “I love you.” Stiles bulked and Derek nodded at him. Oh, Scott understood that this public declaration was a part of the ritual but Stiles looked freaked, he hadn’t expected it to happen now and he didn’t know what to say. It was the first time he had seen Stiles speechless and he let out a tight laugh.
“A speechless Stiles,” he said and Derek looked at him, “who knew?” He was trying to buy Stiles time to compose himself and orientate his thoughts. Derek turned back to a now grinning Stiles and he leapt at him, Scott turned back to look at Isaac and shrugged. “He needed a little time to get his thoughts in order but I guess the bond mate stuff is almost done. Finally. I won’t have to see a pinning Stiles or Derek once it’s done and they needed the fucking hurry along.”
“I love you too,” Stiles said and they kissed each other long and passionately.
“I hope I never have to go through this crap. I want someone to just say they love me so it can get done over with quickly,” Isaac said and Scott laughed, “What?”
“There’s nine steps you have to complete to become a full-fledged bond mate,” Scott said and looked at his smiling best friend, “Stiles and Derek just completed step eight after eight months of doing this. This takes time and you need someone to know about it, they feel the change in each other when they’ve completed a step and now they have one left. It’s also the hardest with Derek’s family being deceased except for Peter.”
“I don’t understand,” he said and looked at the couple.
“They need approval from the family members they are closest too,” Scott said and looked at Isaac. “Derek killed Peter and now he’s back alive and isn’t particularly happy with him because he’s still the alpha. You have to understand that this is going to be the most difficult step especially with Stiles’ dad being the Sheriff.”
“Damn,” Isaac whispered and looked back at Derek. He found him staring at them and he smacked Scott’s arm; he turned to face them and Stiles smiled at him again. He held up one finger and Scott nodded before turning his attention back to the happy pair. He was determined to find someone and go through all of that trouble for them, it was exactly what they needed to stay together and he wanted that with the person he chose. Stiles had chosen to do it for Derek and they had made it work, it had taken them a while but it’s what you did when you were in love with someone. He hoped he found someone as good for him as Derek is for Stiles.
“Scott and Isaac, I have something to ask you both,” Derek said and they both looked at him, “the pack is my family and Scott you’ve been the one person who’s always been there for me even through the times. I know you don’t want a pack and never want to join mine but you are family. Isn’t that what a pack is? Family?” He took Stiles hand and gripped it tightly before asking the big question. “Do we have your approval for this bond?”
“Yes,” they both rushed out. Scott smiled at his friends and he knew they really were family, he froze and looked at Stiles again. “Stiles, you’re going to have to get my mother’s approval too.” Stiles nodded because he had already taken that into consideration, she had been there for him and had become a surrogate mother to him. She definitely had to give him approval because his heart would know if she didn’t and the ritual wouldn’t be complete.
“We should go and try to tackle the rest by tonight. You still have to ask Erica and Boyd and I still have to ask mum and dad,” Stiles said and Derek nodded before standing up and grabbing Stiles’ hand. |
be68dbab0dcc4c69acd6afbfb7c2a9af | ['afd7685225c24d8498641593711f27a8'] | "Levi! Petra and I made you a birthday cake! I know you hate celebrating it, but we wanted to at least once, with all of us! Please please tell me you'll at least be normal for an hour and celebrate with us?" exclaimed Hange.
Levi looked around. Everyone in the Survey Corps for whom he cared at all were there. The rest of his team - Oluo, Eld, Gunther, and Eren - was gathered around the lit cake. Hange's decorating job highlighted the background which was usually boring gray castle stone. Surreal couldn't even cover it. Never had anyone even attempted to bake him a cake or throw him a party of his own. The banner against the far wall boldly proclaimed "For Humanity's Strongest Soldier." The cake, rather large as it was, was a work of art in a still-messy kitchen. Tch. He almost made a snarky remark about the subtle cravat drawn in icing, but somehow he resisted.
He couldn't have avoided it if had tried. No human with a beating heart could have.
Levi smiled.
~ O ~
Beautiful gray eyes slowly opened to be hit with the dying sunset.
_Damn._
Levi slowly stretched his slightly stiff arms and legs out as the last daylight filtered through the forest. The oak tree, old and tall, had been the perfect place to take a short nap. It also happened to be the perfect place to place a lone tombstone bearing the names of some of humanity's greatest and the Wings of Freedom. A tombstone hand-made to last until the last person on Earth took their final breath. It was cold, hard, and short. Nothing new for humans living in a time such as this.
Levi placed the sealed pine box wrapped in a Survey Corps cloak containing his letters in a hole at the base of the stone. It wasn't the only hole present, but the second could not be so easily fixed. Time would eventually create a scar. The pain would eventually stop.
_This is my last goodbye. It was an honor to have served with you all. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and I will avenge you one day. Until then, rest in peace, my friends._
Petral Ral
Eld Jinn
Gunther Schultz
Oluo Bozado
First Special Operations Squad of the Survey Corps under the leadership of Captain Levi Rivai.
Humanity's Finest soldiers may rest in peace knowing their noble sacrifice in battle will never be forgotten.
Thank you.
**For the glory of humanity.**
**Jiyuu no Tsubasa**
A single, lonely tear darkened the stone. It was the only one.
* * *
**Author's Note:**
> So, did I make you cry? I almost did just writing this. I'll leave you to decide if it was just a dream or a dream in another world...
>
> On the day I wrote this (Thurs 3 April 2014), we celebrated my grandmother's 85th birthday (it's not quite her birthday yet though), so in honor of that I am writing this lovely little piece to commemorate. I never know if this will be the last one, and that feeling is what drove this piece. It practically wrote itself.
>
> I do hope that you enjoyed this fic as I wrote it for myself and anyone else who wished to remember. If you liked it, please do leave me a comment about it in a review, PM, email, whatever. I'd love to know what you thought, if you liked it, if you cried, etc. For me, this fic marks the beginning of going back to writing. I haven't been able to write anything for what is essentially a year, but writing a sad fic comes naturally. I don't have to imagine those feelings. Again, I sincerely hoped that you enjoyed this. Write a review. Share it with a friend maybe. Do what you want.
>
> Thoughts on this fic: It was meant to be bittersweet. Hope the title didn't spoil it too much. Imagine Levi solemnly riding out to a small forest near the castle base and simply reflecting on the recent events. In my mind, Petra did get to die happily because Levi did, for once, let go and smile like a person who doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted to write a fic to both show how we all are affected by death, but I also wished to honor the original Squad Levi. Also, imagine whatever cake you like - I wanted you, the reader, to put yourself in Levi's mind. Make the sunset something you see yourself. Let that one tear be yours. It's what I did while writing it.
>
> Thank you for reading!
>
> There will be more fics coming soon, and I'm planning a long epic starring an OC and Levi. Well, one main OC and a few others. This fic is also available on fanfiction.net (same title) [username: SpyAgent001]
>
> Carry on,
>
> L
>
> Originally posted: 4 April 2014 | 5165770fea804c7bb14acb86be6a3a6a | ['afd7685225c24d8498641593711f27a8'] |
Only The Good Die Young
**Author's Note:**
> Dedicated to: My grandmother, Dorothy.
>
> For the full effect, listen to the song "In Any Other World" by MIKA before, during, or after reading this fic. Then read my post-fic author's note.
>
> Dislaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan, nor do I profit it any way from this fic.
>
> Also, I am used to spelling "Hanji" instead of "Hange," but the official spelling is that way.
* * *
Blazing red and orange fiercely streaked across the sky, but the troubled man below could not see nature's canvass. Neither could he see the sun begin its daily descent. Then again, he had seen many beautiful sunsets like this one…but the last sunset so colorful, so vibrant, so _alive_ had been a brutal contrast to the events of that day for the troubled man below. Conflicted as he was, peace would soon find him.
~ O ~
_Clang_. Two of the Survey Corps' senior female members were waltzing around the kitchen. Seniority may have gotten them out of Levi's cleaning chores early, but it certainly did not guarantee the ability to securely hold bowls, spoons, and flour. A paper with a recipe was tacked onto the wall. The sweet smell of their afternoon's work wafted through the warm air.
"Levi's going to love this, Hange. I just know it!" said Petra.
"He better. I've spent the entire afternoon away from my experiments to do this! That, and we just used up a ton of sugar preparing this..."
"Aw, Hange, but you know you it's worth it."
"It is, but Petra, just because I feel like Levi's my brother does not mean that he feels like I'm his sister. I swear, he usually thinks I'm his evil step-mother or something," Hange said.
"No, that's just…"
"Levi being Levi? Yeah, tell me about it. Maybe one day he'll lighten up a little."
"I think he did after the last expedition."
"Oh, you think? I thought it had the opposite effect."
"Hm…I don't think so. You'll never believe this, but I found him on the roof yesterday. I had gone looking for him, but he hadn't been in his office. He was writing a letter, but he usually writes them in his office. I almost interrupted him, but decided not to. He rarely gets moments to himself, but I couldn't resist watching him for a minute more. I'm glad I did because he smiled, Hange. He smiled. It was a real smile - one only for him. I couldn't believe it, but I was glad that he can at least smile for himself. Not that he ever does around the rest of us."
"I know. I wish he didn't think he needed to be so…stone-faced all the time. Hey, maybe we can get him to smile happily for us just once."
"That'll be the day. I hope I'll see it one day. If I ever do, then I can die happy."
"Oh! It's done. Stick it in the 'oven,' and I'll go get the others and the decorations. Will you go keep him busy for an hour or so?"
"Not that I need to as I'm sure he does that all by himself, but I'll go keep him company."
Hange gleefully skipped out of the room to round up the usual suspects. She couldn't wait to break out the decorations Petra had bought last week in the market. This might be their one and only chance to celebrate with all of them since the next expedition was only days away.
~ O ~
Petra's faint smile turned into a noticeable one when she knocked on her captain's door.
"Come in, Petra."
_Oh?_
"Good afternoon, Heichou. How are you?" Petra said as she closed the intricate door behind her. "And how did you-"
"You are the only one who knocks like that - softly three times. Just fine, but if Hange sends me one more request for a sketch artist to draw portraits of the next titans she is allowed to capture…" Levi let the faint threat linger.
Petra couldn't help but giggle at the thought of any sketch artist starting at titans all day much less being able to draw such dumb expressions.
"Levi, you should just approve it to make her happy. How many sketch artists can you think of who would possibly sit near titans? And to draw them? For Hange?"
"Oi, good point. Hm…maybe that'll be her birthday gift this year. Two titans with one fly-by, eh? Then she can't ask me for anything for at least a month," Levi schemed.
"Yeah, I remember last year when she wouldn't stop asking you what you got her for her birthday. This gift could top the new pen you finally gave her…"
"It better."
Comfortable silence hung in the air for a few moments.
"Petra, what did you need?"
"Oh, I just came to ask you if you needed anything, maybe like help with paperwork for an hour or two. I don't have much else to do."
"Are you sure?" Levi asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's that or try to break up the argument between Jean and Eren that I heard walking here…"
_Stupid brats. I should give them cleaning duty._
Yes, help would be nice. I hope you never have to do all this one day. It takes up too much damn time," said Levi.
"Here, let me take that stack."
They sat in friendly silence for at least an hour working on Special Operations Squad paperwork. Petra made sure to sign every single form that she needed to before she finally broke the silence an hour later.
"Hey, Levi?"
"Hm?" he absentmindedly responded as he continued reading.
"Are you hungry?"
"Surprise!" yelled everyone, including one Petra Ral standing next to one unsuspecting Captain Levi.
Everyone was actually shocked that he appeared slightly surprised - he never showed the slightest sign of it. |
1baaa9d467a54172b79ec16cd2d4a4b4 | ['afdb8d08bceb405f8ecfdf5101422825'] | And just like that, Johnny won. Kun went to sleep in the parents bedroom, alone for the first time and it was weird to be able to spread and sleep diagonally in this setting. He only knew that bedroom with Johnny taking half the space.
Of course, when it was 8am, hour at which they agreed to rotate, Johnny didn't wake Kun up. Instead, he started cooking breakfast in case the kids wake up. Which they didn't of course, it was too early since they went to bed around 5am.
On the 2nd day of August, about two months after mark overworking, both Johnny and Kun got a text from Jisung, telling them it was Mark's birthday today and not to forget to wish him a happy one. As if any of them would only wish him a happy birthday and not spoil him with thousands of gifts.
Kun smiled fondly at Jisung's text, thinking it was cute of him to make sure he doesn't forget, to make sure Mark feels loved. But on the table in front of Kun was a wrapped box which had been there for about three weeks now, ready.
But it wasn't the time to go see Mark and give him his present yet.
Later that day, around 8pm, Johnny got a video call from Jisung. It was quite rare but at least this time he was certain it wasn't a bad news call. Kun got the same call, it was a group video call. As soon as Johnny's screen stopped freezing, he saw Kun's face in huge, looking all lovey-dovey, probably because of the kids and his heart missed a beat. They bonded over the kids and their need, their want to protect them, so he tended to forget how beautiful Kun is.
He changed the camera and put Jisung's video in big, waved at him and waited for him to speak.
'' _It worked. Well he didn't agree in a heartbeat but —_ '' Jisung couldn't talk any more, Mark took his phone. '' _Are you sure it's no trouble ?_ '' started Mark, feeling obviously embarrassed and a bit shy as he continued '' _you're the only one I trust with them ..._ '' his voice kept getting smaller.
Johnny and Kun heard him very well nonetheless, and were really happy with what he said. Even if he was shy about it and didn't really want to acknowledge it, he did think and feel that way, which was already progress.
In the background Seoyeon was screaming '' _i wanna talk to dads too !_ ''
The week end next to Mark's birthday, Johnny came pick up Kun, relieved to see him with a gift as well. Johnny had been a bit worried to go overboard with it.
They didn't come to the kids' house too often, it was usually mostly texting with Jisung, but Johnny still knew the way by heart, and they arrived quickly.
When they rang the bell, Jisung yelled '' _Hyung they're heere !_ '' before opening the door and throwing himself in their arms. He had missed them quite a lot, more than he thought.
Mark came near to the door but a few step behind Jisung, nowhere near hugging, but he was scratching his arm and looking unsure, a mix between feeling sorry for how he was harsh at first and thankfulness for them watching over the kids for the week-end.
Jisung finally let the adults go and enter the flat, they both shook Mark's hand with a smile and congratulated him on his birthday again.
'' _What are those ?_ '' asked Jisung, looking at the gift boxes.
Johnny smirked and grabbed his and Kun's, before giving it to Mark, answering Jisung's question that way.
Mark's eyes opened widely, and he shook his head, '' _no, no, I can't, you're doing too much already._ ''.
'' _Never doing enough for you, Mark. You're the one doing way too much all the time you need some love and to be spoiled._ '' argued Kun, he wasn't going to let him go on his trip without the gifts.
So Mark agreed. He was all bark no bite, since the beginning he was trying not to get attached to the two elders, but even then he was glad they were cooking and taking care of the kids for a few hours, so he could work. And now he was glad they could babysit, so he could get away for a few days, something he would never have thought possible before.
He was especially glad he had such amazing siblings, he still couldn't believe Jisung traded homework for food, so he could keep the money Mark gave him for lunch so that he could pay for Mark's birthday trip. He was a bit less glad Seoyeon started selling cakes and lemonade again, despite him forbiddening it last year, but the intention was still there and warmed up his heart.
'' _Come on, open them._ '' Seoyeon wanted to see the gifts maybe more than Mark.
So he did, he opened Johnny's first, it were nice headphones. Looking way too expensive. Mark looked at it in disbelief, then looked at Johnny for an explanation, why would he give him something like that ? Why would he give him that much ?
He didn't notice Johnny and Kun holding hands, waiting for his judgment. It seemed like skinship became a habit when they were in this flat, like here it was comfortable and carefree enough.
'' _I thought since you're travelling alone you'd like to listen to music. Was I wrong ?_ ''
'' _No, oh my god no, I would it's just, it's too much, they're too nice for me..._ ''
'' _Nonsense. Open mine._ '' Kun barged in.
So Mark opened Kun's gift and started doing that i-don't-deserve-it look but Kun was not having any of it. He immediately opened the box and put the Polaroid into Mark's hand. | 14d6fb3baf49435d89876cb6581041d5 | ['afdb8d08bceb405f8ecfdf5101422825'] | **_ The trial against Kim Doyoung, presumed murder of two young men will end tomorrow. The case denouement is all we can hope for, so that the memory of those two boys can rest in peace.**
_ _ _ _ _ _
Objection, your Honor, my client, the prossecution, proof, alibi, evidence, defense, all those words were boucing in Johnny's head. He had to use the right one, at the right time. With all the other words that went with them, he couldn't mess up his plea. He had to be better than he ever was, for Doyoung.
Johnny was awake for about three hours now, and those thoughts were on repeat since. He had to be good. Doyoung was innocent so if he ended up in prison it would be Johnny's fault, and he couldn't handle it. Of course he couldn't handle Doyoung going to jail, or being away from him for such a long time too. For god's sake, what if he said something dumb ? What if he screwed up in front of the jury and they take Doyoung away from him ?
Johnny believed in his capabilites, in his plea, and in his husband's innocence, but the stakes were too high, so high that he was now panicking, distressed. He didn't have the right to miss, more than ever, and it petrified him.
However, once in the trial court, he was disconcertingly calm. And a rock solid professionalism while Doyoung kept giving him the most adorable smiles ever. He could feel how much trust he had in him at that moment. It was overwhelming.
But maybe thanks to this inconditional trust, and his need to not let his lover down, he did an amazing plea. The best of his career. Even the judge seemed impressed. The prossecution had a lot of evidences against Doyoung, a few witness testified under oath that they saw Doyoung at the pink paradise motel that night, Johnny broke their arguments one by one, destoyed them. A n authentic virtuoso.
They barely got out of the court that Johnny already saw the horde of journalists ready to gather testimonies before stating :
**_ The trial against Kim Doyoung, about the pink paradise's double homicide just finished. The jury is now deliberating, the sentence will be known soon.**
_ _ _ _ _ _
**_ You were too sexy at court.**
Johnny rolled his eyes, he couldn't believe that Doyoung's firsts words to him after getting freed would be that. But he chose to ignore them and just hug him tightly, just enjoy being with him.
**_ Johnny ?**
**_ Yes bub ?**
**_ Thank you. Thank you for always believing in my innocence and getting me out of this nightmare.**
Johnny smiled tenderly to him, he didn't have to reply to it, all he had to do was to show him he was there for him, and always will. And he could do that by kissing his forehead and embrace him tightly, for instance.
Two steps away from the couple were the same horde of shameless journalists, already filming for their news show, to inform the population whom could only live through other people's pain. On their screens, there was a journalist on foreground saying :
**_ The pink paradise motel trial is finaly over. After more than a month, the news anchor Kim Doyoung is finaly proclaimed innocent and can go home to his family. The death of those young men seemed to really be a double suicide.**
Whereas in the background, but in a very visible way, Doyoung and Johnny were hugging.
_ _ _ _ _ _
During the next few months, more victims were found dead in filthy motels, poisoned. Every time the news talked about it, Johnny changed the channel. He couldn't hear about it anymore.
Meanwhile, somewhere in a shitty motel two people were talking, one clearly more afraid than the other.
**_ Pick a vial,** said Doyoung.
**Author's Note:**
> disclaimer : for the murder itself, i got inspired by sherlock's 'a study in pink'. It's sightly different because Doyoung doesn't get paid, nor is sick. But the idea of having two vial of poisons and giving the choice to the victim comes from sherlock's very own taxi driver/murderer.
>
> Thanks for reading that fic, I hope you like it (: |
815234fbec584d778e4a7ce2101f9bf4 | ['afe643f50fe94fb2a3b2bf920e69bd77'] | Please don’t hurt me
I just want to be with someone
But I push them all away
Isn’t it terrible
I can’t love, I can’t feel
Yet I still cry my eyes out
When you leave me
My thoughts get to me
And then I cry
And then I just wish
I could
Feel something
I’m so sorry
25. I Miss You (CLEAN)
I miss you
Miss you so bad
I don’t forget you
Oh, it’s so sad
I won’t see you again
Or for a while, at least
It’s depressing
You were my bestie
But now you’re gone
I don’t even know
If you’re okay or not
Because we can’t talk
I’m so sorry
You’re my best friend
And I miss you so bad
In the end…
26. I Never Ask For Much (CLEAN)
I never ask for much
I never even ask for love
I don’t want to feel
I don’t want to care
But I do anyway
I wish you knew
How much I cared
Love, I don’t dare
Obsession’s the only thing I know
All this goes to show
I’m just a monster
That’s just me
Society’s telling me to change
But at the same time
Why don’t you just stay the same?
You’re perfect
I’m not
We’ve all got our flaws
But mine, you see
Are the worst of all
Under a pretty face
Behind a smile
Is a monster
Coming after you
Set my demons lose
Loose on me
But maybe
On you
27. If I Closed My Eyes (EXPLICIT)
Maybe if I closed my eyes
I wouldn’t cry so hard
Let the tears fall from my eyes
Through my hands
Onto the ground
Maybe if I close my eyes
Maybe the pain would fade
Maybe they wouldn’t see me crying
Wait, on the inside I’m hiding
A broken heart
A shattered dream
Something dreadful
Someone’s screaming
Inside my head
They want you dead
You should kill yourself, please
Don’t hurt me
I’m scared of judgement
Scared to be alone
This fear
Inside my mind
Rising and consuming me
My broken dreams
The nonexistent hope
Maybe things will get better
But no
They get worse
The torture
The pain
Bleeding on the inside
Dying mentally
You can’t trust him
Whisper the voices inside
They read your journal
There’s nowhere left to hide
These terrible thoughts
Things I wouldn’t think
If someone was looking
Inside my brain
So sad
So depressed
They sat to me
When they see me
Lying broken
In my dreams
You’re there too
Not crying with me
But crying because of something
No one can see
Inside me
The darker side
Where dreams are lost
Where anger sleeps
And secrets don’t keep
Memories inside
Waiting to be let out
By me
By you
Who knows
But they’re dangerous
To expose
So please
Before you let them out
Think of the others
That’ll hurt
By the things you let loose
28. If I Had One Superpower (CLEAN)
If I had one superpower
It would be the ability to not care
Not care about you
Not care about me
Free to be
Myself at last
Not a care in the world
But alas, you see
I care all too much
I cared about you
Look where it got me
In too deep
I tried not to care
But really, I did
In the end
I fell for you
I fell hard
Crashing to the ground
Where are my wings?
They’re broken, dear
But I’ll give mine to you
So don’t despair
If your wings are broken
Please take mine so yours can open
I’ll stay by your side
Through the night
I don’t care if you’re messed up
‘Cause I am too
So please, remember me
My dear, don’t fall
You’re the greatest
Of them all
The fall was taken
By me, by you
I care, I do, I do
I wish I didn’t
But I do
I’m so used to being punished
For feeling something
Do I dare call this love?
No, I don’t
But it isn’t obsession
I can’t put my feelings into words
So I put them on paper
Don’t leave, don’t leave
I don’t want to be lonely
I can’t help wondering if this
Is the last time that I’ll see your face
Your tears are just the pouring rain
Wish I could say something
Something that doesn’t sound insane
But lately, I don’t trust my brain
You tell me that I’ll never change
So I just say nothing
I wish I said hi
When you said my name
Those would’ve been my last words to you
No goodbyes
I know I’ll never see you again
But, I mean, it’s fair, I guess
I cried over you
I don’t want to be obsessed
I’m not, I swear
But everyone says
“You can’t love”
I can’t, really
They all look at me in pity
“What a monster”
They say to me
“Incapable of loving”
“Leave it be”
You’re the only person
Who’s ever called me beautiful
So childish, so innocent
The way you said it
Made me laugh
Tears pouring down my face
Like raindrops
Damn, if only you knew
How much I
Cared about
You
29. I'm Sorry (CLEAN)
I’m sorry
For all the times
I fell apart
Into little pieces on the ground
I’m sorry
For all the times
You had to pick me up
To dust me off
To help me off the ground
I’m sorry
For all the times
I couldn’t help you
When you fell down
I’m sorry
For all the times
I screwed things up
I’m sorry
I wasn’t there for you
When you were there for me
I’m sorry
I can’t help you
I’m sorry
If it’s too late
To try and salvage
What’s left of us
I’m sorry
For being a screw-up
I’m sorry
For not being enough
I’m sorry
That I’m new to this
I’m sorry
That I let you down
I’m sorry
You couldn’t forgive me | a5ff031bbe8f4adfbdb7400abbb8434b | ['afe643f50fe94fb2a3b2bf920e69bd77'] | It does, it does
But I pretend
What is the real cause?
I think not
I’ll leave the rest up to you
For you to decide
What is the truth
And what
Is the lie
36. Please Don't Hurt Me (CLEAN)
Please don’t hurt me
Why do I ask?
We both know how this ends
At the last
Time you saw me
Unable to speak
I wish I could tell you how I feel
But I’m silent, quiet
Can’t say a word
Without getting hurt
My heart’s been broken
Too many times
I want to stop living a lie
A lie that someone’s
There for me
Truth is that nobody’s there for me
Nobody cares
But maybe you do
My best friend
You told me to stop
Please don’t end
This life you’re living
There’s nothing better
Than you and me
Together
Scratch that last part
We’ll never be
What I feel
Inside me
I want you to care
You might, or not
You told me you care
But really, do you?
You pretend you know me
Everyone does
But nobody notices me
Nobody will talk to me
They tell me to go away
I guess it’s fair
I screwed it up
For you, for me, for everyone
I’m sorry, so sorry
I didn’t mean to hurt you
Please don’t leave me
You’re all I have left
My best friend…
37. Pretend (EXPLICIT)
It’s easy to pretend
Pretend you’re not falling apart
On the inside
I pretend a lot
I can’t pretend anymore
Pretend
That I’m not broken
Pretend
You didn’t hurt me
With your words
Pretending
I’m okay
Pretending
I want to live
To see another day
Pretending to be fine
When, on the inside
I’m not in control
I pretend a lot
38. Real Boy (CLEAN)
If I were a real boy
I wouldn’t wear a chest binder
If I were a real boy
I wouldn’t get yelled at
When I walk into the “wrong bathroom”
If I were a real boy
People wouldn’t call me she
If I were a real boy
Maybe you would love me
You said to me
“I only like real boys”
Do you know how much that hurts?
No, you don’t
‘Cause you’re not me
You can’t see
How much your words affect me
I’ll never be
What you wanted…
39. Restriction (EXPLICIT)
Sometimes I think restriction is like detention
You cry the first time
Then you don’t
Sometimes I think restriction is like cutting
It hurts the first time
Then you stop feeling
Sometimes I think restriction is like getting restrained
You care the first time
Then you stop caring
Every single day
The monster inside my head
Screaming to let go
To not care
Do what I want
Not go anywhere
Hit someone
I need to tell someone
What I’m thinking
Someone to confide in
I try
I just freak them out
One blocked me
One nearly got me sent to court
Another one got me in treatment
The fourth one
Got me put on restriction
They read my journal
They fucking read it
I thought it was safe
To put things on paper
I was obviously wrong
Nothing’s safe here
40. Sometimes I Wish (CLEAN)
Sometimes I wish
Someone’s demons
Would dance with my own
Sometimes I wish
I had someone’s hand to hold
Sometimes I wish
I could look into your eyes
One last time
I want to let my monsters free
Set them on you
Let you feel the pain I felt
When you left me
If my demons were free
Maybe the pain would stop
The pain inside my head
The pain inside my heart
It’s so hard
To keep these terrors in
It’d be so easy
To let go
Of reality
Sink into the black nothingness
Of the black abyss
The black hole
That is my heart
Or where it used to be
You took that from me
So long ago
I don’t want to hurt you
I just want to go
I want to be with you
Through the rain and snow
Through the ups and downs
Through the night
Through everything
You and me
Just please
Remember that I care
Care about you
You don’t care about me
Slip into the darkness
Away from everything
Take you with me
Forever together
There’s an ex in next
There’s an end in friend
There’s an over in lover
And there’s nothing left
41. Sorry (EXPLICIT)
I’m sorry
For all the tears
I’m sorry
For all the pain
I’m sorry
It had to be this way
I’m sorry
That I gave in
To my demons
The monsters
The tears
The pain
The heartbreak
I wish
We could be okay
For just one day
I wish
We could be friends
I wish
My demons
Would go away
I wish
That I could see you again
I’m sorry
That I couldn’t get to you
I’m sorry
That I had to leave you
I’m sorry
That I wasn’t there
I’m sorry
That I couldn’t stop you
I’m sorry
That I couldn’t save you
I’m sorry
That you did it
I’m sorry
That you’re gone
I’m sorry
That you had to end it
I’m sorry
But you’re gone
I’m sorry
That I got that bad
It’ll be okay
Maybe not today
Maybe not tomorrow
But eventually
It will be
Just listen to me
It’s too late
You can’t save me
I’m already gone
Already there
Already lost
I’m sorry
That you feel this way
I’m sorry
To this day
That I let you slip through my fingers
That I let you get away
I’m sorry
That you decided it was the end
I’m sorry
That I let you down
42. sUiCidE
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Just don't read this chapter
Sometimes you just want to die
Stick a knife through your eye
Slit your wrists
Swallow some pills
Put a gun to your head
Pull the trigger
And then you’re dead
Sometimes you just want to die |
cc162b2ff9a44dba8fc0facc79d3032a | ['aff6685aedcc417ab0c1c70ba131e6ee'] | She had to admit that just by looking at Kirigiri’s pussy that the detective was rather aroused, as the sides of her entrance seemed to swell slightly, and looked to be rather wet as well as her clit being erect, and the fashionista could not help but look up, eying the detective’s body as she did so. She could honestly say that she had to admire Kirigiri’s body. She had a somewhat pale complexion that gave her skin a creamy white tint and she also had big sparkling amethyst-coloured eyes along with long light lavender-coloured hair that Junko could not help but find captivating. Her pale complexion against her areola and nipples, with the creamy white mixing in with the pink seemed to give off a somewhat grey colour. However, what the fashionista found most captivating about the detective was her breasts. Junko knew that she had a bigger bust size than the detective. Junko had a DD-cup bust size, and from what she could see from Kirigiri, she guessed that she had to be a C-cup. However, Junko could not help but envy Kirigiri for her smaller bust-size. Her own breasts were part of the reason that people tended to lust after her. However, Kirigiri did not have that problem, though she was sure that that was in part due to her cold demeanour and how she tended to distance herself from those she did not know, and that undoubtedly put a lot of guys off even trying to approach her. In any case, it was part of the reason why she found the detective so attractive. She often wondered if it was partially the reason that she had fallen for the couple.
Kirigiri was obviously a strong girl, and Junko could admire that. Heck, Kirigiri was the one that seemed to be taking charge right now, and as far as her interest in girls went, Junko would not mind surrendering her freedom for such a powerful girl. Kirigiri seemed to ooze with authority, and seemed ready to take charge of any given situation if the need arose. Heck, on the first day of class when certain members of the class seemed to be ready to fight one another, it had been Kirigiri who had stepped in and calmed things down, and remembering the tone of her voice, Junko could tell that the detective was just daring those involved to try and challenge her, and it had the effect of causing them to back down, as they did not want risk testing her patience since, despite looking calm, there had been something intimidating about her that told everyone that it was no such a good idea to challenge her. Junko just could not help but worship her. As weird as it sounded, she could admit that she sometimes wished that she had a body like Kirigiri’s, even if just because she did not want to put up with lecherous fools that tended only to think more with their genitals than their brains. However, it did not mean that she would change herself, though one could argue that it was because her manager for the modelling company she worked for would not let her, it was also Junko’s choice because she felt that troublesome or not, her breasts were still a part of her being whether she liked it or not, and to have had breast-reduction surgery, to her, felt like she was trying to masquerade and someone she was not.
Anyway, she was brought out of her thoughts as she suddenly felt a pain, as she guessed that Naegi had slammed his cock into her ass, and she could not help but wince, as the pain felt a bit more excruciating than she had anticipated, but it was nothing that could cause her to scream, it just felt uncomfortable.
“Are you okay, Enoshima-san?” Kirigiri asked, breaking character as she looked down at the fashionista in concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine, that just caught me off guard, that’s all,” Junko said, also breaking character, and she gave the detective a reassuring look, and she turned and nodded at Naegi, “Feel free to keep going.”
“Are you sure?” Naegi said, giving the fashionista a look of concern.
“Yeah, I can handle it,” Junko said with a reassuring smile.
Both Naegi and Kirigiri nodded before getting back in character, and Junko also got back in character, and Kirigiri fake-glared down at Junko.
“Now lick,” she commanded simply.
Junko nodded and brought out her tongue and brushed it against the side of Kirigiri’s folds, and slowly moved upwards before reaching the top, and then she gave clit a flick with her tongue before she repeated the process with the other side, once again, ending with flicking her tongue on Kirigiri’s clit and then she went back to the original side and did the same. While this was going on, she also felt Naegi move his cock out of her ass before thrusting it back in, practically slamming his groin against her ass, and she had to admit that it was a bit painful, but she managed to ignore it and proceed with what she was doing, eliciting moans from the horny detective. Naegi then continued to thrust his cock in and out of her ass while firmly holding her hips, and after a few minutes, Junko had managed to get comfortable with the sensation of having his dick pounding her ass, as the pain seemed to lessen, or maybe she had just grown accustomed to the pain. Either way, she found it easier to ignore as time went on. | 0f0eb8ad449d4798954837de8a3d401e | ['aff6685aedcc417ab0c1c70ba131e6ee'] | She supposed that the faculty neglecting the Super High School Level Students did have its upside, though she still did not agree with it, as she knew that those with less moral sense could easily take advantage of it. Sure, it worked for Naegi and Kirigiri as they weren’t up to anything dangerous, but a Super High School Level Student who was secretly a criminal, or had some nefarious plan of some kind could easily abuse the protection that the faculty offered them, and it could lead to some sort of disaster. However, anyone who told the faculty this would be ignored and dismissed. It was as if the faculty believed that the possibility of someone with talent being a criminal was inconceivable to them, even if there was evidence to suggest it, but instead of turning them over to the proper authorities, they instead suppressed the evidence, and in the event the student’s criminal activities were discovered, and the faculty could no longer cover it up, they would throw them to the wolves in order to save face while feigning ignorance.
“I don’t suppose it’ll be too much to ask for that you have a secret basement that doubles as a sex dungeon?” the fashionista asked as she forcibly changed the subject she had been thinking about.
“Sorry, I’m afraid not,” Kirigiri said with a laugh, knowing that Junko was only joking.
“Wouldn’t that be something, though?” Naegi put in, also laughing at Junko, “A basement in our dorm rooms that doubles as a BDSM dungeon. It sounds like something an author of a story would put in just for plot convenience.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Kirigiri said, and Junko also nodded, “However, unfortunately we don’t have those sorts of luxuries, so we just improvised with the bed.”
“And, Enoshima-san, once again, you can back out if you feel like it or if we go too far,” Naegi said, and Junko was surprised that he had brought that up again since he had already made that perfectly clear, “Like in that roleplay we just did, if we go too far, you can even slug us across the face.”
“Naegi-kun, I know, you told me this before,” the fashionista said with reassurance, though she knew that she should be annoyed, she found herself appreciating his concern.
If she was going into a dom/sub relationship with herself as the sub, then she’d rather have her master being overly concerned for her safety and well-being rather than throwing caution to the wind and she ended up emotionally scarred as a result.
“I know, but I’m still worried that we may somehow accidentally hurt you,” the lucky student replied looking somewhat concerned.
“And she’ll let us know if we do,” Kirigiri said, clearly in an attempt to set Naegi’s mind at ease, and she then turned to face the fashionista, “Won’t you, Enoshima-san?”
“Of course I will,” Junko replied with a nod.
“Now that that’s out of the way, I think that it’s time that we get out of here,” the detective said as she started to climb to her feet, “As for our next “session”, come to us whenever you feel that you’re ready, and we can negotiate the terms of our arrangement.”
“Tomorrow at the earliest, come to one of our dorm rooms, if we’re not in one, then we’ll be in the other’s dorm room,” Naegi said as he also stood up, and Junko followed suit.
“Well, I made plans to meet up with Nana-chan tomorrow,” Junko replied with a sigh, “She wants to show me this new fighting game that just came out the other day. She managed to book a copy in advance and wants me to help test it.”
“That’s okay, it doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” Kirigiri said assuredly, “Like I said, whenever you feel you’re ready.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t think that it’ll take all day, so I think I can come after I’ve finished up with Nana-chan,” Junko said in understanding.
“Of course, it’ll just be to negotiate the terms of our arrangement, nothing more,” Naegi said seriously, “We don’t do this sort of thing all the time.”
Junko just nodded in understanding.
“No worries, I’m cool with that,” the fashionista said simply, and then she looked at Naegi’s cock, which had gone flaccid, and then smiled before she looked at Kirigiri, who just nodded as it seemed that she understood just what Junko was planning.
“You know, Naegi-kun,” she said with a devious smile, “For someone who seems so average, I can’t help but notice how huge your cock is.”
Naegi’s eyes widened in pure shock after hearing this, and his hands seemed to reflexively move in front of his crotch, as if he was covering it up.
“C-c-c-come on, Enoshima-san, i-i-i-it’s not that b-b-big,” the lucky student stuttered as his face lit up in a bright shade of pink, signifying his embarrassment.
“No, I have to agree with her, Mako-kun,” Kirigiri said in agreement, “One would never think that someone like you would have a cock that big.”
“It’s not big, okay,” Naegi protested in embarrassment, “I-i-i-it only seems that way because of how short I am.”
“Really, so you think that between eight to ten inches isn’t big?” Junko said as she turned to look at Kirigiri, who just nodded, and she then reached out her hand and grabbed Naegi’s shaft and started to stroke it gently with her long nails, taking care not to draw blood, “You really are one lucky guy, Naegi-kun, and no matter how much you deny it, I know that that is the truth.” |
5f90a539a9e9400f996308a082816144 | ['b005c7a8c3364c29bd25607672e3868b'] | She’s well aware of the possibility of losing their baby, and quite frankly, she’s terrified of the prospect. Elle has loved the child in her womb since Day 1—she’ll trade her every breath, her every life, just to make sure that their baby is safely brought into the world.
_-x-_
Tom Hiddleston and Wife Nearly Lose First Child to Miscarriage
_Hiddlesworth is very much intact, both actors confirm. This is after rumors started circulating that there has been a recent rift in Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth’s years of friendship, dating back to their years as Asgardian brothers from the very first Thor movie._
_With Tom a no-show at Chris’ premiere of his directorial debut project, fans and press alike were set wondering if an end is soon to be put on the two’s friendship. Earlier this week though, Chris is the first to clear the air, with a tweet and eventually, at a magazine interview._
_“Our friendship is very much intact. We actually just laughed the rumors off that we’re ending our years of friendship. My brother from another mother and I just don’t think that that’s ever going to happen. Hell, our wives are best friends, and doubt not that Tom and Elle’s baby are going to be a best bud to our three kids. Elsa and I understand that Tom wants to personally attend to Elle, and that’s what we would want for the couple, too,” Chris explained in the interview._
_Just yesterday, it was Tom’s turn, through his publicist, Luke Windsor to officially issue a statement—with so much juicier details._
_In an e-mail, Luke told the members of the press, “The past weeks have been tough on Tom, and even more for Elle. The pregnancy has been escalated to a high-risk one, with Elle’s medical team of maternal-fetal health experts placing her on an indefinite hospital bed rest. Tom is personally attending to his wife at the hospital, staying with her 24/7. Tom is requesting for understanding from his colleagues and friends, as he had to cancel a couple of commitments following their miscarriage scare.”_
_Everyone can breathe in relief now that our much-loved Hiddlesworth is very much intact—or maybe not, as Tom and his beauty and brains of a wife are dealing with a high-risk pregnancy._
-x-
Elle could feel her husband’s agitation as they waited for the nurse to buzz them. She could guess why: Tom has almost developed an aversion toward hospital examination rooms. They had both lost count how many times (sometimes, even within just a single day), she had to have ultrasounds and blood extractions.
While the laboratory exams have become less frequent than they were when she was initially put on hospital bed rest almost five weeks ago, Tom—and even she, can find them a bit daunting.
“You look ravishing nevertheless, Mr. Hiddleston, but I love it better when you’re not sporting a knotted forehead,” she remarked amusedly.
Her husband looked up from his face being buried on the side of her tummy. “Let’s just say I’m trying not to look too ravishing for you, Mrs. Hiddleston.” Tom winked, making her roll her eyes.
“You look so worried, Tom. Really.” Elle sighed. She regrets making her husband paranoid and anxious. Tom has all his life been of regal composure, until her pregnancy—specifically, the bleeding a few weeks ago. “Aren’t you excited?” She asked cheerily, lovingly caressing her husband’s curls.
It wasn’t pretend, as she really is excited about the check-up.
“Not exactly, darling.” Tom frowned. “But you look excited. Why would you be so excited?” Disbelief was in his voice.
“Hey. It’s also supposed to be my prenatal for my fifth month!” She grinned.
Tom just frowned even more, still puzzled at her expression.
Elle continued. “We might get to know if our little one’s a boy or a girl!”
Tom’s eyes widened, his body straightening. He looked at her in shock.
“Truly, darling? Are you sure about that? How could I have missed that detail from your doctor?” Tom looked excited now, too.
“It was actually Elsa and Scarlett who told me so. And Emma, too.”
This made Tom grin. “Oh, god. That’s a really good news, Mommy. I thought it’s just one of those heart stopping-routine check ups where your doctors seem to be trying to induce waiting-induced anxiety.” He gave her a smack.
Elle giggled. “No, it’s not, Daddy.”
“Ehehehe… I can’t put to words how excited I am, Mommy.” Elle’s quite happy that Tom’s gloomy expression is gone.
“I want him to look exactly like you. Well, not exactly—I hope it’s a black hair color for him. The rest of his features could be all yours.”
“He, darling? What made you think that our little one’s a boy? Though I wouldn’t mind that our little one takes after me. I ‘know’ though that our little one’s going to be my princess, as you are my queen.” There was certainty, to the point of arrogance in Tom’s voice.
She pouted in defiance. “Our little one’s a boy!” Elle insisted.
Tom chuckled in amusement.
“A boy or a girl, as long as our little one is safe and healthy, and you, too, Mommy, then I’m good. I just have to say though that most of first borns on my side—both Mum’s and Dad’s are girls. Even in yours, too, right? So the probability’s that we’re having a girl.” Her husband sounded like he was explaining to a child.
“Ours might be an outlier in the statistics.” Oh dear, this is unreasonably making her upset.
“Hmmm… I’d rest my case, but then, I’m so tempted to make a bet, darling.” .
“What bet?” Her curiosity’s piqued.
Tom glanced at her.
“Whoever guesses our little one’s sex right gets the ‘exclusive naming rights’.” From the looks of it, Tom already has a name in mind for a baby girl.
She raised her chin defiantly. “Deal.”
-x- | 5ffde1e9ec2d4d7a879c34104e40214d | ['b005c7a8c3364c29bd25607672e3868b'] | Aunt Martha sat on the chair not too far from the bed. “I know, darling. And I know, too, that you’re doing this because of Cal. Oh, the pay’s probably handsome, but more than that, I would say that you signed up for it because the project will help a lot of children,” the old woman who has been a mother figure to her in the past years smiled knowingly.
Ysobel smiled back. “Cal… He made me see a lot of things differently. Before, I was quite scared of creatures called babies and children.” She chuckled. “But now, seeing how fragile these beautiful gifts could be, it makes me want to do what I can to help them.”
“Oh, that’s your maternal instinct kicking in, Ysobel. This little handsome man may be missing you a lot, but he will be certainly proud of you.”
“I sure hope so, Aunt Martha.” Ysobel scooped Cal in her arms, kissing her son’s cheeks, then the top of his head. “Mommy will have to go to work now, my love. I promise to make it up to you once the project’s finished, hmmm?” She said in her gentlest voice as she hugged her baby. She looked at Aunt Martha. “I have to leave now, Auntie,” she informed apologetically. She usually puts Cal to sleep first before she leaves for London in the morning, but this morning, her son doesn’t seem interested in sleep.
“Oh, let me have our little Cal. He and grandma will play a bit, then he can probably go to sleep.” The on-going project with a non-government organization for children that she’s working on requires her to be at their London office for four weeks, as she would be needing constant, close coordination with them as her research design progresses. The organization offered accommodation requirements while she was in London, but Ysobel refused (much to the puzzlement of her client) as she is breastfeeding Cal, and she can’t really take being away from him even just overnight. Hence, she has to endure hours and hours of travelling from Oxfordshire to London and vice versa on weekdays.
Ysobel transferred Cal to her arms. “I love you, Cal. I’ll see you later, my love.” She kissed her baby again. “Thank you so much, Aunt Martha. I honestly don’t know what to do if we don’t have you and Uncle Bill.” She hugged the old woman, who fondly tapped her cheek in turn.
“You’re always welcome, Ysobel.”
Ysobel then set for London.
-x-
“You will be able to join the implementation in Guinea, but probably for only a week, right, Dr. Caldwell?” Tom asked his ex-girlfriend. He wanted to laugh at the shock in Ysobel’s face when they saw each other again after more than half a year. The organization that hired Ysobel as a consultant-researcher is changing its Country Director—with his sister, Emma, now occupying the post. Prior to Emma formally accepting the post, her sister already asked for his ‘generosity’, hence, enlisting him as a new donor—by far their biggest one.
Interestingly, he’ll be working with Ysobel yet again, a fact that he learned only the other week during the turnover of duties to Emma.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr. Hiddleston,” Ysobel replied formally. _What happened to your breathy ‘Tom’, love?_ The arrogant, naughty side of him wanted to ask, but he and Yosbel weren’t alone in the room.
He raised his brow. “Why is that? I’ve worked with you before, and you’re quite hands-on with your development campaign projects, Dr. Caldwell.” This really puzzled him as Ysobel can be quite obsessive-compulsive when it comes to work. She just _needs_ to oversee the implementation of the researches and campaign strategies that she formulates, even immersing herself in project sites with horrid conditions.
Ysobel inhaled deeply. “I have prior commitments, Mr. Hiddleston,” was her short reply.
Emma decided to intervene. “But the former director mentioned that you’re on leave at the University. Can you really not squeeze in the activity in your schedule? I know you have your hands full with probably a lot of other consultancy work, but I really hope you can reconsider, Ysobel,” Emma flashed her a charming smile. Her ex and sister have actually been very good friends. Emma haggled even more. “I know you’re not after the money really, but we can allocate a corresponding compensation for this request, Ysobel. With you overseeing the implementation, we’ll be well-assured of the quality of work.” Emma’s persuasion skills are definitely being put to test.
Ysobel smiled apologetically. “I’m really sorry, Emma, but I can’t join this one. Though should you be willing to allocate budget for implementors, I can recommend one or two competent individuals to work with you.”
“But—“ Emma wanted to object, but he cut his sister.
Tom tilted his chin. “It’s alright, Emma. We can’t really impose on Dr. Caldwell, as this isn’t part of what she initially signed up for. But yes, your recommendations will be quite helpful, Dr. Caldwell.” He stared at her intently.
Ysobel just nodded in acknowledgement. The three of them, along with five more working group representatives, discussed the rest of the agenda for that day. Ysobel left right after the meeting, as she will be travelling back to Oxfordshire – another puzzling detail, as accommodations may be arrange for her in London. Tom though decided to just shrug it off.
-x-
“Ysobel looks really great,” Emma who was sitting on the passenger seat suddenly commented. They’re in his Jag, on their way to Emma and her husband’s place.
He shrugged dismissively. But yes, Ysobel does look damn great—more beautiful and sexier than before. There’s something that changed in his ex that he couldn’t quite place.
He saw Emma roll her eyes from the mirror. |
ec618ce6e9ad404db563dba75f549c73 | ['b01dd8b0255142f795cc9a513b6f170b'] | Four see them. Four even tells Six a little about what it’s like to talk to the dead when he asks, but the other seems to go a little quiet when its brought up.
Six isn’t sure how long he stays there, but after a while the soft strumming of the violin seems to fade away and the crackle of the radio abruptly cuts out. Four seems to already be asleep, slumped against the edge of his bed, face pressed against the wooden slats. Six takes his leave, tiptoeing down the corridor, edging the door to his room open slowly. He doesn’t even stop to take off his socks, just slips into the sheets, blazer and all.
When he awakes, he’s once again alone. But this time, his vision seems to be blurred by a thick, grey smog. He feels his lungs splutter as they fill with the substance and his nose wrinkles as it registers the smell of freshly burnt toast, like when Number Two once tried to fix them a midnight snack. Six sits bolt upright in bed, his head swimming. Has Two burnt toast again? Is it four setting his socks on fire again? He clambers out of his bed, swaying slightly. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he mutters to himself, swaying slightly as he takes hold of the door handle and twists.
Outside his room is much, much worse. The old structure of the Hargreeves mansion means that the wooden beams take little coaxing of the walls and are now enveloped in flames as they swing loosely from the ceiling. He tries to remember when his father taught him about these kind of situations, but his mind is a mess and his eyes sting as the smoke tendrils reach out to grabs at him. He pulls the collar of his shirt over his mouth and raises a hand to cover his head from falling debris.
He manages to make it down the corridor to Sevens room, but its empty, covers thrown back and dressing gown missing. Where was she? Had she already woken up? Had she left without him?
“No no no no no no,” he whispered, the tendrils of his insides bubbling under the surface with panic. He runs to Fours room, but that too is empty, deserted. One by one he tries each of his siblings’ rooms, only to find them vacant, with slippers and dressing gowns absent from their bedside resting places.
Six is aware he’s crying, the tears burning on his skin as they cascade down his face. He starts to scream, shout, calling out for his family. In a last desperate attempt, he tries the stairs, and find they’re not yet engulfed by flames. The middle of the hallway seems deserted and just behind it he can see the door, the fire licking at it. He feels the small burst of skin as a tentacle protrudes from his chest, encircling his body and threatening to squeeze out the last remaining wisps of air. Six knows he only has minutes, four minutes at most, until the staircase collapses so he clings to the barrier and pulls himself down, his feet weakening by the second.
He reaches the foyer and collapses, his legs giving way beneath him. He tries to crawl towards the door but his vision is darkening and his voice is giving way. “Seven!” he screams, a final attempt to call to his siblings “Five! Three! Anyone!”
He sprawls out on the floor and tries to catch his breath, curling in on himself. The tentacles inside him embrace his shivering body, as if holding him together. He stares up at the flaking ceiling, just as the first beam slips towards him and a sense of de ja vu washes over his body.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Just a few things because I'm aware my writing can be quiet vague sometimes:
> 1) The Hargreeves siblings really do love Ben, he just fades into the background very easily and I could see him being temporarily forgotten about in an event such as this.
> 2) The Klaus and Ben bromance is very slowly but surely emerging guys.
> 3) Five isn't in this much because, even though I love him, he's a struggle to write as a background character as he can very easily be reduced to stereotypes. Also I was thinking of writing a one-shot about five that would slot into this chapter.
> 4) The chapter title is taken from Millstone by Brand New (and it's an awful pun for this chapter, I'm sorry)
3. make peace with the stars
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "It’s five months after they become famous that the slowest death of Number Six begins."
The third time Six dies, it all happens a lot slower.
It makes a change, he supposes, when looking back on all of them. A stark stand out in a bloody collage of haphazard deaths. Not that that fact makes it any less painful in his plethora of memories.
He’s eleven at the time, and yet to have his growth spurt. The beginnings of puberty have begun to wrap themselves around most of his siblings- Number One’s voice has dropped, and for about a month it kept breaking in the middle of sentences. Number Two and Four teased him about it for three more months, following him around the house and mimicking him- they stopped when he threatened to knock them through the wall into the street. Number Three enforces a strict no-boys rule in her room, and she has started to collect teen magazines, pinning various posters of various different body bands on her wall. | 3982e73772bb46e18b786f154d7a9f32 | ['b01dd8b0255142f795cc9a513b6f170b'] | So he doesn’t tell anyone and instead tries to breathe as the rain thunders around him.
November 6th comes. And then it goes.
The pain of it all is enough to make Will stop thinking about the rain. About Mike. About those words. He thinks about his moms broken smile, or the way Jonathan shakes when he’s making breakfast, or the nightmares instead.
It’s nice, in a morbid sort of way. His friends don’t mind when he’s quiet, when he zones out of conversations of can’t stop crying. Because that’s not him, right? That’s the Upside Down.
The Demogorgon haunts his nightmares the most. It’s face, cleaving in half and leaning tauntingly towards him. But then it’s Mike, screaming Those Words. Or his mom, with tears carved into her skin.
He wakes up hot and sweaty and so very cold.
Jonathan always holds him when he wakes up. Sometimes he cries there, alongside Will. Sometimes he sings softly under his breath. Very rarely they talk of the nightmares.
Will wants to tell him because he wants the rain to stop. But he doesn’t, because if Jonathan knows that Will is faulty he might stop holding him in the middle of the night.
Will’s not sure if he can hold himself together on his own.
* * *
He spends the whole year feeling cold. And it’s not just him. There’s two sharing his skin, two who live in the cold and the shadows.
After he’s gone, after everything inside Will has burnt up, Joyce holds him. Strokes his hair.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she murmurs, voice cracking on each words. It makes Will wince.
He just shrugs, sweat sheening on his body. Grabs onto her arm. “Guess I’m just always cold.”
If she pushes, he’ll crack. He’s too tired to hold up a defence. He’ll tell her about the rainstorm, and Mike and the baby doll on the porch.
But she doesn’t push. So he doesn’t tell.
As quickly as the visitor comes, he goes. Will gets used to feeling cold on his own. Then, he gets used to the rain fading to spit.
He gets used to losing Mike, even if the thought of that lodges itself between his ribcage. But it’s good, he thinks, because Eleven is kind and strong and fits him just right. Everything Will isn’t.
They get Max in exchange. She’s scary, but she’s also funny and fierce. If Will loved girls, he thinks he’d love someone like Max.
The absence of Mike draws him closer to Lucas. If anyone is sunshine personified, it’s Lucas. He radiates happiness, vibrates with it. Will feels warmer just standing next to him.
And yet he can’t move for the abuse that’s hurled at him. It’s different to Will’s. Just as vicious, but somehow more open and unavoidable.
Lucas smiles through all of it. Shrugs it off with no bruises and Max to hold his hand.
Max is even stronger than that. Putting up with Billy and Neil deserves an award on its own. She’s always able to tilt her chin towards the sun and stand tall.
Sometimes Will catches her eyes lingering on girls. She never says anything when Will sees her, just lets the knowledge sit in the air. It’s enough to make Will stop holding his breath.
Will wishes he was as strong as Lucas. As fearless as Max.
But he’s not.
* * *
The day it happens, there’s rain. Actual tangible rain pelting the roof of Mike’s garage and swimming on the sidewalk.
Mike’s words ooze venom. They hurt more than his dad’s ever did.
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.”
Will wishes he was paper. Paper that would just crumple at the slight hint of rain. Instead he seems to be a sponge, soaking all the hurt up.
Mike looks surprised by himself, but he doesn’t make a move to snatch the words back from the air. Instead he lets them sit, out there in the open.
Will breathes through it. Embraces the rain and walks straight into it.
The rain clouds follow him out of Hawkins. Like an overly loyal dog that sinks its teeth into its owner’s flesh.
It feels like hail. Driving its way into his skin. An unwanted visitor among his cluttered thoughts.
There’s another unwanted visitor.
El, the girl in the bed in the corner of the room.
El, the girl who reeks of Mike and all that’s wrong with Will.
El, who cries herself to sleep as though she’s being rained on too.
It’s not that Will doesn’t like her. He does. She’s sharp, quick with wit. She’s kind to his mom and sometimes she’s so small that Will feels some urge of protectiveness over her.
It’s rather that he doesn’t know her. And she seems to know him all too well.
They’re trudging home from visiting mom at work one day when she casts her eyes over to him.
“It’s… raining?” she asks, unsure of herself.
Will just nods, despite the fact that the ground is dry and hot.
But it is a bad day and Will’s brain seems to be melting, so she’s right. It is raining.
He looks to her, hands swinging slightly at their sides, but he feels nothing.
Will Byers, who feels everything.
He remembers Joyce in the weeks after Bob’s death. Her brain had been screaming. It was easy to see but Will could feel it, seeping out of her body.
He remembers Mike introducing him to El. The way his brain had screamed with joy, so much that Will felt dizzy.
He remembers the anger of Lucas and Dustin’s first fight as though it was his own. How the anger had made him ache.
And yet, when he looks at El he feels nothing but static and numbness.
She can feel him though. The rain that pours through his brain only gets louder in his ears. Its brushing his chin by now. Drowning is inevitable. |
65ed1323b9d74972ad02e51da1d3e959 | ['b02dc48875a44b2ba4ac0bd841bae2fa'] | Clint giggles as my face gets hot. He knows I hate showing skin. I had too much bone and not enough meat. There was nothing there to show. Still, i undress and step out of the car without hesitation when we arrive to the party. The music could be heard from the lawn, a pop song with heavy base, making the ground tremble. A few people occupy the front lawn, red solo cups in hand, already heinously drunk. I stifle a laugh.
Once inside the house, Clint all but ditches me. I hear him mutter "Natasha" as he disappears into the crowd. The smell of sweat was present but was greatly overpowered by the smell of booze and probably marijuana. I will myself walk through the crowd, and find Peter sitting on the arm of a couch, sipping a grape soda. A person I didn't recognize lyed draped across his lap, seemingly napping despite the noise. When he sees me, his face lights up. He screams "You made it!", as if he didn't force me to come. Peter waves me over, pointing to the chair next to him. I take a seat in it. Then, he jostles the person in his lap. They wake with a start, shooting up, nearly knocking Peter in the face. But he just laughs.
"Is this the band member you were talking about?" I ask, motioning towards the blond boy trying to keep his eyes open. He shakes his head, and replies "Nah, that's just Rocket. He's a sleepy drunk."
Suddenly, there's a distant crash, followed by a few shouts and then an eruption of drunken cheers. He points towards the noise. "That's the band member."
To our left, a crowd of people surround a single man currently doing a one handed hand stand on the dining room table. He uses his other hand to hold a beer bottle upside down, into his mouth. After a few gulps, he throws the bottle aside. The crowd only cheers when it breaks against the wall. The man flips off the table, promptly landing on his butt on the ground but he doesn't seem bothered by it. Peter shouts to him, "Hey, Bucky!" and then he's stumbling over to us.
I don't recognize his face instantly, but i'm guessing he does. Because as soon as he makes eye contact with me, he smirks.
"Bucky, this is Steve. Steve, this is Bucky." Bucky nods in affirmation. "What's up". It rolls of his tongue, almost like a purr, but i'm too busy watching a drop of beer run down the side of his chin. His hair looks less greasy now, but it still remains a tangled mass. The shirt he's wearing compliments his body type nicely, stretching across his chest and biceps, barely coming down to waist, exposing only a sliver of skin above his jeans. Two years ago, I would've layed down all my best lines and climb him like a tree. But things are different now. But I can still admire the look in his steal blue eyes while he starts to talk again.
"Hope I didn't offend you the other day", and I wave a hand at that. "My feelings aren't hurt".
"yeah!", Peter chimes in. "Steve doesn't have any." Bucky smirks, leaning into my space. "Is that so?" I throw him a bone, giving him a slight smirk in return. An invitation. For what, i don't know. "Do you want a drink?", he asks, stepping even closer. I call his bluff, getting closer as well. "Sure. Whatever you got." Peter clears his voice.
"Well, uh, I'll be over there. You two don't tear each other's clothes off."
I'm five drinks in when things start to get fuzzy. Somehow, Bucky's gotten even closer, his arm around my waist as he sway together in the kitchen of some poor soul's house. His hand tentatively slips underneath my shirt. I gasp, his hands freezing against my warm stomach. Too drunk to care, I chug another cup of punch.
I lose count of my drinks when I find myself in Bucky's lap, facing him. I watch his face as he giggles.The sound is sweet. He's just as drunk as me. I grind a little in his lap and he hums at the feeling. Next, I lean down and push his face into my neck. He gets the message quickly, nipping at the spot then licking it like a kitten. I feel him grin against me as my breathe hitches. I move my hips more.
This is not my first rodeo. And Bucky is not the first boy I have tried to bed. He like all the others, is a star. Bright, and ever glowing. I am the night that surrounds him. I caress the light but never dwell in it. And he, like all the others, can never dwell in my darkness, no matter how much they may like the touch.
I grind down harder in his lap. He's like all the others. He gasps against my neck. He's like all the others. I cherish the sound. He's like all the others. His hands roam my body, unfamiliar but familiar. The same but different. I can tell by the scratch of his dull nails that he likes the way i gasp so i do it more, into his ear. I haven't forgot we're in a room full of people. I just fail to care.
As he slips his hand down the front of my pants, I will myself to remember not to get too lost in the eyes of this one. Like all the others, he will disappoint me.
4. Take my Medicine | 4015f14db99d4f5a8012cebf91865f8d | ['b02dc48875a44b2ba4ac0bd841bae2fa'] | It's far too hot for it to be March, yet far too windy for it not to be. My work uniform, consisting of the average rent-a-cop get up, did nothing to fight of the sun nor work against the breeze. And i didn't know whether the lack of trees in my neighborhood was helping or hurting. We didn't live in the slums, but it certainly wasn't Manhattan. South side was run down, streets cracked and lined with crack heads but people weren't getting shot and/or robbed left and right so we counted that as a plus. The bank I worked at wasn't too far from here, but considering the sweltering heat, the distance seemed greater. Times like these, I regret having my licence suspended.
I hear Clint before I see him. With his loud mouth, and equally loud speakers hooked up in the trunk of his car, the man could never be a spy. Sure enough, Clint's golden brown El Camino slowed to a stop next to me. The excitement on his face is endearing.
"What's up man! Hop in!"
And I do.
"You heading to work?"
I nod.
"Gotcha."
We ride in silence for a few minutes. It is not comfortable nor uncomfortable really, but I could tell by the stutter of his breathe it was killing him. Finally, he sighs. "Where have you been, Steve?"
I run a hand through my hair. "To be honest, I don't even remember."
"Are you serious Steve? Man, I know Peggy's pissed at me. Last time i sell you Xanax."
It was a weird relationship to have with your dealer, this awkward sort-of-friendship. Clint was only a year older than me, but he had always watched out for me as if he were my big brother. It was just his nature. He was the caring type. His heart made up for his lack of good judgement.
"Come on, Steve. You haven't been this quiet since that time you got caught with molly taped to your junk. Why aren't you talking to me? Of all people?"
I keep up my quiet act for the rest of the ride. It's best i keep my mouth shut for now. It's hard to explain yourself when you don't even know what's going on. The days passed in a blur. And I was floating in open air while the rest of the world remained grounded. My family and friends, they watch me, expressionless, as i drift further into space. And i'm too high to even wonder where my gravity has gone. Now my body floats among the stars. I know no motion. I can't run in space. There's nothing here to run from.
Clint still smiles at me before he pulls off, because it's the Clint thing to do. I can't remember if I smile back before walking into the crisp, cool, building. After the third robbery of the year, Carver's Federal had finally realized maybe security was needed. But being that most citizens were either A) scared of getting shot or B) the ones shooting, the application pool was merely a puddle. I was lucky enough (note the sarcasm) to be selected as a guardsmen with little to no police experience besides being arrested. One day, I should point out the flaws in their application process. Most days, including today, I work along side Brock Rumlow, a gritty, hot-headed, unfortunately attractive man who makes my skin crawl whenever he so much as looks my way. This quickly became a problem, because Brock was a starer, and a chatty one. I'd watch with disgust as he blatantly watched the women that walked in day to day, commenting on their skirts, or chests, or what he'd like to do to them. I'd bite my tongue each time, but each time it grows harder to do so.
Today, Brock seems to be in a particularly chatty mood, because thirty minutes into my shift, he saunters over to me with his trademark shark grin.
"Well, you certainly look like you had a fun weekend." I remain quiet, hoping he'd get the message,that i didn't want to engage with him in any sort of way. But he continues. "Aww, you're not talking to me today, Stevie." My fists clenched at my sides. He mock sighs. "Oh well. That's okay. You can just listen. Cause I've been dying to tell someone about this brat the government dumped me with last week."
He goes on to tell me he's gotten a foster child and two things cross my mind. One, who in their right mind would give Rumlow a child, and two, I'll have to remind myself to pray for said child later on.
"The kid's only like two, but he's always making a mess."
"That's what kids do Brock." He ignores me.
"He can barely speak and when he does, it's like he's speaking Spanish or something." He scoffs. "I told them to send me a cool one."
At this point, I've checked out. I humor Brock with absent nods of my head and the occasional "mmhm". He seems pleased with it. He doesn't notice I'm staring at the clock, urging six o clock to come.
\----------------------------------------------------------
When I clock out, Clint is waiting on me.
"Peter sent me", he says. "To make sure you don't miss the party."
I groan into my hands. "I don't even have a change of clothes. I can't go to a house party looking like a cop."
"Okay, uh, you can keep the cargo pants on. Just take off the shirt and wear the tank top you have under it. It'll make you look like a 90's bad boy." |
5582e1be349644c6b81f591db1f7b93c | ['b053de9ee422436e8dd7b1ddf989382f'] |
I Need You So Much Closer.
**Author's Note:**
> My first time writing SGA fic. For the 'Still In Love' John & Rodney festival at McSheplets on Livejournal.
>
> Uhm, it's a little angsty? Not beta'd, roughly edited. Title from a Death Cab for Cutie song (Transatlanticism). Also, Rodney gets kidnapped a lot?
_After_
Christ, he was in pain. Something was definitely broken in his chest for breathing to hurt as much as it did. The beep of the heart monitor he was attached to sped up as he fought to get air into his lungs.
"Rodney, open your eyes. You're okay, you're in Atlantis," John whispered into his ear, barely audible over the heart monitor.
Oh, right. Kidnapping, Genii, underground bunker, dramatic rescue. Everything came slamming back as he snapped his eyes open. John leaned over him, wrapping a hand around the back of Rodney's neck and stroking his thumb along his hair line.
"John," Rodney gasped, hand flailing until it landed on John's arm.
"Shit, pain?" John didn't wait for Rodney to nod before he was up and yelling for Keller and Rodney took a moment to miss the warmth on his neck before his panic took over again.
"They must have given him something that's blocking the painkillers." Rodney heard Jennifer before he saw her, rushing to his bedside and fiddling with the IV in his arm. Oh right, injections at a regular interval. He'd forgotten. Jesus, how had he _forgotten_ ?
John circled the bed and stood opposite of Jennifer, reaching down to grasp Rodney's hand in his. Rodney tried to focus on John, the frown on his face, the way his brows were pulled down low and scrunched together. Rodney squeezed his hand as Jennifer started yelling for a nurse and something with a long name he couldn't quite understand.
"You're going to be okay. I promise, it's okay now," John said, low and sure as he crouched down, putting his face level with Rodney's. "We burned everything to the ground. We got you."
"Here we go," Jennifer said, pushing something into his IV port. Relief flooded his body as the pain in his chest relaxed.
"Good," he sighed, squeezing John's hand again as he settled down into his terrible, hospital pillow.
"Thanks, Doc," John said over him as he stood up.
"No problem. That should hold him for a while. Call me if he needs anything," she said, patting Rodney's hand before retreating to her office. He tried to wave her goodbye, but oh wow, he felt good. He didn't even mind the scratchy oatmeal coloured sheets and lumpy pillow or the almost-fluorescent lighting or the steady beep-beep-beep of his heart monitor.
John settled down into the visitor's chair, his arm outstretched to keep hold of Rodney's hand. God, he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't with John all the way over there.
Rodney frowned, pulling at John's hand. "Why are you over there?" He shifted as much as he could in the hospital bed, leaving not enough room for John, but it was as much as he could spare. If they could deal with the little cots the Ancients called beds on a daily basis, they could manage this.
"Are you sure?" John asked, looking unsure as he stood up, ducking his head a little. Rodney glared at him, the one he usually reserved for the 'scientists' who asked stupid questions. "You're injured..." But it was a token protest as John slid under the covers beside Rodney. He curled around him, resting his head on Rodney's shoulder, careful to avoid any problem areas.
Rodney drifted back to sleep, resting his cheek on the crown of John's head.
_Before_
"How's he doing, Doc?" John asked, walking as quickly as he could without running to stand beside Rodney's hospital bed.
Carson sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "He's better, and we're expecting a full recovery. They did quite the number on his leg, but with physiotherapy he should be good."
"He'll love that. When he wakes up they'll probably be able to hear his bitching halfway across Atlantis." He smirks, the same one that get Rodney to sputter and go off on a wild tangent, but it feels brittle. Rodney had been missing for four days - the unwilling guest of the Darryans, who as it turned out, needed an expert in Ancient artefacts. John had felt frayed around the edges the whole time and now that Rodney was back, not quite whole or healthy but _safe,_ he's starting to feel things knitting back together inside his chest.
But John doesn't want people to see that. He doesn't want them to know that what hurt wasn't when he was thrown through the open worm whole to an abandoned planet, but when he lost sight of an unconscious Rodney being carried away from them.
Carson must have seen it though, because the Doctor patted his arm and gave him a sympathizing look. "You know, John, Rodney's been a part of top-secret research groups for over half of his life now. As bizarre as it may seem, he can be discreet."
John gritted his teeth together and stuffed his fists into his pockets. "It doesn't matter, Carson."
"I'm not asking anything," Carson said quickly, glancing around to make sure no one could hear, "I'm just saying that Rodney has similar feelings, is all."
"It doesn't matter because I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair."
"To who?" Carson pressed, and John exhaled loudly, rocking back on his heels.
"To both of us! It shouldn't be- It shouldn't have to be a secret. We shouldn't have to sneak around." John felt his shoulders tense because he _want_ it, to be with Rodney. For it to be public without the risk of him being reported. It hurts to sit with Rodney in the infirmary, sitting in the chair, unable to touch him the way he wants to. "I have to go. I'll come back later," he said, his voice rough.
John doesn't meet Carson's eyes when he not-runs out of the infirmary, the beeping of Rodney's heart monitor chasing him out. | 0bde343869cc48e1ab33276a87400fc3 | ['b053de9ee422436e8dd7b1ddf989382f'] | The Banana Experiment
**Author's Note:**
> Oh I'm so sorry. It's like, the worst crack ever. Seriously.
>
> Um, set in season five, nestled between Cold Blood and The Pandorica Opens.
He sat at the kitchen table, or the table that happened to be located in the kitchen at that exact moment. The Doctor's fingers drummed on the antique tabletop acquired from the Kapteyn's Star system. He was almost positive that the table had once been in the library, or possibly the swimming pool, but he couldn't quite remember.
If one were to walk in on him at that exact moment, you would think he was in his study, or possibly the lab because of the way he was glaring at the object on top of the antique table. He poked it, prodded it, sniffed it, licked it, licked the table under it, examined it in extreme detail under his microscope from Sirius V, and even drew a quite complicated sketch of the object of examination.
His subject was a banana. Quite possibly the most perfect banana he'd ever seen. Perfectly yellow, no bruises or brown spots and no tough green at the top. It was the _perfect_ banana.
And he didn't know if he'd like it or not.
There was a reason he hadn't asked for a banana when he had turned seven year old Amelia's kitchen upside down for _something_ edible. He didn't want to face the very real possibility that his new mouth would turn traitor and not like it. For _two_ regenerations he had loved bananas. He didn't want to lose what connected him to his former selves. He had told Rose, _always bring a banana to a party_. People loved bananas! Dare he say, they even went _bananas_ for them.
The TARDIS gave the slightest shutter. He shrugged, sorry but honestly, he _had_ to say that.
The Doctor picked up the banana and peeled it, still liking the smell, at least. Ever so tentatively, he took a large bite.
.
.
Amy was in the console room, sitting in the captain's chair and curled up with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. She should have been sleeping, but ever since they had run into the Silurian's, she had felt achingly lonely. And even though the TARDIS couldn't speak, it kept her company as she sipped on her hot drink.
She felt the slightest shutter roll through the TARDIS control room, and before she could stand up and ask it what was wrong, she was interrupted.
" _Rubbish!_ " The Doctor exclaimed, not sparing Amy a sideways glance as he stormed through the control room, opened the TARDIS' door and flung something that look suspiciously like a banana out into space. |
09a4db17aed6443c8514ad523683fcb0 | ['b05d5cbd1368494693d68be81f63dec0'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Mark = Molossia
>
> (It's slightly late, whoops.)
>
> Ah, before I forget, this is for the prompt: Character A is pretending to be their friend’s lover for the sake of the friend’s family. Character B is said friend’s sibling.
“Oh, Matthew! You're looking more and more handsome by the day.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” Matthew replied, smiling at her.
“Have you got a nice young lady you have your eye on?”
Matthew tried to grimace or sigh: it had barely been five minutes since his grandparents had shuffled into his parents' house and he was already being interrogated about his love life. He hoped Amelia turned up soon so that the attention would shift to her. After all, he always felt awkward about talking to his parents and grandparents: both sets had made it very clear what they thought of 'the gays'. And Amelia loved her family, said nary a word against them, so Matthew had no way of knowing if he could confide in her.
It was the reason he now studied in Canada, so he could be as far from his family as he could get whilst still being close enough to come to their aid if they needed him.
“No, Grandma,” he said, smiling as shyly as he could under the circumstances.
“That's a crying shame!” she exclaimed. “You're such a lovely, polite, sweet young man. You could definitely sweep any woman off her feet if she took your fancy. Don't you have women lining up at your door, pleading with you for a date?”
_Only to plead for help with their assignments so they can_ go _on their dates_ , Matthew thought. “Not that I've noticed.”
“Oh, my darling,” his grandmother said, shaking her head. “No doubt you'll be jealous of your sister.”
“Amy? Why?”
“Didn't your mother tell you? Sarah, sweetie, didn't you tell Matthew about Amelia?!”
Poking her head around the living room door, evidently harassed from trying to cook dinner, blond hair coming loose, Sarah blinked at them. “What was that, Jeanie?”
“Didn't you tell Matthew about Amelia and who she's bringing?”
“Oh, that completely slipped my mind!”
“What? What is it?” Matthew asked, frowning at them both.
“She's bringing her boyfriend. Bert, I think she said his name was.”
Matthew grimaced. “ _Bert_?” he said, imagining his little sister turning up with an older man in a suit, dark hair, bright eyes, cheerful demeanour, the perfect man for the perfect girl. The name sounded like someone serious, someone who would call their mom, 'ma'am'. He wrinkled his nose and tried to quell the rising jealousy and need to protect his sister from anyone trying to take advantage of her.
“Yes,” Sarah said and waved a whisk at Matthew. “And you play nice. I know you like to scare off your sister's boyfriends by playing mind games with them.”
The picture of innocence, Matthew placed a hand on his heart. His grandparents chuckled. If they knew the reality (that Amelia had _asked_ him to get rid of them for some reason or other), they'd probably be less impressed. Not that he cared too much.
But, already, he was tired of the charade and wanted very much for Christmas to end. He only had to endure a couple more days before he could drive back to Canada...
When the doorbell rang, Matthew jolted in his seat. He looked up and watched his dad head towards the door, kitted out in a Christmas jumper and a frown to scare Bert. Everyone in the living room – Matthew, his grandparents, his uncle, his cousin Mark – listened to the murmuring of voices followed by loud laughter from both Amelia and their dad. Then the door was shut and footsteps grew closer.
In walked a procession: Mr. Jones with a couple of gift bags, grinning happily; Amelia in a tight Christmas t-shirt which said 'Ho Ho Ho' and had a picture of Santa on it; a young man about Matthew's age. Matthew could only stare at him, breath caught in his throat. Bert had dyed white hair (which looked natural on him) with dark eyes which had a tinge of red about them. He grinned widely at everyone, apparently uncaring of what they thought of the piercings in his ears. A black, shirt had been ripped at the sleeves, giving the man a jagged look and he wore tight, _tight_ black jeans. To complete the ensemble, he had a thick, black wristband and wore black biker boots.
Staring at him, Matthew eyed his piercings in particular and wanted to bite each and every one of them.
He almost slapped himself for thinking such a thing. First off, if he showed any sort of attraction to a man with his family around, he may as well just return to Canada immediately. Secondly, he'd just met the guy and he probably would be horrified to know that the first thought Matthew had had was that he wanted to- He forcibly cut off that train of thought. Lastly, and most importantly, Bert was _his sister's boyfriend._ His sister's boyfriend.
As Amelia went around the family, giving them tight hugs in welcome, Bert stood at the door, watching her. His smile was still present but Matthew thought that it looked a little strained now. Obviously, poor Bert was nervous. Matthew considered his options: he could continue staring at Bert for the length of time it took for Amelia to reach him, always the last to be hugged, or he could go over and make _Amelia's boyfriend_ feel welcome. While he weighed his options, Bert surveyed the room and, suddenly, their eyes met. Matthew's eyes widened, alarmed: Bert blinked at him, looking surprised.
Deciding to talk to Bert, Matthew stood – just in time for Amelia to launch herself at him. “Mattie!” she cried. “Good to see you! How's Canada?” | dc9b372416e84be9822e3de14daa2fc9 | ['b05d5cbd1368494693d68be81f63dec0'] | What on Earth are those... _things_ in your message? I can't understand what they're meant to be...
Yours, Arthur
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Hiya!!**
**<http://japaneseemoticons.me/> **
* * *
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
Dearest Al,
Not on your life.
Yours, Arthur
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
Artie. C'mon. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!
Yours, Al
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
Dearest Al,
No.
Yours, Arthur
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
( -̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷄◞ω◟-̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷅ )
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
¬.¬
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
( -̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷄◞ω◟-̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷅ )
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
눈_눈
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
°˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ °
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** LINK
**Re: Please!**
(‘▿’ʃʃ
* * *
**From:** LINK
**To:** super-al.13n@gmail.com
**Subject: Heartache**
Dearest Al,
I think you're going to be the only one that will ever understand me.
I asked Mother once again to let me go to school. She refused and got angry, telling me that I didn't understand. Of course I don't! She never explains anything! Like those veils she wears all the time. We were arguing about the school thing and I demanded to actually see her face. I don't know what she _looks_ like – I've never known what she looks like. I don't know who my father is or where he is or what he's doing.
I just got so angry today and now... Now I'm sitting amongst the roses again.
I don't want to worry you when you can't be here but I... I'm crying.
I just want to know who my family are, who _I_ am. Am I just 'the prince' and nothing more? Just someone who can't do anything with their life, someone who can only do what they're _destined_ to be? I want to leave the palace. I want to meet people.
I really want to see you.
Everyone thinks I have everything I could ever want but I don't.
I don't have _you_.
Al, what am I going to do?
Yours always, Arthur
~~~
**From:** super-al.13n@gmail.com
To: LINK
**Re: Heartache**
My dear Artie,
I'm so sorry I'm not there right now. If I was, I'd give you a big hug and I'd kiss your face till you laughed and pushed me away. I never want to see you without a smile.
Your allowed to be angry. Your allowed to feel the way you are. All you need to do is apologise for shouting at her and it'll be fine. I mean, you can still be angry at her, y'know. And she might tell you what you wanna know. But as long as you apologise for the argument then you'll be a hero. ;)
And I know you didn't say it but if your dad left (none of our classes on the royal family says he died, nobody know what happened) then you shouldn't worry about what he thinks of you. He's not made you who you are. Your mom's not either.
Your perfect.
5 years, 2 months and 13 days till I see you. o(*≧□≦)o
（*＾3＾）/～♡
Yours forever, Al
* * *
**From:** LINK
**To:** super-al.13n@gmail.com
**Subject: School!**
Dearest Al,
I can't believe it! For my birthday present, my mother got me the one thing she could have given me to make me truly happy. (I mean, except for taking me to see _you_...)
She's enrolled me into a private boarding school, a top one with the best security one can have!
I have to pick subjects to learn – I don't know which to take! I mean, I've just been learning everything I could possibly learn every day for the whole of my life. How am I supposed to narrow it down? Mother gave me a table of subjects to pick from and I'd love to study History. But I also want to learn more about Classical Studies. And Geography would obviously help, what with me being a prince and future king. But I want to learn more about the world of science and what's being developed. And then, of course, I still have to learn Maths. ¬.¬ But Music and Art would be fun, considering.
What do you think?
Wait. How am I supposed to talk to people? I've only ever talked to nobles and some of their children. What about the others who have no titles? They'll hate me. And what about clubs and interests? What do I do?
Oh, I'm so excited but I'm also really nervous!
(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
((((｡(´°Α°｀)｡))))
Yours always, Arthur
P.S. Can you help me with this Maths problem?
f(x)=x^2+4x-6 and I need to solve for x=5 and x=12
~~~
**From:** super-al.13n@gmail.com
**To:** LINK
**Re: School!**
My lovely Artie,
Haha, I can tell you are, if your using those!
I'm so happy for you! No, really, I feel like my heart's swelled just hearing about it! Maybe you'll be at the same one as me! I don't mind seeing you a few years earlier than planned if that's the case. God, I wanna show you round school and introduce you to all my friends and take you to dinner and see you happy. But I doubt it will work out like that. I'm going to a school a few miles away so I doubt I'll see you – your mom will keep you close in case something happens, won't she?
I'm happy.
But
What if you fall for someone else while you're at school? What if you wanna marry someone else?
Promise me you'll be there in 5 years?
Yours forever and ever, Al
P.S. It's like this:
.....
Could you help me out with this English essay?
~~~
**From:** LINK
**To:** super-al.13n@gmail.com
**Subject: School!**
Dearest Al, |
4ef74500c0c541c9abb0e846974ba7a9 | ['b07c0790aa404859849c235042593e04'] |
all i wanna hear him say is "are you mine?"
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> "For (insert contrived reason here), Dirk is able to meet Alpha Dave. Whether it's a one-night stand or has more of a lead-in time, it ends up with them fucking. The drama here is that Dirk is cheating on Jake to do it. WHOOPS. Whether you want to show the relationship effects (whatever you may headcanon them to be) here is up to you, I mostly just want Dirk mentally warring between the desire for his brother and the fact that he's cheating - and losing to the desire. If Jake and Dirk have sex, or Dirk masturbates, I kind of want him to picture Alpha Dave while doing it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)"
You can’t stop staring at Dave’s lips.
The mattress creaks beneath the two of you as you settle upon your knees just atop Dave’s thighs, staring down at him from on high as he reclines before you on one of your boyfriend’s dozen or so guest beds. You could be staring down at his chest, newly bare as you pluck the last button of his black silk shirt from its hole, rising and falling in shallow breaths. You could even be staring at the small tent pressed against the crotch of his slacks, nestled so closely to your own that they almost touch.
But you’re not, because you’re staring at the way he’s worrying his lower lip with his teeth in barely restrained want as he watches _you,_ and you can confidently say you’ve never seen anything sexier in your life.
Which is, you’ll admit plainly but only to yourself, a scandalous and terrible thought, because Dave is not your boyfriend. Jake is.
Your name is Dirk Strider, and, as outlandish as it may sound, you’re about to cheat on your boyfriend with your older brother.
You can’t rightfully say you ever thought you’d end up in any part of this situation--”being unfaithful to your boyfriend of nearly a decade” ranked up there with “meeting your older brother (and not just his pre-scratch self, but the genuine article)” on the list of shit you never planned on happening--but you also can’t rightfully say you’re terribly surprised to end up here, all things considered.
The role your Bro played in your life may have been more distant than either of you could ever have wanted it to be, what with the gap of a few centuries or so between the end of his life and the beginning of yours, but that did not stop him from being an integral part of your upbringing. While he had been busy preparing his apartment to withstand the coming centuries until your inevitable arrival, baby-proofing the outlets and stockpiling the cabinets with all the non-perishables and orange soda one rad little baby could ever need, he knew there was one thing he could not stuff in a vacuum-seal bag that you would need more desperately than anything: human interaction and guidance.
So, along with the food and the dope SBaHJ DVDs, he left you several hard drives full of home videos. Some were relatively short and to the point, instructional videos on how to do shit like brush your teeth; others were hours long, rambling train-of-thought word vomit on any and every thing that crossed his mind. From workshopping his newest film idea at a hypothetical three-year-old (you were seven when you found _this_ file and had already seen that film twice) to a heartfelt (and, you suspected later, drunk) apology for not being there to raise you his own damn self, he had a video prepared for every occasion to fill the lonely minutes and share some bits of himself with you across the ages.
Hours and hours of pure, unfiltered Dave Strider attention in glorious mediocre .mp4 format, for your eyes and your eyes _only._ Pouring his heart and soul out to you, for you, across the centuries. Before your discovery of the internet and the friends you would find waiting for you therein, these videos were your whole world.
_He_ was your whole world.
Your Bro became something of a fixation for you in your loneliest hours, which were, admittedly, most of them. As you began to grow from a lonely little runt into a full-blown adolescent, this fixation started to change shape.
The first time you touched yourself, it was to thoughts of your Bro. And the second time, too. Honestly, until you really figured out how to use the internet properly, your sexual awakening was spent devoting untold hours to your Bro. After you made the Auto-Responder years later, it was one of his favorite things to drag out of your early adolescent past to rub in your face.
And then one day, you actually sat down to figure out this weird alien internet tech, and your whole world changed irrevocably.
With the advent of the internet into your life, so too came a number of other things. Friends. A newfound sense of social norms and expectations. Furries.
And, most importantly, Jake English.
It wasn’t love at first Heyo! Maybe it wasn’t even _like_ at first Heyo! But somewhere between then and committing to play Sburb with your friends, you had fallen irrevocably and undeniably head-over-heels in love with Jake English, and gradually, you put those fantasies of the Bro you would never meet behind you.
...or, so you thought, until the first time you and Jake had sex. When the two of you had stolen away to LOMAX for a little quality alone time, you knew better than to expect fireworks and a mind-blowing orgasm out of your first time together. Hell, you’ll give it to Jake--retrospectively, even for a first timer, he was doing quite well for himself, which isn’t hard when you’re hung like a goddamned Greek god. Or a horse, you guess, would be the expected comparison there. | ae591ae729c84b618e6d85c90adbd76b | ['b07c0790aa404859849c235042593e04'] | Your lips trail ghost-light down your Bro’s neck, over the swell of his battle-hardened muscles, as you slide from his lap into the floor between his spread legs. The mattress creaks once more as he sits up on his elbows as you unzip his pants with your teeth, slipping the belt from its loops to press into his palm. You tell him to hold onto it--you’re going to need it soon. His cock twitches beneath the thin fabric of his boxers before you.
Taking him into your mouth is easier than you anticipated; years of practice on Jake has made you something of a pro at sucking dick, and Jake is bigger than Dave by a sizeable amount. You know you’re doing good from the way he’s sighing, white-knuckling the sheets. You love the way he moans low in his throat as you take him deep into yours and you sincerely don’t mind when he grips the back of your head to fuck your face in swift, shallow strokes.
From the way you’re palming your own cock as he does so, you suppose “sincerely don’t mind” is underselling it a little. You _love_ choking on a good cock, and while you would be more than happy to just let him finish in your mouth and swallow the evidence all up, you don’t want this to be over so soon. When you bat his hand away and pull off of him to stand and kick off your pants, he whines, and you tell him to hush and hold his horses a second.
You can safely say you’ve fucked Jake in every room of this house, and as such, you can just as safely say you know that there should be a bottle of lube and a pack of rubbers in the bedside table. When you pull them out to show him what you have in mind, Dave grins wide.
He beckons for the half-used bottle and you oblige, tossing it into his waiting hands in exchange for the belt he had kept safe for you. He warms the lube in his hands, slicking his cock with it as he asks you casually if you’re going to tie him up with that thing. Because he’s into it, he says.
When you answer by slipping the belt in a loop around your neck, the tail pulled through the buckle, he gives you a soft oh and raised eyebrows, but that grin never leaves his face. When the rubber is in place, you crawl back onto his lap and press the end of the belt into his palm, telling him not to be afraid to give it a good tug, much to his delight.
He asks you for a safe word as you guide his hand to press to your ass. He’s already two knuckles deep into you when you manage to say that you and Jake use the stoplight system, which you regret immediately as guilt punches you in the gut. You wait for him to pull his fingers out of you, only to be pleasantly surprised when he pushes up to the third knuckle, a laugh in his throat.
You ask what’s so funny, though you dread the answer. You don’t know if you could handle being chastised or made fun of for cheating on your boyfriend with your Brother’s finger deeply embedded in your ass. He says, instead, that he remembered that his old safeword used to be fergalicious.
Seriously?
seriously
You’re such a Dave, you mutter, before allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the sensation of your ass being fingered. He really does have those long pianist fingers, all knobs and rough with callouses, and you love the slide of them against the inner walls of you. By the time he’s finished prepping you, you’re a shuddering mess, leaning with your forehead mashed against his shoulder for support.
He helps guide you to his cock and you sink down to the hilt upon him in one swift motion, moaning deep as he fills you to the brim. It is not the same near-overwhelming fullness that Jake’s cock gives you, so thick that it’s nearly painful even now to take him completely. It’s comfortable and settles in the small of your stomach in a searing heat that feels almost like home.
You don’t have time to unpack that right now.
Your hands on Dave’s shoulders, you push him back to lay flush to the quilted covers, drawing up to your full height so that he can get a good view of you as you begin to ride him in earnest. The slow, grinding roll of your hips on his brings a hitch to his breath, and he’s quick to return the favor by giving the belt an experimental tug. It tightens just so around your neck, and you make sure to moan sweet for him and give your hips a particularly passionate rut to let him know, oh yes, more of that please.
Luckily for you, he’s an astute observer. When he gives the belt another tug, jerking you closer to him, an electric thrill runs through you. You reward him with a shift of your weight onto your knees to bounce in his lap, riding him with an urgency you didn’t even know you felt until that very moment.
You ride him for all he’s worth and then some, almost delirious in the intoxication you feel in his presence. This is better than any of the wet dreams he had ever starred in; it puts all of your half-hearted fantasies to shame. The way he fucks up into you, slapping your ass near raw as he tells you how good you feel on his cock? You never imagined it like this, and it’s all the better for it.
You call for ‘yellow’ only once when the belt gets a little _too_ tight around your neck, and you take a minute to take in a deep breath, before you get right back to it with a gusto. You promise him that you’re going to fuck his brains out, and you’ve no doubt from the sounds he’s making below you, you’re making good on that promise.
By the time he finishes, eyes rolled back behind those shades that have not once come off of his face, you’re so ready to be spent that you _hurt._ You continue to ride his cock, as long as you can, as he reaches up to take you into his palm, but a few short strokes finishes you off in a spray of white across his stomach and curled fist. He strokes you through your orgasm and you curl over him to lick and bite at his neck. By the time you’re done with him, he looks as wrecked as the wall behind the bed, dented from the persistent knocking of the frame against it.
The night dissolves into a warm mesh of cuddles and spontaneous, sleepy sex, the both of you too drunk and exhausted to go at it so hard again. You drift off to sleep, and you dream of laying naked with Jake on the grassy burial mounds of LOMAX under the stars, watching the movements of skeletons through the red ruins below.
Neither of you speak about what happened after that night at first. Not out of shame, though you wrestle with that yourself as you shower off in one of Jake’s guest bathrooms the next morning. You suppose you just aren’t sure what to say.
When you see Jake the next morning, he offers you a sheepish smile, pretending not to see the bruises on your neck from the bite of the belt just as you pretend not to see the lipstick stains on his collar. You keep it to yourself, deep in your chest, right next to where you lock the memory of him fucking his intern. You give him a kiss, and he kisses you back, soft and sweet.
You have a lot to work on, it’s true, and a lot of things to discuss. You think, maybe, you will, one day. You don’t want to lose Jake. You know that well, even if his wandering eye makes you sick with a grief like mourning. You lost him once already, and you’re learning to come to terms with what you’re willing to do or put up with to make this work.
You don’t even say anything as he makes eyes at the waiter when you all go out to lunch later that day. You’re too busy looking at your phone, a new message from your Bro flashing on the screen.
BRO: busy later? |
e7e86015eb864b79be310b84b4647abf | ['b082554fd07b402394d97903daee298a'] | Their fight is reaching a dead end, seeing as they have trouble to find new words to throw at each other. And it seems almost as if they might just get to try to find a different way to solve things, when gold-white's voice is once again heard.
“Silence. You are giving me a headache. Shut up or I will kill you.”
He's definitely angrier than the other two. And he seems to have a weapon. Well, guess the one, who wins the fight would always be him in the end.
“But...”
*bang*
The sound of a gunshot echoes loudly in the desert. Since when do deserts have echoes? Huh. Whatever.
-”...”
Again silence.
“I guess some things never change, haha. … Probably.”, says green. He seems even more weird.
Now any possible observer would undoubtedly decide, that there will not be much else to hear or see. The hypothetical observer thus takes off into the sky. Even as he gets farther and farther away her hears the mumble of brown-gold.
“...still it was him, who annoyed me...”
**Author's Note:**
> That's something I found in one of my old documents, written in 2013, I guess. English is not my mothertongue, so please don't mind the grammar or spelling faults ... ^^
> I think it's a nice short story, so here you go!
> I wish you all a merry, beautiful, exciting, relaxing (Insert here whatever you like!) Third Advent. | 51ecbf09d44c4659ab353d8711940f6f | ['b082554fd07b402394d97903daee298a'] |
Somewhere between east and west a small spot moves through the endless sand. Those who look a little bit closer are able to distinguish four separate moving spots, sitting on, or in, the first spot. Moving closer, observers are also able to hear something.
“I think Sanzo group sounds kind of boring after a while. Maybe we should suggest them to name us different.”
More like someone. The sounds originate from a small spot in green. The spot is in what you might call the front of the big moving spot.
“Hu? Well, What ya have in mind, Hakkai?”, another spot answers, bright red like some sort of flower, if you are the kind of person to describe it nicely. Blood, if you want to keep it either simple or be a tad mean.
“How about „Sanzo AAAA Inc.“? Short for Sanzo Aid, Advice and Assistance Incorporated.”, replies then the first talking spot.
“Ya know... sorry, but ya kinda suck naming things...”
“How about GoSaHaGo.”, joins another spot, brown and gold like autumn skies.
Thus the three spots converse cheerfully. Not that there is so much else to do but to talk, if you're in a wide boring desert, only having the five dots otherwise spotless. No other people. No friends, allies, acquaintances nor foes. Especially no foes. The four smaller spots haven't had a fight for days.
“How about Priest, Monkey, Kappa, Bear...”, says the green spot, trying to be creative.
“I dunno. I never really liked being call'd a Kappa, who came up with that crap? Huh?”
“Or GeGoGoHa.”, cheers the brown-golden spot, clearly unwilling to part with his first idea.
“The monk and three.”, says red.
“Heroes of...”, contemplates green and is interrupted.
“Ha? Who would that be?”
This is, finally, the moment for the last spot, white and gold, to join the conversation.
“Silence, or I will shoot you all.” Albeit with the intention to end said conversation.
“Hai, hai.”
For some time, it is silent. The spots move and it's almost as if the time stopped anyway. As if they move forever without coming forward. Right. It is a desert full of endless sand.
Slowly the sun rises to its zenith when there is sound again.
“I just thought...”, begins the autumn-sky-spot. Just to be interrupted immediately. Really. Beginning like that provokes an interruption, might an observer think to themselves.
“Naw that's somethin' new.”, joins red. His voice sounds like he is all to eager to fight. Anything that keeps boredom away.
“Haha... No, really, I just thought... ya know the girl in the village we jus' left. Her and ya know her family, that wasn't her family but is her family now. Well... life's complicated, isn't it, ya can be more than one thing, can't ya? And it's always changin'. I mean ya can be a friend and a sibling. Or a parent and a sibling. A friend and a lover.”
Deep thoughts. They seem unusual for the autumn-sky-spot but in a way they also seem far to natural. Like the thoughts of a child that becomes an adult to soon but still wouldn't understand its own silent wisdom. Wisdom has never been about age. The innocent, not as in those that committed no crime but as in those that have no knowledge nor understanding of their crime (every being able to understand crime will sooner or rather find themselves guilty), are the most wise.
But they are also naive.
“...” The other spots remain silent.
“A lover and a parent.” Which doesn't keep the autumn-sky-spot from continuing.
“...”
“A sibling and a lover...”, and continuing.
“...” This silence is a very different one, one of a hidden meaning.
“All right, ya can stop now, Goku. Ya don't hafta give more examples. We all got the point, didn' we...”
“…”
Again it's silent. But this time it seems gold-brown is getting agitated.
And again he is the one to break the silence.
“Nah, nah...”
“What now, bakasaru?”
“I'm hungry...”, whines gold-brown. Every other thought has been forgotten, now that his stomach grumbles. He seams eager enough to eat to try to bite one of the other spots.
“Ya...”, begins red at his side and stops, ”arg...”
“What?”
A very good observer might see how red kind of shakes his upper part, or well, what you would call his head to be more clear.
“Ya know, ya really can only say one thing, can't ya?”
“That's so not true! Ya... ya... stupid... hentai kappa!!!” And brown-gold jumps up and down, complaining and whining all the more. Well he is hungry and getting mocked at is not nice, is it?
“Well at least I'm not the one with a stomach for a brain, ya one-trick-poney!”
Seems the heat, the boredom and the hunger get brown-gold to start a fight.
“Whaaatt!!! That's so not true, is it. I'm a mighty many things, I am. So ya know!”
And just as with brown-gold it's easy to get a reaction out of red.
“Ahahaha. Right. I'll be amazed the day ya decide to show that.”, mocks brown-gold.
“Just ya wait.”
“Mah...mah...there is no need to fight you two.”, interrupts green. He sounds... amused. They are weird. Oh, yes they are very, very weird.
“But he....!!!”
“Me? Ya are the one who's always...”
“That's bullshit ya annoyin' monkey, I really jus' wanna have peace, it is ya who is a never-ending rattling child.”
“That's ya! An' I ain't no child!”, well he is a very small spot – compared to the other spots.
“Ha! Ya know, ya are pretty childish for one who claims to be no child...”
“So what? Ya know, what ya are ya stupid kappa...” Brown-gold is having trouble finding other mock-words. |
db2f55e537d34316bbfce0d2763c038a | ['b09947779fac4b279c29d4dbaaffeac9'] |
schism of the giants
She has the same lips as the girl from the arcade nights. Every night with a long thin arm wrapped around her waist, the arm attached to the lanky boy stuck flush against her side – his nails painted black and his hair bleached to oblivion. A strange feeling became her, like she was looking at herself from a distance, and in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t rationalise the anger she felt. So instead, she focused on the girl and her lips. The lip gloss might make the kiss sweeter. Either way, she knows for a fact that she could kiss her better than her guy ever could.
Donna doesn’t wear lip gloss. Lipstick, always. Today, it’s a matte orange from Maybelline – she was with her when she bought it. Cameron doesn’t wear lip gloss, either – never cared for it much, but she can’t help but appreciate the way it looks on Donna’s lips, ever-plush and soft, inviting.
There was the night outside the clinic, Donna with no make-up – Donna with her make-up smeared down her face with salt tears. Donna ragged and aching, sobbing from her throat, guttural. Cameron waited for her in the dark, as close as she could be while the windows fogged up. The condensation dripping; smaller drops rolling into one, wiped away when she rolled down the window for air and Donna quietens slightly but she’s still shaking like a leaf.
There was the night in that tiny little room Cameron had claimed for them, and Tom, sometimes. The night where Cameron was struggling, struggling to breathe with her hands up in her hair in a frenzy and her own nails dragging on her scalp and skin, leaving blood red trails against the surface. The tears in her eyes threatening to spill but she’s trying to catch her breath – just trying to catch her breath. Donna stayed as close as she could, absorbing the panic bouncing off of every wall in this small box they called a room. She waited for her then, too.
~
That small room – that makeshift office they both shared, and Tom, sometimes (but Donna was never there for that). Bags under their eyes. She and Gordon shared nights like this – Cameron also shared nights with Gordon like this, but it wasn’t so quiet. Joe was there, sometimes. Wasn’t as nice as this.
Cameron writes a line of code that feels so good her body shivers.
“Donna,” she taps her shoulder aggressively and Donna has to peel herself away from the screen, mildly annoyed, until she sees what’s written on-screen. The chair rattles as she gets up to take a closer look and the giddiness in the room is contagious. They’re so tired that they’re full of energy, and Cameron becomes suddenly aware of Donna’s warmth next to her. Between the look of pure wonder on Donna’s face and the green text on the screen, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, proud of herself in more ways than one.
“Cam,” Donna looks back at her, mouth agape and those lips – those – “you did it.”
Cameron cannot stop herself from thinking that the smile is for her, is hers. She knows she doesn’t want to write another line of code, not right now. The energy inside moves her and she will not regret this, not when Donna’s eyes shut ready for her, tired but ready. Not when Donna laughs into her mouth, her heart nearly bursting in her chest. Her headphones clatter on the floor and her hands find Donna’s wrists, her fingers hooked on the leather of the watch Gordon gave her.
“Cam,” she says against her lips. _Cam,_ she says again and she is completely lost in the whisper. The orange lipstick smeared against her, she kisses a trail down her neck and frees Donna’s wrists to go for the hem of her shirt, the buttons on her slacks. Donna whines and giggles when she drags her teeth against her skin.
Cameron – “Cameron,” – drops to her knees. Their eyes lock when Cameron – _“Cam,” –_ drags her slacks down and off her legs, brings her knee over her shoulder, and her hand pushes her panties to the side. She looks up one last time as Donna’s big judging eyes flutter shut, as she arches, as her fingers rake through her hair.
_Cameron. Oh._
She couldn’t do this without her.
~
Cameron does not forgive her. Not really.
And for a second, every day, she regrets it. She regrets giving in. She regrets the touches. She regrets the office they had together and the code they wrote and the meetings. She regrets this thing they built together - this thing she was no longer a part of.
Only for a second.
She couldn’t have gotten that far without her. That much is true.
But then Mutiny - yes, it’s real name - would still be hers.
She’s not sure that she’s happy when it turns out Donna couldn’t do it without her, either. From a distance, everything falls apart and crumbles miserably to the ground in ruins - this thing that she’s no longer a part of. And it doesn’t make her as happy as she thought it would.
A giant falls and the ground shakes.
Again.
~
Divorce looks good on Donna. Her hair is still at her shoulders but she looks lighter – Cameron knows she isn’t. There’s something heavy on her shoulders, but marriage isn’t one of them. She has one extra button undone than she used to. But that’s the same lipstick. The same orange on those same lips. Cameron realises that she had fallen in love with what she made, with Mutiny – did she make Donna? Or did Donna make her?
At that hotel door, it’s the first time it occurs to Cameron that Mutiny was theirs. _Theirs._ Until it wasn’t theirs. Until it wasn’t anybody’s. | 69adc3103f7f4988875952abd5118e28 | ['b09947779fac4b279c29d4dbaaffeac9'] |
take it from me, take it from me
**Author's Note:**
> (someday we'll all be free)
>
> i wrote this a long time ago and i don't have the heart to delete it because it's more words than i usually write. i tried to clean it up but it's vaguely irredeemable and definitely ooc. i'm not sure i wanted to do anything with it in particular, i just wanted to write for john and lincoln and failed miserably. but i miss them. if you do too, we can talk about it. is anybody out there
>
> unbeta-ed, obvs
Lincoln shuffles slowly into the kitchen, daring himself to get up and boil his own water. Coffee sounds good. A hot towel against the pulse in the side of his head sounds better. Sure, his hands are grasping onto every surface he can hold onto, but he does it; his palms eventually colliding flat against the kitchen counter. When he lets go, there are two large sweaty prints left behind. He sighs and his vision blurs - he smells burning.
It’s too hot, too humid. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say was back in Nam. But he’s in America; home, in New Orleans. But then there’s the fact he’s been shot in the face. Sounds like Nam. Like some sick joke.
Fucking Giorgi.
That stings like holy hell all over again. And he tries to think past it all over again, a pattern quickly forming since the moment he woke up. The rage and upset sitting neatly under the seared skin on the side of his skull. Seeing John at the foot of his bed with a hand resting an inch away from his own, it was hard not to think of Giorgi. Not that he felt that he had betrayed John in anyway – it had been a few months since they last spoke, and Lincoln assumed he was a busy man, like he always was. And maybe he wanted to leave Nam in Nam. That old CIA way, perhaps. And Giorgi wasn’t John, not one bit.
Instead, it’s the memory of Giorgi scraping his fingers across the side of Lincoln’s face, pulling him close, and his other hand gripping so tightly onto him that it burns. Laughing at the job they pulled, drinking to it and locking themselves away. The memory of _after,_ sitting in his bed and smoking cigarettes after cigars while he complained about his father. Lincoln would listen distantly, eyeing the way the muscles of his jaw worked. Turns out it didn’t matter that much if he was willing to put a bullet to him if his dad gave the word. It stings like Giorgi’s fingers scratched jagged lines across his cheek. Oh, but if only he had killed him. Couldn’t even look him in the eye when he did it and the sonofabitch actually missed the kill-shot. He couldn’t even get the aim right enough to take those memories away. So, it’s drinks and laughs and then. Giorgi looking over him and blood and Sammy falling to the ground while the flames ate Ellis up. The heat – the fire. On loop.
His head fucking hurts and maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
There’s a clean, empty pot on the stove which he takes to the sink. The water splashes against the bottom, loud and aggressive at first, calming down slowly as it fills up. It takes him a little more effort to carry it back over to the hob than he’d like, and it slams down a little louder than he intended, the water spilling slightly over the edge. He takes the matchbox from where he knows they are – second drawer to the right – and he delicately pushes it open, grabs a match and strikes it.
But it doesn’t light. He strikes it again, and it doesn’t light. He strikes it again. It doesn’t— His hands shake more, and his vision gets blurrier, head throbbing so hard it feels like it'll break the scar right back open. Then, there’s a hand gripping his wrist as gently as it could, suggesting that he stop trying. Lincoln sucks in a deep breath, and when he opens his eyes the tears are gone.
“Easy, Lazarus.”
He lets John take the matchbox and the match out of his hands. John puts them down on the counter and Lincoln wants to tell them that’s not where they go.
“Sit down, will you?” John says, equally concerned and annoyed. He would resist if he had it in him. But he lets John take him to the dining chair, putting his hand on his shoulder and John wrapping his arm around Lincoln. The chair creaks underneath him. John goes back to the stove.
“You should’ve just asked me,” he says in some sombre tone that betrays him. Annoyed would’ve suited him better. But then again, it is just him and Lincoln here.
“Father James isn’t home,” Lincoln’s voice is low, and the words slur slightly. John strikes the match. “You were asleep.”
“You should’ve just asked me,” he says again, annoyed this time. He turns around after lighting up the stove and looks at Lincoln. “We’ll get Marcano,” his voice softer now, “but that means we have to get you back up on your feet. And I can still help with that, too.” |
ae8912289840452897321e1554e29ccf | ['b09c1a44aa0b459db467e7655457eec9'] |
Wildflower
The far echo of the screaming children running away in fear was disappearing with their shadows beyond the horizon line. Left alone, with a bloody knife in her trembling hands, the three-eyed girl fell on her knees crying. She hated that. She never wanted that. The only thing she really wanted to stab was her third eye, only that. Instead she ended up stabbing a couple of children limbs. She hoped everyone would stay away from her forever, she wanted nobody to ever see that eye again: she was just a monster, a freak only good at hurting people, nobody could possibly be safe or happy around her. And she hated it all.
After those children cut off her bangs to humiliate her, the only defense she had left was that big and scary kitchen knife in her little and shaky hands. Sobbing inconsolably with her knees against the cold floor, she was staring at her reflection on the blade, hating the whole of herself and the evil curse of her ugly third eye.
Suddenly she felt a hand getting close to her: «Take this» said an unfamiliar voice.
Instinctively she clenched her fingers against the handle of her knife, pointing it in the direction of the voice she just heard, «Go away!! I’ll kill you!!» she screamed trying to see out of her eyes filled with tears.
As she got her eyes to focus she saw a hand holding a flower.
«Are you okay?» asked the voice. It was child with blond hair speaking, he was wearing a yellow t-shirt with a big “3” printed on it.
«Eh!? Shut up!! I’m going to kill you, go away!!» she screamed again, her knees were still stuck to the ground, paralyzed by fear.
The child paused a little before speaking again, he looked worried: «I saw you crying all alone so I thought that maybe a flower could cheer you up…»
Her knife slipped and fell on the ground.
She couldn’t believe him. There was no way he was not scared of that ugly, weird, third eye… or maybe he just didn’t notice it yet. She instantly brought her hands to her forehead, covering her eye with her fingers, hoping that he saw nothing of it. Trying to sob as quietly as possible, she was still shaking uncontrollably.
The blond child looked confused: «Why are you covering your eye?»
Her face turned white. “He saw…- she thought- what do I do now…?”
He just smiled shyly: «Don’t tell anyone but I cover one of my eyes too, you know? See? Right here!» and he pointed at the left side of his face, covered by his bangs. «Sometimes I just don’t want people to stare at my face for too long…»
The little three-eyed girl had no idea of what to say, of what to do. She just stayed there, with her hands covering her eye.
«Come on, take it!» he said again, referring to the flower he was holding in his hand. The one he had on his face was the kindest smile she could remember.
Silently she stretched her arm and took the flower he offered her. It was just one common, little wildflower but she thought it was the most beautiful flower on earth; she just couldn’t say it, her voice couldn’t come out just yet.
«Do you like it?» he asked with a smile.
Her answer was just a weak nod.
She still couldn’t believe that child: she was afraid that maybe he was trying to deceive her in some subtle way, a little voice inside her head was warning her to be careful, not to trust him yet. However, somehow, she found herself blushing at every single smile he gave her: she had no idea that a simple kind deed could make her feel so good, so relieved.
«Is that so?» he said, with an even brighter smile than before.
She still couldn’t believe that child.
«My father hates when I give presents to other people. He says it’s something only the weaklings do. But you know, my mom always has to stay at the hospital and I secretly bring her food. Don’t tell anybody!» he said putting his index finger against his lips.
He sat next to her as he continued his story: «It’s just that I really love to see my mother’s face when she eats my food! Although I think the food I make is still not good enough… Lately I’m practicing with baking goods. I’m spying the cooks in the kitchen to learn, but I think it’s even harder than making ordinary food.» as he spoke his smile looked brighter than the sun; the little girl was just listening in silence. She couldn’t remember when she took off the hand covering her eye, she was so concentrated listening to his words that she stopped paying attention to it.
«I really have to practice more, my cakes are always too tough and end up crumbling down…» he looked a little sad as he pronounced that last line of his.
«Uhm…- intervened the girl with a little and shy voice- How do you mix your batter?»
«Well… until I see everything is mixed up for good, I guess…» answered the blond child trying to remember.
«The mixing part is fundamental. You have to be careful not to leave a single chunk of butter or sugar in your batter.» she explained.
Sanji hang on her every word as he listened to her useful tips in baking cakes. She continued with other kinds of baking goods recipes and he did the same with her. They talked about ingredients and little cooking tricks, of personal experiences and favorite dishes.
«Well, I’m not that good of a cook yet, but my sister is training me to become a chocolatier. She is teaching me a lot of things.» she eventually said.
«No, you are really good! I wish I could eat some of your chocolates someday! I’ll make you try some of my best dishes too!» he replied with a smile. She gave him a smile as well and it happened naturally, even before she could realize she was doing it.
«My father only wants me to become a great fighter but I’m still the weakest among my brothers… I really want to become a cook but I don’t want to disappoint my father either. I promise you that I’ll work hard! I will become both a great cook and a great fighter! You promise me that you’ll become a great chocolatier too, okay?» and he raised his little finger for a pinky promise.
The girl was still smiling and nodded again, her little finger entwined with his.
Soon the kid’s father was back. He needed to talk to the little girl’s mother, ruler of the country she lived in, about certain future plans. Getting ready to leave, he called for his children’s names who were waiting for him: Sanji was the name of the boy. He was looking for a place where his brothers couldn't find him and ended up spending his whole time next to the three-eyed girl, talking about food.
«I have to go now, what’s your name?» he asked.
«Pudding.» she replied.
«What a cute name! Okay Pudding, bye! See you-» as he tried to say goodbye she blocked him with a kiss on his cheek: «Thank you, and goodbye!» she said with a smile.
Sanji blushed, looking really surprised about the girl’s kiss but since his father was still calling him, he really had to run away.
Pudding waved at him as he distanced himself to join his father and leave the island. The flower he gave her still in her hand, the bloody knife still on the ground, a lot of steps behind her. | 2193b7e94ae24df7a65dc8b3fb8743fe | ['b09c1a44aa0b459db467e7655457eec9'] |
Guerriero
**Author's Note:**
> "Guerriero" is the italian term for "Warrior".
>
> This fanfiction was highly inspired by Marco Mengoni's beautiful song titled Guerriero. This song means so much to me, I hope you can listen to it before reading this fanfiction.
>
> Eng sub: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=L2-QMj7LkXI
> Official video: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fK8LrzzC4-8
>
> Have a good read!
_I am a warrior_
It was raining outside. The soft sound of the raindrops patter was the background music of the great adventure little Sora was living through the pages of the comic book he was reading.
As usual, after the end of the school day, the child was hiding in an empty unused classroom in his elementary school, hoping for his bullies to leave before him. He was scared to return home alone, but no one could pick him up. His mom wouldn’t be back from work until dinner, so he spent most of his day alone. His only friends were his elder neighbor’s pets: Goofy the dog and Donald the duck; he played with them everyday.
_I am a warrior-_ Sora read again that specific line inside one of his comic book’s balloons. That line struck him a lot because that was one of the few spoken lines of a character who barely spoke at all.
If Sora was a warrior, he wouldn’t be afraid of his bullies, or about going home alone. Being a warrior was basically all he ever dreamed about and he smiled when thought about that.
_One day I’ll become a warrior!_ He thought as he stood up, walking away from that classroom holding that comic in his arms.
… Unfortunately, his bullies were waiting for him outside of the school’s main door. Sora froze on the spot when he saw them.
«Hey Sora where were you, we looked everywhere for you!» said one of the bullies. Even though he was scared, Sora tried to walk away, pretending he didn’t hear them, but one of the bullies snatched the comic book he was carrying. «What is this?» one of the students snickered his comic book and started to flip through the pages.
«Stop!» Sora tried to take his comic back, but he was stopped by another bully who blocked both his wrists.
«Hey, cool! I want this too!» said a third kid, ripping off one of the pages.
One, two, three, ten pages were ripped off. They were tearing the whole book apart. That comic book was a present he found next to his bed on that very morning. There was a note attached on it: _I’m sorry I can’t be with you today because of work. I hope you like this present and I promise I’ll be back with a cake for you tonight! Happy birthday Sora!_
A tear run down his cheek when they threw away what was left of the book.
«What’s the matter crybaby? That book wasn’t even worth it anyway» that said, the kid punched Sora’s face.
_One day I’ll become a warrior!_
*******
March 28 was an important date.
Three years before, their parents divorced. Dad found out mom’s second child wasn’t his and he got terribly mad. He refused to acknowledge the three years old child, forcing the fourteen year old to move away with him. Judges approved this choice, agreeing to split up the two brothers.
Ever since then they never saw or heard each other again… But this year was different. Vanitas, the oldest sibling, was now seventeen and his high school class planned a seven-days-long school trip in another Country. That was the perfect chance he had to lie to his father and spend a week in his birthplace again, just to check on his mother and little brother… especially his little brother. The last thing he remembered about Sora were his eyes full of tears as him and his father left for good in the car. They couldn’t even say goodbye to each other. But now Sora was six years old and Vanitas wanted to see him again. He probably hated his big brother after the way he left, or even forgot about having a sibling in the first place. Either way, he wanted to see him again, explain to him how things were and then, finally, saying goodbye for one last time.
March 28 was the first day of the school trip. That gave Vanitas even further proof that he was doing the right thing; even though Vanitas and Sora were eleven years apart, there was one thing tying them closely: their birthdate.
March 28 was Vanitas birthday; it was Sora’s birthday as well. And if Vanitas could make a birthday wish then he’d choose to spend that day with his only brother in the world.
*******
He reached his birthplace riding his motorbike, after asking his father the money he’d need for his “school trip”. He stopped at a park and sat down on a bench thinking about how crazy what he was doing was. His father wasn’t stupid, it was just a matter of time before he found out about this big fat lie his soon-to-be-dead son told him. There wasn’t a single moment to waste… but at the same time, how could he face his mother and little brother like that? Like “Hey, I’m your long-lost close family member who completely abandoned you three years ago” didn’t sound right.
While he was thinking about all of these things, he heard some noise of kids playing nearby… Do kids these days really make all this noise when they play? Curious he started looking for the source of the noise only to freeze in shock when he found it.
He saw Sora.
He saw some kids beating Sora outside of the elementary school he identified as the one where he used to go when he was a child. He had to do something, but not like that. Lightning-fast he put on his bike helmet and ran towards the group of children.
******* |
e371cb5d3af0442bb364f934df41bef5 | ['b0b8d1ec982d45b2ab3aa65b198c252e'] | And then came the revelation. It was supposed to be me. They ran after _me_. He pushed me out of the way to hide me, and they got him, but it was supposed to be me. Paranoia that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I snap back to the present moment when I feel his hand on my face, wiping away the tear I let slip. “Hey, c’mon,” he whispers and takes me into his arms, hugging me tight and stroking my hair. “It’s fine. They kept it, asked me what I wanted to do with it, so I took it home with me. Dan thinks it was a dumb idea, but I felt like I had to.”
I pull away slightly and examine the object further, squinting when I see some writing on it. My initials. He got my initials engraved into the godforsaken thing.
“You’re out of your mind,” I whisper, but I smile nonetheless.
“Who knows this story?”
“Nobody,” I reply honestly, “it’s a useless one to be told.”
“I just don’t want you to get into any trouble,” he explains, “I do worry about you.”
I chuckle humorlessly. “That’s funny, because you’re the one that got me into this mess.” It’s a low blow and I know it, but I’m too angry to care right now.
“And I regret it every day.” He sighs and gets up, putting his arms around me and kissing my cheek. “We’re off to Russia soon anyway, you’ll never have to see me again.”
I huff in frustration. “Doesn’t make it better, you asshole. You all have grown on me. Like a rash.”
That makes him laugh, and I can’t help but giggle as well. “You’re crazy, Miller. Come on now, let’s get some food, shall we? I’m starving.”
I fiddle with the necklace for one more minute, before smiling up at him. “Yes, _солдат_ . Let’s.”
And, indeed, I never ever saw him again.
**Author's Note:**
> I know you still worry about me and you look down at me from the clouds you're laying in, making sure I'm always safe. I'll see you in paradise, my angel. | 54b92b0376b846e782cc1142bd70fe0a | ['b0b8d1ec982d45b2ab3aa65b198c252e'] |
Medicine
**Author's Note:**
> I've written this for a project of a friend of mine. I'm not going to elaborate on that, I purely chose to publish my writing for fun.
>
> The tags I've used are out of necessity, I've also written this while listening to Harry Styles' album.
>
> The work title is the title of the song that I relate to the story that I'm telling. Listening to said song might be helpful to understand the context, it is not needed, though.
>
> Everyone mentioned in my writing is real, these things have all happened in one form or another, and this is being used as a personal archive.
>
> Kudos and Comments are appreciated, those can be left anonymously at the very end of the page.
>
> Hope you enjoy!
15 // 2014
It’s been exactly one hour and forty-three minutes since he’s last spoken to me. He stayed silent in the car when we drove to the house, he didn’t say a word during the debriefing with the crew, and when I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into our room to start taking care of his bruises, he let me, but refused to so much as glance at me. And now here we are.
I’m dabbing an alcohol soaked cotton pad at a particularly deep cut on his shoulder, wondering if it will require stitches, when he first speaks up.
“I hate when you follow us on trips like these,” he mutters, winces when I purposefully press a little too hard.
“Tough shit,” I say, stoic, stubborn. I know where this is going and I don’t like it one bit.
I can feel his eyes roll before he even does it, and he shrugs me off, my hands no longer on his body. He gets up and drives his hands through his hair, turns around to look at me. “I’m serious. I’m sick and tired of this bullshit.”
I shrug carelessly, tossing away the soiled cotton pad. I grab another and douse it in liquid, before gripping his muscular arm and making him sit down in front of me, he lets me without complaint. I press it to another wound I see and ignore the hiss he lets out. “Oh, don’t be a big baby.”
We fall silent, then, he knows that this is a discussion that leads to nowhere. I may be young and I may be dumb, but I’m the most stubborn person in the team, my word is law and I made sure everyone knows that. If someone doesn’t like it, they can take it up with the Blues. They’re backing me too strongly for anyone to dare to talk back, anyways.
“Take your shirt off, I can’t reach any further,” I command, and he does so without looking at me. I can see a couple of bruises forming, but nothing major, not as bad as it could’ve been. My eyes fall onto the necklace he never seems to take off these days, something he hasn’t let me take a look at for a while now, for whatever reason. He must’ve forgotten he was wearing it in this moment, because it’s in clear sight, and I can now see why he’s been hiding it from me.
Next to the cross that’s always hanging across his chest is a bullet, as big as my pinky finger. It has a hole at the very top where he looped the necklace through, its gold color shining threateningly, surely jingling with every step.
I reach out to take it into my hand when realization downs upon him, but it’s too late. I already know. His eyes widen and he looks at me with so much pain in his eyes, an apology ready on his lips, but I shush him.
“You kept it,”is all I say, and his confirming nod makes my eyes fill with tears.
I’m instantly taken back to that one horrific night, one I will never forget in my life. Thinking about it makes my blood run cold, I’d never been so scared like in those short couple moments.
You see, being reckless and having fun and being young and feeling invincible are all feelings that make life seem so worthwhile, it lessens the fear of growing up and entering the real world. But when your recklessness makes you find yourself in the wrong crowd, a situation you cannot escape from, you are forced to realize just how short life really is, and that, in a blink of an eye, everything can be taken from you. All it takes is being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
All I remember now is the screaming, the running, someone pushing me down a flight of stairs before the gunshots began. When I came to, I was being carried in someone’s arms, before I could make out who the person was I passed out again. Next came the waking up and the feeling of panic settling in. I was at the house, in my bed, but I refused to stay seated. My vision blurring when I ran through the entire building in search for him, looking at all these glum faces, nobody wanted to tell me what was going on. By the time my brother reached me, I had already driven myself insane with assumptions. He was hit. Someone shot him. In this small town, usually quiet, good to live in, someone saw us and decided to start a chase. And they shot him. Nobody knew why, the police was as useless as ever, we were completely on our own, and he got shot. The waiting game was what killed me the most, the uncertainty, he lived, but how well would he recover? |
3c38159254b847e2af1169dfe5692223 | ['b0dec321fe6340709de182cc81939f9d'] | One mystery solved. He had been contacted by Talia, but why does he want Bruce? I understood that the old man had been stiffing him out of his Applied Sciences division, but that’s business. Luthor had been given the cold shoulder on business deals before, and only came out of it even more filthy stupid rich. He hadn’t gone to kill them.
Or was it simply the old vendetta? Every time Batman set foot in Metropolis, it was either to put down Lex Luthor or to bust Superman’s chops. Sometimes, he managed both.
He read my answer, and pocketed his phone. He ignored the camera to finally step out on the stage, hand waving at the crowd. I could only guess at what his advisors told him. Express condolences for those affected by the Battle of Gotham, the official designation for our final fight with Falcone a year ago, and to encourage those watching to donate to the relief fund that Tim and I put together. Deny any involvement with the Metallo robbery weeks ago, although he was working under Luthor’s orders and said so. Deny any involvement with a Russian business transaction between supercriminals from around the world and the mafia. Deny any affiliation with Deathstroke, despite the fact that he was Slade’s supplier of the serum that cut my recovery time in half. Reaffirm the position that vigilantes acted outside the law and should be treated as no-good criminals. Reaffirm that the only god the American people worship is the Christian, capital ‘G’ God, not an alien in the sky. Reaffirm that if he were to enter office, that his first act would be to place Superman under government sanction. Say “we have nuclear codes, but we do not have Superman codes” five thousand times. Appeal to his Democrat voters, talk about the hirings across racial and secular boundaries within Lexcorp. Appeal to liberal values of tolerance and peace, despite his crossed fingers and figurative nose lengthening with each and every lie.
For a businessman, Lex took to politics like a fish to water. Every perfect lie combed its hair before it left his mouth, triple-knotted its shoes so it wouldn’t trip. I’d never bothered with politics. I figured that whoever was in charge wanted me dead, no matter who they were - president, mayor, commissioner, hot dog vendor, they wanted me dead and that’s all I needed to know to keep my hide intact. Wanting me dead was the face of bipartisanship.
Lex wasn’t crazy like me. He’s obsessed with getting some kind of one-up on Superman, and apparently the presidency was a stepping stone to that end. Or maybe he wanted that government sanction just to get Clark to bring him his coffee. Either way, if he wants the old man dead, he had his work cut out for him.
He went right down the list in his speech. Metallo to Deathstroke, vigilantes to government control, and back. I kept nursing the alcohol, knocking glasses back until the glare off his head started to blur.
“ _ Mr. Luthor. Before you arrived tonight, your staff presented us with an interesting memorandum that you would be talking about a domestic terrorism threat tonight. _ ”
“ _ Yes, Ms. Lang, I do want to address a threat that has been lingering right under our noses. _ ” There he was with that smarmy grin again. “ _ In many ways, Fear Halloween was a terrorist attack like none other and although the outcome of that night was unmasking Batman as Bruce Wayne, along with his unfortunate death, there is another unmasking that must take place.” _
Holy shit. He’s onto Tim! My drunk fingers fumbled with my phone, and it slid under my chair. I swore, but as I reached down to feel for it, I heard Lex write a very different death sentence.
“ _ The Arkham Knight was in charge of training, managing, and strategizing for the entire campaign in Gotham City. Every tank, every squadron, every soldier was under his command. Scarecrow could not have done half of what he did without the Arkham Knight. And how fortuitous that today, almost the exact anniversary of that fateful and terrible night, that the Arkham Knight is unmasked.” _
I straightened slow, my eyes glaring hard into the TV, at his neck. I imagined the crunch of the vertebrae under my fingers, how the light would go off in his eyes, and he’d stop struggling, he’d stop breathing, he’d stop being. And I would kill him.
“ _ And I know what you all are thinking,” _ He spread his arms. “ _ How do I know this? How could I possibly know the identity of the Arkham Knight? Who was he? He hasn’t been seen since Fear Halloween, no word. The only man who knew his identity, possibly, was Bruce Wayne and we know how that ended. But there is someone who knows who the Arkham Knight, and that’s the Red Hood.” _ He looked into the camera, and smiled, wide and wicked. “ _ And that’s because they’re the same man.” _
I didn’t feel the glass bite into my hand as I punched the TV, punched the pixel Lex right in his loose jaw. I thrust it back out, and grabbed the thing, still bleeding around my right hand. I lifted it, and threw it back down. I stormed through the firehouse, Roy appearing with confusion on his face. “Jason, the hell?”
“Not now.”
I returned to the broken TV with a crowbar. | 92a0e546e6c94d63a600a33e2d062170 | ['b0dec321fe6340709de182cc81939f9d'] | Raph didn’t fully understand the whole need to be married, but he did understand about having a set of rules or conditions placed upon you, then being ostracized for challenging them. But there was a difference. The rules placed upon him were put there to protect him from the discrimination of the outside world, to keep him safe. The box Jude’s mom shoved her in was raised from one of three places: jealousy, bigotry, or flat-out sexism. Or all of the above.
“Pretty screwed up,” Raph agreed. Against better judgment of his comedic skills, he attempted a joke, “I get you. Case you haven’t noticed, I’m a turtle. I’m supposed to be in a zoo or ‘in the wild’. I’m _ not _ supposed to be walking, talking, and ass-kicking.”
He didn’t expect him to wax philosophical, but she was nodding as he spoke like she followed all of that, so he went on, “We all got someone we’re supposed to be, someone we can be, but there’s nothing that says we’ve got to be that person…Just because you look a certain way, you’re this species or that species, don’t mean you’re meant to be that and only that. You can do what you want, do something amazing. Your mom didn’t get that, and you know what, between you an’ me - you turned out alright from where I’m standing.”
Jude stared at him, her demeanor brightening. A timid smile spread across her face, and she was finding herself pleasantly surprised at him. This brutish mutant turtle, who could probably break her in half over his knee, was talking to her with an earnest sincerity, a kindness in his gravelly voice.
“Raphael.”
Raph felt his cheeks coloring under his dark green skin, freezing with the straw of his drink inches from his lips. The scar above his top lip twitched, “What?”
She wanted to tell him that she thought he spoke really well, that she could listen to him talk for hours. She didn’t. Her eyes just cast out over the river, and she said quietly, “I appreciate you saying that...I really do.”
A few moments passed, and the corner of Raph’s mouth perked up, “Welcome.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re alright too.” Jude said, running her fingers through her short hair and bringing her knee up to her chest, holding it there with her lean arms.
“Uh…” Raph kicked himself inside for his mind blanking when she said that, “Thanks…” He remembered something, jumping as he told her, “Oh...I got you somethin’.”
His big fingers clumsily moved to his belt, to a pouch on his hip. His hand worked the drawstring loose, taking out a small orange-and-white box and handing it to her. “I don’t care if you use ‘em or not, just wanted you to have ‘em.”
Jude’s eyes narrowed at the words on the box. She felt awkward, holding it in tattooed hands. Nobody had done something like this for her before. Just a simple gesture. “Nicorette.”
“I don’t know if you planned on quittin’, but I just wanted you to know,” Raph tried to brush it off like it was nothing, watching her blank face. He rambled, “I don’t know, that in case you wanted to. I can help.”
A full minute passed, her eyes glued to the box and his glued to her. Then, her own fingers, usually strong and sure, shook as she pried open the box. She was hearing her father’s words in her head. _ Only if you’re sure, if you’re absolutely sure you want to, Judie. _ He’d said that before she ever did anything risky. Raph didn’t know this, but her father died from COPD...from smoking. The last thing she wanted to do was disgrace him by smoking, but when it happened...when he died, she found herself with a cigarette in her hand. She felt closer to him when she did that, and hated it, and herself, ever since.
“You’re only supposed to use ‘em when you’re one-hundred-percent sure you wanna quit, just so you know,” Raphael warned hastily, his hands dumbly on his lap.
“I’m doing this shit right now,” She said through a tight jaw, and she popped out the first piece out of the foil into her hand. She threw it in her mouth, chewing quickly and then slowed, tasting the flavor.
Raphael was looking at her, his brows raised. His curiosity was piqued; he quit smoking cold turkey. Didn’t have any nicotine gum to help him. “How is it?”
Jude’s lips were cocked a bit to the right as she grinned. “Good. Really, really good.”
3. Day 20
**DAY 20 OF TRAINING**
Jude usually thought Sunday nights to be calm, peaceful times where she could relax alone without distraction. Raphael rarely came by on Sundays, her gym closed earlier, and the few friends she had were out clubbing. So, she made the most out of her Sunday nights.
It started with a hot bath, water just below scalding temperatures and smelling like coconut with a bath bomb from a Christmas set she bought herself last year. She lowered herself into the water with a satisfied hiss through her teeth, biting her lip as her back touched the smooth bottom of her tub. She felt the stinging of her latest bumps and bruises reacting, her pores opening up with the heat, and her tight muscles loosened as she stretched. |
94a2068aaf8a414ab11755ba96a2dead | ['b0ea8f37de284e9a83fb176fcfedc225'] | The Swordsman stares down at Kirby with a trembling gaze. Kirby takes a step back. He had no idea what he was doing. But he couldn't let them know that. If their intentions hadn't changed, then he needs to be on his guard. Very slowly, he takes a step forward. The Swordsman tries to back up even further, but bumps into the wall. They glance at the wall quickly, then shoot their gaze back at Kirby.
"Listen... I'm not going to hurt you..." Kirby's heart pounds in his chest. Everything is deathly silent. "We... We don't have to fight again... Okay? So let's just... Talk this out."
The Swordsman simply floats there silently, frozen and trembling in fear.
Kirby takes a deep breath. "Can you... understand me?"
After a moment, the Swordsman blinks dazedly. Then, they nod quickly, but look left and right for an escape route.
"C-calm down... I won't hurt you." Kirby says in a hushed whisper. "I don't want to fight anymore, okay?" Sweat beads on his temples. This was a horrible idea, and yet... Seeing this person so upset, so scared, it made a pang go through his heart.
The Swordsman widens their eye at Kirby and stare down at him for a few minutes... Then nods slowly and shakily. It seems they don't want to fight, either. Unarmed, injured, and exceedingly confused, there's just no point in it anymore.
Kirby gives a sigh of relief. He didn't even realize that he was holding his breath until now. "Oh, good! I was so _scared_ for a moment there!" He chuckles. His heartbeat slows back to a normal pace. _Thank the stars._
"Oh! I almost forgot!" Kirby rifles around in his trunk. "Where is it... Aha!" He triumphantly holds a phone in the air then punches in Aivey's number. "Hello? Yeah, it's me... No no, I'm fine! Everything's... Everything's fine," he sighs.
"...Wait, the pie? What do you m-- o-oh my stars, _the **pie**!_ "
3. A Cloudy Day
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> When a misunderstanding leads the Dark Matter to flee, Kirby follows them into the forest to clear things up. Will they be able to get through this together? How will Dark Matter settle down, if they can? Will the Dark Matter Swordsman learn how to identify and control their newly found emotions? Will new positive emotions ever come over their overwhelming negative ones?
"...Maybe we can... salvage this?" Aivey asks hopefully, looking over at the charred pie on the counter. "I-I mean, if we scrape of the charred part, it should be alright underneath, r-right...?"
Kirby inspects the burnt pastry. "It's worth a shot! I'm not losing a whole pie!" He says, clenching his nubs with determination. He yanks open a drawer and whips out a spoon. "Beginning crust removal!" He chimes.
Having calmed down some in the hour since Kirby had called his friend, the Dark Matter floats over to the two and tilts their head at the scene. "Oh!" Aivey says. "You want to help? Maybe a knife would work for this, too..." They rummage around in the drawer, then triumphantly pull out a butter knife.
The Dark Matter backs up, eye wide at the small blade. All that reassuring Kirby did that he didn't want to fight anymore... Right out the window.
Kirby stumbles back. "H-Hey! What's the matter?"
The Dark Matter says nothing, but continue to stare at the knife, trembling. "Huh?" Aivey looks at the butter knife, as well. "I-it's just a butter knife-- it can't hurt you..." Aivey takes a step towards the Dark Matter, but they float a bit back.
**"No, nonono..."** The Dark Matter mutters in a deep, grumbly voice. Their eye darts around, looking for an exit once again... Unfortunately, Aivey had left the door open when they came in, so the Dark Matter bolts right out and slams the door behind them.
"Wait! Come back!" Kirby cries. The poor thing barely had time to recover! He couldn't let them get hurt again. He couldn't! He swings open the door and races down the hill his house was built on.
The Dark Matter sprints through the air, glancing back at Kirby. They hurry into the forest, to the comforting shade of the trees.
"C-come back!" Kirby calls. "I wasn't going to hurt you! I _promise_!" The Dark Matter continues hurrying along and ignores what Kirby says. It isn't until they tire themself out that they slow down to a stop in an opening in the woods and lie on the ground, crying. "Stop... Please... Hoooo!" Kirby slows to a stop. "Hey... Are you okay, buddy?" The Dark Matter only whimpers in response, curling up into a ball. Very carefully, Kirby places a hand on their shoulder. "Hey... It's okay now... When I said I didn't want to fight anymore, I meant it."
They sniffle and let out an ugly sounding sob. **"I-I... I just... I do not... understand... How... How do you... live...?"**
Kirby tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
**"S-so much pain... Sensation..."** they mutter, **"how do you... survive it all...?"**
Kirby sits down before them in the grass. "It's hard... You hurt and you cry and you struggle..." He sighs. "But there's so much _more_ out there than pain. Joy... Love... Laughter..."
The Dark Matter simply lies there, silent. Then, after a few moments of thought, they speak up again. **"...Can you... Teach me?"**
Kirby gives a reassuring smile. "O-Of course! I can teach you all sorts of things!"
They let out a mixture of a huff and a hum and Kirby turns his head up to the clouds. "Look."
The Dark Matter turns over and lies on their back, eye turned upwards. The sky is a bright blue, spotted and splotched with fluffy, white clouds. The breeze carries them all along at a steady pace.
"Isn't it pretty?" Kirby asks, staring at the clouds passing by. | 31008e19f18c4c33ace35ce834a24aa1 | ['b0ea8f37de284e9a83fb176fcfedc225'] |
1. A New Beginning
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kirby's friends find a strange, unconscious being in the forest and he decides to help them. Will the mysterious stranger wake up and recover from their wounds? Or was Kirby too late? Who could they possibly be, and why are they so different from other life forms?
**Plunging from the sky, sinking like a pebble in a river. Head reeling, world spinning, all a blinding explosion of sensation.**
**One by one, the 'petals' given to the Swordsman are stripped off and dissipate into nothingness...**
**They scream out to their brethren, but only receive silence.**
...
Without knocking, one of Kirby's newer friends-- a Parasol Waddle Dee named Aivey-- bursts open his door, panting. "H-Hey, Kirby! Come check this out! We found this, uh... creepy dark blob thing in the woods!"
Kirby shuts the book of recipes he's reading. "What? Show me!" He all but throws his book to the side.
"C-c'mon!" Aivey waves Kirby over. "I-it's all smoky and squishy and stuff!" With that, they hurry out the door, with Kirby not too far behind. He sprints after them, his feet pounding against the ground.
After running through the woods for almost ten minutes, they arrive at the scene. A Bronto Burt, a Poppy Bro Jr., and a few other Waddle Dees stand in a circle, cautiously watching what appears to be some strange orb. It seems to have no visible features-- no eyes, or noses, or even a mouth, but it's covered in cuts and slices of various sizes and depths. They all appear to be from the same weapon and smoke emits from each of them. Its midsection rises and falls slowly as if in labored breathing, and the entire thing trembles.
"What should we do, Kirby...?" Aivey asks, a nub up to their cheek.
Kirby kneels next to it. Good, they're still breathing. "I need you to listen very closely..." He says, struggling to maintain a calm attitude. "Grab a first aid kit from my house. Whoever this is, they need help." He looks back up at Aivey. "Now!"
Aivey nods quickly, running back towards Kirby's house.
One of the other Waddle Dees walks over to Kirby with their 'eyebrows' furrowed and clears their throat. "...You don't think... it's one of those weird... Dark Matter things that attacked the kingdom not too long ago, right?"
Kirby pauses. "I-I..." He puts a hand up to his chin. "I really don't know... But whoever they are, we can't ignore a person in need." He turns to the Waddle Dee and gives a forced smile. "A-and besides, maybe they've changed! Everyone deserves a second chance, right?"
"Hmm... If you say so, Kirby..." they say, arching an 'eyebrow'. "I just think... I-If it _does_ turn out to a Dark Matter... Well, I just think it'd be safer for the _rest_ of us if you just, y'know..." They draw a hand across their face with a "krrrsht" sound.
Kirby's blood turns to ice.
"H-how could you even _think_ of something like that?" He cries. "That's horrible! That's... Horrible..." His eyes start to well up with tears, but he quickly wipes them away. This was absolutely no time to be crying! "I-I mean... Don't you think it's wrong to take a life? Maybe we could just... Give them another chance..."
"I dunno, Kirby." The Waddle Dee crosses their nubs. "Considering all the trouble they caused, and what they could possibly _do_... What if it _possesses_ one of us, huh? What if it possesses _you_? We'd _all_ be done for, then!"
Kirby stands. "I... won't let that happen, okay? So don't worry." He gives them an optimistic smile.
The Waddle Dee shrugs. "Like I said before, if you say so..."
...
Before too much longer, Aivey returns, nearly out of breath. "H-here! I got the first aid kit for you, Kirby...!" They exclaim, huffing every other word.
Kirby gives a big smile. "Oh, thank you! I swear, I'll pay you back for this."
"O-oh, it's no problem..." Aivey huffs, plopping on the ground. "I just don't think I'll do any more _running_ today..." they chuckle.
Kirby hadn't even been paying attention. He plucks the antiseptic bottle out of the case. "I really hope I'm doing this right..." He mutters to himself.
As Kirby applies the antiseptic to a wound, it hisses and sputters like a water droplet on a hot skillet pan. The orb twitches some, and everyone jumps back, but it doesn't respond otherwise.
"Um... UUh, don't panic! I-I-I've got everything under control!" Kirby wipes the antiseptic off and swallows. _What now?_ He begins to wrap a few bandages around the blob, silently wishing to every star that this would be enough. He spends an hour like this, fretting over this person. Wrapping bandages, checking for fever, hoping that they'll pull through, and everyone watches with bated breath.
After an hour, the child's patient is covered in bandages. Kirby falls onto his back and a sigh whooshes out of him. "Hey," he says after a moment, "can you guys help me with... one more thing?"
Aivey tilts their head. "What is it?"
Kirby stands back up. "Can you help me take this person to my house? They deserve to sleep in a real bed."
Aivey nods, as well as most of the other people there. "Right, we can't just leave it here out in the open and stuff," the Poppy Bro Jr. agrees.
Kirby's eyes sparkle with gratitude. "I can't thank you guys enough!"
Very carefully, he slid his stubby little arms under the blob and lifted them up. "Would you mind opening the door for me when we get there?"
Aivey and the Bronto Burt help lift the blob up, as well, and the Poppy Bro Jr nods. "I'll do it, sure!" And so, the six of them trotted off back towards Kirby's house. |
f33c0153abef42b18933472ba505ee4c | ['b0f11215e6ff4417a259e663d23a4b25'] | Harry and Paul were laughing at him with abandon, and David scowled.
“Shut up. My stupid boyfriend has no taste at all. I really think if I have to use that bedspread, it will kill me.”
Harry returned home feeling much lighter than he had when he’d left. It was nice, he realized, to share himself with people who had no preconceptions about him based on his history. It was nice to know that Paul and David didn’t just like having him around because he was fun and fit. It was nice to know that they wanted more from their friendship.
And it was good to have clarity about Draco. He had been sitting on these questions for weeks, going back and forth and when and how he should reveal if his feelings, _if _he should even reveal them.
And now he understood something he hadn’t been willing to acknowledge before: how Draco was still coming to terms with his sexuality, and how hard that must be. A person needed time to reckon with that, to see what it meant to them. Harry’d had years to do that. Draco deserved that too.
_When we return to Hogwarts, things may have changed. _Draco had asked for the summer, and it seemed a good amount of time. He was probably sleeping with other people – maybe men, maybe women, maybe both – and Harry would have to learn how to be all right with that. He was hardly one to judge, after all.
But, as David pointed out, Harry had seen the other side of it now, and he knew what it was to care deeply for a lover, to want to commit. Maybe Draco, once he had explored, would also get clarity about what he wanted as well. Maybe, once they were back at Hogwarts, he would be more receptive to the possibility of a relationship. They could talk about it.
Until then, though, he would leave it. He would focus on other things.
He went into his bedroom, where the black velvet box was sitting on top of his wardrobe, where he had left it the last time he had decided to take the cufflinks out and look at them.
He didn’t feel a need to look at them again. He merely put them in the drawer, promising himself – and, in turn, Draco – for the time they both needed.
He could be patient. He could wait.
***
“Interested in helping again today, Mr. Potter?” Gallagher, Harry’s architect and magical renovator asked him. He had paused, spotting Harry lingering on the landing of the third floor, which had now been entirely cleared. All around the empty expanse, Gallagher’s employees were working away, mostly casting charms or putting together training equipment, now that the floors were installed and the walls painted.
“Yeah, actually,” Harry answered, rubbing the back of his neck. He needed a distraction, something physical he could do to take his mind off things. “If you think you can use me.”
“Of course. What strikes your fancy?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any more walls I could smash, would you?” Harry asked drily. “It’s been that kind of day, I’m afraid.”
Gallagher chuckled. “’Fraid not, Mr. Potter. We’ve finished with the demolition by now, as you can see.” He gestured around in demonstration. Of course, Harry figured that would be the case. But it never hurt to ask.
“I’ll help wherever I can, then.”
He ended up teaming up with two of the other renovators putting together one of the advanced practice dummies. It wasn’t the very active, physical work he was craving, but it was intricate, with many small parts and complex mechanisms, and required concentration. Harry decided he would take what he could get.
Anything to take his mind off Draco and what had happened in that wine shop. He had been wallowing for a few days now, and he was sick of it.
He hadn’t meant to lose his temper like that. He had _meant_… well, in truth, he hadn’t been entirely sure what he was going to say until he was about to say it. All he knew was that he had seen Draco with that other bloke – _kissing _that other bloke, in public no less – and the only thing he could think about was the fact that Draco was obviously interested in being more serious with men than he had previously let on, at least to the point where he was willing to be seen with them in the wizarding world.
And in that moment, two things had passed through his mind simultaneously.
The first was what Paul and David had talked to him about, the way that Harry had been hard to get to know, had kept his distance from his lovers from so long that it was practically second nature. Harry had thought it over quite a bit since then, and had realized that he might very well be responsible, or at least partially so, for the fact that Draco didn’t choose to pursue a relationship with him.
Draco didn’t _know _Harry was open to that kind of relationship, because Harry had never said he was. Neither of them had ever said.
And now, well, it seemed as if there was a chance.
On the other hand, Harry had also been, at the very same time, faced with the reality that Draco was with someone else. The only thing Harry could hope was that it wasn’tall that serious with the tall brunet – preferably not exclusive – and that Draco would welcome the possibility of ending things with him in favor of Harry and rekindling what they had together.
He had been wrong on both counts.
_It’s new_, Draco had said when Harry asked how serious it was. But Harry also couldn’t help the sting he felt when Draco added (a bit pointedly) that it was also monogamous. | e1dd1e070f874ea09a675150f35ffa11 | ['b0f11215e6ff4417a259e663d23a4b25'] | He was trembling with need at the sensation, at the way blood throbbed almost painfully against Harry’s mouth.
“And up the other side.”
Harry complied, his eyes closed, as if savoring it.
“Kiss the tip. Taste my precum.”
Harry supported himself on his elbows, his mouth only an inch away. He opened his eyes and looked at Draco, and held the gaze with burning heat as his lips parted, then wrapped lovingly around the domed head in a sensual kiss.
The feel of it was almost like coming, so close, in fact, that a desperate cry was ripped from Draco’s throat. He didn’t close his eyes, though. He kept them on Harry.
“Do it again,” he said. “But take more this time. Another inch.”
This was where the world existed, he realized. Everything had narrowed to those couple of inches and the lips that surrounded them, and the tongue that was tasting them.
“Swirl around the head with your tongue,” he practically begged, “then take me deeper, as deep as you can.”
That turned out to be pretty damn deep, Draco learned as he watched his cock disappear between those swollen pink lips. Harry paused momentarily, breathing deeply through his nose, but then kept going until Draco felt himself hit the back of Harry’s throat.
For all his talk about how expertise was overrated, Harry sure did know how to suck a cock. Not that Draco was surprised.
“Harry!” he mewled, teetering dangerously close to the brink. He wasn’t sure he was capable of more instruction. He didn’t even know _what_ he wanted, only that he needed it. “Please, Harry! I can’t… I need… Gods, just make me _come_. I’m so close. I just need… fuck! I need…”
But Harry knew what he needed. His lips tightened around the base of Draco’s erection, and he moved up and down, slowly, giving Draco a little bit of friction, enough to get him good and primed. Then he took Draco as deep as he could again, gazing up at the blond with shining green eyes. And then he swallowed, and his throat tightened around Draco, and Draco – panting, staring into those green orbs – came in a series of intense, delicious pulses that Harry chugged like pumpkin juice.
Draco had no voice left to express this, this incredible pleasure, so he simply gaped at Harry in blissful shock, watching him take it all as Harry was watching him come.
Eventually, some eternity later, he was spent, and he lay back against the pillow, gasping for breath.
_Where has this been all my life?_ He found himself wondering. Why had he spent so much of his adult life self-conscious about sex, wondering if he was doing, saying, feeling the right things? Why had it taken him so long to just exist like this, in the moment, loving sex for its own sake? He didn’t know.
He opened his eyes, ready to praise Harry for such a brilliant idea, but the words caught in his throat at the sight of Harry kneeling above him, stroking himself in a state of unhindered arousal.
“What are you doing?” he managed.
“That was the sexiest fucking thing I have ever done,” Harry said, his eyes boring into Draco’s. “I have to come.”
Draco shook his head. “Not like this.”
“What-“
But Harry never had a chance to finish, because Draco had mustered the strength to sit up, grab him around the middle, and toss him to the bed so he was lying on his back. He grabbed Harry’s hands and pinned them down, keeping him from touching himself.
“My turn,” he said, and dove right in.
He knew now wasn’t the time for teasing, so he took Harry’s cock right into his mouth, beyond thinking, beyond worrying. He simply sucked, and bobbed, and sucked some more, spurred on by the way Harry was squirming and sobbing under him. He took Harry as deep as he could, until he nearly choked, but then backed off, using his tongue and the tightening of his lips to continue to stimulate Harry. He didn’t have to learn how to deep throat a man in one lesson. For right now, with the small weight of Harry’s hand on his blond head, guiding him, gripping him, encouraging him, Draco knew his mere desire to do this was enough, and that Harry was going to come crying his name.
He sucked harder, one hand reaching to fondle Harry’s sac, and Harry moaned with abandon.
“I’m coming, Draco!” he cried. “Oh, Gods… fuck! I’m coming in your mouth!”
He was right, of course, and Draco breathed through his nose, ready for it. When Harry started coming in powerful spurts, Draco did his best to swallow the salty liquid, trying not to splutter as it hit the back of his throat. He managed well, for his first time, he thought, though he did have to release Harry when it became too much. He made sure to stroke Harry gently the rest of the way until the man was fully spent and moaning in satisfaction.
A stream of thick white cum was dripping down the side of Harry’s softening cock, and Draco looked at it curiously. Deciding he may as well start getting used to the taste of semen, he licked at it, cleaning Harry’s groin with his mouth the way Harry had talked about earlier.
When he’d gotten all of it he looked up to see Harry watching him with hooded eyes.
“Sweet Merlin, Draco,” the man said. “And I didn’t think you could _get_ any sexier.”
Draco smiled at him, wiping a bit of cum from the corner of his mouth.
“Come here.”
Draco slid up Harry’s body, careful of their still sensitive members, but otherwise enjoying the feel of skin on skin. He kissed Harry, using his tongue, so they could each taste themselves.
“I told you,” Harry said, once Draco had lain down fully next to him. “Enthusiasm wins every time.” |
e770b6864e354eccb8d661368efc761c | ['b0f55ff1909440b1ad81471ae0aee55d'] | Arakita has been shouting at Manami to get back home if he's not going to do anything productive. By Friday, Fukutomi found out that Toudou really wasn't doing much in tutoring Manami, and that it would have been a lot better for him to just go home at that point. He actually came to knock on their door just to say that. Manami then points out that he already paid to be there till Sunday, and that it would be such a waste of money to leave in the middle of everything. In response, Fukutomi just instructs Manami and Toudou to follow him back to his own room, hands the younger boy 3 more exercise books to add to his original dozen with the order to finish doing all the exercises before Sunday ends, with the threat of suspending him from club activities if he doesn't finish at least half. Manami pouts and mutters a weak agreement, looking over at Toudou with eyes befitting a kicked puppy. Toudou shrugs, pulls him back to their shared room for the week.
"Toudou-san."
"What is it, Manami?"
"I still don't get this."
Toudou cranes his neck over to better see the boy sitting cross-legged on the loor in a mess of paper and reference books (all Toudou's). Manami's scratching his head with the back of a pencil, messing up his already constantly messy hair. Toudou peers at the question book in front of the younger boy, sees a simple trigonometry question, frowns, and looks up at Manami's face. Hopeful.
His eyes are saying 'Please help me, Toudou-san.'
A sigh, he gets up from the table, puts away his almost finished homework, and makes his way over to sit beside Manami. There really isn't that much space on the floor, so they end up bumping shoulders and thighs, trying to not actually sit on any books or step on any of Manami's stationery. He shows Manami the way to do the problem on some scrap paper and stumpy pencil he salvaged from the mess on the floor. Manami doesn't look very interested in whatever he asked Toudou to write, but he listens, and copies the work into the exercise book labelled '5'. He asks for further explanation on some of the things he didn't understand, and Toudou answers them without much problem.
"Do you think you'll be able to pass your exam next week with this?" Toudou asks while he lets Manami solve a question on his own. He watches as the younger boy writes and rewrites the formulas, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sweat is forming on his temple.
"To be honest, not at all," Manami says with a smile.
Toudou wonders what the point of all this is.
Manami passes the Maths exam, but fails the English exam.
"Toudou-san is cool. Don't you think so, Arakita-san?"
Arakita almost chokes on his Pocari; he ends up coughing a lot and worrying the younger club members. Manami laughs but pats his back in an attempt to soothe the coughing while Arakita himself wipes the Pocari running down his chin with a tissue paper passed on by a worried junior. He mutters his gratitude to said junior, who smiles nervously and quickly walks out of the clubhouse along with a few other club members.
"Who are you and what did you do to our Manami?" Arakita snarls, clutching the tissue paper in his hand.
"Eh?"
"You going and saying people are cool; that's so not you."
"...What is your impression of me, Arakita-san?"
Arakita takes a huge sip of his Pocari instead of answering. Manami doesn't seem to actually want an answer though. He's staring out at the race track and is watching Fukutomi give instructions to the second and first years. Next to them is the third years, being led by Toudou. The third years group is the most lively out of them all, mostly because of Toudou's loud talking, extravagant gestures and joyful teasing of his fellow teammates. Or he could be talking about girls again. It's almost always about girls. Arakita watches Manami's smile getting smaller, softening when his eyes slide over to the general area that the third years are. He pretends to not see, but clicks his tongue anyway, taking another sip of his drink before grabbing Manami by the shoulder and telling him to go practice on the rollers for the next hour or so. Fuku-chan's orders.
"I've been on the rollers all day..."
"Tell that to Fuku-chan," Arakita grabs his own bicycle, to join Manami in practice.
"Let me climb some hills."
"I don't care! Tell that to Fuku-chan! We're going on the rollers!"
Even though Manami whines loudly, he follows his senior and gets on the rollers without much further complaint. They get a club member who isn't particularly doing anything to keep time for them. When Fukutomi comes into the clubhouse with Shinkai in tow, Manami asks to be let to go climb the hills for a while. It took a lot of persuading, but Shinkai finally manages to coax Fukutomi to let Manami does so, on the condition that he lets Kuroda come with, so that he doesn't end up straying too far from the school.
Arakita wonders who will cave in and confess first.
"I think he might like you a lot, y' know" says Arakita five days after Manami asked him if he thought Toudou, of all people, was cool.
Toudou blinks, halfway through unbuttoning his school shirt; his hair not hold up by his usual headband for the act of changing into their cycling jersey. Only he, Arakita and Manami are still in the locker room; the rest have already moved on to the practice grounds.
"And who wouldn't?"
Arakita snarls.
"A lot of people. You're too full of yourself." | 82ca080747364024bffe8d60f911b8e2 | ['b0f55ff1909440b1ad81471ae0aee55d'] | “Yeah! That doctor that examined me? That lady one? She really liked how I seemed to be really ‘concerned over the patient’,” Toudou sets down his chopsticks and makes quotation marks with his fingers for ‘concerned’ and ‘patient’. Makishima feels himself smile at that; he picks his chopsticks up again, deciding that he should really eat his ramen before they get cold. But Toudou didn’t want to stop the conversation at that, apparently.
“You really should have told me, though. To let me steel myself, at least.”
Makishima closes his eyes. Takes a long sip of his drink.
“I admit was wrong.”
When he opens his eyes, sees Toudou smiling at him, not a smirk or one of his open toothed grins; but an honest, fond, smile.
“It’s okay, Maki-chan.”
"You looked like you were really stressed about it, though."
"Hm. I didn't really like the subjects," he says, biting into a piece of fishcake, "I couldn't afford to fail it, though."
It's so like Toudou to misunderstand what he means, Makishima thinks as he sips on salty ramen broth, his thoughts wandering to the concerned looks Toudou gave him in the hospital that morning. A heavy feeling settles on his heart.
They spend the rest of the meal talking about small things. About how they haven’t gone biking lately. Their juniors are taking their first finals next month; they should probably check up on Onoda and Manami in the dorms to see how they’re doing. Fukutomi was talking about getting a new apartment. Arakita thinking of changing majors to engineering. When they ran out of topics to talk about, they just talked about school and cycling instead. Makishima tries to pay for the both of them, but then Toudou argues that he hasn’t treated ‘his Maki-chan to a meal lately’ (Makishima turning into a bright shade of red at ‘his Maki-chan’) and it was supposed to be his turn to cook anyway, so he pays for the both of them, and somehow manages to make the female cashier swoon over him in the process.
“You got her number.”
“I’m not going to call it.”
“You accepted it, sho.”
“What? Are you jealous? Okay, I’m going to throw this away!” Toudou rips the paper with the girl’s name and number into smaller pieces, and then lets the wind blow them away from his hands, “See?”
Makishima turns around, brushing his hair away from his neck.
“It’s not like I was jealous.”
However, as Toudou would point out to his roommate-fellow student-cyclist-boyfriend, the walk home after that was noticeably more pleasant, with how Makishima was even more open to holding his hand for the last few blocks before reaching their apartment. They’re laughing at some mildly gorey, nerdy medical joke when they finally reach their apartments. Toudou spends another hour or so in the bathroom, grooming himself for the night.
Makishima gives him a good night kiss before they both retire to their respective rooms, and a whispered ‘Sorry for... the thing with your exam, Jinpachi.’
' _I just wanted to be supportive_ ,' goes unsaid.
Toudou presses a small kiss onto the other’s chin, right on his small mole.
“Good night, Yuusuke.”
**Author's Note:**
> Ascites; "Accumulation of fluid in the peritoneal cavity, causing abdominal swelling."
> Taking history; Basically when doctors ask you about what's ailing you. Might sound like small talk sometimes.
> In this fic; they're in their early 20's, around the third year of medical school. |
d2acce90326247ef815e3d0c2133a2e5 | ['b103e5b8fdec4d908c6adb5fa67cc5a1'] | Fili melted further into his seat, letting out a long and wistful sigh as he stared longingly out the window in Balin's study. They were entering his third hour of history lessons and the prince was getting restless, especially without Kili there to entertain him when Balin's back was turned.
He would trade anything to be outside right now. The sun was so bright today, a light breeze blowing gently through the open window. He could hear the squeals and giggling of dwarflings in the streets below. Sparring with Kili would be nice; Fili just had too much energy to be sitting here for another hour. He'd gladly endure extra drills from Dwalin if it meant not having to sit still anymore.
The old warrior was demanding (and perhaps terrifying if one hadn't grown up with him) but fair. If the brothers paid attention and did what he asked—or commanded, rather—Dwalin was willing to turn to blind eye for a while and allow the two to fool around and roughhouse like dwarflings. Well, he was willing until there were pranks involved, but it was nothing a good cuff to the back of the head or a collision of skulls couldn't fix.
Fili and Kili were aware of Dwalin's soft spot for them. Really, he was as much of an uncle to them as Thorin was, but he understood that the boys needed time every now and then to be loud and crude and carefree. Dwalin was especially aware of Fili's need for an outlet. When the lad was younger, he would throw himself at his opponent, fighting and snarling like a starving street dog. He was a danger to himself and others in training. After that, the warrior spent extra time with Fili, showing him how to channel his pent up aggression into controlled energy. There was a definite improvement in Fili's focus over the years and he now fought with confidence and control.
If only that focus worked in other areas--
“ _Fili._ Are you listening?”
The prince startled, nearly knocking his books off the desk. “Yes! Yes, of course I am.”
Balin raised an eyebrow. “Can you tell me what we just went over?”
Fili was silent for a moment. “Durin....the...third's....Consort?” he visibly winced, his voice raising in octave with each word.
A sigh. “Well, you aren't wrong. We did cover that--”
Fili let out a sigh of relief.
“\--An _hour_ ago. I think we'll break here for now. Your focus is gone.”
That was the best thing he had heard all day. Fili scrambled out of his chair and stretched out like a cat. “Master Balin?”
“Yes, my lad?” Balin looked up from his documents.
Fili clasped his hands behind his back and gave the older dwarf the most innocent and hopeful expression he could muster. “Have you perhaps reconsidered allowing Kili and I to share our lessons again? We've grown since the last time, really! You'll have our undivided attention when you're speaking and all our assignments will be in on time.”
Balin fixed him with _The Look._ “Fili, I'm going to give you the same answer I gave your brother yesterday. And two days before that. And the week before that, as well: Absolutely not. The more restless the two of you are together, the more damage my office endures.”
Fili pouted. Honestly, shatter a pot of ink all over the floor _one time_ and they never let it go. It was two years ago and the stains were _barely_ noticeable anymore. If one squinted.
“Master Balin, I swear, we won't break things again. We really have matured.” He tried, looking the white-haired dwarf in the eye and giving a confident nod. “And it would add so much more to the lessons with another person's input. I mean, not that you're _boring,_ you're very interesting, honest--”
Balin raised a hand, motioning for silence. “Laddie, I know you would rather be elsewhere, but these lessons are just as important as your training with Dwalin. If you don't know the history of your people and your ancestors, how could you successfully rule a kingdom? A king must be aware of the accomplishments of their people and learn from their mistakes to reduce future suffering.
“Like it or not, Fili, but you're Thorin's heir. Once Erebor is reclaimed, you will eventually take throne. And I'm going to make sure you're prepared for that.” The elder dwarf noticed the grimace on the prince's face and paused. His voice gentled. “This might all seem pointless to you right now, I know this. Erebor seems like nothing but a fairy story, but if anyone can make it a reality, it's your uncle.” Balin smiled, laying his hand on the young prince's shoulder. “This is in your blood, Fili, as a descendant of Durin. And I know that one day, you will make an excellent king.”
Though his physical touch was light, the weight of Balin's words added to the ever present burden on Fili's shoulders, joining the family obligations and the expectations he had to reach.
Balin ended their break after that, leaving Fili with an even heavier heart.
- | 6a9331ba8e1e426384e947354a7c3f7c | ['b103e5b8fdec4d908c6adb5fa67cc5a1'] | On the positive side of things, Fili's injury meant everyone had insisted on him taking some time off to recover, which he accepted gladly. On the downside, _recovery_ meant lying in bed or sitting in a chair. No walking, no going outside, no _anything fun_ while everyone was away—which was most of the day _._ He had quickly crossed into the 'Bored to Tears' territory within the first few days. Fili had never been so idle. Perhaps he should take back what he said about rooms full of dusty tomes. He would gladly take that over frustrating failed wood carvings and the books around that failed to capture his attention. Fili attempted playing his fiddle, but it was never much fun playing alone.
His recovery break had given him a lot of time to think. About Thorin, specifically, and how little he was around the house anymore. Upon coming home from the disastrous adventure, Fili found out Thorin wasn't even _in_ Ered Luin. Off on a trip to a nearby town, Dis had said. It wasn't that surprising, really. Thorin had been leaving more frequently, meeting with people in and out of town. Never saying who or what for, and being aggravatingly secretive. What was odd, Fili thought, was that Dwalin hadn't accompanied him this time. Did they set it up that way? Keep the brothers busy so they wouldn't ask questions? He really needed to stop obsessing over this; trying to work out what his uncle was doing wasn't fun anymore, it was just irritating him. He'd hoped Thorin was at least taking care of himself. His uncle could be so single-minded when he had his heart set on things.
It was the third day after their return that Fili had even seen Thorin. He was nodding off in the cushioned chair in the living area when the creaking of the front door stirred him. He blinked away the fuzziness of his nap before turning in his chair, giving Thorin a tired smile. “It's been a while since I've seen you.”
Thorin looked up immediately, working his boots off. “Fili. How are you? I heard you had quite the trip.”
_Better than you look,_ he thought, noticing the bags beneath his uncle's eyes and the additional silver that ran through his hair. “ _Bored._ But fine, otherwise. It's just a sprain, I'll be on my feet soon enough. Did you just get in?”
“Yesterday,” he replied, releasing his hair from the low ponytail he usually kept it in while he worked. “I checked in on you, but you were asleep. Kili and your amad filled me in on what had happened.” he gave Fili a brief smile. “Heard about the row she had with Dwalin afterwards.”
Fili snorted in amusement. “I'd hardly call it a 'row' when the yelling was completely one-sided. I think the whole neighbourhood heard it.”
“I wouldn't doubt it.” Thorin sank into the seat opposite Fili's, melting against the back of it, his eyes drooping shut.
Fili's smile faded. “If you're that tired, you should go rest. We'll wake you before supper.”
Thorin opened his eyes and shook his head. “No. I need to meet with some officials about the settlement soon. I simply came back to clean myself up and check on you.”
He tried very hard to not sound as disappointed as he felt. “Uncle. When's the last time you had a full night's sleep? Or eaten at home?”
Thorin frowned. “Fili, don't start this. I get enough of it from your mother.”
“Then maybe you should listen to her.” he sat up straighter, staring his uncle down. “I know the taking care of the settlement keeps you busy and the smithy. I know you can't just shirk those duties, but this extra project you have going? It's going to _kill_ you, if you keep up with the pace you're at. You're just a dwarf, Uncle, you're going to run yourself into the ground if you don't start caring for yourself.”
“Enough.” he growled in warning, clutching the arms of the chair until his knuckles went white.
“And what good are you to anyone, yourself included, if you just drop dead before your time? We've had enough loss in this family already--”
“I said _enough_ !” Thorin barked, raising from his seat. “I will not have you speaking to me like I'm so dwarfling. You know _nothing_ of what I'm trying to do.”
Fili stood—sat, more accurately—his ground, his eyes narrowing. “Then _enlighten_ me, dear Uncle.” he challenged lowly. “I would love to learn about this secret you've been obsessing over.”
Thorin's jaw set and he inhaled deeply through his nose a few times, looking out the window as if to collect his patience again. It was impressive, really, that he wasn't yelling at Fili already. It took a few more moments until Thorin spoke again. “I cannot yet.”
Fili threw himself back into his chair, frustrated. “Of course you can't. No one can, or will. I'm your _heir_ , Thorin, don't I have a right to know what you're doing if it's this important?”
Thorin finally met his eyes again. “Not this time. Not so early in the planning--”
“So it _is_ about Erebor, then.” the prince's eyes narrowed.
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“You didn't need to. You wouldn't get this worked up over anything else. So why can't you tell me? I won't tell Amad, or even Kili, I promise—”
“Because it is none of your concern right now, Fili.” he began to walk towards the hall. Thorin hesitated and then turned to his sister-son again. “It is about Erebor, yes. But that is all you need to know right now.”
Fili carefully got to his feet, wincing as he put too much pressure on his ankle at first. “So you're going to reclaim it. Actually doing it this time?”
“Sit down.” |
3e0caff25ee347408e1747b52d7bdc5f | ['b11c429386574d119d09019b70e98b06'] |
The Weight of a Hero
**Author's Note:**
> ok after a long night of contemplation, i happened to write this. the fic does incorporate some canon events pertaining to tododeku.
Todoroki scaled to the top of a half-torn building so he could scope the battleground. There were chunks of wrecked high-rises scattered all over the battle scene. Some of the slabs were deeply lodged into the ground, protruding from the earth like a bed of crystals stuck out from the ground. The night sky in Replica City District was unusually blotted with thick and dark gray clouds, almost as if the sky itself was upset.
There were raging fires near the outskirts of the district. He could see Mount Lady and a few other undistinguishable figures putting out the fires. Spirals of smoke gushed into the sky as if someone had set bonfires all over the city.
Todoroki was already leaping from roof to roof as he headed to Yuuei where Midoriya was fighting. They were initially paired together but circumstances soon called for their separation. Todoroki stayed behind in the city streets to protect civilians from a villain while Midoriya headed to the school.
“Stay alive,” was all he had said to Midoriya.
“You too, Shouto.”
And then Midoriya fled into the night.
Todoroki was coming in from the east, heading to Yuuei, when he heard an explosion. Then came the upward flow of pitch-black smoke from some location in the western side of the city. He swore he heard faint echoes of Bakugou’s enraged voice. Maybe it was a battle cry.
Another explosion reverberated but this time it came from the school. One of the school buildings had blown up, drafting an unnatural force of wind that sent all the debris flying out of Yuuei territory.
Todoroki leapt down from the roof and quickly took cover behind a wall. The debris had flown at least three kilometers in distance and they came smashing into the streets, battering cars and crushing traffic signs. Rubbles of cement came in drizzles. A few of the smaller pieces bounced off Todoroki’s arms.
Once the coast was clear, he leapt back onto the roof and headed to Yuuei again. There was something unsettling about not being able to see Midoriya during battle, and it made him run all the more faster. His heartbeat thumped quicker at the image of a staggering Midoriya with broken fingers, body adorned with bruises and cuts. Midoriya was the kind of hero who fought with every single inch of his being; he poured all of his strength into his attacks, and Todoroki intended to be there when his energy failed him and his body slackened with exhaustion.
All he needed was some more time to get there and he hoped Midoriya could hold on until then.
* * *
The impact from what was most likely a collision between Midoriya and his opponent generated a golden beam of light that pierced through the clouds. The beam then expanded in width, morphing into a semi-circle that barricaded all of Yuuei away from the world.
Todoroki had just arrived within a fifty feet radius of Yuuei when this happened. He was rushing through the streets, no longer running on top of roofs because these buildings’ roofs had all collapsed or unsteadily caved in. When he got a clear view of the golden force field, trapping Midoriya alone, he picked up the pace but he was too worried to notice the energy waves coiling from inside the barrier.
Suddenly, another big and bright beam of light flashed inside. Todoroki spotted a flash of silver, lightning perhaps, and then a large crack appeared from the top of the force field. The crack started to run raggedly, forcing the force field open, and a warm breeze came gushing at Todoroki. When the force field completely broke, the coiled energy was unleashed in all directions. A furious blast of wind and debris sent him flying away no matter how hard he fought to stand his ground.
Todoroki blocked his face with his arms in protection. He was thrown a great distance back and his shoulder slammed against a traffic light pole before he brutally smashed through a wall. The instant hot pang in his shoulder sent his arm into a brief fit of spasms. Even lifting his head to look up was too painful. His back terribly ached as he tore himself away from the wall. There was a mold of his body imprinted in the wall. He stumbled for balance during his first few steps but the moment he regained his senses, he dashed to Yuuei.
This unsettling sensation he felt- it had always been there. He just never experienced it to this extent and it kept growing as he ran through the streets. Yuuei was no longer a school. It was a crater in the earth now.
Todoroki didn’t look at the sky as he skidded down the crater where Midoriya lied in the center face down with his limbs placed in all sorts of unnatural angles. One of his arms was folded beneath his body. His leg was bent to an unimaginable degree that the human body could never do on its own will.
“Izuku,” Todoroki said. It felt like a whisper to him, barely audible. The moment he set sight on Midoriya’s battered form from the top of the crater, he knew what this unsettling sensation was. After he fought Midoriya during the department tournament, he knew that the fear of losing someone important would be a problem. He knew it was already a problem when he received Midoriya’s mysterious location text in Hosu; he immediately took off running to help Midoriya and Iida. He remembered telling Iida the precious words Midoriya spoke to him during their tournament round. _Set your eyes on the man you want to be!_ He let Midoriya into his world the moment he said these words.
Todoroki stepped closer. | fc27e721d9a140778b05b03309fe7742 | ['b11c429386574d119d09019b70e98b06'] | The sun beams down on him, caressing his face with its warmth. There’s always been something about the water. Something about the water sending him off on his way. Now if only the creature would come and take him. He’s willing to go through the whole motion again, anything to get back the missing piece.
The sunlight can no longer reach him now that he’s fully submerged under water and the weight lulls his eyes to sleep.
♱♡‿♡♰
_Kuroko spent all day cruising the streets in search for his little dog. The sun was just setting when he finally spotted Nigou skittering around the corner. He immediately chased after it._
_By the time he caught up with the energetic pup, he was on the verge of entering the mountains. He paused and looked over his shoulder, glancing at the townscape behind him. He could hear his grandmother’s grave voice instructing him not to enter the mountains. “Children shouldn’t enter those places, Tetsuya. Come home before sunset, understood?”_
_But Nigou, the young Kuroko thought._
_With his grandmother occupied with shrine duties, he knew he’d be alone once again if the pup was to disappear. He didn’t want another lonely summer in an unfamiliar town._
_He mustered up his courage and stepped a foot into the woods._
_He knew he’d need courage- courage for breaking his promise with his grandmother, courage for pursuing the thing he held dearly to his heart, and courage for entering the unknown._
_…_
_Kuroko wasn’t sure how long he had been searching and wandering around. It didn’t feel like he was in the mountains anymore. It was a mixture of mountains and forests. Everything felt much more vast than he expected and the thick trees towered over his small frame. The branches blocked the sky from his sight and formed its own sky full of shadowy leaves. Not even the moon’s light could find a crack to shine through._
_It was almost as if he was in a different world._
_Everything was still. The mountain was silent. There wasn’t even the whistling of the usual evening breeze._
_“Nigou,” the young boy murmured softly. There was a growing tension in his stomach. It churned with apprehension. The fear of losing himself in the woods all because he wanted to find his beloved friend, the thought of never seeing his grandmother, it made him want to cry._
_But no tears welled up in those precious blue eyes, because there was still hope._
_“When in trouble, hold fast onto your heart, Tetsuya. Never give in to the darkness. Those who don’t surrender to the darkness will always find their way back.”_
_Kuroko remembered his grandmother’s words and clung onto it. The courage that’s begun to crumble, he eagerly tried to maintain and hoped to build up once more. There was no going back. He was too far into the mountains or wherever he was._
_If he were to return, he’d rather return with Nigou in his arms and not empty-handed, anything but empty-handed._
_…_
_Kuroko traveled in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. The further he went, the more uncertain he became. Shapes, unearthly shapes, began to take form. He didn’t know how or why, but he was sure he spotted shadows darting all around him._
_Nothing was still anymore but everything remained silent._
_The darkness crept upon him. Sometimes he thought he felt a brush on the back of his neck or a soft yet faraway touch trailing down from his elbow to his wrist. He knew he wasn’t alone anymore._
_His footsteps quickened, matching the pace of his heartbeat. The fear he suppressed was soon unleashed when he felt the root he just stepped on latch onto his ankle. Finger-like appendages dug into his skin. What was supposed to be nails felt like claws and that’s all it took for the young boy to hastily free his ankle and flee._
_Kuroko only knew one way. Forward. There was no backwards._
_…_
_There was a breeze._
_Kuroko could feel the air whipping at him but that was only because he was running as fast as he could. That was only because he was running for his life, only because he wanted to flee from this unfamiliar world._
_“Nigou!” he shouted, desperate. “Nigou! Where are you?”_
_In the far distance, he heard the chiming of bells, much like the ones his grandmother shook for her shrine duties. Kuroko paused in the middle of running, thinking that perhaps his grandmother had come for him. Instead, he spotted a glowing blue sphere from far away. It wasn’t only one sphere but a line of floating, gas-like orbs. The string of lights floated in his direction and then he took off running again, charging forward._
_…_
_Somewhere, some time during his run, he heard Nigou’s barking and followed the calling. His heart was ecstatic. Even if he was lost, even if he was in a completely unfamiliar world, he found Nigou. Finally. He wouldn’t be alone anymore._
_Kuroko tore through the bushes. The sharp twigs and the juts of branches scratched him, leaving vivid red lashes on his arms, knees and legs. He made it past the bushes and found himself standing at the edge of a clearing. The sound of water filled his ears and his eyes drifted over to the source- a river._
_Nigou stood by the river, barking happily while wagging its tail excitedly. The dog lowered its head and lapped at the water with its tongue. Comforted by the familiar sight, Kuroko broke out into a run and hugged the pup close to his chest._
_“Nigou, don’t you ever dare run away again,” the boy chided, relieved._
_There was a grumbling sound, dark and full of hunger. Everything happened so quickly. Nigou’s paws morphed into webbed hands with talons for trimmed nails. Kuroko was shoved flat onto his back. Slime dripped from the creature’s parted mouth as it hungrily growled and lowered its face._ |
efdba77ca8834ee6ad6bb9d83977bc0e | ['b122327c9b01483f9077247af67a4031'] |
America Issa Joke!
**Author's Note:**
> I know we all have different opinions and political stances so don’t send me hate for this story. I just wondered what would happen if Steve met someone who wasn’t patriotic and this is the result. Most readers probably won’t be fond of this story because of how the reader is and some things she might say but I think you should still read it, even if you aren’t a woc or don’t agree with anything being said. Just substitute the reader inserts for a character or a name you, Idk. Remember it’s a work of fiction! Just because I wrote this doesn’t mean I think like this or whatever. I’m expecting hate for this so show me wrong? Anyways I hope y'all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated! (REPOSTED FROM MY TUMBLR ACCOUNT)
You were in the common room that morning when Steve bounded in with a wide smile gracing his lips. Your feet were up on the coffee table and a big bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch was in your hands as you watched some reality tv show Natasha had on. “FRIDAY call the rest of the team to the living room, please.” Steve knocked your boots off the table and fixed you with a pointed look after he spoke his request to the A.I. You let out a huff as your combat boots came down with a loud thud and a bit of milk splashed onto your caramel colored arm.
“Nice one Steve,” getting up you flipped him the bird and took your bowl to the kitchen sink as the rest of the Avengers started to flood into the common area. Steve ignored your childish antics and clapped his hands together once everyone was in attendance. He bent to pick up the remote and put the tv on mute just as you returned to your seat on the couch.
“So what is it that you want Cap?” Wanda loosely crosses her arms over her chest and sat next to you. You placed your thick boots back onto the coffee table and looked up at Captain America.
“Yeah Cap ‘sup?” He just pushed your boots off the table again and looked around the room, ignoring you completely.
“So as you guys may know the 4th of July is in a couple of days and I was thinking we should throw a patriotic party for the occasion!” Tony looked around the room in pretend shock and placed his fists on his hips as he glanced over at Steve.
“I thought I was the only one that threw parties around here?” The common room erupted with laughter, everyone was laughing except you. It’s not that you didn’t think the joke was funny, because it was kinda funny, but the situation kind of annoyed you. The 4th of July stood against everything you believed in. The holiday was a totally scam but you didn’t speak up. You didn’t say anything until Steve went around assigning your teammates roles and errands to prepare for the party.
“…with Bruce. Y/n you’ll be in charge of decorating,” you snorted and shook your head.
“No bueno Cap. I want no part of this little get together you have planned. Give my job to someone else please.” Steve stopped and glanced at you.
“And why is that? Everyone else already has a task. I’m pretty sure they won’t have enough time to take care of the decorations on top for whatever else they have to do.”
“Well they’re just gonna have to find the time because I don’t want to be a part of any of this. As a matter of fact I think I might just take a small vacation away from the compound while you guys have your fun.” The rest of the room was deadly quiet everyone was so confused. They all knew you could be a little difficult but no has ever seen you this stubborn before and that’s saying something. You could be as stubborn as a mule after all.
“Why y/n? What’s wrong?” Steve now had concern written across his face. He thought maybe you needed a break or possibly you were homesick. He didn’t expect what would come out of your mouth next.
“Why? Why! Because I don’t wanna be around to celebrate this shit show of a holiday! There’s literally nothing special about it.” You scoffed, and glanced at your black painted nails, as if it were obvious from the beginning. Steve frowned and looked over at Natasha in confusion, who in turn just shrugged and also glanced at her nails. Steve looked down at you and placed the clipboard he had picked up on the coffee table, while Vision leaned against the back of the couch to whisper something to Wanda.
“What do you mean y/n? It’s the day our nation declared it’s independence. How is that not special?”
“You mean a nation built on stolen land and slavery, right? I mean African Americans weren’t freed until June 19, 1865 but you don’t see that being a national holiday. You don’t see everyone celebrating it. Just some African Americans right?” Tony’s eyes widened and Clint took this as his cue to silently leave the room. He was too old to get in the middle of this. Sam smirked from across the other side of the room while Natasha and Wanda just watched on silently.
“Well-” Steve was cut off when you abruptly stood up.
“Well what Steve? Were you gonna say, 'it’s not like that anymore.’ We may not be stealing land anymore but if I’m not mistaken my black sisters and brothers are being locked up and beat up everyday for the dumbest shit, even though we’re-” Your hands came up and made quotation signs in the air -“free. We can’t even walk down the street in our own neighborhoods without being antagonized or possibly worse. It’s a modern version of slavery if you ask me.”
“I-” | 02d580e719b444478f845cf15f154ef2 | ['b122327c9b01483f9077247af67a4031'] | Sometimes he would even claim that you guys actually liked each other and just didn’t know how else to express it. Of course you liked Dean but you knew that Dean didn’t feel the same way and you always got mad when Sam would talk about how Dean had a crush on you. Sam would even say that Dean was the first to call “dibs” on you when you guys first met. You never believed in Sam’s lies of course. You just couldn’t see how a guy like Dean would want anything with a girl like you. It just didn’t make sense in your eyes. Dean was a rugged, classic rock, meat loving, ladies man after all. While you were one of those chicks that usually only got asked out because of a dare between friends. You weren’t ugly just not an eye catcher and your love for literature, fine arts, and sci-fi movies, surely didn’t make you an interesting catch.
You never believed you could catch the eye of Dean Winchester.
After an hour or so of driving, you lost track of time, the bunker came into view and a sigh of relief left your lips. It was two in the morning an your body felt hella stiff, you were definitely ready for bed. You grabbed your bag from the trunk and made your way to the front door in silence. Once you were in the bunker you threw your bag onto a table in the library and made a beeline for the kitchen as you were starving. You washed your hands and started pulling items to make a sandwich out of the fridge. When you reached to the very back, in search of the mustard, you hissed with pain as your arm begin to burn from the stretch. “Don’t you think you should get fixed up first before you eat?” Dean’s deep voice caused you to jump and knock your head against the top of the fridge.
“God damn it! Why must you sneak up on me like that?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You turned around with the bottle of mustard clutched in your hand while your other one was pressed against the injury on your arm.
“Its…it’s okay. And for starters food is way more important right now.” You put the mustard down on the counter and smiled at him.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that Princess.” Dean rose from where he leaned on the counter and nodded towards your arm. You followed his gaze and noticed it had began to bleed through the fabric of his shirt. You pouted and he returned it with a sad smile. “Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” You put your sandwich crafting on hold and followed Dean to the bathroom where you popped a squat on the covered toilet. He busied himself with finding the medical supply kit and then picking out the right materials for this particular task. Once everything was ready he looked over at you. “I think you should sit on the counter. You know so I don’t have to kneel.” You nodded and silently obeyed.
Once you were sat down Dean stood between your open legs and slowly began unwinding his shirt from your wounded flesh. You took in a sharp breath when it snagged a bit. Dean gave you an apologetic look and threw the bloody garment to the floor. After he set to work with sterilizing and then carefully stitching up your wound. Each tug of the needle pulled a whimper from your trembling lips as you tried not to cry. Finally after the fifth one he was done and began wrapping gauze around your arm. Dean made sure it wasn’t too tight and when he was done he looked up into your eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “(y/n) I’m sorry for acting like a dick lately.” Dean leaned closer, his candy apple eyes piercing (Y/E/C) ones, as he wiped away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.
Your head started to swim and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your injuries or because of how close he was. Dean had pushed your hair back behind your ear and softly began dabbing your bloody temple with a wet cloth. “Its okay Dean really… I’ve been kinda bitchy too. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not gonna argue with you there but I made it no better. I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I should’ve never let you hunt on your own. It’s my fault you’re hurt. I- I wasn’t there to protect you.” He pulled the washcloth away from your face and looked down as his grip tightened around it.
“Dean?”
“Hmm?” He refused to look up at you, fingers pulling at the cloth in his hands.
“Look at me,” Dean just shook his head instead. You placed your hands over his and rubbed circles into his skin before they relaxed and stopped trying to tear apart the washcloth he was still holding. You pulled the cloth from his hands and set it to the side then you place yours on either side of his face and made him look up at you. Dean’s lips were pulled into a thin line and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “It’s okay. I’m here and I’m alive. ”
“But look at you. It’s all my fault.”
“Dean I’ve been banged up worse than this before and you know it! I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have went on my own I mean the case was fishy right from the start. I should’ve known.” You let out a soft laugh to try and lighten the mood.
“This isn’t funny. I would’ve been responsible for your death. I… I can’t lose you.” He pulled himself from your grip and stepped back as a means to give you room but you grabbed at his shirt and tugged him close again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed your lips against his into a warm and gentle kiss. You knew this was risky, knew there was still a chance that he didn’t really like you, but he did just say he couldn’t lose you. Not to mention he looked so shook up so you took a chance.
At first he didn’t respond right away but after a minute or so his lips began moving against yours in a tentatively slow rhythm. A fuzzy warmth spread throughout your body and you were on cloud nine. One of Dean’s arms came around your waist as he deepened it and the other grabbed a fist full of your hair. His movements became faster and more rugged causing a pool of heat to gather at your core as your heart began to feel like it was gonna explode. His arm tightening around your waist caused you to flinch and he pulled away with regret and fear swimming in his eyes. “(y/n), I am so sorry! I didn’t mean- I was thinking with my dick.” You pushed him away and hissed in pain.
“Shut the fuck up Winchester! I’m in pain I’m not mad about what just happened.” Hope lit up his eyes before he realized you were bleeding again. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying and grabbed the hem of your shirt before slowly pulling it up. Your side had a gash in it that was bigger than the one on your arm. You looked up at Dean as he left to get a bottle of whiskey.
That night Dean took care of you the best he could, stitching you up and making you dinner. He slept in your room that night afraid that if he left you alone you’d disappear. He made sure to keep his space of course as to not upset your wounds and to show you some respect. He didn’t really know where you guys stood now. You initiated the kiss but he figured you weren’t in your right mind after almost becoming vamp chow. That didn’t stop he from being hopeful though. You were the kindest and smartest woman he knew, and although he didn’t deserve you he just hoped, and prayed that in the morning you wouldn’t regret the special moment you shared that night. |
f2dd3d0ad2e544d099dc76b212a9c383 | ['b1240d80ff8f4c71af7929f798066610'] | ‘And so I did not go to Dagorlad, to my shame, although older lads than I were kept at home in training for the last defence, should our warriors fail. Later I learned that Older Naneth had looked at me and seen me covered with blood, the blood of my father and my own mingling together. So my mother knew he would not come back, my father, but she knew that she did not have to lose both of us which she claimed was some comfort. But I, I did not know when he marched away that I would not see him again this side of the seas.’
Nestoril stared at him in astonishment. One of the things that had most troubled her was that she had no comparison for Tharmeduil, no other foresighted individuals she could ask about the mechanisms of their visions. And now here was Govon, with his tales of his great-grandmother…
‘We do not often speak of it,’ Govon continued, his tone almost apologetic for Nestoril was looking at him in such an odd way. ‘And Older Naneth certainly wrote nothing down or drew any images on paper. But perhaps that is simply because she never thought of it. Also, while she was respected, she was also considered by the neighbours as one to be feared, although there was nothing to her but kindness.’
He shrugged. ‘There was almost a fear of having the sight, an embarrassment, maybe. It may well be different for the son of the king, as it was different for the princes’ mother.’
‘People fear what they do not understand,’ Nestoril said softly. ‘But I have felt the lack of knowledge when it comes to Tharmeduil.’
‘If any of our family stories are of use, I will tell them gladly. But Older Naneth is no longer here. My mother went with her long ago on her final journey west.’
Nestoril arched an eyebrow at that. It was unusual for any of the Silvan elves to sail west, many preferring to stay amongst their beloved forests. In truth, there was some debate, still, as to how far west they would be permitted to sail, and in her mind this accounted for their reluctance to leave the known unless pressed by some extremity.
‘But you are not alone here, I think?’
‘No, my sister Merlinith keeps house with me. We were granted permission to keep our family chambers when our mother left.’
He paused as there was a knock at Nestoril’s door and one of her assistants came in bearing a tray with the makings of tea on it and a note.
‘The chamomile tea I was expecting,’ Nestoril said once the tea was poured and her assistant had left. ‘The note is a surprise. I am invited to join the entire royal family at High Table tonight. A post-script informs me that other guests are to include you, Govon, and your sister, to whom the formal invitation is being sent.’
‘When you say ‘invite’, I take it you mean ‘required to attend’? Or may I decline? And why am I invited?’
Nestoril looked at him with cool amusement. ‘As for my own invitation, I think it is because all the family are at table. Tharmeduil has not left his room in two weeks and I am his attending healer. And, yes, you could decline. But I would guess you are invited either because you were willing to speak to Prince Tharmeduil about your watch on the forest, or because the king knows you are his son’s friend…’ Govon groaned and Nestoril gave him a moment to compose himself before continuing. ‘…and so wishes to honour you…’
‘To honour me! To scare me off, most likely!’
‘And will he scare you off?’
‘No. No, he never could. I will attend, of course. Besides, Merlinith will love it! And I don’t doubt I will have to endure her flirting with Legolas, since she seems unable to help herself!’
Nestoril’s rich laugh rang out.
‘It is none of my business, and I know this,’ she began, sobering a little and sipping her tea. ‘But I have seen all three prince born and watched them grow up and I have nursed them through all their childhood ills. So it does my heart good when I see something happen to make any of them happy. You will not need it, but you have my support.’
‘Thank you, Healer.’ Govon finished his tea. ‘I suppose I had better go to my sister. She will have had the news and no doubt want to show me every item of clothing she possesses and ask to judge what is most fitting for the High Table.’ He sighed as he got to his feet. ‘And the sad thing is, I will probably know exactly what is right. Good day to you.’
41. Disappointed
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which Thranduil finds out more than he was expecting...
Thranduil stared around Tharmeduil’s room, waiting for an answer to his question and frustrated that Nestoril had left. It was she he had really wanted to speak to… yet perhaps that would be best done without an audience.
So. Both Iauron and Legolas present, which spoke well of their fraternal affection, but he could not shake the suspicion that something more was going on here today…
Nor could he help but notice that not one of his sons seemed interested in answering him.
‘Was there anything particularly difficult about my enquiry?’ he asked.
Legolas was looking exceptionally bright-eyed today, he realised. He liked to see his sons happy, and of late his youngest had seemed rather to be struggling. In fact, that trip into Mirkwood seemed to have done him the power of good and today he had seem especially cheerful… except now, for some unknown reason, his mood had changed.
What’s more, he was blushing.
Thranduil could not prevent an accusatory glance at Legolas. | 6b1fa67ffb4d4aa48adfebd6af9a671c | ['b1240d80ff8f4c71af7929f798066610'] | ‘The king your father has said he will see you once our meeting is over, which gives him time for his own meeting with Lord Arveldir. If you wish, I can attend with you…’
‘Thank you. It’s probably best you don’t. That way, if he feels the need to yell at me, he won’t have to hold back.’
‘Your father? Yell? I doubt he would ever do such a thing.’
‘Not often, no.’ Legolas shuddered. ‘Once is usually enough.’
‘Yes. I quite understand.’
*
‘No, Arveldir.’
‘But, my king…’
‘Legolas acted inappropriately, perhaps, but he meant well. Until proper quarters can be found for this improbable pairing, they are to be allowed to remain in the guest room. As to whether it makes it seem that we are encouraging same-sex pairings… that is a discussion for another day.’
‘But, sire…’
‘Must I repeat myself?’ Thranduil sighed. ‘I cannot make a pronouncement on a matter of such significance when I do not know my own position. And as my opinion as king and my feelings on the topic as a father may well be at variance. It requires time and consideration to come to a fair conclusion. Consider – has your own opinion remained unchanged?’
‘I am not a warrior. It is hardly the same…’
Thranduil’s one-eyed gaze was, if anything, more challenging than when he had two eyes at his disposal. He waited until Arveldir had flushed and looked away before continuing.
‘Make tactful enquires as to how many vowed same-sex couples there are amongst our warriors and let me know. Moving on, make sure Over-Captain Rawon knows what is expected for the guard. I will leave the execution up to him, but certain factors are uncertain and so he will need to wait.’
‘He knows, my king. He understands.’
‘Good. Now, if there is nothing more… I will see my son.’
‘Yes, my king.’
Thranduil waved Arveldir away and propped his chin in his hand, thinking, not thinking, allowing the thoughts to flow and merge and meld and lead him to some sort of conclusion. He had no idea if five minutes had passed or fifty when he heard the bustle that announced a visitor.
‘Father?’
Legolas.
As he straightened to look at his son, his thoughts took him back to the time he had called all his sons together before his throne, his three bright sons, Iauron so cavalier, such a waste of space, really; Tharmeduil, his secret hope for the future, so much his mother’s son, Legolas, his beautiful, secret favourite… That was the day he had told Legolas to remain and had spoken to him from his fëa, from his heart. The day he stopped pretending he didn’t know his youngest son was different. And now Legolas was the only one able to stand in front of him, and all Thranduil’s hopes lay dashed and tattered.
But his son, his Legolas, was happy.
Was it wrong how much more important that seemed right now?
‘Adar – I think you need to see the healers. Your eye is seeping.’
Thranduil cleared his throat.
‘It may be the smoke from the wall sconces. I will mention it to Nestoril. How was your breakfast briefing?’
Legolas attempted a grin.
‘Not brief enough, Adar. Good thing Govon had already left for work.’
‘You had better mention to him, then, that it will be a regular arrangement. At least while your brothers are ill.’
‘What’s going to happen about the Court Guard?’
‘Why? Is Govon worried for his job?’
‘He’s worried for his warriors’ jobs, I think.’
‘It is all in hand. I hear there is a special guest in the healer halls… Iauron’s human friend.’
‘Yes. Our paths crossed yesterday. I’m taking Govon to meet her later.’
‘That is, if I may say, rather courageous of you.’
‘Is it? I just thought… well.’
‘Whilst on the topic of your thoughts, would you please in future consult me before you overturn millennia of tradition on impulse? I have had Arveldir clucking and fluttering around like an offended matron this morning.’
Legolas grinned.
‘Sorry. That is – really, if it was a mistake, I’m sorry. But… Well. I’ve already had a lecture from Erestor.’
‘Hmm… I doubt he said he was disappointed in you, did he?’
Legolas looked at the stone floor between his feet for a moment.
‘No, Ada,’ he whispered around the lump in his throat.
‘Well, do not expect to hear it from me, either. Not today.’
Thranduil descended the steps from his throne and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder as Legolas looked up at him with disbelief.
‘Come, ion-nin. Walk with me towards the healer halls, at least as far as your rooms. I find it strange to be within doors once more, do not you?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Legolas said. ‘I’m going to get some things together and eat my noon meal outdoors today with Govon.’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea…’
They walked off quietly, gently together, talking easily, and Thranduil realised it was not important, nothing was important except this, that his son was happy and they were home.
179. Healers' Hall
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which the king, and Thiriston, both visit the healers...
Thranduil parted from his youngest son near the junction with his quarters and continued on alone to the healers’ hall where the healer on duty dropped a very reverential curtsey to him.
‘Healer Gyril, is it not?’
‘Yes, my king,’ she said, standing once more. ‘Healer Nestoril was hoping you would come. Would your majesty care to follow me to her study?’
‘Lead on.’
Nestoril was working at her desk. She was clad in her blue healer’s robes and head-rail, and Thranduil could not but smile at the change in her appearance. She looked up at Gyril’s announcement and rose swiftly to come out and curtsey to the king.
‘Good morning, sire. Will you sit? Gyril, please arrange for tea.’ |
c233c21b0bc44c1daca23aa7cec6bed6 | ['b143d0436fb14155902a56c05a1ea621'] |
Roost
**Author's Note:**
> its not the best, made it earlier
Dark Pit, known more as "Pittoo" to his adversary, paced down the halls of Skyworld. Palutena had allowed him to stay there, just as long as he had assisted Pit in his endeavors. He begrudgingly accepted, needing a place to stay, anyways. Just now he was heading to the mess hall, where the best food in the entire realm lies. He WAS human after all, he needed to eat. He pushed open the door, and was instantly hit with a wave of sweet scents. He quickly sniffed the air. Sausages.
"Neat." He muttered.
He looks into the kitchen, staring at the workers bustling around to put more food into the already-full trays. I might as well help clean up the mess they're making. He picks up a plate, piling a mess of sausages and hash browns onto the silver disc. He turns around, heading to the-
Hiya, Pal!
Pittoo let out a low groan, looking at his lighter counterpart. It was Pit. He hated everything about him. His scruffy topaz-colored hair, his sky-blue eyes that you could stare into forever, his slightly puckered lips that are so kissable- Ahem. Yep. He hated everything about him. "Hey there, flightless."
"Hey, you can hardly fly either!" Pit lets out a small huff. "It's like you hate me, or something!"
How long did it take you to figure that out, Kid Icarus? But as much as he despised him, he is his reason for not being homeless, so he needed to be nice. He took a long breath. "I'm just grumpy because I didn't get my coffee..?"
"Oh, is that all?" Pit's frown turns into a wide grin. "I'll go get you some, I have my own special blend!" He pats Pittoo's back, and parades off to get Pittoo some coffee - Did Pittoo mention that he despises coffee? It hurts his taste buds. He huffs, and quickly makes his escape from the kitchen, sneaking back to his room.
Finally Alone, Pittoo thought. I can actually eat. He dug his fork into one of the sausages, biting into it. It was a fairly thick sausage. Pittoo wonders if the pig they made this out of was bulkier than usual. He grazes his tongue against the tip of the pork sausage, slowly wrapping his lips against it. He begins to fellate the sausage, stuffing it all into his mouth, imagining it was-
"I found you!" Pit cracks open the door, throwing it open immediately after. He held two cups of coffee, a wide grin on his face- Okay what. "...Pittoo?"
Pittoo looked over to the door, pulling the sausage out of his mouth. "...hey."
Pit bursts into laughter. "Jeez, man, what kinda magic trick is that? I can't believe you can fit a whole sausage in that tiny mouth of yours!" He pokes Pittoo's cheek, pinching it lightly with the nubs of his knuckles. "Ah, cool! Here, I got you some coffee."
Pittoo holds back a groan of embarrassment, and takes his coffee. "Thanks." He mutters, before taking a sip. It was alright, nothing special. He takes another sip, eating the sausage he was previously fellating afterwards. "It's an okay blend." He mutters again, Pit's smile turning into a demented grin.
"You like it?" He asks with enthusiasm. "I made it out of-"
Pittoo presses a finger to his face. "Don't tell me the details." He slowly lets his finger drop down, grazing against his lips for a moment. They were so soft.. He gulps, looking at Pit. His lips were still being pressed against by his index finger. He opens his mouth to speak, and your finger falls in. You swallow again. "Er, Pit?"
Pit's eyes narrow, and he clamps his mouth shut, pressing his lips together, around Pittoo's finger. He slowly pushes forward, the finger sliding further into his mouth. Pit, what are you- He presses his thumb to Pittoo's lower lip, and pulls down, parting his lips. You open your mouth, and let his finger drop. "Pittoo~" He pushes forward, and kisses Pittoo on his lips, blocking off any reply, until he felt pressure growing in his pants, then he parted it. "Pittoo."
Pittoo gulped, reaching up to touch his own lips, his tanned skin getting a slight twist of pink. What just happened? He was kissed. He wanted it again. "Pit."
"Pittoo~" The light moaned into his ear, grazing his hand against Pittoo's chest, tugging lightly at his drapery.
"P-Pit.." Dark Pit moans back, slipping his hand under Pit's toga.
"P-Pittoo!~" Pit gasped in pleasure, fumbling with Dark Pit's buckle, before the drapery fell off, leaving him in his shirt and his boxers. Then, Pittoo tugged at Pit's toga, letting the buckle snap off, leaving them both prone.
"Pit!" Pittoo clutched Pit's butt, rubbing it with his palm.
"P-Pittoo.." Pit paused, speaking in a low voice. "I want you."
Pittoo gulps. "I want you too." He replied, not thinking, before taking his head into his hands, and pulling him forward in a tender kiss. The pressure in their boxers pressed against each other, Pittoo letting out a low moan.
"I don't think you understand, Pittoo." Pit speaks slowly, looking him in the eye. "I want to fuck you, and I want you to fuck me." That lewd language aroused Pittoo, leaving him a dark shade of red, blending with Pit's lighter pink when they kissed again, rubbing against each other.
"I understand, and I want to..ahem..I want to fuck you, too." It felt weird to say something so crude around Pit, because up until now he thought Pit was a precious cinnamon roll. He still thinks that, of course, he's now just a little wary of the icing. | 5393fb90acd0426d9e4fb1416b6dab12 | ['b143d0436fb14155902a56c05a1ea621'] | Pit lifts himself up, and reaches his hand down to grope himself, pushing himself to full erection. "Let's get to it, then." He slips off his boxers, revealing his sizable pecker. It wouldn't compare to most cocks on earth, but of course: Pittoo had no frame of reference. Pit began to stroke the shaft, his face a dark red. "Y-You like that?" Pit jerked, trying to dirty talk.
Pittoo let out a small laugh. "Yeah, sure." He reaches up, replacing Pit's hand with his. He pulled lightly at the tip, stroking him hungrily. "Come here." He leans up, while Pit leaned down, and takes the tip of the length into his mouth. He began to bob his head, taking more of his cock with every suck.
"A-Ah.." Pit let out a small, staggered groan, pressing his hand onto his counterpart's head. "P-Pittoo, please..More.." He moans, the head of his length twitching in Dark Pit's mouth.
Pittoo was happy to oblige. He pushes his head further down, taking the miniscule cock fully into his mouth. He fondled his balls with his large hand, moaning to vibrate his member in his throat. He pulled it out, continuing to tug on the shaft, and stares at him. "You're just adorable." He smirks, and resumes blowing him.
"P-Pittoo, let me cum in your mouth.." Pit groans, and Pittoo clamps his lips down on his pecker, causing an aroused groan to arise from Pit's throat, as he shot his cum into Pittoo's mouth. "A-Aah.." He heaved.
Pittoo pulls away from his pecker, a bit of cum dribbling from his lips. "Minuteman." He teases, swallowing, and licking up the rest. "I wish you would've lasted longer."
Pit, still heaving, cleared his throat. "Y..you're still hard." He says, looking down at Pittoo's bulge. "D..Do you wanna fuck me?"
Dark Pit's cheeks turned a bright pink, and his eyebrows lowered. "Damn right I do!" He turns Pit around, and spread his ass, to spy his tight pucker. "Fuck, you look great." He leans forward, licking the hole, and penetrating him with his tongue. Pit shivers, and falls forward onto the bed, leaving Dark Pit to do what he wants. He gets onto his knees, raising his head - and pulling down his boxers. "Can't wait."
Pit shivers, and stuffs his face into the pillow, as Pittoo pulled out his sizable cock: a good 5 inches more than Pit's puny prick, leaving him at 9 inches. "Be Gentle." He mutters, hardly finding Dark Pit's ears as a faint whisper. "I've never done this before."
"I'll try." Pittoo presses the head of his member to his tight asshole, and pushes forward, easing his cock into him. The tight confines of Pit's ass was too much for him, he felt like he was going to cum almost immediately. He held onto Pit's side, thrusting into him. "Y-You're too fucking tight, ease up."
Pit groans, and raises his head out of the pillow. "Alright, alright. Yeah." He groans, as Pittoo is able to push forward, slowly pulling back, and pushing further in. "Y-You're too big, it hurts.."
"Just calm down, it'll feel good in a second." He begins to thrust into Pit's tight hole, starting with an inch a thrust, but soon amounts to pounding his pucker, going balls deep with each thrust.
"F-Fuck! Harder!" Pit finally squeaked, and Pittoo thrusts into his confines, pushing him further into the bed. "I love your cock!"
Pittoo clutches Pit's sides, slowing a bit, spacing out his thrusts. "I'm gonna cum..Can I do it inside?" His thick length begins to throb, and leak precum.
Pit was having a good time. "Yes! Yes, please, cum inside me!" He clutches the sheets, as Pittoo's cock spasms, and shoots thick ropes of cum into Pit's thick ass. "Yess~" He moans, before Pittoo pulls out, finishing off onto his back.
"I needed that, Pit. Thanks, I guess." Pittoo flops onto Pit's back, groaning. "You have a nice ass." He gave Pit's ass a tender squeeze, filling his hand with the plush rump.
"I..I love you, Pittoo." Pit mutters, another orgasm filling his body as he finishes rubbing on Pittoo, and he groans, cumming on the sheets.
"I love you too, Pit." He huffs, kissing Pit's neck.
…"Hey, you're hard again!"
"Look at that, ready for another go?"
"Am I ever not?" |
f8e14d70d25e440b8fe01daa9c443f39 | ['b15c7c4a891644558f19e375d175501e'] | Genji spares no more time lamenting his error. He sprints and jumps over the bed she just bounced off of, blade poised and ready to strike.
“Cease, or die--!”
With lightning quick fingers, she grabs a pair of scissors lying on the nightstand to her right -- they’ll have to do until she can get that blade from Genji, or some other, more efficient weapon -- before turning to the left and rolling on her shoulder just out of harm's way. Using the impetus from the roll, she springs to her feet and turns to him as he lands in the spot she occupied only a moment before. Her expression is cold, and her jaw is set.
“It is you who should cease, if you value your friends’ lives,” Widowmaker leers. A challenge.
Genji rises to it with a ringing battle cry and lightning quick lunge and slash of his blade at her body.
Widowmaker ducks beneath the lethal arc of steel into a half crouch and seamlessly proceeds to lunge at his leading leg. She grabs it and yanks it towards her, then springs up and rams her upper body to his, sending him falling backwards. Another successful takedown.
He grabs for the railing with his right hand as he falls, transferring his sword to his left. He finds purchase and manages not to fall completely to the floor, but she refuses to let him recover. Before he can move to get to his feet, however, the top of her knee connects with the underside of his chin with a sharp _thud_ , whipping his head up and back. Giving him no reprieve, she drives the scissors -- closed, pointed end first -- into the underside of his left wrist. Genji lets out a shape cry of pain as his artificial tendons release, letting the sword slip from his grip.
“Adieu.” Widowmaker snatches the blade with her left hand and sprints for the doors, leaving the scissors lodged in Genji’s lower arm.
She glances back over her shoulder, making sure he hasn’t gotten to his feet just yet. She is relieved to see that he is only just now recovering from the blow to his head. _Good_. With the others still scrambling to get up, she’ll be out of the med bay without further hassle.
It is only as she turns her gaze forward once more that Widowmaker sees a canister flying through the air toward her.
Bright light erupts in front of her face, blinding her -- a flash bang.
She stumbles backwards, disoriented, unbalanced. A moment later six, orb like projectiles barrel into torso, striking her solar plexus agonizing force. Her body is sent flying backwards, tumbling through the air briefly before bouncing off the side rail of one of the beds farther away. She is slams into the tiled floor in a surprised, frustrated heap.
_No…_
Her lungs gasps for air that does not come. Her head reels. Pain blossoms and spreads from her stomach, her chest, her back, her limbs.
“It seems we will need more anesthetics if we wish to proceed,” Zenyatta says calmly, floating -- not walking, she realizes, once her vision returns -- towards her, legs crossed neatly one over the other.
Widowmaker scrambles to get to her feet, but the feeling of suffocating makes it difficult for her to push herself up, to steady herself. Genji reaches her by the time she gets to a knee. He grabs the back her head and slams her face against the floor. A sickening crack and a sharp, throbbing sensation from her nose ensues. She strains against his hand as crimson blood drips from her nose, warm and metallic. Desperately, she tries trying shake his hand off of her by turning her head to the side and lifting her back; a knee digs fiercely into her back in response and anchors her torso to the floor.
Widowmaker thrashes at Genji’s touch -- how _dare_ he touch her -- furious, foiled.
“That is enough, Genji. We need only restrain her, not harm her into submission,” Zenyatta intones quietly. His cold, metal hand comes to a rest on her back with a ghost of a touch as Mercy, Lúcio, and McCree rush over to her location. “Miss Lacroix, please, do not make this harder on yourself. We do not wish to hurt--”
“Va te faire enculer,” Widowmaker spits. What audacity, for him to think she will just _let_ them tamper with and violate her mind and body with such a half-assed reassurance. She strains against her oppressor with renewed vigor, bucking and tossing wildly -- but Genji holds fast.
“You see what she is capable of, master, and you still insist that we should help her?” Genji argues.
“Genji’s got a mighty fine point. What a lil’ viper we got on our hands,” McCree drawls darkly. Peacekeeper glints in his hand, which raises to point the barrel at her head. “You’d best not do that again, darlin’. Wouldn't want no mess on Angela’s clean floors, now would we--?”
“ _Jesse_ ,” Mercy utters, her voice a frigid warning. “Put that down.”
McCree, reluctant to lift his threat, gives her a sharp look.
“She nearly broke your goddamn arm, Angela. We best keep the steel to her temple so she doesn’t get riled up again.”
“We will be shooting no one.” Mercy shoots him a glare in her prim, delicate manner, before moving her gaze to the group at large. “Keep her down, Genji, and try not to hurt her too much. McCree, Zenyatta -- restrain her legs as well. I don’t have any general anesthesia here, but I have twilight sedatives I can inject into her legs. They’ll have to do for now. Lúcio, if you could play something that might calm her down, that would be most helpful. I have a feeling we’ll need something supplementary to the sedatives to get her to sit through all the scans and lab work.” | 2bc9be33be944b8f9235faef47ef2bf6 | ['b15c7c4a891644558f19e375d175501e'] |
1. T7A4R:\WIDOWMAKER>SYSTEM_CHECK\FILE_HEALTH
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys! I got this idea from one of my more coherent dreams, boiling down to one question: what if other people besides Ana found out who Widowmaker truly was, and tried to restore her to her former self?
>
> I have no idea how long this will be, but I will try my best to update on a once a week to a once a month basis. (Since it's the end of the summer and college will be punching me in the face very soon and all.) If you happen to notice any typos I've missed (I'm notoriously dyslexic) or errors in any languages other than English, by all means, correct me! I appreciate it a lot. I'll post progress or lack thereof updates to my tumblr (wowie-meowie.tumblr.com).
>
> I hope you enjoy it!
Heels click soundlessly against the sun-baked rooftop in slow, calculated strides. Scorching heat makes the air quiver as little as 20 meters away, showing up as undulations of red through her many-eyed visor. Widowmaker gives her surroundings a sweep with her eyes watching, assessing, analyzing. She nods to herself in reassurance. The sniper’s cradle she’s chosen is the optimal spot to eliminate targets from.
Perhaps only a mile or so out looms the Temple of Anubis; she almost wishes it were later in the day so that its shadow would stretch impossibly long over the arid landscape and shade her from the sweltering heat. Unauthorized, Widowmaker’s brain takes the sight of the large pyramid connects it with an image of the late Ana Amari, projected across her mind’s eye. That’s right, she recalls; this was her homeland, in life. (In death: an abandoned building in another country, courtesy of the Talon agent herself.) Her nose crinkles in a vague expression of disgust. She does not understand how anyone could defend such a miserably barren place with the fervor her ex-rival sniper had. Then again, there was very little she understood about any action dictated by any emotion at all -- _Enough,_ she chides herself. Dwelling on such random thoughts will not complete the task at hand.
Her sights easily pluck the dark forms of her quarries out from against the sandstone buildings near their ally’s compound below, crosshairs aligning with the first despite the glare of the Egyptian sun in her scope. A little sun in her eyes is nothing to her; she barely even squints in response to it. Lifting the Widow’s Kiss to her shoulder, she pulls dry air into her lungs with pursed lips -- _un, deux, trois_ \-- and exhales in the same fashion -- _quatre, cinq, six_ \-- until her lungs are devoid of oxygen. She holds her breath.
_Bang._
The shot punctures the head of the first innocent’s head with a satisfying thunk. He drops like a puppet cut from its strings. The person walking past him jumps with startled yelp -- right into her cross-hairs. Her finger instinctively pulls the trigger, and the other man falls beside his companion, lifeless on the empty street leading towards Hakim’s compound.
_A thing of beauty._ The sniper cannot stop the grin from spreading on her cold lips as she gazes at the sand canvas she has painted death upon.
The silver shine of a bullet mixed with the dull sanguine from the body was a sight that most would freeze in dread at. But not her. No, the mixing of those two colors never makes her feel more _alive._ As much as she loathes the way the sweat pools on at her hairline and makes her skin stick to her suit, baking beneath Egypt’s sweltering sun is worth it for that brief high. Anything is.
Widowmaker’s vision shifts from bright red to normal as her visor pulls away from her empty hazel eyes. She lowers her gun from her shoulder, the small high she gets from each kill fading rapidly, as the black-clad and owl masked man beside her scoffs at her masterpiece.
“Where were those shots in Numbani?”
Her expression hints at amusement. “I could ask the same of you, Faucheuse _._ How can a man kill twelve civilians and lay them out like a bread crumbs for the crows, yet still manage to be bested by an ape and a roadrunner?”
The growl elicited from Reaper -- a laughable attempt at intimidating her -- does nothing to erode her self-satisfied smile.
“I believe the ‘roadrunner’ bested you, Lacroix, not me,” the former Blackwatch leader sneers, rising to his feet. How cute of him, still trying to rile her up, as if it were even possible. Her countenance does not change, to his evident chagrin. Spouting her legal surname seems to have no effect.
A pair of ocean blue eyes flashes across her mind. Her vision zooms out. A handsome man with a toothy grin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners as he does so. In his large hands are a pair of fairer ones -- her own. The tune of an upbeat, French pop song plays in her ears as her vision spins. He’s twirling her, she recalls, they are dancing…
There’s a ringing in her head, and her mind goes blank again, ghostly images gone.
‘Seems,’ of course, is the key word here.
“At least she only bested me once. Il est la deuxième fois avec le grand singe, n’est-ce pas? _"_ she chimes as goes from crouch to stand, resting the top of her rifle’s barrel on her shoulder as she searches for another position to back-up Reaper from.
The man tilts his head away from her, cracking his neck with a loud pop as he walks towards the ledge. “For Talon’s finest, you do a lot more talking than shooting, puta _._ Guess some things don’t change.”
(While she was never as much of a chatterbox as Lena or Reinhardt was, she was known for her ability to just keep talking as she saw fit, way back when. |
e5865b2d693942789a0b01f86e8974f2 | ['b1681dc1671a4ed6bf624f3699ef1256'] |
The Helper
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
**The Helper**
Peeta Mellark stood in The Twelve’s library, staring at the empty red velvet chair in the town’s small scale version of a Christmas Village, looking for all the world like he was about to burst into tears. His uncle, Haymitch Abernathy stood behind him, looking like he had no idea what to do if his nephew were to burst into tears.
“It’s - it’s alright, Peeta,” he said, giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “You can leave school a little early tomorrow, and we’ll drive down to Portland and go to the mall there.”
Peeta looked up at him uncertain, his lower lip pushed out in a rather endearing pout. “But tomorrow is the holiday party at school. You said you’d help me make cookies tonight.”
“Right…” Haymitch frowned. He’d known that, but things had been a bit busy the last couple of days with it being so close to Christmas and the end of the year. It was the first Christmas he celebrated since he was sixteen and it was because of his nephew. The child's family had died in a fire and he was the only superstite. They have been living together for almost a year.
He had always hated Chistmas, even when he was a child. But here he was, in a place where his nephew should have met Santa Claus, even if he was nowhere.
Haymitch was certain though, that he had read the times for the Christmas Village in the paper correctly. “Santa” would be there from ten to seven, and it was just now five o’clock.
But there was no Santa, just an empty chair.
“Oh!” came a voice from the back of the library. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone came in.”
The man’s face lit up as Effie Trinket came around the shelves. “ _Trinket_ ,” he started, then he stopped and his mouth dropped open when he saw what she was wearing.
The green skirt was a bit shorter than her usual wardrobe, and it puffed out around her legs from the crinoline that was beneath it. Her top was a simple green button down with some red and white embellishments, but what really made her ensemble were the candy cane striped stockings and the sparkly red heels. She was the most adorable Santa’s elf he’d ever seen, and he was quite possibly even more smitten with her. And that was saying something given that he’d been besotted with her from the first day they met and had been harboring a growing crush every day since.
"Finally, you have learned my name. But you should add 'Miss' before my surname." She said amused.
“Uh, I’m - I mean we were -” He snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together, struggling for words as a slow smile spread over her face.
“Where’s Santa?” the child asked. Effie’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, dear. He had to, uh, go - back to his workshop.”
Peeta shuffled his feet and pushed his hands down in his coat pockets. “Oh. Why?”
She knelt down in front of him and gave him a small smile. “Well, there was a problem with some of the toys and he had to make sure it was all fixed in time for Christmas.”
Her eyes darted up to Haymitch’s face, and her smile broadening when she met his stormy grey eyes. “It was very last minute, I’m very sorry. I meant to put up a sign, but I got distracted reshelving some books.”
Haymitch shook his head. “That’s quite alright, _Sweetheart_.”
The woman glared at him, probably because of his lack of manners.
When he had met her the first time he had noticed that she loved to behave like a proper lady. And he had found entertaining to annoy her, so he used pet names like Sweetheart or Princess.
"He is a very busy man." She added.
The Santa duties were usually covered by a combination of Mr. Heavensbee from the drugstore and Mr. Odair who taught biology at the high school. Something must have happened to one or both of them for there to be no one to cover.
“Will he be back tomorrow?” Peeta asked.
Effie bit her lip and shot another look at Haymitch. “I’m sorry, but Santa’s schedule is so busy he won’t be able to come back tomorrow.”
The child looked almost distraught. “But Mitchy - how - how will I tell Santa what I need for _Christmas_?”
The man braced himself for a difficult evening of dealing with an extremely disappointed six year old. “Well, uh, we - we can go this weekend...” No, there was the Everthorne’s party this weekend in the woods. “Or, um…”
“Hey, darling,” Effie said, her voice just above a whisper so that Haymitch could hear what she was saying.
He flashed her a smile when she glanced up at him, grateful that she’d sensed his distress.
Peeta immediate turned his attention to her, and she leaned in with a sly smile. “You know, I’m Santa’s _Official_ Helper in Twelve. If you tell me what you want for Christmas, I can tell Santa.”
Peeta titled his head to the side. “How?”
“I’ll text him.” the woman grinned. She didn’t care if it made sense or not, if it made the child happy and save his uncle some grief, it was worth it.
The boy’s eyes went wide. “You have Santa’s phone number?!”
Even though it was harmless white lie told for the benefit of a child, she still felt quite important.
“All Santa’s helpers do.”
“Wow…” His voice was hushed and he looked up at Effie in awe.
Then he pulled a face. “Do I have to sit on your lap?” It was all she could do not to laugh, and when she looked at his uncle again, she could see he was having the same problem. | 90b2549d23884c9f83e72927a268c3cc | ['b1681dc1671a4ed6bf624f3699ef1256'] |
The heart wants what it wants
He nervously walked through the terminal of some godforsaken minuscule airport in Chicago, watching the snow come down outside the windows. He had had hours on the airplane, as well as a ridiculously long layover in Riverdale, to think things through. He still had no idea what to say, or how she was going to react. She would be waiting in the baggage claim area expecting her best friend, Hermione Gomez.
When Alice had accepted a job halfway across the country he had been devastated. She had explained that this was the next step in her career, that she couldn't let this opportunity slip away. What about him? Wasn't life with him the next step? Hell. That's what he had always thought. But maybe he hadn’t been that clear.
Their relationship had always been more about sex than love, but he had always wanted more and when he had started to understand how deep his feelings for her were, he had started to drift away from her, going out with other girls (even if he had never done anything with them. He had tried once, but that dark hair girl was nothing like his Alice).
By the time she had accepted the job, it was too late to confess his repressing feelings. It was a done deal; she had resigned from her job in Riverdale and subjected him to helping pack up her apartment. They had both known long distance relationships sucked – if what they had had was a relationship- so they had decided not to try to force things. They had also agreed not to talk to each other for at least a month after she left, so they could have been free to date whoever they wanted, but truthfully they didn't want to make it any harder on themselves. It was entirely Alice’s idea; but he knew that a month wouldn't change the way he felt about her.
When Alice had left, Fred had watched his best friend retreat into himself and almost disappear. Fp hadn’t cried like a northsider schoolboy, he hadn’t talked about it, he had completely shut down and Fred had been pissed – at both of them. About a week ago he had showed up at Fp’s apartment with a plane ticket and a very determined Hermione Gomez at his side.
"I told her that I was coming for Christmas because I needed a place to stay after my engagement with Hiram broke off, but I'm _not_ going, Jones. _You are_ ," she had said firmly.
"You are acting like a girl and it's just pissing me off." Fred had added.
Over a bottle of beer, well- several, they had listened as he had told them how much he had missed Alice; that letting her go had been the single most painful thing he had ever experienced and that he had truly cared about her, that it wasn’t just a distraction to his life, but that she was very important.
When he had finally stopped talking, Hermione had framed his face with her dainty little hands and said, "Forsythe Pendleton Jones II, you need to pull it together and go out there and tell her everything you just told us."
In the meantime, Fred had looked at them with jealousy and when Fp eyes had caught his, he had given him the “don’t mess with my girl” look. Fp and Fred had looked at each other and then they had laugh and before he had left Fp’s house he had given him a pat on the back while whispering “Go and get back the girl, buddie”.
When they had left, Fp had realized that they had never said a word about how Alice was fairing without him nor how she was doing. They had simply left the tickets on the table and said him “good luck” before they had gone back to their home.
So here he was, on Christmas Eve, having not received more than few random text messages from Alice in four months. He had no idea whether or not she wanted to see him. _Fuck_. This was a monumentally bad decision.
Probably she would scream at him or laugh at him for how ridiculous he was. Maybe she didn’t feel the same as him. Maybe she hadn’t missed him like he had missed her, maybe she hadn’t felt a hole in her heart like he had had during those four months, like he had been without oxygen for all that time.
He came around the corner and saw her, head bent, chestnut hair shining in the fluorescent light, focusing on her phone. She was so distracted by it that he was directly in front of her before she looked up.
Their eyes met and his breath caught. He had expected to see her ocean eyes sparkling, anticipating a fun weekend with Hermione, but they were dull and vacant. She looked horrible, like she hadn't slept in, well, four months. Not unlike himself really.
One corner of her mouth lifted in to a smirk and she reached forward to brush a lock of hair off his forehead.
The instant she touched him he felt her flinch like she had been shocked.
Her eyes widened, " _Fuck_ ," she said, blinking. "Shit, I'm not dreaming. You're _really_ here?"
He nodded as they stepped into each other's arms. Her hands went into his hair and his ran over her back as Fp breathed in her unique scent. She pulled away and leaned her forehead against his, grinning and shaking her head.
“I- I thought.. I thought you had moved on, that you had started a relationship with _that_ brunette vixen. I hated you for not stopping me. I wanted you to ask me to stay in Riverdale. _I hated you so much_ ”. |
8928db91539c434a8391bd585c63bc57 | ['b1755c27f8f0432b9202ae8e0c705bb3'] | _ Barry let out a soft chuckle, “I ran west because I knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. So naturally, I thought if I ran towards where it ended the day, I would catch it. But timezones change. When it’s night here, it’s day somewhere else. I didn’t pay it any attention to that and I just kept running. Eventually I realized the sun wasn’t getting any closer even though my speed was getting faster. I couldn’t run to the sun. It’s not possible.” _
_ Wally frowned, “Why?” _
_ Barry laughed, “Gravity.” _
_ “What?” _
_ Barry nodded, “Gravity. I couldn’t run to the sun because gravity held me to the earth, so no matter where I ran, I could never get there because the laws of nature kept me from doing it. I may be the fastest man alive, but gravity kept me firmly on Planet Earth.” _
_ “Okay,” Wally drawled, his brow crinkled in thought. He looked at his uncle, “That’s a nice story, I guess...” _
_ Barry laughed, “What I’m trying to say is: don’t get ahead of yourself. There are things in the universe that keep everything from spiraling into chaos. I couldn’t just run off into space and catch the sun because gravity was a greater law than my powers. There’s a balance.” _
_ Wally frowned, he looked at his yellow boots, the surface of them worn from running. _
_ “And,” Barry put his hand on Wally’s shoulder, eyes warm and sincere, “just like the sun, I’m always going to be there for you. Your power will never go away. You may stop being Kid Flash, but you don’t ever stop being a speedster. Remember that.” _
_ Wally nodded, looking back out into the field. He sighed. _
_ Barry clapped him on the shoulder, “Want to make one last lap before Iris yells at us for missing dinner?” _
_ Wally laughed, “Yeah.” _
_ They sped off into the sunset, the ground solid beneath their feet. _
…
Wally opened his eyes and blinked. It was dark. He took a deep breath and let it out, the sound seeming loud in the quiet space. He could hear the soft beep from the heart monitor and the hushed whirr of air leaving a vent, but he was alone.
Wally groaned and rolled onto his back, eyes staring at the ceiling tiles. He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. It had been the last time he and his uncle had run together, just the two of them. He hadn’t known that, if he had, he would’ve asked for more than one lap.
Wally lifted his hand in front of him and focused, his brow furrowed in concentration. Nothing changed. His hand remained still.
He huffed and dropped the hand back to his side. It was quiet again.
Except the beeping.
The beeping was annoying.
Growling, Wally pushed up from the bed and adjusted it so he could sit up. He looked over at the clock on the wall and frowned. He wasn’t sure if it was four in the morning, or four in the afternoon and looking around the room was no help. Regardless, he’d been in bed too long. He tossed the covers back and slid his feet off the bed. He stood up–
The silence was replaced with an obnoxious alarm, a high-pitched alternating tone that made him want to claw his ear drums out. He looked around for the source, eyes landing by his feet and finding a blue mat on the floor by his bed.
The door to his room opened, Kate bursting into the room, one hand on her stethoscope and the other reaching for her pager. She looked Wally over, realized he was standing, unharmed, and relaxed. Her worried expression was quickly replaced with irritation. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at the speedster.
“What are you doing out of bed?” She pushed him back onto the bed and grabbed the mat, hitting a switch to shut off the noise.
Wally glared at her, pointing at the offensive mat that she put back on the floor next to his bed, “You booby trapped my bed?”
Kate rolled her eyes, “Well, can you blame me?”
“Yes!” Wally exclaimed.
“Clearly I was right. You got out of bed, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but–”
Kate shook her head, “No buts, you’re still recovering and you can’t be up waltzing around like it’s no big deal.”
Wally growled, eyes narrowed as the nurse fussed around and checked his vitals. He sat in a pout the entire time.
“I just wanted to know where everyone went.”
Kate looked at him, her eyes softening a little. He sounded lonely.
“The doctor and Batman are still in the lab going over the second sample of blood we drew before you went to sleep.”
Wally sighed, holding out his arm for her to check his blood pressure. “How long was I asleep?”
Kate looked at the clock, then back at the blood pressure gauge. “Sixteen hours.”
Wally blanched, “What?!”
Kate looked at him, “You were asleep for sixteen hours.”
Wally struggled out of her grip and swung his legs over the side of the bed, “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Wait,” Kate said, her voice growing concerned, “–you can’t just leave.”
Wally growled again, “Why not?”
Kate blinked at him, “You know you sound like Batman when you growl like that?”
Wally growled a third time, “I don’t care. I want to get out of here.”
Wally stood from the bed, careful to avoid the perilous blue mat and marched to the door. He took his IV out of his hand and winced at the pain. He ignored the fact that the needle mark was bleeding longer than usual and just held onto it. He rushed out the door, Kate close behind him.
“Flash–” | a355f45bfbac4a6ba15b6bbe99c2e8c9 | ['b1755c27f8f0432b9202ae8e0c705bb3'] | Richards nodded making a note in the chart, “Sounds like we need to increase your calorie cocktail by just a touch. You’re still operating on a highly effective, and fast metabolism. Just not at the rate it was before.”
Bruce frowned, arms crossed under his cape. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s going to need to take in a similar number of calories to a professional athlete, though he isn’t exercising like one.” He held up a hand when Batman’s expression darkened, “He won’t waste away, but we’ll need to start giving him solid food soon and sustaining it with calories while his body recovers from all the trauma. He was able to heal a lot of injuries with his metabolism prior to the excursion with Luthor, but now his body is operating at a much slower rate. For whatever reason, your body has maintained some of the side effects of the powers you had, like a much faster metabolism, without the speed. So I’d like to run a few, simple tests to check for any other lingering traits or abilities.”
Wally frowned, looking at his hands, eyes starting to fill with panic. Bruce was moving to comfort him when Nurse Kate’s voice stopped him.
“If you want more time to sit, we can come back,” Kate drawled, her eyes telling everyone in the room she knew exactly how Flash would react to that statement.
Wally pushed up on the bed, his hair tousled above the red domino mask. He shook his head, “No more sitting. I want to figure this out.” He glared up at Kate who smiled at him. “Let’s do this.”
Richards and Kate nodded, helping him stand from the bed. He shook his head when they offered him help to stay standing. He wobbled a moment and stood tall. Bruce was proud of him. “Tell me what to do, doc.”
“Okay, we’re just going to start small.” Richards said, voice calm and collected, “I want you to move your arms, at average human speed and then _ slowly _ ,” He emphasized, giving Wally a look that told him he needed to comply, “I want you to speed up your movements and try to vibrate them. Just from the elbows down.”
Wally nodded and stood, feet braced shoulder width apart, the heart monitor picked up a bit as he moved his hands slowly and then slowly sped them up, they were moving, fast, but nowhere near the speed he used to be able to reach.
It was hard to watch.
Bruce’s eyes stayed on Wally the entire time, he’d moved back to give Wally room. He watched Wally’s face scrunch in concentration, and his brow bead with sweat as he made his arms go a little faster. Bruce looked up when the heart monitor spiked.
“Okay, Flash. You can stop.” Richards said from the other side of the room, hands on either side of paper coming out the EKG machine and making notes where he wanted to.
Wally dropped his hands at his sides, eyes glued to the ground. His chest was heaving from the effort he put into that amount of speed. Bruce wanted to reach out and hold him close, but he would have to wait.
Wally didn’t say anything, instead he concentrated on trying to even his haggard breathing and maintain his composure. A nurse came in with a packet of papers and handed them to the doctor, leaving as quickly as she came in. Richards glanced at them, but set down the papers for the time being.
“Flash.” Richards said sharply, Wally’s head lifting in time for him to see a red rubber ball flying at his face. He snapped his hand up and caught it without a problem.
“What was that?” Wally garbled, dropping the ball on the floor and looking at the doctor like he was crazy.
Richards smiled and made another note, “Reflexes.”
Wally frowned and stumbled on his feet a bit. Everyone moved to steady him, but he waved them off.
Bruce kept glancing at the papers Richards had set aside. He knew they were Wally’s blood results and he wanted to know what they said.
The door to the room opened, Nightwing popping his head in. He looked at his best friend, “You doin’ okay in here Flash?”
Wally took another couple steadying breaths and nodded, Dick looked at Bruce and motioned for him to follow.
“Excuse me.” The Dark Knight walked out the door, giving Wally a look that said he’d be back.
“Alright, let’s do a few more things and then we’ll be done.” Bruce heard Wally groan as the door shut behind him, he couldn’t help the smirk that brushed his lips at the sound.
Dick heard it too and laughed, “Difficult patient?”
“Patience isn’t a virtue Wally has ever had.” Bruce said quietly, he looked at his protege expectantly.
“Luthor is safely behind bars in Stryker’s Island Penitentiary. The medical report our team put together before shipping him off gave him a clean bill of health. Nothing but a tiny round scar for his troubles.”
Bruce nodded, “What about the research facility and the warehouse?”
“Gotham PD and Animal Control enlisted the help of some wildlife conservationists in the area and they were able to secure the hyenas and put them on a large amount of land the Police and Animal Control use to put the larger animals they confiscate. The warehouse was cleaned out by a League skeleton crew and now sits empty of all contents. The research facility is being cleaned as well. We weren’t able to keep the government out completely, the Cadmus cast-offs lept at the chance to seize as much as they could as evidence against Luthor and his crimes,” Dick smirked and took out a flash drive and handed it to Bruce, “We were able to get all the data and wipe the mainframes.” |
863a9fa27c574955af20d7476ccc0201 | ['b17cc3e1342640988534c2fbe1738b86'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hello!
>
> Here's the first chapter of this story I've got in mind, let me know what you think :) hope you enjoy it!
>
> *I own nothing about these two, obviously. I just love them to death, haha.
It was definite, there was no other option: he had lo leave. It had all slowly become so dull in the past two years – three, maybe four? - He had started feeling the inevitable heaviness of age creeping in and life leaving him behind with each passing day, and he was sure he shouldn’t feel like that at his 30 years of age. He was supposed to feel young, to feel alive. That’s why he needed to leave his office job, his rented flat, all those empty dates as soon as possible. He was sure the only person he’d miss would be his closest friend, January, but their friendship would last all their lives even if he went away for a thousand years, so he wasn’t worrying about that.
Michael had saved a lot of money since, to be honest, he did have a good job, but was certainly unhappy with it since what he really wanted to do was photography, so he decided it was time to do something about it and use what he had saved to save himself and re-arrange his life; he felt a rush of panic whenever he thought about growing old with his actual job, not noticing the years passing by and seeing his dream as a far away fantasy that never came true, so he thought about a place. He usually thought and fantasized about places, but in his heart he had always loved the idea of India; he loved the bright colors, the relationship Indians kept with nature and their spiritual philosophies. He was also very physical and athletic, and had been interested in learning yoga for a few years too, but had never attended more than a couple classes in the gym, and he was sure they had nothing to do with the actual thing.
In the middle of a May night, he was unable to sleep as he thought what he needed in that moment, what he imagined would be a perfect life for him; he trembled lightly as the decisions were being made in his mind, and he smiled for himself in excitement, wanting it to be the morning already so he could go to the office and quit, then come back home and buy a flight to that magic, mystical place, and leave as soon as possible, not knowing when he’d come back. The sole idea of it made him feel like he was already better, it helped him breath deeper, his mind felt clearer.
Next morning finally came and it took longer that what he wished for him to quit and explain to his boss what was happening and arrange everything for his renounce. His boss had tried to convince him to stay in various ways but realized it was a lost battle since he had never seen Michael so sure of anything before, and all was left to do was to wish him good luck. When he came back home, he made a big cup of coffee for himself and dove in the internet looking for a suitable place to stay in India, made his arrangements in just one day and in less than a week, he was in the airport saying goodbye to Jan. He caressed her blonde hair caringly as they hugged tightly, and listened to her as she told him in her older sister kind of way to take care, to not eat anything that looked too weird, to wear condoms and write to her a lot. He laughed and agreed with a couple of those things, and kissed her cheek with a smile; “I’ll wear condoms and write, I promise”, he said, and received a little playful punch from her, “take care, too”, she said bossily and he nodded with a roll of his eyes. They hugged again and he left hurriedly as he heard a call for his flight.
He could almost physically feel how his soul was getting lighter as the airplane was getting higher and higher, and the clouds underneath them along with the first rays of that bright early sun they rarely saw down in London felt like a warm cleanse, like beautiful strings of hope. His eyes watered a little, he was proud of himself, he was finally starting to feel like a young thirty-year-old, with all his life in front of him, with all the possibilities in a tray for him to choose, and he could be happy. He took his camera out and took the first photo of his adventure, a picture of that beautiful sky. | 279b18848c644ab9ac6bc21eb2c1c890 | ['b17cc3e1342640988534c2fbe1738b86'] | James was nervous; he knew Violet was great, but he was worried about her not liking him, and he kept walking along his flat from the moment Michael texted him to let him know they were on their way until the bell rang. His stomach flipped and he hurried to open the door; when he did, he smiled quickly at Michael, who was carrying Violet in his arms, and said a cheerful “hi!” directed at both of them. “Hi!” they answered in unison, and Michael and James chuckled. “Sweetheart, this is James”, said Michael, and James felt funny at hearing Michael call someone “sweetheart” that wasn’t him; “James, this is Violet”, he continued with a little smile. “Hello, Violet”, said James with a sweet smile and a little handshake, “it’s so nice to meet you”, he added, and Violet smiled shyly. “It’s nice to meet you too”, she said, very polite and sweet, causing James and Michael to chuckle tenderly. James was enraptured by Violet’s beauty; he had seen her in photos before but in real life she was radiant. She was all Michael, which made James’ heart grow bigger; she looked exactly like him, and James thought she was a very lucky girl with extraordinary genes; her golden hair was long and curly on the ends, and her eyes were big and blue-grey, like her father’s. He discovered a few hours later she was naturally coquettish like Michael, too, and it made James laugh on his insides and smile brightly at the beautiful pair.
“Do you wanna come in, or are we leaving already?” asked James, stepping a bit to the side to make space. “Well, Violet was telling me she wanted to go to the movies again, and I’m trying to convince her for us to at least watch another movie”, said Michael, smiling at Violet, and she smiled back at him, then looked at James, who laughed softly, “well, the heart wants what it wants. Let’s go then, and we can decide in our way to the movies”, said James, taking the keys to his house, and Michael and Violet agreed. “So, Violet, what’s this movie about that you liked so much?” asked James from the front seat, next to Michael, who was starting the car. “Oh, it’s about pirates, and there’s a girl pirate who fights better than all the boys, and she has a dog”, she said excitedly, causing the two adults to smile, “that sounds amazing, I’d want to watch it twice, too”, he said, knowing Michael was going to hate him a bit for that, and he chuckled when he saw his threatening –but playful- glare. Violet nodded eagerly, “daddy, if you say yes then it’s the three of us who want to watch it!” she said, and Michael laughed softly, “darling, I would watch it a thousand times if you asked me to, don’t worry. And I liked the movie, too”, he said, looking at her through the mirror, and they smiled at each other. “Yay!” she said, jumping a bit in her seat, then after a couple of seconds she spoke a soft: “James?” and James turned around to look at her, “yes, Violet?” he said with big eyes, nervy for some reason. “Do you have a dog?” she asked, looking straight at him, like she was asking something very serious, and James chuckled, hearing Michael chuckle too; “no, I don’t, but I wish I did, I love dogs”, he said; “and why don’t you have one?” she asked quickly. James smiled crookedly, “well, I’m an actor too, like your dad, and we are not too much in our homes. I would leave him alone a lot, and I wouldn’t have too much time to take him out or play with him”, he said, and that was really one of the few things he didn’t like about his job, that he couldn’t have pets.
Violet nodded, understanding. “You could have someone to look up for him while you’re gone – she said- like a second owner”, a couple of seconds passed, “I could take care of your dog if you wanted me to” she said softly, and James smiled at her, hearing Michael laugh tenderly, “thank you, beautiful. That sounds like a good idea, maybe when you’re a bit older I’ll take your word”, he said, and winked at her. Violet smiled fully at him and then looked out the window. James turned back to his position and looked at Michael, who smiled and winked at him too. “James?” she said again after half a minute, and he turned around again with a little smile, “yes, Violet?” he answered. “Why do you speak funny? Like in Brave”, she said, and James and Michael burst out laughing, “Violet!” said Michael with a little laugh, “it’s okay!” said James, petting his arm and looking back at Violet, who was smiling too, “I didn’t mean bad funny”, she said coyly, looking at her dad and then at James. Michael smiled at her and rolled her eyes, and James answered her question, “it’s because I’m not from England”, he said, and Violet opened her eyes widely, “where are you from?” she asked. “I’m from Scotland, exactly like in Brave. You’re good with accents”, he said, and Violet smiled. “My daddy’s from Ireland”, she said proudly, like it was some ancient, magical place that was very far away. “I know –said James with big eyes too, following the lead- that’s why he speaks funny, too”, he said. “Hey!” said Michael, looking at him with a big smile, and Violet and James laughed, “well, you do”, said James with a shrug, then winked at him and caressed his forearm again, “but I love it”, he said softly. |
61a2e58ecbd44976852dea55acb7ac21 | ['b17cd01376dd40d9834c89a36bc5b947'] | Nadine came closer to him to argue, when she took a whiff of his scent, “Did you stop taking your pills? Rafe, are you out of your mind?” she fumed, brows furrowing with anger, “Don’t tell me you’re doing it with Drake.”
“What I do during my free time is none of your concern. We’re business partners, nothing personal”, he left the room after sending a final glare at Ross’ direction.
***
Sam had spent his heat with him. It felt wonderful to finally let go and let him take the control at once. His body was still in its prime, singing when the alpha touched him.
Rafe decided to tell about the second cross when his mind cleared. Right after the heat. That’d make Sam happy. Rafe was sure about it.
***
In the middle of his heat he couldn’t feel nor see Sam anywhere.
“Sam!” Rafe called out, but only silence answered him in the suddenly big cold mansion that felt like it was suffocating him at the same time.
“Why…” he wept on the cold wooden floor, his slick still gushing out of him, skin feverish, mind hazy.
### Why did you leave me
10. Chapter 10
Fury. Rage. Madness. Obsession.
All four engulfed him completely.
Drake brothers had one upped him on every. Single. Damn. Turn. No matter what he’d do, they were a step ahead, mocking him.
Nathan Drake.
It wasn’t enough for him, all of his ‘achievements’, no he has to come for the treasure that Rafe had spent half of his life on. **He didn’t have right to even come close to this quest.**
Samuel Drake.
Just another filthy _thief,_ stealing everything that they’ve worked on for the past two years and disappearing. Leaving Rafe in the middle of the heat. He trusted him! **He shouldn’t have.**
All his smiles, all those caresses, promises, _everything_ was an act.
Just a passing joke to fool Rafe and take away everything.
Rafe was an absolute fool.
He deserved every single betrayal.
***
When he finally hit Sam in the jaw, it felt satisfying. Oh so satisfying, he had to give him another kick. The younger Drake tried to negotiate with him, as if he’d trust a Drake ever again. He won’t be fooled again. Not anymore.
When Rafe told Nathan about freeing Sam from the prison, Nathan looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. Realizing, even Drakes among themselves cannot stop lying, Rafe felt a laughter bubbling up inside of him. Ironic duo they are.
Alcazar. He had to give credit to Sam for bulshitting that hard. But the fun times are over. He shot at Nathan, but Sam shielded him, taking the bullet for him. Pathetic. At least his brother dies from his own mistake.
Rafe was happy to hear Sam’s pained sobs after his dead brother, laying on the ground, crying.
_Good, feel what I’ve felt. You must suffer more._
“Now, Sam, if you still want to see the Avery’s treasure, or, wait, if you still want to live, you better tell us where to look”, Rafe drawled, putting the gun back into its holster, as he made his way to Sam. The alpha glared up to him with tears in his eyes, heated look promising painful death to Rafe, as he stood up. Few mercenaries raised their guns in a warning, but Rafe waved them off.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, _love,_ you’ll hurt my feelings”, Rafe whispered in Sam’s ear, giving him enough time to take a whiff of his scent, “How do I smell, Sam? Good, isn’t it? Guess what, one day of heat was enough to knock me up after all. Really grateful that you left me.”
That got Sam’s attention, his head snapped up to his face, eyes widening with shock.
“You twisted fucker”, he gritted out, spitting at Rafe’s shoes, “You think I’ll crawl back to you now?”
“Actually, yes, if you want your brother’s wife to live, that is”, Rafe threatened, grinning, when Sam’s eyes got darker, glowering at him, “I don’t care about you, Sam, you can go die in your filthy little lies that you feed everyone around you. But look, on the inside, you’re a more crooked man than I am, Samuel Drake. Driven by greed, lying to your loved ones”, Rafe snorted.
“You never loved me, did you?”
***
It felt like a never ending chase of hell.
Sam broke free and went towards the ship. Nadine was close to no help, questioning his every single step. Rafe was getting tired.
So much tired.
“Sam?” Rafe called, as they boarded the ship. He signaled the mercenaries to stay, to not to set off the booby traps that were supposedly planted all over the ship.
Rafe descended into the ship’s hold, which was already lit with torches, illuminating everything in orange colors. Lights danced off the coins and gems that seemed to go on and on.
When Rafe approached Sam, he was standing with his back towards him.
“Sam, give up, the ship’s surrounded, you don’t have a chance to run now”, Rafe roughly grabbed his should, turning his around, only to see a second late, that Sam was holding a rope that was connected to the booby trap.
“Sorry, Rafe.”
“Shi-“, Rafe couldn’t finish his curse, when they were both thrown away from the explosion.
When Rafe stood up, he saw Sam under a snapped in half wooden pillar.
_No, no, no, no._
Why did this all come to this? It had to end some other way. Why? _Why? **Why?**_
Then he heard Nathan’s voice.
That was it. The source all of his problems in one body.
***
Locked in a burning ship, with no one by his side, Rafe didn’t care about anything now. Even the child that grew inside of him hadn’t worried him, it’d have left him anyways.
No one stayed by his side.
He was just a passing joke for everyone.
With each swing of his cutlass he grew desperate. But, for what?
Nathan had everything, he had family, people that blindly followed him, all the recognition. Why couldn’t he just leave this one out to Rafe? Why did Sam leave him for _Nathan._
With each attack, he cut with more force, finally snapping Drake’s sword in half. And it was oh-so-satisfying to see fear in his eyes, that utter horror that his miserable life will end in _Rafe’s_ hands, who had _nothing,_ except the fortune.
“I earned this”, he huffed out, “All of it”
Rafe felt tired, he could finally feel the deep cut in his abdomen, all the injuries crashing down on him alongside all those years of emotional burden that he dragged with him, unable to share it with someone.
“You want the treasure? You can have it.” | 9dbf8e3c71764e5b9f45e2606d5f6bfe | ['b17cd01376dd40d9834c89a36bc5b947'] |
1. Chapter 1
“ _Heard this lagoon is crawling with mermaids”_ , one of the sailors grumbled in Spanish, gripping his harpoon harder. The moon shone on his scared face, casting harsh shadows.
” _Calm down, brother, they nothing but fish. We haven’t seen them even!”_ boatswain snapped back, poking the fire with the end of his blackened cutlass. The iguanas that were caught earlier were being spit roasted, smoking gently.
_“Heard they are unmeasurably beautiful, lurin’ you into the water, then – snap! There will be nothin’ but ye bones be left_ ”, older man with a missing eye scared the younger ones, waving the torch around to point at each one of them.
John ignored the men and went to the boats that were tied by the shore. Harpoons, nets, knives: everything was there. Only the mermaids themselves hadn’t been seen.
Viggo had sent him after creatures that lived only by rumors. ‘A reliable source has told me they’ve seen one of water maidens by Nassau. You’ll capture it and bring it to me, alone. You’ll have enough coins to get a crew and a ship. Now, go’, John had only nodded then and headed out.
He was set on getting to the Spanish colonies, but now – he didn’t know. They’ve sailed in and around the gulf in search of the creatures, but never even had a whiff of them.
“ _We go out now_ ”, John declared, reloading all of his flintlocks.
“ _But we only cooked the lizards!”_ they tried to protest, but one solemn look from John mellowed them. They’ve all seen him in action: fighting pirates boarding their ship like a devil. They hadn’t gotten their pistols out, before John was standing in the midst of all corpses, alone.
John had been talking to the drunkards and sailors in the dingy taverns. Half of them couldn’t finish their sentences, before passing out head-first onto the table. Most mentioned peak of mermaid sightings during the full moon night.
_“Be alert and sing”,_ John climbed into one of the boats. He was to sit in the darkness, and await with several men near the rocks. While others lured the sirens in with lit torches and noise more in the open waters.
“ _Fortis fortuna adiuvio”,_ all briefly prayed, kissing their crosses. All hoped tonight was the night that they finally catch the mermaid.
***
They’ve waited for hours, but there was no sign of mermaids. The ocean was calm, waves pushing them away from the shoreline. Everyone’s edge worn off with time, some nodding off, heads bobbing to stay awake.
Then John saw it – a flicker of tail too graceful and quiet to be a fish.
“ _They’re here”,_ John nudged the closest man, nodding towards the bait boats, “ _Signal the ground party.”_
The façade of the quietness dissipated immediately with men’s shouts and yells, when the mermaids attacked. John couldn’t do anything but to row his boat back and watch people getting slaughtered and eaten.
“ _Lift the nets!”_ he yelled, they had to be quick to catch at least one. When they almost reached the coast, their rowboat got flipped over, submerging them into the water.
John saw two long figures latching onto the old man, spilling blood everywhere. He reached for his dagger and swam forward. When he felt something touch his leg, he twisted around and pierced the creature with his whole might. The sharp look on its face faded, bringing out a pained innocent face. But John didn’t think twice, stabbing it again. He freed himself from its hands, finally crawling out to the surface. The feeling of sand under his feet were more welcome feeling.
Only two men came with him from his boat.
“ _Señor Wick!”_ the young sailor ran towards him, “ _All escaped! They cut through nets!_ ”
John dismissed him. He was getting angry: not only he had lost most of his men, all mermaids have escaped. When he walked towards one of the wrecked boats that washed up ashore, he heard splashes.
Wick rushed towards the sound source, unsheathing rapiers from its scabbards.
“ _Merda”,_ he heard Italian curses and even louder splats of water hitting the rocks.
Curious, John jumped down the slope, finally seeing the creature.
Pale light from the moon reflected on its pale scales. When she turned around – it was a he. And he had a pissed off face that smoothed out, as soon as he saw John.
“Hello”, he purred out, cautiously looking at his drawn swords.
Their silent moment ended quickly, when several of the men yelled and ran with torches in their hands, “ _Wick has caught one!”_
The merman seemed to snap, fruitlessly trying to scramble out of the trapped circle of rocks and wood. John moved on instinct, jabbing the end of his rapier into the wriggling tail. The man below him bellowed in pain, the little pool of water he was in completely getting painted with his blood.
“ _Knock him out!”_ the one eyes man ordered, helping to throw the net over the fighting body. A single blow in his head by the blunt end of the gun and the creature was out cold.
“ _What a catch”_ , the younger man yelped excitedly, breaking others from the silence of a shock, starting an uproar of celebration.
John cast one last glance, before the body was roughly dumped into a glass container.
***
Later, at the dawn, when everyone was snoring peacefully, John walked up to the tank. The water was still tinted red from earlier. Taking a pity, John took its tail into his hands. It was warm and scaly, fins at his hips and back to tail looking as soft as a silk. He wrapped a cloth around the wounded area, stopping the blood flow. |
e92fb441b5f5450193fd0defee1525fa | ['b19250122c664604911f90ee8c791b3f'] | “Uh…you mind if I….draw something?” Craig felt a bit selfish asking for this. This was Tweek’s way of calming down and focusing. But the blonde had no problem with it.
“Oh, go ahead!”
Craig sat down and grabbed a green marker. Granted, drawing wasn’t really his forte, but he gave it his best shot.
When he was done, he set down the marker and stared at a tree that had become really interesting all of the sudden.
Tweek looked at the drawing that happened to be of him. In the drawing he was smiling, his hands behind his back, and in the background were coffee cups and what appeared to be theatre masks.
Before he could ask, Craig had already started explaining.
“Look, I like you okay? When you’re happy about something, it also makes me happy too for some reason. And I thought….well maybe when I feel like shit, and the real things not there, I can just look at this and feel better.”
He pushed back his hair, covering his eyes with his hand, “That just sounds really fucking gay, doesn’t it?”
“No!” Tweek shouted, then lowered his voice, “No, it’’s actually…really sweet.And…I-I know what you mean.”
The boys stared at the ground for a moment, before their making eye contact. They smiled sheepishly at each other, before they hear Clyde shout behind them, startling both of them.
“HEY! IS TWEEK GONNA PLAY OR WHAT?”
Craig glared back at Clyde, but immediately relaxed. “Right.” He glanced back at Tweek offering him his hand,
“wanna come join us?”
Tweek took a double take at Craig’s hand before grabbing it.
“S-sure.”
So, hand in hand, they headed to the black top.
“You guys gonna hold hands the whole game?”
“Fuck off, Clyde.”
**Author's Note:**
> So the new episode of south park is apparently going to be a Tweek and Craig centered episode, and all I have to say is: Matt and Trey, please go easy on my poor, fragile Creek heart. | 6febfd283a3740c4bff7383145bb44b8 | ['b19250122c664604911f90ee8c791b3f'] | Love Gestures | (Tweek x Craig)
I was walking around the hallways, nothing really interesting happening. I glanced to my write and saw Tweek walking and talking with Clyde, and suddenly I got an idea.
Was it stupid? Yeah.
Was it gonna embarrass the hell out of Tweek? F*ck yeah.
“HEY TWEEK!” I yelled from across the hallway, causing the blonde to nearly jump out of his skin and whip around to face me.
“W-WHAT?” He let out a high pitched shriek.
I looked him dead in the eye, and flipped him off with both hands. He just rolled his eyes and scoffed, until he looked back to see that I had used my thumbs and middle fingers to make a heart in his direction. The flustered expression on his face was adorable, and made the screeching of nearby fangirls all worth it.
I smirked at him and spun around, heading to my next class.
After school, I started walking home. That was until a pair of arms flung around my neck from behind, surprising me.
“W-wha-”
“Y-your a dick, you know that?”
A small sensation of relief filled me as I discovered it was Tweek who had made the gesture and not a mugger or something.
“Yeah,” I agreed, turning around in his hold, so I could wrap my arms around his torso.
“But _ you're _ dating this dick.”
Tweek scowled, but the blush on his cheeks and the smile he was trying (emphasis on try) to hide, ruined the annoyed look he was going for.
I placed my hand on his cheek, and placed a peck on his lips. I could feel him kiss back for half a second before shoving my face away.
“C-Craig, Stop! I’m mad at you!”
“No your not.”
“Yes I am!”
“Then why are you blushing?”
He had no answer, so he just stood there, glaring while his face was red.
“OH MA GOD! GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” Cartman yelled at us, making Kyle punch him as he say something I couldn’t quite hear because of the distance. Cartman retorted something I also couldn’t hear, but knowing those two, I’d say it was along the lines of,
_ Shut up, fatass _
_ Don’t call me fat, you fuckin jew _
I glanced over at Tweek, who was looking down to hide his tomato face. I held my hand out to him, causing him to glance up slightly.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He let out a soft grunt before grabbing my hand and walking along side me back to my house.
“I hate you….”
I smirked back at him, kissing his on the cheek.
“I love you, too, Tweekers.”
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry for mini hiatus, fics coming soon to an Archive of our own near you! |
35ecd4cd57ad4f0ab143fa694c66ec0e | ['b1a9254c919e4e579389b5c3aa965624'] | Jeongguk checks videos before that date and he worries, because there’s no Yoongi in those videos. Just him, arguing with _ nothing, _ aiming the knife at _ nothing, _ yelling at _ nothing, _ scared because of _ nothing, _ crying because of _ nothing. _ Every single video is the same. And Jeongguk can’t stop shaking as he goes back in time.
_ Nothing, nothing, nothing. _ Yoongi isn’t there.
But the lights _ do _ blink, the piano _ does _ sound even when it’s completely shattered into pieces, the things in the house _ do _ move, even when there’s absolutely nothing.
“Dear Lord-” Jeongguk whispers, he’s crying, truthfully terrified. _ What the fuck is going on? _ Where’s Yoongi? Is he going crazy? He isn’t, the videos are proving him whatever is happening in his flat is real. Taehyung’s record proves him it’s real (he ran out of the bathroom scared, yelling, asking for help). Jeongguk isn’t losing his mind. So, what-
Jeongguk reaches one record in the files where Yoongi _ does _ appear.
Jeongguk barely remembers that day, he came back from Namjoon’s place, completely high, and they fought. He witnesses the fight, he is completely unfazed when Yoongi pushes him against the wall, he doesn’t even blink when Yoongi starts to choke him. He does gasps when his old self pushes his boyfriend to save his life, though.
Jeongguk watches in horror how Yoongi’s body falls unconscious to the floor.
“What-?”
The Jeongguk in the video cries and checks Yoongi’s pulse to see if he’s alive. He moves around the living room, presumably looking for his vet stuff, and then he drags Yoongi out of the living room.
Present Jeongguk waits and waits for minutes for past Jeongguk to appear in the living room again. The puddle of Yoongi’s blood gets on his nerves but unexplainably, it’s the only thing that Jeongguk can see. He loses track of the time when his past self comes back, but Yoongi doesn’t. His mouth is suspiciously covered with something very dark, and very red and Jeongguk tries with all his will to look away.
This past version of himself goes in and out of the bathroom carrying plastic black bags that he fits the best he can in the bag he takes to his work. Jeongguk feels a cold breeze running down his spine. He throws an amorfus looking stuff on a pot on the stove and puts it to cook.
“Oh no” before the Jeongguk in the video leaves the flat, he turns off the pot. Jeongguk shakes his head. _ No, no, no, no. _ He fastforwards the video. Past Jeongguk doesn’t come back in hours, and when he does, he doesn’t have the bags anymore. He then eats what was in the pot, which suspiciously looks like Yoongi’s heart.
Jeongguk stops the video and throws up.
He's still unable to sleep.
Even when he is sure the recording is not lying to him, there's no track in his brain from those memories. _ What has he been seeing all this time? Who is that man trying to impersonate his boyfriend? _
"It's a hallucination, that's it, that's what it is," he tries to close his eyes still lying on the floor with all his nerves combusting when he hears someone knocking on the door.
"Delivery service for Mr. Jeon!" he stands up as fast as he can, he doesn't remember when was the last time somebody visited or, better said, the last time he ordered something.
A delivery boy is standing in front of his door with a cap covering half of his face, he doesn't even let Jeongguk speak when he shoves a bouquet of red roses into his chest, he keeps his sight in the bloody, almost beating color of the roses and the little card in between the flowers.
"Than-" there's no one there, not even a shadow of the delivery boy and Jeongguk gets anxious.
He goes into the house again, trying to understand what is happening. He can't take his eyes from the flowers even if they make him nauseous.
"I'm glad you like them, bunny” that voice and the familiar presence “I’m back” the scent of the roses makes his nose runny and the tears start to flow freely.
"What the hell are y-you doing here?" Yoongi’s angelic smile feels like a slap in Jeongguk's face, he can't step back or forwards, he's just there trying to explain himself what's going on.
"It's my house too, am I not allowed to be here?" his lips tremble, his sight is blurry and his mind is all foggy, the only clear thought is that he's just having another hallucination.
As the fog dissolves and clearness in his head helps to solve the complicated puzzle, he feels cold sweat dripping through his back and a solid coldness on his limbs pressing hard his muscles as if he was twisting to a meat mill.
"Y-You shouldn't be here, hyung" he says shaking from head to toes.
"Why? Didn't you miss me?" Jeongguk's eyes wander through the vision he has right in front of him, small flashbacks of those tapes come back to his memory, the same hoodie, the same pants, that shiny black hair framing the pale complexion and he is sure all his skin, nerve by nerve is totally aware of this horribly wrong situation.
A strange feeling bubbles up from his stomach, he begs himself to scream but he's not able to move a muscle, the weight of that bouquet of roses starts to decrease and something wet and slimy takes over his hands and wets his shirt. | 39ca76d573e0451f927354acae6af29f | ['b1a9254c919e4e579389b5c3aa965624'] |
The one about an ending
**Author's Note:**
> Hi everyone!
> We know it has taken us a while to update, but we've been through some crazy times in here. **ladyYellow** moved out to another city because he has a new work, and with everything it was really hard to finish this on the scheduled time.
> We promise we're working on the next part of this series for you, just wait for them.
>
> Anyway-
> This is a sad chapter, based on the song **Ending Scene** from IU.
> This happens before Yoongi goes to the army, so don't worry. You already know they're going to be together at the end ;)
>
> Enjoy!
It isn’t even cold enough to be justifiable catching a cold at this time of the year, but here I am. Locked up in the dorm, with an awful headache and a really, really sore throat, almost unable to talk. I can’t get out of the room, so I won’t make anyone else ill.
“Hyung, I’m fine, really-” my voice is barely audible. Jin-hyung looks at me severely, wrapping me almost up to my nose in the blankets, and leaving a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. He cocks an eyebrow, skeptical.
“You can’t even talk properly, Jeongguk-ah. You’ll be better resting here, while you recover”
“Hyung... I don’t want to be alone” hyung shakes his head slowly.
“No one can stay with you, Kook”
“What about Suga-hyung? He surely can stay with me today...” hyung sighs, overwhelmed.
“Stop being so childish, Jeongguk-ah. You aren’t fifteen anymore, you can survive without any of us for some hours, and you’ll spend almost all the time asleep for sure, what do you want someone here for?” I open my mouth to protest, but hyung doesn’t allow me to say anything “We’ll come back at night. If you need something, call me and I’ll come”
“Where is Suga-hyung?”
“Yoongi-yah hasn’t came back since yesterday, Jeongguk-ah. He has been working on some songs” I nod silently “Sleep, you need to rest”
Hyung leaves the room and I close my eyes, trying not to cry. Well, _yes._ It’s true I’ve been ill for some days and I’ve lost track of the time, but it’s also true the only thing in my mind is Yoongi-hyung. It has been days since I last saw him, since I last got a message from him, since I last checked if he was fine. I know he must be locked up in his studio, looking for perfection, he’s so thick headed after all, but I don’t think that’s enough reason to forget about me, right?
I think about the time we have been together. Most of the time is like this. We can’t be together as much as we want to because we’re always so busy. He’s busy with his music, and I’m busy with rehearsals and practices. I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand.
I wonder if it will always be like this, and I think for a moment that perhaps it would be better for hyung if I wasn’t with him. At least he would have more time for doing what he likes.
* * *
“When was the last time you saw Jeongguk?” Suran-noona’s annoying voice comes to my ears in HD through my headphones. Why the hell is she asking me this?
“What?” that may or may not sound more aggressive than I intended to.
“When was the last time you slept? You look _dead_ and you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes, you’re in an awful mood-” noona leaves her headphones over the counter and walks to the exit “If you wanted to rest, you should have told me and not being an asshole, Yoongi-yah” I don’t want to ruin this too. I grab noona’s wrist and I stop her. Is it really her the one I should talk about this? There’s no one else willing to listen to me and I need a different point of view... a feminine one?
“Noona- Can you give me an advice?” she looks confused but she accedes to listen, I speak fast because I’m nervous. At some point, I started to think this was too much because I can’t see him, I can’t be by his side when he needs me, i can’t listen to him when he’s stressed or afraid.
“I really don’t know about this, I’m your ‘old-maid noona’ for something” she mocks me. Once she heard me talking to Hoseok about that and she got angry with me for weeks “But- Kookie’s just a kid, maybe he really doesn’t understand what’s going on and surely he would prefer to spend more time with you... Yeah, that’s what I think. Obviously that can’t be, right? Both are very busy and you’re getting tired. Just look at you- have you seen a razor? You’re growing a mustache”
Suran-noona hugs me and even when it feels soothing, I don’t think this is entirely right.
“Suga-hyung...” I push noona away when I hear the door opening, and that’s when I see Kookie. I can’t understand what he’s feeling because he lowers his gaze. Noona mouths an ‘I’ll leave’ and I nod.
“Jeongguk-ah... We need to talk” maybe this is for the best, letting him go. Him, more than anyone else in the world, deserves to be happy.
* * *
I look from the couch to the window facing the street in silence, breathing softly. The cup of tea TaeTae-hyung left for me this morning is still untouched and getting cold. My eyes are completely red and swollen because I wasn’t able to stop crying the whole night, recreating in my head the conversation hyung and I had yesterday.
_“No-”_ I remember I told him I didn’t want to talk to him, after watching him hugging Suran-noona.
_“What you mean ‘no’?”_ |
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