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6bda24aafa4e42dc9bbbe986f9f7e890 | ['b1b9a60cff81476f9961c6067c0b9d08'] | „No, not at all.” Jared put his hands up in a defensive gesture. „I just wasn't expecting it. You've always been quite a ladies man.” he pointed out with a smirk and the atmosphere loosened.
„True that.” Theo chuckled and took a sip from his glass.
„But I still don't understand why would you wanna quit the business. Is he forbidding you or-” realization crawled onto his face. „Oh. He doesn't know, does he?”
„No. And I would like to keep it that way. He's not from this world and there is no need for him to get sucked into it. It's too dangerous, you know that.”
„So what? You're just gonna cut yourself off completely? Forget all the requests and contacts? Me included?”
„No, of course not. You're my best friend, nothing changes that. I will simply stop using Doza's services, I guess.” his expression went wistful for a moment and then he continued: „But this is all hypothetical for now. I plan to slow down a little bit and see how things will go.”
„Good to hear that.” relief was clear in Jared's voice. There was a pause in the conversation, both of them contemplating their own thoughts. Few minutes later Jared spoke again: „So tell me more about him. Where did you meet? What is he like?”
„Perfect.”
Further conversation was pleasant, Theo dwelled on all of Adam's features with flushed cheeks, praising him with all the words he could have found. Jared mocked and teased him a little bit about acting like a teenager talking about his first love, but in fact he was truly delighted to see his best friend like that. Theo has changed, he was no longer grumpy and serious for most of the time – he seemed to be genuinely happy.
Then, the rest of the night they've spent on discussing the usual subjects – sports, women, cars, a little bit of politics and good suits.
***
Couple of days later Theo was walking down the main road with a bag of takeout in his hand. He was heading to his apartment, where Adam was already waiting for him to bring dinner. The singer's excitement was visible - wide grin on his face, eyes sparkling with happiness, fast pace of walking and quiet-but-still-audible singing under his breath. All that made people stare at him when he was passing, but he didn't care. For the first time in his life Theo did not mind people observing him. Actually, he wanted everybody to see how happy he was. Despite his relationship with Adam having passed the actual declaration of love and absolute sureness of their feelings for each other, it was all still new. Weird and partially awkward, but in a funny way. There was no tension between them, just getting to know each other.
As much as Theo would love that, they weren't seeing each other every day. They had little breaks, some evenings spent just texting or exchanging messages online, some days not talking at all. Theo hated those quiet days, wanting to know about every second of Adam's life, even if he was just brushing his teeth or doing grocery shopping. Everything about Adam was fascinating.
But today was one of those evenings that they were going to spend together. Adam called him about an hour earlier, asking if they could hang out, because he's in the neighborhood and could come by. Theo was out, in the city, but agreed for a meeting right away. He told Adam to let himself into his apartment, using the key that was hidden under the doormat. The guitarist laughed at the cliché-obvious location of the key, but said he'll do just that. Theo informed he will be home in an hour or so, and promised to grab some dinner for them on his way there.
He was running a little bit late, due to the line he had to wait in at the restaurant, so he sent a short text to Adam. He was telling himself he's being polite doing that, not wanting his guest to wait impatiently, but the truth was he just couldn't resist _any_ form of contact with the man.
He was only three streets away from his apartment, taking the shortcut through some blocks, to be there faster. He looked around to see if there were any cars near him, in order to cross the street and it was then, when he realized he was being followed.
A man in dark clothes, about four or five inches taller than Theo, steady, measured movements and short characteristic haircut suggesting some kind of military background. Not entirely professional though, as his following skills were very poor and he was childishly easy to notice.
Usually, Theo would simply go to his apartment and wait for the situation to develop. He would figure out that man's intentions and confront him at a moment suitable for himself. Now however, there was Adam in his apartment, so leading a potential killer right onto his track was definitely not an option. Theo slowed down reasonably and turned right, into some dark, dead-end alley. He put the food down on the ground, hid himself in the shadow by one of the doorframes and waited for the man to emerge from around the corner. He mentally cursed his recent carelessness, resulting with not carrying any weapon right now. When the follower passed Theo and he was now situated behind him, he went out into the light and asked „Who are you?”
Surprised military man turned around on his heels and faced the hitman.
„I am here to give you a message from Mr. Fuller.” he emotionlessly stated, not even trying to pretend that he was not following him. | 89f69849f83f463ca9b593e68c355944 | ['b1b9a60cff81476f9961c6067c0b9d08'] | After a few more minutes of a half-shy rubbing against each other and getting to know each other’s bodies, both their shirts landed on the floor. Adam lowered himself to trace the path of kisses from Theo’s neck and down to his chest, his lips circling around the nipple. He bit it not-so-gently and the wave of pleasure went through Theo’s body. His hips moved up from the couch despite Adam’s weight pinning him down, and a very audible groan formed in his throat. He felt Adam smiling at that and coming back up to kiss him on the lips again. Both their hands traveled down, tugging on the pyjama bottoms and brushing against each other’s erections. They quickly got rid of the remaining clothes and the guitarist’s fingers wrapped around both of them. He started moving his hand slowly, the thumb brushing gently but the rest of the palm squeezing them together, pre-come leaking and providing the pleasant slickness of the movement.
„You like that?” asked Adam with a smirk.
„Yee-ah, keep doing that.” but only a moment later Theo had to add: “Ooh, Adam… This is so…” he breathed, not able to compound a full sentence. Adam has barely touched him and he was so close already, if things will continue this way he’ll finish embarrassingly early. “Just g-give me.. a moment.” He pleaded, wanting to regain at least a shred of control.
“Why?” demanded Adam with an impossibly low voice and, underneath his own fingers, Theo felt his stomach contracting from pleasure as well. ‘ _He’s so close too._ ’ The hand kept going up and down.
“Adam… I’m gonna…” he didn’t get to finish the sentence as the overwhelming wave of pleasure was brought onto him. His head thumped over the back of the couch, back arched, voice and breath got caught up in his throat. Adam’s lips were pressed over his own once again, kisses sloppy but still full of eagerness. After a few moments a long moan left Theo’s mouth and the sound he articulated was enough to push Adam over the edge as well. His teeth were clenching on Theo’s collarbone, the hand not occupied with stroking their cocks - pressed against his chest.
They were both breathing heavily, their mixed come splattered over their stomachs. Adam leaned over Theo, lips gently brushing over the love bite he left there only seconds earlier.
“You are amazing.” Theo stated after he got his breath back and looked at Adam who now moved over to sit by his side, one leg still spread over his thighs nevertheless. A beautiful, shy smile brightened his face and the blue eyes landed on Theo’s and they kissed again, slowly and deliberately.
“Shower?” Theo offered.
“Yeah, definit-“ he started talking but then looked around with confusion and asked: “what time is it?”
“Almost 11.”
“Oh no! I’m supposed to meet the guys at 1. We have to make a soundcheck for tonight and I need to get some fresh clothes from Mike’s apartment. Shit, I’m never gonna make it in time.” He wrinkled his nose in annoyance and got up hastily.
“Where’s the soundcheck? Is it far from here?”
“It’s at 42nd Street Nightclub. Actually… where exactly am I?” he glanced towards the window disorientated and made Theo chuckle.
“It’s a thirty-minute walk from here. Relax.” He said as he got up from the couch and approached Adam to tug on his elbow gently and pull him closer. “We can take that shower now and I’ll lend you some clothes and then walk you to the club.” He offered, his face getting closer to Adam’s and their lips almost touching now.
“O-okay. But I can just wear my yesterday’s-“
“No. You’ll take my clothes and then you will _have to_ come back here to give them back, won’t you?” He said with a vicious smirk, mischief glowing in his eyes.
“Oh, you have everything planned out here, I see.” Adam responded with a snicker and met Theo’s lips.
They moved towards the bathroom and took a hot shower involving a lot of grabbing, kissing and caressing. After they toweled and clothed themselves – Adam put on his own trousers and got a nice dark-blue shirt and a black elegant jacked from Theo’s wardrobe – they left the apartment to stop by at a café nearby and grab some coffee with sandwiches for breakfast. Then, they kept walking and talking about everything and anything. The conversation went on easily, just like the night before.
“We’re here.” Theo stated after some time, pointing at the shady club across the street. Adam eyed it suspiciously and sarcastically commented: “Well, that looks promising.”
“It’s not that bad inside, I’ve actually seen some good bands there.” Theo tried to console the guitarist.
“Would you like to see a shitty one tonight? We’ll be playing around 10pm.” He offered uncertainly and got Theo’s eager reaction: “Sure, I’d love to! And I’m sure you’ll be great.”
“Okay then.” Adam glanced at his phone to check the time and reluctantly said: “I’d better go. See you tonight?” he wanted to make sure one more time.
“Of course. We can go somewhere afterwards if you want to.” The suggestion left his mouth before he managed to think about it. ‘ _Why do I do that around him all the time? Control yourself, Hutchcraft._ ’
“It’s a date.” Adam said, quickly gave Theo a delicate peck on the lips and was already halfway across the street before Theo realized he was grinning like an idiot.
*** one month later *** |
6ee29536c3b6418f8e662c6e64e093a2 | ['b1bef6a33429461da881f91889ae137c'] | Blue Plate Special for [](http://southpaw526.livejournal.com/profile)LINK : _billy and dom in a pub, somewhere_
Title: Ockham’s Razor
Pairing: Billy/Dom (sorta)
Word Count: 625
Disclaimer: I. Am. Making. This. Shit. Up.
Feedback: Is welcome.
Cross-posted to: [](http://fellow-shippers.livejournal.com/profile)LINK , [](http://monaboyd.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://monaboyd.livejournal.com/)**monaboyd**
At first, Billy thought that time just worked differently in the southern hemisphere--like the way the seasons are backwards or how water supposedly runs down the drain in the wrong direction. What else could it be, really? What else could make days grow elliptical? What else could explain why it was that Monday went skipping into Thursday, but Friday afternoon often stretched all the way into September?
Then, he decided that it must be a product of making movies the way they did--shooting at all hours of the day and night, repeating lines and scenes until he'd lost count of the number of takes and Pippin was talking about breakfast at dusk. He figured that maybe they had worked enough magic to create an actual bubble; a blip in reality where Middle Earth became real Earth and _of course_ there was a time difference. Like England and New Mexico, only these two were touching.
Now, he knows that it's Dom.
Dom is a Time Lord, able to bend and flex the very fabric of reality. Able to make a day last forever and end entirely too quickly, all at once. And, near as Billy can tell, he's completely unaware of this talent. He goes about the business of living--of being Dom--twisting clocks, stopping watches, slowing the sun's march across the sky and then sending it forward again at double-time and never realizes his effect on those around him.
Billy thinks about stop-motion photography. About the camera techniques that made _The Matrix_ so cool. About those commercials where everything freezes and rotates suddenly, returning the viewer to the same instant from a different perspective. And he thinks that maybe this is what it's like to be Dom. Everything moves and Dom moves through everything and nothing is the same even half a step later. The laws of physics need not apply. E equals DM squared.
Take now, for example. They've been in this pub since eight p.m. BST (Boyd Standard Time, which is Greenwich Mean plus nine minutes, give or take), but it's been at least three days judging by the empty glasses, the decimated plate of chips, and the pile of cigarette butts in his salad bowl.
Somewhere back about noon on the day they sat down, Dom held up his left hand, turning backward on himself in mid-sentence to explain that Patty Boyd was technically still married to George Harrison when Clapton wrote "Layla" for her and that, Bills, is why it's such a fucking tragedy to remake it as acoustic. The song's about passion--about loving someone else's wife for fuck's sake, not about...not about...
And that's where it happened. That's where Dominic Monaghan stopped time, rewound it, and set it forward again at a pace of his own.
He's finally managed to pin one of these moments of cascade down and Billy is just enough of a geek to wonder if alternate realities spin off when Dom does this. Other Billys and other Doms, sitting in other pubs, walking down other streets in other clothes not knowing that they're mirror images. Not caring, maybe.
It's a power he envies, this ability to bend time at will. Billy's own powers are far more mundane. He can carry a tune. He can make things with his hands. He has good balance. He has good luck.
"Think of what you could do with it," he says, not realizing he's spoken aloud until Dom nods solemnly and responds.
"Yeah, but I think it's better left to the Harp Seals, don't you?"
Billy blinks. Another day has passed while he was lost in thought. He looks at his glass, now strangely drained, and throws back the last swallow.
"Aye, to the seals, Dom." | d6463d535bfd4e089f859bcc3c02d4d7 | ['b1bef6a33429461da881f91889ae137c'] | Boom Towns and Relics
**Author's Note:**
> This is meant as a companion piece to LINK and should be read first.
Two short companion pieces on the agenda for today. Look for the second after lunch. :)
Title: Boom Towns and Relics
Word Count: ~800
Disclaimer: I am making this shit up.
Summary: It's like one of those old Crosby and Hope road movies, only without the big production number.
Archive: Please ask.
_With thanks to Susan and Deb for the beta advice, which I cheerfully ignored on almost every count._
Billy’s gran had a button jar. It was massive--more of a vat, really. He’d asked her, once, where it came from and the answer was a long and rambling story involving Morag MacLean (the wife of a local publican), half of a smoked pig, and the re-stocking of pickled eggs at the Black Briar. The details were a bit hazy.
But the buttons. Oh, the buttons were glorious. All the colors of the rainbow and every size and shape known to mankind. And the history! Gran's jar was seeded with the jar her mother kept. And that one had been started with _her_ mother's collection. Gran could tell him which button came from her father's cardigan and which was once attached to her own gran's Sunday dress. Brass ones from Grandad's uniform. A wooden one from Pippin's trousers.
Billy would bring her buttons that he found on the street, the bus...the playground. Once, he even surreptitiously clipped a beautiful peacock blue specimen from a coat hanging on a hook in a pub in London and mailed it to her express post. He'd lost count of all the times there had been buttons he'd wanted to send back home.
Today, he is standing in an antique shop in Prescott, Arizona and there is an entire shelf of button jars. Dom is off in the corner, eyeing a cigar store Indian that stands at least two feet taller than either of them and, in the back of his head, Billy hears a small alarm going off. There is just no way that thing is going to fit into their rental car--even if they had been able to score the convertible.
Dom's jingling the change in his pocket and peering up into the weathered face and Billy can practically hear him running through a litany of potential names. He knows that, should one be chosen, they will have a staunch companion for the rest of this road trip and will be hauling the thing off the roof every time Dom wants to snap a picture at a landmark. A smart man would intervene and steer him over toward the old postcards and the collection of bowler hats before things got entirely out of hand.
But. The buttons. They’re calling to him. Seven jars in total. That one--the Mason jar--looked to have a whole bunch of antler buttons. (The one from great-grandfather Murray’s sweater had been staghorn.) And the one next to it had a decidedly blue bent--like the original owner might have stored her buttons by color code. The one on the end had marbles mixed in.
“Simon!” Dom declares. “Simon Redfeather!”
“You'll need a handcart,” Billy answers with a sigh. “And some rope.” And a bloody crane, too, you lunatic.
Dom practically skips past in search of the owner. “We're going to the Grand Canyon! Simon wants to have his picture taken with a mule.”
Billy sighs again and squeezes both eyes shut for a long moment. Gran is gone. Margaret has the buttons now; the jar sits on her hearth between a wrought iron candle stand and a horrible sculpture of a cat.
How would he even get them back to Scotland?
Dom pauses on his way back to Simon the Gigantically Inappropriate Indian. “C'mon, Bills. He’s not going to load himself.”
It takes close to twenty minutes and a whole lot of swearing on everyone’s part, but, eventually, they get the massive Indian strapped to the roof of their rented Impala. As Dom and the cashier head back inside to settle up, Billy sinks into the passenger seat and eyes the ceiling suspiciously. It’ll cost them a mint if the roof caves in. Assuming they survive, that is.
But here's Dom, back again. Whistling a merry tune and hopping behind the wheel like there isn’t the slightest thing odd about two men in a car with a wooden Indian strapped on top.
“Mules?” Billy asks.
“Mules.”
And they're off again.
Hours later, in a motel just west of Flagstaff, Dom saunters out of the bathroom and tosses a heavy bag onto the foot of Billy’s sagging bed.
“A gift,” he says, talking around his toothbrush. “From Simon Redfeather and myself.”
Billy glances at the Indian, safely ensconced in the next bed with covers drawn up to his chin and Dom's own eyeshade blocking the light, then turns an eye toward Dom, but he’s already back at the sink. The bag plinks as Billy nudges it with his foot.
When Dom emerges, he is fresh-faced and a bit damp around the edges. He climbs into the empty side of Billy's bed and clicks out the light.
“You're going to need those buttons to trade with Simon's people. I'm told they drive a hard bargain.” |
2e401ad69a4d431180c38d0394b7c675 | ['b1cf0144d1ed4e1da29c15040761fed2'] | She had barely sipped the fresh tea her daughter had fixed for her, and she placed the nearly full cup on the table, as finished with her morning repast as she was with her daughter-in-law's rebellion. Smoothing her hands over the silky smoothness of her skirt, she continued. "She has an excellent solicitor in Mr. Shelton, and it took time and quite a sum of money to get an ally from his office on the payroll to help us take control of her father's shipping business. We're still profiting from that venture, with Isabelle being totally unaware of our takeover. It's only a matter of time before we can arrange for her shares from Gerald's estate to dry up."
She discovered that it was difficult to remain angry at the little chits' audacity when she did so love undermining a challenge and calculating a new move. Smiling again, she continued. "Isabelle doesn't have much to bring to the table at the moment, but she can still be an asset to us. Her time away can be used to our advantage."
Cora rose, signaling teatime was over, and Regina, placing her own half-empty cup on the table, rose as well. Cora placed her hand on Regina's elbow and escorted her from the parlor. Passing through the doorway, she smiled benevolently and said, "Besides, darling. It will give us time to concentrate on finding a suitable match for you as well."
XXXXXX
Isabelle swept open the door to her bedroom and fairly sailed inside. She leaned back against the heavy door, a wide smile for the two who waited for her, and said breathlessly, "It's done! We leave in the morning!"
"Oh, thank heavens!" exclaimed her maid, Martha. Ten years her senior, Martha was a stout woman with shock of blonde hair she kept in subjugation beneath a lace cap. She was smart and capable, with the constitution of three men and a peculiar talent for balancing dutiful obedience to her younger mistress with genuine friendship and concern. She'd been taking care of Isabelle since she was six years old, and it would be cold day in Hell when Martha Potts let her charge brave the unknown world without her.
Launching from the maid's lap and into her mother's embrace, seven-year-old Lucy squealed with undisguised glee. Isabelle kissed the bonny child with great blue eyes and dancing, chestnut ringlets, laughing at her enthusiasm. "Alright, darling, time to get busy. Be a good girl and go to your room and start laying your clothes out on the bed."
"I will, Mama." She opened the door and ran across the hall to the nursery to arrange her things.
Knowing they had to pack in a hurry, Isabelle wasted not one moment. Standing before her wardrobe, she began pulling out her own clothing, laying dresses and sundries on the bedstead while issuing orders to her friend. "Martha, would you be a dear and ask Martin to bring down my old trunks from the attic? And, maybe a few that won't be missed?" Her teeth tugging on her bottom lip, she took mental inventory of what she remembered was in storage. "I know, have him bring down Gerald's trunks for Lucy; and enough for your belongings, too."
"Of course, Miss." Isabelle smiled. Martha still addressed her as "miss" even though she had been married more than eight years ago. Crossing the room, the servant made her way over to Isabelle and placed a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her hurried movements. "Oh, Miss, you're finally getting out of this house, getting a life of your own!"
Taking a deep breath, Isabelle looked into her friend's happy and supportive face. "Yes," she answered. "It's taken a lot of planning, but we'll finally be on our own. Oh, Martha, we're going into the wide, wide world at last!"
"That we are, Miss. And right well we'll do, too, I expect! The sooner we're shed of this family the better we'll be," the maid returned conspiratorially. "There, I said that out loud!"
Isabelle laughed. "Indeed you did! I've said it often enough myself!" Squeezing Martha's hand, she released it and turned back to her task. "We'll have time to pat ourselves on the back when we're on the train in the morning. I'll get my things together and then go to Mr. Shelton's office for whatever legal papers I'll need, and then to the bank. While I'm gone, you can help Lucy pack. I'll pack this afternoon, and make a list of the furniture to be shipped later."
"Yes, Miss." Martha left the room briskly, closing the door behind her. Going to her bureau, Isabelle opened a drawer and retrieved a small, black handbag. As she slammed the now empty drawer closed, a framed miniature of her late husband fell over with a thick thud. Startled, Isabelle picked it up and gazed upon Gerald's striking features.
There was no denying he had been handsome. Indeed, it had been his attractive face that had won her girlish, 17-year-old heart nine years ago. If she had known then what cold and self-serving man lay beneath those sculpted features, she would have shunned his courtship and saved herself much heartache. But then, he had given her Lucy, and she was worth any price life or fate would have demanded of her. She set the photograph back on the bureau and began to turn away, determined to leave it behind as she was leaving her life here behind. Thinking better of it, though, she picked it up and set it among the things she had set aside to pack. She may go her entire life without any desire to look upon his haughty face, but he was likely to be the only father Lucy would ever know and she'd pass the photograph to her when she was older.
XXXXX | c2b8e504a2dc4d65a1ef998f5004f5a6 | ['b1cf0144d1ed4e1da29c15040761fed2'] | "What offense, indeed? Ye know right well what I'm referrin' to!" he stormed, hands on hips and feet set apart. Oh, but he was splendid! She imagined him standing on board a great ship, his keen eyes on every man, every rope, every instrument on board, barking out orders, his compact body deftly dancing over the decks as he orchestrated the rhythm of the ship. He radiated power, and her heart fluttered in her chest as the image of him standing firmly on the deck of a ship flitted through her mind's eye.
"Stop yer, gaping at me, Madam, an' explain yerself!"
_ Had she been staring? _ Blushing, Isabelle dropped her gaze and resumed scrubbing the little dress across her washboard. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I really don't know what's upset you so."
Crossing his arms over his chest he pulled himself up to his fullest height. "I'm referrin' to the blasted ladder standin' 'gainst yon shelf in th' bloody library," he explained with calculated patience.
"Oh, that," Isabelle laughed. She pulled the dress out of the warm, sudsy water and began wringing it out, the water flowing down her forearms and dripping off of her elbows. "I pulled it upstairs this morning so I could dust the upper shelves."
"Aye, I could see that for meself!" he affirmed. "The question is why?"
Isabelle added the small, wrung-out twist of fabric to similar bundles in a wicker basket on her worktable and looked up into Daniel's eyes, her own wide with feigned innocent. "Because they needed it; I haven't dusted up there since we moved in."
He watched her remove one of Martha's blouses from another basket and continued. "An' it could not wait 'til I was here to give ye a hand with it?"
"Why, Captain? Do you like dusting?"
"No, I donna like dustin'!" he groused, "but ye could have waited for me ta bring it in an' see it were placed for ye! Ye've no business carryin' the thing up the stairs like that!"
Stifling a grin, Isabell began wringing the blouse and countered, "Come now, sir, it wouldn't have been very convenient to have Lucy see the ladder floating up the stairs on its own, now would it?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "The lass goes out ta play, doesn't she?"
"Well yes, that's true," she conceded. Grabbing a small metal pail, she dipped it into the soapy water and began emptying the washtub, spilling the used water onto the ground off of the porch. "But Captain, I can't wait on your schedule to get things done; and besides, I'm not helpless."
"Ah, I know that, dearie! I've seen ye totin' an' fechin' buckets of water, hauling boxes full of books an' such all over the house an' shovin' furniture from starboard ta port an' port ta starboard e'er sin' ye moved in here!"
_ He's worked himself up into a regular monsoon, Isabelle mused _ . "Of course I have! Things need to be done!"
Having emptied the majority of the water from the tub, she grabbed it by the handles and began lifting it. Daniel wrenched it out of her hands, carried it to the edge of the porch and poured out the remainder of the sudsy water. Setting it back on the stand with a weighty thud, he stepped back and resumed his rigid posture.
"That blasted ladder is older than dirt an' has two loose rungs. Ye could ha' fallen an' broken yer pretty little neck," he said accusingly.
"Oh, not so, Captain," she smiled brightly. "I noticed the rungs yesterday when I climbed up to wash the windows on the second floor. I fixed them." Isabelle hid a smirk as she saw his eyes widen in shock over her pure audacity. Lifting her skirt so as not to trip on them, she walked around him, passing through the back door and into the kitchen. He followed on her heels and ran past her to the stove where she was heating a great pot of water.
"NO!" he admonished her, pointing his finger in her wide-eyed face. He turned and lifted the heavy pot of very hot water, carrying it to the back porch. Trailing him back outside, she watched him empty it into the washtub.
Curtsying playfully, she said, "thank you, kind sir." As the tub was under the water pump, she began working the handle up and down, adding cold well water into the steaming tub until it reached a comfortable temperature. Meanwhile, Daniel continued to admonish her to stop taking unnecessary risks, finally appealing to her maternal sense, because "ye wouldn't want to leave the wee lassie an orphan child."
"You're right, of course, Captain. I promise I'll consult you on my next dangerous chore, or hire a man to come in and take care of it." She smiled up at him mischievously, her hands automatically reaching for the sudsy, wrung-out bundles in the laundry basket and plunking them into the warm rinse water. Sighing with feigned longsuffering, she continued, "I suppose I'll have to disappoint Lucy and tell her she can't climb on the roof and sweep the chimney after all."
Daniel's jaw dropped, completely taken aback. "Confound it, woman! I should keelhaul the lot of you!"
Isabelle giggled at him then, and he threw up his hands and vanished from her sight. |
598b05dffa2d4704b6e0f8afe6242d06 | ['b1cf717042704b7d832211a07be70739'] | She’d known there would be damage. That Samaritan and Greer and Martine would leave their mark but…she’d thought she was prepared. The bullet wounds across the right side of Shaw’s chest she’d anticipated, even if they were bigger and angrier than they needed to be; like they’d been fixed carelessly and fast. The needle scars that peppered her arms weren’t entirely unexpected either, Root had her fair share from her short ‘visit’ with Control. The burns and the long angry slashes that criss-crossed her shoulders and stomach, those Root hadn’t prepared for.
“Sameen…” her voice cracked. It was the wrong thing to say.
Shaw’s body slid away from her completely. Shaw refused to meet her eyes. She starred at the ground instead, her fist so tight her knuckles were white. “Stop,” she said icily when Root reached out for her. Root pulled her hand back instantly and watched as Shaw found her shirt on the ground and quickly slipped it back over her head. She pivoted and stormed to the door.
“Please don’t leave,” Root begged, her voice cracking.
If Shaw heard her plea she ignored it, and Root listened as the sound of Shaw’s footsteps faded away completely. Root let out a strangled gasp, fighting not to cry as her legs buckled out from under her and her vision blurred. She leaned her head against the wall as she sat there, curled into a ball, gasping for breath, Shaw’s command echoing in her head.
Sierra. Tango. Oscar. Papa. The first time she heard that, she never should have listened.
///Location: New York
40°35'05.9"N 74°05'15.1"W
2345 EDT
12 May 15///
Shaw stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and watched her breathe condense in the air in front of her. She pressed her head into the brick wall behind her, listening to the distant sound of sirens and the various sounds and echoes of the city. A year ago the calm would have bored her to tears. Truthfully, it still did a little. But months of on and off sensory deprivation made it much easier to appreciate quiet moments like this. The first time she had been out of her cell, a reward for two weeks without an escape attempt, Lambert had laughed at her for stopping to ‘smell the roses’. She’d punched him square in the face and made a run for it. With a broken leg, multiple fractures in her left wrist, and at least four hallucinogenic drugs still in her system she hadn’t made it far, but that still counted as a good day in her book. She smirked at the memory as she watched a car roll up, its headlights shining right into her eyes.
“Did you miss me my dear partner,” Lambert asked theatrically as he suavely slipped out of the driver’s seat.
“No,” Shaw responded darkly. Lambert pouted. The passenger side door opened and Alexi stepped out, adjusting the buttons on his jacket as he did so. Shaw cocked her head in confusion. “What is this?”
Lambert chuckled. “I’m needed elsewhere I’m afraid,” he shrugged.
“Where?”
“DC. With Gabriel. Something or other about the Secretary of State being uncooperative,” Lambert waved his hand dismissively. Shaw nodded slowly, trying not to grit her teeth. “You’re Alexi’s new handler, until my return.”
Shaw stiffened. “I already have a mission,” she reminded Lambert.
“Well now you have another,” Lambert said simply. She nodded once, glad that Lambert couldn’t see her hands balled into fists in her pockets. “The shipment will be arriving tomorrow morning, and Samaritan expects everything to go smoothly,” Lambert looked between the two of them.
“Tomorrow? It wasn’t supposed to be ready for another month,” Shaw frowned, forcing down the sudden tightness in her chest.
“Well, with The Machine out of the picture Samaritan felt we could move up the time table,” Lambert shrugged casually, but the look in his eye told Shaw not to question further. Shaw nodded brusquely.
“I’ll need more firepower and men if I’m going to keep dealing with that…urban legend and the crazy eyed one,” Alexi said suddenly. “If they show up tomorrow…”
Lambert smirked. “They won’t. Sameen has you covered on that front,” he assured Alexi, clapping his hands on Shaw’s back. Shaw grimaced.
“It’s not that easy,” she said slowly.
Lambert raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Enlighten me then,” he said coolly, all mirthe disappearing from his face.
“They aren’t stupid,” Shaw hissed, “They know that the only reason I’m walking around freely is because I’ve been working for you.”
Lamberts grin returned, “Well you’ll just have to be your typical charming self and convince them otherwise.” Shaw rolled her eyes. “Ms. Groves should prove especially easy to convince I would think,” he smirked as her scowl darkened, and he put his hand on her shoulder, “She so wanted to believe you’d come back to her Sameen.” Shaw’s lip curled in disgust. He laughed. “It’s tragic really. Very Shakespearean. Or Vampire Diaries,” Lambert frowned. “I’ve been in the states too long,” he muttered to himself. “Regardless. You’ll keep the…urban legend and the crazy eyed one away from Alexi’s business and act as his liaison to Samaritan,” Lambert shrugged. “No different than Istanbul.” She nodded slowly.
“Right. Just like Istanbul,” Shaw muttered.
“Well, now that everyone’s been briefed, I have a flight to catch,” Lambert headed for his car and Alexi followed silently. “Oh and Sameen, do not allow your…former colleagues to interfere with tomorrows shipment. Samaritan may want that intel but if they prove to be more trouble than they’re worth, well, Greer says two to the head will work just fine too, whether you’ve collected or not,” Lambert let the threat hang in the air between them for a moment before smiling again and slipping back into his car. | f91ebf6662414a9ab5bbddebb95f3a67 | ['b1cf717042704b7d832211a07be70739'] | Claire shook her head. “I don’t know, this is all…new. I’ve barely looked at…Her,” she gestured to the briefcase. “The virus, well, it’s devastating Samaritans DNA, wiping out the rules that govern it, wiping the core of Samaritan away. But everything Samaritan has, its access, the cameras, its power… that could all be salvaged. By loading the machine onto Samaritans infrastructure you could save your machine, rebuild Her right now.”
“She’d become responsible for the implants and stop them from triggering,” Root clarified.
“Potentially,” Claire said slowly, seemingly afraid to give Root or herself false hope.
Root nodded numbly and turned to Harold. “We have to do it Harold,” she said quietly, her voice breaking.
Harold’s eyes widened. “You realize Ms. Groves that this is exactly what The Machine wants. As a matter of fact, this is probably why The Machine chose Miss Shaw for this job,” his voice was raising angrily, “The Machine knew you wouldn’t let harm come to Ms. Shaw, and with this vaccine, if you let her, She’ll gain access to all of Samaritan’s resources.” He glared down at the briefcase. “She is effectively holding Sameen and countless Samaritan agents hostage to get what she wants. More than ever I shudder to think what She would do with an open interface.”
Root swallowed hard and shook her head. The Machine was still giving them a choice. They could let Samaritan die, taking its fanatics with it, and rebuild Her in peace using whatever precautions or specifications Harold wanted or they could rebuild her now, instantly, with more power and less safeguards than ever before. But She was still letting them make that decision. If these were the options than it was only because there were no viable alternatives. But She’d risked Shaw to do it. Shaw who had already sacrificed her life for the team and who had only just come back. And She’d lied to both of them to make it happen.
“I won’t lose Shaw again,” she glared at him. “Maybe you’re right. This is the god you built Harry but-“ she inhaled deeply against the lump in her throat, “I don’t like how She chose to do things,” she admitted, “But this is as close as we’ve gotten to taking out Samaritan. Maybe it was the only way.”
_I-Respect-Your-Choice. Whatever-It-May-Be._
Harold’s lip curled. “Yes, I imagine you would now that you’ve strong armed us,” he murmured.
Claire shifted uncomfortably. “If you want to use the vaccine we need to get going. It won’t be long now until Samaritan is gone.”
Blinking rapidly Harold spun around to Claire. “Remotely hacking Samaritan…we would have to be quite close for that to work, wouldn’t we Ms. Mahoney?”
“Yes,” Claire nodded. “Samaritan headquarters is right through that window,” she gestured behind her, to the building across the street.
“When you said you built this under Samaritans nose you really weren’t kidding,” Reese raised an eyebrow, almost smiling.
Harold pursed his lips. “Perhaps…there is a third option,” he said cautiously.
“We don’t have time for a debate if we want to save Shaw,” Root said, gritting her teeth.
Harold nodded and held up a hand to try and ease her. “We are mere feet away from Samaritan’s brain Ms. Groves. I can’t access that data remotely, but if I was on-sight…I could lock Samaritans existing infrastructure much like The Machine is currently.”
Root frowned. “So, She’d be able to communicate-“
“But she would still rely on human agents for action, unlike Samaritan. There would be no rigged elections, no assassinations, no Maple,” he nodded. “She would not retain the ability to interfere at that level,” he paused, staring at her intently. “And I hope, after this, you can see why that might be for the best,” he added, trying to be gentle.
She winced but nodded. Maybe this was the only way forward, but that She could be so reckless, could so casually throw away Sameen’s life…she bit her lip. They could debate the morality of the choice later, once Shaw was safe. “Can you modify the code fast enough?” she asked.
He nodded crisply. “I believe so.” He looked around the room nervously. “So we’re in agreement? We’re going into Samaritan’s headquarters?”
Reese nodded.
“If there’s a chance I don’t have to die for this…I’ll help however I can,” Claire promised.
“I have no idea what any of you are talking about, but if you need me, I’m there,” Fusco promised. Reese put a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re already injured and you have a son Lionel,” Reese said coolly.
Fusco glared at him. “I’m still a cop Wonderboy.”
Reese smiled, “A good one, I know. But you need to sit this one out,” he added, putting his hand on his partners shoulder.
Fusco glared at him silently before nodding once in resignation. “You get her out of there this time, you hear?”
“We won’t leave her again,” Reese promised, nodding to Root solemnly as he said it.
The Machine beeped frantically.
_> Odds-Of-Survival: Analogue-Interface-2.0002% _
_> Odds-Of-Survival: Admin-1.0009%_
_> Odds-Of-Survival: Primary_Asset-John_Reese-4.005%_
_> Odds-Of-Survival: Claire_Mahoney-1.000001%_
_> Odds-Of-Survival: Primary_Asset-Sameen_Shaw-0.0000000001%_
Root’s eyes skimmed over the statistics, feeling her heart skip at Shaw’s chances.
“Well,” Harold said dryly, “At least we know.”
“Better than my odds now,” Claire added.
_Option-Not-Viable._ The Machine whirred, sounding almost frantic.
“We can’t wait any longer,” Root said coldly.
“Agreed,” Harold sighed.
“Good thing we stocked up before we got here,” Reese added with a smirk, throwing the duffle bag he had brought in onto the counter. “Grab whatever you need,” he said to Claire. She nodded nervously and pulled out a rifle and hand gun. She tucked the handgun into the waistband of her jeans. |
cf1d9faa302046a196417af3bf1d9e2f | ['b1da740bd4584e308aad82120cb1a384'] | There was nothing to bury, but there had been a large, anonymous donation made to cover funeral costs for both Callaghan and Tadashi. So, only a week after the fire, a small group had gathered at Sunset View Cemetery, dressed somberly. Hiro wore a suit for the second time in his life, the same that Tadashi had worn to a funeral on this same forested hill, a decade before. The little non-denominational chapel set aside for services when weather was bad slowly filled as music played—soft organ music. Hymns, probably.
There were words printed on the program, but Hiro didn’t look at them, instead closing his eyes and trying not to remember the last image of Tadashi running into an inferno, white hot flames exploding outward. As the others around sang along, or tried to through tears, Hiro remained silent. They were words of comfort, of calming, of hope. _What’s the point of them? Tadashi’s gone, and nothing can just make that better._ He hugged himself tightly. Aunt Cass put an arm around him, a silent comfort. Hiro did not pull away.
One of the school professors spoke first, praising Tadashi’s commitment and courage, his willingness to help others with classwork, his determination to excel. Aunt Cass went next, and her voice cracked as she related memory after memory. She motioned for Hiro to join her, but he stayed seated. He didn’t want to be the center of attention, not now, maybe never again. Anything memories he had, stories to tell, final words to say, those were between him and his brother, not for these people he hardly knew.
Wasabi and Honey Lemon spoke briefly, their voices dulled by sorrow. Faced with the empty coffin, the photograph placed on top, Honey Lemon had felt her throat close up with unshed tears, and had finally sat down, her note card crumpled in her hand, useless. Wasabi smiled faintly as he spoke of how accepting Tadashi had been, never treating anyone like an outsider. Go Go’s words were short and simple, and she did not look up as she said them— _Tadashi Hamada was our best friend_. Fred was last to go, and from his suit pocket he pulled out a sheet of paper.
“Tennyson said it better than anyone,” Fred explained, “he wrote this poem for his best friend, who,” he stopped short. Even standing next to a casket, the word ‘died’ felt like closing a door, like the ending of the world. “Who died. So…yeah.” He cleared his throat.
“I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given outline and no more.”
After a closing song, the tune mournful and slow, most of the students and professors departed, leaving the two remaining Hamadas and the “nerd lab” gang to watch as the coffin, now filled with scraps of paper with memories scrawled out on them and photos, was laid to rest. The tombstone was a perfect match for the simple slab beside it, grey stone with bold black script. The only differences were the inscriptions. Where one read “Mina Hamada, 1981-2015 and Tomeo Hamada, 1979-2015,” this one bore Tadashi’s name. As the fog turned to rain, Aunt Cass turned her face to the sky, and allowed herself a different hope; that no matter what there was after death, it was some place where families would be reunited. It did not ease the ache in her chest.
As soon as the first shovelful of dirt was heaved into the grave, Hiro turned, and fled down the path towards the parking lot. Aunt Cass followed, quickly outpaced by Tadashi’s friends.
* * *
There was a second small gathering in the apartment above the café, customers, neighbors, and school friends. Hiro did not join in, unwilling to be around others. He couldn’t explain that it hurt too much, that he didn’t want to listen to the same words of comfort over and over and over. “He’s in a better place”, as if there was a better place for a brother than here. “This too shall pass”, as if it was something trivial and temporary. “He’ll always be with you,” as if no one understood that Tadashi was gone, lost, dead. No more jokes and adventures, no more prank wars and whispered conversations at three am. Memories couldn’t watch movies with you, or plan new tech with you, or hug you.
Aunt Cass held the cup of tea Honey Lemon had brought her, hot and strong. The crowd had thinned, though a few still remained, cleaning or putting food in the fridge. One woman, hovering near the door, finally approached her, and Aunt Cass braced herself for more words of sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman, her eyes underscored with dark circles as if she hadn’t slept in a week. Looking at her, Aunt Cass saw that she was young, Tadashi’s age, maybe.
Aunt Cass inclined her head, sick to death of _I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry for your pain, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry._
“It was my fault,” the girl said, her words a jumble, her voice tight. “He asked if anyone was trapped and I told him—it just came out, I—I didn’t know. That he’d run in. I didn’t—I never thought—but—It’s my fault, and I’m sorry I came, but I—I…” | 6171bb2e7d3945edb3d4aa9e42aa94cc | ['b1da740bd4584e308aad82120cb1a384'] | He wasn’t certain why he had not been aware of one of the cell blocks on the lowest level, deep in the earth until then, but he found it almost by happenstance, drawn to the thin red light. As he approached, wondering what creature was so dangerous that it would be kept here, what crime it might have committed, he saw a small figure trembling in the corner.
He may have worn a human skin, too close and itching to be shrugged off. He may have pressed down the use of his powers, for fear of become dependent upon them. But he did not need anything beyond human eyes to see the small form flinch, to hear whimpering ( _Ieiu, Ieiu_ ) in a language he was certain he had heard before, but could not place.
He left just as quickly, his stomach acids protesting what his mind translated. It was a child. The prisoner in the cell was a tiny child, pale and thin. He had not needed to read her mind or understand her words to know she had been terrified. _K'hym. T'ania._ The memory of the last time he had seen his daughters seared like flame in his mind. Was some parent out there wondering for the fate of their own child? Had his children huddled, alone and terrified in a dark prison cell?
He wanted to vomit, and so he ran, slowing only to a halt when he reached the upper levels and the risk of being seen.
What crime could that pathetic creature have committed to be left in almost total darkness? What if she was like himself? Not one who had chosen this planet in malice but in desperation, alone and frightened, with no Jeremiah Danvers to chose her life over his?
“Sir? Director Henshaw?” a young woman asked, voice clipped. An intern, of sorts, the lowest ranking of the already highly ranked officials and agents permitted to work here. “Are you well?”
“I am fine,” he told her firmly. “I need to check our records for any discrepancies. There’s another audit coming up.”
She winced. That meant budget reviews, an endless stream of meetings if not everything was perfectly documented. “Of course, Sir. Understood.”
He waited until she had scurried off, no doubt to let everyone know to be careful with their paperwork, before sinking into his chair and digging deeper into the files.
And there it was, plain text. **Project KR Eclipse.**
A Kryptonian pod had been found, only miles from the crash site of Fort Rozz, with a lone occupant. Unlike the being that had been labeled the ‘Man of Steel’ by Metropolis’s reporters, this one did not seem to possess that same invulnerability, or strength. Notes from Director Henshaw, the real Director, whose face J’onn now twisted in revulsion, filled the screen, conclusions drawn from what files had be salvaged from Fort Rozz and from tests they had run on the child. Blood tests, brain scans, pages of lists that dated even during the time Henshaw had been dead.
Nowhere did it list a crime committed, and the mugshot showed only a pale face, dirt marks on her cheeks, dishwater hair mussed and tangled.
J’onn closed the files, closed his eyes, and cursed inwardly. He could not compromise his cover. He could not show kindness or weakness (or the weakness that was kindness in the eyes of humans) without risking being discovered. Then what would be his fate, to die on a steel lab table or languish for centuries in a dark cell until he forgot even his own name? His oath–.
He had abandoned platitudes like “everything happens for a reason” when the White Martians had torn his beloved from his arms. Now he wondered, if this was the reason he had been spared the fate of his people, if this was why the old Director himself had been the one to confront him, if this was why he still breathed when Jeremiah did not. Was this how he was meant to pay forward his debt, a life for a life, one refugee to another?
He had lived more than 300 years, his family was dead.
He took his coat from the hook, and started for the exit.
* * *
J’onn knocked on the door of the large house, feeling awkward standing on the white-painted porch without his uniform on. As much as he loathed wearing it, being Hank Henshaw with all his weapons, it was a measure of safety. Security. But he stood on the porch in civilian khakis and waited for the door to open.
The blonde woman, whiter than she had seemed in the photograph on file, looked at him, the exasperated smile folding into a tight frown, fear and anger lining the creases around her eyes. She paused, as if trying to find words. He spoke first.
“Mrs. Danvers. May I come in?”
“Doctor,” she corrected as if out of habit, and then realized. “You–No. Get out, get away, leave us alone.”
“Dr. Danvers,” he said, formally, no emotion slipping through to the mask he wore. “It’s urgent. I need to speak with you.”
She shook her head, moving to close the door. He stopped her, but only because desperation demanded it.
“It’s about your husband.” It was, in a roundabout kind of way.
“ You got my husband killed.” She did not stumble or stutter over the word. J’onn nodded, solemn.
“This is not a conversation for your porch and neighbors to hear, Dr. Danvers,” he said, though there were no neighbors near enough to hear or watch the confrontation.
She opened the door wider. “Come in, then.”
As soon as the door was closed, J’onn closed his eyes. He could not back out now. He needed this woman.
“Your husband was not the only expert on Kryptonians, was he, Dr. Danvers?” |
7b117c95fefc4a2c9cb5e47c5becf326 | ['b1dc6bee90e34d14b39afd09d2628c81'] |
Heart and Soul
“Chica?”
There was no answering jingle, and Mark looked up from his computer. She had been right here, napping under his desk. A look around the room, confirming—Mark was alone, the setting sun casting orange light into an empty office. The others had gone home hours ago, Amy with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle admonishment to not work too late.
He ran a hand over his face, taking a last look at the glare on the computer screen. Amy was right, as she always was, and he needed to call it a night. There were other things to do than to sit at his desk, eyeballs-deep in editing. Friends to see, jokes to tell, dogs to pet.
But to do that, he had to find Chica.
“Chiiiiiiiiiica?” Mark pushed himself up, only now realizing that it was getting dark, only now feeling the stiffness in his legs. “We gotta go, bub, Mom’s waiting for us at home.”
Still nothing, and a horrible sinking feeling in Mark’s gut. It was only him and the Egos in the office, but they were behind their door. They had promised to leave him alone this week. They shouldn’t have even known that he was here.
It was against his better judgement, but Mark started for the door that separated his office—the physical one, anyway—from the Egos’ office. He’d never felt comfortable being alone with them, and for a moment, he considered calling someone. Anyone. Anything to make sure that he didn’t have to do this alone.
The notion was gone in a moment. The door between dimensions was cracked open, just wide enough for a curious golden retriever to squeeze through, and Mark stopped just short of calling Chica’s name again. She was in _there._ With _them._
He couldn’t possibly have been more afraid, and even in his head, that sounded ridiculous. They were just figments, just ideas with too much power. _They had already hurt him. They would hurt Chica._
The door opened slowly, rippling with the weight of dimensions unknown, and Mark stepped through. He looked left, then right, then left again.
It was too quiet.
From upstairs, Mark could hear the stomping of feet, muffled conversation. Their rooms. If they were up there, Chica probably was, too.
He started up the stairs with a hand on the banister, trying and failing not to look around. This side of the office was constructed out of magic, hidden in a pocket dimension. The wood of the banister felt real enough, solid, and if it weren’t for the slight warping of the walls, Mark could have pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary.
He reached the top of the stairs with a deep breath, not yet ready to face the Egos, his ambitions, his fears. They were uncomfortably intimate, and all of them knew too much about him. They were the heart and soul of the channel, hidden from videos the way their half of the office was hidden from the world. Mark swallowed his fears, hiding, if not digesting them. They could wait behind the façade of a building, his heart and soul hidden behind a smile.
A bark from down the corridor, behind a closed door, and Mark decided that it wasn’t time to wax philosophical. “Chica?”
Whining, just out of sight, and Mark found himself sprinting. The room full of figments, laughing and relaxing, was already behind him, and they heard nothing. The next door rattled, desperate paws on the other side, and Mark braced himself for all of a moment before throwing it open.
“Took you long enough, Wil—”
“Chica?”
“Mark?”
_“Dark?”_
“Boof!”
Chica wagged her tail happily, dancing around Mark. She barked again, nails skittering on the floor, pacing the room. Mark bent to put a hand on her collar, but Chica nudged him farther into the room, anxious.
“You’re not Wilford,” Dark muttered, and Mark froze.
“Hi… Dark.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was… working,” Mark stuttered, backing up, looking around for the first time. He was in Dark’s room. _He was in Dark’s bedroom._ “I—uh, Chica—” He didn’t finish the sentence, eyes finally adjusting to the gloom. Dark’s aura cast the room in an unnatural shadow, smoke curling at every corner. Dark himself was—in bed?
“I’m aware.” Dark looked over at him and Chica, teeth bared, an unfamiliar tiredness in his eyes. It was a familiar expression on Mark’s face, but never Dark’s. “Get out,” he said, without any trace of venom.
“I, uh.” Chica butted at the back of his knees, forcing Mark forward. “Are, uh, are you okay?”
Dark’s head turned slowly, dangerously. “What,” he spat, “do you care, all of a sudden?”
Mark took a step back, despite Chica at his heels. “Of course I—”
“The least you can do is not lie to me,” Dark snarled, and even Chica backed up with her tail between her legs.
“Dark—”
“Shut up.” Dark struggled to sit up, blankets sliding off him. He was still wearing his suit, as ever, but it was crumpled, his hair disheveled. His aura curled around him, the smoke flickering at his shoulders, and started to solidify.
Chica huddled behind Mark’s legs as Dark’s aura collected itself, heavy limbs and glowing eyes, seated at Dark’s side. Dark leaned against her shoulder, staggering, but she only blinked, slow, staring between Mark and Chica with thinly veiled anger.
“Hello,” Mark said, hesitant. It seemed rude, suddenly, not to greet her. Chica took a step forward, sniffing, but Dark’s aura bared her teeth, and Chica skittered back.
“You see what you’ve done?” Dark growled, upright, his eyes meeting Mark’s.
“Dark, I don’t—”
“You do.” Dark raised his head, and Mark saw, for the first time, the crooked neck, the pained smile. Dark’s mask, his shell, his masquerade, fell, and the corpse behind it challenged Mark, eye to eye. | f11e33fa6d28458f87bcd57ee7c333d3 | ['b1dc6bee90e34d14b39afd09d2628c81'] | Google_B sighed and took two of the three platters, leaving Wilford to balance the last platter in one hand and an array of toppings in the other. Together, they started for the dining room, where Wilford had eagerly gathered the other Egos and Mark, Tyler, Ethan, Amy, and Kathryn for what he termed as a 'special surprise." (Outside, the betting pool had risen to $70 in favor of Wilford murdering one of them, as opposed to forcing them all on camera. Dark, throwing an extra few dollars in, bet that it was "some stupid culinary concoction that will either kill us or make us wish we were dead.")
Google_B heard the problem before it happened. After each of Wilford's steps came the slight click of plastic on linoleum. Looking under the platters he held, Google_B opened his mouth too late to warn Wilford that his laces were untied.
With an almighty crash, Wilford landed face-first into his platter of tacos, the bowl of sour cream landing upside down on his back. The rest of the condiments splattered everywhere and Google_B, jumping back, barely managed to keep his own platter level.
"Is-- is everything okay?" Bim called from the dining room, sounding worried.
"Everything is fine," Google_B said, voice shaking with the strain of not laughing. "D-don't come in, though."
He could hear Dark chuckle through the door, and resisted the urge to open it. Wilford's fall was recorded to his databank, of course, and would be mass texted to the Egos later. For now, they had a Taco Thursday to save.
Wilford got up gingerly, crumbs of taco shell and an ungodly amount of fillings covering his chest. The sour cream on his back slid down, slowly, to land on the floor with a sad plop. Google_B, for once, was glad he was a robot that could control the urge to laugh uncontrollably.
"We still have enough tacos," Google_B assured him, anticipating a stabbing spree, "just clean up, and--"
Wilford clapped his hands together, looking annoyed rather than angry. The mess disappeared from the kitchen, leaving his hands empty. Google_B huffed. Whatever powers the other Egos had, they defied known technology and logic, and of all things, it was irrationality he hated the most.
"Tie your shoe," he said, looking away from the now-spotless kitchen floor as though it was a personal affront.
See, this was why he hated Wilford's magic. He'd cleaned the kitchen with a clap of his hands, turning a twenty-minute endeavor into seconds. But now, Wilford bent to tie his shoelaces himself.
Google_B beeped in annoyance, shifting the two platters in his arms.
Taking the cue, for once, Wilford tied a knot and sprang up, seizing one of the trays, and waltzed out into the dining room. Google_B noticed that he hadn't tied a bow-- just a chaotic series of knots.
"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, robots-- to Taco Thursday!"
There was a collective groan, followed by the rustling of bills and Dark's distinctive chuckle. Hiding a smile, Google_B followed Wilford outside.
\-----------------------------------------
Dark, surprisingly, was the last one in the conference room. He stumbled in two minutes after 8am, the dregs of the Doctor's morning coffee clutched like a lifeline in his hand. His aura was painfully loud, filling the room with ringing and waves of hatred.
"Hey, Mark," Wilford managed to joke as Dark took his seat, hair mussed on the wrong side of his head. Dark only glared, raking his fingers through his hair to fix it. He took a sip of his coffee, and his aura slowly dissipated.
"Well," Wilford began, flipping his butterfly knife open as a pointer, "now that everyone's here, we can start this week's meeting. As it's the end of the week, we should--"
"Does anyone have anything of interest?" Dark rasped, interrupting. The room looked towards him, then back at Wilford, who was struggling to stay calm.
"We have a schedule," Wilford snapped, meeting his eye.
"Yes? Well, I have an agenda, Will," Dark sneered over his coffee, shoulders tensing. "And weekly check-ins with the drama queen of micromanagement are not included."
"Excuse me?" Wilford's fingers twitched on the handle of his knife.
Dark sat back, draining the last of his coffee, and growled, "this is a waste of time."
"A waste of time is this conversation, Darky boy."
The rest of the table followed the dialogue, heads whipping back and forth like a tennis match.
Dark stood up, aura at full strength. The Host covered his ears. "Have fun with your bassinet of screaming children, Wilford." He turned to stalk out of the room, the Egos between him and the door ducking their heads in trepidation.
Two feet from the door, Dark tripped over his own laces.
Every Ego turned at the muffled thump of Dark hitting the carpet, every Ego terrified to speak.
The Host giggled, the only sound in the room.
Dark, gray skin abnormally flushed, stood back up, his aura suddenly silent. The Host still smiled, and in the tension, Oliver snorted.
The room howled with laughter as Dark left in a flurry of smoke, door slamming behind him. Wilford and Bim, the only sober faces at the table, exchanged a knowing glance.
Later that day, Bim would tentatively knock on Dark's door, holding his shoes in his hand. Dark would throw open the door with a sneer that would normally make even Mark back away, but Bim responds with a determined, if shaky, smile.
"Do you want me to show you how to do bunny ears?" |
de247cf04e524cb1b4e6d1c21d0c4f3c | ['b1e4160ac1ff49c58862f1c8c7189158'] | “I no longer desire to see you tonight,” Montparnasse hissed, his face hard and bitter. “You can find your own way back to your flat, and think about what you did to deserve this.” He grabbed Grantaire’s throat and squeezed so hard that the cynic was sure bruises would appear. “Do something like this again and I’ll make sure you can’t move for a week. Now get out of my sight.”
Grantaire nodded and wiped his eyes, then pulled the shirt over his head, sobbing again when the movement disturbed the wounds on his back and the fabric irritated the fresh wounds. He breathed heavily and willed his head to stop spinning as he turned away from his boyfriend and headed towards the door, only stopping when Montparnasse yelled, “Oh, Grantaire? Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you.”
Grantaire scarcely made it back to his flat before blacking out for the second time that day.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Uploading this so soon after the last chapter due to the wonderful feedback! I'm so glad you're all enjoying it! I'm sure everyone saw this coming, right? I hope I at least took one person by surprise.
>
> Chapter title is from Newsies.
3. There's Change Coming Once and For All
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Enjolras confronts Grantaire.
The next morning Grantaire could barely breathe, he was in so much pain, but he forced himself into the small bathroom he shared with Jehan so that he could assess the damage. As usual, his face was fine; Montparnasse was too smart to hit him in the face, where he couldn’t hide the damage (on the odd occasion that he had given Grantaire a black eye or a split lip, he was banned from leaving Montparnasse’s apartment until it was gone.) There were ghosts of bruises on his neck from where Grantaire had gripped him, but they’d be gone within a couple of days and he could hide them until then.
The bruises on his ribs were worse than they had been the day before, but Grantaire was hardly unused to seeing the discolouration of his ribs. What he was really concerned with was the state of his back; his shirt had been encrusted with blood, and it had been painful to pull it away from his skin. He couldn’t see the full scale of the damage, but what he could see was worse than anything he had ever received in the past; his back was a mixture of cuts, bruises and welts. They’d scar for sure, but Grantaire was more concerned with the pain. He wouldn’t be able to sleep on his back for a week.
Grantaire showered slowly, whimpering when the water stung at his beaten skin. He climbed out of the shower and let the air dry his skin; he doubted he’d be able to tolerate rubbing a towel over the wounds. He dressed mechanically, donning a clean pair of boxers and a baggy pair of sweatpants but forgoing a shirt; Jehan wouldn’t be home for hours, and while he could keep his back uncovered, he would, just so he could spare himself a little pain. He laid down on his bed, his face pressed into the mattress, and fell back asleep for a while, until an insistent knocking pulled him out of his slumber. Grudgingly, he pushed himself up and off of his bed and tugged a light cotton shirt over his head, then shuffled down the hallway to the front door.
He opened the door, and before he could even see the person stood behind it, heard, “what the hell did he do to you?!”
Grantaire considered slamming the door shut immediately, but he knew that Enjolras wouldn’t go anywhere if he did. It was too dangerous for him to be around the blond, but he couldn’t exactly escape from him at his own apartment. He stared at his friend for a moment, his expression bland, until Enjolras stormed past him and stood in the centre of the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly waiting for an answer. Grantaire closed the door quietly and shrugged, wincing as a consequence, “I broke the rules.”
“Rules?” Enjolras repeated, an incredulous tone to his voice that caused Grantaire to shrink away in fear; whenever Montparnasse yelled at him, it was always followed by a blow—he knew that Enjolras would never hit him, but the fear was there anyway.
The cynic’s hand tightened around the door handle, his fingers turning white; he had to make Enjolras leave. Montparnasse would find out that he had been there, and then he’d use the belt again and Grantaire knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle any more pain. He looked down at the ground and in a quiet voice said, “You can’t be here, Enjolras. Please, I need you to go.” | 7b30a3bf2c414b208577cffb11756d3b | ['b1e4160ac1ff49c58862f1c8c7189158'] | “Of course, I forgot.” You said, smiling slightly. “I haven’t chopped your legs off yet.”
You chuckled at your joke, then stopped when I ignored you. Standing up was hard, I hadn’t done it for days and my feet were all torn up. I made myself take a step, which sent a jolt of pain up my leg. I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth against the pain; if I ever wanted to get home, I’d have to get out of that room. I was desperately weak as I walked out of that room, the world spinning, ready to pass out at any moment. I realised I had been stupid to reject the food you offered me; I needed to be strong if I wanted to get out of here.
You led me though the living room, and out onto a porch where there was an old, dusty looking couch. I collapsed onto it, too exhausted to take another step, despite the fact that I hadn’t gotten out of the bed for three days. You looked down at me sadly, “you can’t go on like this. Let me get you something to eat. Please.”
I nodded, because if I were going to survive you, then I knew that I had to be smart about how things went. You smiled as if you had won some great battle, and walked back into the house, confident that I wasn’t in any shape to go anywhere, and I suppose you were right. I didn’t even try, although I had perfect opportunity to. Instead I looked out at the land. There were boulders scattered around a little way away, behind them trees grew, but not the kind of trees you’d see in Paris. They were thin and spiky and I couldn’t help but think that they were hideous.
My eyes searched for pathways around the boulders, anything that might help me get out of here, but the only thing man made was a black plastic pipe that led up to the house. There were wooden posts spaced evenly around the base of the rocks as if there had been a fence there in the past.
“What’s on the other side?” I asked you when you came back with something to eat.
“Nothing much, just more of this.” You gave me the plate then gestured at the ground and sat next to me on the couch. “It’s not your escape route, if that what you’re hoping it is. Your only way of escaping is through me and that’s bad luck for you, I guess, since I’ve already made my escape by coming here.”
I ignored you. Even if it were my way out, you wouldn’t tell me. Instead I asked, “why didn’t I see them before, when I tried to run?”
“You weren’t looking.” You said simply and shrugged. “You were too upset to see anything much then.”
“Where are we?” I asked again, hoping for a real answer this time.
“Everywhere and nowhere.” You looked at me intensely. “This place belongs to my family, I guess. I didn’t know about it until I was your age though. My uncle lived out here, not that any of us ever knew where he as. We lived in Paris, and he’d come to visit us every so often. My parents were like yours. Rich and corrupt. My uncle always said he wanted to rescue me from them, so he left me this place when he died. I came out here for a few weeks when I was nineteen, and then when I got home, everything was different.”
I turned away and picked at the food you gave me. I didn’t want to know anything about you or your life. After I finished eating, I set the plate aside and wrapped my arms around my legs, cradling my knees, gripping them too tightly to my chest, “why am I here?”
“Because this place is beautiful, and you’re beautiful. Beautifully separate. You fit here.”
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice foreign.
“Company,” you smiled so innocently that I almost believed you. Almost.
“How long are you going to keep me?”
You shrugged and looked out to the desert again, “forever, I suppose.”
So you had no intention of ever letting me go home. Had you even asked for a ransom, did you even want one? “My parents have money, if that’s what you want. They’ll give you whatever you want if you just let me go home. They won’t even turn you over to the police, they’ll just give you the money if you let me go home to them.”
You looked offended, as if I had said the worst possible thing to you, “How could you think that? You think that I brought you here because I want money from your parents? I don’t want anything from them, especially not money. I don’t want money that your father earned through the corruption of the government.”
Your voice became so stern and harsh that I didn’t say anything to you. I couldn’t understand why I was there if it wasn’t so that you could get money. What else could you want? Fresh fear began to course through me; I had heard stories of people kidnapping young girls and boys to keep them as sex slaves, is that what you wanted? I had already learned from experience that I couldn’t fight you off.
We sat there in silence for some time, my thoughts whirling through the possibilities of what you wanted from me. None of them were good. Eventually you turned to me and said, “come on, I’ll show you around the house.” |
24d600c663544e2b8c82ccb77e938f2b | ['b1f5e63e831642e98013f71529cec8f4'] |
Autonomic Universal Neural Translator (AUNT)
_The following is found in an Asari diplomat team’s “First Contact Protocol and Diplomacy: Materials for Reference and Distribution” data packets. This version is intended for: [human] [Earth native] [English speaking]_
* * *
**What is an AUNT?**
An AUNT, or Autonomic Universal Neural Translator, is a marvel of modern technology originally developed after first contact between the Asari Republics and Salarian Union circa 520 BCE, and it has only been improved on since. An AUNT provides seamless and accurate translation of any known language or dialect without the inconveniences of outdated earpiece translators.
**How does an AUNT work?**
The AUNT is a small, bio-compatible data processor that is connected to your brain’s neural network through a minimally invasive procedure. By accessing and augmenting your brain’s language centers, the AUNT is, effectively, to the brain what a software update is for a computer.
The AUNT receives sensory (aural, visual, tactile, etc.) information and compares that to its comprehensive database of languages and dialects. This allows the AUNT to identify the language and decode raw sensory information into words and phrases. Then, the AUNT sends out impulses to the user’s existing neural network to stimulate a thought pattern closest to the word’s meaning. In this way, the AUNT does not translate one language to another—it is able to imbue its user with _understanding_ of any given language.
**Why is the AUNT better than an earpiece translator?**
There are many advantages to using an AUNT over other types of translators. An earpiece translator, or any translation technology that translates one language to another, is always subject to some error. No two languages are always going to have 1:1 translations, and that rule proves even more true across interstellar cultural boundaries. The AUNT, however, translates language into _thought_ , not into another language. As long as the user understands the _idea_ behind a word, the AUNT can do its job, even if the user’s native language doesn’t have a word for that idea. By translating using neural pathways, the AUNT can also account for words that have multiple meanings—finally, a way to reliably translate puns! The AUNT is also adaptable. By analyzing biofeedback it is able to recognize when a translation is incorrect, and adjust to recognize what factors caused the mistake, such as context, tone, and who is speaking. This process mimics natural language learning techniques and ensures the same mistranslation doesn’t happen twice.
**Are there any drawbacks to using the AUNT over an earpiece translator?**
While the AUNT offers many substantial improvements over traditional translation technology, it does have a few unique quirks that require some acclimation.
_Biological Barriers_
While the AUNT is able to gather data from your sensory organs, it unfortunately cannot augment them. The one significant limitation of the AUNT is that it cannot translate sensory information that its user cannot perceive. This is a problem that crops up most frequently in inter-species communication, though many species have found ways to compensate. When interacting with other species, many Elcor use vocalizations rather than olfactory communication, and Hanar limit their bioluminescence to a lower frequency spectrum. On the other side, a person wishing to expand the amount of sensory input they receive can do so via Council-approved cybernetic surgeries or specialized omni-tool hardware combined with VI programming.
_Cognitive Dissonance_
Some users of the AUNT experience a phenomenon called “cognitive dissonance,” usually characterized by trouble focusing and mild headaches. This is caused because the AUNT, by design, does not repress natural brain function, only supplements it. Because of this, when experiencing the sensory input of an unknown language, that input is being interpreted twice—by both your brain and your AUNT. Thus, your brain simultaneously recognizes that input as unintelligible _and_ as a fluently understood language. Most of the time, the brain naturally “tunes out” the undesired interpretation and no problems occur. In some situations, however, it becomes more difficult to focus on only one interpretation, causing “cognitive dissonance.” The good news is that cognitive dissonance, and its associated symptoms, are entirely avoidable. Extensive study and research has concluded that the phenomenon occurs almost exclusively when the AUNT is translating a language based in a type of sensory input other than the individual’s learned “default” language input. To further clarify, many humans learn to _speak_ their first language far before they learn to read it, making the learned default input aural. Therefore, a human listening to a new language (aural input) would have a near-zero chance of experiencing cognitive dissonance, but may experience cognitive dissonance while reading (visual input) that language. In contrast, a human whose first language is a sign language would have a visual learned default input. They would likely experience no problems processing a new language via visual input, but may if the input is changed to aural.
The treatment most recommended to those having trouble with cognitive dissonance is to, whenever possible, experience language in the preferred input—visual, aural, or otherwise. This is usually achieved with relative ease thanks to the accessibility of omni-tool speech/text programs and personal VIs. Interestingly, a user who is multilingual is significantly less likely to experience the symptoms of cognitive dissonance, so the symptoms may diminish over time the user is exposed to more languages.
**I heard a word I don’t understand. Did my AUNT glitch?** | c9294dbe1ff34b59aa752e464da27fa9 | ['b1f5e63e831642e98013f71529cec8f4'] | She searches for Cullen with her thoughts first before she thinks to use her eyes. She finds Varric instead.
“Where’s Hawke?”
She’s never heard his voice crack before.
Her throat is too dry to speak, and she swallows hard. “She told me to tell you goodbye.”
It’s strange, seeing the expressions on his face without feeling the emotions behind them. He turns from her and pushes his way out of the cheering crowd. She watches him until he’s gone from her sight. She feels scooped out, hollow.
She climbs the battered stone steps, part of her marveling at their solid feel beneath her feet, up to where Clarel had spoken to her Wardens before. She must speak to them. She must be their leader. She must be their Inquisitor.
* * *
After she speaks to her soldiers, after she is passed from person to person to be hugged, to have her hands shaken, to accept teary thanks, on occasion from someone who has fallen to their knees, Cullen finally finds her. He gathers her into his arms without a word, planting relieved kisses on the top of her head with no thought to the soldiers around them.
Sobs she has been holding in finally break free, and her knees nearly give out from exhaustion as she wraps her arms around him and holds on for all she’s worth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I made you worry, I’m sorry I couldn’t save all of them, I’m so sorry--”
“Hush,” he says gently, rubbing slow circles into her back. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. We won today. You dealt a huge blow to Corypheus, and--” His voice breaks slightly. “And you came back.” He takes a deep breath and holds her tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I lost your coin.”
“I--what?”
“The coin you gave me, I lost it in the Fade. I’m so sorry, I know how much it meant to you and--why in the world are you laughing?”
He can’t answer at first, shoulders shaking, trying to stifle his laughs and failing.
“Cullen!”
He lets out a last chuckle before taking her face in his hands, his eyes warm and light. “You battle an army of demons, not to mention a blighted dragon, fall physically into the Fade, barely make it back alive, and you think I’m worried about a blasted coin?” He kisses her once on her lips and again on her forehead. “Maker’s breath, love, is that really where you think my priorities are?”
She lets out a surprised laugh, and it feels like she hasn’t smiled in years. She wraps her arms around him once more and thinks that her fears can rest, just for now. For now, in the arms of the human she loves, she has no titles, and she is enough. |
137b117fd5da4734afb0b9f7696b2c7c | ['b1f9158ac1414932b94ce9426d888246'] | Lena Luthor was comfortably nestled into the couch with a cup of tea and a book that she had meaning to finish for the last month. Her graduate program had been overly demanding lately, and despite all her hard efforts, Lena still felt like she was slowly falling behind the other students in her class. Her weeks consisted of classes, late nights, and as much caffeine Lena could stomach; it left her little room for sleep and fewer nights off.
She'd also been spending more and more of her spare time at Luthor Corp, her mother's subtle way of weaving her into the family business was working beautifully. The more Lena fought it, the easier it was for her mother to ensnare her with family obligations and fantasies for a better future. In the last year, she had started to meet with their shareholders, getting her face and name out there, she also attended several business meetings with her mother.
Lena was the official heir of the family business; her brother no longer in the picture. He had gone too far on his escapade to be like Superman, and in the end, it was his undoing. Lena never told him that Kara was not only Kryptonian but also the related to Metropolis' famous hero.
And she never planned to.
She didn't want him anywhere near her.
The TV played quietly in the background, in the last few months that she and Kara had lived together Lena had become very acquainted with Kara forgetting to turn it off. Most of the time she'd let it run, ignoring it and only ever turning it down when the volume got too loud.
Looking up from her book, the commentator's voice came into focus as she watched the footage of a plane floating in the ocean, _"Passengers of flight 237 seem to have a guardian angel, when what many reports to be a female flying form rescued them from certain death."_
Lena's heart clenched, unsteadiness overwhelming her. Kara's name was on her lips as she saw the female figure straightening up on the plane wing. Lena spun around when she heard a light tapping on the living room window. Her fears confirmed as she caught sight of a wet Kara hovering outside the window.
Lena ran over, gently prying open the old window panes, her eyes instinctually scanning over every inch of the Kryptonian. Kara looked to be fine other than being soaked to the bone.
"Your mothers' are going to kill you." Lena said, before gently grabbing Kara's wrist and pulling the stumbling hero into a hug, "Are you okay?"
Kara tightened her grip, shaking her head in the nook of Lena's neck.
After a few minutes, Lena pulled back enough so that she could see Kara's face, "You're all over the news."
"I am?" Kara said, surprised, even if her eyes brightened for a moment.
"Yeah," Lena scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tried to keep her voice light and playful even as it shook with nerves, "Most people aren't used to the idea of a woman flying around saving planes."
"I guess it would take a little getting used to," Kara laughed, her smile faltering as the memories of the night came back to her; a shiver ran through her body.
"We should get you into some warmer clothes."
"I almost lost her."
"Who?" Lena asked, her eyes searching Kara's, "Kara, _please,_ just tell me what happened?"
"It was my mom'-Alex's plane," Kara whispered, waiting for Lena's reaction, "And I couldn't just sit there and do nothing so I... Rao, she really is going to kill me."
Lena chuckled, stepping back up to Kara her fingers lingering around Kara's elbows as the Kryptonian raked her fingers through her hair, "Listen to me, you saved her life, she can't be mad at you for that, _and_ it was only a onetime thing."
Kara shifted on her feet, her eyes bouncing from Lena to the reporter on the TV screen, "What if I don't want it to be?"
"Kara…" Lena's voice rose in warning.
"I know, okay, I know. But tonight, I was able to help people and not just my mom. A whole flight of passengers needed me. And it felt good! If I could do that every day… why shouldn't I take that chance?"
Lena opened and closed her mouth a few times as she tried to figure out what to say. She had always supported Kara, always, and a part of her was happy for her. She would be able to live up to her potential and ever since they met, Lena had seen Kara's innate drive to help people, it was one of the things she loved most about her. But she also knew how dangerous this was.
There was a real chance that if Kara came out as a hero, she would not just be stopping crime but fighting real-life threats. Threats that could actually kill her. And Lena couldn't help but selfishly want Kara far, far away from that.
"I don't know," Lena said, sighing when she felt Kara tense under her touch, "I'm just- "
"You're worried," she said, it wasn't a question just a quiet observation.
"Of course I'm worried, Kara, you're my best friend!"
Lena's heart ached as her words rang through the apartment silencing both of them. Even after all these years she never had the guts to tell Kara how she truly felt. She was too afraid of Kara's rejection and more fearful that Kara wouldn't feel the same way.
So she kept her feelings quiet, tampering them until they all worked together to form the best friendship she could. She still loved Kara, and Kara loved her, just not in the way that she wanted. | 070729bb08dc4ff7baa45347af192ba4 | ['b1f9158ac1414932b94ce9426d888246'] | _“What?” Sara said distractedly, her eyes not meeting Ava’s. The Director couldn’t stop the small smile at the sight of her. Sara’s hair was a tousled mess from the night before, and the sun reflected beautifully off her bare skin as she reached down to grab her shirt._
_The blonde roughly pulled the shirt over her head, barely taking the time to pull it all the way down before shoving her legs into a light pair of jeans. Ava studied the details of Sara’s movements, her heart seizing at the recognition of just how far gone she was for this woman._
_“Stay.”_
_“Ava,” Sara whispered, stopping as she tilted her head in sympathy, “You know I can’t.”_
_Ava opened her mouth to protest, but she knew Sara was right. They were supposed to be taking a break. At least, that’s what they decided when they had had another full-blown argument over who was taking the lead on an anachronism._
_Sara grabbed her jacket from the rest at the end of the bed, pausing, her eyes seemed to scan over Ava. The director’s breath caught in the back of her throat as those cobalt eyes roamed over her but before she could muster up the strength to say anything, Sara was whispering a goodbye and walking out the room._
_Ava rolled her eyes as she collapsed back onto the bed, a hand coming up to cover her face as a sad, self-deprecating laugh rolled from her. She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know how to stay away from Sara when she was constantly being pulled in her direction. It felt uncontrollable._
_But they had decided to take a break._
_So that’s what they were doing._
_Even if it was one of the most absurd arrangements in the world, Sara was sticking to it and that meant so was Ava._
* * *
Sara welcomed the weight of the sword in her hand, as she adjusted it in her palm and got into a more defensive position, “We’re going to put up a bit of a fight, okay kid?”
“Fucking hell,” Claire murmured from behind her mother, “I thought you said we were surrendering.”
Sara smirked at the timing of her daughter’s colorful language, “If we don’t do this now, it’s going to be harder to establish any control later on. They need to know that we’re not just going to roll over.”
“Great,” the young blonde sarcastically replied, “so we’re actually giving them a reason to kill us.”
“It won’t get that far,” Sara assured while closely watching the gladiators around them, waiting for one of them to make the first move, that’d be her opening, “just a few injuries and then we lay down our weapons. Got it?"
“Yeah.”
As soon as the word fell from Claire's lips, the first warrior charged towards Sara. She quickly deflected his attack, and with a quick circle movement, she had him disarmed, her sword swiping across his lower legs. He was the first to fall.
Sara heard the sound of her daughter putting up just as good of a fight behind her.
A warrior cry sounded from her right, and Sara quickly spun, blocking the sword from coming down upon Claire. She growled as he pressed his weight down upon her sword. But with the scream of metal on metal Sara pulled her sword out from under her attacker’s, his weight toppling him over. Sara brought the hilt of her weapon down upon the back of his head.
“How are you doing, kid?”
“Peachy,” Claire grunted, rounding her back as a sword swung, aiming to swipe across her stomach. With an unexpected drop, Claire swept the legs out from under the gladiator. He fell with a hard thud against the dirt.
Sara and Claire continued to match the gladiators blow for blow. They made sure that none of their attacks were lethal but also maintained enough speed and accuracy so that they were hurt enough not to jump up again.
It was when the next gladiator charged towards Sara, that she saw her next opening. With a quick maneuver, Sara had the gladiator bent at the knees with her sword pressing against his neck.
“Stop!” she called out against the army, her voice inflicted with enough heavy breathing to give the illusion that they were losing an already lost battle. She focused on the weight of the man’s shoulders against her chest, when he tried to squirm out of her grasp, she slightly changed the tilt of the edge of her sword that had his efforts skidding to a halt.
Sara felt more than saw her daughter breathing heavily beside her, the heat of her body giving the Captain enough confirmation that Claire had picked up on her cues.
A loud round of clapping resonated across the field, and the sound of the army shifting out of the way for the figure moving towards them. Sara didn’t dare let go of the man she currently held as leverage.
“Did you have your fun?” The opposing general asked he stepped forward into the clearing, “Let my warrior go.”
Sara let out a snarl, waiting almost a second too long before releasing her hold on the man. With a forceful push, the gladiator was stumbled forward back into the crowd of warriors. Sara imperceptively moved in front of Claire, “We don’t want to cause any trouble.”
The general’s eyes scanned over his fallen soldiers’ in response, “You have a funny way of showing it.” |
6f7224f679ae4121bd3d928376d11b73 | ['b20c5695b84f4adfac8a3e6f3012ba58'] | Indecent Doctor Watson
Dear Doctor Watson,
It has been a pleasure having your expertise at the Saint Mary Clinic in Belgrave Gardens. You're work has been exceptional under your circumstances of chasing Sherlock Holmes in the small hours of the night, instead of sleeping.
The staff and I have become very fond of your lighthearted jokes and willingness to give a helping hand when is needed. We also enjoy reading your fabulous blog that details your adventures with Mr. Holmes and the flirtatious banter which you two partake in.
Here at St. Mary Clinic, it is with the most respect we can give, have decided to give you a week’s worth of vacation starting when you receive this notice. We have made this decision after the influx over the past month of bringing your personal life into your work life.
Even though your office is private, we would ask that you please refrain from sexual activity, even if a blowjob helps you think, we would like you to keep that in yours and Mr. Holmes’ bedroom, and not under the desk as you do paperwork.
In the week that you are away, we will be putting curtains in your office, and removing your blinds, as it is evident that you do not know how to use them.
(Our receptionist, Janie, would like me to also inform you that her husband has the same blue pair of boxers that Sherlock has, and “aren't they just sexy?”)
Jokes aside, we love you John, but we’d like your sex life to stay out of the clinic. It’s rather….distracting. Have fun on your vacation!
;)
With much love,
Sarah Sawyer and the rest of the clinic
xxx
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry it's short, but the small, humorous idea came to me and I thought I should write it.. | a885378c11e044e0b7866d3648e3d744 | ['b20c5695b84f4adfac8a3e6f3012ba58'] |
Remembering The Little Things
**Author's Note:**
> **The "-+-" indicates current time switching to the flashback and vise versa**
>
> Hi, this is my first post here! I've written on Wattpad but I've begun to like it here. Much more fandoms, very nice :)
>
> I'd love feedback, and enjoy my first Johnlock/BBC Sherlock piece of writing!
It had been a hard case in the past two weeks, but finally Sherlock connected all the pieces.
It had really stumped the consulting detective, meaning he was even more of an annoyance to everyone else, leaving his flatmate to apologize for him as usual.
With his work being done, Sherlock went straight back to Baker Street and crashed. John knew the younger was running on the minimum amount of sleep so he could have more time for the case.
But for John, he just needed a pint. Something to relax his nerves. Even though they go on chases almost twice a week, they still wore him out.
Luckily for the blogger, the DI had already planned to go to the pub.
"It still surprises that the sister did it...How the hell does a seven year old know how to shoot!" John cried out, swigging down the last of his second pint, already wishing for a third.
"Oi! Kids these days, so glad the ex and I decided not to take the kids to any shooting classes until they can decide on their own." Lestrade said with his usual smile.
"I forgot about your little ones, how are they?" The doctor signaled the bartender to bring more brew to their booth.
"They seem to be adjusted with the divorce. Much better than I thought...but that's good at least.." Greg sighed. John new it was a hard subject for him to talk about, but him and the Yarder had a close relationship in the short time of knowing each other, they acted as if they'd known each other since they were toddlers.
There was a moment of silence before Greg put on a sly smile. "You know back at the Yard, people think you and Sherlock are more than just-"
"-Flatmates?"
"Friends."
John blushed at the word. Sherlock would never admit that they were friends, caring for people isn't an advantage.
But everyone knew Sherlock cared deeply for his small blogger.
It was apparent whenever they were together. They showed it even when they were having a domestic.
"We're really good friends." John finally said when the elderly bartender came with another pint. "Ah thanks ma'am."
"Just keep up the blog John, the staff and I love it!" And with that she turned back to serve more customers.
John blushed again, embarrassed for being recognized in public once again and Greg laughed.
"You know we all think it's more then that Johnny. In the five years of knowing him, I've never seen him this....human.." The older paused, "He's happier, he cares what you think John.."
The two men sat in the dim light of the pub, both thinking about the younger Holmes.
"Sherlock doesn't do emotions, you know that. He doesn't love, he doesn't do relationships, he's said it himself."
Greg only gave the doctor look that definitely meant 'bull'. "Come on John! He's had to have shown you some emotions!"
John set down his glass, the DI could obviously tell John was thinking...
-+-
_"John?"_
_The doctor opened his eyes and sat up from his position of laying his head in Sherlock's lap on the couch._
_Even when sitting, Sherlock was still taller then his blogger, making John groan to look up at him._
_"It's not my fault your hight is below average. That's your genetics." Sherlock smirked, as if reading John's mind._
_"Oh shut up. I passed primary school, I know how traits work you git." The doctor raised his shaking hand and rubbed his eye. "How long was I out?"_
_"Oh, about forty minutes now, you began to doze in the cab. I had to carry you in," Sherlock paused to look over the older, "You know, for a male of your age and height, you are quite under weight."_
_John scoffed. He knew since he got back to London he barely had the heart to eat. "I could say the same to you. You don't even eat when you have a case!"_
_"It weighs me down." The taller said plainly. He got up from the couch and strode into the kitchen._
_John winced at the loud opening and closing of a cupboard. He knew it was the side effects of whatever drug Moriarty gave him to be compliant- or to at least stop his struggling._
_Suddenly the consulting detective reappeared with a glass of water and two pills._
_"They're for your headache, and well, I know your shoulder injury seems to be flaring up again. PTSD?"_
_John's breath hitched. He looked down but accepted the pills, swallowing them dry._
_Sherlock knew he'd take them without the assistance of a drink, but set it on the table in front of him, knowing he'll feel better drinking something._
_"I'm a sodding doctor. I can take care of myself." John said, trying to sound strong, but failing when his voice cracked off into a chocked sob._
_"John, you're a doctor, yes, but please-"_
_"No! Listen to me Sherlock! I'm a bloody doctor for Christ's sake! I've seen war! I've seen my best man get blown up with my very eyes! I should have killed Jim! How could I let those men take me! Why couldn't I defend myself...Why?"_
_By now the blogger was crying, his hands were balled into fists._
_Sherlock knew the doctor was just having a breakdown, he could handle it himself...but normal people would try to help in a breakdown, right?_
_"John?" Sherlock went around the coffee table and sat down next to the ex-captain. He gently turned him until they were facing each other._ |
5a1f3d706f71449ab7b84a61f7e60a07 | ['b21600d2f8a94391bb2755d9ec687c36'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Glee does not belong to me.
“Emily, please describe to us the relationship between Jane and Mr Rochester”.
The student shuffled to stand up in the middle of the classroom rambling of her mind. Blaine couldn’t help but notice that she’d probably done her assignment last night. Leaning back in his chair, Blaine jotted down the little arguments she had. His mind drifted off easily, and he began to think of tonight’s teach meet. Blaine had been honorably invited because he was “an inspiration and nuanced educator on the edge of society”, as the inviter put it. Apparently, all sorts of people were coming tonight; middle school teachers, guidance counselor and even kindergarden teachers. He was going to present his teaching and assessment method. _Do I even have a method? All I do is what seems to be the most fun. I wonder if there going to be any food there, I’m likely to be stuck here until five, so I’ll be starving. Hope they’ll have some coffee as well...._
“Mr Andersson?”, Blaine was interrupted from his thoughts about food by the student with the haphazard presentation.
“Yes, thank you Emily. That was most.... interesting. Now, you all have presented your assignment, we’ll be doing a new kind of exercise, so follow me students.”
Blaine led the students out of the classroom and out on the green meadow by the bleachers. The sun was shining brightly, and he gestured the students to sit down in the grass.
“Now, firstly that classroom choked all my possible ways of breathing. Secondly, there’s sun outside. Thirdly, here we’ll holding class and performing our exercises for the next couple of lessons. Unless its raining of course.”
Blaine always enjoyed to teach class in the sun. It brought happy smiles, energy and enthusiasm out of the students. Blaine always try to keep a positive attitude towards his students. He knew he wanted to educate youngsters when he was widely appreciated as homework tutor in his younger days. Although, being a 28 year old teacher, he wasn’t that old. His father and mother was delighted to hear Blaine’s decision to become a teacher, both finding that he would be the perfect fit. Many students liked his lessons and payed attention.
“When you look around yourself now, you may think that we’re only in a meadow. But in Jane Eyre when Jane ran along the meadow, escaping Mr Rochester’s manor, she was in great distress. Now, that very particular scene may be hard to relate to when we’re outside in such sunny weather. For this assignment you will be writing that scene from Jane’s point of view. You can use this place as a source of inspiration or try reenact the scene. Let’s get started!”
* * *
“Oh, please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so!”, The little children of St. Luke’s School, New York were seated in a huddle around Mr Hummel. They all listened gingerly as the story about Max and the beasts continued on.
“Mr Hummel?”, a knock to the door interrupted Kurt in his story telling. Tina, his colleague, stood in the doorway motioning for him to come over. Kurt nodded and closed the book.
“Hey kids! You know what? Miss Cohen-Chang here is going to tell me something and if you stay clam during the time there’ll be a surprise for you!”, The children cheered and interacted with each other as calmly as they could. Kurt went over to Tina who he followed out into the hallway.
“Hey Tina, what’s up?”
“We’re going to the teach meet tonight right?”, Kurt nodded and waited for her to continue.
“Yeah, about that. You know that guy from the dance studio we visited last week with the kids. Well, he called me and asked if I wanted to go for dinner.”
“And you’re wondering if I could go as two people?”
“Yes, please Kurt! He’s like really good looking and have really nice abs!”
“Okay then Tina. But you’ll have to give me what you are supposed to present to me by lunch.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll have it ready for you by noon!”
Teaching was a passion Kurt and Tina shared together, for the younger children especially. Both of them have been on this journey together since college. Best friends; they work together and live together. They share a small apartment in East Village, Lower Manhattan which they were lucky enough to find. As teachers, Kurt and Tina both like to attend teach meets for inspiration.
Kurt returned back to the kids waiting in the small reading room to find them fairly calm. He picked something up, held it behind his back and sat down in his chair.
“Now, I said that I would have a surprise for you if you stayed clam. Firstly, I know you have wanted me to read this for a long time and it came in yesterday. Secondly, you will all be able to go for lunch a little bit earlier than the others!” The children cheered. Kurt shushed and took out the book behind his back.
“It’s ‘The house at Pooh Corner’”. Kurt opened the book at began to tell the story about Pooh and Piglet building a house for Eyore. The children loved story time before lunch and so did Mr Hummel.
2. Chapter 2
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
“It isn’t actually, lucky you!”
“Sure is”, Blaine smiled and sat down in the small plastic chair. “I’m Blaine Anderson, you are?”
“The name’s Martin Olson, I’m a professor at NYU”.
“The NYU? Which department?”
“Steinhardt, we specialize in culture, education and human development.” He smiled and shook Blaine’s hand. “Gosh, I just sounded like an advertisement, anyway it explains why I am here.”
“I went there for my teacher’s education, but I don’t seem to be able to recall your name”, Blaine pondered. | 162509faa6d44ac99964fee369e7e70b | ['b21600d2f8a94391bb2755d9ec687c36'] | Kurt and Blaine at the Eurovision song contest 2013
**Author's Note:**
> Neither Eurovision song contest or Glee belong to me.
“No”
“Please Blaine! Pretty Please! It’s _the_ event of the year. We _have_ to watch it live!”
“Kurt, we are not flying all the way to Europe to watch a music competition. Why can’t we simply stream it online when it’s on?”
“Because, Blaine, it’s the Eurovision Song Contest, it’s the biggest music competition of the year! It’s like... greater than X-factor and American Idol combined!”
“So you’re suggesting we fly all the way to Europe-”
“Sweden, really.”
“Sweden then... to pay to watch some outrageus music competition with a bunch of artists we have never heard of?”
“Well, we don’t have to fly back straight away. We can stay there for a while, enjoy a short vacation, and maybe even discover how to be a true viking!”
“Kurt, the vikings are actually from Norway.”
“Whatever, but please Blaine! Can we go? It’ll be a romantic, fun and exciting mini weekend!”
Blaine let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.
“Okay then, we’ll go. But you’ll have to fix the tickets and sort out with transport, hotel-”
“No problem! I have already bought everything! A stunning, sea-side hotel in the centre of Malmö, first-class airplane tickets, and great seats for Eurovision as well!”
“Wait, you bought everything before asking me?”
“Ehh, kinda? But now that you said yes there’s no problem. Everything is gonna be fantastic, I promise.”
“When are we leaving?”
“In three days!”
* * *
“Where’s the snow? Isn’t everything supposed to be covered in snow here, Kurt? I must say... I am a bit disappointed.”
Blaine and Kurt were wandering the city streets of Malmö, sighseeing the town and taking in the pre-party atmosphere from the up-coming contest - the whole city was involved in its preparations.
“Blaine, there is no snow all year around here.... only at Christmas, just like at home. That’s what I read in the guide book at least.”
“I think you should study that book with caution Kurt...”
“Well, it’s the only thing we have for guidance and it says we should at least visit one IKEA during out stay, so let’s go!”
* * *
“Oh my god! She kissed her! She kissed her!”
Blaine was jumping excitedly in the crowd of the Eurovision song contest.
“Did you see Kurt? Did you see it?”
Kurt was smirking at Blaine stading next to him.
“What? Finland’s awesome! We should go there sometime! Oh Kurt... Eurovision is amazing.”
“I knew you would like it! That’s why I bought the tickets before I told you about it.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too, honey. And you haven’t even heard Romania yet!”
* * *
“I am terrified. Are those floating tampons?”
_It’s my liiiiiiife~_
Kurt and Blaine stood in shock as Romania’s singer belted out the opera song mixed with dubstep. The almost naked people on stage were dancing around the flowing red skirt - it was a sight that was one of a kind. After the song was over Blaine turned to Kurt.
“Kurt?”
“Yes Blaine?”
“Is this guy on for next year too?”
“Dunno, maybe? Eurovision is a yearly, competing event.”
“Well, can we go next year too?”
Kurt smiled at Blaine.
“Always. I can never say no to Dracula singing opera.” |
5ba6a0ef7f44496e9a9f1e55e5c6f923 | ['b223bb0b25364395b85f4520cf84bf21'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> I went into this with clear ideas about what would have to change to keep Mia in Kurain, and then I mentioned almost none of them in this fic. Instead, I made a number of minor timeline changes to allow one line jokes. Whoops?
Lana is almost certain that this will be a waste of time. Investigating the victim’s hometown is only so helpful when she died alone in a different city. But she needs to investigate every angle to this case, no matter how ridiculous. So she’s bitten the bullet and spent two hours on a train to learn more about spirit channeling.
The door to Fey Manor is as large and ostentatious as the rest of the building. When she knocks, it’s opened by a girl who can’t be more than nineteen. She’s wearing the most stereotypical mystic robes Lana could have imagined, in a lurid shade of pink. It does not make a great first impression.
Lana hides her lack of enthusiasm behind a mask of stoic competence. “I need to speak with the Master of Kurain,” she says.
The girl gives her a flat look. “Have you scheduled a channeling?”
“No, but I’m not here for one.” She pulls out her badge. “I’m here investigating the murder of Sarah Lake.”
The girl’s indifference falls away. “Oh,” she says. She looks at the floor. “Thank you for coming. I’m Mia Fey, the next in line for the title of Master. I’m afraid you still won’t be able to see my mother, but I should be able to answer your questions.”
It’s not ideal, but Mia seems to know what she’s talking about. And the sooner Lana can ask her questions, the sooner she can go back to investigating the actual crime scene. “Okay,” she says. “In that case, I have some questions about spirit channeling. The victim claimed to be a medium, yes?”
She half expects Mia to take offense at her phrasing, but instead she just smirks. “Sarah was a medium, yes, but you don’t seem inclined to believe that. So why don’t you ask her yourself? I think it’ll be an enlightening experience for you.”
Before Lana can think of a response, Mia closes her eyes and begins to murmur. Her face goes blank. Lana’s about to ask if she’s okay when Mia’s features begin to shift. Her lips thin, her nose turns up, and Lana could swear she wasn’t that tall a minute ago. It’s like a bad special effect playing out before her eyes.
When Mia’s eyes open again, they’re wide with confusion. Lana can sympathize. She isn’t even sure if she should be referring to her as Mia anymore.
The person who had been Mia furrows her brow. “That badge…” she says. “Are you the detective investigating my murder?”
Lana pulls herself together as best she can. She’s sure she’s seen weirder things on cases before, even if she can’t think of them at the moment. She’s a professional. “Um,” she says professionally. “I’m Detective Lana Skye, yes. And who might you be?”
“I’m Sarah Lake.” She smiles sadly. “Nice to meet you, detective. I’m sorry to have caused such a hassle.”
That would not be Lana’s first choice of description for being murdered, she thinks. It feels strange to just accept that she’s speaking to someone who’s been murdered, but she doesn’t have a better for the things she’s just seen. Mia’s new facial features do seem to match what Lana’s seen of the victim.
She decides that she can worry about all this later. She’s going to treat this like she would any other interview. “I’m just doing my job,” she says. “It’s not hassle.”
“Thank you nonetheless,” Sarah says. “I’m assuming Mia is the one channeling me?”
“That’s correct.”
“Please thank her for me, too.” Sarah laughs quietly to herself. “And if you would, tell her that she has every right to say ‘I told you so’. She’ll know what it means.”
“Of course,” Lana says. “I do have a few questions for you, Ms. Lake.”
“I can imagine,” Sarah says. “I believe I can make your life much easier. After all, I know who killed me. It was my boyfriend.”
Lana blinks. He had been the prime suspect, but having her suspicions confirmed outright is suspiciously simple. “Can you tell me more?” Lana asks, hoping the ghost’s story will hold up.
“Not much, I’m afraid. The last thing I remember was starting to channel for him. He said he wanted to talk to his father one last time.” Sarah sighs. “Our spirits leave our bodies when we channel, so I couldn’t tell you what happened next. I don’t even know when I died.”
And there’s the catch. It sounds like she didn’t even really know that it was her boyfriend, just that he was the last person she’d seen. On the other hand, if she had been channeling when she was killed, that would explain the discrepancy in the angle of the stab wounds. Her body would have been a different shape when the knife had entered.
Assuming that all channeling worked like Mia’s did, of course. Lana’s sure that will be fun to explain to the judge. She’s just as glad that she’s not a prosecutor yet.
For the sake of formality, she asks another round of questions, trying to learn more about the situation leading up to the murder. She still doesn’t have any idea what possible motive Sarah’s boyfriend could have to commit murder. Sarah doesn’t either, but Lana does at least manage to learn a little more about their relationship.
“Thank you,” she says at last. “You’ve been a huge help. I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to bring your killer to justice.” | 240635d19d5f4e0c9a2454f5d5b21f70 | ['b223bb0b25364395b85f4520cf84bf21'] |
Devotion
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Laslow hadn’t spoken to anyone from Nohr since he’d joined the Order of Heroes. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to avoid them. He’d just missed his mother and the other Shepherds, and wanted to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity to spend time with them while he could. And he didn’t want the Nohrians asking awkward questions about his chumminess with people he shouldn’t know, and the next thing he knew he was ducking behind a pillar because Lady Elise was looking in his general direction.
He knew that Lord Xander would scold him for being ridiculous as soon as his lord arrived, but that would be nothing new. Until then, he was free to behave as foolishly as he liked, an opportunity he intended to take full advantage of.
His joy in doing so didn’t last as long as he hoped. He loved his parents, but he didn’t know most of the older Shepherds very well, and the only ones of his generation that had shown up so far were Lucina and the others that had traveled to Nohr with him. They could only spend so much time together without thinking about how many of their friends were still missing.
He was almost relieved when Kiran announced that Veronica was attacking Askr directly. If Veronica was coming, Lord Xander was almost certainly with her. Laslow hadn’t been around for Veronica’s first attack on Nohr, so he didn’t know why Lord Xander was still under her control after everyone else had been freed. It hardly mattered, though. This was his chance to free him from her grasp.
The Order mobilized remarkably quickly for a company of its size. They made it to the ruins with little trouble, other than their encounter with the man who looked like Gerome. Laslow still wasn’t sure what his deal was, but at least his disappearance provided a break in the fighting. Kiran took that time to assemble a smaller team to try to take Veronica and her personal guard down as quickly and cleanly as possible.
Thankfully, Laslow managed to secure a place on that team. Lord Leo was also chosen, which was a little awkward, but Laslow couldn’t exactly begrudge him the desire to rescue his brother. It wasn’t as if they’d been best friends before they’d been whisked to Askr anyway. Lord Leo probably hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Laslow’s behavior.
These thoughts kept him occupied until the battle started, at which point he didn’t have time to worry about anything but not dying. He knew better than to engage Lord Xander directly. Laslow charged a troubadour instead, only to get hit by a blast from her staff. His body became too heavy to move. He wanted nothing more than to lie down where he was standing.
He pressed forward. It only took two slashes for the troubadour to fall. As she died, the weight lessened. He took a breath and shook out his limbs, checking for lingering slowness. Once he was satisfied, he rounded on a swordsman.
His veins filled with icy poison. He cried out, which alerted the swordsman to his presence. _Stupid,_ Laslow thought. He lifted his own sword to parry, but his fingers were still numb. His grip was too weak to stand up to a blow. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact.
There was a scream. His eyes flew open in time to see trees sink back into the ground below the swordsman’s mangled frame. Laslow smiled shakily at Lord Leo, who nodded back. Laslow scanned the battlefield for his next target. As far as he could tell, though, they’d all but won. Veronica was surrounded and currently yelling something about fairness.
Lord Xander was sitting on the ground, breathing hard. Laslow drew on the last reserves of his strength to rush to his lord’s side. “Are you all right?”
Lord Xander smiled tiredly. “I’m fine.”
Lord Leo rode up and all but flung himself off his horse. “Brother!” He pulled Lord Xander to his feet.
“It’s good to see you again,” Lord Xander said. “I wish it could be under better circumstances. As it is, I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk.”
“Milord?” Laslow asked.
Lord Xander sighed. “I’ve sworn to stay by Veronica’s side, and I refuse to be the one to inflict still more loneliness on her. She reminds me too much of Corrin.”
“Xander – “ Lord Leo was cut off by a wave of Lord Xander’s hand.
“I know this won’t change the past, but I can’t make someone else suffer as our sister suffered.”
Lord Leo bit his lip. It was clear that he had more to say, but he couldn’t formulate a comeback in time to stop Lord Xander from getting back on his horse. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon enough,” Lord Xander said. “May it be under happier circumstances than these.”
Laslow could only stare as Lord Xander rode away, apparently indifferent to the fact that he was abandoning one sibling for the memory of another.
Lord Leo made a choked sound beside him, and Laslow automatically put on his best roguish grin. “After all the times he’s scolded me for chasing after women, there he goes. Maybe he’s finally learning to lighten up.” He tried to keep his tone light-hearted, to ignore Lord Leo’s stricken expression.
At his words, though, Lord Leo managed to change it into a glare. “Is that all you ever think about?” he spat. “You just mounted an attack on your own lord, who then betrayed and abandoned you to ride off who knows where in the service of some witch, and you’re just smiling and cracking jokes?”
Laslow felt his smile falter, but he refused to let it drop altogether. He was well aware of his situation, thank you. He was also aware that the instant he stopped smiling he was almost certainly going to start crying. Doing so in front of Lord Leo would just be embarrassing for everyone.
“I’m sorry?” he offered. He managed to keep his voice from cracking, which he was rather proud of.
Lord Leo took a deep breath. “No, no. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not like I didn’t know what sort of person you were.”
Laslow couldn’t help but be impressed. Lord Leo had managed to come up with an apology that hurt even more than the initial insult. Selena wished she could be that harsh.
He let himself wallow for a moment before shutting himself down. It wasn’t like getting mad at Lord Leo would help anything. Even if he was the “sort of person” to pick a fight with someone who was clearly distraught, it would be stupid to needlessly antagonize his lord’s brother.
“It’s fine,” Laslow said, though keeping up his smile was almost as painful as his injuries. “Let’s just regroup with the Order. Kiran can figure out where to go from here.”
Lord Leo stared into the distance. “Yeah.” He shook his head. Then he got back onto his horse and began riding back.
Laslow swallowed. _Maybe I should get a horse_ , his brain supplied inanely. He certainly wouldn’t mind being able to ride away from his troubles.
As it was, he was looking at a long and lonely walk back. |
c25f2ee3ca9045c6b560aa51da5bf662 | ['b22473c1f3e7493880ec3a14af3d53ee'] | Love never slows down
**Author's Note:**
* In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the LINK collection.
> Written for Tumblr art prompt "cottage" by anonymous on sh_ficletinstruments. This is the first time I'm undertaking a prompt challenge, I hope I can fulfill. The ficlet is unbeta'd, thus any and all mistakes are mine. Also, english isn't my first language.
>
> Hope you enjoy.
The cottage is actually nothing like the brochure, or the website, or even any of the pictures the previous visitors have posted. And for a brief second Magnus wonders if they’ve been duped.
But that is before a heavy arm catches on his shoulder and a muffled curse makes him turn just in time to catch Alec in his arms as he stumbles on the folded corner of the “Welcome” rug.
“Careful” Magnus says, lips curling involuntarily, and he can’t resist adding, “I would rather you don’t faceplant and hurt that pretty face darling, I’m quite fond of it.”
Alec lets out a laugh that Magnus can feel in his chest as the nephilim presses closer. Long arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers gripping his hair at the nape, forehead slightly damp from the heat outside, press lightly against his. Alec’s eyes are glittering in a way Magnus has come to associate with deep, unconditional affection and a smile, utterly guileless and full of love graces the younger man’s face. “I know.” Alec replies. “I am _ quite fond _ of yours too.”
Magnus chuckles, warm and relaxed. It has been centuries since he felt like this. Like he can be free with his heart, untroubled and just enjoy the incredible gift that is Alec that life has bestowed upon him.
What’s supposed to be a little peck turns into a passionate kiss, desperate and hot. Alec takes a sudden step forward making him back into the display shelf behind with a thud. Something tumbles on the surface, cold, wet liquid soaking the bottom of his shirt making him hiss and break apart from the lovely red lips, he could spend an eternity tasting. “Shit! I’m sorry!” Alec apologizes, pulling him back and glancing around to glare at the offending planter, now devoid of the deep blue stained water.
Thankfully, nothing has broken, this time. “I think we should be a little more careful around unknown places Alexander, it could have been a centuries old ming vase.” Magnus teases.
“That was one time!” Alec responds indignantly. “What about that 19th century glass display you broke?”
Magnus shrugs, entirely calmly, replies “_ That was one time.” _ It is fun watching many emotions pass across Alec’s face, before he settles for righteous indignation and starts counting on his fingers. “17th century stemware, you had to pay for in Prague? Gold Sphinx head, no? Rare stained glass from that church? That mirror from the…”
Okay that one’s unfair! “_ That _ was all you!”
Alec has the gall to smile, “Oh yes, but you were the one who…”
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes them jump. “As much as I would love to hear your escapades breaking ancient items, I would be really grateful if you were more careful around here.” The man is in his mid-thirties, probably the missing housekeeper.
Magnus can feel Alec’s smile against his neck where he has hidden his face.
“We will.” Magnus says.
It’s not truly a promise. | 9269257da59141bdaa756101441391bb | ['b22473c1f3e7493880ec3a14af3d53ee'] | Blood rushes through his ears and his fists curl tight. With barely concealed rage and fire in his eyes, Alec stands up from where he had been lounging, straightening his back to his full height. It takes a monumental effort for him to suppress the urge to put his arrow through this repulsive man’s eye and instead lean in, close to the blonde’s face. It may appear intimate from a distance, but Alec’s voice is just above a whisper and cool as ice as he says, “You know that man, do you? Is that your expert opinion or are you just bitter he wouldn’t even look your way? Don’t you **dare** slander a man’s virtue, when you don’t even know him.” It makes people in their immediate vicinity stop and stare, ready to step in if the obnoxious blonde foolishly tries to engage.
His wannabe suitor appears taken aback by his sudden vehemence. He steps back giving Alec some space, having just enough sense in his addled mind to keep away from potential harm. Alec watches as he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in the process. The man wets his lips and takes a breath so as to speak, but doesn’t really get a chance.
Arm around Alec’s waist pull him back into a sturdy chest, he stumbles but is caught and held by strong arms, warm lips placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. Alec smiles, his previous infuriation momentarily forgotten and leans back against the thick thigh supporting the small of his back as Magnus claims Alec’s previous seat as his own. He puts on arm around Magnus’ neck, placing his other on the man’s cheek and leans in to put a chaste kiss on his warlock’s lips.
One small peck turns into two and soon Alec’s standing between the warlock’s legs, propped against the counter, his back cushioned by a muscled thigh and his lips entwined with his beautiful lover’s, relishing each other’s taste.
Alec pulls back with a smile, his heart full to bursting with love for this beautiful, amazing man. He can’t help but lean in again, for just a small peck. “You were amazing.”
Magnus chuckles and caresses Alec’s cheeks with the back of his hand. “ **We** would be even more amazing if we were there together.” A gentle brush of ringed thumb across his lips and Alec just melts. So of course, when Magnus stands up, grabs his waist and holds their hands together before asking, “care to join me?”, Alec says yes.
It's not really a hassle, the dancing, Alec thinks after spending two songs worth of time on the dance floor. It’s a slow sequence now and Alec has one of his arms around Magnus’ waist, the other holding his neck while Magnus is holding on to his hips with both of his. Simply swaying with the music, Alec brings his forehead down till he’s touching Magnus’ and smiles. “Hey”.
Magnus giggles softly, tilting his head to press a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Hey yourself.”
“Do you know you practically rescued that idiot. I was just waiting for him to say something else so I could kick his ass, or put an arrow through his body.” Alec says quietly.
“My my Alexander! Such violence against a mundane?! What did he do that made you so ready to forget protocol?”
Alec shrugs as well as can in their position. “He was trash talking about you. I couldn’t stand it.”
Magnus is silent for a while, even halting their dance. And just as Alec starts to feel that tiny spark of bubbling anxiety, Magnus leans forward and puts his head on Alec’s shoulder. Turning his head and kissing the rune on Alec’s neck, he whispers “my savior.”
And Alec understands. He can feel it in the way Magnus circles his arms around his waist and pulls him closer, in the way he huddles his face a little deeper into his neck, in the way his breath trembles against his ear.
Magnus is grateful that he stood up for him. And it just makes Alec so angry at the people who had previously been in this wonderful man’s life and not cared enough. Have not shown him how beautiful he is, how worthy of love and affection. Haven’t shown him that just because he is powerful, he doesn’t always have to be, that they are there, for him.
Alec holds him close too, gently rocking their bodies even though the music has changed again. “I love you.” He whispers. And Magnus’ equally soft, “you too” is just the music he wants to hear for the rest of their lives. |
f90b9753c7eb44339a561071de1f5f12 | ['b23986ddb4354182b20270870e10fdf1'] | Ivan blinked in the bright light of the cabin’s main room. Even with his string of lanterns at full blast, it was nothing compared to a proper overhead light and he felt blinded for a moment. He rubbed his eyes, waiting for them to adjust and in doing so, missed the way Alfred’s eyes darkened as he looked him over. The Alpha shut the trap door and began to push Ivan back towards his bed.
The Omega barely had time to properly look around at the cabin’s main room before tumbling back onto the wide, soft mattress. The cabin was decorated in a basic logger theme, befitting of having a camp on a mountainside. Everything was built from dark, study, polished wood. Near the door was a coat rack and in the corner a table that also seemed to be serving as a makeshift desk, notes and papers were scattered here and there around it. A rolled up rug was pushed up against the fireplace on the wall directly a cross from the bed. It had formerly covered the entrance for the Nest. The right wall Ivan recognized as leading to the bathroom. The door was shut now and his eyes barely registered the tall dresser shoved into the other corner before Alfred’s weight settled on top of him.
Ivan felt fur clinging to his come smeared, sweaty back as the Alpha pushed him down onto his fur quilt covered bed, a growl rumbling in his chest. The Omega felt his ears press down with nerves, eyes wide, “Alfred? What are you do-?”
The rest of his question was cut off by Alfred leaning down and kissing him hard on the mouth. It was an action that screamed possession, that Ivan did not have any choice in the coupling that was to follow. He could resist and be put in his place or hang on and maybe even enjoy the ride. Ivan opted for the later, submitting to his Alpha.
This is what it meant to be an Omega a dark part of his mind supplied. Any coddling and caring that Alfred had showed him, surely didn’t mean anything special. He was an Omega meant to serve the pack. As a distraction. As a fuck toy. As a breeder. As a caregiver. He was not Ivan. He was pack property.
Alfred did not seem to mind the soft whimpers leaving the Omega writhing beneath him. In fact, they seemed to excite him further. The Alpha broke the kiss and quickly stripped off his clothes, running claw tipped hands over Ivan. “Do your job my pretty Omega… satisfy me.” He growled.
Ivan nodded shakily. He spread his legs, horribly humiliated to find that his body was already leaking slick. His body knew how to do the job, even if his mind continued to resist. Ivan closed his eyes, bracing himself for Alfred to just thrust in but… He couldn’t resist peeking down as Alfred’s hands drew away.
Ivan stared as Alfred slowly lowered himself between his trembling knees. The Alpha spread him wide, one palm on each ass cheek to get a good look at his twitching hole. Wordlessly, Alfred leaned in and let his tongue lap up at the slick beginning to dribble down onto the furry duvet. Ivan gasped, hands digging into the sheets beneath them, “A-Alfred!”
The Alpha between his legs hummed in pleasure. His tongue wiggled deeper into Ivan’s body, obscene, lewd noises leaving his mouth as he lapped and slurped up the almost sweet slick. Alfred felt his tail wag as he took in the Omega’s scents. For all of his denial, the air was thick with heady arousal tinged with humiliation and fear. He could deal with that, so long as he knew that Ivan accepted and wanted this on some level. Alfred let one of his hands wander up between Ivan’s legs, slowly stroking and teasing his arousal. It heightened his own desire when he felt precome beading on the tip, dribbling over his fingers. Ivan was so sensitive.
”Good boy.” Alfred purred. He slowly pulled away to gaze down at the Omega. A familiar look painted Ivan’s features with lust: glazed eyes, flushed cheeks, and pouty, panting mouth. He was perfect.
Alfred reached down, dragging Ivan up into a sitting position. He wasn’t going to do all the work. “Go on.” The Alpha crooned, “Touch me.”
Ivan tried. His shaking hands gently caressed here and there. Alfred’s breath hitched, muscles jumping under that delicate touch. It seemed to encourage Ivan a little and he made his hands move to Alfred’s already throbbing cock without being prompted. The Omega wrapped both hands around his Alpha’s erection, fingers unable to completely encircle it. Ivan didn’t seem too daunted this time by the size as he began to pump Alfred. Up and down…
Alfred’s cock felt hot and an odd combination of hard yet velvety skin. Leaning down, the Omega lapped at his tip, sure to keep his eyes on the Alpha above him. It seemed to please Alfred for he began to play with Ivan’s hair and ears with a gentle touch of his own. Ivan made himself relax. Alfred wasn’t hurting him. Yet. The Alpha still reeked of tension, fear, anger and arousal. A dangerous combination.
Apparently, it made Alfred impatient as well. Because, all too soon, he nudged Ivan back, turning him over onto hands and knees. Alfred wanted to pull that tail since day one. Now he was going to. Gripping the base of Ivan’s silken tail, Alfred lined himself up with the Omega’s still dripping hole. He tugged at the tail. Ivan yipped and jerked backwards, rubbing the head against his ass. Alfred tugged again, forcing Ivan to rock back and begin to fuck himself on his cock. He didn’t stop until the Omega’s ass was pressed against his hips and that wet, tight heat had completely enveloped him. | 5ce65a0d96914166808045e478cb26c5 | ['b23986ddb4354182b20270870e10fdf1'] | “It’s a lie!” Toris spoke up now. Natalie glanced at him, the brunette Beta was shaking, “I helped raise Alfred: he would never purposefully put the pack in danger. If he lied he had a good reason to! Alfred is a good Alpha!”
“Is he? Then why did he not explain things, or at least stick around to make sure no one with unsavory agendas came around? He left you all with a little girl as leader.”
Natalie snarled, “And just what is your unsavory agenda?”
Antonio was unfazed by the she-Alpha’s anger. He just smiled as the wolves around him began to snarl and snap: “Revenge of course. For our former Alpha.” The creepy Beta snapped his fingers and the beasts lunged forwards.
*~*~*~*
Ivan and Arthur jerked apart as the trap door slammed open and a newcomer dropped into the Nest beside him. Arthur growled, but it broke off in a hiss as his weight settled on his still healing broken leg. Ivan struggled to focus but everything was hot and blurry and painful. There was an ache, an ache deep inside of him. “Please…” The Omega whined. A familiar scent drifted towards him: pine and maple. Two trees. Matthew.
Above him, Arthur relaxed a little, “Matthew, good you’re here… I… I’ll probably need help with his heat. Ivan’s started. Where is Alfred?”
The taller blonde considered them both for a moment, ears perked and alert, taking them in. “Alfred isn’t here. With any luck he won’t be coming back, but that’s beside the point.”
“What?!” Arthur seemed to snap out of his lustful daze at those words. Ivan on the other hand, remained just as lost, writhing and moaning weakly. He seemed to be taking more of Matthew’s attention then Arthur’s floundering. “How dare you say that about your Alpha! Quit playing around Matthew, where is he? We need him.”
“No you don’t!” The sharp power in Matthew’s words made them both tremble. Arthur gasped again, lightly as he looked over the wolf he had given birth to. “Matthew… what are…”
“I am taking Alfred’s place as Alpha.” Matthew said. He strode over, kneeling besides the two of them and carefully, but forcefully picked up Arthur and moved him to the side, “I will be taking my Omega during his first Heat.”
Arthur stared at him, “You can’t take his place. Alfred is still Alpha here.”
“No he’s not! He never was!” Matthew snarled. The new energy radiating off of him made Arthur shrink back. He had never seen his Matthew, his sweet pup like this before… for a moment, the normally calm and kind Beta looked more like his mad father than anything. What was going on?!
“Alfred’s mother had an affair with a Blood Fang wolf. Alfred is of Blood Fang, I heard him say so myself! And Ivan can vouch for me.” Matthew said. He gripped the Omega’s chin, making him look over, “Isn’t that right? Alfred is a Blood Fang.”
Say it. The compulsion rolled through him, sinking into Ivan’s head addled brain. Was this what projection felt like? It was a heady rush. Matthew could get used to this. He would be Alpha, he would make Steel Claw great again. He would mend things with Blood Fang and the two packs would rule this mountain.
“It’s true…” Ivan whimpered, “Alfred said so.”
Matthew smiled in a satisfied manner as Arthur looked on shocked. “See?”
“But, Alfred is my Alpha. Not you.”
Matthew looked down at the Omega, momentarily surprised to see that Ivan’s gaze had a bit of sharpness left in it. He’d always know that the former Gamma was going to be a challenge, he just didn’t think he would really get any part in it. But now, he was going to make Ivan his own. There would be other Omega. He wanted Ivan, to show that he was the better choice for Alpha: not his scheming, lying cousin. If a little force was necessary in the beginning then so be it. “Is that so?” Matthew’s voice had become cold and sharp, “I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m Alpha to you.”
The Alpha Candidate’s head snapped around, looking at his mother, “Do you need help getting out of the Nest?”
“I’m not leaving.” Arthur said defiantly.
“Get out or I will make you!”
Arthur staggered to his feet, stumbling as he tried to put weight on his broken leg. Matthew sighed and got up. He easily scooped up Arthur into his arms, leaping out of the Nest with him. Dropping the wounded wolf gently onto Alfred’s, his, bed, Matthew looked down at him, “I’m doing what is best for the Pack, Arthur. Alfred is dangerous. Especially if he’s been letting Gaston Boneffoy continue to exist!”
Before Arthur could do little more than sit up, Matthew had leapt back down into the Nest, closing the trap door behind him. And, no matter what Arthur did, he was not strong enough to force it open. Not even when the screams from outside and below threatened to drown him.
To Be Continued in: What is Worse than Monsters?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I was really nervous about making Matthew a villain in this story... and I hope to build up more with him in Part 2. I will also be focusing more on how the Great Pack works in the next part so, unfortunately, Alfred and Ivan will not be reunited for a while. Fear not! He will come to the rescue, the Great Pack can't stand by and let a false Alpha take his place, right?
>
> Part 2: What is Worse than Monsters? - Coming October 2015
17. The Revamp!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> How to be a Monster is being re-written!
Hello all! Thank you so much for your support of my work despite my horrific hiatus!
I actually cannot put out part 2 as I have decided to rewrite part 1 of the Pack Trials. To me, the story seems very rushed and I want to build the characters more before I branch off in to Matthew's coup, Francis' trial and the Great Pack's plot....
So, if you all will be patient with me... Please stay tuned for the improved: How to be a Monster.
The original fic will stay in place but this new one will be its own beast and probably start a whole new series just so I can keep the old and new separate.
First chapter should be up some time this weekend! Once again, thank you all for the support!
Give Ivan's floppy ears a rub for me will you?
**Author's Note:**
> Side Note: Is anyone else having problems with viewing the statistics on their stories? |
b3987da22fbe4867afbbd3da66637ab1 | ['b25f3201d7d140f988b231c5a0b90fc4'] | “Laurent” he called. “I’ve decided it’s time for you to begin training with a sword. Your brother begged me to do it himself, but I think it’s time for you to get out of his shadow, don’t you think?”
“That sounds reasonable father.” To him, that sounded like a threat.
Laurent moved carefully, approaching his father as one would approach a bear. The king had his hand outstretched with a training sword on it. The teenager took it and before he had time to react, he had been thrown on his back.
“First lesson, never leave your guard open.” Aleron seemed far too pleased with having Laurent lying on his back.
He got quickly to his feet and held the sword trying to imitate his father’s grip. When the king didn’t strike, he swung the sword trying to get a hit, which the king easily blocked. They exchanged a few more simple blows.
“Keep track of your feet, you need to be able to react, either going forward or backwards.”
Laurent positioned himself with a wider stance and in the instant it took to get on his guard again, the king disarmed him. Again.
“Focus on your enemy, at all times. If you lose focus, you are death.”
At this point, Laurent started to get angry. He struck harder and became clumsier. The next time Aleron made a feint to get into his guard, the prince unloaded all his strength on the counterstrike which made him lose his balance and end on his knees. This time, all by his own making.
“That would be the most important lesson” the king’s voice had become sharper “you lose your temper, and you are death.”
It was all made worse by the keen satisfaction that shone on Aleron’s eyes; as if he had proven a point. It was a deeply unfair fight and he knew it. It was also obvious he had no intention to actually teach Laurent anything useful.
“It does not matter either way, does it father?” the prince felt humiliated, which made him get defensive. “My place is as an advisor, I don’t have any reason to step foot on a battlefield, except to broker a peace agreement. I don’t see why I should waste my time here.”
He should have expected the blow, but it was the first time his father had hit him. The shame was bigger than the pain though.
“I know you are useless on a battlefield, but I hoped maybe I could get you to act like a man Laurent. Once again, you are a disappointment; if something happens to Auguste, my kingdom is doomed.”
The teenage prince hardened his expression while he listened to his father. He schooled himself and forced the tears prickling at his eyes to remain unshed. There was no outward sign of his heart breaking, his face a perfect image of resolve.
“I have never intended to be a king, and I don’t get what is the great deal about being a man either. But if that is the way you feel about me, you can drop the pretense now about being my father. That way, you are no longer disappointed and I am no longer obliged to love you”
The look Aleron directed at him was so full of disdain and rejection that Laurent was genuinely afraid of the consequences. But the king just turned away and left. Just as the king’s back was facing him, Laurent felt the skin on his wrist start to tickle.
“No, it can’t be.” The prince muttered as he saw one of his tally marks start to fade to gray. He had intended the opposite with his tirade. He had wanted to vanish the king from his heart. But he had also admitted out loud to loving his father, saying the words even if not in the traditional manner.
Sometimes, the worst thing about having awful parents is that even when we are trying to get rid of them, we love them.
Laurent had now proof.
3. The Goodbye
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> It's the night before the battle of Marlas, and the princes of Vere are busy with war preparations, working seamlessly side by side.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter goes with a special dedication to vaskianmountains. Your comment gave me the encouragement I needed to finish this, so thanks a lot.
There are some things that one always keeps close to their chest, like dark terrible secrets that can never be expressed in the light of day. Jealousy is one of the worst of them, because it is petty and not useful at all, it is not logical. Sometimes Laurent felt jealous, and he knew with a conscious mind how stupid it was, but he felt it nonetheless.
Right now— like most times— they were directed at his older brother, which made the feeling worse because Laurent loved Auguste with all his heart. It was not his fault that Laurent was clumsy, and bookish, that he had problems opening a conversation. It was not his fault that sometimes speaking felt like a terrible chore, or that grand arrangements of people felt so terrifying to him.
But Auguste was a natural at them, which made Laurent jealous, and he hated himself for it. Especially in this dire circumstances when his petty feelings weren’t relevant at all. They were on a battlefield! There wasn’t time for juvenile feelings as the two princes were walking through the soldier’s tents overseeing battle preparations.
Auguste was walking as every inch the future king he was. He strode leisurely and with purpose, barking orders without having to shout, everyone quieted at the sight of him. Also, he never stayed to watch his orders being fulfilled, he knew he was going to be obeyed. At his young age he had already won the trust of this men who would tomorrow follow him onto battle to fight for Delfeur. | 45917a5567414883ad59725993d26a5d | ['b25f3201d7d140f988b231c5a0b90fc4'] |
Of romances past...
**Author's Note:**
> Hey! So this is my second fan fiction ever and I’m super excited about the Shiro announcement so this will probably be super messy and crappy. Just an idea in my head that I need to get out while I still got the energy to do it.
Being a princess sucks big time most of the time; especially when one needs to assimilate the fact that you’re not actually the last of your race and your people has been opressed by your ex-almost boyfriend and still you need to keep yourself together and somehow gather the strength to save the universe. Again.
It’s safe to say Allura wasn’t at her best and no one could actually blame her. But also, she wasn’t sure whom she could confide in or even if she should. She knew it wasn’t healthy to bottle up all of her emotions but also, everyone was dealing with a lot on their plates already. For instance, Keith somehow grew 2 years and now he’s changed and seems so mature and calm but still he hasn’t recovered from the shell shock of Shiro’s clone or Shiro’s death (and brought to life once again). Or Lance, who had been so fucking supportive of her even after she dismissed him and his advice just because she though he was being petty and jealous. (She really needed to apologize to him for that). And that is without taking into account all of her team, who collectively had so much issues that they could make any therapist weep in desperation.
Allura sighed as she picked herself up from the sleeping bag she was previously lying on accepting the fact that sleep would not come to her that night. She looked at her team sleeping in their own bags surrounding the bonfire that had been put out several hours ago and noticed that Shiro was gone. For a moment she panicked, because seriously if she had to lose him once again she would die, but relaxed when she saw him resting against the paws of the Black Lion. It made sense for him to feel safer there, after all, Black had saved him and their souls were intertwined for more than a year.
She made enough noise for him to know she was approaching him and he immediately relaxed further into Black’s paws.
”Hey” he uttered softly while giving her a tired smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”
”I honestly don’t know how I am going to ever sleep again to be honest“ she responded in the same soft voice.
”I used to think that too” he confided ”but eventually exhaustion beats you”
”I presume that was meant as a joke, but actually it’s disturbing Shiro” she chastised “what’s got you so down lately? I figured you’d be thrilled about being alive again and you know, finally going home.”
”I am very happy for being alive, and grateful for this new opportunity princess. But going back to Earth... I guess I don’t really know if I should be happy about going back”
Allura didn’t say anything at that. She had never seen Shiro look so raw and open, not even after going on that Galra ship where he had his nervous breakdown. He looked like a man who is sure that he has no home to go back to, and it broke her heart. Shiro was everyone’s model of strength and resilience and Allura hated seeing him so broken, so she did the only thing that felt right and she sat next to him and guided his head into her lap. He relaxed and went without protest, almost started purring when she lightly started to stroke his hair.
”I’m sorry princess, I’m being selfish. Lance told me about what happened with Lotor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to support you, we have always led the team together and you shouldn’t have had to deal with everything alone after what that bastard did to you” Shiro muttered angrily, not moving from his position on Allura’s lap.
“Actually, that’s completely on me” Allura said. “I failed to recognize you had been supplanted by a clone and I also failed to recognize that he was using me. But not only that, I wasn’t there for my team who obviously needed me because I was too busy making google eyes at a mass murderer.” Allura paused a bit, trying to get her emotions under control. Her next words were uttered very softly, almost like a whisper and Shiro had to actually struggle a bit to understand her words.
“You know the worst part? I actually liked him, I fell in love with him. And I miss him.”
Shiro took the hand that was petting his hair and intertwined his fingers with hers. They had been very close since the beginning of their relationship, but he knew that she was confiding in him with something deeply close to her heart and he wanted to show his support just by letting her know he was there for her.
”You know, I have learned that we don’t get to decide who we fall in love with. When I was a cadet at the Garrison, there was this guy, his name was Adam and he was an idiot. He had two left feet and no chill at all, he didn’t have the ability to understand a joke, and while we never directly butted heads, somehow out of a silent agreement we did everything to keep out of each other’s paths. Time passed and we became roommates so things became awkward really fast. We fought about everything, you name it: laundry, general neatness of the room, who had first turn at the shower... and it came a time when the only way we communicated was through arguments.” Shiro paused smiling fondly at the memories |
ebda127527774c9c9fb941810ac29145 | ['b28e02e153254d40a41c55650a3fada4'] | The food was undeniably delicious, but Lucretia couldn’t shelve the discomfort in her gut that she’d felt all evening, and she half-heartedly pushed her spaghetti around on her plate, nibbling at her meatballs. She’d been so good at this, once upon a time. Even with Davenport by her side, a constant reminder of her treachery; even with the boys at the Bureau, talking to her as a stranger; she had never let herself dwell on these things too long. There had always been a mission, a next step, another piece of her plan to focus on to distract herself from thoughts of what she’d done. But now, with her friends all around her seemingly oblivious to her crimes, it was all she could think about.
She snuck some of her meatballs to Johann, but even with half of them gone, Barry still looked at her plate with a concerned furrow in his brow as he cleared it.
While Barry did the dishes, Lup and Magnus set about rearranging the living room furniture, pushing the couch back and spreading blankets and pillows on the floor. They were going to have a big, cuddly movie night if Lup had anything to say about it--and she, in fact, did. She groused playfully about not getting quality cuddle time with her buddies, while Lucretia stood awkwardly by and watched.
“And for you, Lucretia dear,” Lup said, triumphantly unfolding an enormous cushion she’d retrieved from another room. “A cushion mattress. I know you’re not as spry as the rest of us, and I didn’t want you sleeping on a hard floor.” She spread it on the carpet next to the piles of blankets, lovingly arranging a pillow and comforter on top.
“Lup, you shouldn’t have,” Lucretia said, her gut roiling painfully.
Lup straightened, her cheeks a little pink, and Magnus looked at Lucretia with a shy smile. “It’s--we know you’re not old, Lucretia,” he said quickly. “But, y’know, Merle mentioned you’ve been going to him for arthritis, so Lup didn’t want--”
Lucretia shook her head, sighing. “It’s not that,” she said. “You just… you didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I could have slept on the floor.”
Lup smiled, relieved that her efforts hadn’t been construed as an insult, and stepped over the blanket mountain to take Lucretia’s hand and squeeze gently. “I know you could have,” she said. “But I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. No sense in giving you a relaxing weekend where you don’t get to sleep. The Director of the B.O.B. deserves a vacation. A real vacation.”
_I don’t_ deserve _anything,_ Lucretia thought, frustrated. _Especially not all of this._
“What about you?” she asked. Lup smiled, shrugging.
“I slept mostly on cold dirt for the first twenty years of my life,” she said easily, and Lucretia had known that, of course she’d known, but it only made her feel worse. “The floor is nothing. Barry will take the couch, because he’s a monster who actually thinks it’s comfortable.”
“Hey,” Barry said from the doorway, smiling as he dried his hands with a dishtowel. “I resemble that remark.”
“You shouldn’t have done this,” Lucretia whispered, her heart feeling like a dying star inside her, heavy and collapsing.
Lup’s face was soft and sad, but she was smiling. “Luc, honey,” she hummed, putting her hand on Lucretia’s arm. “It’s just a padded mattress--”
“ _All_ of this,” Lucretia said, her breath catching. “Taako should be here instead of me. This is all too much.”
“Lucretia,” Barry said, his tone gently admonishing. “We want you here. Taako didn’t want to be here, and that’s his business. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”
“Why not?” Lucretia demanded, her tone suddenly hot. “It’s my fault. It all is.”
“Hey,” Magnus said, a furrow in his brow. “Lucretia, we told you we forgave you for all that.”
“ _Why?!_ ” Lucretia cried, her hands grabbing at her hair in frustration. “Why did you all forgive me? I--I can’t understand… the things I did…”
Her throat closed as she spoke, choking her until her words died, and the ensuing silence threatened to crush her into dust. She closed her eyes, unable to bear their pitying, conflicted expressions, and clasped her hands in front of her, feeling them tremble faintly. Someone shuffled closer to her, and she didn’t look up to see who it was, but it was Magnus’ unmistakable bear paw that came to rest on her shoulder, warm and heavy and comforting.
“Lucretia,” he said, his voice achingly soft. “We’ve been together for a century. We’ve been through so much. You took our memories away, sure--but it was for a reason. We know you weren’t trying to hurt us.”
“The things you went through,” Lucretia moaned, her cheekbones aching with the threat of tears. “The things _I_ put you through, Magnus…”
Another warm hand landed on her shoulder, and Barry was there, smiling at her tenderly. “You went through a lot too, Lucretia,” he said. “You saved the world all alone for twelve years.”
“I guess it just feels silly to hem and haw over who did what to who when we’re all here now,” Magnus continued. “We saved the world. You saved the world, Lucretia. It wasn’t easy, but this—“ he gestured to the others, their smiling faces full of kindness and love. “This is what matters.”
Lucretia trembled, Magnus’ hand her only anchor. “But Taako—“ she whispered.
“Taako will get there someday,” Lup said, firm in her confidence. “He’s a master grudge-holder, but none of this has changed the fact that he loves you too, honey. He just needs some time with his anger.” | 9d5b6b4128c744d997421797401253ca | ['b28e02e153254d40a41c55650a3fada4'] | And after so long, Teddy felt himself becoming hollow, too. As if his vitality and soul were being sucked away alongside Billy’s, as the weeks passed and he began to forget why he’d thought they might be able to keep it together with Cassie and Jonas and Eli gone. Tommy was disappearing more and more often, for hours and occasionally days. Teddy worried about him, always worried, and sometimes he even wondered if he was doing hero work behind their backs—as if Teddy would blame him, when the newscasts sometimes made him want to scream with the frustration of being trapped in the apartment and unable to help. But the time away from his twin seemed to do Tommy good, as if he could forget the bleakness of the Kaplan house altogether. Teddy almost envied him.
But more than that, it was watching his other half literally waste away in front of him. Some days he thought maybe Billy wasn’t even with them anymore. If, somehow, the acknowledgment of his own fear of himself—because that’s what it was, Billy had always been afraid of himself and his power, but now he was letting it consume him completely—was eating him alive, like a parasite, sucking him away slowly. Teddy felt like the only thing keeping him sane was his own efforts to get Billy to wake up, the little one-sided conversations he had while he sat next to Billy on the window seat and tried desperately to see what Billy was seeing in the empty sky outside the window. Some days he felt like he was talking to someone in a coma, and he pretended that, as if somehow Billy’s brain was recording everything and when he woke up he would remember that Teddy was always there, talking to him, touching him sometimes, loving him even if there was no person left to love.
“Mass Effect 3 is coming out soon,” he offered one day, as the two of them watched the sun dip below the skyline outside of Billy’s window. He reached over hesitantly and took Billy’s hand in his, running his thumbs over the back of Billy’s palm, touching each of the knuckles in turn. “Tommy wants to get it the weekend it comes out so we can finish it before the internet spoils it for us.”
Billy’s head turned a fraction in Teddy’s direction, and Teddy lamented that just that was enough to make his heart leap with joy, but a second later it turned back to the window, his expression even more neutral than before. Teddy sighed softly, but kept rubbing Billy’s hand.
“It’s supposed to be really nice this weekend, and your mom wants to take your brothers to the zoo. And us, too, if we want to go. Tommy got really excited about seeing giraffes for some reason, and he got all sad when I told him they don’t have any.”
Billy turned himself toward the window, jamming his knee up against the glass, and tugging his hand out of Teddy’s grasp. It hurt, a physical sting that started in Teddy’s heart and spread aching fingers across his chest and into his belly, but he knew he couldn’t push; not now, not this soon.
“I’ll leave you alone,” he murmured, resigned, and stood up, planting a hesitant but no less affectionate kiss on the side of Billy’s head before shuffling out of the room.
He tried not to let it hurt him, he really did. He knew, at the very least, that it wasn’t personal—Billy wasn’t pushing him away specifically, he was pushing everyone away. Which didn’t make the ignored conversations or deliberately unacknowledged gestures hurt any less, but he knew that if Billy was still in there at all, at least he still loved him. Teddy knew that. He hoped that. He prayed.
Maybe Billy had been having nightmares all along, just like the rest of them, but it wasn’t until weeks after they got home that Teddy started to notice them. Sometimes he could just hear Billy moaning through the wall, little keening whines of distress that would quiet down after ten minutes or so, and maybe pick up again later, or maybe not. At least Billy was sleeping, Teddy thought to himself. But seemingly without cause, they started getting worse—or, rather, they abruptly became worse. Teddy knew immediately that what woke him was Billy’s moaning, which was unusually loud coming through the wall, and when he pushed himself up and off the mattress Tommy was already lifting his head off his pillow, blinking blearily.
“Shut him up, will you?” Tommy moaned, rolling over, and Teddy stepped over him carefully to sneak out the door and into Billy’s room.
Billy was thrashing in his bed, kicking at the blankets, which were tangled in knots around his ankles, his fists knotting in the sheets and pulling, desperately, as if he was looking for purchase on a cliff face, in danger of falling. Teddy approached as carefully as he could, hearing Billy’s moans turning into coherent words, desperate and pleading, his breaths catching and sobbing in his throat.
“Don’t, don’t go, Ted,” he whined into his pillow, his voice hitching painfully. “Don’t leave me alone.”
The desperate pleading hit Teddy right in the knees, and he crumpled forward to kneel next to Billy’s bed, reaching out a gentle hand to rest on Billy’s arm, and then the back of his neck, rubbing there gently.
“I’m not leaving, Billy,” he murmured carefully, and Billy’s eyes dragged open, his chest hiccupping with his sobs, and he looked at Teddy, blearily. Teddy knew immediately that he wasn’t fully awake, and part of Teddy was glad for that, didn’t want to see Billy’s eyes go dead when they looked at him, didn’t want him to turn away.
His voice seemed to calm Billy, who moaned softly and laid back down onto his pillow, his eyes blinking twice before closing again. |
29d18ebab0764992a66a186e3da316ce | ['b2a1f54fb054449b8e8acdb02065afb4'] | Eventually he found himself sitting on the steps of a beautiful, columned building. He was hugging his knees tightly to his chest and staring off blankly at the never ending pink sparkles, unsure of what to do next.
When he felt something brush against his leg, he jumped several feet into the air and screamed like a young child. He backed away quickly from where he had been sitting, once he landed back on the ground. He instantly froze when he saw what had brushed against him.
A pink glitter cat.
And as if on cue, hundreds–no, thousands of pink glitter cats began to approach him from all sides. They all mewed and mewed as they came closer and closer... and they terrified the life out of him.
He spun around to take off running... but there was no escape. No matter which direction he turned, there were just more cats coming. He began to panic. There was no way out!
Just as the horrifying cats of impending doom reached him...
He sat straight up, suddenly awake.
Pitch panted for several minutes in a cold sweat.
When he had been defeated by the Guardians and lost control of his nightmares, he had known it would mean that he would lose some sleep. But this? This was ludicrous! That nightmare was far more horrific than anything Pitch had ever even imagined!
A sickening knot began to settle in Pitch's stomach as he slowly lay back down.
Sparkles/glitter/confetti?! Pink _everything_?! Rivers that put you to sleep and then give you amnesia?! Unicorns?! An abandoned greek city?! Demon cats?! Ugh, the cats were the worst part!
Never in his life had Pitch been more unnerved. Ever. That had to have been the worst nightmare ever created.
After that incident, he determined to stay awake, no matter how hard. Anything was worth it, Pitch was certain, to not have to go through _that_ again.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! Hope it didn’t waste too many of your brain cells. | f2f2b02d4feb4c7bb168337e8848dcb8 | ['b2a1f54fb054449b8e8acdb02065afb4'] |
**Author's Note:**
> (1-14-17)
> WOW. I wrote this AU a looong time ago. No regrets though, right? (I have Regrets)
"Yoohoo? Anyone home?" Pitch moaned as the annoyingly cheerful voice of the winter spirit, Jack Frost, floated to his ears. After his defeat by his own nightmares, Pitch had simply wallowed in his own self pity for the past many weeks. No sign of any life, except for the annoying nightmares who ran rampant. Frost was now an unwelcome exception.
"I know you're here somewhere. C'mon, if I'm bored, you've gotta be dying!" Great. Frost was bored, and had decided to bother him to get un-bored. How wonderful.
"I don't associate with the likes of you, Guardian," Pitch replied, his voice clearly very annoyed and not amused in the slightest.
"Too bad, cause you're stuck with me! Where are you again?" Pitch moaned in agony. This was far worse than any torture he had ever imagined. Far worse.
"Oh, there you are! How are you? Never mind, you're probably doing terrible. I'm doing pretty great. I've got eight whole believers! I'm not meaning to shove it in your face, honestly. The other Guardians are just so busy doing their jobs that they don't have time to talk to me... so I came here! I mean, you couldn't be doing that much, right?"
Karma was indeed all that she had been made up to be.
"So, now that we've got that over with, wanna play 20 questions? I'll go first! Why in the world, after the who-knows-how-long that you've been alive, would you randomly attack the Guardians? Why now?"
Pitch was suddenly listening, though his hearing soon faded to only be able to hear the thundering pounding of his heart. His already slumped body seemed to slump more, and his eyes closed tightly. Without realizing that he was actually giving the brat the attention he was after, Pitch began to retell a memory.
* * *
Laughter. Dreams. Joy. Happiness. Innocence. Pitch Black felt like he might lose his lunch- a problem mostly because he hadn't had any lunch. The children of the world, no matter where he went, were just so infuriatingly happy. They feared so little, it made him feel queasy, sick even, every time he witnessed their frolicking.
Pitch was currently masked with shadows, standing in a patch of shade beneath an elm tree. The tree was standing alone, but tall, thick and strong. He guessed it to be at least 200 years old, and marveled at its magnificence.
The tree was located in the center of a small settlement. Pitch wouldn't even call it a village, it was so small. Barely 40 people, and that was measuring on the high end.
Pitch had been hearing many humans talk, in the past decade or two, of the 'new' land they had found to the west. The foolish Easterners, as he had always called them, refused to understand that there had been Westerners living on the western land masses they had 'just found' for as long as the Easterners had lived in their east. All that this 'new discovery' meant was more wars were coming. The Easterners saw themselves above the Westerners, because their customs were different, and the Easterners would use this as adequate reason to take over the west. They and the Westerners would fight. Pitch had seen this happen many times before, and would surely see these pathetic humans do it many times more.
Curious as to how close his predicted war was, he had gone to one of the small English settlements to observe. He took the shadows, and never left them. He hadn't in centuries; he didn't want to take the chance. After his defeat at the hand of those Guardians, Pitch had stayed hidden. He hated them with his every ounce, but his desire for revenge was left be. There was no point to trying to kill them. His life was fine as it was. What more could he want than his shadows and the occasional phobia to extort? Or so he told himself.
Suddenly, a slight pang of fear shook Pitch from his thoughts. It wasn't much fear; an adult worrying over something. He felt plenty of this fear all the time. It didn't make him stronger, but it wasn't necessarily bitter. Pitch tended to ignore this fear. But now, having nothing better to do, he followed the fear's direction to see two young children, a boy about 14 and a girl 7 or 8, walking into the woods, leaving their worried mother behind.
An evil, twisted, demented, and generally terrifying smirk crawled across Pitch's face. There were so many ways to scare young children in the woods.
Nearly giddy at the prospect of the fear that he himself could cause- even better than taking advantage of someone else's doings- Pitch followed the two children into the woods, of course, by way of the shadows.
The first trick he used to try to scare them was simply the manipulation of shadows. He darkened the woods significantly, especially along the path before the two. But, much to his frustration, the boy comforted the girl and neither of them were the slightest bit nervous, even in the middle of a wolf infested forest that was growing steadily darker every moment.
He next tried rustling bushes to make it sound like there were wolves nearby. Nothing. A shadow snake slithering by their feet. Just a startled jump backward. Trick and trick Pitch tried, but to no avail. These kids were fearless. Stupid, he would even go to say. |
fbacdeafa2204f1bb2402ca1d90aa39b | ['b2b36383c35c46b2b6bb004e9e42c750'] |
Altercation
"It isn't proper protocol, Tony," Steve said, voice deceptively calm. "Someone could've gotten--"
Iron Man's faceplate snapped up, revealing Tony's tense frown. "I knew no one would get hurt. Do you really think I would've done it if I thought someone would get hurt?" A smirk flashed across his face for a brief second. "They don't call me a genius for nothing, Steve. I don't know why you can't seem to get that." He turned on his heel to walk away, and the armor fell from him as he went, reassembling neatly in its base.
Steve squared his jaw. Tony always seemed to play the genius card when Steve got angry at him, as if his IQ was supposed to excuse all his faults. "I don't understand why you feel the need to endanger the whole team like that. There were plenty of other options, and I'm sure a genius could see that."
Tony scoffed. "You must've been fighting a different battle, Cap. That was the only way to end it before someone actually _did_ get hurt. If it had kept on going, at least one of us would've done something stupid, and they'd pay for it."
" _You_ did something stupid."
Tony turned back to face him, smiling widely. "Ah, but I'm not paying for it! I'm fine, you're fine, the team is fine. Everyone's okay. The only consequence I see right now is you chewing me out."
Steve gritted his teeth. "You were lucky, and that's the only reason no one got hurt."
"If you say so, Cap." Tony retreated further into his workshop at a leisurely gait, leaving Steve to simmer alone.
"You're impossible," Steve grumbled, mostly to himself.
Tony tossed up a wrench, watching it spin before snatching it out of the air. "You say that, yet here I am," he singsonged, a cocky grin on his face.
Steve shook his head and stalked away.
He wasn’t sure why he and Tony clashed the way they did. It seemed every little thing with them became at least a minor altercation, no matter what. Team movie night? Steve and Tony were fighting about what to watch. In a battle? Steve and Tony were disagreeing about strategy. Sitting around the tower with nothing to do? Steve and Tony were bickering about something, without fail.
There’s no real reason for their constant fighting. They were both smart men; smart enough to know that squabbling would get them nowhere, yet they kept on looking for things to fight about.
Sooner or later, it would become dangerous, and Steve had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
"Do not say a word," Tony said through gritted teeth.
Steve raised his eyebrows, but remained silent.
The Hulk stood where Bruce had been just seconds before, half naked, confused, and getting angrier by the second.
"Not one word," Tony growled. "I don't want to hear anything about how I should've seen this coming, or that you tried to warn me, and Bruce tried to warn me, and J.A.R.V.I.S tried to warn me. I don't need you to tell me that Bruce and untested tech don't mix, and I--"
Hulk snarled, and Tony shut up.
"Why metal man make things blow up by Hulk?" the giant commanded.
Tony glanced at Steve, the question obvious in his expression, and Steve smiled. "I can't help you. I'm not allowed to say a word about all this."
Tony scowled, but before he could argue, Hulk poked him in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards, eyes wide.
"Lucky Banner likes you," Hulk grumbled. "Won't let Hulk smash metal man."
Hulk stomped away, and Tony let out a deep breath. "All right, go ahead: lecture me."
Steve smiled. "No, I think you covered all the bases yourself."
Tony only frowned at him.
* * *
"You aren't listening!" Steve snarled.
"Of course not! This strategy of yours is ridiculous!" The faceplate slid up so Tony could glare at him. "Doombots aren't that sophisticated. You're overcomplicating everything!"
Steve turned to fully face him, shield held in front of him in a ready position. "And what would you have us do, Stark? Scatter and let Doom take us out one by one? We need to work as a team."
Tony sneered. "All we need to do is take them out, and we can all do that by ourselves. Doombots are the worst excuse for an AI I've ever seen. They don't stand a chance against us no matter what!"
"Then why are we still standing here?" Steve demanded. "If they're so easy to take down, go show me."
The faceplate snapped back down, and the repulsors began to glow. "Fine, but don't--"
"Area cleared," Clint said through the comm. "Doom cut it off short today. Bots dropped dead as soon as he ran off."
Tony's repulsors powered down. "Did we just miss an entire battle because--"
"Because you were bickering like a married couple again, yes," Natasha cut in, walking up to them.
Tony shrugged as well as the Iron Man suit would allow. "Well, another job well done. Nice work, team." And with that, he took off.
Steve gritted his teeth, but let him go. This was an argument for later.
* * *
"We need to talk about this," Steve announced as Tony sipped at his morning coffee.
Tony quirked an eyebrow. "About what, Cap?" he asked, voice gruff with sleep.
"About how we're compromising the team with meaningless arguments."
Tony rubbed at his eyes. " _This_ is going to turn into a meaningless argument."
“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it. If we can’t go a day without butting heads, what kind of team are we?”
Tony took another long sip from his coffee. “We’re still a pretty good team, even when we’re bitching at each other, so does it really matter?” | ac694027fdfb4533ab58da53cb7f1080 | ['b2b36383c35c46b2b6bb004e9e42c750'] |
1. Prologue: Los Angeles, California
**Author's Note:**
> For the Reaper76 Summer Event over on tumblr! Mostly for the 'Hit the Road, Jack' prompt, but I'm trying to fit all the themes in there, at least in some small way.
> This is only the prologue; future chapters are longer.
> Title from the highway they follow for most of the trip.
“So, is exploring your hometown gonna give me any amazing insights into the enigmatic Gabriel Reyes?” Jack asked, one eyebrow cocked.
Gabe scoffed. “As if you didn’t already know everything there is to know,” he grunted. “And, anyway, I doubt it. We only have a few days here; not nearly enough time to dig up anything good.”
“Yeah, and I kind of doubt you spent a lot of time growing up hanging out in tourist traps like this,” Jack pointed out, waving a hand at the Walk of Fame stretching out before them.
Gabe huffed out a laugh, shrugging. “You got me there, but this is the shit everyone wants to see their first time in LA.”
“Which means it’s obviously not the good shit, and you’re holding out on me,” Jack countered, eyes narrowed. “I know you know all the _really_ good places around here, and I want to see them.”
“You have to earn those places. You have to grow up around here, find them for yourself. Prove your worthiness. Don’t you have places like that back in Buttfuck, Indiana?”
Jack sighed. “ _Medora_ , Indiana, which you should probably keep in mind since we’re driving there in a couple days, and, no, not really. Rural Indiana’s an open book. Plus, if there were any, I’d totally take you to them, so you owe me.”
Gabe sputtered. “How do you figure? You just said they don’t exist!”
“It’s the thought that counts,” he insisted. “Now, come on! Take me to your favorite place in LA!”
“You’re impossible. Fine, let’s head back to the car.”
Technically, his favorite place in LA wasn’t in LA, proper, but a little further north on California’s shore. A secluded stretch of beach sat hidden behind a row of shops in LA’s outskirts, where tourists never bothered to visit. Behind the shops was a steep rock cliff, not too high, but daunting enough to discourage even most locals. Gabe led Jack down a narrow path he’d found down a softer incline, to a point where they could easily drop onto the sand below. Getting back up would be trickier, but far from impossible for two super soldiers such as themselves.
“No wonder it’s so empty,” Jack remarked as he landed beside Gabriel, gazing out at the azure ocean ahead. “How’d you find this place?”
“Almost rode my bike over the cliff when I was young,” Gabe explained, smirking at the memory. “Barely managed to brake in time, then I noticed that little path and made my way down.”
Jack abandoned his sandals by the cliff and strode forward, toes curling in the sand. “It’s gorgeous,” he said, a gust of wind ruffling his golden hair. In the harsh sunlight, it looked almost the same color as the sand beneath their feet. He turned back to face Gabriel, grinning mischievously. “Wait a second. You, the broody, loner, edgelord that you are, like to spend time on this bright, sunny beach? Don’t you have an image to keep up?”
Gabe rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile. “What, you expect me to be on all the time? Let me have this, Morrison.” He kicked some sand in Jack’s direction, scattering it up to his knees.
Jack laughed and waded into the gentle waves, letting the ocean rinse off the sand and splashing some water over at Gabriel, soaking most of his shirt.
Gabe recoiled, not quite fast enough to escape the assault. “Oh, and this is how you thank me for taking you to my favorite place?” He pulled the soaked shirt over his head, throwing it back towards the cliff to join Jack’s sandals. “It’s fucking _on_ , jackass.” He sprinted into the ocean with Jack, sending water flying everywhere.
The ensuing water fight lasted nearly twenty minutes and ended with them both sopping wet, clothes dripping saltwater into the sand. Gabe could feel his curls sticking to his forehead, and Jack’s hair, usually perfectly spiked in his trademark style, lay mostly flat, only one or two stubborn cowlicks remaining.
“In retrospect,” Jack began, both of them still wading in the edges of the waves, “this probably wasn’t our best idea.”
Gabe spared him a dry glance before returning to wringing the water out of his beanie. “Really. You think this is worse than signing up to be the military’s human guinea pigs?”
Jack laughed softly. “Fair enough. Still, though; we have to dry off before heading back to your folks’ place. I don’t want to spend four days in a truck that reeks of salt water because of our stupid water fight.”
“‘Our’ water fight? You’re the one who started it. That was _your_ water fight,” Gabe argued.
Jack shoved him playfully, with just enough force to sway him the slightest bit. Gabe shoved back with about the same strength. They kept walking back and forth along the small stretch of beach as the sun began to set, casting the ocean in shades of orange and pink. His eyes slid over to Jack’s, watched how the ocean’s colors reflected in his irises. He’d always thought Jack’s eyes looked like the ocean, and now that he could see them both at once, he knew he was right. He lingered for a couple moments more before forcing the thought from his mind. In just a couple days, they’d be trapped in his shitty old truck on a cross-country road trip; this was no time for these ridiculous feelings.
Jack’s soaked white shirt didn’t make it easy, though.
* * * |
7ced5e6f221b4d889545ac2963b89dd3 | ['b2bcbed858554021b9d28bebc805c1ec'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I was appalled by the lack of fics featuring the Ass Pounder 4000, so I thought it was only my duty to be the first one to write one and serve the community. This is the first time I write smut, and I am ace as fuck, so excuse me. Enjoy, and remember: NEVER STOP PUMPING.
Mac was still working on renovating their old apartment. He had spent the past week looking for replicas of every single piece of furniture and decoration they used to have around the place, but when it was time to rebuild his old room he stopped at the door, looking at the empty space. He glanced back to the living room and towards Dennis’ room, which still had to be redone and brought to its original glory, and which was also the bigger of the two. The decision appeared clear as vodka in front of him: he and Dennis would sleep together in their new bed… after all, they had been sleeping with Dee and Old Man for a year, they had come accustomed to it, at least Mac had, and he knew he didn’t want to go back to sleeping alone. So there wasn’t nothing more to do, Dennis’ room will become their room, and his old sleeping space would have to hold another purpose.
The next day, Mac retrieved his workout bike from the basement of Paddy’s and placed it in the middle of his former room. “The gym”; that was what he was going to call the new resting place of the Ass Pounder 4000. The name wasn’t that far of reality, using the bike was a real workout and he was getting good results with it, he patted himself on the back for making such a great invention. He looked around the apartment, made sure the door locked (which actually didn’t matter, he wasn’t expecting anyone to come), brought a couple of towels from the bathroom, and decided that it was a good time to give himself a reward and train for a while. He didn’t bother to change into his shorts, the ones with the ventilation slits, he was alone and he didn’t have to pretend in here. Before he closed the door to the room he had taken a small bottle with a clear substance inside of it, and returned to the living room to fetch the CD player. He draped one towel over the handles of the bike, the other on the floor, plugged in the player and started blasting his favorite workout mix top volume.
“Okay, time to hit,” he said to himself as he removed his clothes, carelessly throwing them across the room. “Always warm up before a workout, always warm up,” he told himself as he slowly started to stroke his cock, his hand moving up and down all along his length, twisting a little when he got to the top. In less than a minute he was already rock hard, the tip of his dick touching his stomach when he let go of it so he could settle himself on the towel on the floor. As he lay there, he continued his ministrations, his right hand fisting his enlarged cock while he ran his left hand over his chest, letting small moans escape his lips. He didn’t want to finish yet, he was just warming up. He opened the bottle of clear liquid and squirted some of the lube onto his left hand, he put himself on all fours and carefully reached behind him, rubbing small circles around his entrance with his fingers drenched in lube. Soon, one finger was already inside of him, pumping slowly.
Mac let out a moan at the feeling, slipping a second finger in, pushing in and out slow at first but then gaining speed, twisting inside himself, making sure his hole was open and ready for his workout session. He loved the warm ups, but it was nothing like the workout itself, he thought as he slipped a third finger. After a while he decided he was ready, his right hand been stroking his cock the whole time and he was harder than ever. He stood up, grabbing the bottle, and gave the bike a few pedals so his little addition popped up. He covered the dildo in lube –just to make sure– and climbed into the bike carefully. He aligned himself with it, took a deep breath and slowly pushed himself down on the big artificial cock protruding from the seat of the bike. He let out a sob that was half a moan as he settled himself, feeling so fucking full when he bottomed out, rocking his hips and moving them in small circles which only made him grunt more. He was ready.
He grabbed the handles of the bike, planted both feet on the pedals and started pedaling, slowly. The dildo retracted into the seat and Mac whined before it came back up and started pumping into him again. He pedaled, his leaking cock bouncing against his stomach as he fucked himself. He liked to think it was not a bike, and instead it was Dennis’ huge cock that was ramming into him… the thought of Dennis made his blood boil in his veins and he started pedaling faster.
“Fuck…Fuck…” he said between pants, the dildo going in and out of his stretched hole faster and faster, deeper than he thought he could, “Fuck, Dennis, fuck me please, harder.” He had closed his eyes and was starting to really put on speed. He moaned and groaned, his cock was leaking all over his stomach as he continued to pedal. He shifted slightly and let out a scream as the fake cock hit that place that made his knees weak; he panted and moaned increasingly louder as the long cock attacked his prostate harder and harder, no mercy in his pedaling.
“Fuck, yes, just like that. Fuck” he bit his lip. He was pedaling as fast as he could, his knees already getting weak. His right hand flew to his cock and started stroking again, desperately. He bended more over the bike, letting the dick enter him from a different angle, he was a sobbing mess, wriggling in the bike, groaning and moaning. The hand on his cock was working faster, his legs following behind, and he could feel the pressure building inside him, he knew he was close to cumming, he was so close… he gripped the handle tight with his left hand, lifted his ass from the seat and started meeting the bike’s thrusts with his own, double fucking himself. He let out a scream as he impaled himself on the cock and it hit his prostate again, and then he was cumming all over himself. He panted and brought his pedaling to the slowest again, riding his orgasm.
He rested his body against the handlebars, the fake cock still inside of him. He was sweaty and he was sticky with cum. He grabbed the towel and wiped down his stomach and his overly sensitive cock. After a few minutes he stepped down from the bike, his legs almost giving out, cleaned the prosthetic with the same towel and then threw it across the room. He was going to take a long shower, and maybe the next day he would work out a little more… after all, he needed to be in his best shape if he was going to finish rebuilding the apartment. | 789db4e5cad34f83819c61c72c0a83fc | ['b2bcbed858554021b9d28bebc805c1ec'] | Dean sat on one of the beds of their dirty motel room carefully cleaning his gun, taking it apart and putting it back together with the precision of a surgeon and the delicacy of a father; he had turned twenty one not long ago. Sam watched from a chair across the room and next to the window as his brother placed the gun with the white handle and the embossed barrel over a piece of cloth and proceeded to do the same with a simpler, less beautiful revolver. Sam smiled to himself, a warm smile that for the moment it lasted was able to make his shakes and shivers go away, a smile that was barely visible in his lips but that had come from deep within him and now rested on his eyes.
His brother; the one that had come to help him when he most needed it, the one that had carried him in his arms –more than one time in their lives– out of the fire and into safety. The one that made him laugh when he needed to, and also the one that made him angry and pissed and now a criminal in the eyes of the law.
Dean put the last gun aside carefully next to the others and looked up at him, his calm face turning into a mask filled with seriousness and a tint of fear.
“How are you feeling? Is the drink I made you helping?” he said with hints of deep worry in his voice. Worry. Never pity, never.
Sam looked down at the mug that he was holding and took a small sip. It tasted disgusting, and god knew what was in it, but if Dean said it would help…
“I don’t even know what this thing is supposed to be doing; I still feel like someone removed my organs and left some ice-cubes in their place and…” He paused, realizing his hands were trembling again.
Dean got up and quickly moved towards him, putting a hand over his pale and sweaty forehead.
“Okay Sam, finish that,” he said, pointing to the cup, “and you are going straight into that tub, man. Your fever is back and we need to bring it down ASAP. You look like death walking.”
“Thanks, you look great too,” he replied.
Dean helped him get up (and yes, his legs were giving up on him) and carried him to the bathroom, away from the cold fire that licked his skin threatening to burn him into ashes.
*********
Cas walked into the motel room carrying a white bag from the burger place around the corner and dropped it on the table. The chair was like a sweet gift for him, he thought, fishing out his hamburger and biting into it with a smile.
“I will never get tired of these…” he said and nodded towards Sam.
Sam was lying on one of the beds with his eyes fixed on a book he had taken from the last place they had been to, something that was now sort of what was expected from him. Most of the time he had to finish the books before they moved again —and they moved quite often and fast— and give them away; they took space. Now and then he kept one to read on the road, something light that wouldn’t take much space. After he was done with one Dean would pick it up for himself if it looked good, Cas would read over Sam’s shoulder when there was nothing else to do.
“Where is Dean?” Cas asked and took another bite, speaking now with a mouthful of a double cheeseburger. “I got him the bacon special, and there is a cheeseburger for you too. It’s gonna go cold.”
Sam put the book down, stretched, and knocked on the door of the bathroom, yelling at Dean to get out of the damn shower.
He unwrapped his burger and frowned down at it.
“Who forgets to put lettuce in a burger? Did you tell them to drop the greens?”
Cas shrugged and finished his in another bite, the back of his hand was a convenient napkin.
Sam rolled his eyes and started eating, he would have to deal with it like he dealt with everything else. He looked at him and nodded towards the door, Cas simply shook his head yes and sipped his coke, Sam took another bite of his lettuce-free burger.
After you spend a great part of your life with someone you no longer need words to understand what is going on. Cas had gone on foot for the food, the car was still parked outside their door, there was nothing to worry about at the moment. At least not that they had noticed. Cas reached towards the small radio and turned it on; a police scanner. The volume was down but you could still hear it, you could still be warned of anything suspicious.
“So, I scouted the place,” Cas started, “the schedule checks out. Two hour shifts, there is a window of around fifteen minutes between changes and the back alley is not guarded. We can park there and move towards the front, it should be pretty easy if we keep to the plan.”
“What about the glass?”
Dean came out of the bathroom on boxer briefs and a t-shirt, still drying his hair with a towel. He dropped it on the bed were Sam had been lying and walked to the table to fetch himself a burger. He unwrapped it with care and wiggled his eyebrows at the buns with a smile before looking up to his brother and Cas.
“What about the glass, Dean?” Cas replied with a furrowed brow.
“Are we talking reinforced? Bullet-proof? Your normal-ass glass?” He said as if it was obvious and took a big bite out of the bacon piece of heaven. “Fuck these are good…” |
ba4abeba8e724a4ca73693a4f6c76e41 | ['b2bfa77b7d58493ab08d6b7473d0fe5c'] | It wasn't too long before a mediwitch showed up and started rambling to him about the boys condition, he only half listened, knowing full well that there had been no change at all. She then checked Harry over quickly, made sure the machines were working perfectly, and left again.
Severus eventually tired of reading, the quiet, blindingly white room and its beeping noises so dull and boring. He was loathe to admit to missing the boisterous prankster that used to be the bane of his existence. That dunderhead he had taken in, however unwillingly at first.
He vaguely thought back to the bizarre event that named him the boys new, adoptive, father. The child's relatives had been abusive to him to the point that he had to be removed from them, blood wards be damned, and somehow he had ended up in Severus' lap. Black certainly had a lot to say about it but this happened while the man was still a convict and even after the events of the night at the ministry Black had been deemed unfit to take in Harry due to the state of his home and his mental condition after years of Azkaban.
Severus had come to enjoy teasing Black about the subject whenever possible.
Many had raised concerns about Harry being in the care of a death eater and what Voldemort could do about that to get at him but so far their fears had not come to fruition, whether because Voldemort was unaware, which was severely unlikely as the prophet had a lot to say about it, or he simply couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. Granted there was also the fact that Harry hardly stayed at Severus' house at Spinners End, opting instead to only spend the minimum two weeks there before moving to stay at either the burrow or the black house for the rest of the holiday, and this holiday he had of course spent almost the entirety of it in this very same bed.
Severus heard the door creak open and turned to look at who had entered, it hadn't been that long since the last mediwitch came by and usually they only came in and bothered them. He had to suppress his rage when he saw baby blue robes covered in bright yellow stars that had been charmed to float about.
"You have no right to be here old man," Severus practically growled, "What do you want?"
"I thought I might find you here Severus." Was Dumbledore's only reply, his voice was as light as ever, as if he didn't pick up on Severus' animosity towards him.
"I asked you a question." Severus stated, calming himself down a bit, it wouldn't do to get too angry, especially since he knew his blaming Dumbledore for the accident was thus far unfounded.
"My boy," Ugh, that stupid name he gives everyone, "I simply wanted to know when you will be getting back to work?"
Severus knew that by 'work' he didn't mean as a teacher.
"I have answered this many times already sir." Severus ground out, he was not known for his patience.
Dumbledore looked truly sad, that damned eye twinkle only adding to the effect. "You know you can't stay by his side forever." Dumbledore stated, "It has been nearly half a year now and he has shown no signs at all of waking, will you continue to insist upon staying at his side? When will you let him go?"
"Let him go?" It was said in a deathly whisper but Dumbledore clearly heard it in the empty room where the only other sound was that of the beeping and humming machines. "I won't." He stated, glaring at Dumbledore with one of his best, "I will stay by his side and look after him, even if he doesn't wake up. I can't give up. And besides... You know what will happen if I do." At the last words he couldn't help but grab his right wrist, the one bearing the unbreakable bond to protect Lily's child.
"Forgive me Severus, I did not mean it in that way, simply that you are wasting your days beside this bed and must move on, you are very much needed elsewhere, the mediwitches would inform you if there was a change and if they needed you here." Dumbledore truly looked his age as he said this, his eyes did not sparkle and his wrinkles stood out.
"My answer remains the same." And that was the last that was said of the matter, Dumbledore left and Severus resumed his position.
At some point later a mediwitch came by again, this time feeding Harry disgusting muck through a tube and then checking both him and the machines over. These witches had been specially trained to know how to use the muggle devises, the Prophet had had quite a bit to say about the muggle practices the healers had taken up in a last-ditch attempt to hold onto the-boy-who-lived's life. News regarding Harry and his condition had been all the Prophet wanted to talk about at first but after a while the hype died down, now there was not a single mention of the boy hero and the population had moved on to cry for someone else to save them from the war and Voldemort's tyranny.
The world just kept turning without him.
To tell the truth it got on Severus' nerves, _how dare they expect so much of him and then leave him without a thought!?_ He tried to keep his calm though, he had much practice on that, especially recently.
The world outside the quiet, white room got steadily darker, the rainclouds showing no sign of relenting their gloomy drizzle. Severus got up and prepared to leave, sparing one last glance at the still boy before turning and leaving, his cloak flicking behind him. | 433a75f057d8495a869a2be1d430cf95 | ['b2bfa77b7d58493ab08d6b7473d0fe5c'] | Harry felt himself being pushed back on the bed and he wiggled into the middle without breaking the kiss, the two boys lay there for a while just kissing each other, soon Harry's confidence grew and he started running his hands over the older boy like he did when they snogged, in fact it felt just like that but they were laying down on a comfy bed rather than being pushed up against walls or crates in cold, hidden passageways.
Before Harry had even noticed it Tom had already opened his cloak, gotten rid of his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt and was laying kisses down his chest as his face flushed, they had only ever felt each other through and under clothing, and never below the waist. Kisses anywhere other than his face, neck and shoulders was new to him. Tom sat up and tugged at his clothing, getting the message Harry shrugged off his cloak and shirt, he was then pushed back onto the bed as Tom laid more kisses upon him.
Getting braver Harry moved his hands up and started removing Tom's cloak, tie, and shirt, the elder complying and shrugging them off once Harry's part of the job was done before descending upon the smaller boy again. The two went back to mere kisses and touches, leaving their pants alone as their bare-chested bodies hugged each other close, kissing and feeling the newly exposed territory.
Harry moved his hands down to Tom's pants as the other continued lavishing his chest in kisses and touches, fumbling with the buttons Harry found it hard to remove the pesky article in the position they were in, after what felt like too long he finally had them undone and started pulling them down, Tom had stopped what he was doing, lifting himself up on his hand on either side of Harry's head to watch as the younger pulled his pants down to his knees, revealing his y-front underwear and the very noticeable tent in them.
Harry blushed when he saw the bump, suddenly wondering how that thing would fit inside him if it looked so big while still hidden away. Entranced he ran a hand over the bump gently and, blushing further, looked up when Tom shuddered and let out a sound between a hiss and a moan. The older boy dropped his head again to stare at Harry, the look in his eyes so intense Harry's breathing momentarily hitched. The moment was over quickly as Tom backed off from Harry to kick his pants of entirely, taking off his shoes and socks in the process. Noticing he was still wearing his as well Harry kicked his shoes off too, not caring where they landed, and started pulling on a sock when he was, almost roughly, pushed back against the pillows again.
Looking up Harry saw Tom holding him down with a hand on his chest, that same intense look in his dark eyes, when it seemed he was sure Harry would not move he let up the hand pinning Harry's chest and moved down, gently pulling his socks off for him and running a hand up Harry's leg as he came back up to Harry's hips and started unbuttoning the pants. Not sure what to do as Tom set to work on getting their clothing amount on the same level he contented himself to watch Riddles underwear, specifically the bulge in them that would twitch and move as the older boy did, thinking about what was soon to happen.
Harry moaned as a warm, gently pressure was rubbed up his crotch, only then noticing that Tom had finished removing his pants and was repaying the favour from earlier, and boy could Harry understand why Tom had moaned the way he did, being rubbed through his underwear seemed to be rather pleasurable.
The two started kissing again, hugging each other close and reveling in the feeling of their naked skin rubbing together, legs entangled and chests touching. Both boys moaned aloud when their crotches rubbed together, Harry wanted more and started bucking his hips to make them rub again, Tom merely moaned in response and Harry was sure he even said something in parseltongue.
Harry had only managed to make their cocks rub together like that a few times before Tom seemed to want more, sliding down Harry's legs again he hooked his fingers under Harry's y-fronts but made no further move, instead looking at Harry who got the point and nodded, giving Tom permission to take it further. Tom easily pulled the underwear down Harry's legs and flicked them away as if they were the most unimportant, useless thing he had ever seen in his life.
Leaning down Harry watched with a face on fire as Tom gripped his member in one of his warm hands, and boy did that feel so _very_ different from holding himself. Tom seemed to merely inspect the hard cock in his hand like it was some sort of potion he needed for a good grade in class, Harry squeaked in a most undignified manner when he saw Tom close in on his member, tongue coming out of his mouth and Harry had no doubts about what the older boy was going to do, and when that tongue made sweet, soft, slightly wet contact with his penis he practically howled in pleasure.
The tongue dragged up his member, from just above where Tom was gripping him to the head. Tom leaned back again for a moment, seeming to savour the taste, before going in to lick again, this time he flicked his tongue around the rim at the head of the cock and Harry nearly squealed in delight, writhing on the bed as Tom lapped at him. It was over all too soon though, with Tom backing off and sitting up.
Harry whined at the loss but Tom merely chuckled at him, "We don't want this to be over so soon do we?" |
05ab7cf25e2a48a4b9855a7474b41b23 | ['b2d9c2f674ce4d27b42f768115c4014e'] | Dangerous Feelings*
**Author's Note:**
> *only you consider these feelings dangerous Iori lol
“These feelings are dangerous,” Iori thought to himself in the bathroom.
On a rare whim, Iori would do his homework in the common room. It didn’t happen all that often, but a change in environment every now and again was nice.
(Mind you, everyone else had work or were running errands so it was more peaceful than normal.)
With a mug of hot tea and a slice of his brother’s cheesecake at his side, it was going to a pleasant afternoon working on math equations. It was utter perfection…
… Well, it would have been utter perfection if Iori. could. just. focus.
The cause of his frustrations sat across from him at the table, chewing on his pencil and puzzling over his math homework. Tamaki would normally do the bare minimum to get the points, but Mitsuki had promised to get pudding while at the grocery store if Tamaki promised to put more effort into his homework.
Normally, Iori would be pleased that Tamaki was finally putting effort into his work, but today, he just wanted to be able to get his math done without getting distracted by Tamaki’s sighs or his subtle movements or his face as it scrunched up over a particularly difficult problem.
Tamaki held his head in his hands and broke the silence with a muffled groan.
“What?” Iori asked.
Tamaki held up his workbook to the light and squinted at it as if the answer would somehow magically appear.
“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to subtract x from this side of the equation or try graphing the equation to find the points or use the special formula Sensei taught us or…" He babbled on in a stream of consciousness that was less trying to find the solution and more just getting his thoughts out of his brain with a frequent hand motion to punctuate his frustrations.
“ _Ah, he’s cute when he’s using his head like this_ ,” Iori thought, affection evident in his face as he rested his palm in his chin.
Iori just watched Tamaki’s face as he kept talking and, without realizing, his focus shifted to Tamaki’s mouth as he formed his words.
_“...I kind of want to-“_
The front door opened with a **bang** and a cheerful “I’m home!”
Mitsuki’s arrival home startled Iori out of his reverie and cut off Tamaki mid-sentence.
“Ah, welcome home Mikki,” Tamaki said.
“Man, there were so many good sales at the store, the fridge’ll be stocked for weeks,” Mitsuki said walking in with multiple bags on his arms.
“That’s great,” Iori said weakly.
Mitsuki went to put all the bags on the counter, but first paused in front of Tamaki.
“Oh it looks like you’ve been working hard. Good job Tamaki,” Mitsuki said, putting the bags down briefly before ruffling Tamaki’s hair.
He placed a chocolate pudding in front of him “Here, a promise is a promise! And there’s plenty more where that came from.” “Woah! It’s the limited edition choco pudding with strawberries!”
Tamaki grinned, eager to dig in and relieved to take a break.
“Mikki, you’re the best!”
Tamaki tore the wrapper off immediately, forgetting that he needed a spoon, but he merely shrugged and grabbed the one Iori was using for his cake.
“Hey-!”
“Thanks Iorin!”
“You know,” Mitsuki said, smirking at his younger brother, “that was kind of like an indirect kiss.”
It took Iori only 3 milliseconds to process his brother’s words before his face exploded with color.
“Iorin? Are you okay?” Tamaki said, spoon still in his mouth.
Iori stood very suddenly, chair scraping against the floor. “I-I-I have to use the bathroom,” he all but yelled and ran off.
**Author's Note:**
> AHH I will take my 'Iori-doesn't-know-how-to-feelings' headcannon to the grave. Thank you so much to bluecranes for beta-ing for me!
>
> This is my first i7 fic, I hope I did these boys justice! Follow me LINK if you'd like. | 1a6765a448a749e69f36fd2ad57e03bb | ['b2d9c2f674ce4d27b42f768115c4014e'] | Yamato looked out of the corner of his eye as the man-dragon-whatever put on his shoes when another realization hit him.
_‘Wait ... this isn’t a dream, is it?’_
Yamato swiveled his head around to look at his clock.
8:45.
His shift started at 9:00.
Panic replaced the guilty feeling in Yamato’s stomach as he ran to catch the stranger.
“Hey!”
The stranger turned around from where he stood in the doorway, sunlight illuminating him.
Yamato all but yelled, “can you fly?!”
The stranger was confused. “Yes, of cour-”
Yamato interrupted him. “I’m gonna be late for work, can you fly me there?”
The dragon’s face brightened as he grinned. “No problem!”
“THIS WAS AN AWFUL IDEAAAAAAAAAAA.”
“Hm, did you say something Yamato?” the stranger, now in his dragon form, looked back and questioned.
“YOU’RE SO DAMN FAST!” Yamato screamed from atop the dragon’s back.
The dragon didn’t respond.
As they flew through the clouds at a breakneck pace, the panicked feeling of potentially being late dissipated and was replaced with a feeling of calm.
Yamato pondered that night again, deep in thought.
“... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have some company,” he thought aloud.
The dragon jerked his head back around.
“Really!?”
“Oh, so you _can_ hear me.”
_And thus, started the life of one Nikaido Yamato and his dragon roommate._
**Author's Note:**
> This idea has been rolling around in my head since last year and I wanted to write it for 10/2, but never got around to it. I'm excited to see where it takes me!
>
> Thank you for reading and slam that kudos button if you enjoyed (⌒▽⌒)☆ |
f1c0a61c67674ebf861f2cafdbe6d3cb | ['b2f1dc54b93644aea8282979f0fce271'] | “Um, it’s still…” she said shyly. Michelle quickly caught on and advised accordingly, “I would recommend a sports bra, then, that should keep them contained, I use them all the time. Just remember my tips, it makes you run more efficiently as well as keeping your bust under control.” Yukana began to slow to a halt but Michelle’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a dangerous voice.
“U-umm, I just came here because Junichi had advice about the—” Yukana stammered.
“He also said you were worried about gaining weight, so start running.” Michelle hammered in some instructions on the treadmill. “I just programmed the treadmill to speed up and slow down every few minutes. You won’t be going full tilt all the time. This will build up your endurance and deal with belly fat… which I can’t really see.”
“Oh, come on! It’s there!” Yukana protested. “And why the sudden workout frenzy, anyway?”
“There will be no slacking in this gym. You paid for a workout, you’re getting your money’s worth.” Michelle left without another word, leaving Yukana to keep jogging. She watched the woman take her own shirt off to reveal the sports bra she had spoken of earlier. Yukana’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
Hooollllyyyy shit that woman was _ripped_! Yukana shook her head and decided to focus on the jogging.
It wasn’t quite the hell she was expecting, although she had to be careful not to fly off the treadmill when the speed changed. She wished she had her iPod for this. Oh, well. Watching Junichi beat the hell out of the punching bag. He looked pretty fit beneath that shirt of his. Wait, was that a six pack?
Yukana’s gawking almost led to her getting blown off the treadmill. She better focus on the workout.
00000000
Yukana groaned, sitting on the park bench. Junichi sat next to her, completely fine.
“That’s the last time I ever go to the gym with you.” Yukana complained.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Junichi protested. Yukana sniffed, “It’s a good thing they had showers, I can’t bear to think how bad we’d smell if they didn’t.” she then smiled, “Then again, I bet you’d love to see me all sweaty and panting, now would you?” she added teasingly, leaning forward to flash a generous amount of her cleavage.
Junichi blushed and turned away, smiling shyly.
“Stop that.” He grumbled. “This is better not be a thing.”
“Oh, it’s a thing alright.” Yukana replied. Junichi huffed, “Fine, I get teased, you get gym time.” Yukana considered backing out that very moment, but decided that teasing him was too funny.
“Deal,” she said. Sacrifices must be made after all. Besides, one day she might see what’s beneath that shirt. Yukana sighed, remembering what her friend had texted her about. She decided now was as good as any time to follow through with the instructions she received. “Hey… I just realized.” She said casually.
“Hmm?” Junichi grunted.
“We’ve been dating for two weeks now. We haven’t really been affectionate with each other yet.” Yukana pointed out. Junichi turned on the spot.
_‘Did she just… no, that can’t be right.’_ he thought. He arched a brow, “What do you mean?”
“I mean we never really kissed before, hm?” Yukana asked, her seductive side coming out. Junichi tilted his head. The girl had a point.
**“We’re taking this chance.”** His Id demanded.
_“Only if we have permission,”_ Superego replied. Junichi turned his body to face Yukana, who was leaning forward again. He stared at her, drinking her in like he did in the P.E. storage room. Something stirred in him. Something both familiar and yet not, and Junichi wasn’t sure if he liked that feeling.
“You can kiss me now, if you like.” Yukana grinned. “Come on, now. I don’t bite.” She started crawling towards him slowly. Junichi felt himself back away, but he wasn’t sure if he was denying Yukana or the sensation stirring in his chest.
_‘What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel this way?’_ he thought. He didn’t just want to kiss her, this sensation demanded more. It wanted to tear away her clothes and take her as its own, it wanted her to scream Junichi’s name, it wanted to feel every inch of her beautiful body. It wanted all those things. This wasn’t mere Id, but something much deeper.
Yukana crept closer, not noticing the internal battle inside Junichi. Her lips were a few inches from Junichi’s.
“We’re… we’re in public.” He tried to protest.
“Does it matter?” Yukana breathed. He was about to lean in and give in to this feeling when she suddenly drew back. “Times up!” she declared. “That was boring of you, Junichi. After all that talk about how beautiful I was and now you crumble? Disappointing!” she got off the bench and began walking away. “C’ya!” she waved a hand.
Junichi stared, his mouth agape for a few seconds before it closed with a click of teeth on teeth. His eyes narrowed.
_‘There is no way in hell she’s going to get away with that shit!’_ he mentally growled, his internal beast taking over his thoughts. He got up and quickly followed her, closing the distance between them. Yukana heard Junichi approach and turned, her eyes going wide in alarm as Junichi closed in. He swept her up, one arm wrapping around her waist, his hand reached up and lightly grabbed her chin.
“Junichi, what…?” Yukana stammered.
“If you’re going to make a proposition like that, you best be prepared to follow through with it.” Junichi purred. Yukana opened her mouth to protest, but Junichi used that to make his move. His lips enveloped hers, silencing whatever protest she was attempting at the time. He didn’t use tongue, which came as both a relief and a disappointment. After a few seconds he released her, smiling devilishly. | c9355e4f0b514c41931c7dbd6bfb155e | ['b2f1dc54b93644aea8282979f0fce271'] | A chorus of ‘ooh’s sounded through the store as more people started paying attention to the stand-off. Koichi sneered at Yukana.
“Do you even know what insulin is?” he asked. Yukana’s eyes narrowed, she levelled a bored stare at Koichi.
“Insulin is the chemical that is secreted from the pancreas to convert glucose into energy or store it for later use, thus maintaining the body’s blood sugar levels. Got any other pop quizzes for me, or can we actually start now?”
In the space of that single sentence Yukana won the respect of every gamer barring Koichi there. People chuckled as Yukana answered the question. Despite her looks, she kept her grades at an acceptable standard, and didn’t shy away from studying.
“Aww, the girl thinks she’s clever. That smug demeanour won’t last. I bet you don’t know the first thing about playing this game!” Koichi snorted.
“We’ll see about that, Free Willy.” Yukana said as she walked away. Junichi smiled, “That’s my girl.”
00000000
When everyone was sat down, Yukana found herself staring at Keigo.
“So, is this your first time playing or…?” he asked.
“Admittedly I got started yesterday, but I was pretty curious to see what the fuss was about. It’s not a bad way to pass the time, but I have to admit it’s not my top five.” Yukana explained.
“Eh, that’s fair enough.” Keigo shrugged. “Well, let’s start.” He took out his deck and placed it on the deck section.
“Ah, hold on, I need to shuffle mine. Give me a sec.” Yukana requested, quickly putting on her glasses before she got her cards.
“Sure, take your…” Keigo trailed off when he saw Yukana shuffling her cards like a professional dealer. “…time.” He finished lamely. Yukana didn’t notice the blonde boy as her hands shuffled the cards so quickly they began to blur. When she judged that the cards were shuffled enough she slammed the deck down into the deck section with a look of determination on her face, her glasses shining with reflected light.
“Let’s rock.” She said in a voice that reverberated with draconic power. Keigo gulped and drew his cards.
Junichi on the other hand wasn’t having as good as a time, considering he was playing against Koichi. The overweight otaku sneered at him behind his cards.
“I set down two face downs and summon Infernal Dragon in attack mode. End turn.” He said, then not two seconds before after speaking he cackled, “And now I activate my trap card! Deck Devastation Virus, I send the Dragon to the graveyard and any monsters you have in your hand, field or any you draw get sent to the graveyard!”
_‘I fucking hate the Lair of Darkness.’_ Junichi growled internally, sending his Heavy Mech and Cannon Soldier to the graveyard.
“So answer me something,” Koichi began, an unpleasant grin on his face. “Why did you bring your girlfriend here? Did you want to parade her around or something? I mean I really don’t think that any girl looking like that would want to play here.”
“Any girl like that, or just girls in general?” Junichi asked nonchalantly, drawing an Ancient Gear Golem, showing it to Koichi.
“Oh, come now. I’m just stating facts, women aren’t meant to play this, just like they don’t play other games like D&D.” Koichi stated like it was an actual fact.
“Okay, first off, Yu-Gi-Oh doesn’t specify that only guys can play, and second off there’s a gaming club in my school, half of the members are girls and they had a D&D evening two days ago. I activate Terraforming—”
“And I activate Curse of Darkness, taking a thousand life points away.”
“—and then break out Geartown.”
“Another one thousand. And seriously, pretty girls like her don’t belong here.”
“Oh, so it’s just pretty girls now? Listen, as fun as it would be to poke holes in your misogynistic views, which may as well be a piece of Swiss cheese as it is, I’d rather finish this as soon as possible so I can limit my contact with you.”
“Ugh, fine. You’ll see soon enough.” Koichi assured. He looked up and saw Yukana walking to Rai. “Heh, looks like she’s given up already.” He predicted. Keigo ambled past, his eyes vacant.
“Hey, man, you okay?” Junichi asked.
“She kicked my ass.” Keigo whimpered. Koichi’s jaw dropped, and Junichi arched a brow.
“Oh, didn’t think she’d take to her deck that fast, how’d she do it?” Junichi asked. Koichi had his sneer back, assuming that she probably made Keigo forfeit by flashing some cleavage.
“It started off fairly harmlessly, and Yame-san had two dragon monsters on the field, Decoy Dragon and Evilswarm Zahak, then she used Card Destruction and Trade In to get more cards and send some of her bigger monsters to the grave. I destroyed the Evilswarm, but Decoy Dragon special summoned Armed Protector Dragon with his ability, which ended up killing my monster. Then things really went to hell: she special summoned Red-Eyes Darkness Metal Dragon by discarding the Decoy Dragon, she then used Burst Breath to get rid of my monsters, sacrificing the Darkstorm Dragon. Then the Red-Eyes used its special ability to bring out Divine Dragon Lord Felgrand, which banished my Darkflare Dragon to get five hundred attack and defence points, and then used Foolish Burial. I tried to get my own back, using Different Dimension Reincarnation and Call of the Haunted to bring back my Darkflare and my Axe Dargonute to delay her for a bit, but then she used the Arkbrave Dragon’s special ability to bring itself into the because it was sent to the grave with Foolish Burial and destroyed both of the cards I used to keep my monsters alive, then she finished me off in one blow with all her monsters!” Keigo wailed.
“There, there, Keigo.” Junichi said soothingly, gently rubbing his friend’s back. |
e1b74527d06740f28389177338d762e8 | ['b2f61aa131484f3ebd3e792fc6af75e6'] | “I would never try to stop you,” Leo says, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “I'm going to let this go for now, but I want you to think about something while you're on the plane.”
“Think about what?” One more minute.
“You don't drop a grand on an international flight to get to your assistant at a moment's notice,” Leo says. “Not even for someone as good as she is. Not even if you (stupidly, might I add) think this is somehow your fault.”
“Leo,” Josh croaks. His heart is getting louder, louder, the thrum of it rushing through his skull. He can't seem to catch his breath.
“You just don't do this.” Leo's voice is impossibly weary. “Not unless—”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” chirps the gate agent. “We're about to begin the boarding process.”
“I have to go.” Josh hangs up without waiting, jumps to his feet.
_Thumpthumpthumpthump. Donna._
_**ooo**_
Much later, after the unbearable flight and waiting for Donna to wake up the first time and suffering through her new Irish boyfriend's smug face and silently praying his way through the surgery (not to mention navigating the bizarre covert ops mission Kate Harper had sent him on), Josh sits beside Donna's bed and tries to sleep. Well, close his eyes, really—just until the others are back. Good old Whatshisface had persuaded Mrs. Moss to let him take her to get something to eat in the hospital cafeteria, which even Josh had to concede wasn't an entirely stupid idea. It had taken reassurances from three doctors and one very patient nurse to convince Mrs. Moss that Donna would likely be unconscious for several hours yet, and that this was the best opportunity for a real meal before...well, before they would know anything, brain damage-wise.
“And if she does wake up,” Josh had said, “I'll have someone find you right away. I'll make sure Donna knows you're here.” Mrs. Moss had only been in Germany for seven and a half hours, but she had clearly been awake for several days; she'd been pale, shaky, unable to concentrate for longer than a few minutes. She'd asked questions over and over (like the answers would never sink in), waved off coffee, snacks, fresh clothes. She had refused to go to the hotel room Josh had booked for her, even to drop off her bag. If she hadn't eaten or stopped to catch her breath since Josh had called right after the accident, he wouldn't have been surprised. Josh grimaces now, thinking about Donna's mother's face. When he'd brought her into the room for the first time, she had just stared at Donna from the doorway, one hand on her mouth, the other clutching Josh's arm. He'd leaned into her grip, wouldn't let her fall, wouldn't let her even sway. It had been a solid five minutes before he could get her to a chair.
“I didn't think it would be like this,” Mrs. Moss had kept repeating in a very small voice. “God help me, I didn't think it would be like this."
Josh clenches his teeth, shakes himself a bit. This isn't helping, this obsessive play-by-play. It doesn't fix Donna. It doesn't fix a goddamn thing. He flips on the TV because anything has to be better than sitting here, listening to all the machines beep in time with Donna's ragged breathing. Anything has to be better than reliving the way she'd stared up at him from the operating table, that raw fear in her eyes, her hands trembling, holding up the notepad: _Scared._ Anything has to be better than wondering if Donna will even know who her mother is, who Josh is, who _she_ is, when she wakes up. If she wakes up.
_I can't do this without her._ Josh has thought it before, too many times to count, but it's different now. _This_ isn't work. _This_ is everything.
He should have said it, in the OR. He should have made sure she knew that she was more.
Two separate men have now told him, in a handful of days, that you don't just fly to Germany for your assistant—the implication being, of course, that Josh's feelings (whatever they are) are both more transparent and more complicated than he wants to admit. Stupid Whatshisface had looked so pleased with himself, too. What had he said again? _Tragically unconsummated love, kept at arm's length by puritanical American workplace ethics._ Josh swallows, stares blankly at the TV.
She's always been more.
Does Donna think like this about Josh, too? Had she felt this helpless after Rosslyn? He knows, vaguely, that she had worried, especially after one of his bad nights, but had she been this...lost? Josh doesn't think so. She'd seemed so capable to him back then, so put together. Josh can't imagine her falling apart beside his hospital bed. He had never asked everyone how she'd taken it, him getting shot, because Donna had just been herself. All business, at the ready with a thousand lists, a chart for his meds, half of her things in his apartment so she wouldn't have to leave him alone, a plan to help him work from home, a set of rules to keep the rest of them from asking too much of him, a schedule that stopped him from losing his mind (mostly) on the days he thought he'd never be able to dress himself again, let alone advise the President. Donna hadn't been scared. She had just shown up for work like always: determined, ready to help Josh however he needed. Ready to get it done. | be9240706d094e64bcbe2416fc963a55 | ['b2f61aa131484f3ebd3e792fc6af75e6'] | “I mean, he sleeps at his desk half the time. He's the only other person I've seen here past midnight on a weekend.”
“Well, I’ll just wait him out—he has to go home sometime! He has a wife, for God's sake. And would he really spend the night before his birthday holed up with the eight hundredth draft of the inaugural address? He's got Sam for that. No, I'll tellyou what Toby's night will look like: he's gonna pack up at a semi-decent hour and go to bed with a bottle of scotch. That’s what I’d do, if I was preparing for brunch with my hypothetical mother-in-law.”
“It's a wonder you're still single,” Donna snapped. She snapped very quietly, though, almost in Josh's ear. He probably shouldn't have enjoyed how close she had to lean in to do that, but then, there was nothing really wrong with liking being pressed up against a woman as pretty as Donna, was there? Nobody with a pulse should mind that.
“Donna.” Josh brought out the dimples, deciding to try for boyish charm. That often helped his cause. “I'm asking you, very nicely, to help me bring holiday cheer to a bitterly sad, tragically grouchy man who doesn't even want anyone to know it's his birthday. Think of how wastefulit would be if we let this opportunity pass us by.”
“You seem to have the impression I fell off the turnip truck on my way to Manchester—”
“I have no such impression.”
“Josh! Toby's going to kill you, and then he's going to kill _me_. You may have lived a long, full life, but I'm young, okay? I have things to do.”
“Hey! How old do you think I am?” Josh yelped, a little too loudly. Donna elbowed him firmly in the ribs.
“You don't know how to wrap things, do you?” she sighed. “That's why you're dragging me into this.”
Josh hoped the smile he flashed her was winning.
“Think of this as a public service,” Josh wheedled. “Think of this as my belated Hanukkah present. I swear, Donna, this will be the most excitement you'll have until we get to the White House. Transitions suck. It's all gonna be stacks of memos and...and boring meetings going over policy and Secret Service procedures with Leo...and, um, collating. So much collating. Don't you wanna do something _fun_?”
Donna peered at him, chewing on her lower lip. Josh hadn't ever realized how freckly she was before now. Then again, he also hadn't ever had much reason to be examining her nose from this precise distance or angle. Freckles, Josh had always thought, were vastly underrated.
“I hate you,” Donna finally announced, and then she was whipping around, marching off towards the door of his office.
“Does this mean you're in?” Josh called after her, because it didn't matter if Toby overheard that part. Donna turned, already halfway into the hall.
“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had.” When she smiled, Josh really couldn't help but smile back. “Of course I'm in.”
There was just one small condition.
********* **
It didn't seem likely that Donna had really thought she could eat quite so many orders of egg rolls—or that she'd needed to give the delivery guy a twenty dollar tip—but Josh had also paid more for less. There was something to be said for Donna's almost superhuman efficiency. Josh's perfect idea was going off without a hitch, and they'd only been working for forty-five minutes.
“So, what's your exit strategy?” Donna asked. She was now taking care of all the assorted knickknacks; the keyboard, computer monitor, chair, and desk itself had already been attended to. Donna had shown Josh how to use a pair of scissors to curl ribbon, so he was doing that, nervously trying not to slice his palm open.
“Huh?”
“What are you going to do to prevent Toby from committing first-degree murder on government property? I realize you've known him longer than I have, but I don't think this is quite his sense of humor.”
“You're generously assuming he has a sense of humor at all.” Josh finished with all the green ribbon and reached for the silver.
“That's exactly my point! Do you really think it's worth risking both of our lives over a practical joke—”
“This is _not_ a practical joke,” Josh cut in, offended. “Have some respect for our craft. This, Donna, is art. Wrapping paper is our medium. Toby is our muse.”
“I can't believe I agreed to this. I can't believe _you._ ”
“Never underestimate the dangers I will brave or the lengths to which I will go when it comes to screwing with Toby Ziegler,” Josh advised. “This knowledge will only serve you in the long run.”
Donna rolled her eyes, stuck a metallic gold bow on top of the now triple-wrapped rubber ball, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The whole thing truly was awe-inspiring, Josh thought. He wasn't too humble to admit it.
“All right,” Donna said. “Now, where did you leave the balloons?”
********* **
It paid to be friendly with the security guards. Ralph called Josh the second Toby entered the building on Wednesday morning, which gave Josh enough time to grab Donna and drag her into the storage closet at the end of the hall. It was convenient that C.J. was doing the morning shows, and that Sam had an early meeting on the Hill—Josh was certain they both would have had something awkward to say about that questionable maneuver. |
513c920fe1254afeba798e361d0bbc63 | ['b312a327b0914f5792cfb03ced8904cf'] | “He left,” Jin sniffled, tears rolling sideways across the bridge of his nose and soaking into the carpet. “He left me and he hasn’t come back.”
“Has he called?” Yoongi asks.
“Nope.”
“Texted?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Jin hiccups tearfully. “Probably Jimin’s. Jimin’s so nice. Why didn’t I fall in love with Jimin? He’s so nice and kind and good at comforting people. Doesn’t he have the cutest little face? I love that face. Yoongi, I think I’m in love with Jimin.”
“No, I don’t think you are,” Yoongi says, using his foot to pat Jin’s shoulder sympathetically.
“No, I’m not,” Jin whimpers, turning his face flush into the carpet. His words come out muffled, but unmistakably miserable. “Cuz I’m in love with Joon.”
He sighs.
“Jin. Seokjin. Kim Seokjin.” Yoongi sets his mug down and leans down to ruffle his hair. “Seokjinnie-yah.”
“What.” He doesn’t even lift his head from the carpet.
“Did it ever occur to you that Joon loves you too?” Yoongi asks patiently.
His tone doesn’t change. “Nope.”
Yoongi huffs. “Hey, did you even hear what I said?”
“I heard you,” Jin mumbles blankly. “You’re wrong, though.”
Yoongi scrunches up his face. “Yeah, that’s the thing, I don't think that I am.”
Jin actually sits up to face him, knees pulled to his chin. “He doesn’t love me, Yoongi.”
"How do you know?”
Jin’s gaze drops straight to the carpet and Yoongi watches a crimson flush spread from his neck up his cheeks and ears.
“Jin? How do you know?” he asks slowly.
“Because I tried to kiss him,” he blurts out. “And he wasn’t into it.”
An involuntary gasp is jerked out of Yoongi, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “What? Why didn’t I hear about it earlier?”
“Because it’s fucking embarrassing, Yoongi,” Jin snaps, his eyes glossy. “I tried to kiss Namjoon because I was drunk and he’s beautiful and he was _ not _ into it. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Have another drink,” Yoongi says absently, pouring one for him, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour.
Is it possible he was wrong about the whole situation? He can’t read Namjoon’s mind either, what if it was true? What if all the instances he read as Namjoon getting shy and flustered over Jin was actually embarrassment and awkwardness? Yoongi’s stomach swooped at the thought. Maybe Namjoon really had gone that night to let Jin down gently after Yoongi broke the news.
But–but he’d been so certain. He thought he was so smart.
“I think...I owe you an apology,” Yoongi mumbles. “This–this might be my fault.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Jin says glumly. “You can’t change how Joon feels about me.”
Yoongi takes a deep breath. “No, I’m serious. Last night, I was the one who sort of told him about how you felt. Or, I didn’t say exactly, but I made an implication, and told him to go talk to you.”
Jin stares at him for a long moment, silent. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing.
“Jin?” Yoongi asks meekly, hiding his face behind the mug.
“Don’t you think,” Jin starts, his voice high and quivering, “–that if I _wanted_ Namjoon to know how I felt, I would have told him myself?”
“Yes, and I’m so sorry,” Yoongi says regretfully. “I never should have meddled, but I was tired of seeing you being in pain, I thought if I just gave him a push–,”
“How could you do that, Yoongi?” Jin asks, his voice breaking as he searches Yoongi’s face, eyes bright with betrayal. He slams his mug down on the coffee table. “How could you just decide my life was for you to meddle with?”
“I didn’t mean to, Jin, I didn’t think it would go this way,” Yoongi pleaded. “I thought I was doing the right thing!”
“The right thing? This is your fault!” Jin yelled, neck tendons straining as he jumped to his feet. “You decided to play god and tell Namjoon about secrets I trusted you with! And now he’s gone because of you and your fucking smartass decision!”
Yoongi stumbles to his feet. “Jin, I’m really sorry, I made a mistake, alright? But you were so sad all the time, I just wanted to–,”
_ “Get out.” _
He blanches. “What?”
“Get out of my flat,” Jin says in a low voice, his face blank with rage. “You need to _leave_ , Yoongi.”
His jaw actually drops. In all the years he and Jin have been friends, they’ve never ever fought like this. “Jin, stop, c’mon,” he said. “C’mon, don’t be–,”
“GET OUT!” Jin screams, snatching the mug from his hands, rum sloshing everywhere.
Except that makes it slippery, and his grip isn’t quite right in his reckless anger, and the mug slips from his hands. The sound of shattering ceramic deafens Yoongi, like a bomb exploding. They both stare at the destroyed remains for a moment.
“Well, that’s just great!” Jin cries hysterically, dropping to his knees. He can barely pick up the shards, his hands are shaking so bad. He doesn’t make a move to throw them away, shoulders wracking with the force of his silent sobs.
“Jin.” Yoongi reaches for him.
“Just go,” he pleads desperately, curling away from his touch. Tears drip down his ruddy cheeks. “Please just leave, Yoongi, you’ve done enough.”
Like a zombie in a haze, he nods dumbly and turns to shuffle out the door. Yoongi doesn’t really remember what happens next, but he somehow appears back at his and Hoseok’s flat. It's like his heart is lagging, and instead of feeling hurt or ripped apart, he just feels confused and not quite processing.
His phone buzzes, and he checks it on frozen autopilot.
**Hobi:** You’re coming to Jimin’s New Years party
**SuGa:** I am?
**Hobi:** yep :)
**Hobi:** I’m bringing someone special I want you to meet
**Hobi:** I know you’re gonna love her <3 | d303c0a5f225430c8db6dc0099865e97 | ['b312a327b0914f5792cfb03ced8904cf'] | **Hobi:** I do
That breaks him out of his trance.
Yoongi throws his phone across the room and slides down to the floor. He screams until his throat is hoarse.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> wowie, this was a rough ride.
>
> Thinking of doing a Namjin sequel when I'm done with this book chronicling their side of the story.
> Thoughts???
15. gutted
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This is his essence, a raw, unfiltered piece that slices his chest open and bares everything inside for the world to see. It’s dangerous, but he needs it. He needs not to carry all of this hidden burden by himself anymore.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Publishing a little earlier than usual, but I had this pre-written anyway. I didn't actually plan on this being a whole chapter, so it may cause the chapter count to shift, but I'm not quite sure yet. I think we'll be ok.
>
> Anyway, please enjoy! This one is less angsty than last chapter, but fear not, we'll get right back into it next week ;)
It takes Yoongi a while to pick up his pieces.
After he rereads Hoseok’s texts, he physically can’t seem to breathe with the force of his panic, and it takes an hour of sitting in absolute silence, staring into nothing with tears drying on his cheeks before he can even think about moving.
He leaves his phone exactly where it is and goes straight into his room. He hasn’t made music since his senior year in high school, but he opens his laptop and begins crafting a beat.
He picks something heavy, like a kick to the chest, something that rattles in the depths of him. Something that feels like ripping him apart.
And then he opens his notebook and begins to write a rap.
He’s rusty. God, he’s really rusty, but despite his lack of practice, old skills come back into his mind as he starts to write. Words jumbled with emotion start to flow out of him, filling up pages and pages. He writes at least eight pages too much, but it feels good. It feels therapeutic.
He writes pages about the way the sun shines and slow-dancing in the dark and a neon world. He writes about longing and birds and angels with halos made of hope. He writes all the beautiful pain that’s been plaguing him for the last few months until his hand cramps up and he has to force himself to stop.
Once it’s all laid out on the page, he feels better, he feels light. Like gutting a pumpkin, all the messiness inside him has been scooped out and put on the pages so he isn’t weighed down with it. He feels better.
But he’s not done.
He starts editing what he’s written, cutting a line here, changing a phrase here. He slices useless words aside, until he’s left with a perfectly-cut gemstone of a rap. Honestly, he’d probably written more technically advanced pieces back in his prime, but he knows he can say for sure that he’s never written anything as straight from the heart as this.
This is his essence, a raw, unfiltered piece that slices his chest open and bares everything inside for the world to see. It’s dangerous, but he needs it. He needs not to carry all of this hidden burden by himself anymore.
He’s miraculously still got his microphone with him in the flat, even though he hadn’t taken it out since he first moved in, two years ago. He has to stand on a stepstool to reach the dusty box on the top shelf of the closet, but it’s there in one piece, and he sets it up with old practice.
Recording it is a whole other ordeal. He can’t be satisfied with the way he delivers it, and does countless takes, just repeating phrase after phrase until his head is swimming with the words. Still, he doesn’t stop. Like a man possessed, he’s fixated on his singular goal of finishing the song. He can’t rest until he does.
Hoseok’s left a six pack of Redbull in the fridge, which he chugs even though it literally tastes like the reason God abandoned this world, and keeps going. When he runs out of Redbull, he starts brewing instant coffee, the shitty powder kind you just dump in boiling water like Swiss Miss. The kind of coffee only someone truly desperate will drink.
He finally gets the rap recorded, and begins going back to layer sounds and round out the song. It still feels empty, just a bare rap over a beat. It needs something extra. But even after he adds the sounds he wants, he isn’t satisfied.
“It’s missing something,” he mumbles aloud to himself. “What is it missing?”
A sudden knock on the door makes him jump and he goes to answer it, shoulders tense.
“Jungkook?” he asks, puzzled when he locks eyes with his dongsaeng.
“Yoongi, thank god.” The younger boy wraps him up in a tight hug. “We thought you died.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Well, it’s been two days since anyone’s heard from you, and you haven’t been answering your phone,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious, coming in. “Naturally, we assumed the worst.”
He blinks hard, half-believing he’s hallucinating. “Sorry, back up, did you say two days?”
“Yeah, it’s been two days, hyung,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly, yanking back the blackout curtains. Light floods the room and Yoongi flinches away from it. “Also, what the fuck? Stop ignoring our calls, we were worried!”
“Phone’s dead.” He glances at it, still in the exact same place he left it.
“Then charge it,” Jungkook chides, squatting down to retrieve it and plug it into the charger stuck in the kitchen outlet. “So, let me guess, you went into the vampire workaholic mode, disappeared into your cave, and lost track of time?”
“Pretty much,” Yoongi says. “It’s been two days?” |
8aebd3176d5440fbb3497e5ab4a87e2d | ['b33cae06d6144ce6aaa898144f349dba'] |
I Promise You Can Top
Liam supposes it's a classic case of his being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They're all drunk when it happens. Not drunk enough that they're not fully aware of what's going on - just drunk enough that they can blame it on the booze if they have to. Liam isn't even 100% sure _how_ one thing led to another to lead them here, sitting on a grimy bed during a rager, with Louis hovering over them, a wry smirk settled on his lips.
"Gentlemen." he says, nodding curtly. "I have a proposition for you."
"What?" Harry asks, scrunching his brow in a distrustful expression. This only makes Louis' smirk widen. He carefully slinks his way closer to the bed, positioning himself between Liam and Harry and throwing one leg over Liam's thigh.
"Well, we're all a wee bit bored," he purrs, touching Harry's chin with gentle fingers, "and a wee bit lonely..." Liam shakes his head ferociously - no way. No, no way.
"Oh, I see Payno isn't up for what I'm suggesting." Louis licks at the corners of his mouth, and jostles his leg, causing Liam's member to twitch involuntarily. "But his little friend seems to be."
"You can't possibly be getting at...what you're getting at." Liam responds with an audible gulp.
"Oh, but aren't I?" Louis replies, then scans his eyes across Harry's face. He seems intrigued. It seems only Liam's a problem. "It doesn't make you 'gay,' if that's your worry."
"It's not, it's just - well, we're not - _I'm_ not gay. But, it's just - we're best mates, that's weird." Louis looks Liam up and down, scanning him, before slowly standing up. Liam gets the shivers as Louis places two hands on Liam's knees, face dangerously close to Liam's own - he can feel the hot breath from Louis' mouth hovering over his.
"No one has to know." Louis promises, rubbing one hand up and down Liam's thigh methodically, causing Liam to start breathing more heavily. He may not be gay, but it's been awhile since he's had sex and, well, who could blame him for the heat burning in the pit of his belly at a touch? "Besides, you can top."
Liam looks around at Harry; he's given a nod of approval. Liam looks back at Louis, and before he can muster up a disgruntled "fine," Louis snaps his fingers in Harry's direction, beckoning him over. Harry gets up and stands next to Louis, before Louis whispers softly in his ear, "You two. Now." He presses a hand against the small of Harry's back, pushing him forward. Liam's breath hitches as Harry suddenly straddles him on the bed, two limber legs wrapped finely around Liam's waist, and two strong hands at Liam's sides.
It doesn't take Harry long to push his tongue down Liam's throat. Their kisses are slobbery and slippery, with Harry's fat tongue wiggling its way into Liam's mouth. Liam tries to kiss back, but instead just ends up swallowing what Harry forces into him, despite how un-sexy the slurping noises make it.
Harry begins rocking on Liam's lap, causing the second boy to moan. Their cocks shift together, rubbing up against one another through the fabric of their jeans. Liam's got a tight fist in Harry's curls, groaning Harry's name into his mouth. Harry moves his hips back and forth rhythmically - Liam could swear he's done this before.
Harry pops off of Liam to rip his shirt up over his shoulders. Liam gazes lustily at Harry's chest before bending forward to suck on Harry's exposed nipple. Harry moans as he grabs Liam by the neck and pops him off, commanding the latter boy take his own shirt off. Liam readily does so, and after grabs Harry by his sides and flips him over onto the bed. He straddles Harry's hips, rocking, as he begins to remove his sweats.
"No." Louis' voice tears into Liam's reverie, and Liam stops, but not without reluctance. Louis approaches the two of them, tearing his own shirt off as he does so. "You don't call the shots here, Liam. I do. You only do what I say you can."
"Oh, for Christ's - " Liam begins, but Louis shushes him quickly. Harry stares up at the two of them, panting.
"Undo his pants first." Louis commands, and so Liam does. He quickly undoes Harry's pants and slides them off his legs, and then the same with his underwear. Harry's cock is twitching almost violently, and he lays on the bed, completely exposed. "Now suck him off."
"Wait a minute, you said - " Liam begins, before Louis smacks him on the back of the head.
" _Do it_." Somehow, the dominance in Louis' tone makes Liam harden. So he does as Louis commands.
Liam shifts his weight so his head is hovering above Harry's cock. His ass is thrust up into the air, and the rest of his body curled inwards, but his mouth is steady over Harry. He has to count to three before he can muster up the courage to do it, but then he's got his mouth wrapped around Harry's cock. Harry moans audibly as Liam sucks, up and down, Harry's tip teasing at the edge of Liam's right cheek. He's damn near choking, Liam is, but Louis hasn't told him to stop, so he won't. He pumps his mouth over Harry's cock, swirling his tongue expertly around it. It tastes positively salty, and somehow the feeling of it thriving between Liam's lips is nothing short of delicious. | 60444fbaff2e48adb0044630313d1b0f | ['b33cae06d6144ce6aaa898144f349dba'] | Louis travels to where Liam's got his ass thrust up into the air. His sweatpants are already falling down, and his underwear is exposed. Liam feels the sharp pain of a smack to his ass, and yelps around Harry, but continues his duty. Louis responds to the yelp with another slap to Liam's ass, before tugging the underwear down. He gropes Liam's ass with two large hands, feeling the sculpt of his cheeks and massaging rhythmically. Liam groans at the touch as Louis does this, and before Liam knows it, Louis' got his hips up against them. Louis pants are still on, so it's nothing more than just grinding on fabric, but Louis commands Liam rock his hips and so Liam obeys. With a cock between his lips and another threatening to be between his cheeks, Liam feels the heat and pressure of his hard-on positively bursting.
Then Louis stops, and Liam hears him undoing his belt. He hears the shift of pants dropping, and then feels the heat of Louis' weight above him. He remembers what Louis promised, promised he could top, but Louis is full of empty promises. He feels Louis' dick rubbing against his cheeks, and resists the temptation to beg around Harry's cock, which is already starting to leak into his mouth.
"Harry, get up." Obediently, Harry removes himself from Liam, scooting to the other side of the bed, his fingers dangling over his member. He wants to jack himself off, to finish the job, but Louis hasn't told him he could yet. Liam sees tears in Harry's eyes at the pain, but his fingers stay put.
"Harry, you watch." Louis growls, then presses the tip of his dick against Liam's entrance. Liam moans. "Liam, you beg."
"Oh, god, Lou," Liam whines, "just do it."
" _Beg_." Louis commands, harshly and hotly. Liam shudders.
"Oh, god, fuck me, fuck the living daylights out of me." he begs, and it sounds so honest. He wants this so badly. Louis begins pressing into him, fingers clenched on Liam's sides. Liam knows he'll have bruises by morning he won't be able to explain properly to Zayn or Niall. "Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me."
"Daddy?" Louis chuckles darkly. "I like that. Keep it coming."
"Daddy, I've been a bad boy, I need you to fuck me hard." Liam gasps as Louis presses all of his dick into Liam's entrance, and continues. "Put that nice dick inside me, Daddy."
Louis thrusts hard into Liam, and Liam gives a shout. The smaller boy ruts against Liam, methodically pumping himself in and out. He laughs at Liam's cries of ecstasy, at Liam's dirty talk.
"Gonna cum so hard inside of you," Louis breathes, "Gonna fill you up with my seed like the little bitch you are. Who's a bitch?"
"I'm your bitch," Liam says, teeth grinding as Louis grinds into him. He looks over at Harry, who is pumping his own dick with his own fingers, his eyes locked on what's happening before him.
"My _bitch_!" Louis screams, loud enough Liam's surprised the neighbors' lights don't flicker on. "You're my fucking bitch, Liam, and Daddy's gonna fuck you til you cum. You're gonna scream when I fuck you, in your tight little boy-pussy." His thrusts get harder as Liam begins to push against him, his ass grinding against Louis' dick. The friction burns against his backside, and his dick is twitching madly.
"I'm gonna cum now, Lou," Liam screams, "I'm gonna - "
"Harry!" Louis commands, and suddenly Harry's cock is down Liam's throat, thrusting just as hard in his mouth as Louis' thrusting in his back. They seem to move in harmony as Liam moans, and soon he's spilling himself all over the bed sheets. Louis screeches when he comes, all inside Liam, and Harry comes soon after, his semen blasting down Liam's throat before he can even contemplate whether he wants to spit or swallow.
The three of them flop back over then, breathing hard and hot. Louis' positively glistening, and not just from the sweat.
"So what d'you, say, Payno," Louis breathes seductively into Liam's ear, "Is there gonna be a next time for this?"
Liam's breathing is ragged. "Fuck _please_." |
53df49b6461f4c5898684890d4af9eda | ['b3490a6e17c94790a7fc87f5d4ea69a5'] | "Thanks, Kowalski," Vecchio said, and Ray could feel him smile when he went to kiss him again. That was very good, hot and urgent and Vecchio's body was hard and Ray suddenly wanted something to press against so he pushed Vecchio back again towards the wall--nicely, this time--and put his thigh between Vecchio's legs and that was _very_ good, and right when Ray decided to take off Vecchio's shirt and suggest they move somewhere else, Vecchio said, "So, you and Fraser?"
Ray pulled way, his hips still pressed tight against Vecchio's, and said bluntly, "You have the worst timing in the history of ever. What the fuck?" he asked suspiciously. "Don't you remember how annoying it is when chicks do this, start asking these kinds of questions in the middle of things?"
'oeYou just did it a minute ago, idiot.' Vecchio reached up and put his fingers on Ray's mouth, and said " _Shhh,_ " in a way that shouldn't be sexy but kind of was.
Apparently, Ray's type across genders was _impossible_ and _kind of bossy_ , so Ray just sucked on Vecchio's fingers. He was kind of smug when he saw how it took Vecchio a few seconds to make himself talk.
"Like I said, Benny is my best friend. I don't want--he's--that is, I-- _God_ , fuck, Kowalski," Vecchio moaned, and Ray grinned like a shark and tongued Vecchio's fingers with renewed vigor. "So?" Vecchio asked, panting.
Ray released Vecchio's fingers from his mouth and pressed against him again, harder, shifting so that he made Vecchio gasp, which was a pretty good sound and he wanted to hear more of it. Definitely wanted to hear that more than he wanted to have this conversation, which was awkward even _without_ Vecchio's cock hard against his hip.
"No." And because Ray just _knew_ Vecchio was going to ask, "Why?", he went ahead and answered. 'oeI could never tell if he was into guys at all. Or, fuck, maybe I just couldn't tell if he was into _me_. Or maybe he just never pissed me off enough, Vecchio, can we stop talking now and get on with this? Save the talking about our feelings for, I don't know, _never_?" Kowalski winced when he realized that came out as way more of a whine than he meant it to.
Vecchio actually laughed. "Sure, Kowalski." His hands were on Ray's hips now, moving, and _oh_ , that was right, that was good, this was _much_ better than talking. They kept kissing until Ray couldn't breathe and he put his mouth on Vecchio's neck, his hand going down and unfastening Vecchio's pants, pulling his zipper down and sliding inside his boxers, wrapping his fingers around Vecchio's cock. Vecchio made a sound, a low sort of growl, and Ray jerked him off while he rubbed himself against Vecchio's thigh. Vecchio's fingers were tightening on his hips and he was saying things like, _God, yes--yes-_ and making other noises that didn't end up in actual words, and Ray was moving, pushing his hips faster while he jerked Vecchio's cock hard and sure, rubbing the tip with his thumb, finding a rhythm.
He kept it up until he could tell Vecchio was close, then he growled, "Come on," roughly, and Vecchio shuddered and gasped and came all over Ray's hand. Ray was close and he was thinking about taking Vecchio's hand and putting it in his jeans or at the very least on his cock _through_ his jeans, but he wasn't sure he could stop what he was doing long enough to actually manage that. And it turned out not to matter anyway, because Vecchio suddenly grabbed Ray by the hair and then leaned down and _bit him_ on the neck, hard enough to make Ray jerk and groan and come with one last, frantic push of his hips. He stayed pressed against Vecchio for a moment and then pulled back, and he'd be embarrassed that he'd just come while he was still _dressed_ , for fuck's sake, but he was too fucked-out to care.
He was mildly worried that he might have a post-sex Vecchio freak-out to deal with, but Vecchio just reached out and ran his fingers through Ray's hair, which was actually kind of nice. "Is that how you get it to look like that?" he asked, and Ray snorted and pulled away, his hand sticky and his jeans wet, feeling like a million bucks.
"Ha, ha." Ray smiled, slow and easy, and said, "Hey, I'm gonna clean up." Vecchio, of course, looked flushed and a little rumpled but still pretty put together, like he hadn't just gotten a hand job against a wall. Ray, on the other hand, knew he looked messy and like he _had_ , but Vecchio's eyes were hot as he looked at him, so, maybe it wasn't a problem, maybe Ray made _frantic wall sex_ a fashion statement or something.
When Ray came back out into the living room, Vecchio was back on the couch, shouting at the Hawks' terrible fucking defense as he absolutely should, drinking another beer. There was an Old Style on the table, unopened, and Ray thought he could probably get used to this--hot sex and sports and beer, hey, what's not to like about that? He sat next to Vecchio and opened his beer, putting his bare feet on the table, settling back against the cushions.
At the commercial, Vecchio turned to him and said, "So, was that just a one-time--I mean, were you--" and Ray groaned and hit Vecchio on the back of the head.
"Don't be a girl, Vecchio," Ray snorted, and Vecchio hit _him_ in the back of the head for that, but he did look kind of worried, so Ray leaned over and kissed him, which involved climbing half on Vecchio's lap because that was just how he did things. | 6e4c3ecba37c49ec88e8c7c9292aa845 | ['b3490a6e17c94790a7fc87f5d4ea69a5'] | "Perhaps we could do something to entertain ourselves!" Fraser's voice, bright and chipper, and _he_ kept looking out the window and smiling happily, as if the snowfall was some kind of present just for him. He'd been so happy that morning after they'd gotten out of bed, that he'd stood naked at the window in their bedroom, looked outside, and _beamed_. That's when Kowalski and Ray knew it was bad; Fraser always looked disappointed at the snowfalls in Chicago, like it was an appetizer before a meal that never came. If he was actually beaming, then they had a problem. The steak dinner had arrived, complete with baked potato.
Kowalski's eyes brightened at Fraser's suggestion--Kowalski was insatiable, God--and he grinned that slow, ruthless grin of his. "Yeah?" he asked, tilting his head, and Fraser smiled back, but when Kowalski tried to walk over to where Fraser was standing, his stupid socks slid on the hardwood and he stumbled, flailing madly, barely managing to catch himself on the sofa. "Fuck."
Ray's laughter pretty much ruined the mood.
"What we need, gentlemen, is something to occupy our minds, keep our senses sharp as we weather the storm. You know, my grandmother used to tell a story--" Fraser began, segueing into one of his Inuit stories, as sincere and faintly unbelievable as always. This one was about playing "find the Caribou nose" or something equally fantastic in a cabin the size of their bathroom.
"That'd be real hard," Ray said, casting his eyes upwards. "What'd that take you, six minutes?" Kowalski snorted in agreement. But Fraser was getting that _look_ , so Ray said quickly, "We do have some board games." _Why_ they had board games, he wasn't sure, but they were in the bottom of the closet in the guest room, beneath a box filled with some of Kowalski's "stupid records" and one box of Ray's "prissy shoes." They were probably there for the kids when they came to visit, though Kowalski entertained children far better than board games, probably because he acted like one half the time.
"I'm not playing _Perfection_ ," Kowalski said adamantly.
"It does tend to make you nervous," Fraser agreed.
"Everything makes Kowalski nervous." Ray rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "And we're not playing _Trouble_ , that one just makes him mad."
"Because your niece _cheats_ , Vecchio--"
"She's _seven_ , Kowalski. And double-no to _Sorry_ , not after we tried playing it on that stakeout when we were in that hotel room for sixteen hours."
" _That_ one was all you, Vecchio," Kowalski interrupted, and then started smirking. "I can't believe you drew your _gun_ \--"
Ray shot him a look--that was one of the Things That Happened At Work That We Skim Over When We Tell Our Mutual Boyfriend About Our Day--and the penalty for divulging those things was steep. "Dishes for a week," Ray snapped, but Kowalski was grinning in that way he had, the one that suggested he didn't care because getting Ray in trouble was worth a week of dishes. "And Dewey could have _won_ , he didn't need to knock my guy all the way back to home just to be an asshole. Fucker." Just remembering that made Ray want to punch someone. Preferably Kowalski for bringing it up.
Fraser went into the guest room-slash-office and came back out with two games stacked on top of each other, "We have two, once we've eliminated the games that make Ray nervous and angry, and Ray want to draw his firearm in a way that is completely morally wrong, in a way that is counter to everything his shield stands for." He gave Ray a serious look, teetering _just_ on the edge of disappointed, and Ray vowed to kick Kowalski's ass at whatever game it was they ended up playing and _then_ do it for real, later. " _Trivial Pursuit_ and _Monopoly_."
"Uh-uh." Kowalski said darkly. "Not _Trivial Pursuit_. I fucking hate that game. No way."
"Ray," Fraser said, a small frown between his brows, "The pursuit of trivial knowledge can, at times, be the very thing that saves you in circumstances beyond your control. For example, that time in Canada when we found ourselves on thinning ice with those enraged mother seals, I knew what to do _only_ because the answer to our problem was a clue in a crossword puzzle I once filled out while--"
"Fraser, the less we say about that, the better," Kowalski interrupted, pulling off his gloves and tossing the pair to the floor in the corner, vaguely near the bedroom, and _that_ earned _him_ the somewhat-disapproving look. Kowalski wasn't nearly as messy as Ray'd thought he'd be, but Kowalski had _problems_ with clothing and putting it places where clothing was supposed to go. Ray, finally tired of trying to find his clothes amidst the sea of Kowalski's t-shirts shoved on the top shelf of the closet, raining down in a parade of cheap cotton and garish screen-printed designs, moved his stuff to the guest room and pretended not to notice when some of Fraser's things began appearing on hangers, seeking refuge.
"Lemme just tell you how this is gonna go," Kowalski said, standing sock-footed and pedantic in the living room, and Ray was torn between thinking he looked ridiculous and kind of oddly adorable. "Fraser will get all the questions right, but then piss us off"--here, he indicated Ray and himself--"when he finds _wrong answers_ on the questions, like he did when we tried to play the last time--"
"--I just do not see how fact checking should be that _hard_ ," Fraser said, a bit stuffily. "And that's not really _why_ ospreys do that with fish when they catch them. In point of fact, the aerodynamic--" |
13264406cabc4bd2910b36115e5e1e3a | ['b34e8e220492463d9a7e4476db62ae27'] |
Run Your Fingers
**Author's Note:**
> Song: Leaving My Hairdresser - The Bedroom Philosopher
>
> This is my first attempt at fic writing. I write a lot of prompts but this is the first time i've actually tried to turn one into completed work. Please be nice :)
It's not like it's out of control, it's not like it's bothering him. Although, he know's it has to be done.
Harry has been playing with his hair for over and hour, nothing is working how it use to. He stumbles a little grumpily out of his room and sits down next to Zayn where he's rolling cigarets on the coffee table.
"I hate my hair"
"You don't hate you hair, Harry"
"Well...no I don't, but I do need a hair cut"
It's silence for a few beats, Zayn concentrating on what he's doing. Finally he speaks. "Why?"
"What do you mean why? I need a hair cut. I don't need a reason"
"I know that, but you love your hair. What happened to the Harry that always says 'long hair don't care'?"
"Long hair do care"
"Fine, so just a trim then?"
Zayn isn't understanding, the whole lot has to go; no more curls, no more length. It just all has to go. He's tired of having to style it in the morning, he's tired of it getting in the way during sex, he's just tired of the up keep. Even a simple bun doesn't do it anymore. "No, I want it all gone. Not bald per say, but just short enough that it doesn't make me look like a teenage girl.
"You don't look like a teenage girl. Long hair is hot on guys."
Harry honestly doesn't know what to say to that. Sure Zayn is gay, but he doesn't mean anything by that. They've been best friends for five years ever since Harry moved to London for a radio job. He was lucky to find such great friends and roommates in such a short amount of time. Zayn and Niall already had a place and needed a new roommate. A few beers and a rusty duet to single ladies later, Harry had himself a new pair of best friends. He couldn't ask for better. But Zayn never really hands out compliments like that. Maybe he really really means it. Either way the hair cut thing is still happening.
After a long break in conversation Zayn starts it up again. "You can do whatever you want mate, it's not like you need my permission"
"I wasn't asking for permission, I was going to do what I want anyways..and I need my hair cut."
"Okay"
"Okay"
They sit there for a while. Zayn still rolling cigarets, Harry staring off out the window rolling his hair between his fingers.
"Is there something you wanted then?" Zayn asks.
"Can't I just sit here without wanting something"
"You look a bit sad, and you've been still for an uncomfortable amount of time"
Yeah, there was something Harry wanted. Zayn has amazing hair, like really amazing hair. Every few months he has a new hairstyle and every single time it kills. Harry is a little jealous.
"Do you know of any hairdressers?"
Zayn scoffs in a way that he can't believe Harry just asked him such a question. "Yeah. I know a really fucking good hairdresser. He's sick"
"Well...?"
"I'll call him right now, see if there is anything available today?"
"Right now?" No no no, it's too soon. Harry needs his hair cut, but he needs a moment to prepare himself.
"Yeah, is that okay?"
"Um..yeah that..yeah okay" It's a little too soon, but it has to be done. He decided he wanted a haircut Friday afternoon,and it's hardly been 24 hours. Maybe he doesn't really want it cut. Why does he want it cut again? Oh, thats right. Up keep. Sex. Teenage girl. Right.
****
Turns out there was a spot available, apparently it had been a slow Saturday. So an hour after Zayn got off the phone Harry found himself standing outside Louis' Salon. Huh, real original. Why not something like Cut, Colour, Cry, because Harry really wants to cry right now. He's getting it all cut off oh my god. No, no. This is a good thing. He needs to get it cut off.
Harry is a little nervous, but he has his two best friends by his side. Zayn on his left, Niall on his right. Niall had come home after Zayn booked Harry's appointment. He insisted on coming, saying it was a travesty, and he needed to be there for support and cry. Support for who, Harry has no idea. On the way to the salon, Niall wouldn't shut up about how much he was going to miss the curls. Whatever. This needs to be done. Needs.
Harry stood outside Louis' Salon for a good five minutes staring at the sign and trying to see inside. There was too many signs hanging up on the windows for Harry to get a good look at anyone in there. From what he could tell there was possibly two hairdressers fluffing around and one customer, maybe two. He really doesn't know.
It was clear Harry was trying to put off going inside. Finally Zayn puts his hand on Harry's back giving him an encouraging push.
"Oh my god. Becky, look at those curls." Harry hears as he finally enters the salon. "It is so big"
Harry looks over and see's a boy, with the bluest eyes he's ever seen with a soft face and soft fringe staring at his hair. He's currently massaging someones head while he speaks. He seems to be very good at multitasking, his fingers working the women's scalp with ease. | f4c80633e4c2433dae55e49378596785 | ['b34e8e220492463d9a7e4476db62ae27'] | Untitled 7 - Larry Hate Fic
**Author's Note:**
> This is a prompt. This story has not been written. It is free for all.
> The only thing I ask is for a tiny credit at the start or end of the story (but then again you don't even have to do this).
> I am a terrible writer but I have many ideas in my head and I need somewhere to put them.
>
> If you would like me to take this down once you have claimed it, I will do so. You don't even have to tell me you've taken this idea, but if you don't it will remain up for others to use as well.
>
> Again, this is only a prompt. No attempt at a story has been made. Maybe one day I will attempt to write again.
>
> Come talk to me USER.tumblr.com
> and see my sub blog allthecontrolover-me.tumblr.com for all these prompt and more
> Happy writing :)
Louis loves his group of friends. He just really wishes Harry wasn't apart of said group of friends. But that's the way it's always been and Louis isn't too bothered with it as he makes no effort to talk to Harry, or acknowledge him, or get to know him. See, he just doesn't really like Harry; hasn't since the day he met him (thanks Niall). Hint: Don't leave Louis and Harry in a room alone together, because they WILL fight..for no reason other than a strong dislike for each other, verging on hate.
Yeah, Louis loves his group of friends sure, but when Harry's boyfriend dumps him and he needs a place to stay, they all leave Harry at his doorstep. Apparently 'he's the only one that as a spare room'. What the fuck? Louis didn't even know Harry had a boyfriend! Maybe Louis actually hates his friends.
or Louis and Harry hate each other but when they are forced to live together indefinitely, things just might change. Might.
**Author's Note:**
> This is a prompt. This story has not been written. It is free for all.
> The only thing I ask is for a tiny credit at the start or end of the story (but then again you don't even have to do this).
> I am a terrible writer but I have many ideas in my head and I need somewhere to put them.
>
> If you would like me to take this down once you have claimed it, I will do so. You don't even have to tell me you've taken this idea, but if you don't it will remain up for others to use as well.
>
> Again, this is only a prompt. No attempt at a story has been made. Maybe one day I will attempt to write again.
>
> Come talk to me USER.tumblr.com
> and see my sub blog allthecontrolover-me.tumblr.com for all these prompt and more
> Happy writing :) |
671fbf37d1874c8f984e6126bc32723b | ['b387717f4ac24e5a97803f473a51053a'] | Humans and Hunters
Matt Donovan never really expected to be the first one to leave Mystic Falls. He always thought Elena and Caroline and even Tyler would go away to college, and Bonnie would take a year off after graduation to search for her mom. Even Jeremy had been wanting to get away for years. Matt always kind of thought that he and Vicki would be the only ones who stayed.
But a lot had happened in the last few years, and somehow, Matt was the first one to leave. He didn't really know where he was going, or what he was going to do, but he knew he needed to get out. He was beginning to feel like he was the only human left in Mystic Falls and he just couldn't handle it anymore.
He was in some small town in Missouri when he heard about a few killings that sounded horribly familiar. He knew he should just pack up and keep running, but there's something in him that can't keep away. He couldn't just let people keep dying when he knew how to stop it.
He snuck into the morgue, just to be sure it was a Vampire attack, and narrowly missed being caught by two FBI agents investigating the case. It was, of course, a Vampire attack, as he suspected. And with the FBI involved, he needed to deal with it and get out of town, fast.
Matt knew he wasn't the best when it came to tracking down Vampires, but it seemed almost too easy finding the Vampire responsible. There was only one problem.
Someone else got there first.
Those two guys from the FBI had arrived, by the looks of things, only a few minutes before Matt, and were, at that moment, being attacked by-
Make that two problems: it wasn't just one Vampire, it was four.
Matt raised his gun (loaded with wooden bullets, courtesy of Alaric), and had time to fire one round into the girl pinning down the taller of the boys, before the other girl attacked him from the side.
"You've brought another," she said, grinning with a mouthful of ugly fangs. "What fun." She bit down on his neck.
"No-" one of the agents exclaimed, and the Vampire immediately let go, choking on Matt's blood. Matt took her weakened state as opportunity to stake her through the heart.
Matt tried to stand up, but was immediately taken down by one of the others. The agents, too, were down for the count.
"I want you," the remaining girl, still bleeding from the bullet he'd put in her. "To take your gun, and shoot your boyfriend through the heart."
"I would, but there's one problem," the man said, flipping her to the ground. "Your mind control doesn't work on me. Also, he's my brother, you freak."
Matt, having just killed the Vampire that attacked him, tossed his stake to the shorter agent, who staked the girl, then the last one, before helping his brother to his feet.
Then, both men turned to Matt.
"Who the hell are you?" the shorter asked.
"Uh, Matt," he answered.
"Hi, Matt," he said. "Want to explain what you're doing here, and why the Vamps hate the taste of your blood?"
Matt looked back and forth between the two of them. For a moment, he wondered if the FBI had a secret Vampire Hunter division, or if they had been lying about the FBI thing. "I saw signs that there was a Vampire in town, so I came after it," he said. "And I'm guessing you've got vervain somewhere on you, or that bitch would have been able to compel you."
"Yeah," he said. "We always wear it. But it doesn't make them hate the taste, just keeps them from using their mind juju."
"I, uh, I drink it in my coffee every morning."
The taller man studied him for a moment before turning to his brother and saying. "That's kind of genius, actually. Why did we never think of that?"
The shorter rolled his eyes, but had no response.
"I'm Sam," the taller said. "And this is my brother, Dean. You're a hunter?"
"Uh, yeah," Matt said slowly, because it seemed to be the answer they were looking for.
"You're just a kid," Dean said. Sam glared at him. His age didn't really matter, did it?
"How'd you get in?" Sam asked instead.
"Um… A friend of mine got turned a few years ago," he said. He knew he had to be careful with what he said. He got the impression that these brothers wouldn't care if Caroline and Tyler were good people, they were monsters, and needed to be killed. Matt kept his story vague and parted ways with the brothers as quickly as possible. It was unfortunate, because he had liked them, they had seemed like good people, people who could teach him a lot about hunting. But he couldn't risk hanging around them for too long. He might slip up and put his friends in danger.
Meeting them had served one good purpose though: he now knew what he was going to do. There were a lot of monsters out there, not just Vampires and Werewolves and Hybrids, but all sorts of evil. And he was going to hunt them down. | b7ece7796e364245827f672b59b1c361 | ['b387717f4ac24e5a97803f473a51053a'] | Vampires and Vortex Manipulators
It was an accident that River Song ended up in Mystic Falls. Well, the second time it was an accident, the first time _supposedly_ wasn't. The Doctor still stuck firmly with his claim that it was completely intentional when they landed there in the 1860s, right in the middle of a massive Vampire hunt. Then again, maybe it was intentional. It wasn't the first time they'd run into that bitch, Katherine, so maybe he had landed them there on purpose. But then, River knew the Doctor. It was infinitely more likely that it was just some intergalactic coincidence.
The second time she lands there, sometime in the 2010s, it's completely by accident. Vortex Manipulator malfunction.
There was something strange about Mystic Falls. There always had been, what with their rich history of Vampires and Werewolves and Witches (a history much more extensive than the books told). River liked strange. The moment she realized she was in Mystic Falls, with all its Stepford ominousness, she was prepared for weird.
What she was not prepared for, was running into Katherine Pierce.
"What are you doing here?" River asked. "I thought you were dead."
"She's not Katherine," an all too familiar voice said from behind her.
River turned, and couldn't help but smile. "Damon Salvatore. You haven't aged a day."
"Well, yeah, Vampire," he deadpanned. "How do you explain your eternal youth?"
"Time travel," she shrugged.
"Uh, Damon?" Katherine asked, clearly confused by the circumstances. River saw it then. She wasn't Katherine. Not even close.
"River, this is Elena Gilbert. Elena, River Song."
"Hi," Elena said, still confused.
"Hello," River smiled in a way that made Elena feel rather uncomfortable. "You look _just_ like her."
"What are you doing in Mystic Falls, River?" Damon asked.
"Curiosity?" she offered.
Damon didn't seem amused. "It's good to see you and all, but we've got enough trouble on our hands as it is. We don't need any of your trouble, too. Beat it."
River tisked. "But we always have so much fun," she said.
"Not this time."
"Ooh," she frowned, turning to Elena. "You've turned him all goody and _domestic_. I'm not sure I like it." She turned back to Damon. "You're in luck. This whole 'small town' thing puts me on edge, and I didn't come here on purpose, so, I suppose, this time, I'll get out of your hair." She pulled back her sleeve and tapped at her Vortex Manipulator. She paused and looked back up at the two of them. The Vampire and the Katherine look-alike. She wanted to warn them. She wanted to tell them what was coming.
"Two boys will come to town soon," she wanted to say. "Might be a few weeks, maybe a few months, but they'll be here. They don't see things like you do. You have to be careful. You could be best friends with them, but it won't be easy. They won't trust you. They'll hate you. They'll try to kill you. They might succeed."
But she couldn't say anything. The Doctor would kill her if she changed this town. If she could change it. Maybe all the warnings in the world couldn't change this place. A fixed point. In which case, her words would only serve to put them on edge.
"It's _scary_ how much you look like her," she said instead. And then she was gone, as if she'd never even been there. |
6edda387758a4f1fbd723023cb0867a6 | ['b38a3902eefe4bfc9deddac1622a9a3c'] |
a new me
Love came in many different ways Hizashi learned quickly enough, especially when one talked about self-love. It wasn’t foreign to him to feel a stranger in his own body and seeing that he didn’t enjoy what he was living with, and eventually curiosity got the best of him and as he started to research he came across the term “transgender”. It was a whole new world but it described perfectly what he was feeling, and after talking about it with his family and deciding it would be what would make him happy, he embarked on a ‘quest’ to find some way to help him cross that invisible barrier.
They found many doctors willing to help and at the beginning of the second year of high school _she_ had started the transition, leaving the old identity behind to replace it with Yamada Hisami, a whole new girl who felt ready to take on the world – the process was slow and painful, with many days spent crying as she felt she still looked hideous and that she wanted to turn everything back to its original point, but after a few months of treatment things had apparently started to look up. She knew she was strong enough to endure it, and one of the things that worried her most out of all that was the way her Quirk would work after the changes.
During this time, school had been tough, the explanation given to her friends seemingly not enough for them to understand yet they did their best to put in their two cents, her best friend and long-time crush Shouta being the one putting in the most effort to make sure she felt completely safe in that environment. “The important thing is that you feel comfortable,” he had said, much to her surprise. “What people think is not the primordial thing right now, just what you think of yourself.”
It was nothing short of a shock when he decided to fight one-on-one some stupid kids who were giving her a hard time, ending with a black eye and a busted lip as well as some other bruises across his face. He made sure that no one would harm her, be it physically or emotionally, and she was beyond thankful. He was also there to help her through the paperwork at school and for her new identity to be recognized legally; Hisami wouldn’t admit it but he had been the main reason why she had been able to pull through at all.
It had been him who had introduced her to an acquaintance who was a doctor and whose name she could not for the life of her remember, someone with a Quirk Hisami had not heard of before – the ability of switching people’s bodies altogether to make them the opposite sex, something she had only dreamt of a couple of times before and that now was materializing right in front of her. “Usually, Quirks’ effects last from mere minutes to days, but mine has a twist to it,” the man had explained to her during a small meeting at a local café. “If I can get a sample of the target’s DNA, be it hair, a bit of saliva or even blood, I can manipulate it to be permanent. It doesn’t help much in fights but that’s the reason why I decided to pursue a different path.”
And like that, the treatment was over earlier than expected.
* * *
From the beginning of their third year, it was as if Yamada and Aizawa’s friendship had just grown stronger than ever. It got to the point where they would just be inseparable, even more so than before, and their peers wondered just how much closer they could get before grazing the actual limits of a relationship. Deep down, Hisami wondered if there was any way they could get over the awkward stage of getting to know each other and just jump into a relationship – but that would’ve implied that her best friend felt the same way towards her, and while she never had had the courage to come out to him before there was still nothing that indicated that he could’ve been attracted to her new self.
Damn, she wasn’t even sure if he had liked guys before.
She did everything she could to make him indirectly notice her feelings before the middle of the school year came by but to no avail; he was just a stone wall that she was unable to break down, but soon one June day, while talking about random stuff as they headed to their respective dorm, something he said made her freeze in place. “You know,” he started with his usual bored tone, “I kind of do miss Hizashi.” She gulped and looked straight at him, his eyes hidden behind his long hair – it was as if her heart fell to the ground, but before she could say anything he added with a shy voice, “I… liked him, you know?”
Hisami wondered if she had heard correctly and things felt like a dream around her as his words settled in her mind. “W-what do you mean, you ‘liked’ him?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky.
“Just that, I liked him – too bad I never got to tell him.” Her thoughts created a tornado inside her head, feeling as confused as could be: her crush, her best friend, the one who knew everything about her and the only one to ever meet the two of the same person just as deeply was not only confessing, but thinking that he was indeed _too late_ to do anything about it. Boy was he wrong. “And the only reason I’m telling you this is because I think I like Hisami just the same, but I don’t want my feelings to get in the way. If you don’t want that kind of relationship, I’ll understand.” | b2569aec77c847298754de32ceadbf20 | ['b38a3902eefe4bfc9deddac1622a9a3c'] |
Impaired
Explosions.
All around them.
It was 7 pm and that was all Tetsutetsu could hear while he ran as fast as he could across the abandoned building that had been used as a trap to lure him in. He knew that, but he didn’t care at all – his target, the man who had his whole heart on the palm of his hand now lying unconscious on his arms as they ran towards the exit of the place. He knew his sidekicks would be waiting for him there, but the blood on the body of his blond-haired boyfriend had his mind somewhere else, as if what was happening would be just a bad dream.
It was all a blur from the moment he left his partner under one of his sidekicks’ care to fight the villains back again until the very moment he arrived at the hospital two hours later, the chaos still being contained by the numerous heroes who had turned up to fight. Despite being dirty and wounded, the first thing he did was walk straight to the room he knew his lover was in; Kirishima had kept him informed, and he made a mental note to thank him after the whole ordeal was finally done.
A few nurses tried to stop him but he ran and ran until he opened the door to one of the most heart-breaking scenarios he had ever witnessed: wires everywhere, beeping noises that made him dizzy, and the constant smell of sickness lingering in the air, all around Kaminari, who lay still unawake on the bed with bandages covering most of his face – and oh what a lovely face that was, even if it was broken like that.
He felt the tug of the nurses urging him to get out of the room and that the patient needed to rest, but the only thing that haunted his mind was the never-ending doubt of what would happen to Denki, and no one really had an answer. He quickly went home and took a shower, taking the chance to scream and cry and feel as hopeless as he could, blaming himself for the horrible sight and for the injuries he had caused his love. About an hour later, he was sitting on the waiting room, eyes red and dry but still ready to cry if he felt like it.
At about 5:30 am, Kirishima and Awase appeared, both of his friends willing to give him either all of the support he needed or all of the solitude he wanted; Tetsu chose the support, finally breaking down completely while Yousetsu had an arm wrapped around his shoulder. “I’m so fucking useless,” he muttered while burying his face on his friend’s jacket. “I could’ve avoided this; I could’ve saved him better.”
“You did what you could,” Eijirou assured him. “There’s no use in beating yourself over this.”
But still it killed him inside, it hurt him beyond words, and all he wanted was to know what would happen now, what type of scars he’d have to see every day to remind him of his mistakes.
It wasn’t until noon that a tall, dark-haired doctor appeared calling the name of Kaminari and making the three of them stand up swiftly. “You should go Kirishima,” Tetsu whispered, feeling slightly ashamed all of a sudden. “You’re one of his best friends after all.”
Eijirou just pushed him forward, to what Tetsu gave him a look of confusion. “I might be one of his best friends but _you’re_ the one he chose to spend his life with. Now go, the doctor’s waiting.”
He gulped but nodded, a pink blush tinting his cheeks as he walked. _Will Denki want to spend his life with me after this?_ He shook the man’s hand firmly as soon as he reached his side and waited for him to speak. “Hello, you must be Tetsutetsu,” he started. “I’m doctor Shimizu, and I’m taking care of Mr. Kaminari while he requires our services.” He went through his papers carefully, his eyes moving from page to page and reading everything faster than Tetsu could see. “The patient showed minor injuries throughout his body, no internal bleeding luckily, two broken bones that have already been taken care of… but the major problem we’re facing is his face. He seemed to have received a strong blow on the right side that unfortunately hit the skull in a bad angle – the bone shattered right under the eye socket, and some of the pieces hurt the eyeball.”
“Will he be okay?” an impatient Tetsu asked, his hands sweating. “Is his head okay?”
“The brain showed no signs of trauma, and the overall structure of the skull is intact,” Shimizu continued. “But the eyeball tissue that’s been damaged…” sighing, he ran his free hand through his hair, and Tetsu held back from just snatching the papers and reading everything himself. “The eyeball is not looking good at this point. We’ve done everything we could so far, but the only thing we can do now is wait to see how it progresses to figure out how to go on without further hurting the tissue.”
He felt his mouth dry up and the air left him as soon as he heard those words. Speechless, he looked at Kirishima and Yousetsu, the two of them looking back at him with worried looks on their faces, but even in that state Tetsutetsu knew he wouldn’t want to worry them too. “C-can I… see him?” he asked, turning back to the doctor who just nodded and followed him until the door that read _194_ , a number he was sure he’d despise later.
The blond was sitting up on the bed, trying to turn on the TV that was on the opposite side of the room but not getting it to work, and he got frustrated before he noticed someone was in there with him. “Oh, Tetsu!” he exclaimed, the happiness he showed completely feeling out of place with the atmosphere. “You’re here! I’ve been waiting for you to show up – no one told me what happened, and I’ve been worried sick about y-”
“ _You’ve been worried about me!?_ ” Tetsu couldn’t help but raise his voice, much to Denki’s shock. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn’t notice. “ _I’ve been fucking worried about you being captured and almost dying! I’ve been worried because no one said shit to me about how you were and now you’re here almost blind from one eye and it’s my entire fucking fault! You have no rights to be worried about anyone else but yourself!_ ”
Making his way to the side of his boyfriend’s bed, he sat on it carefully and started punching his leg with the little strength he had left in him, eventually softening as he felt Denki’s hand running through his hair and then making its way to his chin, lifting his head up to look straight at him. Kaminari’s expression was one of pain, yet the smile he showed Tetsu made him feel even worse. “So,” he started, “it’s that bad, huh?”
Tetsu held his breath as he realized he had broken the news to him maybe a little too early; it was then that he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and soon he was a sobbing mess, holding onto the sheets as if they were the one thing that could keep him sane. “It’s all my fault,” he repeated. “If only I had been there faster…”
He cried silently with his head down as if trying to hide his shame, as if he could suddenly become invisible or just disappear from Kaminari’s sight. Surely his lover could turn into an enemy with ease once he realized how everything had happened, but a small chuckle brought him back to Earth. “Things happen, and we’re heroes that get exposed to this every day. I’m just glad you were there to help, Tetsu,” Denki said. “You were **my** hero, you **are** my hero.”
Looking up again and seeing the hope in Kaminari’s face, Tetsu felt a wave of warmth inside of him, one that somehow told him that things would be okay – maybe not that day, maybe not anytime soon, but eventually. “I love you,” he muttered between sobs, “I love you so fucking much, don’t you dare leave me.”
“I won’t, I love you way too much to leave,” his boyfriend replied with a happy yet tired expression that soon turned into a more serious one as he asked, “So… will I be able to see you fully again or do I have to get used to only seeing a half of you for the rest of my days?” |
fd386b4c3a9b413e8cc1b792d9ec10b2 | ['b38cfab208be47ef9dc9b516b7d9eb0c'] | Kali came up, her eyes nearly blazing with anger. It made both Stroud and Hawke pale in fear. Maybe the Nightmare creature wasn’t needed considering the most terrifying thing in the Fade was standing right in front of them with a menacing look on her face.
“Sweet Maker, could both of you please shut up? We can argue like little children once we’ve escaped from the giant fear demon!”
The both of them looked like two children who had gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar. They instantly moved away from one another and avoided eye contact. Kali was right, what use was there arguing with Stroud if there was a giant fucking demon waiting to consume them all?
Hawke loved being right but she wasn’t going to spend her time arguing about it while they were being hunted and time was slipping out of their fingers every second they breathed.
“Inquisitor…” Stroud started but screams from behind Kali made their attention seek toward the creatures that began appearing out of nowhere.
“The Nightmare has found us.” The spirit said loudly before disappearing in front of them.
“The Divine is terrible at being an ally.” Kali said under her breath. Hawke and Stroud turned toward one another and nodded, throwing away their petty arguments for another time. The came up on Kali’s flank with readied blades.
“Form up!” Stroud commanded as Hawke matched Kali’s stance next to her. “I’m with you!” Hawke yelled popping a top of a bottle to throw poison over her blades. They had each struck through each creature, they became more and more aggressive and frequent as they continued on. They were close and even she could feel it.
The restlessness that tightening in her chest was becoming unbearable. They ran through a flooded cave, wading their way through. Varric was with the Inquisitor and Stroud as Hawke was beside Iron Bull and Dorian. Just in view was the Nightmare demon and it was bigger and more terrifying than anything she’d ever witnessed before.
“Maker’s sweet balls,” she said just as it let a blood curling scream. No, she couldn’t let Varric be part of this. No way in this damn place was she going to let him go anywhere near that fucking thing. She couldn’t bear the thought of him. There was no way all of them were to escape unscathed and alive. She couldn’t bear the thought of pushing him forward...making him leave her here.
It was then she realized that it wasn’t something she needed to do but she HAD to do. There was no option of her going free. She had fucked up too much and she couldn’t bear having Varric take any more of the blame, not ever. It killed her to come to this—to burn everything she and Varric had to ashes hurt.
She was always the daughter that touched the flame and risked being burned. It feels like the fire had finally caught up with her. She couldn’t let this fire catch, no, she was the one that had to be let go. Let the flames get washed out. She looked over at him, her heart was throbbing in her chest. How much longer would she have to endure this pain?
Hawke turned on heels to face Iron Bull and Dorian that were bickering about Dorian’s garb. They halted in their steps seeing the look on her face. She played with her fingers for a minute before throwing them down and looking at the two in the eyes.
“I need you guys to do me a favor. It’s probably going to make Varric hate me but it needs to be done. If an opportunity for all of you guys presents itself I need you to drag Varric out of here, understand?”
“What do you mean drag Varric out of here?” Iron Bull asked but then Hawke raised her eyebrows and she watched his posture soften the tiniest bit.
“With all due respect-“Dorian started but Iron Bull held out his arm to quiet him before giving him a look that made him swallow the rest of his sentence.
“Understand?” She repeated herself. There must have been something written on her face because their expressions changed and they gave her a nod. She sighed in relief and took point next to the Inquisitor. Her hands shook in the grips of her blades as she ignored the fear and agony in her heart.
She fought with herself. If he was to have it his way he would punch her in the face and drag her out of the Fade for suggesting something this stupid. That’s who she was, though. She was stupid and reckless and she was tired of him protecting her from the backlash. It was time she faced all of her demons and fight through each one.
The Nightmare creature and the Fear demon stood in their way of the rift—their only way of escaping this damned place. Stroud and Hawke shared looks to one another and matched up their stances. They ran down as the demons cut off their path, moving slowly like they were its prey.
“The award for the Fade’s ugliest couple goes to…” Hawke trailed off just as the spirit rose over and above them. “If you would, please tell Leliana, ‘I am sorry. I failed you, too.’” The spirit said before throwing herself into the Nightmare demon and exploding in the face of the demon. She halted its movements and threw it away from them, leaving just the fear demon. | b8e47ad0a96f409a84a4b35e53c74747 | ['b38cfab208be47ef9dc9b516b7d9eb0c'] | Johnny merely blinked at her. Maggie realized that he wasn’t wearing his glasses which meant she probably looked more like a blob than a person.
“We had sex for three hours before _we_ fell asleep. If anything, I deserve some sleep I put in most of the work.”
Maggie nearly called him out on his bullshit since she definitely put in the same amount of work he did. But there were more pressing matters on hand, like the fact that he was _still in her bed._
“What if Mason just strides in her—“
Johnny squinted at the alarm clock by her bed. He grasped his glasses from her nightstand and held them up to his face to look at the time. It was 4:30 in the morning and Maggie could already feel that she was losing her argument. He whipped his head back to her.
“You’re overreacting. Come back to bed.”
“I’m overreacting—“
Johnny cut her off. “ _Yes_. Get back to bed.”
Why was she already so willing to crawl back into bed with him? There was no sleeping together when they were actually sleeping together. This wasn’t part of the deal. The…the feelings she had weren’t in any part of this deal.
She felt her body start moving towards him but sunk her feet into the floor. Johnny narrowed his eyes at her again. This time she knew that Johnny was trying to see a more defined shape in is blurred vision. Maggie played with her hands, still unsure which step to take first. After a few more seconds of squinting and glaring at the other, Johnny finally lost his patience. He leaned forward and tugged Maggie back into the bed.
“I’m not moving and something tells me that you aren’t either.” He sighed.
She was still unsure but her tired body was giving in. She was giving in to the soft sheets and the warm man beside her. Sleep was dragging her back down. Maggie laid back into the bed and rolled onto her side. Johnny’s body moved with hers and his chest pressed against her back. Johnny laid his arm over her side and held her closely.
“What are you doing?” She whipped her head towards where Johnny had buried his head in her hair.
“Sleeping.” He mumbled.
“No. I meant about you—“
He lifted his head. “Don’t question it, Mags. Not everything has an ulterior motive.”
Well that just wasn’t true. Everyone and everything was hiding something. Maggie tried to focus on the blackness of the room. She dropped her hands from her chest and felt Johnny’s hand flex over her abdomen. He was already asleep by the deep breathes she felt against her neck. Maggie gently ran her hand through his.
It felt right. It annoyed her that it felt so right. Her body fit perfectly against his and she felt…safe in his arms. No one had held her and made her feel this safe before. Maggie traced over Johnny’s wrist. Why was he the one to make her feel like this? Why did he get to make her feel this special?
Maggie’s thoughts were interrupted when her phone lit up through the darkness. She gently lifted it to see a message from Mason. He had information on Matt Miller? She looked back to the time and narrowed her gaze. She realized that it was probably Kinzie’s doing that had made him stay up until the wee hours of the morning. Mason left a location in his message and the time to meet him.
The warm embrace of sleep folded over her like another blanket. She’d meet Mason at twelve but he better have a good damn reason why he was dragging her out of her office. Maggie shoved the phone back over the nightstand and dropped a hand on Johnny’s. He adjusted his grip over her side and pulled her tighter to him.
_Don’t question it._ His words repeated again and again in her head.
Maggie took a deep breath and laced her fingers through his. She relaxed into his chest and soon enough, sleep welcomed her with opened arms.
* * *
Maggie pulled up to the park with Oleg and Johnny at twelve. She quickly walked through the park and found Mason standing with Viola. Viola had just thrown in two tens when Maggie came up to them with a sigh. Mason happily smiled at Oleg and threw his arms around the giant.
“Oleg, I’ve missed you so much.”
Oleg gently patted Mason’s head and gave Johnny an uncomfortable look. “It’s good to see you as well, Mason.” He merely replied.
“How are you holding up, Viola?” Maggie asked.
“As well as you’d expect for someone that lost a twin.”
Maggie nodded her head. She definitely wasn’t going to ask that question again. Johnny was scoping the area when Mason gave him a suspicious look.
“I didn’t know you were coming along, Johnny.”
Johnny shrugged. “I want to know why I wasn’t invited to the gathering.”
Maggie avoided Johnny’s quick look. The lies were coming easier and easier with each day that passed. How long would this affair of theirs last? Maggie couldn’t lie to her brother forever nor could they keep the illusion that they hated each other any longer. Mason moved back over and clapped his hands together.
“So, what’s the news you got on Killbane?”
Maggie’s head whipped upwards. “Killbane? You texted me you had news on Matt Miller.”
The twins stared at each other in confusion. Mason was reaching for his cell phone to prove the message but paused. They came to the realization that they hadn’t sent the other any messages in the last twenty four hours. Someone else had.
Maggie pulled a pistol out from her holster. “We’ve been set up.” |
314f5cfe256d4fa2966836843872515d | ['b390037cc4cb4a8cbed30549c26c66e6'] | Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Sam lunges forward and seals their mouths together, cutting him off. They neck for another few minutes, until the weight of their words has lifted, replaced with desire clamouring to be sated.
“Okay,” Dean gasps, breaking free. “What do we do?”
Sam clambers to his feet, disappearing to the bathroom. He returns seconds later with a small bottle Dean knows well - hey, sometimes you run out and what’s a brother good for if not to borrow stuff from?
Sam takes a minute to strip off his shirt, sleep pants and boxers, and when his dick springs free, slapping against his stomach, Dean actually says “Guh,” out loud. Sam manages a grin. “Thanks?” he says, sounding almost shy.
“Don’t say thanks, that’s weird,” Dean says immediately. He eyes Sam for a minute more before standing to remove his own clothes. “Thank God I’m doing the fucking.”
“This time,” Sam says, voice heavy with promise, and Dean’s honestly surprised by the full-body shiver that works down his spine at the words.
Sam lies down on his bed, legs spreading easily, one knee cocked up. He strokes himself lightly, staring at Dean from under hooded lids, and Dean can only watch for a few seconds before need propels him forward, knocking Sam’s hand away and wrapping his own around his brother’s impressive cock.
He jerks Sam the same way he likes - they are brothers, after all - and Sam writhes for a minute or two before pushing the bottle of lube at Dean. “C’mon, Dean, let’s go,” he says breathlessly. “There’ll be time for that later.”
_Later_ sends a thrill through Dean’s brain at the idea that this isn’t gonna be a one and done, that Sam wants more of this, that he’s willing to give Dean more. He allows himself one stroke, feeling his fingers slip in the precome drooling from the tip of his cock, and Sam makes a noise, low in his throat, at the sight of his brother’s glistening cockhead. “Hurry up, Dean, please.”
“Feel like a cad,” Dean mutters, kneeing his way in between Sam’s spread legs.
“Will you still respect me in the morning?” Sam jokes lightly, even as he’s coating Dean’s fingers with the cool lube. Dean snorts, but his breath catches in his throat as Sam guides his hand to the shadowy space behind his balls. “Feels like I should at least give you a blowie or something,” he chokes out, still talking to distract himself from the feeling of his finger sliding, slick and smooth, into warm, tight heat. “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s the only kind of talking I want to hear from you,” Sam says tightly, eyelids fluttering as Dean slips in deeper. Sam lets go of his wrist and Dean withdraws, pushes back in just to hear Sam’s breathy gasp. “Dean, God. More.”
Dean adds another finger, twisting gently in the clutch of Sam’s body. He’s got a rough idea of the reason for prep, knows it’s important to stretch Sam carefully, but his decades of imagining have never given him this much detail. He _knows_ , now, how his brother feels, how his body seems to try and cling to Dean’s fingers as they pull out, how Sam’s eyes roll back when he slides back in, how Sam jolts and cries out, sharp, when Dean brushes something inside him that can only be his prostate.
There’s no going back now.
A third finger, and Sam is panting like he’s running a marathon, shoving back against Dean’s hand as he plunges in and out. Dean’s got his other hand wrapped around his dick, stroking himself in a roughly matched rhythm, and he’s gonna blow his load soon if they don’t move things along.
Sam makes a sound then, something a bit too harsh to be pleasure, and Dean freezes. “What, Sammy?” he says carefully, scared to move. Sam’s eyes fly open wide. “He’s - back. He’s in my head again.” He whimpers, just a little, but it’s enough to make Dean’s blood boil with rage instead of need. “He doesn’t like this,” Sam goes on, staring at nothing. “He’s not happy that he got shut up.”
Dean pulls out, fingers sticky with lube, and positions himself between Sam’s knees, lining himself up at his brother’s entrance. No time for hesitation now. He takes hold of Sam’s chin with his clean hand, shakes gently until Sam’s eyes focus on him. “Let’s drown him out, then. Like you said.”
"Dean,” Sam breathes, and Dean pushes forward, cock sliding past the ring of muscle, sheathing himself in tight wet heat.
He goes slow, careful, watching the way Sam’s eyes slide shut, revelling in the whimper that is so different from the one earlier. He bottoms out, hips flush against Sam’s ass, focusing on the insane clutch of his brother’s body. “Sammy…”
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam fights his eyes open, and they’re clear and focused on Dean, desire and love shining through so brightly that Dean feels his chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with sex. “You feel amazing.”
“Sam,” Dean tries again, tries to say something meaningful, something that can express the feelings that are coursing through his body. But his mind has always been one track, _SammySammySammy_ all his life, and joined the way they are, he can’t derail that train. “ _Sammy_.”
“Fuck me, Dean,” Sam whispers, and his legs wrap around Dean’s waist, pulling him even deeper. Dean lets out a sound that he’ll identify later as a sob, much to his own embarrassment, and obeys his brother’s command.
He draws back and snaps his hips forward, setting a rhythm of deep, slow strokes. Sam twists under him, clutching at his shoulders. “Dean, Dean, ngggh.” | bdc9d484aeb943e9a11d0a4a091c07be | ['b390037cc4cb4a8cbed30549c26c66e6'] | Sam snarls and goes for broke, slamming hard into De. Dean rubs once more over that knot of nerves and Sam locks down around his fingers as he comes, hissing between his teeth, pulsing deep into De’s channel. De arches his hips upwards and Sammy cries out atop him, come shooting from his untouched dick to splatter over Sam’s chest and Dean’s face. Dean grinds himself into Sam’s tensed thigh, licking at his own lips where Sammy’s come painted him in white, and tumbles over the edge, spurting out over Sam’s leg.
De is sobbing wordlessly as he shoves into Sammy one last time, and Dean watches Sammy’s face contort as De fills him up, come leaking down onto De’s hips, dripping down his crack to pool where Sam is still buried deep inside.
They’re all frozen where they are, chests heaving and sweat dripping, trying to claw their way back to the surface. Sammy moves first, swinging down off the piles of bodies, uttering a soft sound as he slips off De’s spent dick and a warm trickle of come seeps out of him. Dean withdraws his fingers from Sam’s ass, leaving him with a familiar pat to his left asscheek, a move years old. Sam gives him an arch look over his shoulder as he disengages from De’s body, groaning as he moves his legs, thighs tight and cramped from the long time spent in one position.
De remains where he is, sprawled with legs spread wide, dripping with Sam and Sammy’s come as well as his own. His head is thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and his chest hitches with silent sobs, wracking his frame. Sammy crawls to his side, concern on his face. “Dean,” he says, soft and careful, touching a gentle hand to De’s twisted lips. “Dean, c’mon, don’t,” he urges quietly. Dean feels a matching tightness forming in his own chest as he stares down at his younger self, and he turns away sharply, retreating to the bathroom and returning with warm, wet towels.
Sam meets him at the door, taking a towel from his hands and dropping to one knee. He wipes Dean down lovingly, drops a kiss on his soft dick, before rising back to his feet. He dips his head to drop a matching kiss, soft and light, on Dean’s lips. Dean lets his mouth quirk upwards at the touch, knowing that Sam can read his mind as well as ever, and is trying to distract him from the drama unfolding back on the bed.
Sam brings the other towel to Sammy, who takes it wordlessly and passes it gently over De’s skin, echoing the movements of his older self seconds ago. When De is clean, Sammy wipes himself quickly and tosses the towel aside, then curls himself over De’s limp body. “Dean, please,” he whispers into De’s neck. “Don’t cry.”
Sam pulls the cover off the empty bed and drapes it over Sammy and De, shielding them from view. Sammy flashes a silent look of gratitude and crowds in closer to De, stroking through the velvet brush of his cropped hair.
Dean turns away, lost in his own thoughts.
* * *
It’s hours later, the room dark and quiet. Jack hasn’t come for them, and Dean wishes he would, wants to get out of here. He feels drained and empty at the night’s events. He and Sam are curled on the far bed, waiting listlessly, but the unmoving shapes in the other bed keep drawing his eye and he climbs to his feet.
He stares down at Sammy and De, nestled together like sleeping kittens. He feels Sam at his side, feels Sam’s lips brush over his neck. “Do you think we fucked them up?” Dean asks quietly, echoing De’s earlier words, and he feels Sam’s mouth halt on his skin.
“Do you?” Sam murmurs into him. Dean can’t look away from the sight of himself and his little brother, sated and still, curled against each other in a way that looks just as natural as it feels when it’s him and Sam.
“I dunno,” Dean replies. “I can’t think of how it’ll change anything.” He thinks back to the case they had just wrapped, Sarah and the haunted painting. It wouldn’t be long now before they met up with Dad again, before Dad got possessed by Azazel, before the truck smashed into them and put himself into a coma and Dad in a position to sacrifice himself for his eldest son.
“Dad’ll sell his soul. He’ll - ” he looks down at himself, so young and innocent looking. “I’ll feel awful about it. Azazel will rally the other special kids. We’ll end up at Cold Oak. You’ll - ” it’s been years but his throat still closes at the images in his head, kneeling in the mud with Sam’s body limp and empty against him - “You’ll die and I’ll sell my soul, and we’ll look for a solution. There won’t be one. Only this time it won’t take a bottle of whiskey at two minutes till midnight. We’ll - they’ll - already be there.”
He shifts, the press of Sam’s body warm against his. “Us - them - being...together earlier than it should have been: I don’t think it’ll cause them to make any decisions different from what we made. If anything, it’ll solidify them.” He grips Sam tighter, pulls him closer. “If we already had this and you died, all I would have done is sell my soul that much faster. Wouldn’t’ve taken three days.”
Sam strokes his head, comforting him through the pain that had never really gone away, only lessened as the years went on. “What do you think Jack sent us here for?” Sam says softly, lips moving against Dean’s bare shoulder. Dean snorts softly. “Fuck if I know. Maybe he didn’t want to pay for porn.”
“You think he watched?” Sam says, mildly aghast. “Think he can do that?”
“He’s the son of the Devil, who knows what he can do? He didn’t appear to break a sweat sending us here. And for all we know, he could have watched - could be watching right now. Maybe he gets off on it.”
Sam furrows his brow. “That seems kinda...blasphemous.”
“Yes, because I’ve always cared so much about not being offensive to divine beings.”
“Shh,” Sam admonishes at the sound of Dean’s raised voice, as the boys on the bed stir restlessly. They watch as De curls himself tighter around his little brother’s body, protective even in sleep. “Did you always look at me the way he looks at Sammy?” Sam whispers. “Like I’m your whole world?”
“Always.” Dean’s voice, lowered in deference to the sleeping boys on the bed, is fierce nonetheless.
Sam’s smile is wistful. “I thought it was just me.”
Before Dean can reply, a rumble shakes the room, the floor vibrating under their feet, and a starburst of light appears a few feet away. A figure in the centre of the light, dark with glowing golden eyes, holds out a hand, and Sam and Dean feel the familiar sensation of being whisked through time and space.
In the darkness of the motel room, Sammy and De sleep on, safe in each other’s embrace. |
f018244de687467e9350988c6f499d0a | ['b3937890863b48e18f19c6b717854866'] | Sam hadn’t the smallest clue what Gabriel was going to do, and he was very excited to find out. When the not-couple arrived home holding bags of food in their hand Sam found it increasingly difficult to not just push them into a room together and yell that they weren’t coming out until they had figured themselves out. Dean was constantly checking out Cas, who seemed utterly oblivious to this. Cas would giggle and flip his hair, unaware of how Dean would get a bit red in the face and swallow hard averting his eyes to his food. It was hilarious to Sam how a girl could knock Dean flat on his lady-killer ass and make him a lovesick puppy. Dean had brought home pie for dessert as well, so after finishing his burger he cut a slice for himself and Cas, dropping it in front of the angel.
Cas stopped nibbling at his burger and went straight for the pie, grabbing a fork and taking a large bite. When he got a bit of pie filling, apple this time, on his thumb he went to suck it off as he would normally. Dean’s heart nearly stopped, eyes bulging from his head and face flushing a brilliant red, Sam found it nearly impossible to contain his laughter.
Dean left to his room not long after that.
When Dean entered his room he flopped haphazardly on his bed. Why had Gabriel made Cas such a hot girl? Hot didn’t even begin cover it, she was perfect. He wanted to push her up against the wall like Cas had done to Meg, but no, it was still Cas who couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. Dean needed a drink.
Grabbing a beer he wasn’t sure he remembered having in his rom he took a long swig. He took a few more before he heard a yelp coming from the hall. Dean jumped from his bed and ran out to see what was going on, Castiel’s door was shut so he swung it open.
“Are you okay? I was worried! Are you hurt? Please don’t be hurt.” Dean said, words spilling out of his mouth. “I don’t know why I said any of that. But it’s not a lie. Cas are you okay?”
“Dean?” Cas asked.
“Yeah it’s Dean, where are you?”
“Behind the bed, I was getting ready for bed and I dropped my phone so I went to get it and twisted my ankle.” Cas muttered, poking his head up from the side of the bed.
“Here let me get it for you.” Dean moved towards the angel.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“I… I am not wearing any pants.”
“Why aren’t you wearing pants?”
“Gabriel took them all.” Cas sighed.
“I won’t look, I promise.” Dean moved as close as he could before he saw skin, then kneeled to the floor and reached under the bed, looking for the phone.
“I am in the bed, you can open your eyes now.”
“Alright.” Dean opened his eyes and looked beneath the bed, grabbing the cell phone. It felt oddly metallic in the palm of his hand. “Did you get a new case?”
“No?”
Dean turned the phone over, and stuck to the back was a condom package, unopened. Before he could even think he spoke again.
“Why is there a condom package stuck to your phone?”
“It wasn’t there when I dropped it.” Cas looked stunned, grabbing his phone from Dean’s hand.
Dean looked down at the angel, inspecting his phone carefully. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“I understand how my current form could be seen as attractive, yes.” Cas nodded, blushing.
“No. I mean all the time. Before you were a girl, you were hot too. I never told you because I am pretty sure you can’t return the feelings, or don’t, whatever, but I always thought that.” Dean couldn’t stop the words falling out of his mouth.
“I do.”
“You do what?”
“Return the feelings. I just thought you didn’t.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” Cas smiled up at him, then grabbed his arm. “I don’t think I could lie about that if I wanted to.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked.
“The beer we drank, makes us say what we are really thinking, Gabriel is to blame.”
“Gabriel spiked our drinks?”
“Yes, do you care?”
“Not at all.” Dean grinned, then grabbing Castiel’s face and pulling him in for a kiss he had been waiting years for.
Dean was then pulled on to the bed, half kneeling as Cas started to sit up to keep the kiss alive. Dean’s tongue begged entry to Cas’ mouth, to which he allowed. Cas tasted like honey and cinnamon, Dean’s new favourite flavour. The kissed deepened, Cas melting in to Dean. When Dean pulled away out of breath Cas honest to god whimpered. Then he look behind Dean to see the door was still wide open.
“We should close that.”
“Probably.”
Cas got up to go close it, and as his fingers connected with the door he was turned quickly around. Dean pushed the door shut behind Cas, grabbing him and moving him on to the door he had just shut then kissing him hard. Cas whimpered against him, propped up on Dean’s knee to get better leverage. Dean ran his hands through Castiel’s hair, Cas did the same Dean, tugging a bit. Cas was grinding down on Dean’s thigh, and when they broke apart both had blown pupils and the same lust-driven look on their face.
“Bed. Now.” Cas commanded, then letting himself be flipped on to the bed. | 910a99371eda4272a4cc7bfe5da643c2 | ['b3937890863b48e18f19c6b717854866'] | Cas responded in time with his moans, and then yanked his hair again before pulling their faces together and meeting him in a heated kiss. “Love you Dean, love you love you love you. So fucking huge, s’fucking perfect. Fuck me harder.”
Dean was close, really really close. The pressure was nearly unbearable and with the final moan of “fuck!” from his boyfriend mounted atop him he was coming deep inside him. Castiel, realizing he had won their petty competition rode out Dean’s orgasm, starting his just seconds after. He lay flat across his boyfriend’s chest, worn out and panting to catch his breath.
“Angry sex.” Dean chuckled. “Gotta do that again.”
Cas laughed a bit too. “I’m not even mad at you anymore.”
“I’m not either.” Dean kissed his boyfriends hair. “That was unbelievably hot.”
“Agreed.” Cas nodded.
“Sorry for getting home so late.”
“Sorry for letting the cat destroy the pillow.”
“You better fix my shirt, by the way.” Cas grinned against Dean’s chest, promising himself that he would have to get Dean riled up like that again. Although not for a while, because at this point he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to walk again for the next week.
**Author's Note:**
> So this just hit me and now it is 2am. Probably a few errors (I am sorry). Drop me a kudos and comment if you liked it :) Thank chu :* -baby |
15bf4a73b1934a099a7104e16b48f997 | ['b3d5ef1a31e543a88f48ce5241dda8c2'] | Another thing that made sense: sensory sensitivity. For as long as Don could remember, Leo’s always had the sharpest hearing. It didn't matter how quiet you were, he would always find you. The fact this could be explained by a lack of a sensory filter made it all seem kind of unfair, in a way. Of _ course _ he always won hide and seek, he never had to stop and try to hear for breathing, because his brain never discarded it in the first place. Cheater.
Now there laid the elephant in the room: defects in the social sphere of life. Granted, living in the sewers for their entire lives left some much-needed room for improvement for all of their social skills, autism or not. Sure, he wasn't the most talkative, but he never had been mute. According to Splinter, Leo had actually been the first to talk! And _ maybe _ he could come off as cold, but that was just part of his charm. Donatello _ firmly _ believed that Leo was just as connected to everyone else as they were — he had to be. He made eye contact, sometimes even a bit too much, he had a friend, he didn't stutter, nothing. Unbreaking eye contact, coming off as aloof to others and being less talkative than his brothers _ couldn’t _ mean he had some social issue.
Could it?
What would that even _ mean _ ?
….
So. Autism. One of his brothers is _ possibly _ autistic, and the other _ possibly _ has ADHD. Just more information for the growing vault of secrecy Don had begun. Brilliant. He needed a vacation.
~~ He needed a _ doctorate. _ ~~
3. Chapter 3
Alright. This would be fine. Leo was still the same brother Don always had, the only difference was that there was the _ possibility _ of a word to describe his behaviors. No big deal. In the long run, it would probably be as helpful as the shoddy diagnosis he’d mentally given Mikey. The diagnosis meant it was easier to find articles, papers, and forums about a group of symptoms. It led him to ideas for redirections, distractions, and trying to make Mikey think about what actually happens if he causes trouble out of boredom. Simple things. ~~ Like spiking his drinks with caffeine on particularly bad days. ~~ All very simple, all very subtle, all very workable adjustments that made life easier for everyone. All adjustments that could be done without having to disclose said shoddy diagnosis, too.
In his research, the most recurring way of helping autistics was acceptance. Which felt… kind of redundant, in a way. _ Of course, they _ ’d all accept Leo, what else could they do? He was their _ brother _ . Did humans just… not adapt to different people? Again, another redundancy. Of course, they didn’t. Why else did they live in the sewers? Don was getting off track. ~~ And losing more sleep. ~~ He needed easy, workable solutions. Small changes nobody would notice.
Donnie decided changing out the fluorescents with LEDs would be a good first step. To his surprise, it actually did help, and he saw a decrease in the number of headaches Leo had. The same happened when he worked on making the “electrical hum” of the lair quieter. Splinter also appreciated these changes, thanks to the fact he just heard better than them. Now, it made a lot more sense why Leo preferred having candles and paper lanterns in his room over lamps.
Next came the idea of a rope swing in the lair, one that you could jump off of into the pool. It was actually an idea Don got from his childish side, spurred on by pictures of occupational therapies, and it was pretty genius. And fun. Very fun. It might have been more selfish to add it in that he’d like to admit.
Honestly, other than a few minor adjustments, the life they lead was actually pretty geared towards autism. A stable routine, socialization limited to a few close people, 1:1 guidance with Splinter…. No wonder it took Donnie so long to notice.
Don rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them or whatever tiredness had settled there. He was an _ engineer _ , not a _ psychologist _ . That’s why it had taken him so long. Even though the brain was one hell of a machine, it wasn't his type of project. He took a questionable looking cup of coffee and threw back all of its contents in one sip.
It was paint water.
Maybe it was time for bed.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Don, please get a working sleep schedule that doesn't change whenever you have a new fixation. Also, tell someone about your “shoddy diagnoses” before I strangle you. Love, author. I’ll try posting once a week, let’s hope school doesn’t dominate my time. Oh! This takes place between season 4 and 5! And I'm not afraid to stretch it out because these boys need a break.
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Mikey POV chapter! Yay!
It was a pretty good day so far, actually. Sensei didn’t notice I fell asleep in meditation, we didn’t die, and now we were about to go chill at April’s on celebrating the whole living deal! Awesome, right?
Totally awesome. Completely awesome. Something... no, some _ one _ was off, though.
Don was good, smiling, running over traffic cones, not horribly mutated. All in all fantastic. Raph was great too, betting Casey he could crush more cans than him, and that he was the manliness or something important. Important enough to ignore Don’s driving! But yeah, Leo. Not Gucci. Actually, he had been staring off into space for the last several minutes, which wasn’t until he Normal And Accepted Leonardo Behavior™ book, edition 5. Nor was it in any of the other editions, soooooo | e0f835710d014962870cb01ba159daf7 | ['b3d5ef1a31e543a88f48ce5241dda8c2'] | Raph also pointed out we’d need to get you back on a nocturnal schedule and I am SO not looking forward to that. And that you’ll be back in your baby prison. Kinda wished Donnie just made a normal crib…. Maybe I’ll set up a drawer for you in my room.
Everyone keeps pointing out all the stuff we’ll need to do. I dunno, it just seems like a lot. I wish we could just stay here. It’d be easier. We have a life in New York though, so. Yeah. Who else is gonna fight crime? Plus we left so much back at the lair… I miss Klunk! And my comics! And video games!
Despite the growing list of chores, I’m just really hopeful for the future, yknow? I have my family, I have you… I don’t think before I ever really wanted kids, they seemed like a ton of work. Don’t get me wrong, you are a lot of work. But now that like, I know you, I wouldn’t want to trade you in. I don’t regret this happening. Every day I get to see you grow bigger and see you get even more of a personality. It’s nice.
Man, this journal keeps getting gooshier the longer it goes on. You’re turning me into a softie like Raph!
\--------
Update: we’re back and trying to get you on a nocturnal sleep schedule again. I don’t know why I said I was hopeful, this is hell. I just hope we don’t get into any fights soon, I don’t need injuries _ and _ you being confused keeping me up. But on the bright side: Klunk! _ Video games! _ ** _Comic books! _ ** FINALLY! Klunk likes you I think, or she’s just incredibly chill. Probably just chill. You’re _ really _ into pulling things right now. Especially if they can go in your mouth. At least it’s funny when Don’s tinkering with you on him. The lair will be quiet(ish) then Don’ll go “you little beastie! Don’t put that in your mouth!” I don’t think you’ve swallowed anything off his desk though. I haven’t asked….
Don says you’ve managed to eat a nut off his desk when he wasn’t looking. He also says that was a few days ago and you’re fine, most likely.
I’m going to keep a closer eye on your time with Uncle Donnie.
\--------
Don -
Turns out you were keeping us up because you were teething, not just from the switch in routine. Which also explains the mouthiness. You have two, huge, buck teeth. Splinter found pictures of us when we were that age. We were kind of… ugly. You’re growing in bottom teeth though, so you’ll look less weird soon.
You also said your first word! Utterly interesting. Too bad it was “Apil”. Explanation: we (by that I mean your uncles and father) were all trying to get you to say your first word — more specifically, who’s name would you say first. Don is so simple, you could have totally gotten it! Then April walked in, and fate was sealed. I guess she really is your favorite, just like she says. I hope at least I’m next. I _ have _ to be before Mikey. And Raph. Leo could probably use something to cheer him up, but I’d really _ really _ like it if you said Don next!
Also, for the record, the nut was a one-time occurrence. I’m faster, now. I was caught off guard, once. It’s in the past. I don’t need to be watched.
\-----
SHE SAID DADA, FUCKING SUCK IT DON!
5. Chapter 5
You’re getting HUGE! Well, not really, but your shell is growing a ton! You keep leaving little paint chips everywhere. It’s nasty. April was freaked out by it, but Leo (I still don’t know how you get Leo to be pulled out his training. It’s like he’s got tunnel vision) was all like “better than stuck shed” and went back to his so-intense-I’m-kind-of-concerned-actually-training. And then me, Don and Raph shuddered. April picked up on it and was like “??” and then we explained that our shells are actually bumpy because of all the lack of light and vitamins, not because of bullets. But some are bullets. Because we get shot sometimes. Don’t worry about us though, we’re professionals!!!
ANYWAY Don makes you vitamins and stuff and we get to crush them up into your food goo. You also get to crawl around in some nice, sunny alleyways! After we clean up all the junk and needles, of course.
I was totally right about you crawling making Leo super anxious, btw. I didn’t worry at first because Don went overboard with baby proofing, but then you figured out how to open baby locks and doors. So. You also make me anxious. At first, it was cute. But now it’s like a baby arms race. Don makes a new lock, you unlock it, he makes a better lock, you get stumped for a little bit, then. Somehow. You break it open. It’s terrifying. You’re a genius. You’re not even a year old and you can _ bash open locks made by Donnie. _ You just. Found a rock laying around and BASHED it open. Now he’s onto metal ones and those seem to contain you, but we know. We know. You’re watching us, trying to escape your prison of safety. Don’s really interested in how you keep doing this, so I guess this is at least making someone happy instead of horribly anxious?
I asked Master Splinter what he did with us when we were that age. He said: “I watched you constantly and became even faster than I thought I could ever achieve.” Aka, I think we probably almost drowned/fell/ate our way to death, repeatedly.
This is terrifying and if you ever have kids I’m not taking responsibility for their demise.
\------------ |
b7790adfc2ec49178debd5e7c6b01b28 | ['b3d71aa0d83f4470b05593f7c884485a'] | “Kokuyo will be safer. Mukuro-sama likes it there and Boss said that-there-won’t-be-any-families-there-to-attack-him.” Chrome spoke at such a rapid pace that she almost couldn’t be understood. She refused to look in Krystal’s direction.
Krystal closed her eyes as she processed the information. She had heard of Kokuyo before from Sakura. He’d fled all the way to Japan. And from what Chrome said…. “Say that again. But slower.”
“M-Mukuro-sama was attacked…by another..family…I know him. I can tell when he’s lying…He lied to everyone… But…we found his weapon…”
Krystal tuned out and felt herself let go of Chrome. He’d been attacked. Because of another family. She’d only thought of what he’d done to that family before. It never crossed her mind that he may be harmed.
A choking noise came from her as she turned away. Covering her mouth, Krystal tried to ignore the burning sensation of guilt in her chest. She couldn’t see clearly from the tears gathering in her eyes. He’d lied to her about it. That was the worst part.
“I’m sorry.”
Chrome’s voice broke through for a moment. Startling, Krystal jerked upright. When had she started kneeling like that.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to…go….”
Krystal couldn’t leave fast enough.
**3 Days Later**
Ignoring all phone calls, Krystal had spent the past few days packing her bag that was now being dragged along behind her as she rushed to the plane. At first she had just upset. He'd lied and she'd fallen for it. She partially blamed herself.
She shouldn’t have been upset though. It was stupid of her to be. They hadn’t been close. After half of their interactions she had to repress the urge to slap him. Although, he hadn’t seemed so bad before Tsuna locked them together.
He’d seemed almost kind during some of the times she’d talk with him. And not near as temperamental when she watched him. Occasionally she would swear that he knew and would show off for her.
And then others it seemed like he was trying to keep her away. Such as lying to her.
But now, she was just angry. Angry that he had lied to her. Angry that he had lied to Chrome. Angry that he had left. Angry at herself for ignoring his health. Angry that he’d pushed her away. And angry she'd let him do that.
He was human. He surely needed to trust someone. But he so obviously trusted no one.
The flight was long and Krystal barely got any sleep. And the travel from the airport to Kokuyo was torture. It was only upon being dropped off in Kokuyo that she realized she had no idea where to look for Mukuro.
The buzzing in her pocket that had started several minutes ago finally became too much.
“What do you want?” Krystal snapped upon answering the call.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Sakura almost yelled in her ear.
“I happen to be in Japan. And after traveling for so long, whatever you have to say had better be damn good.”
“You’re in JAPAN!” Sakura’s voice was incredulous. “Why are you there?”
Krystal sighed. “Because I’m going to give Mukuro a piece of my mind.”
“Please, do not tell me you’re in Kokuyo.”
“I am. And I’m heading for Mukuro.”
“Fuck. Krystal, wait. Don’t do that. Come-“
Krystal hung up the phone. “Sorry. Not happening.”
Looking around, had no idea where to start. Perhaps the shops down the main street? He might be there…
But he wasn’t. Having gone through nearly every shop, she hadn’t seen him. She couldn’t come all this way and give up, though. No way was she going to do that.
At this point, she was considering asking someone. Her Japanese was a bit rusty, but still should be fine. And, if they really called this place home for so long, someone might know his location.
Krystal turned back to the person at the counter of the store. “Excuse me,” she asked softly.
He looked up. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you might know where my friend is. He used to live here and just recently came back. Mukuro is his name.” Her smile only seemed to be brighter by the end in hopes that he’d help.
“You’re his friend?” The man instantly seemed wary of her.
“Of sorts,” Krystal said. Maybe she shouldn’t phrase it that way. Did he not have a good reputation here?
“He’s in KokuyoLand.”
“KokuyoLand?” It sounded like an amusement park. “Where is that from here?”
The man seemed a little nervous as he gave her directions. Listening carefully, Krystal mapped it out in her head.
“Ok. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Leaving him with one last smile, she headed out.
Standing in front of the old building, she couldn’t help but wonder what type of person Mukuro was exactly if this is where he lived for so long. In the early twilight, the building cast its shadow on her, making her more nervous than she normally would be. She hauled her bag just into the main entrance before leaving it there. She’d get it on the way out.
The dim lighting inside didn’t bother her. She often avoided using lighting in her own place. But the dilapidated state set her on edge. She didn't want to fall off a ledge after all, did she?
Making her way up to the top floor, she eventually came across an area with large windows. The windows let in enough light for her to clearly see the fridge and stove on the far wall along with a small living area in the middle. Her eyes almost passed over it all until she recognized Mukuro’s hair poking over the side of the sofa.
Instantly her anger flared up again. Any thought of sleep she had after the plane disappeared. Not only had he run away, but he was _napping_?! | e279c48974934d2598d48f6a36a78aa1 | ['b3d71aa0d83f4470b05593f7c884485a'] | Krystal tried not to laugh at his expression. This was a serious situation. The more she tried to be serious the more she found herself laughing.
“Kufufu. Not bad. So, you saw through it, Arcobaleno.” Mukuro looked her way. “And it seems you did too.”
With the attention her way she couldn’t control her laughter and distinctly realized she must seem crazy. “I don’t….ha, ha….I don’t know what’s s-so special about that.”
Mukuro turned back to Tsuna. “That’s the first state, the state of Hell. A skill to break one’s mind through an endless nightmare.”
Krystal regained control of herself and slowly started moving to the other side of the stage as they talked. Finally behind Mukuro, she saw Tsuna surrounded by snakes. _‘He just gets more interesting.’_
Krystal stopped moving forward as a tonfa flew from the doorway with a bomb to follow. She used the curtain part to cover herself.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Krystal peeked out and moved the curtain down. Through the smoke, Gokudera and Hibari emerged in the doorway.
12. Turn Of Events
“Hibari-san!! Gokudera-kun!!” Tsuna yelled happily. “Both….Both of you…”
Sakura looked up happily from where she was by Bianchi. “Gokudera!”
“Do you understand, Mukuro,” Reborn said. “There’s no reason why I would be bringing up Tsuna alone.”
“Now we’re even,” Hibari pushed Gokudera off of him. Krystal gasped slightly. She couldn’t believe he was still moving. When she last saw Hibari….
“What’s this? One after another from the outfield?” Mukuro mocked. “What is Chikusa doing down there, hm…?”
_‘Chikusa? What does he mean?’_
Gokudera laughed harshly. “If you mean the spectacles freak, he’s on the lower floors with the animal freak having a nice break together.”
Krystal dropped her stuff and started heading for the door, not caring what was going on.
“I see.” She could hear Mukuro’s sigh behind her.
Sakura grabbed her arm as she passed. “Where are you going?”
“Ken and Chikusa. If they’re hurt…” Krystal shifted her feet. She could hear Tsuna praising Gokudera and Hibari, but it didn’t seem right to do that.
Sakura looked at her strangely. “Krystal, they’re the ones who put Ryohei in the hospital and attacked Gokudera and Yamamoto. If it hadn’t been for Tsuna earlier-“
Krystal was surprised about Ryohei, but cut her off short. “I know. I saw Ken and Yamamoto fight earlier. I was there.” Krystal got to see Sakura look shocked again. “Don’t try to-“
This time Krystal was cut short by Hibari attacking Mukuro. She turned to see them fighting and she sweatdropped. _‘Yeah, hitting him with a pillow really would have helped…’_ They were moving at an incredibly fast pace.
She looked back at Sakura and shook off her grip. “I don’t care what happens right now. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Krystal they’ve hurt our friends!”
She deflated a bit. “I know. But I can’t help it. To a degree I understand them…”
Sakura was looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “Understand them? Are you crazy?! Mukuro’s murdered people. He’s destroyed whole families. The mafia exiled him because he’s so bad.”
Krystal’s eyes went wide.
“You haven’t heard this before have you?”
Krystal shook her head. Her body felt cold and heavy. “No, but I don’t care.”
Their attention was taken by Hibari hitting Mukuro and sending him flying.
“Mukuro!” Krystal said in surprise. This had not gone how she thought. And how was Hibari even moving?! Krystal ran over to Mukuro to see if he was alright. She ignored Sakura yelling for her to come back.
“It’s finally over.”
Tsuna looked at Reborn in surprised joy. “It’s….It’s over… Now we can go home!!”
“However, you wonderfully useless against Mukuro.”
Krystal sighed in relief. Though he’d been hit pretty hard, he wasn’t dead. She sat back by him finally relaxing just in time to see Hibari collapse again. She gave a lopsided smile. “Sorry Hibari, I’ve already done what I could for you.”
“We must hurry and take everyone to the hospital!!” Tsuna said looking at Bianchi and Fuuta.
“Don’t worry about that. The Vongola’s best medical team is on their way here.”
“That’s good to know,” Gokudera said.
“Gokudera-kun you should take it easy for a while,” Tsuna said motioning for him to slow down.
“Yeah, Gokudera. You should relax.” Sakura added in.
Suddenly Mukuro was sitting up. “There’s no need for a medical team.” He pointed a gun at them, “Because there will be no one left alive.”
Krystal didn’t know what to do as Gokudera stood in front of Tsuna protectively. “Bastard!”
“Gokudera-kun!!”
“Kufufufu.”
Krystal found herself holding her breath as he pointed the gun at himself.
“Arrivederci.”
Krystal screamed as the gun went off and turned away. Memories flashed through her mind and she curled up. Her hands covered her mouth. That had been the last thing she wanted to happen.
Everyone else stared at him in shock. Then Gokudera spoke, “….He really did it.”
“How could he…” Tsuna started. “Why…did he do something like that?”
Krystal shook her head and tried to relax but her body trembled. Tears streamed down her face.
“He probably thought he’d rather die than be captured alive.” Reborn said.
“How depressing…” Gokudera said.
Tsuna behind him looked a little sick. “What’s this feeling….”
“It’s a shame we couldn’t capture him alive, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Reborn said.
“Ah, Bianchi be careful!” Sakura said with her hand on Bianchi’s shoulder.
Bianchi was sitting up. “Finally. We’ve defeated Mukuro.” She accidentally scratched Sakura’s foot with the top of the trident as she righted herself. “Sorry, Sakura.”
“I’ll survive.” Sakura said. “Just be careful.”
“Sis!” Gokudera said.
“Thank goodness! Bianchi has regained consciousness!” Tsuna said.
“Take it easy,” Reborn said.
Krystal looked over at Bianchi as she wiped her tears away. _‘They moved on so quickly despite Mukuro….’_ She edged away from his body. _‘He’s still human and it’s terrible he died.’_ |
46b070147b2e4b1ca657db9723920445 | ['b3dfa0b8c5e44080b2bcce41157d0dbd'] |
1. The Beginning
**Author's Note:**
> {A/N: This is my first time writing like this (as in an X reader) so try and be lenient with me anyways I hope you enjoy the first chapter}
It was silent in apartment 176, which was kinda unusual. The tenants were known for all being eccentric and very energetic, but today seemed different. Alexander and John were both sitting at the table, writing non-stop while Hercules was sitting on the couch, snoring loudly. Then there was Lafayette, who was sitting by the window watching the rain fall from the clouded sky and onto the dark streets of New York City.
That's when a hesitant and gentle knock came from their front door, causing them all to jump since none of them were expecting company. Lafayette stood up and walked towards the door, and began opening it slowly.
"Y/N?" He furrowed his brows in concern as a young female stood there, completely soaked from the rain and her own tears.
"H-Hey Laf." She greeted with a forced smile.
He pulled her in which caught the others attention.
"What happened?" John asked, rushing to get towels.
"George...kicked me out." She exclaimed.
"What? why?" Alex questioned as he moved his glasses up from the bridge of his nose.
She took a moment, while John wrapped her tightly with a plentiful of towels. "He was pissed since I wasn't 'putting out any for him' and said that I spent too much time here. Then he told me I had to choose between him or you guys."
"Oh..shit," Hercules mumbled.
Lafayette frowned and pulled her in for a hug, "Do not fret Mon Ami. He just wasn't the right one for 'ou."
"Yeah, screw George. He was too uptight for you anyways. Now let's get you out of those wet clothes or you're gonna end up sick." John said, "and Laf..you better change too."
She pulled away from Lafayette and looked at his now wet shirt. "Sorry, Laf."
Lafayette just smiled, "don't be. It's just a shirt."
Y/N followed John into his room so that he could lend her a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, while Lafayette made his way into his own room.
When the three made it out, everyone glanced over at Y/N. Her head hung low; her eyes were flooded with tears still, and she was clearly cold.
"Hey, Y/N. How about we watch a movie?" Hercules suggested.
"Okay."
***********
She took a deep breath while glancing at the opening screen title. She knew the boys were just trying to cheer her up, but they had awful taste in movies. Though she would never tell them that.
Suddenly, she felt a reassuring hand on her own and she turned her attention to Lafayette, whom just flashed her a pitiful smile in return. She knew he was just doing his best to make sure she was okay, he always seemed to.
'How could George try and make me choose? That's low..' She thought, returning her attention back to the tv. Although she knew why he had, and it wasn't fair to him, nor her.
Y/N heard all the guys laugh and she looked around, barely paying any mind to whatever was playing. They all meant so much to her. She practically considered them family.
"What are 'ou thinking of, mon ami?" Lafayette whispered in her ear.
She thought for a moment before responding, "Nothing."
Lafayette didn't say anything else, not wanting upset her but he did feel compelled to pry it from her later.
About an hour into the movie her eyes began to feel heavy and she yawned softly, before snuggling up into Laf's side.
Lafayette chuckled and placed an arm around her, causing Alex and John to look at him oddly.
"..What are we going to about Y/N?" Hercules asked, glancing at her.
John took a moment, "let's keep her here. I mean..I'm not going to let her go back into the arms of that bastard."
"Where would she sleep?" Alex asked.
"She can have my room since I spend most of the time with you anyways," John responded with a small smile.
"Fucking," Hercules mumbled, causing the two boys to fluster.
"N-No." Alex stammered, loudly.
"tais-toi, Y/N is trying to sleep." Lafayette scolded, running his hand through stands of her damp hair.
"Sorry lover boy." John commented, rolling his eyes.
Lafayette raised a brow,"Excusez-moi? Surely you cannot be talking about moi."
"Can we not start a fight?" Alex exclaimed, crossing his arms.
"That's rich coming from 'ou." Lafayette retorted.
"What was that, marie-joseph?"
Hercules suppressed a chuckle while Alex smiled victoriously.
"baise toi." Laf exclaimed, clearly annoyed.
"That's John's job."
******
When Y/N awoke she noticed the clear sky as the sun shined down out of the blinds. She laid up and finally noticed she was in John's room.
"What the.." She murmured getting out of bed.
That's when it all hits her...George dumped her and kicked her out of their shared apartment. She sighed and walked out, still curious about why she wasn't sleeping on the couch like usual.
"Good morning, Mon ami~" Lafayette greeted her happily, as he placed a plate down on the dining room table.
"Hey Laf, two questions. Where're the others? And why was I in John's room?" She asked, noticing the complete silence in the apartment.
"John and Alex had to go to a meeting and Hercules is out on a run. And I don't know about the last one." He exclaimed, lying.
"Hn..okay. do you think you could go with me to get my stuff from George's?"
Lafayette slowly puts down another plate, then looked up. "I want to mon ami, but I promised Monsieur Washington I'd help him move his belongings."
She smiled slightly, "it's fine. I'll just ask Herc when he gets back."
"Ask me what?" Hercules said, entering the apartment panting.
"If you'd like to accompany Y/N to retrieve her stuff from the connard," Lafayette answered for her. | 486d13d215004385ac5a5a894eba819b | ['b3dfa0b8c5e44080b2bcce41157d0dbd'] | Laf's eyes widened, "That's not necessary."
"It is too and there's nothing you can do to change my mind." She responded, stubbornly.
Lafayette looked worried but let out a sigh, "fine but only for a moment."
"That's all I need. I wouldn't want to keep you from working anyways." She murmured.
"You couldn't keep me from anything Mon ami, it's a privilege to be by your side." He exclaimed.
Y/N smiled, "jee I love you too laffy."
The storm began clearing up after a couple of hours and the two kept themselves entertained by talking about past memories.
"Hey Laf, do you remember the day we met?" You asked, thinking about it in amusement.
Embarrassment took over the young Frenchman and he nodded, "how could I forget."
_**December 20, XXXX** _
_Hercules, John, Alex, and Lafayette walked out of the Lauren's home, bundled in clothing. Snow painted the once green ground and it fell gently from the night sky. While the powder began sticking to the boys, They all continued walking._
_The group headed down the main road as the streetlight flickered repetitively, annoying Alexander to death._
_"I swear to god, If someone doesn't fix that light I will sue!" He exclaimed, fists clenched._
_John laughed, "who are you going to sue? The light?"_
_Alexander glared at John, "Maybe."_
_"If you guys want I got a BB-gun at my house. We can go around the city and blow out all the broken lights." Hercules exclaimed._
_J_ _ohn's eye sparkled in merriment and he turned to Hercules. "That sounds awesome! Can we please do this?!"_
_"But isn't it, how you say..a crime? Aurions-nous des ennuis?" Lafayette asked._
_"Maybe if we get caught," Alex responded, taking a liking to this idea._
_"Then it's settled lets head to my lair," Hercules exclaimed._
_The boys continued down the road until they crossed the road and made their way into the park._
_"It's fucking cold." Alex groaned, before getting an evil idea. He removed his hands from his pockets and slowly stuck them up John's jacket._
_"jeSUS FUCKING CHRIST, YOUR HANDS ARE COLD!" John arched his back, while Alex chuckled._
_Suddenly, the sound of_ _footsteps echoed as a dark figure walked towards them. The four looked up and saw a small_ _silhouette headed towards them as the dim lights hit their physique. The person's head hung low as they let their feet guide them to wherever they were headed. It was clear they were upset because of their demeanor, which was obviously a depressive one. Earbuds were placed tightly on their ears, and they casually scrolled through their phone. Each boy noticed the sniffling coming from the figure, but before anyone could do anything the person tripped._
_"Ow." a feminine voice echoed, causing each boy to run towards the girl._
_"Are you okay?" John asked while Alex offered her his hand._
_The young girl looked up, observing the boys before taking his hand, hesitantly and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thank you."_
_"Not a problem." Alex exclaimed._
_It fell silent as each boy examined the girl. She had to be about 15 years old with her hair tightly secured in a bun, but a few strands fell out and onto her cold, red face. Her big, yet dull E/C eyes seemed to be inviting and warm, but still held tears. She even still had a few tears streaming down her cheeks, which made the small scar that rested on her left cheek, which looked as if it had just healed, stand out. The boys pitied her, but two out of the four felt an immediate attraction to her._
_"A-Are you guys just gonna stand there and stare?" The girl asked, obviously feeling self-conscious._
_"Er..sorry it's just you're kinda young to be out here by yourself." Alex responded, pushing his glasses up._
_"You guys don't look that much older than me." she retorted before_ _she mumbled, "Although, It's not like_ _I_ _have a choice."_
_"What?"_
_"Nothing. Anyways_ _I_ _leave you 'old folks_ _'_ _to_ _do your walking. I gotta go." She responded._
_Hercules raised a brow in amusement, "Old folks?"_
_The girl nodded before she_ _went_ _to_ _leave, but was stopped by John._
_"How would you_ _like_ _to join us 'Old folks'...I mean you seem kinda vulnerable out here and it_ _wouldn't_ _seem right for us to let you walk away." He exclaimed, taking a step_ _toward_ _to her._
_The girl turned around, "I_ _don't_ _want to impose and_ _I'm_ _not as weak as you think."_
_"_ _It's_ _not a problem and I don't think you're weak..the world is just fucked up." John responded, which caused_ _the_ _girl to give him an_ _uncertain_ _look._
_"Okay,_ _but_ _it's_ _only because_ _you look a lot weaker than I do and I might need to protect you_ _."_
_John looked at her, amused. "Well, then I guess I'm good if I get mugged by dwarves."_
_Y/N shot John a death glare, causing him to erupt in laughter._
_Not long after that, they all began walking once more._
_"So what is your name?" Hercules asked, flashing her a small smile._
_"Y/N, Y/N_ _L/N." She responded, narrowing her eyes towards the ground._
_"Well,_ _it's_ _nice to meet you miss L/n." Alex responded, "My name_ _is_ _Alexander Hamilton."_
_"My_ _name's_ _John Laurens, but people call me Laurens."_
_"I'm Hercules Milligan and_ _I'm_ _single." Hercules said, with a flirtatious smile._
_Y/N rolled her eyes at him but felt slightly amused._
_"Bonjour Madam L/N, I am Lafayette." The tall, curly-haired_ _male_ _exclaimed._
_"Lafayette? That can't be your real name." Y/N responded, lifting her_ _head_ _to meet the boy's chocolate_ _brown_ _eyes with her own._
_"Oh please don't_ _get_ _him_ _started." Hercules groaned._
_Lafayette ignored him and looked back at Y/N, "It's my last_ _name_ _, 'ou see my name is kinda long."_
_"It_ _can't_ _be_ _that_ _bad_ _."_
_"My full name_ _is_ _Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette." He stated._
_Y/n's eyes widened, "Jesus Christ."_
_Lafayette smiled pitifully, "Yeah."_ |
17a6d6adc2dd4ce79c8aa9b3d024e3c2 | ['b3e91cd0a68049dba02ef062d0b7f47e'] | “No, this isn’t right yet.” I found myself and watched the sky. “The stars...where are they?” We landed and my name was called. “Thor!” So young, he was still much taller than I. Hugging me, he beamed.
“They’ve made you a room!” He tugged with that bright grin. I realized it then. Loki was gone. Had I taken his place to be free? To dream? Lights whirled. Seasons passed.
“Don’t wander too far, the Jotuns still are wary of us.” Fandral uttered. “King Odin and Laufey are still coming to some accord. History will change this day.” Snow blew against my cheeks, casting me into my daze.
“I’ll stick nearby.” I’d lied, hurrying through trees and up a hill to see a crystalline waterfall. Could Asgardians and Jotuns fight together? Was that truly an impossible dream? We both hoped once. I slipped down to explore, light cast upon the ice and illuminated my face and hair. Out of the fog loomed a figure donning a fur cloak. “Who goes there?” I’d called, inching up a rock. “Show yourself.” My hood fell away fully, hands igniting with lavender light as they jumped down to face me head on. Green light matched mine. Sharp face. Blue skin and intricate patterns. Those eyes. My dream jarred again. “Loki?” He looked beautiful here in the snow. All pretense dropped.
“Honestly, sweetheart, you’re making this difficult on me. You always do.” He came around to circle me. “Another history. Another way of meeting. I really expected you to fall into it. You almost did. But, you saw your enemy and looked deep...with love in your eyes. No matter how I rewrite your past for the better. We always end up here. You and I together. Nerien always falls too and you go through that metamorphosis in every reality. That power was yours from the beginning, it seems. Funny. Fate is. How about we charge toward the future?” At his beckoning, the waterfall opened to wash us away. I clawed and kicked, landing upon a boat filled with beings I didn’t recognize. Not Asgardian for certain. Damp tunnels surrounded us upon a glowing sea.
“Where are we?” The oar was in my hands. I was ferrying us off. I recalibrated. “Where are we headed?”
“Figured you knew, Psych.” The man in front looked upon me with deep brown eyes. Bright light illuminated his heart.
“You’re supposed to help save us.” A redhead woman added. “All of us.” They all looked at me with such belief. Hands came from the ethereal waters, grasping to the side of our vessel.
“We have room to spare,” a muscled man with eyes like crystals washed my fear away.
“Yes.” I agreed with him. “Plenty.” We helped lost souls up to safety. “But...we are not ready. Not yet. Not this day.” The oar cracked forth into the jagged edge of some rocks to still us. Muscles strained and I cried out, prying us toward another path. Water rushed faster beneath, charging the boat away from Death and into the great unknown. A mighty waterfall drew us forth across Valhalla and Midgard itself. “Hold on!” I kept us together until the crash split us apart, floating and falling all directions. My body tumbled further. Down. Down. Down. Until the impact shattered me across perfect snow again. Back where I started. This time, my limbs made no move to come back together. I stared at clouds and didn’t give the many footsteps my attention. These people I would come to know down the line gathered me up and cracked my body back together. Piece by piece. My soul in the process. Fingers shifted and arms pulled me to my feet.
“Remember us,” they’d said. “Find us.”
“I will... I just have to wake up.” I let them pose me just so like a graceful dancer. A young boy with sly blue eyes smirked in a way that was familiar and closed my eyes with two fingers so I could dream deeper for a little while. I felt these souls all fizzle away and let snow cast against my hair and eyelashes. Here, my world drew perfect and silent.
_What would happen if she wakes up?_
Hands shook me and my eyes refused to open.
** ** **
Thor Odinson took the door off its hinges and came upon her. At last. A dusky room illuminated at his beckoning. Piano keys pressed of their own accord to create a tune that would always haunt him. His lost friend danced in a circle as if she were with someone, humming and utterly blissful in expression. Unhinged beyond belief. A mighty dome of magic like a chrysalis entombed her in a perfect world of dreams.
“I’ve found her,” he called, helpless even still. “Loki...what have you done?” Thor choked on tears, Mjolnir tight in one hand. Her name drew no recognition. She just danced and dreamed all to herself. Clenched with a sob, Thor shattered the dome to ashes with one hit. Still, she danced on in a shaken, manic daze. Mjolnir dropped to the floor so he came closer, arms up to still her swaying. “I need you. Wake up! You must.” Thor took her arms and she arched, moaning in pain. She tried to keep up her steps, forcing him to come with. Thor followed the beat and couldn’t contain himself. The piano exploded when lightning struck it. Pieces rained and Thor held her close, shaking her harder. Oh, how she fought the pull. And then brown eyes snapped wide.
** ** **
Eyes opened to see my perfect world crash down. A storm flurried as if the dome had been shaken by a curious observer. _No, stay here._ I tried. _Just dream._
_Oh_. I realized. _I am not dreaming. Wake up._
“Wake up!” Thor’s voice pulled the crystalline dome down around me in full. I was dancing aimless in a dark, dusty space. Fingers clawed at my skin to wake. _Loki?_
_I was just under his spell._
I came up for air to see Thor’s eyes red from crying. His emotions fizzled and something connected between us both. I saw him reaching for Loki and the stars readied to swallow him whole. Not bothered to join him during the fall into an endless void. Loki's pale fingers uncurling before… I woke up.
_What happen_ _s_ _when she wakes up? Sweetheart._
_Loki is gone._
And I screamed.
**Author's Note:**
> AU Scenes are always fun to do, y'all. Just kind of felt like posting this one. Leave words if you have them. Thanks for reading! | fcb6116bf78e463aac40b45c2f8508f0 | ['b3e91cd0a68049dba02ef062d0b7f47e'] | “My stomach. My hips and thighs.” I whispered and he exhaled, nodding.
“I see.” Loki hesitated when I peered away from him before slipping a hand up my side, over my belly. He dropped his lips down once more and I hitched a breath. I’d let him do these things in the heat of the moment but, Loki didn’t linger like he was now. He kissed my skin along stretch marks and scars alike. I laid there and felt myself unwind, running a hand into his hair while he reached up to toy with my breasts again. "I long to appreciate every piece of you." I covered his hands with mine and moaned, enjoying him. “You’ve given me so much beauty to explore,” Loki hovered over me and kissed my lips. “I can also say that your thighs drive me mad.” He was tugging my nightgown all the way off, tossing it aside. “The way they’re able to spread so wide for me. The way they tighten around my hips.” Loki’s mouth was on my knee, running up. “How shaken they are when I’m holding them, kissing them. So tender and sensitive.” He traced a line up to watch me shiver, trailing his fingers over my skin and idly down the hair between my legs. Loki watched my eyes grow heavy when he slipped a hand between my thighs to spread them so he could settle on his knees. Nude, I watched him, his arousal clearly straining against his pants. Muscles across his stomach clenched under pale skin as he vibrated with desire. My skin flushed and I thought, _I did that_. Loki was so beautiful and he wanted me so ardently. He would plead for me. My fears were spilling off the bed to hide under it until later. Lips parting, I reached down when he scooted forward so I could cup his cock through his pants. He paused to pull himself out, stroking and I bit my bottom lip, slipping my fingers between my own legs when the moment became too much.
“You forgot another important part of me.” I sighed and Loki smirked wider at my play.
“Apologies,” he bowed low and curled his hands around my thighs. Fingers parted my folds and I felt his breath on my skin, exposing me so intimately that I arched with need.
“Gods, your eyes. Sometimes, I feel you looking at me and I want…” I pressed against the bed.
“Yes?” Loki was patient, I stared at the ceiling and gave in.
“You gaze and touch and I want to play with myself.” I admitted with some force.
“I’m not stopping you.” Loki kissed my thigh and settled his head there so I reached down again. “Oh, yes, this is exquisite.”
“Loki…” I moaned, blushing all over with swelling heat.
“That’s it, sweetheart, make yourself wet for me. Do you want my mouth?”
“Yes…” I pled softly, not worried about my flesh and the scars I created along it. Neither was he. “Please.”
“You did asked politely.” Loki moved my hand away and kissed my folds, delving between them to swirl his tongue along my clit. I was lost. Splayed out perfectly while he moaned aloud. “Close your eyes.” Loki snaked up and draped along my side. Chest heaving, I followed his instruction and felt his hand squeeze one of my breasts before running down along my stomach again. These feather light caresses caused me to grow taut and I licked my lips. Loki was kissing my neck and trailing up the shell of my ear. “Keep your eyes closed and feel me admire this radiant body.”
“Loki…” I sighed, head pressing back into my pillow while he massaged me. My hands slipped up to burrow into the sheets twisted around me.
“Relax and feel me. Feel how deeply I desire you.” Loki’s fingers were running along my thighs. “Tell me what you want.”
“Touch me,” I whined, brow furrowed while I gave a pout as he teased. “Put your hand… _ah_ …” His thumb traced my outer folds. “More.”
“More?” One of his legs shifted over mine to open me up. He kissed my breast and neck, smiling against me.
“I want your hand between my legs, please touch me,” I managed, sighing before I gave a soft moan when he obliged. Soothing every little ache. My back curved, eyes shutting tighter while he rubbed my clit and kissed my chest, in no rush.
“No peeking,” Loki nudged his face into mine. “I can feel you blooming under my touch. Bowing and ready to squirm as I hold you right here with me.” His wet cock nudged my hip and I settled my hands on my breasts to massage them with his touches. “You’ve no idea,” Loki uttered into my ear, “how badly I’d like to be inside you. You purr and tighten while you hold me. Your lovely thighs squeeze and I'm lost in you. Put your hands above your head and let me relax you.” I was a puddle in his grip, grasping for a bar on his headboard. The position pushed my breasts out while I sighed and swayed. He traced circles into me, spreading my lips open so my clit could keep his full attention. “This is better, is it not?” Loki set his head on my arm to stay in my ear.
“I love you,” I muttered, “I love you…Oh… I love you, keep going.” |
bc39bcd82b8544f19297b01a906ce4f4 | ['b4032548cdb54e7cbdbcc65ae95bb571'] |
Alive Again
I take a shallow breath. Everything hurts. That must mean that I am still alive. This is paramount. This is all that matters, for a moment. I feel every, single part of my body, there is a pain so excruciating that I don't even know where I am. I am coming out of the haze, and try to move. It is impossible. I am folded in two on a small bed in a hospital, and all I can do is moan.
Somebody hears me, and comes closer. I feel a hand on my hair, and a quiet voice asking me how I feel. I want to say like total, utter crap, but I can't even take the deeper breath I need to be able voice my pain. So I moan. It ends with a whimper. I have never felt so defenseless in my whole life.
The kind soul attached to the caressing hand tells me not to worry, and fiddles with the IV, and within half a minute I am floating again, slowly leaving the pain behind me. I remember now, I know where I am and what happened. Opening my eyes I ask her with a whisper of a voice "Anything left?"
"You need to talk to the surgeon, dear." She moves closer so that I can see her. "He'll be coming to talk to you in a couple of hours. Sleep now, it's the best cure."
"Mmhm." I am lost in my drug-induced haze. "Just tell me, is it all out?"
"Yes. All of it."
That's it, it's all gone. I am happy and sad and have a head that feels like cotton wool. I fall asleep knowing that the next time I wake up, I will have to take reality by its proverbial horns again. But not now, not right now. For now, I can lie back and just give in to the feeling within me that says: 'Somebody else is in charge. Relax. Sleep.'
And I do, because someone else was in charge; a hysterectomy is not an elective surgery. You do it when they tell you to. And it hurts like a bitch, in every way.
At the hospital, and after, at home during my convalescence, I start reading a series of books that I have been wanting to read for a long time. I never could find a long enough stretch of time in front of me in which to indulge; work and life are always getting in the way. Now I throw myself in, nothing holding me back.
Weeks later, my books are finished. I have read all of them, several times over, and I'm searching the net for more, anything, more, I need words, more words. I need more words telling me it'll be all right, words to pull me through, to tell me there is life, words to make me believe in magic again.
I find them on a writing forum, where thousands of—mostly—women are baring their souls for everyone to see, and are posting story after story. I find it remarkable, especially as many of these stories are exceptionally good. Some are terrible of course, but there's no need to linger. I move on to the good ones.
I find the words I was looking for there. The words I need, search and hope for. The words that heal, soothe, the words that care for me and make me care. Then I also find the words that make me happy, that make me squeal and scream out loud. Because a good story is when—while sitting there in your armchair reading something that is exceptional—you just have to look away for a second and say "Fu-u-ck!" out loud. Then go back to reading.
A good story takes you somewhere else, and when you come back to your own life, it is fuller, more colorful and more your own. It is a kind of magic. It is like new curtains on your soul, it brightens up the room that is your life.
One night, I stay up late to watch a movie, it is beautiful, and at the end I am simply staring at the titles that roll up, up and disappear. At the very end, when even the dolly-grip boys have been duly thanked for their job, right there, is a song that catches my attention, a song which sends me completely out of the real world.
Who would have known? They blow my mind, their song takes my breath away. I am traveling, in my mind, to new places, new sights, new everything. What is happening? Why? And then I realize the question should be Why not?
I start asking myself Where did my music go? When did I stop listening to ear-deafening drums and hard guitar riffs? I have no answers, so I turn everything off and start doing some long-needed soul searching, right there in the middle of the night.
Looking back, I can see where taking a left turn—then left again, and then right, and left once more—has made me into the person I am today. This is not necessarily a bad thing, it is just something that I will have to take into account. To change something, especially if that something is yourself, you need to get accustomed to what is.
If you don't know who and what you are right now, in no way can you influence who and what you will become tomorrow. It's simple math, really.
I realize I need to make sure I take some correct left-right-left-turns in the very near future, because somewhere along the way, I have stopped caring; I have stopped caring about myself, about what I wear, about what I look like every day. I've stopped caring about where I am going, and what makes me happy.
Somewhere along the way I stopped caring about myself. Completely. | 6b6f54344173443ba7222759f7f5a2c6 | ['b4032548cdb54e7cbdbcc65ae95bb571'] | My hair started turning partly grey, and instead of fighting it and doing something about it, I cut it all off, to a shorter, more age-appropriate length. Or so they said. Too bad it also pushed me into that mind-frame of old, into this sinking feeling that tells me it is all mostly over.
Besides, with forty pounds of extra padding, I suddenly look at myself and see that I look and feel nothing like how I used to feel, nothing like the old me. I am just old. Not me. The old me? Right out the window.
I keep reading story after story, and suddenly discover that I can also speak directly to the authors. Not only that, the first time I try to send a short review telling the author how much I have enjoyed reading her story, she answers back within half an hour. This is a new, exhilarating experience. We chat back and forth in short messages on the forum, and suddenly I feel part of something bigger. I am talking directly to an actual author. My field is linguistics, I give her a hand with a couple of sentences in Italian. Next thing you know, she has thanked me in public in her story chapter. My name is up there, where all of their names are.
Up there with all of those fabulous writer people whom I admire so much.
I am somebody. And someone appreciates my help. I am seen.
This does something to my brain; I don't know what happens, but suddenly—instead of just passively looking at things, seeing life and years pass me by—I am right there, in the middle of it, living it. How such a small thing like a mention of your name can stir your soul, shake you right back to life, it is uncanny.
I start to write myself. Oh, my production of words is absolutely craptastic the first months, sentences flow like elephants trying to do a fast Samba. It rocks so bad, I actually laugh out loud right there where I am sitting in my armchair, laptop heating up under my fingers.
That laugh scares me, because I realize I don't even remember the last time I heard myself laughing out loud. And I want to hear more of it, much more, I want my laughter to come back and seize me, kick me, shake me into that happy stupor that only laughter can provide. Of course, it doesn't, not yet, I'm still baby-stepping here. But I see that that is where I would like to be in a few months' time: I want to be in a place where laughter comes fast and easy. And hard. Life-giving laughter.
I buy an iPod, a bright orange one. It is a thing of beauty, it screams this goddamn isn't over yet in a loud voice. I realize that the last time I walked with music in my ears, I was still using cassettes.
I buy tons of music—one song pulls the next, and while one band screams about my redemption and absolution, the next one tells me to chill, relax, go with the flow. I float and delve into the feelings that emerge out of these long-forgotten depths. My neighbors wonder what has gotten into me—they see me pass in my small car, where everything is vibrating with roaring guitars and crazy drums.
Music makes me feel alive; I finally rock. And I swear, my new iPod is psychic. I just put it on shuffle, and we are off—it knows exactly what I need to hear on any given day.
I keep reading, of course, but with new eyes, critical eyes, searching eyes, I seem to be filtering what I am reading from the standpoint of trying to be a writer; I am not just a reader anymore. I decide to stop reading any story that I feel is badly written, that I don't absolutely love at once. I concentrate on reading those that speak directly to my heart. I want to learn from authors who write correctly, authors who respect me enough to actually care about my reading experience.
As there are close to two hundred thousand stories to choose from on the forum, I decide to become a picky reader, and only spend my time on the ones that have a message of some kind. Preferably a message of love is love. Of the powerless finding power. Or of friends standing up for each other.
Instant pay-off. Words flow beautifully, both before my eyes and through my fingers. I read stories of great personal development and love. I write things that make sense and that might actually be interesting also for other readers.
Some days it is like I have been blessed with automatic writing, like someone is dictating the words to me and all I have to do is take them down, as fast as I bloody well can. My fingers are rushing over the keyboard, it is exhilarating, it makes my blood flow faster, it is fun and I suddenly stop. Hold my breath. Then let it all out in a huge guffaw of Happy. Pure and true happiness fills me.
I rattle off messages to some of the new friends I've made, and they all tell me they know exactly where I am, what happened to me; they have all been there, in the Writing Zone, and they welcome me into their fold. It is like truly finding a long lost family.
It is like finding your pack, the people you need to be able to run free again. |
1064687e46794531b25bdfaef1c5a9ca | ['b4216e85a03c48269feea99fdece423e'] | Bucky's mother gets sick. He tends to her as best he can. She tells him that she's proud of the man he is. She tells him he was always too good for that girl. She tells him she is sorry he's had such a hard time of it.
~~~~
The whole family attends her funeral. He hasn't seen most of them in years. He remembers when his aunts' children were born; they have laugh lines, wrinkles, children of their own now. They are beginning to look older than him.
Bucky is frightened.
* * *
_1960_
Bucky's neighbors begin noticing there is something strange about him. They don't believe he is old enough to have served in the War.
Bucky moves again.
* * *
_1963_
It's been years since the Commandos have gotten together. They're all so busy with work. With their children. Dernier's daughter is already well into college. It's the first time they've all been on the same side of the Atlantic in months, the first time they've all had the time to meet in much longer.
Bucky is afraid to go. Bucky goes anyway.
When Bucky enters the bar, the laughter at their table goes quiet. They stare at him as he walks over, Dum Dum and Morita's jaws on the table.
"Hey, boys," he says, anxiety in his voice staining the smile on his lips. "Long time no see."
Falsworth cracks a smile after a moment, and asks, "Your dad put you up to this, son?"
Bucky doesn't say anything.
"Sarge?" Gabe finally asks. "That really you?"
Bucky swallows. Nods. He forces another smile. "Been missin' you boys a lot."
Gabe rises slowly from his seat, pulls Bucky into a tight hug. He claps him firmly on the back. "Missed you too, Sarge."
Bucky wonders, not for the first time, what exactly Gabe saw from the roof of the train.
It's awkward for the first couple of drinks. But then Dum Dum is recounting a memory from the war, some skirmish with a HYDRA unit, all of them smiling with nostalgia. Bucky downs the dregs of his beer and slams the mug down on the table.
"You been exaggerating that story for too damn long, Dugan," he interrupts gruffly, fighting a smirk. "Tellin' it to people who was there, and you know well as I do that accent wasn't foolin' no one. You were a goner if Steve hadn'ta thrown that damn shield'a his and knocked them down like bowlin' pins."
"I told you then and I'll tell you now, the accent was fine," Dum Dum shoots back, pointing an accusing finger. "Steve jumped the damn gun, he's the one that blew our cover."
Bucky shakes his head, laughing. He doesn't see the others at the table blinking at each other, each realizing that he is - somehow - their friend, and not some youthful impostor. Gabe hides a small smile behind another sip of his drink.
* * *
_1964_
Bucky lies about his birthdate when he renews his driver's license.
It's easier than he'd hoped it'd be to forge a birth certificate.
* * *
_1978_
Dernier has a heart attack in the spring. He pulls through, but this time when they get together - in Dernier's hometown - it hits Bucky suddenly how much time really has passed. His friends are all turning into old men around him, but he still looks like the same 26-year old he was in 1943.
Bucky fakes his own death that fall.
He tells the Commandos and his baby sister beforehand, because he can't bear to put them through that. They tell him that the funeral was very tasteful; the priest spoke beautifully, everyone cried. They bury an empty coffin.
It's hard, having almost everyone he's ever known think he's dead, but it does make it easier to resist the urge to try to see anyone from his past.
* * *
_2012_
Bucky leans back against the island counter in his apartment, takes a sip of his coffee, turns on the news. The television screen lights up with thousands of.. _things_ , descending upon New York City. The anchorwoman is saying something about aliens.
The image cuts to a view of a city street. Stark's son is there, flying around in that metal jumpsuit of his. A huge green man is smashing buildings to rubble with his bare hands. And there, in the dust, is Steve Rogers, throwing punches like it's 1944.
Bucky barely notices the _crack_ of his coffee mug as it shatters against the floor.
~~~~
A week after the invasion, Bucky is in the lobby of (what's left of) Stark Tower. A receptionist asks if she can help him, and he doesn't slow down to respond to her, keeps moving toward the elevators. He doesn't know where he's going.
~~~~
Tony Stark stands up. "Um, who are you?"
"Where is Steve Rogers?" Bucky demands.
"How should I know? I'm not his secretary. And might I repeat: Who are you?"
Bucky stalks forward, on autopilot. "Where. Is. Steve. Rogers?" he growls.
~~~~
Bucky doesn't remember grabbing Tony by the throat, but suddenly Stark's feet are dangling above the ground and Bucky is shouting, "Tell me where he is!"
The tranquilizer startles him. He's unconscious by the time they both hit the ground.
~~~~
When Bucky wakes up, he's propped up in a metal chair. His hands are cuffed to the metal table in front of him.
Bucky's breath immediately shortens. He knocks over his chair in his jolt to his feet. He hasn't allowed himself to be restrained since 1943. He twists in the cuffs, tugs so hard his wrists bleed, struggles for air. His serial number flashes through his head, copper on his tongue. | 4db61d17e780402492408bf7b9439557 | ['b4216e85a03c48269feea99fdece423e'] | The History Books Forgot About Us
**Author's Note:**
> Title from "Samson" by Regina Spektor
The clock on the wall ticks steadily, counts down the minutes left before Bucky has to leave. _(How long will he be gone?_ Steve wonders.)
They are in bed, the covers pulled up over their heads. Steve imagines it is a fortress, white cotton walls pushing up into the sky, feather-down battlements tucked beneath their heads. They are moated by warped wood, and Steve worries that if Bucky steps onto it, he'll sink down into it, lost forever. But Bucky is not setting his feet on the floor, is not moving to leave the defenses Steve has built around them. Bucky is in Steve's arms. Bucky is _safe._
_(How long will he be safe?)_
Their hands travel soft and slow, so slow across warm skin. Bucky's fingers trace along the edges of Steve's ribs, memorize the ridges of Steve's spine; Steve's graze along his collarbones, thumb smoothing across his cheekbone, as if Bucky is made of still-wet clay.
They are moving as if they have all the time in the world. The clock is deafening. Steve presses his lips to Bucky's, lets the thrumming in his veins drown out the sound, if only for a moment.
"I'll write you every day." It's the tenth time Bucky has assured him of this today, the hundredth this week. Steve nods weakly, presses his fingers into the warm flesh of Bucky's sides, pulling him closer.
Bucky's hand brushes Steve's jaw, tangles into his hair. "I'll be back before you even have a chance to miss me."
Steve tries to take a deep breath, can feel the gaping hole in his chest the jagged end of the second hand is already carving out of him. He says shakily, "I already miss you."
Bucky doesn't reply. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts their foreheads together. Steve revels in it. _(How much longer do we have?)_
Bucky pulls back, presses his lips to Steve's throat, uses his teeth to tug gently at Steve's earlobe.
"Stevie," he whispers, breath hot on the hinge of his jaw, so low Steve can barely hear it, even though it's his good ear, "would you marry me?"
Steve feels the Earth's axis shift beneath them, the whole world suddenly tilting on its side. He worries momentarily about sliding out of the safety of the bed, but they are tangled so tight in each other, anchored beneath the sheets.
Steve's breath comes out all at once, barely leaving enough air in his lungs for his soft, "Yes, Bucky, of course yes. Always yes."
Bucky's mouth dusts kisses across his cheekbones, and then he reaches down to grasp Steve's left hand. He raises their hands to their faces, keeping his eyes on Steve's, and ever so delicately presses a kiss to the first knuckle of Steve's ring finger. Steve's breath hitches; his flesh _sings_ , and he's sure there's a mark left behind, he's _sure_ of it.
Bucky doesn't release his hand. He's whispering promises into the air, and Steve is breathing in deep, drawing his vows down, down, all the way into the bottom of his lungs. He lets Bucky's voice engulf him, lets himself be dragged deep under by the current of it. He floats there with Bucky, their voices drowning all other sound, and clings to him, knowing he is safe in Bucky's arms, and Bucky is safe in his. |
6e38d2a5bb894d0e803a6250ae8348d6 | ['b43e4b2dca1a4ed29673f8645f7863ff'] | “No, it’s beautiful. It just doesn’t seem like a place where… you know… you…”
Ben gave her a sideways glance. “I wasn’t born in a starship you know.”
“Well of course not, but…”
“That’s the trouble with you. Everything is so black and white. You assume that I’m this evil being that doesn’t have a home. I only exist to be the antagonist in your story. Lesson number one—nothing is ever that cut and dry.”
“So this is where you… live? I mean, when you aren’t blowing up planets or making small children cry.”
“Not really, no,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “In fact, I’ve only been here twice in my life. It belonged to my father.” He hoisted her bag over his shoulder and started up the steps leading to the door.
“Your father? Really?”
Ben nodded. “He won it gambling. My mother hated it and refused to ever come here. She said it was tacky and built with blood money. So, it’s been sitting here empty. She probably doesn’t even remember it exists. But it’s out of the way. Nobody will know we’re here, so you can relax.”
Ben shoved the door open with his shoulder and walked inside. Rey followed, her eyes everywhere. The smell of cedar and woodsmoke hung heavily. The cottage had seemed small from the outside, but inside it was anything but. The ground floor was palatial and completely open. A fireplace dominated one side of the room and a fire was already blazing.
“A common room here with seating and an indefinite fire. The kitchen is through there,” he said, pulling off his scarf and tossing it aside. “There’s some local food that’s fresh, but there’s also a synthesiszer. You’re welcome, by the way. The food here is not the best.”
Rey followed him through the house as he pointed out various points of interest. It was like some kind of weird dream. She couldn’t believe that she’d agreed to come here in the first place, much less that she was following Kylo Ren, the Jedi Killer, around like a lost puppy.
“I’m giving you the bedchamber. There’s only one.”
“What?” Rey’s head whipped around and her staff slipped from her grasp. It hit the floor with a thud and rolled toward the fireplace.
“There’s only one bedroom. I’ll stay in the loft upstairs by the training hall. I don’t sleep much anyway.” He opened the door to the aforementioned bedchamber and stepped aside, ushering Rey inside.
The room was massive. She hadn’t realized that bedchambers could be so large. So much room to call your own. A fluffy, round bed lay in the middle. It seemed so inviting with its numerous pillows and blankets that were strewn haphazardly across it. Another fireplace stood blazing on one side of the room. “Wow… I don’t… I don’t need all this…”
“I realize that you’re more suited to sleeping on a pile of rags, but the appropriate response is ‘thank you.’”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course. Thank you. It looks comfortable.”
“There’s a refresher there with a sanisteam, but if you prefer a bath with water…” He pulled open a set of doors to the side of the bed that led to a small patio. “There’s a natural hot spring off the patio. Don’t worry about being seen. There isn’t anyone around for miles.”
Rey wasn’t sure if she should be threatened or relieved, but she smiled just the same. “That’s good, I guess.”
“There are a few things in the closet that might be more appropriate for the weather, but that’s up to you, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
The two stood there staring at one another for several seconds before Ben awkwardly cleared his throat. “I’ll uhm… just let you rest for a while.”
Rey nodded. She watched as he walked away. Even in such a casual situation, he still walked like a soldier. Shoulders back, spine straight as a board. Did he ever relax? Rey wondered what that would be like. To see him when he was sleeping or caught unawares. She didn’t want to admit to herself how many times she’d thought of him, lying back into his bed. The blanket dancing dangerously low on his hips. His chest moving up and down with every breath.
“Ugh,” Rey groaned. She shook her head hard, hoping to dislodge the thoughts that were tumbling around in her weary brain. “Sleep. Just a little sleep,” she whispered, falling down across the bed.
**OoOoOo**
A clatter woke Rey with a start. She sat up on the bed and scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The low light coming from the windows betrayed the sunset. How long had she slept? It had been a really good sleep. Better than she’d had in well… ever. Rey thought it was strange that she felt so safe here, but maybe just this once she could thank the gods for small favors.
The clattering sound happened again and Rey figured she had better get up to investigate. She wandered from the bedchamber and through the house, finding nothing. She looked up to the training room above and there was no sign of Ben there either. “Maybe outside,” she said to herself. Walking back into the bedchamber, she went to the doors that would lead out onto the patio. There she noticed a couple of piles of snowdrift lying on the wooden planks. Evidently snow had been falling from the steep eaves of the house and landing on the patio. | f18a4678abe1403482742d55dd3d62d2 | ['b43e4b2dca1a4ed29673f8645f7863ff'] | “It’s just… my back. I can’t reach behind. My ribs are so sore.” It wasn’t a lie. In my final farewell with Dax, a kick to the side had been his parting gift. “And my hair. It’s such a mess. I’d really like to wash it.”
He nodded, exhaling smoke as he smashed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. He rose and walked over to the tub. With a single, graceful movement, he knelt by the tub and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Reaching behind him, he opened a small cabinet and produced a flannel. He dipped it into the warm bathwater and I was suddenly exceedingly aware of his proximity. When he reached forward to take the bottle of soap, I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck and again I shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“Not really,” I replied, subconsciously hugging myself. I jumped when I felt his fingertips at the base of my skull. He brushed my hair away from my neck as he began to scrub gently at my skin with the flannel. He pressed hard against my aching muscles, exerting just enough pressure to soothe. Slowly he worked the nubby fabric of the flannel down my spine and around each hip. His fingertips feathered lightly over the curve of my ass and though I felt the heat rise into the apples of my cheeks, I leaned forward, almost involuntarily allowing him greater access to my most intimate places. I listened closely to his breath, hoping for any change in tempo. There was none.
“Lie back,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. I did as I was told, lying back against the cold porcelain. “Close your eyes.” I felt him gather my hair, thick and tangled, in his fist and lower the ends into the water. Then his fingers brushing through it, carefully picking at the tangles and knots. Now that the rest of my body was clean, I could smell the sour stench of The House clinging to the strands of my hair. Smoke and sweat and the sharp ammonia-like odor of urine. I wanted it away from me. The ugliness of my addiction. For the first time I was embarrassed by it and I prayed that he would wash it away quickly. With careful hands he scooped water over my hair, getting it wet. The shampoo felt like ice as it penetrated deeply under the thick tresses and oozed over my scalp. I shivered once more, but I wasn’t sure if it was the chill or the feel of those hands as they lathered the shampoo. Those hands that were so gentle, yet I could feel the strength in them. I found myself wondering how they would feel gripping my hair tightly, pulling my head back to crush his mouth against mine. The thought was so vivid that a small moan escaped my lips. If he heard me, he said nothing, only continued threading through each strand until my hair flowed like water through his fingers.
I heard him stand just behind me and I opened my eyes. Looking up at him he seemed so much larger and for a moment I could only cower, both wishing and fearing that he would touch me again. “You’ll do,” he said and to my surprise offered me a hand. I took it and he helped me stand. Immediately I reached for a towel, but he beat me to it. He wrapped the warm towel around my shoulders. I tried to take it, but he shook his head, indicating that I should just stand there as he dried my body as if I were a child. If I hadn’t been so tired, I may have fought him, but now I just didn’t have the strength. And the thought that this man had taken control of me so quickly, while frightening, was also a comfort and I found that I wanted to bend to his will. I let my arms fall limply to the sides, resisting the urge to stop him as he rubbed the towel over the swell of my belly and down. Then my hips, then thighs. I bit down into my lower lip so hard that I nearly yelped in pain as his terrycloth covered hand slipped between my inner thighs and dried the tingling flesh there. I wondered… or perhaps hoped, that he would take it upon himself to wipe the beads of water that had collected in the nest of soft curls at the apex of my thighs. He didn’t and when he pulled away I sighed a bit louder than I had intended.
“You have scars there,” he said.
“Where?” I asked.
“Just here,” he replied, brushing his fingertip over a criss-crossed web of thin red lines on the inside of my right thigh.
“I…well… uhm…” I stammered, not wanting to tell him the truth.
“A thin blade made these marks. They were deep, but not so deep as to require stitches. Just enough to bring the blood to the surface. Just enough to cause a tiny kiss of pain. Most definitely self-inflicted.”
I tensed, slipping back into my mask of cold indifference. “Sometimes a little pain makes you feel better. Reminds us that we aren’t dead. That there is something warm and wet beneath the cold, hard flesh.”
“Or maybe you think that if you can cut deep enough that all that pain will just slip out of the wound. Then, watching it heal… it’s a reminder that you can always go back. That you aren’t just a lost cause.” His voice was low. Mild. It soothed me and I wanted him to keep talking. “Listen to me carefully, Bijoux,” he said, straightening to his full height. His fingers gripped my chin and he tipped my head higher so that I was looking into his face. “Never do that again. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” I whispered. |
f1c83d499d0546bd845ce47ba9e66ee6 | ['b44782c856c14ddea693de600b765397'] | "Tonight, I needed it to be perfect, to make up for all the hurt I caused you. I want to show you how much I love you, how much I care about you. For the last year I've planning it, down to the tiniest little detail. Lena, I want to marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought I was ready, but to be honest with you I'm not sure I am. I've done some horrible things to you Lena. I would say I didn't mean to, but I knew what I was doing and I didn't stop, so I guess there was some warped purpose to it. I lied to you for such a long time Lena. You gave me your heart Lena. I took something already so fragile, so susceptible to breaking and I held it in my hands. You pleaded with me not to break it, and I promised I wouldn't. Yet here I stand, having broken my promise time and time again, for I did not know my own strength. The strength of my words, the strength of my hands as the held your heart trying desperately not to lose it, not to lose you. Lena, I stood there and broken your heart, I crushed it. With every attempt to carefully put the pieces back together, I only seemed to do more damage. How can I stand here and ask you to marry me after all that? How are we even stood here? Why trust me with you heart, when I so easily broke it before? Why trust me with anything, when I could keep even the simplest of promises?" Kara rambled, pacing back and forth in front of the Luthor, before finally falling to the floor.
"Kara, I've always trusted you with everything. Yes what you are saying is true. You kept your secret from me and it hurt, finding out it was you that said all those things that also hurt. As much as all that hurt, what broke my heart the most was thinking I'd have to live without you. Kara, you are the reason I learned to love again. Before I moved to National City I was so incredibly broken, I never wanted to let another person in, but then there was you. Slowly, every time you walked into my office, every time you smiled at me, every time you looked at me with such love and fondness, you chipped away at the cold hard armor I had put up. Still even then I tried so hard not to let you in, I didn't want, I couldn't, I knew it would eventually break me if I did. I was right to some extent, but the truth is, had I have keep you away, kept you out of my life, I would truly have broken. You claim to have broken my heart Kara, but in truth I think you are the very thing to have fixed it." Lena said slowly sitting next Kara.
"Lena?"
"Yes Kara?"
"Why are we such a mess?"
"I wish I knew, I think our lives were always destined to be like this. Good things are never easy." Lena chuckled laying down to watch the stars.
"But they are worth fighting for." Kara mused laying down.
The pair stayed like this for hours, content in the silence and comforted by the warmth of the other. Soon though it was time to return home as much as they enjoyed the moment neither wanted to fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the desert.
"I'd say yes you know, you didn't have to go though all this effort." Lena yawned as Kara carried the sleepy woman back to the car.
"What do you mean?" Kara asked having completely forgotten the reason she brought Lena out here, the very thing she had been planning all year.
"Marry you. All you'd have to do is ask, I'd do it myself but you have ruined all my attempts."
"You wou...what do you mean your attempts?" Kara questioned, stopping dead in her tracks, still holding Lena in her arms.
"I've been trying to ask you for the last year, but every time something has got in the way. I've tried 6 times now." Lena yawned once again snuggling into the heroes chest.
"You have?! How have I not noticed?" Kara asked shocked, the question directed more at herself than Lena.
"Because my dear you are oblivious to most things, it a quality I often find adorable, but in this particular circumstance rather....... annoying." Lena chuckled pausing to yawn once more.
"I'm sorry I ruined your proposals, had I have known though I would have said yes." Kara said looking down at the woman in here arms. Lena let out a soft snore and it was clear the woman had fallen asleep.
Kara decided to fly home, she would collect the car in the morning. She only woke Lena to help her into some more comfortable clothes. Falling asleep had never been something Kara was good at, she found her dreams always took a dark turn, though she'd never admit it to anyone. That night however she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She had pulled Lena in close enjoying the warmth of her body. She dreamed of their life together, the house, the dog...the kid...a daughter...who for some reason was strangely familiar to Kara, as if she had seen her somewhere before.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes I know, its a short chapter again. I'm trying my best, but hey short but often is better than long but once in a blue moon right. Right?
10. Chapter 10 - Who'd have thought, a Luthor and a Super. | 8a2a2b6e65e6438285c5cd7c34522ea6 | ['b44782c856c14ddea693de600b765397'] | I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you"
Lena joins in with the next bit which makes me laugh.
"Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
Head says stop, heart says go
I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
I'm still, I'm still crazy 'bout you
Do you know I'm crazy 'bout you
Do you know I'm crazy 'bout you
Do you know
Do you know I'm crazy 'bout you"
Lena and I continue to talk and sing for the last part of the journey. Soon we are driving along a very long driveway to the Luthor Mansion.
"Here we are the place I spent my childhood, when I was home from boarding school." Lena sighs.
"It's huge!" I say shocked.
"Tell me about it, sometimes I would go days without seeing anybody, not that I'm complaining." Lena says walking up and opening the door.
"I can imagine. It's not the kind of place a child should grow up in." I say following Lena though the door.
The house was huge. Its was very old looking on the outside, almost run down. On the inside however it was clean and tidy but still old and creepy.
"You learn to grow up quickly living here. Though I am the women I am because of it I woould never allow my children to grow up in a place like this. I've learn from experience children need their childhood." Lena says.
"I completely agree." I said simply.
Lena gave me a small tour on the way to Lionel's study right at the back of the house. When we arrived at the room Lena paused for a moment before pushing the heavy door open effortlessly.
"Woah super strength comes in handy, even my father struggled with that door." Lena joked as she stepped into the room.
The room itself was dark and dingy. There was a large desk along the middle of the back wall. Books all over the place, a few chairs dotted around the room and a large grand fireplace. As for the painting there were lots though I instantly recognised the one Lex had referred to.
"This is the painting, the safe is behind it. You should probably opened it." Lena says pointing to the painting and taking a step back.
I reach over and take down the painting sure enough there was a large lead lined safe behind it. It required a code to open. I thought for a moment before typing in a code.
"I don't know the code..." Lena said before seeing I had already opened it.
"How did you know the code?" Lena asked shocked.
"It was your birthday." I state simply.
"Really? Father said he never used birthdays as they were to easy to get." Lena says shocked.
"Well the code was 0221, which is your birthday, February 21st." I say reaching into the safe.
"Oh okay. Is the kryptonite in there?" Lena asked.
"I think so, I think it is in this." I said lifting out a briefcase.
"Open it." Lena says.
"I can't it needs a code and this one is definitely not your birthday." I say laughing slightly.
"How many numbers? Lena asked.
"14" I replied.
"Try 19...21...16...5...18...13...1...14" Lena say thinking slightly.
I type the numbers in and the case unlocks. I lift the lid slightly and there is a glowing gold light. The kryptonite. I close the lid and lock it. Making a mental note of the number.
"How did you figure out the code" I asked Lena.
"It's Lex, brilliant yet simple Lex, the number correspond to letters, they spell out..."
"Superman?" I cut Lena off.
"Exactly." Lena laughs.
19. Chapter 19
Kara's POV:
"Well now we have found the synthetic kryptonite we should probably go to bed, it's late." I say putting the case back into the safe until the morning.
"We should, I don't know about you but I am exhausted." Lena says yawning.
"After you then." I say walking over to the door and holding it open for Lena.
"Such a gentlewoman." Lena says laughing slightly.
"I try." I joke. |
516dba76921042009393ccf2cd8692bb | ['b44a2e42f95b4a7d9f04cee424e89ed9'] | bffaeaeaeaeae: ooooohhh im actually so excited LETS DO THIS
queen of lesbians: you know if you actually make it accessible Stark Industries could probably sell the program or something
queen of lesbians: i can talk to pepper and hope about it
garage kid: guys pls I’m gonna cry
garage kid: you don’t have to do all that!!
garage kid: besides you don’t have that much time left to program it
im liberian: stop underrestimating us people of colour, white boy
bffaeaeaeaeae: yeah harley, coffee and desperation can get anything done in a few days
Iron Machine: While I do love all of this and totally support the creation of this program, I'm going to have to discourage you from consuming excessive amounts of coffee. Please actually take care of yourselves kids. Don’t be like Tony.
Peter: damn r O A S T E D
Peter: oh!! harley!!
garage kid: yeah?
Peter: i already know a lot of ASL and will brush up on it again so as long as you don’t go too fast I should be fine!! :)
garage kid: hnnnng
queen of lesbians: lmaoo you broke harley
garage kid: gay.exe has stopped working
bffaeaeaeaeae: fjkfjfkfj
Peter: o:
im liberian: now that’s a mood!!
robo bro: i also know ASL and would be happy to assist you at any time! :)
garage kid: thakns vissin
bffaeaeaeaeae: are you crying
garage kid: NO SHT UP NDE!!
queen of lesbians: awwww
Peter: actually um i have an idea pls tell me if it’s dumb but
queen of lesbians: go on peter
Peter: I think that people living at the Compound should at least learn the basics of ASL?
Peter: like not only because it’s always good to know another language
Peter: it would be more inclusive
Peter: plus the avengers could use it during fights if they have to keep quiet
Iron Machine: That’s an excellent idea Peter! One of the Rogue Avengers actually is deaf but aside from Tony no one actually bothered to learn the language when they lived and worked together. I think it’s time we change that and make sure any future recruits know that they’ll be accepted and understood. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.
queen of lesbians: i’m gonna suggest ASL courses to pepper and hope, I think it would be great if at least the higher ups would learn ASL
queen of lesbians: maybe basic ASL to everyone, but that could be a thing for the future
queen of lesbians: there’s a lot of employees so let’s just start with higher ups and department heads, anyone who is in charge of more than a dozen of people or something like that
im liberian: im gonna talk to my brother about maybe integrating sign language courses in schools in wakanda, i don’t think we have them simply because no one has ever brought it up yet you know
im liberian: it certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone to learn it
im liberian: and I’m gonna teach myself the basics of ASL so i can understand you harley
bffaeaeaeaeae: mj can we please do a campaign at school for ASL courses. that way it could be more accessible to anyone who wants to learn!!
Peter: yes!!!
queen of lesbians: sure but why are you asking me
bffaeaeaeaeae: because you’re good at organising and planning this stuff and everyone is scared of you
queen of lesbians: point taken
Peter: guys where’s Harley
FRIDAY: Harley has been crying with his phone in hand for the last 10 minutes.
garage kid: SHUT UP FRIDAY
Peter: oh my god
queen of lesbians: who knew he had feelings?
Peter: mj dont be rude
queen of lesbians: aw
bffaeaeaeaeae: hARLEY WE LOVE ADN SUPPORT YOU
im liberian: I LOVE YOU BITCH
im liberian: I AITN EVER GONAN STOP LOVING YOU
im liberian: BITCH
garage kid: pls stop i don’t know how to handle feelings
Peter: we love you harley!!!!
queen of lesbians: yes we do!! ned, you and me are gonna force peter to help us learn the basics of ASL this week !!
bffaeaeaeaeae: YESSS
garage kid: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> yes, I'm a genius
>
> if any of you are hard of hearing or deaf and I'm saying something that is offensive or just simply wrong/doesn't make sense, let me know.
>
>
>
> also yes, every single of one those nerds would die for the others. i fucking love them
46. harley is crying again
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for all your comments, I'll try to reply them after I post this chapter. I need to post it first or I'll forget to do it, because I'm an idiot.
>
> I have like 90 comments to reply to so I hope you're all ready to have your inbox blown up.
>
> love you all, enjoy <3
Text Messages:
The Mechanic: Hey Kid
Harley: hey old man
Harley: what’s up
The Mechanic: is there a reason why ned and shuri are apparently working on an AI that is solely focused on translating from and to ASL
The Mechanic: and why MJ already knows about it and told Pepper and Hope about not only the AI, but the idea of making at least higher ups at SI and PT learn the basics of ASL
The Mechanic: and why Rhodey suggested mandatory ASL lessons for anyone who lives at the Compound, especially Avengers and Avengers-in-training
The Mechanic: and why Peter is asking me to hack your medical records so he can make you new and better hearing aids??
Harley: ummmmmm
Harley: wait
Harley: PETER IS MAKING ME WHAT
The Mechanic: seriously?
The Mechanic: That’s what shocked you?
Harley: yes because i already know that the others wanted to do that
Harley: but peter wants to make me new aids?
The Mechanic: Yeah
The Mechanic: He has been researching like crazy | dbc5b838b8594c88a09a43b50f445fe2 | ['b44a2e42f95b4a7d9f04cee424e89ed9'] | The Mechanic: Right now he’s working on the design
The Mechanic: Personally I think it should be red and gold, but he isn’t accepting my wonderful idea
The Mechanic: I’m so impressed, I’m pretty sure if we work on them more we could sell them at SI
The Mechanic: Harley?
The Mechanic: You still there kiddo?
The Mechanic: FRIDAY what’s going on?
FRIDAY: Harley is crying again, boss
The Mechanic: again?
FRIDAY: Yes. When Harley told his friends about his disability yesterday they immediately came up with different ideas to not only help him but also others with issues with hearing. He started crying.
The Mechanic: oh
FRIDAY: Peter did not tell Harley of his idea for new aids at the time. I’m not sure if he had that idea later on or just decided not to tell him right there. Though he said he would brush up on his ASL and is helping Ned and MJ learn the basics of the language.
The Mechanic: jesus
The Mechanic: kid?
Harley: yeh
The Mechanic: you okay?
Harley: yes
FRIDAY: Boss, I think you should also look out for news about sign language classes in both Peter’s school and Wakanda’s schools.
The Mechanic: dear god
Harley: friday pls stop making me cry
The Mechanic: I’m glad you have them as friends Harley
Harley: me too
The Mechanic: do you believe me now when I tell you that there’s much better people than the ones who go to school with you?
Harley: yeah
The Mechanic: I’m glad
The Mechanic: You deserve more people like Peter, Ned, Mj and Shuri in your corner Harley
Harley: thank you tony :)
The Mechanic: of course kid :) <3
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Direct Messages:
#1 intern -> h
#1 intern: tony is a snitch and I’m going to eat all his blueberries
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> yes, harley has shitty ass "friends" in tennessee but they're the only ones he has and tony has been on his ass about how he deserves better than that and that there's better people than those in rose hill
>
>
>
> and just for the record: I am slowly, very slowly getting to writing the end of this story. But I'll probably turn it into a series. What do you think?
47. can i ask or
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> oof i have a headache!!! love crying because of fanficiton!!! the best!!!
>
>
>
> im a mess
>
>
>
> again if anything around the issue of being hard of hearing sounds just,,,wrong...tell me!!
>
> enjoy <3
Direct Messages:
#1 intern -> h
#1 intern: tony is a snitch and I’m going to eat all his blueberries
h: wow that’s evil
h: you’re a monster
#1 intern: shut up :((
#1 intern: i wanted to surprise you
h: you really don’t have to make me new aids
h: the ones i have are fine
#1 intern: okay first of all i want to
#1 intern: and secondly stop lying
h: ok sorry :(
h: but you can still surprise me if you want
#1 intern: how
h: with the colours and the design
h: just don’t make them red and gold or captain america themed
#1 intern: ohhhh
#1 intern: okay
h: yay!!
h: you’re the best, thanks babe
#1 intern: babe?
h: yes
#1 intern: okay fkfjf
#1 intern: so uhhh
#1 intern: can i ask or
h: you can ask
#1 intern: have you always been hard of hearing or
h: yeah, my hearing has never ever been perfect
h: between yelling at home and fireworks at new years and the 4th of july it kept gradually getting worse
h: then there was the mandarin thing
h: that messed up my hearing even more
h: it would’ve been better if it hadn’t all happened on christmas and therefore surrounded by days full of fireworks and loud music lmao it really fucked with my hearing
h: plus i was an idiot and as soon as tony upgraded everything in my garage i started doing experiments aka blowing stuff up
h: then i got sick and had like,,,a minor ear infection
h: so yeah
#1 intern: oh
#1 intern: im sorry
#1 intern: if i can help in any other way let me know
h: peter you absolute angel please stop worrying
h: you’re doing more than enough
h: hell, even you knowing ASL is amazing to me
#1 intern: oh yeah i learned it after my parents died
#1 intern: i didn’t talk for a while and then some other traumatic shit happened so yeah
#1 intern: some days or weeks i just wouldn't talk so it was necessary
#1 intern: i almost forgot most the language until i saw some asl classes offered for free in my neighbourhood so i used that to catch up again and now i use it regularly with a few of my neighbours and on patrol and stuff so yeah
h: oh
h: shit im sorry that’s terrible ://
h: but I’m glad that you can still use it!!
#1 intern: yeah honestly every kid should be taught ASL from birth, it’s just all around useful
#1 intern: you never know when you might need it
#1 intern: and kids learn languages more easily when they’re young
h: true true
#1 intern: seriously though if you need anything tell me
#1 intern: dont be a stubborn idiot and keep quiet
h: okay
h: i wont
h: (:
#1 intern: thank you :)
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[ 5 minutes later ]
h: actually can you send me more selfies it would really cheer me up
#1 intern: FUKCJFJKFD HARLEY
h: what??
#1 intern: wH Y
h: i told you
h: you’re ridiculously handsome and i like looking at your face
#1 intern: hnnnggg
**Notes for the Chapter:** |
f77fceed899e4440829aebfa6e2a72ea | ['b4c2a71e8e6f435bb5dc6a5526f19f8e'] |
Epsilon and Dr. Riviera
“You’re supposed to be creating biological weapons, not a mascot for a kid’s TV show.” Xephos loomed over the doctor, giving him a displeased look. “You’ve done good work with subjects Alpha through Delta, but this one is hardly of use to us.”
The doctor took a tentative step forward. “Now now sir, while I will admit that Subject Epsilon is rather… lacking in terms of her combat abilities, she has proven herself more than capable of assisting me in my work.” He could tell she was pulling faces and was trying his best to shield her from Xephos’ view, if only slightly.
“Be that as it may you still have a job to do, if it were anyone else I would have had them fired by now, but considering your circumstances I’ll let you off this time.” Xephos turned and began to walk down the corridor, stopping just short of the door before facing back to him. “I expect a new weapon soon Dr Riviera, and make sure it works this time.”
The door slid shut as the doctor breathed a sigh of relief, turning and placing a hand on the shoulder of the creature behind him. “Let’s head back Epsilon, it seems we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
* * *
Back in the relative comfort of the lab the doctor collapsed in a chair and rolled it along the floor towards one of the various terminals that were scattered throughout the area.
“That guy’s a real jerk y’know, why do you always act so formal around him anyway?” Epsilon’s voice still retained the sassy tone that the doctor had hoped would eventually subside.
“You mean Xephos? Well for starters don’t let him hear you calling him a jerk, and aside from him being my boss I also owe him for a lot of things in the past” He turned on the chair to face her. “And you should be careful how you act around him too, it would be a shame if you ended up like Delta.”
Epsilon cocked her head to the side quizzically “I feel like I’ve heard that name before, what happened to them?”
The doctor sighed “Delta was your predecessor, the creation that came before you. As for what happened to them, it’s probably best you don’t know.” He turned back to the terminal and continued his work.
Obviously displeased by the doctor’s less than informative answer Epsilon clung to the back of his chair, shaking it to distract him “C’mon Doc, you’re always hiding things from me. I think I deserve to know at least this.”
The sound of typing stopped as the doctor stood up and began walking away, motioning for her to follow “If you’re that curious about it then I guess I have no choice, but don’t blame me if you don’t like what you find.”
The two were standing in one of the back areas of the lab, a large machine with a small monitor facing towards them. “This server has access to all the restricted files in this department of the facility, you’ll find what you’re looking for in there.” He turned to face Epsilon “And I don’t think I need to explain that we’ll both be in big trouble if anyone else finds out I let you do this, right?”
Epsilon nodded back as she approached the monitor and began looking through seemingly countless file names until she came across what she was looking for, a file simply titled ‘Subject logs’. She scrolled through the logs until she reached those belonging to Subject Delta and was immediately taken aback as the word ‘Terminated’ flashed in front of her, after reading through the log she quietly stepped away and returned to the doctor’s side.
“Do you see now why I told you those things? If Xephos thinks that anyone could be too much of a danger to the facility he won’t hesitate to use the most drastic of measures, the same goes for if they don’t contribute enough.” He looked down at Epsilon. “C’mon, let’s get back before someone sees us here, we still have work to do remember.”
Epsilon didn’t respond, but merely nodded as they both began walking back to the labs main area.
* * *
The rest of the day seemed to be proceeding exceptionally well, the doctor had managed to collect everything he needed to begin construction of his newest creation, in large part due to Epsilon’s assistance. However, as the hours went on he could tell that Epsilon seemed different than before, mainly that she had been practically silent as she went around helping him.
Eventually the lack of noise got the better of him and he stood up from his terminal, sighing as he looked for Epsilon. It didn’t take long before he found her silently sorting through a shelf of various containers.
His mind raced through a thousand different ways to approach her, but in the end, all he could manage was a simple “Hey, Epsilon.” To which she slowly turned to face him, her expression now much sombre than before.
He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I realise that showing you all of that was probably not the best idea, and I fully understand if you hate me for it.” The rest of his words were halted as Epsilon rushed to him, clinging to him as she began weeping softly.
“No, I don’t hate you. It’s just that, after reading those files… After finding out what could happen to me, to both of us. I just got so scared.” She continued to cling to the doctor, tightening her grip as she buried her face in his lab coat.
The two stood in silence for a while before the doctor spoke once again, placing a hand on Epsilon’s head and stroking it lightly. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, but you have to promise me that you’ll do as I say from now on okay?”
She looked up at the doctor and nodded, tears still in her eyes. “Ok, I’ll do my best, but could you promise me something in return?”
The doctor smiled “I can certainly try, what is it?”
She shuffled uncomfortably for a moment “It’s about my name, or rather what you call me. Calling me by my subject name just seems so… impersonal and distant, and I’d like you to change that.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow “Well that seems simple enough, and I’m sure if I explain it to Xephos he’ll understand. So, what kind of name did you have in mind?”
Epsilon’s face lit up at his words, still clinging tightly to him “How about Epi, it sounds similar enough, plus I think it’s cute.”
The doctor thought this over for a while before nodding back at her “Sounds good to me. So, should we get back to work Epi” He said motioning to nothing in particular.
“Lead the way Doc.” She giggled as the two returned to their work. | 07924dfb664e44afaa87bc02f673d3c1 | ['b4c2a71e8e6f435bb5dc6a5526f19f8e'] |
1. Out with the old
_What have you done with your life,_ the thought had never really passed through his mind before, but now it was all he could fathom. The debris strewn around from what was once his lab only served to reinforce his thoughts.
_All that work and for what? Nothing but a pile of rubble and debris,_ he pulled himself back to his feet and began dusting off his coat, only to find his left arm unresponsive. Rolling up the sleeve the reason became immediately obvious, various shards of bone stuck out from the skin as the limb dangled helplessly at his side, he figured the only reason for the absence of pain was the mixture of adrenaline and multiple potential concussions from the events prior, that and the incessant voice that pounded in his skull.
_You never look at the bigger picture, always so focused on the here and now,_ the voice continued as he tried to pull his mind away from his now useless arm, he made his way towards what used to be his main workstation in the hopes that he could salvage at least some of his work from the destruction that surrounded him. It took some time but eventually he managed to find what he was looking for, a small USB drive that appeared mostly undamaged in the ruins, the relief was pleasant but short lived.
_You’ll need to move on again, leave this place behind just like before,_ the voice seemed to taunt him as he began preparations to leave his old lab behind. The idea didn’t sit well with him but he knew that the events prior would have attracted more than its fair share of unwanted attention, and considering the nature of his work that was far from a good thing.
_You’ll never belong anywhere. But there’s something that needs to be done before that isn’t there?_ The voice was right, as he looked down there was indeed something that needed to be dealt with. After clearing space on a table and finding a few necessary tools he laid his mangled arm down, he knew he’d have to work fast or else the numbness would begin to subside.
_That’s right, discard it like the other broken things in your life,_ He took a deep breath as he positioned a bonesaw on his arm, closing his eyes as he began amputating the limb. Whilst he couldn’t feel pain, he could still feel the sensation of each muscle and tendon being severed by the saws teeth, the sound of tearing flesh that had seemed so familiar to him before now seemed alien and intimidating. He only stopped and opened his eyes once he heard the dull thud of the other end of his arm hitting the table, he quickly bandaged his wound and stood up shakily before grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, taking one last look over the destruction before leaving it behind him.
* * *
As he stepped out of the small building that held his lab he was immediately hit by the cooling evening air, he could already hear what seemed to be a large group coming to investigate the disturbance, he quickly made his way towards the forest, trying to put as much distance between himself and his lab as possible.
_At this point I’m not even surprised you messed it all up,_ this comment stung worse than the previous ones, mostly because of how much it rang true. He did indeed have a tendency to ruin just about anything he tried to do, not that he was entirely to blame, his working conditions were far from what one would call optimal. It was only a matter of time before he went one step too far, and this might just have been it.
A short while later and his consciousness began to wane, causing him to lose his footing and collapse to the path. Shakily he picked himself up and steadied himself against a nearby tree, his vision hazy and spinning for a while before eventually returning back to normal.
It wasn’t long before darkness began falling around him and his pace began to slow, the numbness that offered him a small glimpse of comfort was beginning to dissipate and give way to searing pain, the only warmth he felt was the blood that soaked through his bandages and onto his clothing, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go much further in his current state, that he should just give up there and then, but things were never that easy.
_You’re not finished yet, far from it. Now get moving,_ again the voice berated him as he continued on, as strange as it seemed he almost welcomed the rather unconventional company, even if it only seemed to serve the purpose of sapping his will it was certainly better than suffering in solitude.
As the last of the light faded from the forest around him and the cold of night settled in proper his consciousness began to wane again, the path ahead was completely obscured and every step felt like a bigger undertaking than the last. Eventually he could go no further, leaning against a tree on the roadside before sliding down to a sitting position, He could no longer feel the warmth of his blood, only the pain in his bandaged stump. As the last fragments of his consciousness faded he heard the voice say one last thing.
_Guess I’ll have to take things into my own hands then._
2. In with the new
When his consciousness returned, he found himself in a rather different environment, from the looks of things he was in some form of shack or cabin that hadn’t seen any use for an extremely long time, a thick layer of dust covered almost every inch of his surroundings, save for the clear trails he had made whilst unconscious. |
854190e160e2457e8b729d8b22228325 | ['b4ced74eba2740678148d274dadb2dfa'] | _ “We’ve been through this! I feel nothing for him! I love you, Koutarou– not Terushima.” _
_ “People change.” _
_ “So you doubt me.” _
_ “Not necessarily, but-” _
_ “You don’t trust me. That I love you.” _
_ “I know you love me. For now.” _
_ “Koutarou, please.” _
They drift. Skype calls are a rare occasion between their jobs and commitments. Akaashi travels more and more, while Bokuto takes a flight back home and decides that he despises airports. He finds himself a job, goes back to school, ends up drowning his sorrows by surrounding himself with others– old teammates, his new roommate Kuroo, and an astrophysics major with the biggest ego Bokuto has ever encountered. He still talks to Akaashi, but the calls are always cut short, ended with a bitter goodbye and tears on Bokuto’s keyboard.
_ “Guess what?!” _
_ “Yeah?” _
_ “Keiji, I got another degree! I actually finished the courses this time!” _
_ “That’s great.” _
_ “And guess what it’s in?!” _
_ “Good to hear, Koutarou.” _
_ “Keiji.” _
_ “Nice, nice…” _
_ [call ended] _
When Akaashi comes to visit his family at Christmas, Bokuto doesn’t pick him up from the airport. They meet on the street as Bokuto and Kuroo are moving their stuff into a crappy, rented apartment, and for a day, they’re back to being what they once were. Later on, Bokuto heard Kuroo telling Konoha how he’d never seen the owlish male so happy before. Konoha replied with a quiet recount of what Bokuto and Akaashi had been like in high school. And the memories came rushing back in a flood of nostalgia.
* * *
**_v._ **
_ “Your contract is over now, right? You can stay here with us?” _
_ “About that…” _
_ “You can get to know Kuroo– he’s great, I’m sure you’d like him, he’s a human cat, I swear– and Oikawa! He majors in astrophysics- you liked space too, right? His boyfriend is pretty cool too- a bit violent if you ask me, but he majors in biomed and keeps Oikawa under control. Oh, and Konoha and Komi ended up at the same college as I did! We can do a team reunion and-” _
_ “My contract extended, I’m flying to Italy tonight to meet Terushima.” _
_ “What?” _
_ … _
_ “I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore.” _
_ “Koutarou, what are you trying to say?” _
_ “Five years, Akaashi. Five years long-distance. I can’t take it.” _
_ “What are you doing, Kou- are y–” _
_ “I’m sorry.” _
It’s several weeks before he leaves the apartment. Everyone is concerned about him but he could care less. Akaashi doesn’t call anymore. Bokuto barely touches his laptop, and it stays on his desk, collecting dust in his bedroom. Konoha insists that he try to fix things with Akaashi, but he refuses, his eyes watering at the mere mention of the other.
_ Akaashi Keiji: Bokuto-san, I’m going to be back for a week in June. _
_ … _
_ Akaashi Keiji: [message has been deleted] _
* * *
**_vi._ **
He refuses to watch Akaashi’s movies after the first time _. _ Dragged to the theatre by Kuroo and Oikawa, he manages to sit through the film– enjoying it, even. Noticing, of course, from his years with the former setter, the amazing cinematography, which is almost enough to send him spiraling into one of his crap moods as he’s reminded of Akaashi, how much Akaashi would like it, what Akaashi would have said about it. He can barely hold himself together. Until, of course, the credits, when he sees the bright, bold letters. **Keiji Akaashi.**
Then he breaks down in the middle of the theatre.
_ Bokuto Koutarou: [message has been deleted] _
* * *
**_vii._ **
It’s years before they see each other again. Bokuto and Kuroo are together, finally, after weeks of prompting on Oikawa’s part, and the raven-haired male does his best to console the other at the sight of Akaashi and Terushima, hand in hand, in town to accept some award that Bokuto didn’t give a fuck about anymore. The younger male’s eyes go wide, a hurricane of emotion flicking between them in a single moment. Love, hope, nostalgia, resentment, bitterness, hate. A spark of something, some distant, far-off emotion that was reminiscent of the bond that they used to share. A flash of the heartbreak that seemed to follow them at every turn. A single, choked sob, swallowed by the hurt and pain the seeped from the crumpled pages of their story.
It ends as quickly as it began. Akaashi is pulled along by Terushima, and Bokuto turns his attention back to his worried boyfriend, both of them ignoring the prickling behind their eyes. Everything that they had left to say had been said. It was the end of their chapter. The end of what they had been and what they could have become. It was the end of _ them _ . For good.
**Author's Note:**
> sort of inspired by 'on the wings of love' because im an otwolista with need for hurting my favorite characters..
> my tumblr is burnt-quesadilla feel free to come yell at me for this angst or talk to me about haikyuu or anything else, really. | f614ef6950314ce8be8b7f820a54b652 | ['b4ced74eba2740678148d274dadb2dfa'] | “It is, though-- isn’t it? Where- where’s Pidge? Lance, I’m not- tell the other, yeah? M’sorry. It was- it was nice, having a family-- loved it, all of it, wouldn’t trade it for anything. Loved you, too, did you know that?” He’s rambling now, the words spilling out because what else can he do? He’s dying and there’s so much that he still wants to say, so damn him if he isn’t going to try and cram it all into the few moments he’s got left.
“You-”
“Don’t. Don’t interrupt me-- just. Thank you- you and everyone else, sorry to… to die, really… you have to win now, though… please, win, for me...”
“Keith? Wait, Keith, just- few more minutes, don’t-- stop, stay awake, come on..”
He can’t. He can’t stay awake. He tried to- for Lance, he tried. He just can’t, though.
“I’m sorry, Lance.”
**Author's Note:**
> so yes, i love to Suffer
>
> i'm burnt-quesadilla on tumblr if you want to yell at me. |
8749e8c96042437d9150ab8a22797117 | ['b4de22d1396c44cd9a816cd6c36a6094'] | Yuuya buries his head in his knees and cries. Shingo stares, dumbstruck, because there’s nothing else he can do now. This is the kind of cry – messy, loud, pitiful – that can’t be stopped by hell or highwater. The ace of Academia sobs into his blanket while the son of the next Major General does absolutely nothing.
*
The next night, Shingo pretends to sleep until Yuuya goes to bed. He doesn’t want to talk to him again, let alone see his face, and he’s sure his roommate feels the same. What’s there to say? They’ve already said all they could to no avail, both of them entirely unable to comprehend the other. Yuuya will have another nightmare tonight and Shingo will rock him gently by the shoulders to make him sleep, whether he’s an apostate coward or just a scared little boy like the rest of them.
But when the night wears on and there’s no sound from the other side of the room, Shingo clambers out of bed anyway – half out of curiosity, half out of habit. There’s his tomato hair sticking out from under the bedsheets, his uniform jacket flung sloppily across the headboard like always, and the blank wall Yuuya tore clean of pictures long ago. But there’s something new on the bedside table, next to his duel disk. Five cards, face-down.
Shingo turns over the first card and recognises it immediately – with no title and a blank bottom half, it’s definitely a sealing card. But when he sees the face of the person inside, all the air goes out of his lungs: it’s a thick-eyebrowed guy who, if not for the hair, would look exactly like Gongenzaka.
He turns over the next card and this time it’s Yuuya’s mother, her hair dyed deep purple and her features frozen in agony.
The third card has three kids at once, mouths open wide in terror, faces plucked straight from the family pictures Yuuya can’t bear to look at anymore.
Reira’s in the card after that; the eyes of this boy are green, but that fearful, thousand-yard stare is one of a kind.
And the last card, right in the centre, is Shingo’s own face staring right back at him. Whoever this boy was, he was caught in the middle of a scream: backing away from the duel disk, hair flattened against a now-invisible wall, eyes electric with fear. The sight makes Shingo want to fling the card out the window and erase it from his memory, but that’s not all – scrawled across the bottom half of the card in inky crimson are two desperate words:
It was a mistake to say it out loud. The sheets rustle in Yuuya’s bed, and Shingo whirls around in a panic. But Yuuya doesn’t yell – he just stares, quietly, with his large red eyes. Then he smiles, like he always does, except it’s different. And then he laughs, like he always does, except it’s also different. His laugh goes up and up and up and it never stops, high and broken like glass, shattered in the lime moonlight.
2. Chapter 2
“Don’t ask for my forgiveness, idiot!!”
Shingo’s first response to Yuuya’s laughter, against all better judgment, is to wrap him in a large hug. At the very least, it shuts him up from sheer shock.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Shingo says into Yuuya’s hair, and he’s surprised to find that he means every word. “We’re at war. We do what we have to do. So stop apologising, Yuuya.”
For a few long seconds, Yuuya’s rigid as a board. Then, like a miracle, he melts – leaning into Shingo’s arms and settling against his chest, breathing even and gentle. Shingo can’t see his face, but he’d like to believe he’s smiling for real now, with the smile that truly never dies.
When Shingo grows up and becomes the Major General of the Obelisk Force, he’ll chastise his subordinates for cowardice and treachery as much as he wants. But for now, he’s just Sawatari Shingo, and Sakaki Yuuya is his friend. And even if he knows nothing of Yuuya’s pain, at least he can be here for him now, in the night, when the stars stop being real. | bf4428e3746a45d29118dc6f353f0bf5 | ['b4de22d1396c44cd9a816cd6c36a6094'] | Whether it’s despite or because of his family name, Yuuya also enters Obelisk Blue. In fact, they're assigned to the same room. They sit on their matching beds making their walls their own: Yuuya sticks up pictures of his family and friends – a blonde-haired lady who looks like his mother, a pink-haired girl who could be a sister, a thick-eyebrowed guy who doesn't look related at all – while Shingo lines up some of the parallel rares he doesn't have room for in his deck. He’s got a neat row of twelve, shimmering faintly in the scarce sunlight that gets through the windows.
"Wow, that's a lot of rares, Sawatari."
Shingo grins, leaning back on his hands to admire his work. “There’s lots more where those came from! Only the best for the best duelist, and parallel rares are obviously the best cards of all.”
"I don't know about that..." Yuuya muses, taking out his deck and riffling through it. Shingo can't see much from the other side of the room, but Yuuya's cards are so garish and colourful he'd notice them miles away. His monsters are completely unfamiliar to Shingo, mostly because they're the kind he would toss aside without a second glance: a cartoon rattlesnake, a really muscular gorilla, and is that... is that a hippo –?! "Rare, not rare... I think every card's got something special."
Maybe Shingo doesn't like this boy as much as he thought.
But before he can really give Yuuya a lesson in the proper appreciation of parallel rares, it's time for the welcome assembly. They shrug off their salt-stained clothes and don the deep blue uniforms proclaiming them the elite trainees of Academia, the heavy fabric setting their shoulders high and straight as they walk into the main hall. Yuuya finds his Ra Yellow friends right away – Yuzu and Gongenzaka, as he introduces them, before they strike up a conversation and disappear into the crowd. Of course, it's not like Shingo doesn't have friends too! He's got _more_ friends than Yuuya, even – but just as he's about to regale Ootomo, Yamabe, and Kakimoto with his first Obelisk Blue stories, the Professor arrives.
They've all been waiting their entire lives to meet this man. His is the face they see in every textbook, in every newspaper, on TV screens every half-hour – but those are cheap counterfeits compared to what’s in front of them now. Even his two sons and successors, legends in their own right, seem invisible at his sides. With his broad, dark shoulders and his purple robes flowing behind him as he crosses the hall, it's like he could eclipse the sun. When he reaches his throne and turns his gaze upon his students, it's like his eyes could put out fires. And when he starts to speak, it’s cold and cutting, damning XYZ to ruin and razing the whole dimension to the ground with his voice alone. Yet his icy words ignite the whole room into a battle cry. Shingo's heart burns like a supernova – he's here, he's finally here, and he's going to make the whole world proud.
(And there's his father, standing along the far wall in full regalia with the rest of the Professor's escort. Shingo rushes to the front like a bullet when the cohort is dismissed, going as fast as he can with all the other students in his way, but Papa's gone before he can reach him.)
*
Total victory. That's what you're taught at Academia: you can't just _beat_ an opponent, but you have to crush them till there's nothing left. So they change the blades of your duel disks into swords that remind you to kill, and they teach you all the ways to do it quickly with one-turn kills and even first-turn kills, draining the other duelist of all their life points before they can make a single move. They even give you a new deck for maximum brute force – large, armoured Antique Gears that form a iron wall at your backs when you all march into battle like the unstoppable force you are.
Shingo thinks the Gears are ugly. Why would he, the son of the next Major General, want to use the same deck as everyone else? At least the uniform and duel disk look nice enough, but _total victory_ isn’t as flashy as it sounds. After a few months of duels that end too fast and repeat the same thing over and over and over, he starts dragging his feet to class. It’s not that he’s slacking off – he’s a top student, he’s sure! – but it just gets so _boring_.
Sakaki Yuuya isn’t boring, though. He calls his and his father’s style _entertainment dueling_ , and that’s exactly what it is: somehow he’s taken his standard-issue deck and created a show all his own. He handles his Gears in a wildly different way each time, dancing around his opponent before beating them into the ground, all the while sporting a smile that never dies. Even card sealing becomes interesting when he does it, and that’s just pressing a few buttons on your disk to trap your downed prey in empty cards – Yuuya seals his enemies like he’s sending off the dead, folding at the waist in a deep bow and turning each purple flash into a funeral pyre. Needless to say, when it’s his turn in the practice arena, everyone comes down to watch. |
80d08a1f166d49ed85ca17cd82319d6c | ['b4dff2db7873462a933ec2d66f123f90'] | I can’t hold myself back, I raise my hand and put a finger into his dimple. His cheek is hot and tinted slightly pink. I can’t wipe the smile off my face, a slight blush appears on my cheeks. He puts his hand on my hand that is touching his cheek. Then he lowers our hands and intertwines them, he puts his other free hand on my cheek. He starts to lean closer, when our lips are about to touch he stops. I am ready for the kiss but get filled with disappointment when he stops.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly since our faces are so close to each other. My heart skips a few beats and then melts. No guy has ever asked me this kind of question before. I can’t speak so I just nod. He doesn’t hesitate. Our lips connect, he starts the kiss softly, easing me into it. His soft lips taste like the black coffee with sugar that he drank in the cafe. I’m pretty sure that he can taste my too sweet, salted caramel latte. I can feel him smiling into the kiss. His hand moves from my cheek to my neck, suddenly his smile disappears and he becomes hungry. His kissing gets bolder and more aggressive. I kiss him back as skillfully as I can, I try to keep up with him. Then he stops. He takes his coffee flavoured soft lips off of mine. As soon as they are away from mine I want them back, I need them back, how can lips be so addictive.
My face turns into a frown, “Joonie~why did you stop, am I bad at kissing?” I have no idea where this cute side came from. Right now I’m willing to do anything to kiss him again, I need those skillful lips on mine. “Sorry (Y/N), but were in a public place and if I didn’t stop there, then I would of done something that is not appropriate.” he has an apologetic look on his face but his eyes are getting hungrier with every moment that passes. Since my need for his lips isn’t fading but instead getting stronger I gather up my courage and ask: “Do you perhaps have a place in mind where we could have a bit of privacy? Something nearby if possible. I would suggest my apartment but that is an hour away from here. I wouldn’t tolerate that hour.” He thinks for a moment.
“Yes I do have a place nearby, the downside to that is I share it with some people. But I do have a room that I can lock for privacy also if I tell them to not disturb I believe that they will listen to me. Should I text them?” he asks me to hear my opinion. I immediately answer: “Yes but hurry please! You are addictive you know that right?”
He smirks as he takes his phone out, opens a group chat and types a quite long message into his phone. I count 6 names that are in that group chat except Namjoon. I can’t read them because they are upside down.
The chat gets really lively all of a sudden. He reads the chat and rolls his eyes. Then in caps lock, he types a question. Every response comes in slowly and all the answers are the same, they are all “yes”. I see Namjoon smile triumphantly. “Okay i will give a longer explanation later, but here's a brief explanation: I live with 6 other guys, 3 of them are home right now and other 3 are outside running some errands in town. The 3 at home promised to not disturb us. We can continue in my room. Don’t worry I can lock the door for extra privacy.” He explained speedily.
Our hands still intertwined, I nodded and then stood up. He stood up aswell, we started walking. It took us 10 minutes to reach the apartment. We hurried upstairs. He unlocked the door and let me in first. The 3 boys that were at home heard us and came to see who it was. I had taken off my red converse and my jacket then noticed that there were three boys lin the hallway, looking at me and Namjoon. Since I had no idea where I should put my stuff I asked them where I can put my things. A boy with pink hair and small hands took my converse and put them neatly on a shoe rack. Then a boy with white hair and a gummy smile took my coat and hung it where their coats were. Namjoon came beside me and put an arm around my waist. His touch shot electricity through my whole body.
“Hyungs didn’t I ask you something that you agreed to?” he asked with a slightly annoyed voice. Shock and fear flashed across their faces.
“Ahh, yea sorry we just wanted to treat our guest nicely.” A boy with a honey smooth voice apologized on behalf of him and the other two. Then they slowly disappeared. I didn’t care about them right now, all I wanted were Namjoon's lips on mine again. | 1f265446a66e45d2b7234398df5909e1 | ['b4dff2db7873462a933ec2d66f123f90'] | I find a bench and collapse down on it and let the tears and happy emotions run out of me. I smile and cry at the same time. It feels weird but so good at the same time. After some crying I take out my phone and text my international army friends explaining everything that just happened. Still crying but not as agreesivly as before. They all respond to me and I can be exited with them, they tell me how jealous they are but happy. all the conversations are in caps lock and with a lot of exclemation marks. They all demand the selcas and I send all of them. In total I got 98 pictures and they are all so wonderful. I actually like how I look in all of them. All of my friends compliment me and how cute I look with all of the members. I can hear them crying in their countries. I keep texting as I walk back towards the hotel because I need to get ready for my family dinner plans. and I have to put my things together for tomorrow’s concert. Ahh today feels so unbeliveable but so real, I'm really happy. I hope I never forget today. I hope I don’t forget the compliments jimin gave me, or how it felt when kookie held me, or how they all were so happy to meet a fan randomly on the street.
* * * * * * *
It's slowly getting dark outside, the sun was already setting and painting the sky beautiful colours. The warm summer breeze is blowing my hair into my face. I was soon going to be back at my hotel. I had a private room in the hotel, my parents had a room to themselves and my two siblings had their own room. I’m so happy that I have my own room because now I can fangirl all night. I think I’m going to read some fanfics since I usually don’t have a lot of free time to do that. I notice a shop that is open and decide to enter it. It’s a small convenience store, I feel even more lucky now. I’ve really wanted to try some honey butter(buddha) chips for quite a long time. I spot some and there are just a few bags left. I grab two bags and a ice tea from the fridge so I have snacks for the night that is going to be filled with fanfic and fangirling. The cashieer is really nice and I can understand her easily. After I’m done in the store I start walking back to the hotel. My phone rings after a bit of walking, it’s my mum. She calls to ask me how much longer I’m going to be outside because they want to go to the dinner earlier if possible. I tell her I’m going to be there soon and that I need to only put some things away and change into a dress. She tells me to hurry. I quicken my pace and arrive at my room in 5 minutes. I throw the bag with chips, ice tea and some chocolate on my bed and then change into a flowy summer dress I have with me meant for the fancy dinners that happen every evening with my family. I hope this dinner isn’t going to be a flop and that I don’t get into an argument with my parents again.
As I touch up my makeup my mum knocks on the door signalling me to come out of my room. I turn off the lights and open the door. My family is waiting for me behind my door. We head outside to grab a taxi and head to the restaurant.
* * * * * *
Four hours later I arrive at my hotel, tired and full from the dinner. First thing I do is plop on made bed and rest a little. I had to leave my phone in my hotel room because my mom gets really mad when I play with my phone at our important family dinner. I look at my phone and see that twitter has gone wild. I have a lot of notifications, I think 3 meters long. |
68307ede5de34a72b9b5f0c67c9d9bf4 | ['b4e30492f63842a59f2d49a869482579'] | "I love you, baby. Mackenzie is staying at Danneel's for the whole weekend, right?" Jared asked. Jensen's stomach tightened in jealousy. Why would he bring his sister up at a time like this? He nodded.
"Yeah..." his voice trailed. Jared growled and roughly pulled Jensen down.
"So I get to fuck you all weekend, baby? Keep your hole all loose and sore?" Jared hissed. Jensen bit his lips before surging forward and kissing Jared's lips. Jared roughly squeezed his ass cheeks. Jensen eventually pulled away.
"I'm sorta hungry, J." Jared stared up into his lover's eyes for a few moments, eventually breaking out into giggles. Jared sat up slightly and kissed Jensen's cheek.
"What would satisfy your hunger, baby?" Jared uttered biting his lips. Jensen flashed a teasing smile as he crawled his way down Jared's body. He swiftly took his flaccid cock into his mouth, his plump lips surrounding Jared's tender skin. Jared's eyes rolled back as he ran his fingers through Jensen's floppy blonde hair. Jensen shifted his head slightly and gazed up at Mr. P., his cock hitting the back of his throat. Jensen knowingly relaxed his throat as he made enthusiastic noises. He slid the cock out of his mouth and stuck out his tongue, subsequently slapping it with Jared's cock. He smeared the precum across his tongue and swallowed it as he continued to jerk Jared's cock. He gently tugged it upwards and lapped at Jared's balls. Jared thrust his hips forward. Jensen paused his lapping to take a breather.
"Am I good, Mr. Padalecki?" Jensen asked, crawling back onto Jared's lap. He discreetly lifted his hips up and sank onto Jared's cock. Jared felt as though his body was on fire as Jensen worked himself on his cock. A smile drifted onto his lips simultaneous to Jensen grasping onto his hair like a well-taught pornstar. Jared had to keep pinching his arm in order to remind himself that Jensen was indeed ten years old and not a freshly-turned eighteen year old pornstar trying to pay his way though life. Nonetheless, Jared could see himself getting used to this.
* * *
"Want to have a lick, Mr. P?" Jensen inquired innocently, hovering his ice cream come in front of Jared's face. Jared laughed and shook his head. Jensen had suggested that the two go to an ice cream parlor the following morning. Jared observed Jensen cautiously slide into the booth he was already resting in. Jensen winced upon doing so, subsequently pressing his body against Jared's. They entwined fingers as Jensen continued to lick at his cone. Jensen's lips became smeared with ice cream, causing his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. Jared had to fight the urge to not bend the boy over and fuck him over the table. Instead, he ran a shaky hand through Jensen's hair.
"Nah, kid. I'm good," Jared assured. Jensen raised an eyebrow at Mr. Padalecki.
"No, Mr. Padalecki. You're well. Also, you weren't sayin' that last night when I sucked you," Jensen hissed out, aiming to get a flustered reaction out of Jared. He succeeded almost immediately.
Jared coughed lightly and drifted his hand down to Jensen's thigh. He squeezed the inner area. Just as he did this, a loud shout reverberated through the ice cream parlor. Jared turned towards the person, his face immediately lighting up upon realization. He stood to his feet and greeted the person with open arms. Will grinned as he embraced his friend. His fingers lingered on Jared's waist simultaneous to Jared finally pulling away. Jared continued to gaze at his best friend in awe. Will always managed to look so beautiful, his floppy brown hair shying away from his hazel eyes; dimples peaking through his cheeks and accenting his face. Jensen clenched his jaw and remained tense upon the arrival of the attractive friend Jared seemed to hold dear. He decided right then and there that he didn't like Will. He didn't like him at all. Will waited for Jared to slide back into the booth and did the same. Jensen clenched his fingers. Jared squeezed his thigh reassuringly. Will giggled.
"So what are you two doing here?" Will asked, briefly bringing his attention to Jensen, who quickly looked away from him in distaste. Will clicked his tongue as Jared coughed uneasily.
"What does it look like, Will? We're eating ice cream, silly," Jared teased, kissing Will's cheek, not caring if anyone noticed them. Jensen's stomach turned. Will grasped onto Jared's hands and entwined their fingers. Their little actions were so comfortable to them, Jared completely forgot about the much younger boy sitting beside him.
"You're watching this little runt all weekend, eh?" Will quipped, inching his face closer to Jared's. Will captured his bottom lip with his teeth, his mind mulling over many thoughts of what he wanted Jared to do to his body. Will was a virgin. Sure, he had blown many guys in the neighbourhood but he never let anyone enter him. He was saving that for someone special, and that special someone was Jared. Jared nodded.
"Yes. All weekend with this beauty," Jared cooed, leaning down slightly and capturing the top of Jensen's head with a kiss. A blush travelled up to Jensen's cheeks as his ice-cream began to drip down his fingers. Will raised his eyebrow at the suspicious action Jared had just conveyed. It was almost as though... | 12ddb979ceec445298c61c0d16f0f7ba | ['b4e30492f63842a59f2d49a869482579'] | The two roamed town, hand in hand, as they picked up various fruits and vegetables. Jared briefly brushed a strawberry over with his fingers and brought it to Jensen's lips. Jensen eagerly took a bite and motioned for Jared to do the same. Jared complied immediately, keeping eye contact with him as he did so. Jensen smiled up at Jared as Jared gently pulled him closer. He gazed down at his lover lovingly, his arm wrapping around Jensen's slighter frame.
"You're beautiful, darlin'. Absolutely gorgeous," Jared mumbled. A blush travelled up to Jensen's cheeks as a figure behind Jared's shoulder came into view. Jensen momentarily focused his eyes on the figure, noticing after a few moments that it was Will. Jensen clenched his jaw in jealousy. Out of all the people he could have witnessed today in town, Will was the last person he wanted to see. He swiftly kissed Jared, simultaneously grabbing onto his face. He licked at his bottom lip, causing Jared to allow his tongue to entwine with Jensen's. Jared was shocked by Jensen's sudden actions but followed through. He eventually pulled away, his forehead pressing up against the smaller man's. Jensen smiled up at his boyfriend.
"Could Will kiss like that?" Jensen asked, his voice still hoarse from the kiss. Jared shook his head.
"No one can kiss like you, Jen. Not even-" he explained before he was cut off with a tap to the shoulder. Jared quickly turned around.
"Will! Hey, man!" Jared greeted, forcing a smile onto his face. Will smiled up at the man, completely ignoring Jensen. Jensen, however, wrapped a possessive arm around Jared's waist. Jared knowingly leaned into the touch.
"Hey, Jare-Bear. What are you doing out on the town with your... leech?" Will sneered, finally looking at Jensen. Jensen attempted to lunge at him, but was blocked by Jared. Jared clenched his jaw.
"Don't you fucking call him that," Jared hissed, influencing the attention of various town-goers. When Jared was angry and the town was witness to it, no one dared to cross paths with him. Everyone knew that what Will had just said was going to land him in some hot water. Will, nonetheless, scoffed. He looked from Jensen to Jared, then right back to Jensen. His eyes landed on his lips.
"Cock-sucking lips. That's all you're good for. I was better for Jared; more than you will ever be, you fucking slut," Will sneered. Jared couldn't hold back his anger any longer and swung a punch at Will's face. Will staggered back and dabbed at the blood that had shot from his nose. He clenched his jaw and turned to Jared.
"You're making a big mistake, Jared. A big one," Will hissed, eventually pushing his way through the growing crowd that had surrounded the trio. All Jensen could do was breathe heavily. He didn't even realize that he was grasping onto Jared's hips too hard until Jared winced and pulled out his grasp.
"Jensen, please calm down," Jared tried to reason. Jensen shook his head and finally turned to look up at his lover. His voice felt hoarse as he muttered his next four words.
"I want him dead."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> JUST A FILLER |
c3bac8b9c9904299a3b0eba34682a7eb | ['b4ee92ffb6cb45b8b558df9afce1ddd5'] |
The Progress We Make
1. **_one step forward_**
Virgil lays across the couch, feet propped in Roman’s lap, tiredly blinking up at the marks on the ceiling. His cellphone is a comforting weight on his chest, buzzing every once in a while with a stray notification- likely tumblr. The television flashes, reflecting blue and purple lights on the ceiling. Virgil draws in another breath. Then sits up tiredly, letting his phone drop into his lap.
Roman looks away from the television and smiles at Virgil. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”
“It is not yet morning, Roman,” Logan spoke up from his spot on the floor, just below Virgil. “It is 10 PM.”
“Eleven,” Patton corrects from beside Roman, smushed up against his side. “We’ve been watching for an hour.”
Logan looks startled and checks his phone, eyes widening. “We should be asleep.”
“One night won’t kill us, Sir Nerd.”
“Roman. Shut your mouth,” Logan snaps.
Virgil rolls his eyes with a snort, shifting his legs off of Roman’s lap. Logan rises and tells everyone of his plan to go to bed and how they all should attempt to do so as well within the next half hour. The three stay in silence. Roman and Patton watch the television quietly while Virgil tiredly unlocks his phone, scrolling through Tumblr.
Eventually, Patton rises and tells the two that he is heading to bed. He tells them he loves them. He bends down and presses a kiss to Roman’s forehead. Before Virgil can even consider what’s happening, Patton is leaning down, gently brushing a kiss to the top of Virgil's head too.
“Love you, kiddo,” he says quietly and walks off, like he hasn’t smacked him in the chest with the biggest bout of warmth Virgil has felt in a long time.
Virgil rubs the top of his head, the ghost of the kiss still there. His hands are trembling and he lets them drop into his lap as he gazes at the television, eyes unseeing.
“He loves you,” Roman says quietly.
Virgil looks up. “Hm?”
Roman mutes the television and crosses his legs, turning to Virgil with a lopsided smile. “He does. Patton. Loves you.” His fingers tug nervously at his white pyjama bottoms and he looks back to Virgil with the same smile still there.
“Okay?” Virgil says hesitantly. The two go quiet for a long moment. Then, Roman meets Virgil’s eyes again.
“I’m sorry.”
Virgil frowns and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Why? For what?”
“For everything,” Roman says. He’s stopped looking at Virgil now, eyes trained down to his fingers, which twist onto his lap skittishly. “For making you out to always be the antagonist, always making you out to be the man in the wrong. For treating you like an outcast. For...for hurting you. Like that.” Roman looks back up. “It was undignified and cruel and I’m sorry.”
Virgil can’t help his cynical smile or the remark that comes out. “Another apology from Princey? Wow. I think you’ve broken some record.”
Roman flinches. “I’m sorry, Virgil. Really. And I want to... be your friend. After everything- I’d understand if you completely hated me.”
Virgil’s smile drops. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “I forgive you. All right? I do. And we’re already friends. We’ve just gotta... you know. Work on stuff. And it’ll work out- er, work _better_ , with time.”
Roman smiles, eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”
“Sure.”
“Fabulous.” Roman rises. “Goodnight, Dark Knight.” He winks and heads off to his room, too-big pants dragging the ground as he goes.
Virgil sits on the couch a while longer, phone pressed against his chest, and eyes shut, as he dwells over Roman’s words.
_I want to be your friend._
Finally, Virgil rises. He shuts off the television, folds Patton’s discarded blanket, and turns off the lights. He goes to sleep with a calm beyond description settled in his chest and mind.
1. **_two steps back ( & maybe a 1/2 of one forward)_**
Virgil’s never been fond of yelling. Especially when it’s amongst his friends, not enemies. And sitting in Thomas’s living room, while everyone yells (besides Patton- but Virgil is almost certain Patton is incapable of yelling), and accomplishes absolutely nothing.
But, oh, he must be some sort of hypocrite because he thinks he’s the one yelling the loudest.
“-And, and, AND! We cannot let his fiend stifle your dreams any longer!” Roman shouts.
Virgil rolls his eyes as Thomas raises an eyebrow and says, “Roman, buddy, Virgil isn’t suggesting we up and quit our dream-”
“No,” Logan agrees. “Virgil is merely suggesting a break. And while I disagree with the duration of the break- an eternity is an unreasonable amount of time and you know it-” Virgil scowls and Logan merely adjusts his glasses in response, “a break nonetheless is what everyone here needs. Roman, you are overworked.”
“Hypocrite!” Roman shrieks.
Virgil rolls his eyes again, and grits out, “We’re all overworked. Even me.”
“Me too,” Patton finally says quietly, breaking his silence.
Virgil eyes him warily, concern flooding his chest. Patton merely smiles back. Virgil knows it’s fake and Patton must notice the scrutinizing gaze Virgil is giving him, because he shrinks a little further back.
“So... we settle on a reasonable sized break,” Thomas says. He looks at Roman, expression inviting. “It’ll do us all good.”
Roman frowns, then slumps his shoulders. He nods.
“Excellent!” Logan says. “I will begin immediately planning the optimum time of rest for us all.”
“Logan, you don’t have to start right away- ah. Oh well. He’s already gone.”
And indeed, Logan had sunk down already, apparently to begin planning.
“I’m... sorry, you guys. I got a little... passionate there,” Roman admits.
“You did,” Virgil says. “But it’s okay. We all mess up.”
“So I’m... good?” Roman asks.
“You’re good, Princey,” Thomas says. | 5850f6329d3e4c3f8974c26bac85d5b2 | ['b4ee92ffb6cb45b8b558df9afce1ddd5'] | never have i ever...
**Author's Note:**
> Prompt: Logince strip poker/some kind of strip game
“Never have I ever masturbated in a public restroom,” Logan said.
Roman grinned. “Boring,” he said, yanking off his belt and tossing it across the dorm. “Never?”
“Never,” Logan said, swallowing and trying not to stare at Roman’s bare chest.
“Huh. Never have I ever studied astronomy.”
“That’s not fair,” Logan said. “You are aware of my major.” Hesitantly, he tugged off his left sock. His heart hammered rapidly in his chest, all too aware that the next item he would have to remove would be either his shirt or pants.
“Still counts,” Roman drawled. “Looks like we’re tied again.”
“Falsehood. You have two articles of clothing left- I have three.”
“My choker counts.”
“Your choker absolutely does not count.”
“I let your glasses and your tie count,” Roman pouted.
Logan swallowed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Never have I ever participated in a theatrical performance.”
“Cheater.” Roman tugged off his choker and tossed it. “Your pants are looking a little tight there, Einstein.”
Logan felt his face flush. “It is your turn,” he choked out.
“Never have I ever had sex in a closet.”
With shaking hands, Logan unclasped the buttons to his shirt and carefully tugged it off his upper body. The chill of the dorm curled around his body and he felt insecure of his lack of muscle compared to Roman’s.
Roman, however, did not seem to care about that and merely whistled lowly. “Oh wow, I never would have pegged you for the type to fuck in a closet, but… damn.”
“Never have I ever cheated on an exam.”
Roman smiled. “Never. Never have I ever been involved in an intense BDSM scene.”
Face flushing even more, Logan worked at tugging off his pants.
“Holy shit, Logan. Who was it with?”
“Virgil,” he mumbled.
“The _poetry_ boy?”
Logan nodded.
“Oh my God.” Roman laughed. “That is surprisingly hot.”
Logan ignored him. “Never have I ever had a pet.”
“Never.” Roman grinned wickedly, looking down at Logan’s boxers, his obviously hard dick pressing at the fabric. “Never have I ever slept with Virgil Foster.”
“That’s not fair,” Logan said.
“Perfectly fair,” Roman argued. “Besides, it looks like that might need some tending to…” He gestured to Logan’s crotch with a smug look on his face.
Logan swallowed and carefully slipped the boxers off his legs, erection exposed to the cool air.
“Want me to help out?” Roman asked softly.
“I...” Logan swallowed. “I- Maybe… Yes. Please.”
Roman crawled over and straddled Logan’s upper thighs. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to Logan’s lips, trailing a hand down Logan’s stomach. Logan felt himself twitch from the touch, fearing Roman’s possible disgust.
“You’re so hot,” Roman murmured against Logan’s lips. “You know that?”
Logan didn’t respond, arching up as Roman’s hands made their way down to Logan’s dick.
“Lay back,” Roman said, voice husky.
Logan obeyed.
Roman slid his hands down Logan’s thighs then maneuvered himself so his head was at level with Logan’s dick. He took the member up in his mouth and began sucking, tongue sliding across the shaft. Then Roman pushed his head further up, bobbing his head and Logan groaned, staring at the ceiling. He tried not to squirm in pleasure, just trying to relax and enjoy the sensations of Roman’s warm mouth over his dick.
“Roman,” he warned. He found his hands reaching up and gripping at Roman’s hair, his legs trembling and dick twitching. Roman's hands reached over and pulled Logan's wrists, pressing them down against Logan's stomach. “Roman, I’m going to cum. I-” He arched and groaned as Roman lightly grazed his teeth over Logan’s cock and Logan’s bare ass steadied back against the ground, chest heaving as he took deep and shaky breaths.
Then, he was cumming in Roman’s mouth, Roman swallowing it then drawing away, licking the tip of Logan’s dick and giving Logan a small smirk.
“You look a little wrecked, Lo.”
“Shut up,” Logan panted, sitting up and running a hand through his sweaty hair. “I cannot believe I just did that.”
Roman pouted. “I didn’t do a bad job, did I?”
“No,” Logan reassured. “Absolutely not. I- I feel bad.”
“Why?”
“Nothing,” Logan said. “It is not important.”
“C’mon, I just gave you a good ol’ fashioned blowjob.” Logan flushed at that and Roman went on. “We can share feelings now.”
“We have only known each other for two weeks.”
“Yeah. So?”
“I do not want you to feel used.”
“And you say you don’t have a heart.” Roman grinned and laid his hand down on Logan’s still sensitive dick and gave it a small squeeze. Logan groaned lowly and his legs twitched from under Roman. “I don’t feel used. If anything, I don’t want _you_ to feel used.” Roman was beginning a pattern of rubbing his hands across Logan’s soft dick. The muscles in Logan's stomach trembled.
“Then don’t feel bad. I get to show off all my talents and you get to enjoy them.”
Logan frowned. “Talents?”
“Oh, sweetheart… I have all night to show you. Lay back down.”
Once again, Logan obeyed. |
8983e5a8e375461aa827a6a6c01d043e | ['b4f43a6bf42c4ecbbb7353a1c1c2a1d4'] | Rhett looks at Link, soaked and confused.
“Uhhh...welp... that's never happened before.”
Rhett throws his head back in laughter.
Link, eyes the size of saucers, can only mutter, “oh gosh.”
And this point they’re both laughing in fits.
“I can't breath. The look on your face! This has never happened to me before.
“I would say I'm sorry but I'm not. I just made you squirt. I'm the fucking man…”
“Yeah? You think you're the man? Come prove it.”
2. Autumn
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sometimes things get dark and it's hard to find out way out. Domestic bliss isn't always easy.
Autumn:
Link supposes he should have noticed this sooner. First it was the tossed pillows and angry words. Then came the temper tantrums, the rage, and finally the numbness. But all relationships take time to adjust...right?
Sometimes you need to smacked in the face with reality before you realize something is actually wrong.
He fumbles with the keys as he delicately balances a small birthday cake and a dozen roses. He puts everything down on the counter and tiptoes into their bedroom. The apartment is pitch black and silent.
He finds Rhett, asleep, and dishes on the bed from when Link brought him breakfast that morning. His hair is greasy, his eyes are puffy, and Netflix is asking if anyone is still watching.
“No.” Link thinks to himself as he turns it off and sighs.
He walks into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He runs his finger through his dark locks.
“Fuck.”
************
Rhett wakes up to the sound of Link pacing the floor and talking on the phone. He's both anxious and exhausted despite sleeping the whole day. He listens closely.
“Yeah that's fine. We can do small.”
“And there's running water and heat and everything else?”
“How secluded are we talking?”
Rhett quietly emerges from the bedroom wrapped in a comforter. He’s like a ghost. He's been like a ghost for a little while now. Link waves and points to the counter and begins wrapping up the phone call.
“Yes I'll stop by tomorrow and check it out! Thank you for being available on such short notice.”
Rhett is staring at the cake and the flowers. It can't possibly be his birthday today. How could he have forgotten that?
At the exact moment Link hangs up the phone Rhett starts bawling. It's as if every tear he's struggled to hold back for a month has finally found its way out.
Link throws his arms around the merman.
“I am so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry I fucked this up. You're miserable. And I caused this.”
Rhett is crying too hard to respond.
“No. I took you away from the only home you ever knew and confined you here. Fuck. Well that's gonna change ok babe? I love you and I'm so sorry. I'm going to make this better. I promise.”
They lay on the couch holding each other tight. Link lays gentle kisses on his love.
Link gets up and begins clearing the bed of crumbs and tissues. He begins running a bath for Rhett.
Rhett looks up with eyes ravaged by tears.
“Do you still love me?”
“Of course I do.”
Link brings over the birthday cake with candles lit.
“Make a wish.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Comments are love! They keep me going!
3. Winter
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Domestic bliss isn't always easy. But sometimes it is.
Winter:
He glances down at the last box to be unpacked and begins pulling out and sorting the contents. Link looks around at their beach home. He keeps describing it as comfy but, to be honest, tiny might be the more appropriate word. But the size wasn't exactly the selling point.
He grabs his cardigan and ventures out into the chilly morning. Link watches for a quiet moment as Rhett swims off the coast.
Rhett yells, “Come in.”
“It's too cold!”
At this point it's pretty clear Rhett has moved from a nice morning swim to an attempt to impress Link with backflips and huge splashes. Link rolls his eyes, laughs to himself and wanders back into the house. He has no intention of inflating that boy’s ego by watching his performance.
When Rhett finally comes in from swimming, the first thing he does is to throw himself on the couch. He watches Link add the final decorations to the small Christmas tree in the center of the room. The small house is glowing with strings of multicolored lights in every room.
Link looks back at Rhett and sighs.
“You're totally soaked and you thought laying on the couch was a good idea?”
Rhett looks up with a pout and puppy eyes.
“But I'm so cute.”
“Unfortunately that's true.”
Link sits on the opposite end of the couch and he looks over at Rhett. He knows what Rhett is about to do but is powerless to stop it. Suddenly he has a very wet tail flopped onto his lap.
“You're wet.”
“You never complained before.”
“Inappropriate.”
Rhett begins whining and flipping his fin. Link knows this is the merman’s way of asking for a fin rub.
Rhett turns on Netflix and is now completely engrossed in some kind of nature documentary. Link smirks and begins gently massaging his mate’s tail. He thinks to himself how totally normal this moment feels. How he’d never imagined this kind of strange domestic bliss. This moment - this moment is perfect.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments. Let me know what you like.
4. Spring
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Pleasure and pain. Domestic bliss isn't always easy.
Spring
In rare form, Link finds himself awake before Rhett. The bed is roasting and he's covered in sweat. He steps out into the cool house and realizes it must be his bed mate that is making it so warm. | 82ce2acaacea4494903c3e830028f32b | ['b4f43a6bf42c4ecbbb7353a1c1c2a1d4'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> According to this article - sleeping with a concussion is actually a good thing. So don't worry about Link.
>
> https://www.marshfieldclinic.org/news/cattails/2014-winter-cattails/medical-myth-busters-concussions
Chapter 1
There are conflicting reports about what it feels like to drown. Some people claim that right before the water enters your lungs an overwhelming sense of calm hits you. As if your body has finally accepted the inevitable. Others claim that drowning results in horrific pain as your body attempts to fight off the water at all costs.
Of course Link happens to be unconscious as he slips under the waves that afternoon so he feels neither agony nor bliss.
In fact, Link doesn’t feel anything until he has woken up hours later lying on what appears to be a secluded beach covered in palm trees. His paddleboard is laying next to him.
It is difficult for him to tell if the throb in his head has come from straining his eyes without his glasses, a concussion, or most likely both. Despite his confusion he realizes how lucky he is to be alive.
Link also has the uncanny feeling he is being watched. He glances around though between being disoriented and effectively blind, it isn't helping.
He stands up and begins staggering towards the water. The walking is making him feel even dizzier and he is close to giving up until he sees a flash of green in the water. Ignoring the pounding in his head he steps into the water. Before his foot has even landed he hears a distinct shout of “Stop.”
Link freezes. He is watching this green streak in the water approaching the shore. Link can feel his anxiety building. Before he can even process what he's seeing a head has popped out of the water. Link begins to slowly back away from the water but eventually his lightheadedness forces him to sit on the beach.
He is overwhelmed by what he is looking at. It appears as if someone, a very green blur of a someone, is awkwardly moving along the beach. Before Link can even consider the sight before him he hears a lulling and almost hypnotic voice commanding him to stay still. The melodic voice is explaining that Link crashed on his paddleboard, was pulled under the current, but that he’s going to be ok. This creature offers to take him back to shore if he’d like.
Link thinks to himself the whole speech seems rather rehearsed. This isn't the first time that, well whatever this person is, has rescued some poor wayward soul from the sea. Link’s anxiety is subsiding and slowly being replaced with curiosity. In a moment of boldness he shouts to the creature that he can't see. He gestures toward his face.
The creature’s rehearsed persona melts away and he excitedly exclaims, “Right! You must have those things that help you see! If you wait here I'll go get them.”
Before Link can protest (or process for that matter) what is happening, the creature has shimmied off of the beach and is diving into the water. Link begins to seriously consider his own sanity as he finds himself once again drawn into sleep.
After several hours Link is slowly waking up. He begins to sense that he is, once again, not alone. He's opening his eyes when he feels hands gently and hesitantly putting his glasses on his face. When Link finally opens his eyes he is face to face with a rather strange and eerily beautiful individual.
The first thing Link notes is how this creature is both strangely human and also otherworldly. He is scanning this man’s body noting dark thick green hair and beard, lighter green skin, and stormy gray eyes. This creature’s skin is covered in darker green streaks. Something finally clicks in his head as he notices the shimmering fin.
Link knows he should probably be scared. Logically speaking meeting your first merman should be a terrifying experience. But there’s something about the kindness that is radiating off of this particular merman that is quelling Link’s anxiety. He is finding himself in absolute awe of this man’s beauty. He can feel his cheeks getting warm and knows he must be blushing. He finds his eyes gravitating toward the merman’s lips.
After a moment of silence and careful consideration Link asks aloud, “Am I dead?”
The merman before him chuckles loudly. He reaches playfully over to Link’s wrist and mimics taking his pulse. The merman announces, “nope, I'm pretty sure you're alive.”
Link nods thoughtfully to himself. After a few moments of staring and forgetting to breath he finally asks, “Who are you?”
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Link struggles with some growing feels. And gets to touch a merman.
After several hours of laying on the beach and talking Link has learned several things. The creature laying next to him is named Rhett and is, in fact, a merman. Link’s also learned that he was apparently pulled under by a wave, knocked out, and is only among the living because Rhett happened to see him.
As for Link, he explains that he's lived in North Carolina his whole life. He had always intended on venturing out but never really found a reason. So he took the safe route and ended up an accountant in his hometown. Link doesn't have a girlfriend unless you count that hot mess of a blonde he hooked up with a couple of times. He sighs, “Could my life be any more boring?”
Rhett laughs and says, “You could be single and 100 years old! I mean, to be fair, merfolk are fairly solitary and I'm not interested in a mate right now. But I also wouldn't say my life is thrilling. You're the most exciting thing that has happened in a long time.” |
ba6b5b6fa37246edb9b5a5e8ed20ab80 | ['b5001268e29d4bf189f18bab7bac2936'] | "Kate," Maxine snaps, finally boiling over, "The bullshit you're spewing isn't helping anyone."
She shoots a glare Kate's way as she crosses her arms, and Maxine can't help but give her a little credit by not looking offended or hurt by Maxine's words.
Rachel, however, doesn't follow that sentiment. She kicks Maxine in the shoulder, "Max! The fuck!"
The pain shoots through that spot but Maxine is hardly fazed as she slowly takes in what she said. Her glare becomes a frown as she looks anywhere but Rachel and Kate.
_ Fuck me. That wasn't supposed to slip out...but she crossed a damn line. She's backing us into a fucking corner. _
But even with that train of thought, she uncrosses her arms and closes her eyes as she sinks back into the couch, "Fuck. I'm sorry, Kate. That was insensitive of me."
"I understand," Kate says slowly, "I don't believe those words sometimes either."
Rachel kicks Maxine again who's body rocks from the action but she still keeps her eyes closed as she tips her head back.
_ Why am I such an asshole? _
Then she sighs to herself. She was being too harsh like always.
_Max is fucking right. Ugh. Fuck her._
Rachel huffs, "Jesu-Sorry, Kate," Rachel then clears her throat, "When did you become such a brick wall, Max?"
Maxine grits her teeth as she can feel another retort try to shoot up her throat.
_ Maybe it's because I just witnessed my best friend die in my arms today. _
"I don't know." Maxine sighs out, a bit dejectly, as she opens her eyes.
She's greeted by Kate's caring gaze and Rachel giving her a non committed glare. Maxine could tell she didn't mean it to be harsh. Just to hide everything else she was feeling.
"Today has been...shitty," She admits, "A lot has happened in such a short amount of time and I can hardly keep up with it all."
"That...yeah. I know what you mean." Rachel says as she leans back into the arm of the couch.
Maxine then looks down to Kate, "I am really sorry for being such an asshole, Kate."
"You're alright, Maxine. You're going through a lot."
_ Fuck yeah I am, you fuckin- _
She cuts her own thought off by speaking, "Yeah..."
Kate then turns to the boxes around her knees, "What tea would you like?"
Rachel shrugs, "Whatever is fine, Kate. Thanks."
Kate nods and grabs a tea bag and places it into Rachel's mug. She grabs Earl Gray for herself.
Maxine looks them over briefly. She knew most of them. Tori did quite like her teas, "Black tea , please."
Kate smiles ever so slightly. Which Maxine is pretty sure is a genuine smile, "Picking a bitter tea for once. You normally avoid those like the plague."
Maxine shrugs, "Might as well mix things up a bit."
Rachel then nudges Maxine's knee with her foot, "I hope you mean the tea and not the bitchy behavior."
She rolls her eyes at that, "Ha. Ha. You're so funny."
Rachel shrugs, "I only learned from the best."
Kate passes them their mugs after adding a few spoonfuls of sugar to each drink. Rachel blows on hers as Maxine thinks of a comeback. She knew who Rachel was referring to, and the best had some really good disses that had been thrown her way a few times in Oblivion.
"You wish. She at least did a good job of tearing into you while making everyone laugh their asses off. Kate didn't even giggle."
Rachel rolls her eyes and hides her smirk behind her mug as she attempts to take a sip of her tea.
Kate then chooses this moment to add in, "Would the best have been Chloe?"
Rachel's smile fades at that.
_ Nice going, Kate. You killed the fucking mood. _
Maxine takes a sip of her tea as Rachel gives a nod.
Kate smiles again, "She was always the prank-"
"Is," Rachel croaks out, "She is a prankster."
Kate's eyes turn sad at that.
Maxine sips at her tea and stares at the floor like it's the most interesting thing. She hadn't even realized that Rachel was only using present tense when talking about Chloe.
_ Holy shit. That's fucking depressing. _
"Chloe isn't gone..." Rachel says softly, "I mean...she is physically, I know that but...you know..."
"Just because we might refer to someone in the past tense doesn't mean they are gone spiritually, Rachel." Kate says softly.
Rachel sighs, "I know. I know. I just...Fuck. Can we stop talking about Chloe now?"
Kate just gives a nod in reply as she sips at her own tea. Maxine licks her lips slightly as she snuggles back into the couch, elbows resting on Rachel's legs as Rachel stare into her mug quietly.
Maxine's heart grows tight at that as she watches Rachel stares sadly into her mug. She shifts the mug to be held in one hand as with her now free hand she pats then rubs Rachel's knee in a comforting manner. Rachel relaxes at that and sips from her mug as she sighs. Maxine's action did a good job at calming Rachel down it seemed. Which Maxine made note of.
Rachel liked physical contact. Which did make a lot of sense. Rachel did always seem like the physical type. With how much she touched others.
So Maxine continues her action as the three all sip their tea in silence. Which Maxine only found a little annoying. It gave her the feeling that Kate had only invited them here to get them to talk about Chloe. But she understood that Kate just wanted to help her friends. Even if it was way too early for healing, in Maxine's opinion. They had just lost Chloe. Barely an hour or so ago. | 5acc2591affd4803a040027384df977b | ['b5001268e29d4bf189f18bab7bac2936'] | Jack’s face contorted at that comment. Her tattooed body was tense and on edge. Shepard could see how the straps that covered her modest chest clung to her skin and hugged her middle, which left little to the imagination, as her back was ramrod straight. It was like she was trying to stand taller than Miranda in an intimidating way. Similarly to how cats arch their backs to look bigger when they fought. Shepard would have compared this to moose locking horns in a battle for dominance if she didn't find this so childish.
Jack pointed her finger straight in Miranda’s face. She raises her voice at Miranda’s remark when she spoke,“Screw you! You have no idea what they put me through! Maybe it's time I showed you!”
Shepard stepped fully into the room. The door closed behind her as she now stood between the two woman, arms raised slightly as if to prepare to keep them apart if one of them decided to follow through with the threats they threw around. She looked to either of them as they were still engaged in their staring contest. Jack was going to hate her for this but she was sure she could deal with an angered Jack over a pissed off Miranda.
She took a deep breath then turned to look at Jack, “When you agreed to work for me, you agreed to be a part of a Cerberus mission.”
Jack looks surprised for a split second till that surprise turns to anger. She steps back from Shepard and Miranda, the hurt clear in her eyes. At that, Shepard regretted what she said. She should have sided with Jack. What the hell was she thinking?
“You're both assholes.” She locks eyes with Shepard, her next words directed toward the Commander, “You want me to fight for you, fine. You want anything more, go fuck yourself!” With that Jack’s body flares with botics as she storms from the room. She forces the door open with a swing of her arm. Shepard’s eyes never left her. She was sure she saw tears pepper the corner of her eyes. The pit in her stomach returned.
Then her attention was drawn back to Miranda who spoke, “Thank you. Sorry about that...I hope she doesn't cause us more trouble than she's worth.”
Miranda returned to stand behind her desk. Shepard tore her eyes from Miranda and before the Cerberus women could ask what was wrong, Shepard hurried from the office after Jack. She sped walk to the elevator. Her pony tail bobbing as she does so. Maybe she could even catch up to Jack before she reached her hidey hole. That was highly unlikely but she wasn't going to wait. The longer she waited, the angrier and more hurt Jack was going to be.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn't think of what to say or do when she would finally get to Jack’s place. She was so worried she had messed everything up. That all the progress she had made with Jack was just spaced like trash. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself not to worry and to think this through. She would tell Jack sorry for sure even as pathetic as it sounded. She would also explain her reasoning for her actions.
The elevator came to a stop. She stepped out as soon as the door opened. _ Deep breaths; deep breaths _ , she told herself as she made her way down the steps into the ship’s depths. Jack sat on her bed. Her head was bent as it rested in her hands. Shepard tried her best to stay quiet but the last step always creaked even with as much as she wished it didn't. She flinched as Jack looked up. Her chin now resting in hands.
A frown was clear on her face as her eyebrows angled down as she spit out bitterly, “I got nothing to say. Why don't you go talk to Miranda?”
She then refused to make eye contact with Shepard as she made her way into the cramped space. She crossed her arms as she stood before Jack’s bed. It was more like she hugged herself to help stay calm as she stated, “Don't tell me you fell for that.”
Jack then made eye contact with her. They locked eyes as she asked in a confused tone, frown still clean on her lips, “What are you talking about, Shepard? You sold me out.”
Shepard sighs and stands straight. She wasn't sure Jack was going to buy her explanation but it was worth a shot, “Look, unless you got your own secret network of contacts, I need to give Cerbereus-and Miranda-a little lip service now and then. Cut me some slack, alright?”
Jack scoffed at that then laughed, “Fine. Don't do it again. I'm not playing second to the cheerleader this whole trip.”
“You've never played second to Miranda, Jack.”
Jack looks up fully at that. She sits up. She huffs but moves to the side so there is space on the bed for Shepard to sit. She smiles at that. She was hopeless for sure but at least Jack didn't hate her. She took a seat and leaned into Jack. Her head resting on the botic’s shoulder. Jack wasn't much of the “touchy feely” kind of person but Shepard was by a long shot. She never got much back from Jack on those side of things and most times she was pushed away. But Jack stayed still.
She closed her eyes as she spoke, “I'm really sorry about that. I should have never agreed with Miranda.”
“You said it yourself, you need to kiss Cerberus' ass sometimes.”
“Yeah...but I could have-”
“I forgive you. Can we just end it at that?” |
ad283d49002543f193e599e82c4e28da | ['b500541d552e40e2a6beeef86d422652'] | Malvolia’s desire is unambiguous. Like Olivia, she has turned her back on the male sex entirely. When Olivia inquires “what kind of man” Cesario is, Malvolia says, with a disgusted shudder: “Of… _man_ kind.” Later, when sent in pursuit of Cesario to deliver Olivia’s ring, Malvolia catches “him” by the guitar strap and wipes her hand off afterward. Boys have cooties. If Olivia became Oliver, Malvolia would no longer be interested. Unlike Orsino, Olivia, and Sebastian, Malvolia knows exactly what--and who--she wants. It is this certainty that brings about her downfall and, later, her resurrection.
When _Twelfth Night_ belongs to Malvolio, turning him into a self-aware, self-loving lesbian is an extraordinary act.
In fact, in the NT’s production, Malvolia’s lesbianism becomes part of the reason (though not the entire reason) why the letter plot is devised in the first place. In reaching out to Olivia at night, Malvolia is interrupted by the music from Sir Toby’s rager. Furious, she storms out of Olivia’s room and upbraids the partygoers for doing the very thing she’d intended to do herself: disturbing her lady’s rest. Her frustration is palpable, and moments later, is made only worse by the female Feste rubbing up suggestively against her. “Ginger shall be hot in the mouth,” Feste breathes. Malvolia immediately fists her hands at her sides while her eyelashes flutter.
Sir Toby tries to take her down a peg, asking her, “Art any more than a steward?” She holds herself perfectly still as he invades her personal space and mocks her for being “virtuous”--a word that, when applied to a woman like Malvolia, carries the unmistakable connotation of virginity. Sir Toby is making fun of her for being an old maid.
And, quivering with sexual frustration, Malvolia does something inexcusable that seals her fate: she blames Maria for the whole mess, grabs her by the hair, and hisses in her ear that Olivia shall know about the party “by this hand”--a hand that never finished its reach toward Olivia moments before. She holds on just long enough to make the audience wonder if she really wants to let go. She probably doesn’t; she needs badly to touch a woman. This need manifests itself in aggression that I will not attempt to justify.
It also terrifies Maria. She gulps, goes pale, freezes in place, and when Malvolia leaves, cries out in rage: “Go shake your ears!” This is a departure from any other _Twelfth Night_ production that I have ever seen (five total, including this one), in which Maria is offended at the implication she doesn’t know how to do her job. The letter plot is born out of mischief, not a desire to destroy someone. Here, Godwin depicts it as pure gay panic.
“This sounds kind of bad,” you might be saying right about now. “In the year of our lord twentygayteen, why would I want to watch a woman get punished for being a lesbian? Haven’t we seen that a million times before?”
You haven’t seen this.
_“I know a hawk from a handsaw.”_
Certainly, nobody has seen the famous yellow stockings scene done in such a way. Malvolio’s prancing before Olivia in absurd dress is one of the play’s greatest pleasures, and (depending on how the party scene is played) can seem a fitting recompense for his unjust treatment of Maria. For the uptight Malvolio, putting on bright yellow stockings is a departure enough from his norm, and relatively harmless in that it does not sexualize or expose him.
For a woman, that’s not quite true. Yellow would indeed be a fashion departure for Malvolia, but there’s something less startling about a woman in yellow tights. Women wear tights. Sometimes we wear yellow ones. It’d be funny, but not a shock to the system--not a reason for the audience to reconsider everything we know about Malvolia, and for Olivia to think she’s gone mad.
So the Godwin production dials it up to eleven and breaks off the knob. Tamsin Greig gives an amazing performance that I can’t possibly do justice to, except to say: dem arms. What? I can be shallow.
Her Malvolia appears at the top of the stairs in a Pierrot jacket and strips it off to reveal an extraordinary burlesque outfit beneath. It must be seen to be believed, so here you go:
Wow.
I’d like to point out here that Malvolia the prig apparently had this costume ready to go. She knows how to dance and run around in high heels. She wears expertly applied makeup. She’s a femme who’s literally kept it in the closet, and who apparently practices these arts in secret. How else would she know how to do all this? This scene isn’t just a jaw-dropping exhibition of the worst fashion has to offer, but a revealing insight into exactly how repressed Malvolia is, and how desperately she’s been longing to kick over the traces. In interviews, Tamsin Greig describes her as “controlled and afraid”: when she believes that Olivia loves her, Malvolia’s fear disappears, and she embraces what she’s denied herself for so long. She becomes, for all intents and purposes, a new woman.
And because it happens for no apparent reason, and in the blink of an eye, Olivia thinks she’s lost her mind. No wonder, since her thoughts tend that way already: before Malvolia even appears on the scene, after Maria says Malvolia’s acting unusually, Olivia says, “I am as mad as she.” Like Malvolia, Olivia has turned herself inside-out. Like Malvolia, she will put aside the sober black garments that have defined her, put aside her dignity, put aside her self-imposed isolation--all for love of another woman. Maybe their social classes can never meet, but Godwin’s production makes Malvolia and Olivia two of a kind.
However, Olivia’s not in a position to know that yet, much less acknowledge it. Therefore, the “mad” Malvolia is turned over to Sir Toby’s tender mercies, and she ends up in a cell. | cdf6f8cace6c454da5d08b2522358f25 | ['b500541d552e40e2a6beeef86d422652'] | Andy gasped and looked up, just in time to be shoved back down in the dirt by Assistant, who most definitely hadn't been standing there only five seconds ago, or anywhere in sight. The impact drove the breath out of Andy's lungs, and she had no chance to get it back because Assistant covered Andy's body with her own, grabbed Andy's face in her hands, and kissed her so greedily that Andy wondered if she'd ever breathe again. Without preamble, without a word, Assistant reached down and cupped Andy between her legs, through her dress, squeezing and rubbing, and Andy came with a wheezing cry. Adrenaline, plus the lack of oxygen, made it feel like she came all the way from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes in one exquisite spasm of sensation, and when she was done, the room was spinning in and out of focus while she struggled for air.
"I win," Assistant said.
Andy gulped, wheezed again, and managed, "Me too."
Assistant laughed. Andy blinked. It was a real laugh, and Andy had never heard Assistant make that sound before. If she weren't so dizzy, maybe she'd know what to make of it. As it was, she laughed breathlessly too, until Assistant kissed her again, still laughing and making no move to get up from the ground.
_"We do not need love."_
Assistant had said that. But maybe she hadn't meant it. Not completely. Maybe she loved Andy just a little bit, and felt like she couldn't say it. It was possible, right? Anything was possible, wasn't it?
Andy wrapped her arms around Assistant while Assistant nuzzled at her neck, and decided that a little would be good enough, if she could get it.
* * *
4. Part Four
It happened two days later.
Assistant had graciously permitted Andy to finish tending their saplings before pressing her against an oak tree--her favorite this time--and kissing her languidly while sliding her fingertips up the inside of Andy's thigh. She had instructed Andy not to wear any underwear while they were in their quarters, and while Andy had objected at first, she soon came to admit that it was much more convenient this way. Especially since Assistant had a habit of ripping anything that got in her way. So today her fingers encountered no obstacles as they teasingly made their way upwards.
Assistant's wrist brushed against the moisture already bubbling between Andy's thighs. She smiled, pleased as always, and kissed Andy's cheek. "Why don't you just go naked all day?" she suggested. "I'd enjoy that very much." She squeezed Andy's thigh, but gently. "Seeing this at every turn."
"Oh, no," Andy said, firmly prepared to refuse if Assistant pressed the issue. "I'd get scratches everywhere."
"True," Assistant acknowledged. She patted Andy's thigh. "I don't want this damaged." She leaned in, bit Andy's earlobe, and whispered. "It pleases me exactly as it is. Your skin."
"Oh," Andy said, and shivered. Assistant's skin pleased her too, at least, what she'd seen of it. Milky pale and perfect. Should she say so? She arched up as Assistant's hand crept higher. "I…"
The door buzzed. Andy jumped and gasped, and Assistant pulled away in surprise. They rarely had visitors. Andy quickly straightened her dress, wishing hard for her underwear, while Assistant smirked and headed to answer the door.
An official stood there, dressed in deep blue. The color of mourning. And he regarded Andy with solemn, sad eyes.
Andy, who'd just arrived in the kitchen, knew immediately what had happened. Judging by her stiff posture and closed expression, Assistant had figured it out, too.
"Your Ladyship," the official said quietly, "it is my sad duty to inform you that your father passed away two hours ago this morning. In his sleep."
"Oh," Andy said. She couldn't think what ought to come next. She just looked at the man, completely bewildered, while he expectantly awaited her response.
"What happened?" Assistant asked, taking up the slack.
The official looked slightly affronted at being addressed by a slave, but he looked again at Andy and apparently decided to overlook it. "His heart," he said. "He has not been well for a long time, Your Ladyship. You know, the fever, all those years ago…and he works--worked--so hard. It seems the strain finally got to him. Though nobody could have seen it coming," he added quickly.
"No," Andy said faintly. "No. He saw it coming." Because all of a sudden, she saw her father's pale face in her mind, telling her that he would not free Assistant, that he wanted Andy to have a companion, _"Because I'm…"_
He'd known. He'd _known_. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he allowed her to help care for him, or at least to say goodbye?
"Your Ladyship?" the official said.
"Are you sure?" Andy whispered, wringing her hands. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were all wrong. "You said he was asleep. Maybe--maybe--" She began to tremble. "Maybe you just haven't tried hard enough to wake him up."
The official opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "I'm afraid it is certain that he is gone, Lady Andren. I am so very, very sorry." He swallowed hard. "He was a good man. A fine stationmaster."
"Oh," Andy said, gulped, and trembled harder.
Assistant noticed. She said quickly, "Are there death rites? Funeral arrangements?"
This time, the official turned to her with relief. "Yes, of course. But the Lady Andren need not trouble herself about that. All will be arranged. He wanted nothing grand, nothing ceremonial that people would have to come from all corners of the Empire to attend. Something simple. He left very specific instructions." He smiled sadly. "He was always a thorough man." |
ef432e78c4984e23bae6f0ab97c3e94b | ['b5639cfba1de48f7b1fc1d3a6dc75c0d'] |
Meeting the Neighbors
The Legion had been slowly adjusting to their new situation. It had happened all so quickly, so suddenly, that it had dragged them entirely off their feet. All four of them had been pulled into _ this _ world, somewhere new. Somewhere scary. It wasn’t the same world they were used to, that was made apparent rather quick. Their indoctrination was as sudden as their introduction; the Entity had told them their roles quickly, what was expected of them.
Frank had taken the role that he’d always been given by the others, speaking for them all and agreeing to this new things terms. It was a simple enough gig anyway, and they got some sick powers to go along with it. They had just become killers in their previous lives anyway; this wouldn’t be that big of a change, would it?
“Joe, where’d the girls go?” Frank asked, leaning on a rafter from the second floor of the ski resort. His companion below glanced up at him, eyes darkened with sooty paint.
“They said they were scavving for a bit, didn’t you hear ‘em?”
“Obviously not.” He wasn’t extremely rattled by their vanishing, more mildly annoyed than anything. He liked to keep an eye on everyone, know where they were at all times.
He knew they weren’t the only ones like him out there, like _ them _ . Other killers. The voice had told him, told all of them. It spoke to them in tandem when it did speak, sometimes as if they were all one person rather than four individuals. Frank didn’t mind, he typically took up the mouthpiece and the others seemed fine with that. Just like they always were.
“They’ll be fine, you know they will.” Joe assured, turning his attention to his blade. Unsheathing it from it’s holster on his chest, he began to spin it idly.
The down times between what the voice called ‘Trials’ could be boring at the best of times. This was no exception. He’d been hoping to find Jules and Susie on the resort grounds for something to do. Then again, Joe was still here at least. With a half smile, he glanced back down at the other.
“Hey, Joey, you wanna-”
He stopped mid sentence, his expression fading from teasing to completely blank. Something was coming, he could feel it, like the way a cat knew when a storm was coming. An unspoken warning.
_ Someone crossing the threshold _ , the voice provided. Joe glanced up at Frank.
“You felt that too, right?” Joe asked. Frank nodded before heading towards the broken balcony of the building.
He pulled his mask down; had to keep up appearances, after all.
Cold eyes rolled over the snowy and fog surrounded enclosure of Ormond Lodge. They’d had survivors trespass before, even caught them off guard when they were expecting just one of them to be here in wait, but the arrival of survivors didn’t come with a sixth sense of warning like _ this _ one. It heralded a sort of danger, an unease, that had set both his and Joe’s hair standing on the backs of their neck. Flicking his knife out he caught sight of their intruder.
He was way too tall to be a survivor, easily several heads over himself. Absolutely another killer. The figure was dressed in dark blue coveralls, face also hidden in a mask. Even from this distance, Frank could make out the large butchers knife in his hand. Below him, he felt Frank watching the intruder, waiting for his leader to make a call.
“Two of us. One of him. Should be easy, right?” Frank asked. The question was rhetorical, the teen launching himself from his perch and letting the adrenaline flow till it burned like a fire.
Joe ran behind him with the same intensity, the rest of the world shrinking away and falling silent as they honed in on their target with an eager bloodlust. The man’s face turned towards them, but the rest of him was still, waiting for them to reach him.
“Big mistake, asshole.” Frank snarled, raising his knife to bring it down into whatever flesh he could reach.
The larger man dodged easily, stepping back to avoid the downward stab. An angry roar came from Frank and he attacked again, and again, slicing and jabbing at him. Like a dance, the man - _ The Shape _ , was the name that slid into their minds - sidestepped again and again, leaning back and avoiding all of his attacks.
Joe joined in the barrage, coming up from behind in an attempt to catch the Shape off guard. It was easier said than done; the Killer not as unaware as survivors were to who and what he was facing. He avoided Joe’s swings, then twisted and caught the hunting knife on his own blade, the force ripping it from Joe’s hands entirely. The masked teen gasped before the Shapes elbow came crashing into his face.
Frank felt the fatigue that followed the frenzy, his muscles tensing in a painful spasm that earned a pained yell, worry pricking the hind of his mind as Joe stumbled back. The Shape tilted his head at Joe, then spun his knife into a dagger like hold and stabbed down.
“Joey!” Frank barked, the spasm calming and feeling coming back to his hands. The younger teen stepped back, the butchers knife catching and tearing a line of fabric from his sweater. A defiant snarl on his face, Frank stabbed at the Shape, fast enough that the other Killer couldn’t full dodge.
No blood was shed, but the knife split his coveralls, and the Shape was on him before he could even figure out if his hit had even done anything. | 6c25a33bd04e436281f37ab78bc5db4f | ['b5639cfba1de48f7b1fc1d3a6dc75c0d'] | A large hand wrapped around his throat, tightly closing off his airways and lifting him into the air. Gasping, Frank stabbed the knife into Michaels arm, feeling the sweet purchase of flesh tearing. The Shape groaned in pain, releasing Frank. He took a gulp of frigid air only to have it knocked out of his lungs again as the ground met his body too quickly.
The second shock came when he realized the blade wasn’t in his hand anymore. He watched as the Shape pulled the knife from his arm, blood splashing to the snow and steaming from the wound. He twisted the hunting knife as he regarded it curiously, before tossing it aside and descending on Frank again.
Joe, recovered from the stun to the face, charged at the Shape’s legs, both arms bracing tightly around them. The Shape growled, Frank taking the opportunity to pull himself to his feet again and glancing at where his knife lay. He bolted towards it as the killer stabbed at Joe’s hands. The darker teen cried out, eventually being forced to let go from the lacerations on his fingers. A foot lashed out and kicked Joe in the face, square in the center of his mask. There was a sharp noise as the mask cracked and blood started to drip down below the chin.
“Fuck,” Frank hissed as he grabbed his knife. The Shape had bent down to grab Joe with the same one handed choke hold, Frank growling and jumping straight on his back.
The Shape made a noise of surprise beneath his mask, but it quickly became a growl of irritation. He threw Joe back down, Frank wrapping one arm around his neck and stabbing the knife down towards his chest. Hands grabbed at the knife wielding arm and the Shape bent forward in a throw. The world had spun before he realized what had happened, finding himself thrown off the other killer and flat on his back, out of breath once again.
He was fast, and stronger than both of them. Through the eyes of his mask, Frank saw the white and expressionless face tilt at him, before seeing the bottom of the man’s heavy boot.
\---
Frank hadn’t even been sure he had died until the world came back to him. It had felt like being stuck in a black chasm, heavy and humid but floating. Surrounded by darkness and pulsing energy, and the voices. Oh, the voices. There were so many, overlapping, indistinct, babbling tongues of languages that no human being could ever comprehend. But they all belonged to one thing, the Entity. The whispers were almost maddening, chiding his death, his weakness, stirring the embers of anger till they smouldered to life again.
Then he’d woken up, on the outer edge of the lodge grounds. It took him a moment to find his bearings, the wind biting his tongue as he took deep gulps of air. He could remember his face caving in, the distinct pain of his mask crushing into sharp pieces that stabbed his flesh. The weight of the boot decimating the bone beneath the mask, the way his blood and brain matter oozed out of the mess in the Shapes wake. Even though he’d been dead at that point, he could still remember how it felt - another gift of the Entity, he supposed.
And he remembered the voices, the way they hissed to him, brought him back, egged him on. He wanted revenge on that bastard.
“Joey?” Frank called, lifting his mask to see his surroundings better. “Jules? Susie?”
No one called back as he headed towards the building of the lodge, Frank idly wondering if all of them had been called to a trial in his absence.
“Frank, that you?” a voice called as he crossed into the sitting room by the ever burning fire. Joe had come in from the opposite side, mask raised and looking relieved as hell to see Frank.
“Yeah. You die?”
“Yeah. Didn’t feel great.”
“No, no it did not. C’mon, where gonna go find our friend and give him a visit. See how he likes being beat on his own turf…” Frank said, hopping the counter and digging through their pile of belongings. For once, Joe seemed to hesitate at Frank’s plans.
“You sure ‘bout this, Frank?” he asked, stepping over to the leader. The glare he got silenced anything else he was going to say.
“Damn right, I’m sure.” Frank stood up straight, edging what height he did have over Joe. “That fucker doesn’t get to come here and fuck us up on home field. We’re only returning the favor.”
“He fucked us up real quick-”
“Yeah, and now we know what to expect.” Frank cut him off, tossing him a walkman loaded with his preferred tape. Joe caught it and nodded.
“Alright man, you lead I follow.”
Frank pulled out a serrated and blood crusted blade, tilting it to catch the fires reflection. He glanced up at Joe.
“Good.”
They didn’t have a damned clue where they were headed, but Frank felt like the Entity was guiding them. The fog had closed around them the second they stepped foot beyond the lodge, coiling like a snake waiting to swallow them whole. It didn’t, rather it left a thin space always open before Frank’s feet. There wasn’t much thought in his mind, just a thirst for revenge, and that was enough for the Entity to oblige him to a realm he didn’t know he was looking for.
When the fog did let up, it opened into… A street. It looked like some generic American suburbia, neat houses lined down the lane with pretty pastel paneling that was dinged by age and by the Entity’s hands. A police car was down the ways, stuck in a barricade with its lights flashing. He wondered if it still worked, if the damn thing could be driven. He missed driving. He missed crashing. |
852c66ed7e5b49b7b996e5f86259909a | ['b5890a728d3c4529aabbd380081300d1'] | But he was doing it, and he was someone that once he puts his mind to it, he was going through with the plan. And so he did. Ten o'clock passes.he examined the room. It wasn't black, but a dark blue that cascaded the whole room, turning into a monochrome painting. Eleven o'clock passes. And he just laid there, head propped by so many pillows he was practically sitting up. Four Coffees later and another red bull, the clock struck twelve and Daichi tensed. He didn't like this, this feeling. The chills that went up his spine. He shut his eyes, the flower tattoo on his back pulsing with his quickly beating heart. Cool air rushed into the dark room as Daichi felt it on his face, the cool air making his hair raise. This is it..this is it!
He kept his eyes shut,but not squeezed so he would look more convincingly asleep. But he was wide awake, more that he had ever been as he heard them. The camera under his sheets were completely forgotten. Light footsteps, the smell of sweet roses in dew, as something, something, swept into the room. This is real...his heart pounded in his chest and his back burned. This is real I'm not going crazy I'm not-!
“Oh~!” Said that velvety voice that Daichi couldn't get out of his mind for the last forty-eight hours. “You left me a present, how sweet of you. And here I was thinking you believed I wasn't real!” Daichi still didn't dare open his eyes as he heard the clink of the bowl being raised, silence, and then an “ah” as..whoever was there finished the cream. There was another clink as the bowl was set down and more pattering of feet. They grew closer and closer to Daichi, whose breath quickened with every footstep he heard. He tried with all his might to calm it down as he felt eyes scawar him.
He almost stopped breathing when he felt a hand caress his cheek, and laughter grow in the others throat.
“Open your eyes, I know you're not asleep!” More laughter followed but Daichi was more in the mood to scream than laugh. He did neither as he opened his eyes. Once they were open, Daichi never wanted to close them ever again.
He was beautiful, more beautiful than any of his dreams, no, memories had showed him. In his dreams it was just fragments of eyes, silver hair, pearly skin, shapely legs. But those were just a few pieces of a beautiful puzzle that made up the intruder. He wore nothing save for short, green leaf looking shorts that were held to his lean frame by a rope of vines. The same rope of vine adorned his neck in a chocker like fashion, accenting the elegance of both his neck and his shoulders. Daichi’s eyes searched his face and loved everything about it, seeping in every color, every feature, every movement, every beauty mark, though he only found one at the bottom corner of one eye.
Daichi hadn't thought he had been admiring for too long, but he was snapped out of his trance as more giggling came from the boy.
“You done? Or do I have to sit still longer?” The other leaned in a little more teasingly. Daichi jumped at the words, and tried to form some of his. He needed to get his shit together. He didn't know this person, if it was a person. He needed answers. Who was he? What was he? Why was he coming into Daichi's room at night and messing with him? Why did he make him smell like flowers? Why did he give him a tattoo on his back? Why-
“I'm Suga, you're Sawamura Daichi, I'm a fairy, you're a human, and I left those beca-” Daichi was not only freaked out then by the answers to his unvocalized questions, but by the owl that swooped down and now perched on his desk. Suga, a fairy, a fairy on Sawamura Daichi's bed, pouted at the owl.
“Aw come on Akaashi! Can't I have a little fun??” He whined, eyes so wide and innocent Daichi could never say no to them. That could be a problem, he noted to himself.
Without warning, intense, topaz light bursts through the room, the owl as its center. Daichi instinctively went to cover his eyes with his arms, waiting for the light to dim and vanish before he unshielded them. When he opened his eyes, where the owl once perched, perched another boy instead, the only similarity between him and Suga being their skin which glistened in all colors of the rainbow. Other than that, they were very much different. This boy, Akaashi, as Daichi guessed, was beautiful in a mysterious way. His heavily slanted, heavily hooded eyes seemed to pierce through everything they laid on, his mouth in an unreadable line. He wore a loose shirt of leather and shorts, similar to Suga’s but brown, held up the same way on his waist.
He slid down from his seat on the desk and stood, eyes steady on Suga.
“Father has found you out,” Akaashi stated. He didn't seem at all interested, even sounded a little un-interested. “He wants you home, and he wants you,” his eyes flicked to Daichi for a mere second, yet that's all he needed to feel more exposed than he ever had in his life. “To bring the boy.” Once he finished, he just stood there, waiting for a response.
Daichi gawked at the owl boy. Why would their father want me? Found out? What? What is going on i did NOT sign up for this I- | 9166162333064742841461c2f23617b0 | ['b5890a728d3c4529aabbd380081300d1'] | “...Can I lean on you?” Daichi was a bit surprised that he actually asked and didn't just do it.
“Of course.” Suga hummed in content before plopping his head down, and immediately fall asleep. _ ...we haven't even moved yet...oh well. _ After that, they did start to move.
The yellows, oranges, and multi colors from shop signs rolled over Sugas soft sleeping face. It made him feel nostalgic of something that never happened before. Maybe he missed the last light that slid off his face, or maybe he was already missing this moment where he could unabashedly take in all that was Sugawara Koushi. And all of it was beautiful. Yes, at first it was his hair. But as the minutes with him grew, it seemed like there was nothing that Daichi didn't find himself thinking about.
Soon he struggled to keep his eyes open, and as he adjusted his head to sleep, he saw his friends. Noya was straddling Asahi, who in turn had his arms wrapped around his waist, using each other as pillows as they slept. Tanaka, with his limitless amount of energy, was still awake as Ennoshita used his thigh as a head rest. _ huh..Ennoshita must have been desperate for sleep... _ What was more surprising was that Tanaka wasn't moving, and that was something. _ I have nice friends...good friends...it's nice. _ He fell asleep peacefully
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Im so sorry for this short, late chapter that is...mostly a filler. yeah. Sorry. But ironically my own band camp started, then school, then....a depressive state that im just crawling out of. But! on the good side; next chapter..shit will. go. D O W N!! and! I have to ask you luvs something; if I made a writing blog on tumblr, would you follow and give me prompts (Please say yes because i obviously need practice and love making cute -or agnsty- lil blurbs and one shots)? All the same; thank you luvs for reading! -Chabi
6. Fruit Punch
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Fruit punch is the cause of all mayhem
“WHEN I SAY THANK YOU, YOU SAY BUS DRIVER! THANK YOU!”
_What the hell…_
“BUS DRIVER!”
_Ow_
“THANK YOU!”
“BUS DRIVER!”
The yelling hurts Daichis sleepy head, and his arm slides off Suga’s shoulder as he begins to grab his things that were cluttered on window. As he reaches over, he ruffles Daichis hair.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” He pulls back and stands up, almost yelling as the bus starts to buzz back to life, “We’re here!”
Daichi only grumbles a little as he stands up, awake enough to remember his bag.
Now fully awake with the buzz of the people around him, Daichi follows Suga toward the band room. He had never been in there before, but really never took the time then to look at it either. Too much commotion for that.
Suddenly, he feels a hand wrapping around his arms and pulling him back through the hallways, and through the door in which they had come in from. The cool air feels nice on his skin, a small amount of dampness falling on it as well. As Suga pulls him to the parking lot, Daichi looks up at the sky, a creamy, dark purple sky. Every once and awhile it would always look like a shade of Purple, and on that night it was a stunning.
“Oof!” Suga stumbles a little and presses a hand onto the car in order to not fall. Daichi, in his thoughts, had bumped into him.
“Sorry!” Daichi said, his hand softly squeezing Sugas shoulder. “You alright? I kinda fazed out..” Suga smiles at him, opening the car door.
“It's okay.” He says as he hops in, throwing his items in the back, then reaching up front to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Hi mom!” He says as he sits back down in the back seat, motioning Daichi to do the same. he does, muttering a little,
“Hi again.”
The car ride is filled with Suga explaining the goods and the bads of each show.
“The show was pretty good, but some people forgot the visuals and we almost had some phasing from the pit.” He shakes his head a little bit, “they're the closest to the drum major they shouldn't have this problem!”
At hearing this, Daichi looks down at his feet in deep concentration. He ran the show through his head over and over, the sound still vivid and fresh.
“I didn't see anything,” Daichi says as he looks up, though his look of concentration does not falter. “the show was flawless!”
Suga stays silent for a few seconds. His eyes squint ever so little.
“Thank you.” he starts slowly, “however, because of your…” he swishes his words in his mouth, trying to find the best ones. “Your lack of experience with marching band and music,” he finally blurts out with a slight grimace, “ your perception of the show is slightly...basic…” his last words were small as he watches for Daichis reaction.
Daichi just shrugs.
“Makes sense. The show was really good though” and it did make sense. He didn't know shit about music, let alone marching band, so he couldn't be offended by what Suga said.
The car ride became silent. It would have been a pleasant silence had it not been for Daichi’s unknowing constipated look. He was thinking too hard. Thinking if he should say something. Or maybe just stay silent, but what if Suga found it rude? And if they couldn't have a conversation now, how would the rest of the night go? _This was a horrible idea, He’ll never talk to me again and gossip to his friends how not-fun I am._ He caught himself on that thought. He's much too kind for that. Daichi was so tangled in his thoughts he didn't even notice Suga. |
5bbe96b942264715a89dbad0a7b80b65 | ['b59c162651b248de98894b6394107297'] | It was a lovely garden wedding; Luna insisted that they should do it at the Burrow. Ron, having earned handsomely enough from being one of the top aurors in the country, insisted she could choose somewhere grander and fancier. Luna, with sparkling eyes and a dreamy laugh, told him that it would be the loveliest if their wedding was closer to home. And Hermione knew, right there and then, that they were perfect for each other. She was undeniably happy for the both of them.
After getting over her break up with Ron, Hermione had tried desperately to stay and continue being his best friend. Harry and Ginny had told her countless times that it was okay if she kept a distance for a while. _Cormac_ cursed her for being a bleeding martyr. But all their words fell into deaf ears, and Hermione was happy she never listened to them anyway.
She was really, truly, undoubtedly happy for Ron. Her heart may have twinged a little at the thought of not marrying him, but Hermione believed this was for the best. She wouldn't have made him happy like the way Luna did and she was happy Ron didn't realize this too late. Else, she'd be stuck in a miserable marriage. Hermione knew she didn't deserve that either.
"You're crying harder than Molly," Cormac murmured, his breath washing over her cheeks.
Hermione blushed, not quite sure if it was because of his words or his breath, and threw him a withering glare. "Shut it," she whispered back. "I'm just so happy today."
Cormac gave her a dubious frown, obviously worried that she might still have lingering feelings about Ron. Touched by his worry, she patted his arm and smiled through her tears. "Don't worry. I won't object and make a fool out of myself," she teased.
He lifted an eyebrow, relaxing a little with her joke, and focused his attention on the presider in front.
Hermione had let her thoughts wander a little, mainly about the man sitting beside her. Ginny once asked her if there was something going on between Cormac and her. Normally, she would have protested without hesitation. They'd been friends, _great_ friends – Harry even once pointed out that he felt like Cormac was becoming more of a best friend to her than him and Ron. But over the years, her feelings for him had… _changed_. She didn't know when it began, how it happened, and what had caused this. She didn't know if what she felt had always been there at all, burrowed deep inside her heart and waiting to be realized.
It was just an extraordinarily ordinary work day as Cormac strode into the office, greeted her with his usual smirk, and took a sip from his morning coffee (black with one teaspoon of sugar), when Hermione realized that maybe, _maybe_ she liked him after all.
_Desperately_ liked him.
That revelation was earth-shattering enough for her to completely throw her off the ground. Cormac and her other colleagues had asked her if something was wrong, if she was all right. Hermione didn't protest when Davies had to haul her into the fireplace and floo her back home.
It didn't really surprise her when Cormac came by, a pizza box at hand, incessantly pestering her if something was wrong.
Because Cormac was always there, always taking care of her, always making sure she was all right. As she numbly ate her pizza amidst Cormac's chattering about the latest Quidditch stats she didn't care one whit about, her heart finally whispered something she had been denying for years.
It had been McLaggen. _Always_ McLaggen. Now, Hermione felt like a bloody idiot for thinking otherwise. She felt like an idiot for thinking it was Ron she was destined to be with because it was what felt right. She felt like an idiot for even _thinking_ Cormac wasn't a choice, that he was just a friend, that they had never even fit together. He was a downright conceited git who was always so full of himself. But over the years, he was also a sweet, thoughtful man who would always listen to her and hug her tight until her tears had abated.
Hermione bloody felt like she was relieving some trashy chick flick movies she guiltily loved to watch. Only this time, the stupid protagonist was able to snap out from her delusional (sometimes unhealthy, really) feelings she had with the lead and finally able to notice the second leading man – the one that was always beside her, waiting and waiting and waiting.
"Granger, what's got your head in the clouds?"
She snapped out of her thoughts and sheepishly smiled at the man beside her. "Pizza," she automatically replied.
Cormac snorted. "I doubt Molly prepared one for the reception," he said. "I can request her to make one if you insist, though. She's always terribly fond of me."
"Careful, McLaggen," she said with a mock gasp. "We don't want everyone to know that your ego is the size of, I dunno, the _sun_."
He gave her that charming grin she realized she really, _really_ liked. Damn him for wiggling himself into her heart and growing deep roots. Hermione suspected she never really got over using him to make Ron jealous during the Slug Club's Christmas Party. It undoubtedly made her constantly think about him, all right.
The wedding had finally ended and they all moved inside a huge tent for the reception. Ron and Harry were already pissing themselves with the abundant firewhiskey and Hermione suspected they would both get an earful from their respective wives.
"You all right, Hermione?" Ginny Potter asked, snaking an arm around the older witch's waist.
"Never been better," she replied with a smile. Her smile widened upon feeling the small bump behind her back. As she turned around, she beheld the sight of a pregnant Ginny and sighed. "You look lovely, Ginny." | c81b3144bec04c028da8eee6a1befbe7 | ['b59c162651b248de98894b6394107297'] | Glancing at her full length mirror, it was still a surprise how the dress she wore during sixth year fitted her perfectly. Being an auror required her to be physically fit and healthy. She couldn't help but lament how her bosom hadn't grown a bit, though.
Realizing what she was thinking, Hermione rolled her eyes and entirely blamed Cormac for making her feel self-conscious about herself.
Her fireplace roared and she immediately went down to her living room. She was expecting Cormac to be impeccable as always – there was never a time he was _not_ impeccable, even during missions – but it surprised her immensely when Cormac arrived, wearing his pajamas.
He did a double take upon seeing her, his eyes slowly drinking in her appearance from head to toe. "Blimey," he gasped, closing the gap between them in three, magnificent steps. He grinned widely and covered her lips in a delicious kiss. By the time he pulled away, Hermione was already breathless. "I feel like I've used a Time-Turner. I'm kind of expecting you'd pull away and hide in one of your curtains."
Hermione chuckled. "I didn't alter anything," she said, gesturing at her dress. "It was eerie how it still perfectly fit me."
"That day was probably one of my worst days ever, but _Godric_ , I could not stop thinking about how you looked at that time."
Her eyes turned guilty, but Cormac had cut her with a laugh. "That was ages ago, Hermione," he said, reaching forward to tuck a curl behind. "Besides, I don't mind being used by you anymore. It's all worth it when your face gets all - "
"Cormac!" she exclaimed, her face bright red and warm.
His smile turned into a roguish smirk. "Pity, we have some change of plans," he said, pulling out his wand from his pocket and transfiguring her dress into a pair of pajamas. "Keep the dress for future purposes, though. I plan on making more _pleasant_ memories with it."
"What changes?" she asked, ignoring his last comment.
A small scowl flitted on his face. "The restaurant I booked had a massive fire yesterday," he said. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "It doesn't matter now. I had a feeling you'd be very uncomfortable in that fancy restaurant anyway. So, I had to improvise."
Before she could inquire him further about his plans, Cormac pushed her into her fireplace and exclaimed his flat's address.
Hermione stumbled out in surprise and was about to snap at Cormac for catching her off guard. But her eyes widened a little upon seeing half a dozen boxes of pizza, bottles of butterbeer, and a pile of DVDs on his table. A stupid grin bloomed on her face when she felt him snake his arms around her waist from behind.
"I knew you'd be beside yourself with happiness," he said as he placed his chin on her shoulder, sounding very proud of himself. He kissed the side of her temple and added, "Happy birthday, Hermione."
He merely planned on celebrating her birthday by having a movie marathon, but _Merlin_ _,_ it was perfect for a girl like Hermione. Besides, there were boxes of _pizza_ – what more could she ask for?
"I hate to burst your bubble, though, but I get to choose the first movie."
Hermione scowled as she sauntered towards his couch and plopped down. "That isn't fair," she pointed out. "It's my _birthday_."
"Hermione, you know that I desperately love you," he said, smile widening at how her cheeks inflamed, "but I think you're forgetting one of the cardinal rules in this relationship: 'My flat, my rules'."
Her scowl darkened when he pulled out _'Ghostbusters'_ from the pile. Cormac merrily placed the DVD inside the player, looking as if Christmas came early for him. The scowl on her face melted into a fond, disbelieving smile, wondering how the hell did she even like this man.
He had told her, countless times before how he had loved her so much. It still made her stupefied when Cormac confessed that he had this stupid crush on her ever since he was in fourth year. His feelings for her had festered and festered until it was terrifying and wonderful at the same time.
She couldn't believe that someone like him could love her so much. And she - stupid, _stupid_ her - had not even told him she loved him yet. True, she always told him she really liked him but love? Hermione had promised herself she would be careful with her words – that she would only speak those words to someone who truly deserved to hear it. Hermione had said 'I love you' to Harry and Ron countless times, and she meant every second of it. _Merlin_ , they had been through a lot and stuck together through it all, after all.
Watching Cormac, looking like an idiot as he made a funny, little dance with the movie's theme song, she wondered why she had never said it to him before.
" _If there's something strange in the neighborhood,_ " Cormac started, plopping beside her with that goofy smile on his face. " _Who you gonna call_?"
He nudged Hermione's shoulder, urging her to answer his question. Instead, she turned to him, wide-eyed, and breathlessly implored, "I love you."
His jaw dropped in disbelief. "What did you just say?" he sputtered out, completely ignoring his most favorite movie in the whole world just to look at her fully.
The nervousness in her drifted away at the look on his face. Fondly smiling, she placed a gentle hand against his cheek and murmured, "I love you."
He took a sharp intake of breath and his eyes twinkled. "You really love me?" he asked in a tiny voice that made him sound like a child.
Hermione laughed and gave him a sound kiss on his lips. "I love you," she repeated. "I love you." |
01803b6155174536a46f219c3f8d1e95 | ['b59f25ec965041789ea9bd8626e8b62e'] | He toweled off, deciding against putting pajamas on, knowing full well that he’d just be climbing into a bed that was probably already warmed by Hange. He wrapped it around his waist, holding his old clothes in one hand, and made his way to her room. He opened the door, and was immediately assaulted with a “wait!”
“Should I close my eyes for this one too?” He asked, partially amused, partially tired from the antics of the day.
“Nah. Too much anticipation. Lock the door behind you, won’t you? I want to turn on the lights instead,” Hange explained, although cryptically.
“Okay,” Levi cautiously made his way through the pitch black room, reaching the bed and tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper at the foot of her bed. “Er, I’m ready, for whatever you’re doing.”
The ceiling fan light didn’t turn on like it usually did; instead, the lamp next to Hange’s bed did, giving the room a fuzzy, warm glow. And then he saw her, and today, once again, his dick worked with him.
She was wearing maroon lingere. Barely there lace covered her chest in a bra that fit very well, and the same lace covered her bottom, although it seemed very skimpy. She’d let her hair down, and maybe even put on some eye makeup.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, taking the sight of her in.
“I wanted to do something special for your birthday,” she said shyly. “Except I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m pretty sure you have an idea.”
“Can I touch you?” He asked, standing up to face her. She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her in a kiss, exploring her back and her butt and everything in between. At some point, she dropped the towel around his waist, and fumbled with what was down there, while he swiftly unhooked her bra.
“If you want to stop, at any point, we can,” he told her in a low voice, guiding them to the bed. “Also, protection, important,” he said, fumbling with the drawers next to her bed and taking out one of the little gold foils.
“Same goes to you too, you know,” she said, shrugging out of the bra and inching the underwear down her hips. He laughed, taking those off with the same ease that he had the bra.
The initial act hurt for her more than she’d anticipated, and they had to take several moments to rest. Levi talked to her the entire time, never taking his eyes off her eyes, and making it the best thing he possibly could, despite the obvious.
They lay there for a bit afterwards, basking in the intimacy of the moment. Beads of sweat covered their bodies and the low light of the lamp blurred out any imperfections the two of them had.
“Happy birthday, Levi,” Hange whispered. “I love you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered back. “I love you too.”
Fin.
24. epilogue.
“Petra, could you come zip me up?”
“Only if you feed me an Oreo.”
“You’re probably not supposed to eat Oreos before your wedding.”
“Hush. I can eat Oreos before my wedding if I damn so please.”
The date was October 26th. It was a cool autumn day, right before the leaves fell off the trees in their conversion to winter, and they still painted a backdrop of reds, oranges, browns, and golds. It was in a converted barn that Petra and Mike had decided to have their wedding, and rooms had been made off to the side, for bathrooms and dressing rooms and storage and such. Petra, Hange, Nanaba, Historia, Hitch, and Rico all sat preparing themselves for the day ahead, drinking sips of champagne from thin flutes and laughing like they were in high school again.
Petra zipped up her pale yellow dress, and Hange smoothed the skirt out. She checked to make sure her heels were on properly (yes, they were) and her hair was secured before she delicately grabbed an Oreo and fed it to her best friend, making sure to hold her hand under her chin to catch any crumbs before they lodged themselves in her dress.
“Are you ladies all good in here?” Came a familiar voice, and Levi’s head poked itself through the door that protected them from the rest of the world. “Can I come in?”
“Just don’t tell Mike what my dress looks like,” Petra replied, her voice cheerful. “And don’t eat my Oreos.”
“Oh, trust me, I know better than to even glance at the Oreos,” Levi said teasingly. “You look gorgeous, and that’s all I’ll say to Mike.”
“Thank you,” Petra blushed, smiling at Levi. The two had become incredibly close, thanks to the bond between Hange and Petra. In turn, Levi and Hange alike had widened their friendship-family.
“And you,” Levi turned to face Hange, who gave a tiny curtsy. “You look pretty good too.”
“Says the most dashing man in the room,” Hange replied. It was true; his black and white suit was simple, but crisp, and it highlighted his best features. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes sparkled with a happiness that had taken some time to grow. He even looked a bit taller in black, although Hange still had to lean a little to kiss him.
Historia snorted between coats of mascara. “He’s the only man in the room.”
Hange rolled her eyes. “Definitely the most dashing. Subject to opinion when the rest of them are around.”
“I want to stay and socialize with you girls, but we’re on a schedule, and you all know it. Any last minute issues before we get started?” Levi asked, business as usual.
“We’re good, I think,” Nanaba said, looking down at her pale pink shoes. Every bridesmaid had the same dress and shoes, but in different colors that matched the season. They formed a lovely little harmony, almost like candlelight.
“Yup,” Petra confirmed. | 37511e162e684c47b9a876c51bd7bb49 | ['b59f25ec965041789ea9bd8626e8b62e'] | Levi started with the smaller one, opening the ring box and taking it out. Hange stared at it, floored, and confused. What the hell was he doing?
“I thought, because I don’t know what’s going to happen to the house, that I ought to save this. You’ll be happy to know it’s going to a good cause. It doesn’t suit you, either,” Levi explained. “Although, it’s not going to you, Hange. I’m not quite sure what it’s going towards, but it’ll be good.”
“Don’t let Kenny see that,” Kuchel groaned. “I told him I lost it on the cruise we took after the wedding. It’s all real though, the metal and the diamonds. I’m kind of glad to get rid of that.”
“We’re not seeing Kenny today,” Levi explained. “He made it pretty clear that he didn’t care about me, and I’m fine living without seeing him again.”
“Did you ever love him?” Hange asked quietly, staring down at her unadorned hands.
“At first. I loved him a couple months after the wedding too. He was rich and I was not. Hasn’t Levi told you?” Kuchel replied, fidgeting with the cuffs on her hands.
Levi’s eyes hardened. “Mom was a prostitute before she met Kenny. I think they met at a party that she was escorting at, or something. He gave her enough money to cover the cost of abandoning her job and gave her a night off. It feels stupid, but it makes sense, why I’m not Kenny’s kid.”
“I think you’re the kid of the guy I was escorting that night, to be honest. He was a regular, but he would have made an even worse father than Kenny. Kenny made it so that guy could never talk to me again, but because you’re probably from the business, you pretty much stand for everything he hates,” she supplemented. “There is no father on the birth certificate, though.”
“Makes sense,” Hange shrugged.
“Birth certificate,” Levi muttered. He set the ring box aside, putting a key into the wooden box and opening it. He set the contents on the table in front of them: an ultrasound, a pink ticket, a receipt, a plastic pregnancy test, and several dozen photos of a much younger Kuchel and Levi. Hange drew in a sharp breath.
“Mom, I’m here for two reasons today. Neither of them are because I love you, because really, I don’t,” Levi started. “I’m here to inform you about the future of that ring, and I’m here to ask you a question I want you to answer honestly, okay?”
“Alright,” his mother said, staring down at the photos. She clumsily picked one up, her handcuffs rattling as she moved.
“Mom, do you still love me?” He asked, staring at her.
She paused for a long moment before setting the photo down and pushing it away from herself. “I did.”
Hange let out the breath she was holding, and silently began putting the contents of the box back into it.
“I did, so much, at first. You were so cute,” Kuchel’s eyes glistened, although she didn’t meet her son’s. “And so tiny. I wanted to love you, so badly. But Kenny hated you so much, and it made it so hard for us. You started school, and I realized how much I missed not fighting with him. I guess I just fell out of love.”
“That’s what I needed to hear,” Levi said, locking the box and standing up. “Thanks for your time, Kuchel. I appreciate it.”
“I don’t even know who you are anymore, Levi. How can I love you if I don’t know who you are?” Kuchel asked to their backs. “I’m proud of you, and I always will be, but I can’t love you.”
“Merry Christmas,” Levi said, giving the room one last glance before he shut the door. The officer outside who guarded the room gave them a sympathetic glance, and before they knew it, they were back in the car, the boxes in Hange’s lap in the driver’s seat and Levi sitting blankly in the passenger.
Levi reached in his pockets, silently taking out the cigarette box and lighter. His thumb was just on the wheel of the lighter when he felt the unlit cigarette leave his lips. He’d never dropped a cigarette like that.
No, instead, Hange was holding it, and holding another hand out patiently for the lighter. He gave it to her reluctantly, and she chucked it in the center console of the car. She then set the boxes on the floor of the car, opened the car door, put the cigarette on the ground, and ground it to smithereens under the heel of her boot. She dusted it off with her hand, got back in the car, and then looked at Levi, her eyes calm and steady.
“You are done killing yourself over them,” She states firmly. “I can’t even list the chemicals in a cigarette, and I’m a damn chemist. We are going home, I’m making you some chicken noodle soup, and you’re going to be with people who love you no matter what. Okay?”
“Okay,” he says numbly. “It hurts so much, Hange.”
She bites her lip, leaning over the center console and kissing him. “It will hurt for awhile. It may never stop hurting. But you have a safe place to hurt. You will be okay. _We_ will be okay.”
“Okay,” he whispers, feeling tears fall down his cheeks. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Put on your seat belt. We’ll be home sooner than you know,” Hange says reassuringly. And, as if he wasn’t lucky enough for the gift that Hange was to him, he believes her. His eyes close as Hange shifts from park to reverse to drive, and he’s lulled away by the gentle stop and start of the car as she navigates through the snowy roads.
23. birthday and christmas
**Notes for the Chapter:** |
46c0013640e94f14aca9af44b03540f8 | ['b5abfb7071d2426ba98a8d0fa066d55e'] | _Mina eyed her with a look but didn't press her. "You look nice."_
_"Thank you. So do you."_
_Straightening up, Mina rounded her and placed a light kiss on her cheek before turning away to tidy the room. "My parents, they um, wanted to come to the funeral, I wasn't sure if you wanted that though so I haven't said anything."_
_"Why wouldn't I? I'm mean, it is kinda surprising, I could have sworn your parents hated me. But of course they're welcome."_
_If there was one thing that Chaeyoung understood, it was that her and Mina couldn't have been more different._
_Mina's family was nothing short of an enigma to her (and really everyone in the town)._
_They were the kind of people who lived in that mansion over the hill, the kind of family that everyone speculated about:_
_I heard that they're royalty from overseas._
_I bet they're some high ranking government employees._
_They've gotta be the mafia._
_(In reality it was a lot more boring than that, Mina had told it to her one night, some long explanation about mutual funds and investments that went over her head)._
_Regardless, Chaeyoung just knew that Mina's parents were big important people who had a lot of money and who probably disliked the fact that their daughter was openly involved with a "shady figure" such as herself._
_And honestly, when she looked at the other girl, she couldn't believe that Mina would want to be with her either._
//
The tension in the air was palpable and suffocating.
Or maybe she was projecting.
Either way, Chaeyoung could tell this was not going to be a fun meeting.
"So, what's up Chief? Why the long face?" Jeongyeon asked, trying to break the ice through nervous laughter.
Looking around, Chaeyoung could see Mina staring out the window, Dahyun nodding off in the corner, and Nayeon quietly talking with Sana.
"I'm sure you must all be wondering why I have called you here. Shall we begin?" Jihyo asked before standing up to make her way to the front of the room. "Now, as you may know the district has been pushing us to be on high alert with Summer approaching. Especially since the number of threats we have been receiving has increased. "
"So," Sana begin,"we have selected seven people to be in a special unit specifically for intercepting and containing such situations."
"Seven? But there are only six of us here, who's the last person?" Dahyun questioned, waking up from her stupor.
"Forensic specialist Chou Tzuyu, who, unfortunately could not join us today. I'm sure some of you might be familiar with her, Chaeyoung?"
Begrudgingly, she nodded in confirmation. "Sure, I know Dr. Chou, but what is this unit for? Why not just use the riot units for something like this?"
"As we've said the district had been receiving threats of large scale attacks on the city. We want to create a team with qualified specialists who understand how to most effectively handle them." Jihyo replied.
At this Jeongyeon let out a loud laugh as she glanced around the room.
In any other situation, Chaeyoung would have agreed with her friends sentiment; they were a somewhat odd group.
But there was no denying it, the group was a smart bunch.
Nayeon was a master coordinator and the highest ranked out them, so it was clear to her that she was there for leadership and protocol management.
Dahyun, the somewhat unconventional detective, was street smart and definitely knew how to work a case.
Momo? Probably a tactical move seeing as she was still undercover in a local gang case the precinct was trying to bust for the past couple months.
Jeongyeon was definitely the fighter of the group. Being a combat instructor at the academy she was one of the more capable officers.
Mina, she supposed made sense. Being a crises negotiator she imagined that Jihyo was withholding exactly what kind of threats they had been receiving.
And as for Tzuyu, she was a computer genius. With a specialty in hacking and system management she was another obvious choice.
The only one she really didn't understand was herself.
She had no real specialty.
Sure, she could draw and sketch a suspect when given adequate details, and sure she could get around the lab well enough, but still. She was just another officer with no specialized area.
It made her even more suspicious that she was before, which, really wasn't saying much.
//
_The priest in the front of the church was droning on about something like forgiveness and practicing self restraint in desperate times such as these._
_She was only half listening though as she stared blankly ahead, feeling slightly bad that she didn't have the attention span for his spiel._
_But then again, she was never one to put a lot of stock in religion._
_Glancing around the space, she was only vaguely aware of the number of people in the hall, most of which she couldn't tell you who was who._
_The most peculiar arrival though was that of Mina's parents._
_Arriving fashionably late, the duo pulled up in a flurry of black cars and tight suits._
_"Ms. Son, we are very sorry for your loss." Mr. Myoui said, stiffly shaking her hand as the family payed their respects at the calling hours._
_"Thank you sir."_
_"Mina, why don't you give Ms. Son here some space and come visit with your dear parents," her mother gestured to some seats near the back, eyeing her with a look she knew was meant to hurt._
_Mina gave her a question look, to which Chaeyoung simply nodded and forced a smiled._
_"Go on, I know you have been able to spend a lot of time with them recently."_
_"Alright, just, if you need me you know where to find me." Mina said, slowly untangling their hands and moving toward her parents._
_"Yeah, I know where."_ | 311f6b53f3c049ef8d5ec97e5fd9321b | ['b5abfb7071d2426ba98a8d0fa066d55e'] | "Thanks, I have the screwdriver by the window and the paint trays there too if you want to start pouring it."
"I'm actually surprised she picked this color, I thought it might be a bit dark for her." Mina commented as they went to gather the rest of the supplies.
"Yeah me too, but the rest of her furniture is pretty light so it'll add some contrast at least."
"True."
They work in silence from then on, each taking a tray and roller and starting with the primer coat.
The silence doesn't last long though, as Seoyeon bounds up the steps a moment later with a paint brush and portable radio in hand. "Can I help?"
"Of course," She smiled, pouring a small container of green paint for the girl.
(Some acoustic song is playing in the background and they finish all four walls quickly with the three of them working together.
And it's when they're standing waiting for the first coat to dry- that's when the idea hits Chaeyoung.
Whether or not it was a _smart_ idea she'd never say. Was it amusing and ultimately something they'd never forget, most definitely.
Plus, it wasn't in Chaeyoung's nature to pass up such a perfect opportunity to make the two laugh.)
-
They each had taken to repainting their own respective wall, and glancing around, both Seoyeon and Mina were rather absorbed with their task.
Dipping the roller into her tray, she carefully turned and inched closer to Mina, stopping to see if they had noticed or not.
Seizing the opportunity, she quickly but gently placed the roller on the others back, painting it with a dark streak of green before turning quickly to feign indifference.
Mina freezes, and Chaeyoung holds her breath waiting for their reaction.
"You did not just do what I think you did." They finally breath out in an eerily calm voice.
"Do what? I don't know what you're talking about." She bites her lip, back still facing the other.
She gasps though as she feels a cool sensation on the cheek and sees out of the corner of her eye Mina's own roller, thick with paint.
"Mm," Mina hums, a dangerous smirk playing upon their lips, "I don't think green is your color dear."
Chaeyoung closes her eyes and laughs before turning once more to paint a stripe of green along Mina's arm. "I don't think it's yours either."
"Chaeyoung." Mina starts warningly.
"Mina." She fires back, eyeing the glint of challenge in the others eyes.
Before she knows it, a streak of green appears on the front of her shirt, and once she dips her hand into the can of paint it's all over.
-
It's a war zone really, and not wanting to be left out, Seoyeon charges head first into battle, brandishing their brush as a weapon to fling paint across the room.
//
After it ends they're all breathless from laughter and she feels sticky in all kinds of places where the paint had seeped deep into her clothes.
And it's that uncomfortable dampness that makes them part ways to wash up.
"I still can't believe you did that," Mina shakes their head as they slowly make their way into the bathroom.
"You had fun, don't lie." Chaeyoung prods, following them.
"I never said I didn't have fun." Mina laughs, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on their lips.
"Good." She smiles and begins peeling her paint soaked garments off.
"You aren't going to try that in every room though, are you?"
"No, I think one paint battle is enough."
"Just checking. Here," Mina takes her hand once they both finish undressing, "you're helping me get this paint out of my hair."
"Yes ma'am." Chaeyoung gives a mock salute and follows after them into the shower.
//
Suffice to say, the room doesn't get finished that day and they have to go get a fresh can of paint and restart their base coat to avoid an uneven appearance.
Chaeyoung doesn't really mind though.
Even as she continues to find paint in her hair the entire week following, she simply smiles and knows that making those small memories with her family would always be worth it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello! It feels like it has been a while. Writers block is now my preferred mode apparently, so here's a short, gross Michaeng fluff for you guys while I try to write some angst. Apologies for any typos, and as always thanks for reading!
7. Salty Pancakes
“Not too much, just enough to fill the pan remember?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“Also, when the bubbles start to form, we can flip it.”
“Right!"
Watching her daughter push herself forward onto her toes to squeeze a messy amount of batter into the skillet made Mina smile.
The younger had, quite stubbornly, been planning this breakfast for over two weeks and she of course, was eager to help Seoyeon in any way possible.
So far though, she wasn’t sure how things were turning out.
(At least they hadn’t woken Chaeyoung up yet or set the house on fire, she reasoned.)
The telltale sizzling refocused her attention to the task at hand, and with a spatula in hand, Mina carefully began to poke at the edges of the now solid batter.
“Can we flip?”
“Mm.”
-
Though the pancakes were grossly misshapen (and black in some spots), they didn’t look too bad. Seoyeon was very pleased with her work, so that’s all that really mattered.
Settling a small jar of flowers onto the tray along with a bowl of fruit, Mina nodded her head in the direction of the bedroom. “I think it’s time, want to go wake her up?”
“Yeah.” Seoyeon smiled widely, before rushing past her to barrel through the once closed door.
“Chaeyoung!”
//
When she finally maneuvers herself into the room while balancing the overloaded tray, Mina sees Seoyeon, happily bouncing on the bed with a ruffled looking Chaeyoung. |
c71c0f52d6be4e47bd54f1f3bd9f4d09 | ['b5c1efdcdaf74e9b98593d2a864e3070'] | The two of them pulled the man's body backwards, and this time it moved with ease, much to Sweeney's appreciation.
They yanked the man's legs in unison for a good couple of seconds, then paused for a moment's rest before they continued to relocate the man. They would repeat their formula until they reached the exit - it was likely that they'd have to carry the bugger once they reached Fleet Street, or else there would be a convenient blood trail towards Mrs Lovett's bakehouse.
They soon grew bored of focusing on the task, and so, after a few minutes of body dragging, they found they couldn't resist looking at one another. Another pull was initiated to the man's legs, and Sweeney studied his accomplice with curious eyes - black eyes trailing down from her well defined facial features, down to the crystalline skin of her torso... He widened his eyes when she tilted her head back so he could view more of her...
And he'd thought that she'd been _oblivious_ to his gaze.
He had to hand it to her, she was good at hiding things that she knew.
He smirked as they paused for a breather, watching her turn to him slightly, parting her lips as she looked through her eyelashes at him.
He couldn't tear away now, and he dropped the man's leg, launching forwards to place his mouth over hers once again. His hands cupped around her chin as she leaned forwards into him.
If the two of them hadn't been so lost in each other, they would have noticed the faint tinkling of something hitting the slate tiles from one of the rooves above them...
He let out a deep groan as she forced him to quicken his mouth's pace. The dead man's other leg slipped from her fingers as he lifted her up slightly, but only so her legs could tightly wrap around him as he pressed her into the wall. The lust had been cooked up between them again, it seemed that even during the most macabre of situations, their connection overrided everything...
The _things_ they wanted to do to each other...
One of Sweeney's hands slammed the wall next to her head, but only so he could hold them up to resume their activity. His other hand's fingers grabbed handfuls of her dark red hair, her hands responding by clutching into the sides of his ribs.
They also failed to notice the silhouette that appeared to peer down to the alley below, spotting the two lovers in the act...
It was the outline of a small person, but they weren't small enough to be a child. They had tangled shoulder length hair, a stovepipe hat sat atop their head. The colours of their eyes were impossible to make out, although the light appeared to bounce off of them wherever they looked.
As they looked upon the scene, they didn't seem to react. They stayed still, observing the scene playing out before their eyes.
"Mhmm - MMMr T..." Eleanor murmured, parting his lips for a moment for air. "Doncha think we'd better move 'im?"
He smirked, forehead resting against hers.
_"You_ were the one who said we should _wait_ , pet." he breathed, teasing her by pressing a chaste kiss beneath her bottom lip.
"I-I dunno, it musta quietened down now - "
"How can you be certain?"
"Takin' a chance'll never 'urt anyone. I mean, 'e's bloody dead fer 'eaven's sakes!"
He snorted a laugh at this, and so did she.
The hat-wearing figure let out a breathy laugh too and the couple looked up in panic, directly towards the source of the sound...
But it was too late.
The apparition had gone.
The two of them frowned in concern, Eleanor's arms stroking up Sweeney's body to link around his neck as she gazed back to him.
"Per'aps we'd better get on an move that bugger, love?" she whispered calmly, and luckily that managed to snap him away from the rooftop.
For once, he agreed with her.
They needed to move him.
_And fast._
12. Unconventional Bonding
The couple were doing remarkably well. It was a surprise how efficiently they had moved the corpse - ever so _quickly,_ ever so _quietly._ Even though it was fairly busy, no one had so much as batted an eyelid in their direction.
It was obvious the two had done this before. Or at least, that's what their keen observer thought, peering over the roof's ledge, brim of the stove-pipe hat acting as a veranda to cast a shadow over their face. Their pale, slender hands clutched to the crumbling tiles, physically gripped to the scene occurring over the cobbles below. Their knuckles were chapped and red raw. However the cold didn't seem to bother them as they were too amazed by what they were seeing.
The barber and the baker had reached half way across Fleet Street - although it seemed that the body's arm now had a mind of its own as it kept falling down to swing loosely by the man's side... and it was proving difficult for Sweeney not to express his annoyance, but he gritted his teeth and merely folded the arm back into its place. Over. And over. And over.
Mrs Lovett on the other hand, was completely at ease. Unlike Mr Todd, she moved dead bodies on a daily basis and sometimes much heavier ones than the blighter they were transporting now. The fact she had help made it easier though, and not quite as stressful on her bones as it usually was.
_'Not to mention, I 'ave an excuse to only look at_ 'im... _'_ she thought to herself, corner of her mouth curling up into a smirk.
She could have gotten used to this.
It wasn't long until they had finally reached her shop. | bafdd2dd8c5548f09fcf0c516cf9c72b | ['b5c1efdcdaf74e9b98593d2a864e3070'] | He brayed his lips hard against hers, the two of them moaning out in impassioned unison. Once he sensed that she was wriggling beneath him, he pulled away from her mouth, smirking at her gasps for air before he began sucking at her neck.
_"Ohh... Sweeney..."_ she panted out thoughtlessly, her fingers entwining around his black locks to make a fist of support. _"I love you so much."_
It seemed that she couldn't stop herself from saying it.
She was amazed how her words seemed to drive him crazier - his curious kisses and playful sucks to her throat's skin became more aggressive, his teeth grazing over each pulsating blood branch beneath her thin sheet of white skin. He was making her shake with ecstasy from his harshness, the sound of his groans only added to her enjoyment as she began to work her hand around him again.
She could sense that he'd realised he was now free of any chains, for every one of his reactions was brashly unleashed - one moment she was teasing him with her hand, the next he was pulling himself away from her to yank her down into a star shape, her back flat against the mattress.
Everything about his lust was so tastefully impure that her breaths shortened with anticipation. When he grasped his hands around her wrists to hold them over the pillow behind her head, she let out a whimper of amazement.
He poised his face over hers, his hot breath panting out over parted lips. Her eyes scanned over the blood spatter on his features, her teeth grazing her bottom lip to stop a desperate desire-filled sigh from escaping her.
Knowing himself, that he had to relieve his near-insatiable appetite for Eleanor Lovett before he grew even more lustful, he dipped his mouth down, violently caressing her lips. Her entire body reacted in response - something he was rather surprised at, seeing as he'd never felt her react like this before.
He felt her legs wriggling beneath him, her feet stroking against the sides of his calf muscles... then her torso arched upwards, so that her bare chest brushed up against him...
He hadn't expected her to end their kiss so soon, and his eyes opened, and immediately he questioned himself - had he done something wrong?
He frowned at her as she pushed her body upwards, her breasts pressing against him when she brought her mouth to one of his ears.
_"Hell,_ it's about bleedin' time, Sweeney..."
He snarled at her cheekiness and shoved her back down - she let out a playful shriek when her head hit the pillow behind her, and she ended up in fits of giggles, watching his feigned his anger - she could tell that he'd found his frustrated outburst rather funny too, his eyes were shimmering with delightful amusement.
_"Oh!_ This ain't _fair,_ Mr T."
"And why's that, pet?"
"As a good friend'a mine once said, _'cause we both know that you want to fuck me just as hard as I want to fuck you."_ she whispered, mischief twirling effortlessly in her chocolate pools.
_"Friend?_ That's a curious word." he whispered, subtly aligning his body over her, because she was driving him pleasantly wild with her beautifully clever way with words - he was surprised that she'd even remembered what he'd said to her that night.
His nose nuzzled against hers and she felt him lowering his hot bottom half downwards. One of his hands pushed against her thighs to shakily part her legs, his black eyes never once backing down from gazing at her.
"I would have thought _'lover',_ would've been more _appropriate_ , don't you think?" he teased, his lips skimming over hers as his eyelids drooped down - he'd completely succumbed to her.
Finally, he was feeling her for what she truly was to him.
The contact between their mouths and their throbbing flesh was almost in unison, their moans commencing instantaneously. He pumped himself into her at a quick pace, one hand gripped to her waist, the other eagerly exploring her tastefully pale canvas.
Their mouths fought firmly as their bodies' maneuvres became more elaborate and impulsive - teeth pulled at the skin of a bottom lip, delicate fingers clenched around strands of messy black hair, whilst callous fingers tortuously teased. When the sensations took the two of them over completely, they parted mouths, gasping, groaning, grunting...
Already, Eleanor missed his lips on hers and she tugged his hair, leaning forwards. Her actions forced him to oblige her, and he felt himself falling backwards slowly - he growled out once he finally laid out on his back, still buried deep inside her. For once, he paid no attention to the dominance she was asserting over him, he merely watched on in audibly loud satisfaction as she rolled her hips over him.
When she paused her movements to lean down, Sweeney's eyes widened in surprise, their deep breaths meeting as their lips pushed together in a chaste kiss. He hummed against her mouth, allowing his eyes to close in submission. He could feel her lips curving into a devious smile as she chuckled into his mouth - he frowned in confusion, but the expression was long gone as soon as she began to move over him again, with _twice_ the vigour as before.
Their kiss finally ended, and Eleanor's energetic cries of enthusiasm filled his ears without any delay. He too, could no longer hold back his deep grunts of enjoyment as she bucked her hips against him. He was hypnotised by the experience of her - the way she was engulfing him was unlike anything he'd felt before.
He was finally _seeing_ her, _hearing_ her, _smelling_ her, _feeling_ her, for the delectable woman she was... he was physically and mentally _struck_ by her... and the mere _notion_ of him being free to do whatever he wished with her, _to_ her...
It sent him pleasantly _mad._ |
8968fa5f1bd64a7bab66dda64c470359 | ['b613fb49b9694d8b8dc4e756ee03b851'] | The Return of Cobra-La
He laid in soft ice with a warm head.
“Now that that’s settled,” a scratchy voice faded away, “I need to have a little chat with Mindbender about how things are going to run around here from now on.”
The skies above were light, then magenta, then dark. He could see no stars. Instead, in the void of space, an old memory appeared.
He wiped his eyes with the hem of his smock.
“Little Rey, why must you cry?” asked his father. The tall man stooped to look the child in the eyes.
“Surely these must be tears of joy,” said his mother.
“Of course,” said his father. “This is a good day for all of us.”
“No it’s not!” screamed Rey. “I won’t get to see Golob again, or Thona. I don’t want to go to the palace!”
“My child, you have a greater destiny. Your friends are part of this destiny, to be sure. They are healthy children, and will grow to become part of your great military. As it has been foretold, you shall lead us to dominate the world, to bring all under the loving hands of Cobra-La!”
“It’s not fair!”
Rey’s voice echoed through the empty mountains. He looked down, and relaxed his fists. He wasn’t a child anymore, he needed to get back to the fortress. His fortress.
He turned back towards the mountain, and marched up. His head was light. He reached up to feel it, then fell.
Rey slid down the mountain, and looked up to the black skies again.
A field, stripped of trees and life, was given fuel through the red-soaked remains of the battle.
“General, this is too much,” said Rey. “Would they fight this hard against our dominion, if they knew the paradise to come with Cobra-La? There must be a more diplomatic route.”
“It is necessary, Emperor,” said Pythona. “If they refuse to live in a happy Earth, then the only thing we can do is grant them their leave from this world.
“But our warriors, too-“
“Have pledged their lives to you, to Cobra-La. I would do the same.”
“Yes,” said Rey, “And I would have my own life taken a thousand times in a thousand ways if it would spare my people from death. For the sake of Cobra-La.”
“But we need you.”
His stomach hurt. Rey shook his head. These were dreams, they were not his life, he needed to survive the night. He rose to his feet.
The mountains were louder, now that the moon shone through the clouds. He could hear howling in the distance. He walked forward, reaching out in front of him to avoid the fir trees in his path. Before long, his eyes adjusted, and he saw the path the wolves had taken.
He snapped a branch off a nearby tree. It cracked easily in the cold, and Rey took care to ease one end to a point without ruining its strength.
Before long, the howls grew louder. Rey found himself at ease with silent movement, and crept towards the wolves.
Through the trees, he could see darkened snow, and could hear the tearing of flesh. Five wolves had bloodied the ground, finding a rabbit’s den in the night. They were thin and vicious, but most of all lucky. Even Rey was not sure how long he would keep frostbite at bay in these temperatures.
Rey knew that against a desperate opponent, time was your enemy. So he went behind one of the wolves and pierced it through the neck. Then he struck down another. The remaining wolves jumped at Rey, tearing skin and muscle from his arms and legs before he killed them. He thought that it should have been harder, he shouldn’t be feeling so ecstatic, but these injuries were nothing to him.
The rest of the night he spent warm and well-fed. But without a source of fire, he would have to hunt again the next night.
* * *
“Commander, we can’t be out here all night.”
“SILENCE, you fool! His body was here. I shot him in the head. TWICE! He is dead, and I am your leader now.”
Dr. Mindbender huffed, “Even if you had, the helmet I made for him was bulletproof. I made it strong enough that even at point blank, the worst he could have had was a mild concussion. If there’s no body, I’m not going to follow you. Serpentor is the leader of Cobra.”
Cobra Commander reached out and squeezed Dr. Mindbender’s neck, “If he’s your leader, then why isn’t he here, hm? Maybe he’ll save you.”
Dr. Mindbender choked.
”Well?”
Dr. Mindbender grasped at Cobra Commander’s arm, eyes blinking rapidly. The Commander dropped him.
“What’s your answer?”
“Of course you’re the leader, Commander,” Dr. Mindbender wheezed. For now, at least. | 1cb1b79694d74a21ac846c20b005d7a5 | ['b613fb49b9694d8b8dc4e756ee03b851'] | Rogues' Halloween
**Author's Note:**
> For more info on the stable DCU, go here: http://kl-writes.tumblr.com/tagged/stable-dcu/chrono
**OCTOBER 31, 1951**
Even after Grodd was defeated,* the Rogues kept in touch. They were lucky that after the Flash KO’ed them, he kept his focus on Grodd. Mirror Master was able to bring them back to Gambi’s, aided by some reflective ice courtesy Captain Cold, before Flash could make it back to Central City from Gorilla City.
Not long after, they roped in others of a similar mind. Captain Cold introduced Trickster to the rest of the group about a week after they met up. The teenager was friendly enough, but a bit of a flake- he wouldn’t work with the Rogues on any of their big heists against the Flash until 1957, when the Top’s death and subsequent attack on the city required his cooperation.**
However, he certainly engaged the rest of the Rogues in more legal activities. In the afternoon on October 31st, Trickster joined a few of the Rogues in candid conversation in the back of Gambi’s shop.
“It’s the perfect plan,” said Trickster, “I can’t think of any trick better than this! Come on, it’ll be lame if I have to go out on my own.”
“Just for a handful of candy?” Captain Cold didn’t bother looking up from his magazine, “I thought you said you were 16.”
“You don’t have to give me the cold shoulder. This job will be like taking candy from a baby- there’s no risk!”
“Now listen here, James, the only one who says cold puns around here is me. I’d hate to put you on ice.”
“You don’t think anyone will pick up on the costumes?” asked the Pied Piper, joining in the costumes, “These are nice, Gambi-made outfits- you can’t exactly get them for a song.”
“The rubes aren’t going to know that,” said Trickster.
“Actually,” said Captain Boomerang, “There’s been a few times where I’ve crashed a costume party in full kit- nobody said a word, and I made off with plenty of loot from pick-pocketing. It’s not hard to get away when there’s four other Captain Boomerangs hanging around either.”
“That’s ice to know,” said Captain Cold, “But wouldn’t it make more sense to rob a bank, and then buy the candy? Or maybe just rob a candy store?”
Trickster threw up his hands, “Agh! That ruins the whole point.”
Heat Wave walked in to pick up his costume from Gambi, the only one he trusted to dry-clean any soot off of it.
Trickster got a mischievous grin, “Hey, hot stuff!”
Heat Wave groaned. “Now you listen here, Trickster, I’m the only one who uses fire puns around here-”
“It’s a compliment! Chill out.”
Captain Cold glared at Trickster.
“But seriously Heat Wave, I’ve got a heist but I’ll need your help.”
Heat Wave furrowed his brow, “You never ask us for team-ups.”
“Oh, this isn’t a Rogue job. This requires your expertise. You’re 16, right?”
Trickster put his arm around Heat Wave, walking him out of the door as he explained his plan.
“Heat Wave wanted to Trick-or-Treat?” asked Pied Piper.
“I doubt it.” said Captain Cold.
* * *
“Uh, ‘James?’“ asked Mick. He was standing in the doorway of a suburb home.
“What’s up, ‘Mick?’” James was greedily taking handfuls out of the poor lady’s bucket of candy.
“I don’t get how this is a heist.”
“Oh my!” said the lady, “You two are absolutely in character.”
“Thanks!” said James.
A kid in a Robin costume walked up past them.
“Hey kid, no cutting!” James pouted.
“What- I live here!” exclaimed the kid.
“Did you have a good night, Wally?” asked the lady.
“Yeah, I got about four buckets full when I ran- er,” he looked at the two teenagers, “ _walked_ out to Central City. The apartment buildings are the best.”
“Really?” asked James, “I didn’t think city-dwellers would get into this.”
“Oh yeah,” said Wally.
“Honey, I think that’s enough candy,” said the lady. James sheepishly took his hand out of the bucket, “Your appetite is almost as bad as my son’s.”
“Mo-om,” the kid whined. He looked at the duo’s costumes, “Hey, those costumes are pretty good!”
“Thanks,” said Mick, “I suppose you could say our uncle is a tailor.”
James elbowed him, “Thanks for the candy! We should head off to the next house.”
As they walked away, James shoved Mick.
“What was that for?”
“You can’t give up information about secret identities! That’s basic supervillainy 101!”
“We’re in costume!”
James tsked at him, “Honestly, you’re still pretty green. You’re lucky you have an experienced villain like myself to show you the tricks of the trade!”
“I hate this heist.”
* * *
*Flash #157
**Flash #242 |
61eeefa7652d48239a0d359f6a2b4ce2 | ['b61eeef287ec452ca15aca6b51db419a'] | “I know, I overheard you talking to Tony.” You winced at this, embarrassed he had heard your thoughts. Before you could apologise, or say anything else, Bucky cut in again. “It’s okay doll, I didn’t make things easy. But I’m crazy for you and I can’t deny it any longer.”
You smiled at him and swivelled from side to side on your chair in glee.
“Why don’t we do something together today?” You asked.
“Like a date?” Bucky responded, leaning forwards towards you and trapping your body between his arms.
“Yes, exactly like a date.”
He leant down and kissed you softly, tasting of coffee and sin. You arched up into the kiss, running your hands down his back.
“I think that sounds perfect, but first I think you need to – what did Tony say again – _show me the ways sex has progressed_?”
Bucky’s hand shifted to rub you through the tight material of your jeans and you were instantly aroused. You hooked your legs around him to bring him closer to you, trapping his hand between your bodies and pulling his head down for another kiss. His stubble grazed your already sensitive mouth and chin, but you didn’t care. He could rub your skin raw and you would still be panting for more.
“Please abide by Mr Stark’s rule about intimate relations on the countertop or I will be forced to take measures,” FRIDAY’s voice cut through the otherwise silent kitchen, making the pair of you jump in surprise.
You giggled at the grimace on Bucky’s face and grabbed his hand to lead him to your room. Once there you tugged your shirt over your head and wiggled out of your jeans while Bucky did the same. He was already completely erect, the sight making you swallow with desire. You pushed him backwards until he fell onto the bed and you knelt between his bent knees.
Bucky propped himself up on his elbows to watch as you grasped the base of his cock in one hand, the other moving to tuck your hair behind your ears. Slowly you lowered your head to tenderly lick his tip, tasting the salty warmth of precum on your tongue. Your eyes never left his, drinking in the sight of his desire evident in his blown pupils and shallow panting.
Pumping him firmly with your hand, your mouth left his cock to plant wet kisses on his stomach, teasing him, before following the trail of course hair back down past his hips. This time you took him completely in your mouth and Bucky exhaled heavily, his hips bucking slightly at the sensation. His hands fisted the sheets, fingers tensing and releasing in time to your thrusts while your tongue continued to work his sensitive head.
“Fuck I’m going to come,” Bucky groaned and sat up to deftly lift you from the floor to straddle his waist, kissing you hard and with an urgency that left you breathless. You lifted your hips to reposition his cock beneath you before slowly lowering yourself, eyes closing at the sensation of him filling you completely.
“Oh Bucky,” you breathed as you rested forehead to forehead, his hands moving to cup your face.
Slowly you started to grind your hips against his, relishing in the slow build these small movements created inside of you. Your bruises and tenderness from the previous night were forgotten, replaced with a fervent need to feel this perfect man against every inch of your skin. You moved his hands to settle on your waist, enjoying the heavy weight of his metal arm against your hip as you rocked.
Your orgasm continued to build inside of you, your muscles tensing in anticipation and your walls clenching around him. Sensing you were close, Bucky slipped his hand down to circle your clit with his thumb and the pressure was all you needed to find your release, thighs shaking involuntarily as your climax consumed you. No longer able to focus on your rhythm, Bucky held your hips and continued your thrusts until he found release moments later.
You laid together, bathing in a post-orgasm glow, Bucky’s fingers painting gentle circles on your shoulder.
“So about today’s date, what should we do?” you asked.
“How about we raincheck and just stay here all day?” Bucky replied with a smile.
“Sounds like the perfect day to me.”
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave comments :) | 3c610c5535eb4bcc95c134c1c82f0868 | ['b61eeef287ec452ca15aca6b51db419a'] | You patted the empty side of the bed before wrapping your arms around your knees and hugging them tightly to your chest. Bucky sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight, coming to rest with his head against the headboard and one leg tucked under the other. You both enjoyed the comfortable quiet that comes from being in another person’s presence in the deepest part of the night. You listened to his soft breaths and contemplated what little you knew so far about him. James “Buchanan” Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier, had only been with the Avengers a few months longer than you. Steve had filled you in a little bit on what had happened after the Accords, but he had kept things brief and top-line. That there had been a fracturing for a while, but things were on the mend, that Bucky had been released from his HYDRA-imposed brainwashing, that things were still tense with Tony but he hadn’t really explained why.
You had started to drift into a fuggy daze when Bucky spoke softly. “Did you want to talk about it?”
You turned to look at him and studied his face as you thought _Can I trust him?_ The bedside lamp behind him threw shadows that darkened his stubble-lined jaw and turned his bright blue eyes into a stormy grey. There was a gentle honesty in those eyes that weakened your resolve.
“You’ll probably laugh.” You replied.
“I won’t, I promise.”
“I know fucked up shit has happened to you. Fucked up shit has happened to me, too. Probably more than enough to give someone nightmares. The truth is, I’ve always had them – at least as long as I can remember. When I was about 13 or 14 my mum had to rescue me from my wardrobe, where I had gotten stuck trying to run away from something.”You paused and glanced again at Bucky, who shot you a half-grin and nodded his head for you to continue.“But then the bad stuff started to happen. Has Steve told you how I got recruited?”
“No, he tends to let people tell their own stories.”
You leaned back against the headboard and closed your eyes. “My family… I lost my family. Turned out I didn’t know my mother as well as I thought I did and her secret life got her, my father and my brother killed. Her… _employer_ s _…_ say she had tried to run, to get out of the deal she had signed. So they kept me. At first it seemed like only as second-hand punishment, as a way to get to do the things they had wanted to do to her before she went and died too quickly. But after a while they came ‘round and thought I would make a good agent myself. They made me do things I never wanted to do, but I had switched off by that point. I wasn’t me anymore, y’know? Yeah, of course you do.”
At this point you realised Bucky was holding your hand, rubbing a callused thumb over your scarred knuckles. It was one of the most soothing sensations you had ever experienced.
“Eventually, my soul or maybe it was my sanity, started to return and I killed every last one of those assholes. It took me two years of being my own double-agent, picking them off one by one, and they never suspected it was me until their last breath. My handiwork caught Steve’s eye and he started tracking me. One day he got between me and the last dickhead, so we had a bit of a tussle. After knocking the stuffing out of me, Steve reached down and lifted me to my feet and said: “You’ve got heart kid.” And here I am.”
At this Bucky let out a small chuckle. “God he can be so self-righteously annoying.”
“I know right?! Anyway. My theory is that the nightmares were premonitions of what was to come. My subconscious knew what was to come and was already screaming.” To your embarrassment your voice husked at the end of the sentence and a tear made a salty trail down your cheek. Bucky enveloped you into an enormous bear-hug, the first you’d had in God knows how long, and petted your hair as you cried quietly. He smelled of warmth, a comforting mixture of sweat and washing detergent and the softest tang of metal. By focusing on those smells and steadying your breathing you were able to get your tears back under control, but you weren’t ready to give up the reassuring sensation of Bucky’s embrace just yet.
“Sometimes I think mine are punishment. For what I did. For not fighting harder, for being weak, for not dying when I should’ve,” Bucky said quietly. “I’ve never even told Steve that, but I think he suspects it.”
You didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? You knew how pointless _I’m sorry_ or _That’s not true_ were, how hollow they sounded. So you just went with a simple, “You can trust me,” and hugged him tighter and tried to squeeze some of the pain away.
Despite the awkward angle of being positioned half up-right, half in Bucky’s lap, exhaustion started to take over and you felt yourself starting to drift to sleep. Bucky noticed as well and gently disentangled himself from your arms.
“I better let you get some rest. I guarantee you Steve is still awake and becoming increasingly worried you’ve murdered me in your sleep.” You smiled at his joke, a weak attempt to keep things from becoming awkward. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel embarrassed or awkward, but more relaxed than you had felt in years.
“Thanks Bucky,” you said as he opened the door to your room. He turned back to match your grin.
“Anytime, doll.”
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave feedback :) |
48883fab8faf4e1e9520638ff43b80dd | ['b6301c0154594826a2b13229635bd002'] | Lindsey put her hand to the side of his face and gently kissed him, then held him tightly as his healing began.
-oOo-
Steve's recovery was slow, but after ten days he was stable enough to transport up to Cedars Sinai. With the exception of the day of Craig's funeral, Lindsey had stayed with him the entire time at Hoag and rode back to L.A. with him in the ambulance. They were escorted by Sgt. Getraer and Lt. Michelson in front on motorcycles, followed by Ponch and Jon on their motors, then Bear and Sindy in their cruisers.
It was early evening of their first day at Cedars and Steve had been put in a private room. Lindsey was looking over his chart when Dr. Phillips and Dr. Fox walked in, followed by several first year interns. Dr. Phillips explained Steve's situation and condition, pointing out that Lindsey was on staff and was to be included in any decisions made in regards to the officer's care. He then asked Dr. Fox to continue the rounds and spoke to Lindsey.
"I want you to know that I will personally be responsible for your friend's care. I have been following the story in the news and I called my colleague Dr. Jones once I knew where he had been taken."
Lindsey looked startled. "You know Dr. Jones?"
Dr. Phillips smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "I made sure she was the one who worked on him, my dear. She was my protégé many years ago; served her residency here as a matter of fact. I wanted to be sure your friend had the finest doctors this state could provide."
Staring at him in wonder, she felt a rush of gratitude for his kindness. "Dr. Phillips, how can I ever thank you?"
"There is no need, my dear. I have been more than impressed with you and how you've dealt with adversity this past month, and dealt with those in authority who may have needed a swift kick in the ass." She turned crimson and he chuckled. "You were right that day, Ms. Buchanan. I am 'a pompous man with incredible skill at saving lives.' And my bedside manner can leave a lot to be desired mostly due to my, I believe the term you used was, 'freaking ego.' I can't say that things have changed much in that regard, but when someone earns my respect, everyone knows it. And you have my respect. In spades."
She tried to speak but the rush of emotion in her disabled all speech. She had given up trying not to cry days ago and she put a hand to her heart and looked at him with gratitude.
"You are most welcome," he said kindly.
-oOo-
It was another two days before Steve finally regained consciousness. Captain Anderson had come by to visit and was talking to Lindsey when he noticed movement from the bed.
"Did you see that? I think he's trying to open his eyes."
Lindsey smiled sadly. "I wish to God that was true, captain. But unfortunately, it's just an involuntary- oh!"
She had been holding Steve's hand and as she spoke, his fingers slowly started to close around hers. As his grip tightened, his eyes started to slowly flutter open and Lindsey spoke softly to him.
"Mickey?"
Will stood up anxiously. "Should I get a nurse?"
Lindsey nodded. "Yes. Tell them he's coming around and to page Dr. Phillips stat." She rubbed his hand between hers and kept talking to him as the captain left the room. "Come on Steve, open your eyes. Please Mickey..."
Slowly his eyes opened and he blinked at the light, trying to focus on the blurry face in front of him. As he became more aware, he realized something was in his throat and he started to panic.
The heart monitor started to beep faster, and Lindsey knew she had to keep him calm. She dropped the side bed rail and sat beside him, placing her hand on his face while still holding his hand.
"Mickey, its Buck. Listen to me. You're okay. You're safe. Don't fight the respirator, honey. It's helping you breathe. C'mon, Mickey, focus on my voice. That's it. Squeeze my hand… Good. Just listen to me, Steve. You're going to be okay."
She kept up a steady stream of conversation as Capt. Anderson returned with Dr. Phillips and Nurse Karen. The doctor turned to the captain as he grabbed the privacy curtain.
"Captain, if you could please step out while we examine Officer McLeish? Someone will come and get you when we are finished."
"Of course, doctor. I'll be in the waiting room."
The curtain slid closed and Will stood there for a moment before walking back to the waiting room. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Barry, Jon, Ponch and Kathy already there. He smiled and walked over to them.
"Steve just woke up."
Their looks of utter relief and joy were a welcome sight. Kathy was near tears and Bear gave her a hug. Jon let out a huge sigh of relief, shaking his head.
"That's the best news we've had all day. How's he doing, captain? Can we go see him?"
Ponch put a hand on his shoulder. "Slow down, Jon. You're starting to sound like me!"
They laughed and the captain smiled. "This just happened a few minutes ago, so we'll have to wait for a green light before going in."
It was another forty-five minutes before Karen came in to find them.
"Lindsey asked me to come and get you, Capt. Anderson. Oh, you've multiplied!"
All five officers stood when she entered and the captain grinned. "Yes, we tend to do that."
"Well, I was told to come and get you, captain, but I don't think it would hurt if someone else wanted to join you." | d94ffaf1fff1482d9b8e04534ffdff13 | ['b6301c0154594826a2b13229635bd002'] | She only paused a moment before dashing into the ER. Tyler, the nurse on duty called out to her, "Lindsey! He's in room 7. There's an extra pair of scrubs in room 4."
"Thanks Tyler," she cried as she ran through the doors into the ward.
Bruce came in a few minutes later, helped by Steve and Bonnie. He watched as Turner was wheeled back into the ER, followed closely by Ponch. Sgt. Getraer stormed in, helmet in hand. "Where are they?"
"They just took Turner and Ponch back, Sarge. Jon's been here for about fifteen minutes," Bruce replied. "Did we catch the guy?"
It took Joe a moment to register who he was talking to. "Nelson? What are you doing here? How…?"
"We saw it on the news, Sarge. Lindsey and I came down the second we knew what was going on. She's in there now."
More officers filtered in looking concerned. An LAPD officer came over to Joe, "Sergeant? I'm Sgt. Sue Maddux. I'm so sorry we didn't get there sooner…"
"You did your best, sergeant. That's all we could ask for. Did you get him?"
The look on her face said it all and Joe fought the urge to throw his helmet at the wall. Sue ran a hand through her short brown hair and said, "He knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. He knew the accident would cause confusion and that most of us would stop to help the injured. I had two motors and three cruisers after him, but he simply vanished. Not what you wanted to hear I know…"
Captain Anderson and Lt. Michelson rushed in and were briefed by Joe and Sgt. Maddux with the little information they had. Now the inevitable waiting game began once more. Twenty minutes into the wait, Cadet Irene Montez entered the waiting room and approached the Captain. She held out a letter, "I was told to deliver this directly to you, captain. And you need to read it out loud."
Anderson looked at the young officer hard as he took the letter from her. "Excuse me, cadet?"
She stood ramrod straight and replied in a voice that shook slightly, "He said you had to read it out loud, sir."
"Who said, Cadet Montez?" Joe was standing at her side and could now see the fear she was trying so desperately to hide. He touched her shoulder and she jumped, and at that moment he knew the answer. She was fighting for control and Getraer cursed Craig Anderson for doing this to her. All eyes were on them and he spoke gently, "Cadet Montez. Irene, was he at Central? Is that where he gave this to you?"
She glanced at him briefly and nodded, willing herself not to cry. He had terrified her, threatened her, tried to touch her… but she screamed and fought back, actually scaring _him_! She would not dissolve, she was a California Highway Patrol Officer, loyal to her fellow officers who needed her.
Joe looked at Lt. Michelson who nodded and went to call Central. "Are you all right cadet? Did he-"
"He tried sir, but I took care of him." The pride in her voice was unmistakable and Joe knew he had a fine officer on his hands. "Once he knew I was no easy target, he tucked tail and fled."
The sergeant smiled warmly at her, "Thank you Cadet Montez. I'll have the lieutenant inform your sergeant that you will be here waiting for our reply."
"Thank you, sir," she said with obvious relief. She quickly sat beside Sindy and Bonnie, who encouraged her.
Getraer turned to the captain who had just finished reading the letter. His face was ashen.
"Will, what it is? What does it say?"
"Craig has truly lost his mind, Joe. This man is not my son." The pain in his voice matched the look on his face, his hands trembling as he held the letter.
The sergeant took the letter and started to read it, then looked at Will in shock.
His friend nodded sadly, "I can't do it Joe, but they need to hear it…"
Getraer walked to the center of the room and all the officers fell silent. He noticed that a few LAPD officers were trying to leave, most likely thinking this was a CHP matter, but he changed that thought quickly as he started to read:
_To the officers of the CHP and LAPD:_
_I was extremely impressed with the joint effort put forth today in trying to apprehend me. But as you_
can see, I am free and all of you are now crowded together in a waiting room, hoping and praying your
fellow officers survive. You should have known someone was going to get hurt captain. I warned
you but did you listen? No, you decided to let people with targets on them continue to be out on the
streets where I could reach them. Their injuries are on your head, not mine.
_I would not put my officers in harm's way, knowing their lives had been threatened. But then again,_
I'm neither the lieutenant nor my dad. It looked like Baker and Poncherello went down hard, followed
closely by Turner. Thanks for making things so easy on me guys. I'm sure your officers appreciate it.
How many more people are you going to put in danger before you realize I mean what I say?
_And how gallant of the LAPD to provide back up when they knew which officers were involved in the
pursuit. You'd better watch out boys and girls, because I just might come after those of you in Blue next._
_I hope Cadet Mendez did her job well today. I'd hate to have to add her to my list._
_Respectfully yours,_
_Craig Anderson_
-oOo- |
a28dfbf759f74227b8ae8b8529564f50 | ['b64194876da445c7883447ed119062b0'] | It’s Just a Crush
No, he couldn’t be jealous.
Not of Jeremy, of his best friend. He’s happy for him, of course he is. He finally got the girl of his dreams. Michael couldn’t be happier for him.
But, what if he could?
Michael had realized his crush on Jeremy years ago, but always thought of it as something that would fade away, and he was sure that it did over time. It couldn’t be anything more.
But now that Jeremy has a girlfriend, he realized that it’s only grown stronger.
He couldn’t accept it. Jeremy’s his best friend; he would never think of him that way. Michael felt wrong for it, but he couldn’t picture himself being with anyone else. He could see his future so clearly with Jeremy: They’d have a few pets, and a nice house, maybe even a kid. They’d sit on the porch every morning holding hands and drinking coffee while they watched the sunrise. It was so nice to think about, and Michael couldn’t help it. Was that something people normally pictured when they thought about their temporary crushes? Their whole future together?
Michael sure hoped so.
But, if it was just temporary, why did Michael’s blood boil when he saw Christine with Jeremy? Why did his face flush uncontrollably every time they just brushed arms? Why couldn’t he stop himself from thinking about how wonderful it would be to kiss him?
Oh man, what if he really was in deep?
Michael didn’t even realize that Jeremy was waving his hand in his face from across the lunch table until he had done it for the fourth time.
“Michael!”
“Ah!”
He snapped out of his trance to see himself seated at the lunch table in front of his half-eaten plate of sushi and a large slushy. And of course, Jeremy. He felt butterflies in his stomach at just the sight of him.
“Oh, uh, hey, Jer. How long have you been there?”
“Like, 2 minutes, man. Where were you?”
Michael chuckled awkwardly at Jeremy’s question, making something up.
“I was thinking about, uh, the porn I was watching this morning.”
“Woah, um, okay-“
“Yeah it was...hot?”
God, why was that the first thing to pop into his mind?
“Anyway,” Michael cleared his throat, out of conversation ideas.
Wait, he thought, where was Christine? She follows him around all the time. He saw her this morning, too; why didn’t she sit down with Jeremy?
“Where’s Christine?”
Jeremy stopped what he was doing to look up at Michael. His expression was unreadable.
“Oh, um, we broke up.”
Michael’s heart stopped.
“What?” Jeremy had been after her since what, freshman year? And they break up, just like that?
“We just, kind of, eh?” Jeremy picked his fork back up and Michael sat there, dumbfounded.
Then, he started to think a little. There was obviously something Jeremy wasn’t telling him.
Did Christine try something he didn’t like?
Did she cheat on him?
Why wasn’t he giving him a reason? Was he overthinking all of this?
“Are you guys...still friends?” Michael asked.
“Oh, yeah, she’s hanging out with the others today, that’s all.”
He still knew something was up.
“Jeremy...is there something you’re not telling me?”
He didn’t respond.
“Why did you break up with Christine?”
Jeremy looked up from his plate. He met Michael’s gaze and Michael recognized the look in his eyes.
Why was he scared? Was it something he said? Was it something Christine said?
He was so confused.
But even more so when Jeremy mumbled so quietly the words:
“Because I love you.”
And Jeremy regretted saying those words as soon as they left his mouth. He did mean what he said, and he did want to tell Michael, but he wasn’t prepared for his reaction. What if he just ruined everything?
As for Michael, he felt his entire body shut down. His heart raced, his palms became clammy, and the butterflies.
Oh, the butterflies.
He was certain they were flying out of his ears.
Jeremy quickly looked down. “Never mind I didn’t say anything.”
Michael stood up and took Jeremy’s hand in his own, legs shaking and heart about to jump out of his chest.
He led Jeremy to the bathroom.
Jeremy let out a shaky sigh, prepared for yelling and screaming about how much Michael hated him for confessing his feelings to him.
What he wasn’t prepared for was Michael’s lips against his own, one hand tenderly placed upon his cheek, the other still holding his own.
Jeremy’s eyes widened as wide as wide could get.
Michael pulled away, eyes half-lidded and lips still slightly parted.
Jeremy’s face went entirely red as he processed what had just happened.
”Holy shit.”
Michael liked him back.
_Michael liked him back._
Jeremy let out a breathy laugh, tears brimming in his eyes as he took Michael’s face in his hands to kiss him again.
They pulled away again, faces still inches apart.
“Jeremy,” Michael began, “Would you do me the honor of being my Player 2?”
Jeremy threw himself at Michael, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.
” _Yes_.”
**Author's Note:**
> Well that was the thing have a good day
>
> Edit: oh god I didn’t expect this to get the attention it got in so little time wow thank you
>
> Uhhm I don’t really know how to write at all so I’m surprised about all of the positive stuff and things so that’s pretty neat much thanks | b1e5fb58520147838726129c67c8521c | ['b64194876da445c7883447ed119062b0'] | Realization
**Author's Note:**
> Oops I did it again
This was it: Jeremy Heere’s first real kiss. And with who he considered his first love. Christine Canigula sat next to him on the couch, her dark brown eyes shining. A single lamp dimly illuminated the room as the rain gently tapped on the roof above them. Brown eyes met blue-green, and they kissed.
Jeremy’s eyes fluttered closed, and he waited for the moment. The moment that everything would slow down, and the love, the passion, the emotion, it would all bubble out of every pore in his body. He waited and waited, but the moment never came. Maybe it all happened so fast that he missed it?
They broke away, and Jeremy took notice of how the sparkle in Christine’s eyes had faded ever so slightly, just as it had faded in his.
He looked around the room. The stairs were empty, the furniture was lifeless. He glanced at Christine to find her confused, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Suddenly, she stood, reaching out her hand for him to take. He did. She led him to the balcony outside, her hand releasing his and falling to her side. She broke the silence. “Did you feel the same thing I did?”
Jeremy paused. “I...I don’t know...what did you feel?”
”...Nothing.”
From there, they had decided to just be friends. It was what they both wanted, but to Jeremy it felt off. He had spent so much time trying to get the girl, only to find that in the end, neither the girl nor he wanted a romantic relationship with the other. As Jeremy got in his car, he began to think about everything that had happened during his Junior year. He thought about how hard he had tried to get Christine to like him. How everything had gone wrong. How, in the end, he was just barely hanging on, and how he would’ve let go if it weren’t for one person.
Michael Mell.
For some reason, Jeremy felt butterflies in his stomach at just the thought of him.
Michael Mell was always there for him. Michael Mell saw through Jeremy’s desperation and forgave him for everything he had done to him. Jeremy couldn’t understand why he did in the first place, but it was just enough to keep him from tumbling over the edge.
And Michael Mell was exactly who he needed to see.
He sent him a text. It read “Can I call you? It’s important.”
No later did he receive a “Sure. Everything okay?”
Jeremy pressed the call button and sighed in relief as his friend immediately picked up.
”Hey, did something happen?” Michael asked, concerned. “Yeah, everything’s fine, I’m just...” Jeremy paused, trying to think of the right word.
”Confused, I guess.”
”Do you wanna come over? It might be easier to talk about in person, or something.”
“Sure.” It wasn’t like he was in any hurry.
_Knock,_ _knock_.
Michael opened the door to find Jeremy drenched from head to toe, a shy grin on his face. They laughed and Michael quickly pulled him inside, going upstairs to grab him a towel and motioning for him to follow.
They sat on Michael’s bed as Jeremy described exactly what had happened and what he felt. The pure shock on Michael’s face must have been evident as Jeremy stopped to look at him and...apologize. What for, Michael wasn’t sure.
But as Jeremy further explained himself, he came close to tears bringing up the events of Junior year. He told him how sorry he was, how he couldn’t ever make it up to him and how unrealistically selfless it was of Michael to forgive him. And to that Michael couldn’t help but tear up as well. He said to Jeremy - and these words would stay with the both of them for the rest of their lives - “No matter what happens, I will never, _ever_ find a good enough reason not to forgive you.” And with that, they cried the most they had ever cried together. And there, Jeremy felt it. The emotions, the passion, the _love._ It all came bubbling out of every pore in his body, and so intensely he thought he might burst. And it was the most indescribable feeling in the world.
It was then that Jeremy realized he was in love.
**Author's Note:**
> UH oh shit okay I think there might maybe be another chapter if this turns out okay lemme know if it’s good i guess?? |
0e1d740d2f67443ca92a5c89cbb99524 | ['b645aea56213425a9f461ec56d80fab1'] |
Little Fall of Rain
Each raindrop striking the earth alone could not create the cacophony of noise surrounding the two girls at that particular moment. It could only be the most concentrated form of team work found in nature. Water rapidly and continuously falling to the earth and bringing with it the scent of the earth’s dry surface regaining moisture for the first time in a long while. It would always be a beautiful sight to behold. The gutters filling with dirtied water, rushing down into the drains. Cars swooping past, every turn taken with more precaution than the last as the danger of their manufactured world failing against nature’s simplest occurrences weighed heavily on the drivers minds.
Two young girls were standing on the concrete steps and listening to the rain beat down upon the tin roof above them. Drowning out the sounds of their team tidying up inside the warmed gym behind them. They stood with their hands interlocked, watching the dirt slowly morph into mud.
“Oh!” The smaller of the girls exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders to inch off her backpack. She withdrew her hand from the black haired girl and spun to crouch before her bag, “It’s raining. I wasn’t sure if it was going to this week so I brought an umbrella just in case but I bring one everyday anyway because you never really know when it’s going to rain.” She rifled through her belongings with twitching fingers, searching through the entire contents of her bag with increasing urgency.
“Or I thought I brought it with me? Oh no I must’ve left it in the clubroom! Well, Hinata would have but I lent it to him last week and I should’ve asked him for it earlier anyway, I’ll just go get it. Please excuse me, Kiyoko-san.” With a low bow the blonde girl rushed off, back into the gym to enquire after her umbrella.
Kiyoko had hummed in agreement but was already wandering out into the rain, peering up at the sky and allowing a small smile to grace her features. Her glasses were already covered in raindrops and she knew it would prove futile to rid them of it. Shoving them up her slippery nose Kiyoko began to slowly spin in place, her skirt spread out slightly, the material not generating as much spread as she’d like. It wasn’t as satisfying as the films made it out to be and she slowed to a stop.
Already her jumper and shirt were soaked through and there wasn’t a patch of skin free of the rain. Droplets were running down her back and dripping from her chin and nose. Her hair was plastered to her head and she ran a wet hand through it, spiking up her fringe.
“I got the umbrella Kiyoko! Sugawara already had it to give to me.” Yachi rambled as she bounded out of the gym doors for the second time that evening. She hadn’t yet raised her eyes above ground level and was more fixed upon opening the umbrella than her surroundings. When she finally managed to jerk the umbrella upwards and into working order, Yachi looked up expecting to see her bemused girlfriend but was disappointed.
“Kiyoko? Where’d you – Oh! Kiyoko! Get out of the rain! What are you doing?” Yachi cried, rushing out to greet her girlfriend. Umbrella tightly clutched in her fist as she tried to include the smiling girl in the protection. The taller girl ducked out from beneath the umbrella and spun away, laughing lightly as Yachi hurried after her with panicked exclamations about her health.
“Please Kiyoko-san, come under here! You’ll catch a cold!” The smaller girl chased after Kiyoko, often stretching out the umbrella in an attempt to cover her whilst the taller teen danced around her, ducking and dodging the umbrella’s protection with laughter of increasing volume.
The pair continued like this. Kiyoko swerving and twirling about in the mud, her socks dirtying greatly as the mud splashed up around her due to her quick movements. Kicking through the mud as she danced circles around her frazzled girlfriend who adamantly followed Kiyoko with her umbrella. Protecting no one while she attempted to shield Kiyoko from the rain.
“Come on Kiyoko! I don’t want you to get sick! What if you get the flu? That can be deadly! It can be really deadly, and I won’t be allowed to see you if you have the flu. You’ll be locked up in your room all alone and I won’t be able to come see you so I’ll have to sneak in and you know how clumsy I am! I’ll fall over on your roof and then just fall right off and break my neck and then you’ll be sick and sad and I’ll be dead and-”, Yachi fretted, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously. Kiyoko paused in her dancing and maintained her smile sparked by quiet amusement.
“Yachi.” She spoke, interrupting Yachi’s possibly endless series of improbable future events.
Kiyoko slipped one hand behind Yachi’s back and gathered the shorter blonde into her warm embrace. Shielding her from the rain with more success than the umbrella could ever dream of and more love than a roof could ever deliver. Yachi peered through her upper eyelashes at Kiyoko, pulling back slightly and once again letting the rain run through her hair as she soaked in
Kiyoko’s light, peaceful expression. Perking up, onto the tips of her toes, Yachi snaked an icy hand behind Kiyoko’s neck and brought her down to meet her lips. | afb77fbe6114411785697c1a25be4046 | ['b645aea56213425a9f461ec56d80fab1'] |
Three times a week
“Who did you say your roommate was again Nagisa-kun?”
“Oh I can’t remember his name! It wasn’t girly is all I know. How can I possibly be friends with someone who doesn't have a girly name?”
“I’m sure you’ll manage Nagisa-kun. Besides, we’ll be seeing each other so often it will feel like we’re roommates anyway.”
“Of course, Rei-chan!”
-
“At least three times a week Rei-chan! Promise?” Nagisa looked up at the blue haired boy, his hand resting on his chest and he had just lifted his head from Rei’s shoulder.
“Yes Nagisa-kun, I promise.” Rei’s hand carded through the blonde hair gently, staring into the magenta eyes fondly, his mouth turned up into a soft smile.
Nagisa shifted away from Rei’s shoulder and leaned back on his left elbow, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he stared down the taller boy, “Really? Because I’ll be interrupting your study time, you know that right?”
“Yes Nagisa-kun a few afternoon of studying missed isn’t going to hurt me too badly. Nothing I can’t fix with an early morning study session the next day.” Rei shuffled so that he was resting against the headboard of Nagisa’s bed behind him.
“As long as Rei-chan doesn't work too hard,” Nagisa moved to settle himself so that his head could rest on Rei’s shoulder; he tilted his head so that he could kiss Rei’s neck softly. Rei bared his neck for easier access as Nagisa’s gentle kisses gained intensity.
-
His bags were packed, he’d kissed his mother and father goodbye and his brother was leaning against the door frame tapping his fingers against his upper arms impatiently as Rei took in the house he’d grown up in for the past eighteen years, the house he’d now be leaving behind for up to six months.
Well, there are weekends when he has no classes that he can return in if it pleases him but that’s beside the point.
“Rei-chan! Hurry up! I wanna get to our dorms and meet my roommate and see if they’ll let me put up my posters. Or get there first so they can’t refuse the posters.” Nagisa bounded into the room, pulling on Rei’s arm and dragging the reluctant boy away from his parents, both of whom looked quite composed. They had already gone through this with their eldest after all.
“I’ll look after him don’t worry.” Nagisa smiled politely at Rei’s parents, before pulling the taller boy completely out of the house, Rei’s brother trailing behind with his car keys jangling in his hand.
“It’s going to be so much fun, Rei-chan! We’ll make so many new friends!” Rei smiled nervously down at the energetic boy tearing towards his brother’s tiny car that he so kindly offered to drive them in.
“But don’t worry Rei-chan I’d never leave you behind! Remember what we promised? At least three times a week!” The blonde had successfully pulled him into the backseat of the car and was now leaning into his side looking up at him, grinning.
“Yes Nagisa-kun of course! I wasn’t even thinking about you doing anything of the sort!” Rei exclaimed, reaching to adjust his glasses nervously but his hand was intercepted by
Nagisa’s who pulled it down to his lap and leaned up to kiss Rei’s nose softly. He then adjusted Rei’s glasses so that they sat higher up on his nose and smiled sweetly.
“I know.”
-
“Kiyoko-chan is so nice! I mean she’s quiet, very quiet. I don’t think she actually talked once but she looked nice and she put up with all the guys falling to the ground around her so she has to be nice, right?” Nagisa’s feet rested on the wall next to Rei’s bed whilst his head hung off the side, his face was slowly turning red and his hair was brushing the ground each time he moved.
“Nagisa please sit up I’m sure that’s not good for your head.” Rei was sitting cross legged on the end of his bed sifting through his folders to locate the one he’d need for his studying tonight but found himself getting distracted by his boyfriends exposed hips as the shirt had ridden up whilst the blonde slid slowly off the bed.
Nagisa heaved himself upright and grinned at Rei, his hair mussed up and his face flushed bright red. Rei cleared his throat shakily and looked back down at his folders flipping through their contents with twitchy fingers until the folder was slipped out of his hand and there were hands around his shoulders and another mouth on his own and Rei decided that his homework could wait if only for tonight.
-
The music was loud, the drinks were flowing and everybody was dancing and screaming or singing as some liked to label it. Lights were flashing and slowly driving Rei to either blindness or madness, they were racing each other to the brink, Rei bet upon madness winning despite blindness’s clear head start.
Nagisa had managed to drag Rei into this club, his favourite apparently, and Nagisa had also managed to lose Rei completely, or perhaps it was the other way around. Rei couldn't quite remember. He knew that one moment Nagisa was grabbing at Rei’s hips and throwing his head around wildly, his voice loud and rough, mixing with the various other voices doing exactly what Nagisa was, ‘singing.’ Next thing he knew someone else was grabbing his hips, bigger hands, sweatier hands and Rei had spun around and shoved the new dance partner away from him before storming off towards the bar hoping to find Nagisa who had seemingly vanished.
This really wasn’t Rei’s scene, it wasn’t beautiful all these groping, dancing, sweaty young people together in a smallish room, drinking, screaming, giggling and crying. It was all too loud and the music that pounded itself into Rei’s head wasn’t what he’d typically choose to listen to. |
e9bc18b05b09402e964f0ff01cb665ae | ['b64d505dfa534b2db781f0e7d39a43d9'] | When he stopped by infront of your door you took your purse and unfasten your belt to get out.
“Hey....” Dabi said with a quiet voice. You turned around and apparently couldn’t keep your facade anymore at that point. He saw the frown, the discomfort and the pain with your look and your whole body posture.
“Will this change?!” it just came out of your mouth without even wanting you to blurt it out like that. Dabis eyes widened at your sudden break out. He knew you were not an easy going person when something upset you. When you didn’t get into your preferred seminar you almost threw a temper tantrum and when he started to chuckle because he found your reaction funny and overstated it even got worse. You were a woman, a person of manners with strong values and expectations and to you he was...
He was just a tatted young man with a fucked up sleep rhythm who robbed poor students.
With a deep sigh he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer. He pressed his warms lips against yours but you couldn’t snap out of your agitation.
“Four days...” he repeated and put his hands back on the steering wheel, giving you a clear sign to leave him alone now. You snorted in disbelief of just how resistant and stupid he was and went back to your apartment. As you turned your keys again a cold shiver ran down your spine and when you turned around he was gone already. Only the back lights were still visible in the distance. You snorted again angrily and kicked open your door and suddenly you felt a hard punch in your stomach. A strangled squeal escaped you mouth as you sank down on your knees and before you could react or even scream someone put a rope over your mouth and tied up your arms behind your back.
“Nnnghhh!” you tried to scream and kicked around with your feet only to get hit on your head and then everything was black.
You woke up from the piercing pain in your head. Your vision was blurred and your whole body was sore from your muscles fighting the treatment you got. It must have been some hours since the last time they woke you up, asked you weird questions and punched you in your stomach and kicked you, slapped you on the cheek until you tasted copper.
“Time to get up bitch!” the dark voice was chuckling next to your ear and without a warning your body got pulled up. You trembled, bit your lip and tried to swallow your tears and crying. The man put you on the chair again, leaned down and sighed deeply.
“So... I’ll ask you again... tell me about Dabi?” quickly you shook your head and sobbed. Was he involved in some underground gang stuff? Or the mafia? You couldn’t think clear and everything just hurt. Why were you held captive!? And who were those men, that apparently wanted to know where Dabi was.
“Aren’t you his little girl? A nice one he got there... I like your lips.” He stated and a rough laughter filled the room.
“What a shame...” he sighed and suddenly you felt his palm against your cheek, his fingers grabbing you tightly and twisting your head, forcing you to look at him as he came closer.
“Let go of me!” you hissed and closed your eyes, turned your head as the man leaned down to you, inspecting you with his dark and sinister eyes.
“Then it wouldn’t be such a fun, girl!” he broke out in laughter and let go of you. But in an instant as you turned your face back to him his hand slipped and the slap on your face was so immense that you even fell off the chair. A loud cry came over your lips and you curled up on the cold floor.
“Oh sorry darling!” he sighed amused and kneeled down to you. With watery eyes you glanced back at the man and all you could feel was fear. Pure fear for your life.
A sudden click let you and the man infront of you fall silent in an instant.
“Touch her one more time and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”
You knew this voice, you knew exactly whom it belonged to and in that moment you felt relief. The man raised his head slowly and you followed him with your eyes.
Bright blue eyes were fixed on you and as you locked eyes with Dabi your heart stopped for one moment. He wore completely black and a mask covered almost his whole face. The small letters on his chest pocked read CIA. You looked down to his gloved hand and spotted a gun that was pointing on the head of the man. As soon as you heard more and more footsteps coming closer, voices, screams getting louder, the room filled with other people. Abruptly the man was pulled up and you heard the clicking of what you thought were handcuffs. With tears streaming down your cheeks, you buried your face in your knees, let go of all the stress and fear and you knew you were save.
“Where are we going?” you asked Dabi as he drove off from the hospital. After some treatment they let you rest on a bed and Dabi came up to you and explained a few things concerning his work as undercover agent. Tiredly he sighed but as he laid his hand over yours and softly squeezed it you smiled. Your cheek was still burning like hell and was swollen but you felt a bit better.
“Do you want an iced coffee for your cheek?” he ignored your question and stopped at the McD drive through. | 4f653af667924382a6f837eb63f97d7c | ['b64d505dfa534b2db781f0e7d39a43d9'] | “D-Dabi wait...!” you stuttered but he didn’t want to let go of you. Dabi was everything and anything and sure not dumb. He knew you wouldn’t be on your period so he could come after his responsibilities as your partner. Sure, you were alone often and had to wait days or sometimes two weeks or more if he had a long run mission, but he wanted to make up for his absence as much as he could. Was it with small gifts as your short coffee dates while you were on break during the hospital work shifts that became a habit ever since you started to date him or the non martial goods. His soft kisses in the morning to wake you up, preparing you a bath or a nice meal – he started to learn how to cook, though it sometimes was too salty or didn’t look that appetizing, but who were you to complain! – the glances where you felt the tension as if he was already removing your clothes with his eyes, the gentle squeezes when he held your hand or even the many words he spoke out but never spoke directly to you, but only to your sleeping self.
The way he touched you and made you feel. The way he looked at your naked body that he saw as holy temple. As woman you felt worshipped by the way he treated you when you were together and you always returned the favour with pleasure.
“Oh I’ll make you say that I shouldn’t wait....” he moaned aroused and shoved your jeans down. His hands were quickly again at your face and your blouse. With a grin on his lips he unbuttoned your blouse, stroke it over your shoulders immediately so he could finally feel your soft skin again. You moaned satisfied as you felt his warm hands on your shoulders and now you didn’t want him to stop. Once he began to look at you the way he did when he entered the apartment there was no stopping and you should have known better.
“Dabi ...please...” you tried to resist although his movements were clear and he ripped off your bra in an instant, ready to take you right here in the hallway.
“Begging won’t spare you.” He chuckled with a dark voice and then opened up his own jeans as he already felt the tension and pressure. He put his hands under your butt cheeks and with a strong push he held you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling his hard erection against your entry. Groaning he pressed you against the wall, bend forward to kiss you again. Your teeth clacked together at the intensity and roughness. His emotions were raw pure and wild and he was in complete control of the situation. His hands kept you off the ground, with his body squeezing yours against the wall so you couldn’t get out of this situation. You buried your hand in his hair, pulling his head closer to play with his tongue and lips, biting them to make him snort in displeasure. You knew he wanted to be in control and it drove you crazy. With your other hand you searched down his chest, observing this body that you hadn’t felt for a month now. The waiting was the worst and actually it wasn’t those four weeks but the moment he came home until you felt him again connected with you. Most of the times it took him some hours until he came back to you, back into his world with you, other time he came home and left again for a mission, not really being present. But this time he was with you immediately in with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.
“You....!” his voice was brittle from the arousal and he couldn’t help but blush as you pulled down his pants and wrapped your long and thin fingers around his hard cock. Your skin was burning and your heart was racing from his touch, making you want more.
Something was different but Dabi couldn’t tell and at that moment he honestly didn’t care that much. You were healthy and if something would have happened or you didn’t feel like it you would have stopped him already. One time you were so stressed out that you almost threw up as he tried to touch you, still something you wanted to work on as it was nothing personal but stress-puking was not good.
With a gasped whisper he apologised to you just before he ripped your panties, making you squeak at his rough actions. His body still held you at place and slowly he moved back with his hips, careful not to let you take the lead. Grinning against your lips his fingers ran down to your entry, teasing you with his soft and gentle touches. Dabi wanted to make you scream and he knew exactly how he could achieve his goal. Experienced moves and caressing touches made you moan inbetween your kisses and your nails bury in his shoulder. You got aroused so quickly that you almost felt like you hit the high.
“Dabi... don’t ... no... I can’t....!” you panted and tilted your head back, feeling the hard wall against your back. He chuckled and leaned back a bit. His fingers moved out of you, slowly and steady back in again, making it feel like a punishment. The slow pace made it even worse, building up the next heat wave. You pressed your lips together, shut your eyes and tried to stay concentrated, not letting go. You could go longer than just mere five minutes! |
97abcc4d6e444f2380e753112d1c6e7e | ['b64daa570d674a3c8edc25fdc0a08576'] | Baby was the name temporarily bestowed by Quinn on the tiny bundle in front of her, in the absence of any formally made decision regarding her baby's future. Quinn had made tentative inquiries into the possibility of adoption but now staring at her daughter, her tiny chest heaving and falling as she drifted drowsily off to sleep, she wondered how she could bear to give her up.
Elaborate displays of flowers and congratulatory cards graced the bedside of the woman occupying the bed beside her. An adoring husband and matching golden-haired children spilled into the room constantly, cooing and gushing over the newborn baby girl, arms outstretched as they competed against one another to gain possession of the wriggling pink-clad newborn. No silver-and pink balloons festooned Quinn's side of the room; no one even knew she had given birth. Screaming and terrified she had almost broken her strict resolve not to speak to her mother; such was her desperation in seeking solace from someone other than the pale-faced nurse who'd gripped her hand tightly as Quinn had pushed her baby into the world. Afterwards, drugged and weary from labour, Quinn had felt nothing. Now, with her baby clutched close to her chest, she realized how alone she really was.
"Here Honey, let me take her," a dark haired nurse smiled at her, her arms reaching out carefully to take the peacefully slumbering baby when she sensed Quinn reluctance.
"You need to eat," the older woman chided her gently, smiling indulgently as a green uniformed orderly slid a tray of thoroughly unappetizing food in front of her. "You will need to keep your strength up, if you want to be able to keep up with this little one when you get home."
Picking up the fork slowly, Quinn took a hesitant bite of the chicken salad, the nurse smiling approvingly as she carefully spooned another mouthful of the bland food into her mouth.
"Good girl. I'll bring her back to you in an hour or so," she urged her on encouragingly, glancing briefly at the medical chart clipped on loosely to the end of the hospital bed.
Dropping the fork dejectedly onto the plastic tray, Quinn felt a sudden stab of longing as she watch the nurse sweep out of the room, murmuring softly to the tiny baby wrapped carefully in her arms. Her baby. Rejected by her family and treated as almost a total recluse in high school, loneliness wasn't a notion totally foreign to Quinn but even so, she still hadn't thought it possible to feel as alone and empty as she did then, lying forlornly in the narrow hospital bed.
Instinctively reaching for the cell phone lying carelessly on the bedside locker, Quinn only deliberated for a second before hastily punching in the number.
\--
The curtains drawn tightly in his room, not allowing even the narrowest beam of light trespass into the sanctuary of the darkened bedroom, Puck lay dejectedly on his bed his head throbbing furiously with the last remains of a hangover.
His mother would be home soon, screaming at him to mow the lawn so Puck turned over in the bed wearily, determined to make the most of the few hours remaining peace.
Quinn wouldn't think much of the room, Puck considered ruefully casting his eye around the posters plastering over every free space on the once-cream walls and the scattering of socks and worn sweaters that littered the carpeted floor. When Puck had first learned of the cheerleader's predicament, he would have been lying if he didn't admit that a small part of him, relished the prospect of having Quinn and the baby all to himself.
Puck mightn't have been the most obvious choice for a father. Finn may have been kinder, more sensitive but damn it, Puck was determined and strong and willing and those were qualities that shouldn't have been overlooked either. He had already earned a thick bundle of ten and twenty dollars bills through scouring the neighborhood for various jobs and that money now lay nestled beneath layers of shirts and sweaters, kept safe for Quinn and the baby and for whatever they might need.
Puck had plans for when he left high school. Big plans. He didn't plan on languishing in a university for four years exercising his brain when he could be exercising his muscles, working on one the of the numerous construction sites in town where the pay was rumored to be more than generous. Quinn could have her perfect, white picket fenced house and the accompanying fancy car in the driveway because he'd provide it for her. Provider. It gave him a powerful feel.
The familiar blare of Kings of Leon spilling from his cell phone roused Puck from his thoughts. Reaching for the phone, the sight of Quinn's name highlighted on the display made him feel sick.
\--
Her daughter restored to her rightful place, nestled in snugly against her breast, Quinn glanced at the infant curiously, deciding it was time she was bestowed with a name other than baby. Quinn had already toyed with a number of baby names, having retrieved a few possibilities from a tattered baby book she had found squeezed in among her father's collection of World War Two memorabilia in the library. None seemed quite right though and Quinn had been loath to rush into making such an important decision when she hadn't even been sure if she would keep her baby.
The television sounded dully in the background but Quinn hardly heard it. Running her finger lightly over her daughter's tiny, dimpled hand, her stomach clenched worriedly at the thought of seeing Puck for what would be the first time in days. | 910737bcdc484773882c4820a167611f | ['b64daa570d674a3c8edc25fdc0a08576'] | Deliberating momentarily over the lengthy wine list, Quinn ordered a glass of wine from the bar, feeling slightly uncomfortable as she sensed Will's gaze on her, staring at her curiously.
"What are you doing back here anyway?" he asked, taking a long gulp from his beer before plonking the bottle noisily on the table. "Visiting the family?"
The frothy beer had succeeded in relaxing Will and he seemed a little more at ease as he settled into the conversation.
"Yeah, something like that," Quinn replied, the lump forming in her throat threatening to choke her. "My dad's actually sick and well, my mom needs the support, so I'm here..." she trailed away, swallowing heavily as she focused her attention on the glass of wine clutched in her hand.
"I'm so sorry, Quinn," Will murmured as he awkwardly extended an arm and placed it tentatively on her shoulder. "Is it serious?"
"Cancer," Quinn stated bluntly, avoiding meeting her former teacher's eyes as she stared dully into space. "He's not expected to make Christmas. Not that it really matters," she shrugged, wiping a few tears stubbornly from her cheek. "I haven't spoken to my dad in years."
Quietness descended upon the pair after that, each one lost in their own thoughts before Quinn finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry for bringing down the mood. Here we were having a perfectly lovely catch-up and I've ruined it with my depressing family drama,"
"Don't be ridiculous, Quinn," Will spoke back softly, placing his hand gently on his arm, the tenderness of the action surprising Quinn by sending shivers racing up her spine. "Your dad is sick and you have every right to be upset. You should never apologize for how you feel,"
"I guess, Ms. Sylvester is still as insane as ever," Quinn sounded with a faint smile, in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.
"That she is," Will reported back dryly, settling back into his chair and taking a long drink from his beer. "At the moment, she is petitioning to ban the color pink from the school. Apparently Sue finds the color offensive and gender discriminative and any students found wearing it have been warned that they will be sent indefinitely to the coal-hole,"
"You're not serious," Quinn retorted, erupting with laughter and clamping a hand over his mouth to avoid ungraciously spewing beer all over the bar.
"You'll have another glass of wine, Quinn," and the statement was less a request and more a demand.
"I shouldn't," Quinn deliberated for a minute before remembering Will's honest smile and the feel of his hand warm on her skin. Besides, the thought of returning to the lonely hotel room was utterly depressing.
"Okay, you've twisted my arm," she finally relented with a bright smile, accepting the fresh glass of wine from a handsome dark-haired bartender.
Three glasses of sweet white wine later and Quinn was slurring, her eyes heavy and bloodshot and Will wasn't holding up much better, alcohol being a rarity in his normally hectic schedule.
"How is she?" Quinn finally brought herself to ask, twisting a lock of golden hair nervously around her finger.
Isabella would be ten now and scrapbooks of photographs sent monthly to Quinn's apartment showed her to be as blonde and as pretty as Quinn, the girl a possible future Cheerio and a definite heartbreaker, when it would come to the boys.
"She's amazing, Quinn," Will replies back honestly, running a hand through his slightly rumpled head of curls. "She's so smart. She's is top of her grade at school and you should see her playing soccer. Isabella kills the guys on the other team with these brilliantly sneaky little side swipes she does. You know, they'd hate her if she wasn't so sweet,"
Tears glistened in Quinn's eyes at that. Back in her tiny apartment in Boston, she doesn't allow herself dwell too long on thoughts of the tiny daughter she gave up for adoption at birth. Away from the familiar faces and places, it's easier somehow to forget. Quinn tells herself that the main reason she stays away from Lima is because of the painfully strained relationship between herself and her father. But inwardly, Quinn knows that if she were to be truly honest with herself, the truth is that being in Lima reminds her too much of her daughter and of the night she had cradled her close to her breast in the hospital and of how easily she could negotiate the familiar sequence of roads back to Emma and Will's white picket fenced house and knock on the door in the hopes of setting her eyes on her golden-haired daughter again.
Swiping a hand hastily across her damp cheeks, Quinn pushes the high barstool noisily away from the bar and gracefully steps down onto the scuffed wooden floor.
It was time to go.
"I guess, I should go back to the hotel. You know, early start and everything," she offered in explanation, dropping some bills onto the counter to cover her tab.
"I should be getting home, anyway," Will agrees uncertainly, cringing when he catches sight of the time on his watch.
It's inky black when Quinn pushes her way out onto the darkened street, the quietly blinking streetlights guiding her way to the budget motel a couple of doors away.
Quinn manages to maintain her composure long enough to shut herself into her cheaply furnished room and then she's inconsolable, her chest heaving with sobs as she flings herself on the creaking bed.
She should never have come back here.
Quinn is a good person and she knows she will perform her daughterly duty, visiting her father and pretending that everything is fine, like her family are so good at doing.
But things are not fine. Quinn misses her daughter and her father and she yearns to make things right with both of them. But she can't. Too much has been said and done and too much time has passed. Pulling the thin cotton sheet under her chin, Quinn closes her eyes wearily, waiting for sleep mercifully to claim her. |
f878aac4ea994e7fa6e7396cba0dd844 | ['b68a1dceacff456fbb080b16347976ca'] | _Unless..._ Jimin's eyes landed on Hoseok's guard shed right beside the gate of the school which was around 100 meters away from his position under the roof. _What if Hoseok kept extra umbrellas in there? I could borrow one and go home, I'm sure he won't mind._
Just like that, Jimin's mind was set. He didn't really have anything to cover himself, or his bag, so he just braced himself and ran out into the pouring rain yelling, "CHARGE!"
Never had Jimin gotten so soaked in such a small amount of time until then.
Right as he pushed into the rain, his hair and clothes immediately got wet and he felt goosebumps rising on his skin. Just as he arrived at the shed, Jimin found it to be locked. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no..." Jimin chanted as the rain grew even stronger and he got wetter and wetter as he stood outside the shed. In panic, he spotted a roofed bus stop outside the gate, across the street, so without thinking, he ran, almost slipping on the wet road, towards his only salvation.
When Jimin _finally_ reached the bus stop, he was shaking like crazy, his clothes and bag were soaked and he could feel his teeth chattering harder than they would during the winter. He hugged himself tightly, trying to keep himself warm. "What a great idea, Jimin. Not only are you stranded, but not even in a safe place."
The rain just got stronger and stronger.
* * *
7:21 am
"Ma, okay, I got it, I'll go home right away. I'll walk, what else? What? No ma, I-... Okay, okay, I'll check the bus stop, okay. I'll get going now, the rain is just getting stronger ma. Okay I love you, bye."
_20 minutes._
"Almost 20 minutes on the phone being scolded by my mother, nice." Yoongi muttered to himself, locking the doors of the school. He opened his giant umbrella walking out to the gate of the school, perfectly dry towards the bus stop, just to check if there was a bus coming soon. His mom rattled on for 20 minutes explaining why he should listen to the news more and why he shouldn't come to school too early but Yoongi would have none of it.
"What if someone else was stranded there..." Yoongi thought as he finished crossing the street and stopped in front of the bus stop. _Speaking of stranded._.. Yoongi's eyebrows shot up so fast when he saw a boy sitting on the floor of the bus stop, soaking wet, hugging his knees to his chest. A closer look and he could see him shaking like crazy.
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, don't sleep. You're shaking like crazy." Yoongi called out, putting down his umbrella and crouching in front of the shaking boy, combing the boy's wet hair away from his forehead. "Why did you go out in the rain like that? Don't you have an umbrella?" he stupidly asked.
"If I had an umbrella," the boy spoke up, eyes slowly blinking open to stare at Yoongi directly. "I wouldn't be soaking wet, and I'd be home right now." He sneezed (very cutely, in Yoongi's opinion) and dropped his head to his knees again. "But t-th-thanks for pointing that out, genius. M-min Y-yoongi, am I right?"
Yoongi was shocked. "D-do I know you?" the boy shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. You're the one that works in the recording room, right?" Yoongi nodded. "I like using that room too. I used one of your works to practice to in the school's studio, if you don't mind. A guy's gotta have quality music for his dance practices, unlike Jungkook and his girl group medley for a warm up song."
"W-wow. I'm flattered?" It came out of Yoongi as a question rather than an answer. "Wait, did you say Jungkook? On the dance team? Are you Park Jimin? Co-Captain of the dance team, Park Jimin?" _Cute boy who Taehyung keeps pointing out to me in the middle of lunch period who's apparently "my type" Park Jimin?_
The figured shakily chuckled. "And s-so he d-does know me... Sorry we had to m-meet like this b-but this idiot right here has been s-str-stranded for half an hour." Jimin leans back and sneezes a couple more times. Yoongi immediately goes to his side to rub his back soothingly.
Silently, Yoongi removed his jacket and draped it over Jimin's shaking shoulders. "Ah, I-I don't need this Yoongi, you need it more than me." Yoongi raised a hand when Jimin tried to give it back. "I insist. You're shivering over there. It's the least I can do." he gave him a small smile (and internally cooed like he would if he saw a baby) when Jimin snuggled into the jacket.
"So, wh-what are you doing here, Yoongi?" Jimin asked, after getting comfortable in Yoongi's jacket.
"Same as you. Stranded because I was in the recording studio."
"Ah, I see."
* * *
7:30 am
The two boys sat silently under the bus stop. Jimin's hair and clothes were still wet, but he stopped shivering with the help of Yoongi and his jacket.
Jimin liked Yoongi's presence around him. He'd known about Yoongi ever since Jungkook pointed out the recording studio on campus. His music was amazing, and listening to Jungkook gush about him and how he worked always made him feel very fond about him, even if they hadn't met until then.
The rain hadn't improved whatsoever. But for some reason, Jimin felt calm. He knew his mom was probably going to murder him once he got home, also.
Jimin sneezed again, and he let his head lean onto Yoongi's shoulder, closing his eyes. He could feel goosebumps run up his arms again, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of him being too forward with Yoongi all of the sudden. | e4d7c47d65094ff594dcc145470aa485 | ['b68a1dceacff456fbb080b16347976ca'] | "Nah, I'll be fine here. I know how to lock the gate anyways, you go on ahead." Yoongi motioned, as the rains subsided a little. "You should hurry while the rain isn't that strong. I don't want you to get sick on the way home."
Hoseok sighed and gave him a tight hug, ruffling Yoongi's brown hair before walking down the hall. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you? You're the student anyways. But oh well, stay safe! Bye Yoongles!"
"Yoongles, wait _what_ HEY YOU GET BACK HERE HOSEOK-!"
* * *
6:40 am
"Jimin? Park Jimin? Jiminie my soft fluffy boy, are you still in there?" Hoseok called out, walking around the building, looking for the said boy.
"JIMINIE! The news announced that classes are suspended. You need to go home!" After checking even the dance studio, which was surprisingly empty, Hoseok walked back outside, where the rain was slowly getting stronger. "Ah, maybe he left for home already." he sighed, opening his umbrella and walking out of the campus.
Back inside the building, Jimin casually walked out of the bathroom inside the studio, wiping his newly washed face with a towel. "Was someone calling for me?" he poked his head outside the studio doors to find the hallways void of students, teachers and workers. "Oh well, maybe they're all just late." Jimin muttered to himself, slamming the door closed not even noticing the loud echoes from the rain. He started back up the music and continued to practice.
Outside, the rain got stronger and louder each passing minute, and Jimin didn't notice a thing.
* * *
7:03 am
"Finally! It is complete!" Yoongi yelled out, jumping from his seat to stretch. "And it has only been...almost 30 minutes. Alright Yoongi, that's enough for today." He turned off the software and the lights, grabbed his bag and umbrella and walked out of the room down the stairs.
Right as he arrived on the ground floor, his phone rang up. "Hello?"
"Yoongi! Oh my goodness, you're alright." a woman's voice immediately called out. "School was suspended _almost_ _an hour ago_ why aren't you home yet? I know you brought your umbrella to school young man, the rain is so hard my goodness-"
"Ma, ma, ma, I'm fine, don't worry." Yoongi sheepishly scratched the back of his head, leaning on the wall. "I just got caught up with some work in the recording room..."
He could here his mom sigh loudly over the harsh banging of water on the window beside him. "Yoongi, honey, this is a typhoon we're in right now, not spring day, when they tell you to come home, you have to come home..." her voice trailed on and on and on and Yoongi had to sit on the stairs while his mom rattled on about how she was worried and how he was going to get sick and all of that.
_At the rate she's talking, I'm only getting home after this typhoon ends..._
"-WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE YOU?"
_What was that...?_
* * *
7:05 am
Jimin definitely lost track of time. He'd been dancing for 5 songs straight, which was enough to make him drench his entire shirt for _the second time_ that day. "Aish, Jimin, now you're going to go to class in a wet shirt." he murmured to himself while unconsciously looking out the window.
_Oh, mom was right, it did rain. I'm sure it will let out before school ends later._
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing loudly, ringtone bouncing off the walls before he maniacally lunged for the device which was seated beside the speakers. _Speaking of mom..._ "Hello, mom?"
"PARK JIMIN WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE YOU?" the voice yelled through the speaker, making Jimin wince, quickly pulling out the AUX cord from his phone. "Mom, my ears..." he whined, taking a seat and leaning on the mirror.
"Jiminie, you had me so _worried_ , why aren't you home yet?" his mom exasperatingly sighed from the other side of the call. "Mom, what are you talking about, class starts in less than 30 minutes..."
"Aigoo, my son, you aren't paying attention to your surroundings again, the government cancelled classes thirty minutes ago due to the rain. I wanted to drive to school and pick you up but it's raining too hard over here, some of the streets were reported to be flooding."
_Was it really raining that hard?_ Jimin questioned himself, walking out the door and looking through one of the windows to see the rain pouring hard and fast. _So those were the noises I heard while in the bathroom._ "Mom, I'll be able to go home by myself don't worry. I'll just wait for the rain to stop, or find a ride home."
"Jimin, I called the school, but they told me that everyone was sent home right as the announcement was made." Jimin coughed, confused. "They did? Then why am I still here?"
"I don't know Jimin, shouldn't I be asking you that? I know you didn't bring an umbrella with you today, but please come home soon, I don't want you to get sick."
"Mom, I'll do my best to find a way back, okay? Don't worry. I love you."
Jimin quickly packed up his things and walked to the courtyard of their campus, right where the roof ends while watching the rain pour in front of him. He had no idea how he was supposed to get home, there were almost no cars on the streets, and he wasn't even wearing a jacket that day. "Park Jimin, you idiot, why didn't you listen to your mother before you left the house."
Hoseok wasn't even in his shed so he couldn't find anyone to bring him home. |
634892251ff64a3580f2c42e41047690 | ['b6a8cb40f8f447e4af8e488b9dbe0709'] | “Come, I wish to show you something.” She reached into her cloak and from it pulled the dragon egg, running her fingers over the scales. It was gorgeous, a bright white despite its age, marbled with indigo hues that were the same color as her eyes. Jon came up behind her shoulder and out of habit put his hand over her hip as he looked down at the egg. “Your sister gave this to me, she found it in the crypts when the white walkers attacked.”
“It’s beautiful. May I?” He asked, and she placed the stone egg carefully in his gloved hands. “I’m surprised Sansa gave it to you.”
Daenerys chuckled. “She’s a skilled politician, Jon. She knew what such a gift would mean to me.” Respect was plain in her voice.
“It’s stone,” He said suddenly, with a forlorn note. “Dead.”
Her lips twisted up as she took it back from him. “My children’s eggs were in the same state when I was given them. It is possible to wake dragons from Stone, but not easy. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about this, before we go against Cersei. You may not approve of my methods.”
His brows furrowed and he took a step back. “Your methods?”
“A secret our ancestors forgot, though it was always right in front of their faces.” Daenerys placed the egg on the coals, watching the flames lick against the scales. “Our words are not a threat against our enemies, they’re an instruction. To hatch a dragon you need Fire and Blood, a human sacrifice.” She could feel his body still next to her, horrified. “If it is a stone dragon, you need more than that. There is magic in the blood of Kings.” She straightened and looked up into his eyes. “When my children were born, three Kings went into the pyre, their sacrificial cradle. My husband, my son, and of course, myself.”
“And you want to do the same thing to Cersei?” His voice was dark and unreadable. She was sure that he disapproved.
“I will have Cersei Lannister face justice for the pain that she has caused.” Daenerys said coldly, pulling the egg from the flames with her bare hands. “If that justice comes from Fire and Blood, then so be it.”
12. Bran
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is not a happy chapter.
His teeth gnashed into the corpse of the bear, the creature had put up a far fiercer fight than the deer or even men that his brother preferred. He gobbled it up, swallowing the beast with two quick bites, savoring the feeling of it sliding down his gullet. And yet he was still hungry. He shot up into the sky, feeling adrenaline surge into his wings as he soared over the mountains of the Vale, not far from where his mother’s armies camped.
Out in the distance, he could hear the clicking cries of Drogon calling to him, and he careened in that direction, soaring through the misty clouds with no care for coordinates or miles the way humans did. He passed over one little hamlet, smoke curling from chimneys and people scurrying into their halls and houses as his shadow passed over them. Rhaegal could not help the disdain he felt at the sight of them, a feeling that Bran echoed, as small as he was inside the mind of the dragon, men were boring in their idiocy, too involved in… making things such as weapons and clothes and monuments to their mortality, to be truly worth his time.
Their mother the exception, of course. The dragons could never hold disdain for their Valyrian kin, connected to them on a level that humans could not hope to understand.
Rhaegal roared in amusement at the petty fear of the villagers below, echoed by his brother, who vocalized back to him from the Riverlands, staying closer to their mother in his hunting ventures than Rhaegal as he was prone to do. When they met in the fields of the God’s Eye, a place untouched by man, the sun was nearly out of the sky, stars blinking overhead. They settled there, ready to sleep.
When the Dragon’s eyes closed, the boy was promptly thrown back into his own body, flung against his will. He blinked, processing the change in scenery, the humans wandering the great halls outside of his room, and his stomach rumbled, despite the fact that he had eaten a whole bear…
It took him a few moment to remember that he was not the Dragon. It took longer for him to remember who he was, Bran Stark. Human.
He used his arms to hoist himself into the new chair that Daenerys's Hand had designed for him, a contraption that allowed him to push the wheels himself, rather than rely on others for his mobility. He wasn’t sure how long he had been inside the mind of the beast, which if Bran was still capable of worry, would have scared him.
He was well aware of the side effects that being a Warg could bring if one spent too much time inside an animal. Yet he had hardly been inside Rhaegal more than an hour during battle, the monster agreeing to let him participate rather than simply being overtaken by the force of the Three-eyed Raven’s will. The minds of Men were more dangerous than simple beasts like dogs and wolves to inhabit, the influence of human’s more complicated cognition and personality could influence the Warg even when they were not actively possessing.
Bran Stark did not know how much influence a Dragon, a beast more intelligent than any man, could have on a person.
He had felt that influence when he had watched the Dragon Queen’s army leave Winterfell, with his brother at her side. A deep, roiling fear had filled him, his mother was abandoning him just as she had abandoned him before, leaving him crippled and alone— | 775d170535a04d0b83234b6df4e6893b | ['b6a8cb40f8f447e4af8e488b9dbe0709'] | There was a beat, and then with a great Rush, the Moment appeared before her, inches away, breathing on her face. It felt like it was gathering a measure of her soul, seeing all of her. Even the parts of her she didn’t know yet. _Do you want me to bring him back? Is that his punishment, to suffer alone in that Universe, knowing that you’re gone and that he hurt you? Or do you want him snuffed out of existence entirely, nothing but a memory for you to look back on? Would that fill your belly with revenge, World-Killer?_
Rose opened her mouth, but she couldn’t answer. Didn’t know how. _That’s what I thought._ It whispered, moving back. _I’m sending you through now, Bad Wolf. And do me a favor_ , it hesitated. _Do not go looking for the Doctor. Do not attract their attention. The Doctor has things they need to do, people they need to save, and they cannot do it if they know you are alive. It would alter the timeline of the Universe far too much. You will know when it is safe for you to return to them, but do not let the Doctor see you until then._
“How will I know?”
_It is in your name, Bad Wolf._
———
———
———
It didn’t take very long for Rose to find her rhythm in Torchwood, doing exactly what she had once been doing the first time she’d gotten trapped in the alternate universe. Except this time, she was able to step back and let Jack lead. It was interesting, watching him. He was so entirely comfortable here, like he’d found his purpose. He had always been confident and capable, but it was so smooth and easy for him to take control of the operation, like it came as naturally to him as breathing.
Torchwood was one thing, but outside of it, she had a much harder time adjusting. The world had moved on without her, politics were different, countries were different, tech was different. She almost felt like she was learning a new language as she was adjusting to the modern lingo.
People she had once known had forgotten about her, which wasn’t something she’d been prepared for at all. Martha Jones, Rose’s old friend, was now in a nursing home having worked for U.N.I.T. her whole life, a widow with a vast horde of grandchildren that came and visited her almost every day. Shireen had swanned off to Europe in her thirties and stayed there. Mickey had run a tech firm up until old age had forced him to quit, but even in his eighties he still remained a strong hand behind the scenes, continuing to direct his heirs in important decisions.
Rose had watched this all from a distance, happy for them, that they’d been able to get on with their lives. But it broke her heart. To think that Jack had been there the whole time, watching them slip farther away. She admired him greatly.
Eventually, Rose decided to go back to University to help herself get reacclimatized to the world. When she wasn’t at Torchwood, she was studying, using her vast immortality to get degree after degree in all sorts of fields. Anthropology, Sociology, Mathematics, Biology. Jack liked to tease her about it, especially when she took language classes. The Tardis’s effect still worked on him, but as Rose liked to grouchily point out, he hadn’t spent years in a Tardis-less universe followed by who-knows-how-long in an empty void.
———
It was nearly thirty years of keeping her head down before Rose Tyler was given Universal permission to see the Doctor again. They had been combing through the hollowed-out remains of a house, looking for hints as to what had caused the destruction, thinking that the explosion had been of preternatural origins. Rose had lifted a piece of rubble in what had once been a bedroom, exposing a set of shelves.
The insides were remarkably intact. Though, Rose thought as she rifled through it’s contents, the original owner must have been a pack rat. The shelves were filled with paper after paper of mostly junk. A flier at the bottom caught her eye, and she pried it out, dusting off the glossy paper that had yellowed with age.
“You still got that Vortex manipulator?” Rose asked, carefully making her way to the burnt-out living room, where Jack was fiddling with the controls of a smart Telly, trying to get it to work again so he could use the camera to see what had been going on before the explosion happened. The flier was still clenched in her fist.
“Yeah, but you know that it stopped working centuries ago, why-“ He looked up at her, read the expression on her face.
“Because,” She held up the flier for him to read. “I've got a party to attend.”
He grabbed it from her hands and looked down on the writing:
**SAY GOODBYE TO THE OLD AND WELCOME TO THE NEW**
**BRING 2005 IN WITH A BANG**
**FEATURING THE BAD WOLF BAND**
———
They’d both worked on the Vortex manipulator for months before it was functional. But, Jack told her roughly one hundred thousand times, it would only work once. And she had about twenty minutes before it was time to go back, otherwise she might get stuck in 2005.
She was immortal, so that prospect wasn’t nearly as daunting as it should be.
They hugged each other as Rose stood in his flat. She’d prepared extensively, trying to remember exactly how she’d looked all those years ago, doing research on materials and styles of the time so her clothes would match. She looked up at Jack, the Vortex manipulator on her wrist, just waiting to press the button.
“Ready?” He asked her, and she nodded.
“See you soon.”
Jack grinned. “You better.”
——— |
97b4469eb2f34b0f9c690bd2b01581a5 | ['b6a971f73d984b698da54e0c3006250d'] |
Burnin' Love
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> A (belated) Christmas present for the wonderful Jinglebell!
>
> As usual, not beta'd or britpicked, so all mistakes are my own!
1.
The first time was an accident.
The fire had come from Sherlock's flat, and if having his experiment unintentionally burst into flame wasn't embarrassing enough, he couldn't even get his sorry arse out of the building by himself. In his alarm, Sherlock stood upright so fast—forgetting for a moment about the giant goggles he was donning—that in his efforts to grab something to tamp out the flames, he'd knocked his skull on a kitchen cupboard and gone down faster than a....well, than a man who'd inadvertently cracked his skull into a nice solid cupboard.
His vision swam as he sank to his knees, though he fortunately had the foresight to angle his descent away from the flames, and managed to land out of direct danger. But he was slipping, the throbbing in his skull painfully present, and even with the room illuminated with the bright flickers of fire, Sherlock's vision was steadily darkening.
By the time Sherlock groaned into consciousness, the fire had grown, having found more flammable chemicals to fuel its path across the table, and was still steadily spreading, while the room was rapidly filling with thick, dark, probably noxious smoke. Sherlock was lucky to have recovered before smoke inhalation kept him unconscious. The entirety of the table was ablaze now, being fed by the old wood and chemicals splayed across it. Sherlock cursed under his breath and scrambled into an upright position, clutching his head when he went dizzy. He backed against the cupboard and wrenched the goggles off—which turned out to be a tremendously terrible mistake, because _damn,_ now there was smoke in his eyes and how the hell was there so much _smoke_ in here?
He must have been out longer than he initially thought, because now that he rose trepidatiously to his feet, he could see on the other side of the table, where the cabinets there were also burning. As well as the door, which was unfortunate, because that was his nearest exit. Which meant that he'd have to take the other door, further away and around the corner. Looking out to the sitting room, the entire flat was cloudy with dark smoke. It was then that Sherlock started coughing, choking on ash and fumes, as though seeing all that smoke triggered the realization of the itching need to cough that had been present all along.
He took a few staggering steps forward, and it was right about then that the kitchen table gave way, the burning legs unable to hold its weight, and it came crashing down right into Sherlock's path. He scrambled backward again, which sent him falling on his arse. Only this time, his strength left him when he tried to get back up.
It was the smoke, all the damn smoke, he couldn't think straight, he couldn't _breathe_....
Smoke inhalation had gotten the better of him, but Sherlock vaguely heard a loud noise from the other room. He tried to lift his head, to peer around the wreckage of his table, to cry for help or clamber to his feet, but he was dizzy and the smoke was thick, and he felt so heavy...
There were heavy footsteps, clomping boots, and maybe a voice—it was difficult to know, Sherlock was fading again. A voice, definitely a voice, and then he had just enough coherence to recognize that he was being lifted, up and up, into someone's arms. Strong arms, as they cradled him with apparent ease. He breathed shallowly, clutching against the heavy fabric of a coat. He caught a flash of yellow and something reflective when he blinked his eyes open once, but the smoke was too much and it burned and he had to close them again.
_Firefighter_ , his lazy mind informed him, somehow making connections even under duress. Although, really, when a building's on fire, a fireman really is the most likely person to encounter. Still, whoever had him was murmuring things at him—or maybe he was shouting, it was hard to tell at this point—but whatever it was, Sherlock felt safe and secure and comfortable, and the man's—yes, judging by stature, definitely a man—voice was soothing and calming....
He clung to the man's coat with the little strength he had left. Sherlock was jostled as he shifted so he was being carried bridal-style, and he dared blink his eyes open again. Heavily clothed arms tightened around him, and Sherlock could feel the firefighter hunch protectively over him while tongues of fire licked at his uniform. Another shift in their position, and he looked up just in time to see a wide boot kick through his door, which crumbled into ashes to free them from the heat and the flames and lead them stumbling into the cool and comparatively dark stairwell.
The journey down the stairs and out the door was a jerky but solid one, and Sherlock never worried for a second that the fireman might drop him or trip. He greeted the rush of fresher air with a halfhearted sneeze, which triggered a spasming coughing fit during which Sherlock felt himself rushed toward an ambulance.
He was set down, though comforting hands stayed with him, rubbing his arm gently, and something was thrust over his nose and mouth. Sherlock reflexively turned away from it, but soft cooing from overhead soothed him into holding still. Fresh, clean oxygen came pouring out, and Sherlock's entire demeanor changed as he crushed the respirator closer and sucked in the new air greedily. | 427d1de227a94b3ea7cc60ef0eb03ae7 | ['b6a971f73d984b698da54e0c3006250d'] | "I observed," Sherlock answered simply. The fireman's expression must have been expectant, because with a huff Sherlock began to explain. "You're in the military. Or were—recent discharge, I imagine, with the wounded shoulder. Yes, I noticed that while you were carrying me, the way you favored it. Your tan, however, I didn't notice until later when you'd taken your helmet off; saw it around your neck. Almost thought it was smudged of ash at first—silly of me, really, with my extensive knowledge of the stuff—" He said this proudly, as though it was something that should make sense to ordinary people. "—but once I was more clearheaded it was clearly a tan. But not from a vacation, no, it left a very particular set of tan lines, not the kind one would acquire on holiday. That, accompanied by the dog tags tucked away under your coat, made it quite obvious that I was dealing with a military man."
"...'Dealing with'...." was the only thing the blonde could think to say for a moment.
"Yes, quite. Anyway, the way you barked out orders was indicative of someone of a higher ranking. Not terribly high—it was a bit more friendly, less formal than someone too high up the ranks—you're used to dealing with men you're somewhat familiar with, and with whom you're on friendly terms. Captain or Major, then." Sherlock pointed to the fireman's coat next, frowning. "Of course, the pins were helpful, once I noticed them, after I could focus again. Definitely a Captain, then."
"You got...." The blonde shook his head, trying to make sense of this crazed yet brilliant civilian. "You got _all that_ from _one_ encounter?"
"Yes."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Sherlock Holmes." A pause, where the firefighter just stared at him blankly. "Consulting detective," Sherlock prompted, as though that should mean something to the other.
"Riiiight...."
"Oi! Watson!" one of the other firefighters called, and when the blonde looked over his shoulder, Sherlock filed away that particular tidbit of information.
The blonde—an ex-army doctor, Captain Watson, apparently—herded Sherlock toward the paramedics again, even though there was no reason for him to need any assistance on that front, and was off with his coworkers before Sherlock had the chance to say another word.
3.
The third time was definitely on purpose.
And Mycroft was definitely getting tired of paying to repair the flat's fire damage. Not to mention Mrs. Hudson.... Which was why Sherlock had informed his meddlesome brother beforehand—who was none too pleased about his plans for the evening but too busy to do anything about it—and made sure Mrs. Hudson would be out for the weekend.
Then he set the fire. And he waited.
He didn't call right away this time—let it build up a bit first. Too long, apparently, because by the time the sirens were blaring down the street, Sherlock was choking on smoke. His legs were trembling, so rather than wait to fall, Sherlock slid down into a sitting position, back propped up against the wall. He covered his mouth with a towel—not that he was unfamiliar with breathing in smoke, but this kind lacked the pleasant tinge of nicotine—and closed his eyes against the smoke, patiently waiting for the fire crew to come to his aid. And hopefully that Captain Watson.
The crash of someone bursting through the door, perhaps a sound Sherlock was becoming far too familiar with, registered with him, but he didn't respond. It was childish perhaps, but he wanted the blonde to carry him out again. It was probably the only way he would end up in his arms, and though a bit underhanded, the idea of being cradled close to his chest made Sherlock feel strangely warm and illogically cheery.
He could both hear and feel the heavy tromp of boots as they neared him, and a muttered string of expletives brought to Sherlock the wonderfully familiar voice of Captain Watson. Then thick strong arms were circling his torso, dragging him to his feet, and Sherlock nearly squawked as he was tossed rather unceremoniously over the man's shoulder, with _a firm hand on his arse._ Presumably to keep him steady, but that didn't change the way he jolted at the contact. Decidedly not unpleasant, even given the circumstances.
He stiffened at the unexpectedly rough treatment of being thrown over someone's shoulder—and the unintentional feeling up he'd just received—and braced his hands against Watson's back to keep him from dangling off his shoulder uncomfortably. Not _at_ _all_ the way Sherlock had been hoping to be carried...though he wasn't entirely opposed to this way, either. Could be fun, he imagined, in different circumstan—
That thought was nipped in the bud by the man underneath him jerking a bit in response to Sherlock's unexpected reaction. He'd looked passed out to the firefighter, after all.
"You were just unconscious," he spoke over his shoulder, voice rough through his helmet and mask. Sherlock was just barely able to make out the accusation in his tone.
"I was faking," he responded simply as they started down the stairs in a practiced gait.
" _Why?_ " Sherlock could imagine the way his blue eyes would narrow with irritated confusion.
"I was hoping you'd attempt resuscitation," Sherlock answered with a nonchalant shrug. Unfortunate it hadn't gotten that far, really.
They had just burst out the front door and made it several paces when Watson's steps faltered. "You were _what?_ "
"I didn't catch your name last time," Sherlock prompted, ignoring the question. He propped himself up to look back at the blond from over his shoulder. "Or the time before that."
The man nearly paused to gape at him. "I'm carrying you out of a burning building," he reminded him with an incredulous expression, speaking slowly as though Sherlock were mentally compromised.
"Yes. I am aware." _Very_ aware. Especially of the gloved hand still snugly splayed across his arse. Not that he was complaining.
"And...you're asking me about my name."
"Yes." |
e555fbed97314328800fc22270d27bd4 | ['b6ac6034576b42bdbfe6db9f80cae373'] | Sirius realized then that their casual flirting wasn't so casual for Remus. He was fit and all to Sirius, but never would he have thought someone that good looking would like him back. The raven haired boy cracked a smile then, a part of him wanting to really see if it was true, if Remus would chase or get sick and tired of him and leave after realizing liking Sirius meant work. The latter made his stomach turn, so he shoved it to the back of his mind, grabbing the book he'd been reading to return it to the shelf he'd found it on.
His mood turned sour, leaving without letting Remus respond. Once the book was back in its rightful place, Sirius sped out of the library, his face hot and heart pounding in his ears. He could hear his name being called, but he simply ducked his head on the way to the arts building. Once he was in class, Sirius took his spot in the back of the auditorium and ran his hands over his face. He shouldn't have ran off so easily, Remus probably saw it as some sort of rejection.
Sirius laughed into the palms of his hands. He wasn't the one being rejected; he could've even kissed Remus if part of him didn't snap and insist on sabotage. This was why he couldn't ever have nice things. Sirius was broken and messed up and nobody wanted that. He was just more trouble than it was worth.
5. Chapter 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is from Remus' point of view, just to change things up a bit and further the storyline a bit better than I could with Sirius right now. Hope you guys enjoy and expect another Remus POV for chapter 6 as well~
**-Remus POV-**
“A kiss maybe…?”
The words made Remus’ head shook up to look at Sirius. Was he really considering kissing _ him _ of all people? It's not that he would say no to kissing someone who openly flirted with him, but why would someone so painstakingly attractive want anything to do with him? Maybe he was just teasing him like he always did.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Sirius suddenly walked away from him. From what he could tell, Sirius looked upset, like he was ready to cry. Was it something he did- er, didn't do? He couldn't just let him go like that without a word said, so he stumbled to his feet, grabbing his things and rushing out of the library after the raven haired boy. As much as he called out for him though, Sirius didn't seem to be listening to him. Was he really that pissed at him for not responding?
God, he was worse than most girls he'd tried to date in the past.
He'd followed Sirius all the way to where his lecture was, hesitating before stepping through the door. After a quick scan of the auditorium though, he couldn't seem to spot the boy. There was no way he could've left, so he looked again, finding him seated in a corner, hunched over with his head in his hands. It reminded him of the boy he saw a month ago in the forest.
Then it hit Remus. The boy he saw had to be Sirius: same long dark hair, same angled jaw line and small stature. It wasn't like Sirius had to know all of that, but something clicked with Remus. He didn't know what it was exactly, but the realization settled quite nicely with him.
That wasn't the time for mulling over his werewolf-isms though, the sandy blond clenching his fists for a moment before running up the steps to where Sirius sat. Remus didn't hesitate to grab him, pulling him to his feet. He didn't give the raven time to question him though, grabbing Sirius’ bag before dragging him out of the auditorium.
Sirius just barely followed him, but Remus was strong, so if he had to drag him, he would. Once they reached somewhere more secluded, Remus let go, turning to face Sirius. The shorter male shrank under his gaze though, backing himself up against the wall of the corridor they were in, like he was shielding himself from what was to come.
Remus had to remind himself not to let instincts take over, unclenching his fists and taking a deep breath before even thinking about speaking. Sirius watched him, silent and nervous and Remus could see his eyes darting around for an emergency escape route.
“Listen, Sirius,” he started, “I'm not mad at you, if that's what you think is going on. I just… I want to know why you ran.”
Remus hoped to get an answer, but all Sirius did was drop his gaze to the floor between them. It seemed like he was trying to pick out an answer and Remus swore he could just hear the gears whirring in his mind.The scent Sirius gave off spelled guilt and fear. Of what, he had yet to find out.
“I…” Sirius trembled and closed his eyes. A beat of silence passed and Remus could see he'd been crying. “I didn't want you to reject me, so I ran. The idea was stupid anyway, but I still ran.” His eyes were still closed, but Remus could still see the pain and the fear.
Then Sirius was crying, tears spilling down his cheeks. Remus’ breath caught in his throat and he was instantly wiping Sirius’ cheeks and pulling the boy into a hug, letting him cry into his shoulder. Usually when it came to crying, Remus was the one with his face buried in Bill’s shoulder, from the pain of how the moon affected him, but Sirius needed his strength now, gripping his jacket hard as he sobbed. | 58efe3cd3d504c44838e6c6d56adcd54 | ['b6ac6034576b42bdbfe6db9f80cae373'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I just sort of cranked this out as a Christmas feels kinda thing, since I didn't celebrate this year and this ship is precious to me. Forgive me for any rushed writing/typos, I really wanted to post this as soon as possible! Enjoy!
Zen was never one for Christmas, not with all the bad memories between him and his family, the celebration usually crumbling into arguments and expectations of what Zen should be doing with his life. It was difficult for him to be in a cheery mood, even with all the festivities and colorful lights surrounding him. Most of the time, he'd hole up in his apartment with a book and spiked hot chocolate, an occasional cigarette here and there. But Yoosung… Yoosung seemed to flip all of that up on its head the first time they spent the holidays together.
The blond seemed to spend the whole month decorating and humming holiday tunes. It was endearing to say the least, and the warmth and cheer coming from his small boyfriend seemed to just lift Zen's spirit, if not actually make him a little excited for the 25th. He'd even bothered to go out and buy some gifts, wrapping them in secret when he was alone in his house—which seemed near impossible with how many times Yoosung dropped by over the month, even putting up some lights for Zen when he wasn't looking.
When the 24th came around, Zen felt like he was buzzing with anticipation. He and Yoosung planned out the perfect date: tickets to the annual lights show, dinner and at the end of the night, Zen would give Yoosung his gift; the first of many.
He felt warm for once during the cold season, his chest practically radiating heat when he saw the younger blond dressed up and ready for their date. It was definitely a sight to see when Yoosung answered the door, but Zen held back, smiling and pulling a bouquet of roses from behind his back, watching as his boyfriend's face lit up with joy.
“Merry Christmas Eve.” He hummed as Yoosung took a moment to admire the red flowers.
“These are beautiful, Zen…” Yoosung whispered before grinning and perching up on his toes to give Zen a kiss before disappearing into his apartment to put the flowers in water.
He rushed back quickly, pulling on his jacket, scarf and hat on as quickly as possible and Zen could barely hold back a laugh. He stepped forward, adjusting the boy's hat so it was on straight and covering both his ears.
“No need to rush, the show isn't for another half hour.” He mused, taking Yoosung's hand in his own once the blond was done zipping his jacket.
“I know, I'm just excited, I guess.” Yoosung bit his lip in excitement and Zen laughed then, pulling the younger boy out of the apartment building.
The streets were definitely packed with people, some getting last minute shopping done others on dates and even heading to the same light show they had tickets for.
The evening went by smoothly, all according to Zen's plan. He held Yoosung as they watched the park come to life with Christmas lights, even sharing a kiss near the end. After hailing a cab to head to the restaurant Zen had reservations for, they sat close to each other, buzzing from excitement and idly chatting with the cab driver. He was surprised to be recognized by an older man like the driver, but it seemed his daughter was a fan.
“I guess I'm cursed with such a recognizable face forever…” Zen sighed dramatically, earning a good jab from Yoosung's elbow. He playfully squeezed the blond's shoulder in return knowing how much he hated Zensw lamenting over his beauty. “Don't worry, sweetheart. This beauty is all for you.” He whispered in Yoosung's ear so the cab driver wouldn't hear, watching as the younger boy flushed at the comment.
They were at the restaurant in no time, Zen tipping the driver before he and Yoosung stepped out in the cold street. They shivered for a moment, before the actor delicately placed his arm around Yoosung's waist, leading him inside so they could claim their table.
As soon as they were seated, Zen could see that Yoosung was glowing with excitement. He was glad to see him so happy during the date, and Zen even chanced holding his hand across the table.
“You sure look happy.” He mused, stroking his thumb over Yoosung's knuckles.
“I am.” Yoosung practically grinned from ear to ear. “Today's just been so amazing. I thought you didn't like Christmas, so I'm a little surprised too.”
Zen nodded, squeezing Yoosung's hand before glancing over the drinks menu. “You're right, but something's changed for me this year.” He smiled, watching Yoosung blush as he realized what the change was.
The waitress came around to take their orders, Zen settling on some Prosecco and a plate of pasta, Yoosung asking for the same. The blond was never good at deciding foods at fancy restaurants like the one they were in, so Zen usually made sure to pick something he knew Yoosung would like.
With the arrival of their drinks, Zen made a short but sweet toast to their health and a happy upcoming year. He didn't want to toast to their love, because he already loved Yoosung with all his heart and it was clear to the blond.
As dinner came to a close with dessert, their previous conversation had lulled to a comfortable silence, Zen watching as Yoosung revelled in the tiramisu he'd ordered. The actor indulged as well, sipping on his second glass of prosecco alongside some raspberry mousse. He'd even fed Yoosung a piece, watching how his face lit up at the rich tasting Chocolate before stealing a bit of his cake. |
07ceddf1ec4848c6bfd7b77ec7921252 | ['b6e1e23a17844aae897d27bbf0ad49ed'] | A new pale beginning
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry it might be bad, its a first time making a pale ship and about dream bubble shenanigans
Porrim was walking around the dream bubbles. She looked around, feeling so new to these although she also felt it was like a new beginning for her. Currently, she is in one which seems like a snow biome. What a snowy wonderland this is, she thought to herself, giggling. She stops and resumes roaming around the bubbles in hopes to find at least a friend or one of her fellow S-Grub players.
After roaming for who knows how many days, she spots something from a distance. Unsure of who or what it is, she squints her eyes. She realizes it was really nothing but a bark of a tree. The Maryam frowns. She was really looking forward to seeing someone. She sighs and sits down on a nearby rock. She whispers to herself “Where is everyo+ne…?” She begins to feel lost within the bubbles. She shakes her head. “I must no+t give up, Kanny needs me!” she says to herself, marching to the edge of the land.
Porrim walks for many days seeing mostly just animals and plants of different kinds. She sits down and decides to rest for a while. It wouldn’t hurt to relax for a bit, will it? Upon waking up, she realizes she was kept warm the whole time. She was expecting to get cold over time but she wasn’t. She looks at what kept her warm and realizes it is Cronus’s jacket. Does this mean he’s somewhere nearby, she asks herself. She looks around and sees Cronus somewhere near her, asleep. She lets out a relieved sigh and smiles. She puts the jacket on him to keep him warm as well. Though, as she put the jacket on her, he bolts up, awake. “wvhats happening?! Wvho wvhere… oh hey chief. nice to see youre awake nowv” Cronus says to Porrim. Porrim giggles and replies “Nice to+ see yo+ure awake too.” Cronus looks at her weirdly. “wvhats so funny” he asks. “O+h, no+thing, just your reaction+n and yo+ur eyes.” “wvhats wvrong wvith my eyes” “Fo+r starters… O+ne, yo+u have eyebags and two+, yo+ur eyes are white” “wvell yours are too”. Porrim’s eyes widen. Are they really white?Why are they white? Am I dead? She thinks and asks herself. She then remembers Meenah dropping that bomb, killing her and all of them. Cronus looks at Porrim and says to him ”wvere dead, arent wve?” Cronus looks away from Porrim before replying “That’s no+t impo+rtant no+w. What we might need to+ fo+cus o+n is wvhat are we go+ing to+ do+ no+w?” Cronus looks down. “I see…. perhaps wve should look for the others” “That’s a great idea. Altho+ugh, we might need to+ tell them where we should meet” “i don’t know but maybe wvhoevwer wve run into first can decide” “I do+ubt all of them wo+uld agree to+ the same place. ” “good point…” “Lets just get mo+ving til we find so+meo+ne” “wvait, porrim” “Yes?” “wvill you stay wvith me til wve do find someone?” Porrim smiles and nods “O+f co+urse I will.” Cronus too then smiles and clings to Porrim’s arm “thanks chief” Porrim and Cronus then begin walking, on their way to find someone, perhaps Kankri as Porrim wants. But til then, let’s just assume they’re enjoying the company of each other. | 7e346ff9d91140fb8894b70cfb22eab7 | ['b6e1e23a17844aae897d27bbf0ad49ed'] |
1. Chapter 1
One fine and rainy night, two trolls were walking around. A young girl and a boy troll with one of a blood of royalty and the other slavery. The girl’s name was Feferi and the boy’s Sollux. They were happy together. They continued until suddenly, they noticed a rather huge ship nearby. It was red and seemed to have a fork in front. They were astonished to see it at first until finally, their young curious
“w)(at is t)(at t)(ing? 38?” Feferi asked. Sollux looked at it curiously and shrugged. They have never seen anything like it before. “maybe we s)(ould take a hook inside 38)” Feferi suddenly suggested. Sollux looked at her like she was somewhat out of her mind. There was something off about the ship that made him feel it were wrong. “maybee iit2 not a very good iidea two just randomly barge iin” he replied. Feferi pouted at him. “clam on sol its not going to be soooo bad pike t)(e time –Eri tried to get you in his black quadrant and failed miserably” “ii gue22 not….but ii 2tiill thiink we 2houldnt….plu2 iit2 2tiill funny how he 2tiill triie2” “yay! 38D”
The two entered the ship. Sollux held Feferi’s hand tightly and defensively. He didn’t trust this place at all. A light was seen from a distance. It was red and blue. Some laughing and giggling could be heard from where they are. “w)(o is making those so--” Sollux covered Feferi’s mouth and whispered to her ”told you were bargiing iin, come on, let2 go now”. Suddenly, they realized the laughing had stopped. Could it be that the people heard them or maybe know they’re there? Sollux grabbed Feferi and ran for the door but they were stopped. They were trapped in some sort of fishnet and were knocked out by some sort of gas. They were dragged by some strange invisible force to the room where the laughing and giggling were heard from.
The two finally woke up to see they were no longer in the net. They were not tied like Sollux had thought might happen. Instead, they were just there laying down on the ground. They got up and looked around then noticed they stood before a red throne where another sea dweller girl sat. It seemed like both Feferi and that woman had the same blood and symbol. They turned around and saw another troll. A boy. He also had a common blood and symbol with Sollux. They gasped in surprise. ‘There is no way this is possible, is there?’ they asked themselves. Unless if those were actually their ancestors. ‘They’re alive?!’.
They exchanged confused looks at one another until finally Feferi looked at the adult female sea dweller troll. “w)(o are you two” she asked. “my dear, I am her imperious condescension. behind you two is my amazing helmsman and matesprit, the psiioniic” “the p2iioniic??” “yep. aint dat right, sweetie~?” “Y34H.”. Feferi was very surprised. She looked at Sollux who seemed to be more surprised than she was. He did have an ancestor this whole time and he never knew. He thought he were just one of those trolls whom had no ancestor.
2. Is it the end?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Feferi and Sollux have woken up from newly getting knocked out before the Condesce and the Psiioniic and three random trolls enter and offer to fix the ship only to try and destroy the Condesce.
The Psiioniic smiled at the two “50 Y0U 7W0 4R3 M4735PR175 7W0?” he asked. Feferi nodded and replied “yea)( sollux is a R-E-----ELLY nice matesprit 38)” “aint dat adorable. Theyre just pike us, right tunafish?” “7H3Y M4K3 4N 4D0R48L3 C0UPL3”. Sollux looked at them confused. “ju2t liike both of you? you two are mate2priit2?” “we shore are. its been dis way for thousands of sweeps” “thou2and2?!” Sollux blurted out. He had never imagined this. Not ever.
“2o iif iit2 okay wiith you, can we leave now?” he asked. Feferi looked to Sollux “already? But--” Feferi’s sentence was cut short by what the condesce was to say. “leave? No way to shell buoy”. “and why not” Sollux asked. He squinted at her in distrust. He thought it were finally time to go, judging by how she was grinning nightmarishly at them. “clam on sol don’t be suc)( a guppy, s)(es probably just joking around” Feferi said to him.
Suddenly, they heard a knock on the entrance. The Condesce signaled to let them in and so three trolls, an indigo blood, a violet blood and teal blood walked in. They looked as thought they were close to adulthood about 9-11 sweeps or so. “~greetings, empress~” said the teal blood. “hello what business do you have here” the Condesce asked. “It Is A Pleasure To )(ave Y()u wit)( Us ()nce Again” replied to violet blood. “we HAVE come TO offer YOU our SERVICES for YOUR ship SEEMS to BE a BIT broken DOWN” said the indigo blood. “very whale. The repairs are needed in da engine” the Condesce said. The three trolls nodded and headed off for the engine.
The Condesce turned her attention back to Sollux and Feferi. “anyways water we talkin aboat again? Ah yes” “you were glubbing stuff aboat leaving and stuff pike t)(at” Feferi replied to her smiling. The Condesce held back her laughter. It seemed as though Feferi were a fool to this. Sollux sneakily reached for Feferi’s hand until he reached it and he made a run for the door. “SOLLUX WAIT PL-EASE” Feferi said in surprise. She didn’t want to leave just yet. The Condesce frowned and caught them with the same net as earlier. “OH HELL NO” Sollux shouted as he blasted a hole into the net. They finally reached the door until suddenly right as Sollux managed to exit, bars dropped down and trapped Feferi in. “feferii!!” Sollux couldn’t possibly destroy the bars to get Feferi out.
“you fools, ders no getting out together. Its either you leave and be free or stay with dis gill til da end a yo days” The Condesce said to them. Feferi’s eyes widened in disbelief though she did have a feeling this would happen. Suddenly, The three trolls from earlier who offered to fix the ship were behind them. The teal blood and Indigo blood’s hands were covered in golden blood like Sollux’s. The Condesce noticed first. ”did you just…..O)( S)(ELL NAW >38(” she yelled. She knew that they have killed the Psiioniic. “ILL KRILL YOU FOR DAT” “actually, YOUR ‘highness’…..” said the Indigo blood, “We Are T() Die Toget)(er…..” the violet blood finished, holding up a button.
3. The end??
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Feferi is dead and Sollux nearly drowns but is luckily saved by non other than mister ERIDAN Ampora.
The Condesce smiled. “you reelly think youre going to krill me? hah fools”. Meanwhile, as the Condesce was distracted, the attached her trident to the back of Sollux’s shirt and threw it off to the water near the shore. Sollux was dragged along with the trident. Guess Feferi is really that strong. Sollux screamed. He knew what was to happen and didn’t want it to happen plus he had no idea how to swim. Feferi sighed and murmured “im shorey sollux…..gl’bgloyb……”. She turned around and saw the Condesce was fighting the three trolls. She quickly grabbed the remote and pressed the button on it. ‘3….2…..1…self destruct initiated’ and with that, the ship blew up, taking along the lives of the three trolls, Feferi and most of all the Condesce.
Meanwhile, Sollux paddled and paddled to try and stay up. He saw the ship explode and his heart sank. Feferi is dead and he could no longer to anything about it. He slowly began to sink in the water until a familiar figure dove in and grabbed him. He looked at the figure and fell unconscious. Moments after, he woke up to see Eridan there trying to do CPR on him. Sollux’s eyes widened and he flailed, getting up quickly. “WHAT THE FUCK, AMPORA?!?!” “wwhat? I thought you wwere dead. Be fuckin happy I didn’t let you be dead” “….” Eridan got up, dusting himself off. “why…diid you 2ave me” Sollux asked. “that’s…..uh…classified” Eridan said in reply to him, looking away. “no iit2 not now can you plea2e tell me. ii thought you hated me” “mmf…” “well??” “its cause…I guess its cause it aint fun havvin you dead” “and?” “wwhat do you mean ‘and’? theres nothin else”. Sollux chuckled a bit until finally he laughed. He laughed for a short while until he just smiled at Eridan.
“wwhats so funny?” Eridan asked, squinting at Sollux. “oh ED youre 2uch a terrible liiar” Sollux replied to him, going closer to him. “wwhatevver….so wwheres fef” “uhm……” Sollux looked away sadly. Eridan’s fins drooped down. “wwell? dont tell me something bad happened to her”. Sollux shook his head. “actually….2he2 dead…..” “DEAD?!” “yeah….2he diied two protect u2”. Eridan fell to his knees and began to cry.
Sollux papped Eridan, kneeling next to him. Eridan hugged Sollux tightly. What was this feeling Sollux was feeling? Was it hate? Fluster? Sollux didn’t know how he felt over it and just decided to hug Eridan back. Eridan’s eyes widened and he pushed Sollux away a bit. Sollux looked at Eridan and Eridan looked at him as well. Sollux got up and turned to leave. “ii gue22 ii need two bee going now. wouldnt want two bother you 2iince by that ii thiink that was a siign of dii2mii2al” he said and began walking away.
Eridan quickly got up and grabbed Sollux’s hand. “wwait….dont leavve me…” he said to Sollux, looking down. Sollux began to plush a light tint of yellow. Eridan, though, seemed to be blushing intensely. He pulled Sollux closer to him and into a long kiss. Sollux’s eyes widened in surprise and he was going to pull back but instead, he returned the kiss. Eridan noticed and blushed even more. It felt like the kiss was to last forever until finally Eridan slowly pulled back and whispered softly into Sollux’s ear “wwill you be my matesprit…..” Sollux let out a small gasp and replied “ye2…iid love two……” and sealed it off with another and more passionate kiss. The two smiled at one another. It felt like it could be the start of a new and wonderful matespritship. |
28a61181bbaf483ebb3b427e6674f2df | ['b6ef46ff2dbc407f95bf626a8126c17d'] |
Holy Shit We're Parents
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sorry this took so long! Hope you enjoy!
> It's longer than the others but I really like it and I hope you do too!
Ian and Mickey are fast asleep, a pile of limbs intertwined in their shared queen sized bed. Suddenly, Ian’s ringtone loudly fills the room. They both groan at the interruption of sleep but Ian rolls over to answer it. He checks the caller ID and sees that it’s Lip.
“Hello?” he answers with a groggy voice.
“Ian! Mandy’s water broke, she’s in labor! Meet us at the hospital."
“Oh my god. Ok we’ll be right there.” They both hang up without another word. Ian jumps out of the bed and starts to get dressed. “Mick! Get up! Mandy’s in labor! We have to go to the hospital.”
“Holy fuck!” Mickey says into his pillow but gets out of bed anyway. He pulls on the first clothes he finds, pulls on his shoes and looks over at Ian. Ian is standing there with his goofy smile on his face. Mickey just walks over and kisses him. With their foreheads still touching, Mickey says to him “Let’s go meet our kids.” Ian smiles, kisses him again and leaves their bedroom.
Mickey grabs the keys to the SUV they bought off the dresser, Ian grabs the two baby carriers to bring the babies home and they head out the door.
They arrive at the hospital and the rest of the Gallagher clan is already there. Fiona ran over and hugged them both and pointed them in the direction of Mandy’s room. They run in to see a very stressed and unhappy Mandy with a frazzled Lip standing beside her. Lip gives a huge sigh of relief to see her brother and his brother walk in.
“Thank God! What took you so long?” Lip asks.
“We couldn’t find parking! Mickey had to threaten some dude on crutches for the spot we got!”
“Hi Mands. How ya doing?” Mickey says, moving around the Gallagher boys to see his sister.
“Well, I’ve been better.” She says, breathing through her pain. Mickey rubs her back and Ian smiles at the show of affection that Mickey shows towards his sister. Ian turns to Lip, who seems much calmer.
“How far along is she? Have you see the doctor yet?”
“Yea, they said she’s about 7 centimeters dilated but that was about 20 minutes ago, so she’s probably farther along than that. I should go find the doctor.” Lip says, leaving the room. Ian turns to Mickey and Mandy. He’s holding her hand while she has a contraction, rubbing small circles on her back, watching the monitor for the end of it. Ian steps behind him, putting his hand on Mickeys shoulder. Mickey looks up and smiles at him before turning his attention back to Mandy.
“Mands? You want me to get you some ice chips?” Ian asks.
“Yea. That’d be great thanks, Ian” she says between breaths.
“Sure thing” he says with a smile. He tapped Mickey on the shoulder and asks “You want anything?”
“Nah, man, I’m good thanks” Ian gives them another smile and leaves the room just as Lip and the doctor came back into the room.
“Alright, Mandy, let’s see how you’re doing” says the doctor. “Looks like you’re almost ready to push!” Mandy just sort of nodded, growing more and more nervous. Mickey suddenly got a really scared look on his face. His eyes grew wide and hi jaw dropped slightly. HE was starting to panic about how real this was becoming.
Just then Ian comes back in with a cup of ice chips. He looks over to Mickey, still with the crazy look on his face.
“What’s going on?” He asks, handing the ice chips to Lip who feeds some to Mandy.
“It’s almost time to push, Ian!” Mickey practically yells. “Can I talk to you outside, please?” Ian shoots a look at Mandy and she nods, realizing something’s up with Mickey too. He pats Lip on the shoulder and walks out of the room behind Mickey, who starts pacing with his hands on his hips.
“Hey, you alright?”
“No, I’m not fucking alright! We’re about to be parents! With 2 babies, Ian! 2!”
“Hey” Ian says, pulling the panicked Mickey into a hug. “We are going to be great parents, ok? Take a deep breath, we have to be strong, for Mandy and our kids” Mickey takes a few deep breathes and nods. “You ok?” Mickey nods again, afraid that if he opens his mouth he might scream. Ian chuckles and kisses him on the top of the head, takes his hand and leads him back into the room.
As they walked back into the room, the doctors and nurses were getting ready for Mandy to push. Ian shot Mickey a look but he walked right over to Mandy, held her hand, and kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him and he smiled at her, stroking her hair. Ian smiles, knowing that Mickey could do it for his sister.
“Alright Mandy, are you ready?” asks the doctor.
“As I’ll ever be” she says, grumpily.
An hour later, Mia Fiona and Aidan Philip were born, with Mia 5 minutes older than Aidan. Mandy did an amazing job, with Mickey and Ian holding her hands while Lip ran back and forth between the delivery room and the waiting room keeping the rest of the Gallaghers informed on how everything was going. Now, Mandy was in bed, recovering, with Lip laying in bed beside her. Ian was holding Mia and Mickey had Aidan with the rest of the Gallaghers gathering around congratulation everyone and cooing at their new niece and nephew.
The next day, Ian and Mickey could bring them home. They thanked Mandy 100 more times and strapped the babies in their car, Mickey driving and Ian sitting in the back between the two, making sure they made it home okay.
When they arrive home, they bring them inside and put them in their respective pink and blue colored cribs. As Mickey and Ian stand over their kids, watching them sleep, Mickey turns to Ian and puts his arms around the taller man’s waist and smiles.
“Holy shit we’re parents” he says in disbelief.
“Yea we are” Ian agrees “And we’re gonna be fucking good at it.”
**Author's Note:**
> So whatcha think? Leave comments, Kudos and/or write me on tumblr! | 8213e6a55acf4c809c66fb092515e341 | ['b6ef46ff2dbc407f95bf626a8126c17d'] | Introducing the Newest Member of the Gallagher-Milkovich Family…
**Author's Note:**
> Another short one but I think this is so cute
Luckily for everyone involved, Mandy gets pregnant on the first try. Mickey was going to punch a fucking wall if Ian had to fuck her more than once. Just the thought of his sister and his- Ian- together made his skin crawl.
When she is about 14 weeks along, Mandy, Ian and Mickey go to the doctors for an ultrasound. Mandy is starting to show a little bit of a baby bump and has a cute little pregnant glow.
Ian stands next to Mandy like the proud Daddy he is, while Mickey stands behind them. He is excited, really he is, but the whole situation is still really fucking weird for him so he just stands in the back and keeps quiet.
As the doctor does the ultrasound, all three sets of their eyes are glued to the screen. Suddenly the image becomes clear and they just stare at it in disbelief.
“Congratulations!” says the doctor, breaking the silence “looks like its twins!”
“Holy shit” all three of them says in unison.
“There’s fucking two!?” Mickey says as he hits Ian on the arm, turning towards him. Ian finally breaks his stare from the screen to look at Mickey. Ian has his big, dopey grin on his face while Mickey’s is slightly more terrified.
“I’m gonna be fucking huge!” Mandy says. Ian laughs and kisses her on the top of the head. Mickey rubs his hands over his face and all three of them stare back at the screen. Fucking twins.
Four weeks later and Mandy has another doctor’s appointment and they find out the babies’ genders. They have a boy and a girl! That night, Mickey and Ian are laying in bed, too excited to sleep, trying to come up with names.
“I’ve always liked the named Nicole” Ian says, “And then we can call her Nikki”
“Are you fucking serious? You want a Mickey and a Nikki running around this house? You know how fucking confusing that would be?” Ian laughs, not realizing the connection, and then they both laugh, thinking about how crazy that would be.
“Well why don’t we do this? One Irish name to go along with my side of the family and a name that starts with “M” for yours?”
“Alright Gallagher, I like it. What Irish names you got in mind?”
“Well I like Aidan for a boy and Brigid for a girl. What about you? What are your “M” names?”
“I like Monica or Matthew.” Mickey replies, after thinking for a second.
“No! No fucking Monica. That bitch doesn’t deserve it!”
“Oh fuck I forgot. Ok how about Mia?”
“Oh I like Mia! How about Aidan and Mia?” Ian asks, excitedly.
“Yea I like it!” Mickey says with a smile.
“What about middle names?”
“What about your siblings?” Mickey says, trying to sound casual. He knows it would mean a lot to them and to Ian.
“Are you sure?!” Ian asks, with teary eyes.
“Yea, man. They have been more of a family to me than mine ever was, except Mands of course. Besides, ‘Mia Mandy’ just sounds weird.” Ian leans over a plants a kiss on Mickey’s lips. It’s short and sweet and Ian’s own way of saying thank you.
“Okay so how about ‘Aidan Philip’ and ‘Mia Fiona’” Ian says. “If I make Debs a Godmother she’ll let it slide and Mandy can be the other Godmother. Who do we trust enough to be Godfathers?”
“Not your pyromaniac brother that’s for damn sure”
“Yea, as much as I love Carl, I don’t trust him with our kids.”
“What about Kev? He’s always helped us out and he hasn’t fucked up his three kids”
“I’m sure he’ll love that! But we still need one more.”
“We might as well use Lip. He took good care of Liam when Fiona went fucking drug crazy. We can match up him and Mandy for one kid and then Kev and Debbie with the other.”
“Sounds perfect” Ian agrees. They lay there in a comfortable silence, thinking of their future, their kids, godparents and all that comes with their parenting as they slowly drift off to sleep.
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you liked it! Post comments, leave kudos and feel free to send asks at shamelessly-in-love.tumblr.com!!! |
4c3648ed759d4037a2b11a3f9a542d47 | ['b6f8e54c882f4cd18eaff512516c8ed9'] | Marv's first love
**Author's Note:**
> Spoilers: Vague spoilers for Sin City, vague spoilers for “Fools for love” in season 5.
> Disclaimer: None of this character are mine, Nikki Wood belongs to Joss Whedon and Marv and Goldie belong to Frank Miller.
> Notes: This is a FFA fic for TtH. The pairing is Marv and Spike's coat. You can also find it in http://www.tthfanfic.com/Story-14756/irialonso+Marv+s+first+love.htm and at my LJ.
Marv remembers her, remembers the woman he loved before Goldie. She was like one of the panthers he saw in Vietnam, black, dangerous, lethal but incredibly alluring, something that you knew you had to stay away but that you couldn’t stop watching.
He saw her was in an alley in New York in the 1970s, she was fighting a group of vampires, she fighted in a way that he hadn’t seen ever, it was like a deathly dance, she punched, kicked, dodged, rolled and staked them all, it was the most beautiful thing he have ever seen.
Then she finished and turned and for a moment their eyes were locked. After this all is a blur, he has images of her fucking him in the alley, after smoky images of the two nearly shagging in a club, after some images in a motel room doing it all the night.
But he remembers this, how he got up and saw her at his side sleeping. How he tiptoed through the room and began to dress himself and how he left his trench leather coat to keep her warm and how he got out for good.
**Author's Note:**
> That was my first fanfic, I did it four years ago and I'm pretty proud of it. Also one of the questions I've been asked about this fic is if Marv is Robin's father. For me the father of Robin it's always been in my mind Nikki's watcher but if you prefer to think it's Marv I don't have any problem with it.
> Also feedback is appreciated. | 7114adb5283942598c5dd1a2c8cc0845 | ['b6f8e54c882f4cd18eaff512516c8ed9'] | Gryffindor's Room
**Author's Note:**
> Spoilers: Vague spoilers of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
> Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine they all belong to JK Rowling
> Notes: This is a fic I did for a friend’s birthday. It’s weird, its slash and Dean is in sixth year.
The ochre room was in the Sixth's Floor East wing and to enter it you had to say to a suit of armor the Hogwarts motto. When you entered the first thing that was seen, was a really large maroon leather couch that once you proved it was really comfy. In the wall just above the couch was a really big Gryffindor coat of arms with two long battle-axes crossed below. In the other walls you found several paintings of magical beasts like griffins, dragons and centaurs that where predominantly painted with yellows, reds and maroons. There was also in front of the couch a painting of an armoury normally with no one.
Dean had known of the room since his fourth year. When the twins had told him that the couch was great for wanking, and bringing girls to snog. Although he had come always alone, this year he had brought Ginny with him. She loved the room, and between snogging sessions she always was looking at the paintings and the coat of arms. But it was just after he and Ginny had ended that he got to know the inhabitant of this room.
You didn’t have to be a genius to realise that a Gryffindor had done the room. But even then it had been a really big surprise when after ending his relationship with Ginny that he got a near heart failure when in the middle of a wank a man with penetrating green eyes, red hair and beard, dressed like a knight of medieval times entered in the armoury’s painting. When he realised who he was he got even more nervous.
But nearly all of that was forgotten when the Hogwarts founder with a deep and husky voice started giving him instructions for his wank. Telling him to go faster, harder, slower with the occupied hand and asking him to use his free hand to put his fingers in his butt hole. The orgasm he got was so intense that he fainted and when he waked up Gryffindor was watching him with a wolfed smile. He then went out of the portrait winking and telling him he hoped there would be a next time.
**Author's Note:**
> Ok, this is a bit strange but a while ago I looked in the Harry Potter Wiki if there was a Southeast Tower in Hogwarts and I was surprised when I realised that there wasn't one. But there is an East Wing in the sixth floor with portraits and various suits of armor that has the entrance of a room were the Weasley twins hid the Marauder's Map once, and that seemed a good place to situate the room so I changed it. |
ee14862f38f34deb9b09c627013e17d3 | ['b6fa424e66394144a5f76457094d2dac'] | “I can do it.” Indeed, Namjoon sits up quite well. Not without pain or with ease, but he does sit up without Jimin’s help. It’s a miracle. As he gets up, Jimin’s jacket falls on the ground. “What is it?” Namjoon looks back at Jimin. “Fuck, that’s your jacket. Aren’t you cold?”
“No.” Jimin touches his cheek. It’s not freezing anymore. “I’m not.”
“Weird,” Namjoon says and grabs Jimin’s hand. His fingers feel like ice on Jimin’s skin. “It’s warm.”
“I’m hot-blooded.” Namjoon’s touch got uncomfortable too quickly. Jimin should feel cold, but it’s not important. Just don’t let Namjoon think too much. “We should get you back at the base and find Jungkook.”
“Yeah, let’s not wait. While the sun is up.” Jimin helps Namjoon to stand up. Namjoon’s weak, barely standing straight, but he is standing. The wound was much worse than how it seems now, but when Jimin wishes to check, Namjoon dismisses his attempt to take a look. “Jungkook is much more important.”
“It’s not going to take too much time,” Jimin tries but Namjoon just waves his hand.
“Hurry up.”
So Jimin throws Namjoon’s arm around his neck to support him. Namjoon leans on him with quite a lot of weight; after all, he must be hurting a lot. As they almost exit the house, Namjoon points out, “You left your jacket.”
Indeed, when Jimin turns around, there it is; his jacket dirty from blood is lying on the ground. He leaves Namjoon stand by the door and support himself for a moment to pick it up. The sleeves have stiffened since the night; the blood has dried down.
“Wait a minute,” Namjoon speaks out as Jimin’s dressing up. “What’s that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That thing.” Namjoon is like a hawk watching Jimin, his eyes squinting and chin protruded. He points at Jimin’s cheek. “The scratch.”
“Oh.” Jimin touches his face. He feels a scab across his right cheek. He takes a deep breath in. “It’s nothing, Namjoon. Nothing.”
“It looks like claw marks. Jimin, if you got -”
“I did not,” Jimin almost yells. He runs his fingers through his hair. “I swear, Namjoon. Nothing like that.”
Namjoon relaxes; not too much, but he seems to be calmer. “But you would tell me, right? You would,” he says in distressed tone.
“Of course,” Jimin reassures him. A memory of the last night comes to his mind. No way. “Let’s go.” Jimin throws Namjoon’s arm around his shoulder once again. It’s still difficult to walk for Namjoon, but they manage to get out from the house. The trees, the grass, everything around seems to be untouched and peaceful. And maybe it is, at least before the night comes.
They go quietly, Namjoon trying his best and Jimin carrying half of Namjoon’s weight, until Namjoon speaks out, “You know, I had a weird dream. I thought that… that I was together with Taehyung again. Isn’t it crazy? Sometimes I think I’m going crazy.” Namjoon bitterly laughs. “I must be.”
Jimin gulps. Namjoon’s arm feels heavier on his shoulder. “You’re not going crazy, Namjoon,” Jimin says quietly. “You’re being in love. There’s nothing bad about it.”
Namjoon smiles. “You’re always so nice, Jimin. You make me feel better about myself.”
“I’m trying my best,” Jimin says and he means it. He always does.
“You remind me a lot of Taehyung.” It’s said tenderly but it still hurts. “You were friends. You’re similar.”
“Yeah.”
“When you’re with me, it feels like he’s still here.”
Jimin nods. “We should stay together, then.” After all, he’s always going to stay in Taehyung’s shadow anyway.
**Author's Note:**
> Who knows what is going to be next. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
>
> Thank you for reading!
>
> Even though this song did not inspire me to write Heart Shadow, its title (and more) was created thanks to Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine!! Give it a listen! It surprisingly fits the fic well!
>
>
>
> Hit the kudos and subscribe button! | 594e3aee6b0c4ad28a53953cde809f4a | ['b6fa424e66394144a5f76457094d2dac'] | “Yes.” Namjoon gulps and immediately releases Yoongi. He looks flustered, but before Namjoon can get worried, Yoongi grins.
“Alright,” he softly laughs. “I guess that I won’t turn into a frog today.”
“Y-Yeah.”
Yoongi searches for something in Namjoon’s eyes. “I don’t want to turn into a frog tomorrow either.”
“What,” Namjoon mumbles, “are you talking about?”
Yoongi sighs and grabs Namjoon’s uncomfortably sweating hand. “I’m saying I don’t want to turn into a frog tomorrow, nor the day after. I want you to keep kissing me, Namjoon.” He tilts his head. “Do you want to be my awkward wizard boyfriend?”
Namjoon frees his hand and mindlessly points at himself. “Me?”
Yoongi, grinning, shakes his head in obvious disbelief. “So awkward. Well?” He looks expectantly at Namjoon and says, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
The sudden proposal shocks Namjoon so much that he freezes on the spot. Only after Yoongi waves his hand before Namjoon’s eyes, he can respond, “Y-Yeah.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “You don’t want?”
“No, it’s not like that! I want to be your boyfriend,” Namjoon blurts out.
“Awkward wizard boyfriend,” Yoongi corrects him.
“Awkward wizard boyfriend,” Namjoon repeats a little bit unhappily.
“Alright,” Yoongi smiles, “that’s good.” He takes Namjoon’s hand in his and strokes it gently. Namjoon would lie if he would try to deny that his heart started racing. After few seconds though, Yoongi stops and importantly says, “But never let Hoseok touch the beer again.”
Damn, the spell could bring him a boyfriend, but Namjoon will make sure that Hoseok never gets his hand on any beverages again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ |
6a7f5b6a784b4729a77cfa821664570b | ['b71fd313ccf9488abc6365929c8da4c2'] | Lighthouse
**Author's Note:**
> I daydreamed this and I did my best to translate it into text. Hope you enjoy this very short idea.
Update: Will try and make a sequel once school work passes over very soon. :)
Ryan stumbled out of the tall, spiraling tower, breath heavy and erratic, eyes darting from one thing to another. All eyes were on him, the small crew along with Shane who stood as his friend poured out from the old door. Ryan stood there, shaking as he was asked questions about what happened and gave answers the best he could, barely able to breathe. Shane, from beside him, grabbed and turned off the spirit box, which was still fuzzing loudly in his hands.
"Ryan, you okay?" Shane finally asked, suddenly standing directly in front of him, turning his head down to look at his wondering face.
"Yeah, no. I don't know. I think I blacked out." Ryan crouched to the ground, trying to let out a laugh. Shane pursed his lips, shrinking to his level. "Okay, okay. Well, let's get this gear off of you, yeah?" Ryan's shakey hands fumbled with the camera on his chest. Shane helped him shed the cameras with a concerned gaze. "Can someone grab water and my jacket, please?" Shane asked to no one in particular, gazing up at the surrounding worried faces. People shifted into action, looking and moving towards the nearby cars.
Shane pushed Ryan's hair from his face, the strands damp with sweat. A plastic water bottle along with a light grey jacket was offered beside him. With a thankful smile, he took them with one hand and braced Ryan as they stood with the other.
"Hey, let's go for a walk. Get away from here for a while. We won't go far, just down the path a bit. Clear your head, calm down." Shane suggested, his tone soft and light. Ryan just gave a small nod, eyes glazed over. Shane's hand remained on Ryan's shoulder, guiding him along a small gravel path. They walked in silence, the only sounds audible were the crunching gravel under their matching boots and the churning waves until a small wooden bench came into view. "Wanna sit for a bit?" Shane proposed, voice warm and concerned. Ryan, again, just gave a small nod. As they sat, Shane slowly rubbed circles onto Ryan's back, soothing his shaky breaths. The jacket and water bottle placed on Shane's lap.
Slowly, Ryan began to choke up. Body jolting slightly at each sob. Hands covered his face in embarrassment, trying to muffle himself. "Hey, hey. It's okay. It's alright. Let it out. It's okay. You're alright." Shane continued to rub his back, his other hand gently grasping his arm. "It's all over now. Nothing's here. You're safe. I'm here. I've got yah. You're okay." Shane's voice was soft and low.
As Ryan's breathing started to calm down, Shane spoke up. "Look at the stars. How bright they are." He pointed above them. Ryan sniffled and followed his friend's gaze up, letting out a soft sigh and dropping his hands to his lap. The stars above twinkled, stark white against the dark backdrop of the sky. "And how bright the ocean is in their light. Listen to the waves hit the shore, against the rocks." Their eyes fell back down again, to the glimmering water before them. Ryan gave a tired, half-smile. "See? Look. It's all okay."
Shane fumbled with the items on him. "Here, drink some water." Shane handed the bottle over and watched as he took a drink, hands still shaking. The muggy Flordia air clung to their skin and clothing. Shane took his bunched jacket and wiped sweat and tears from his face in small movements, careful not to hit his eyes. Ryan shivered, despite the temperature. Shane spread the jacket across his shoulders, making sure it covered his arms. Ryan's fingers clung to the front, closing it around himself.
"We should get back." Ryan croaked, glancing over to Shane.
"Do you want to?" He was perfectly content on staying here as long as he needed to. Ryan nodded as he started to stand. "Okay, we'll load up and take off."
Ryan and Shane sat in the back of the car, two of the crew in the front as the radio created a quiet white noise. Ryan began to doze off, tired from the emotional scene as well as the late time of night. His heavy head laid gently upon Shane's shoulder, face relaxed and free of the night's stress.
The driver glanced in their review mirror, making eye contact with Shane. Shane's eyes dared them to say or think anything of it. The driver gave a soft look, making Shane relax and look back down towards Ryan. He carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close. His hand laid lightly on his jacket across Ryan's arm. Ryan shifted in his sleep, adjusting and leaning closer. Shane gave a soft smile and gazed out the window, watching the shadowed landscape pass by. | 58c00c815c364a62bbde96a35d8a4591 | ['b71fd313ccf9488abc6365929c8da4c2'] |
BFU/GO Mashup of Mistakes
**Author's Note:**
> I added quite a bit to this chapter and patched it up a bit. :)
It's a sunny, peaceful day at Aziraphale's book shop. Aziraphale is out fetching food for the two. Crowley is towards the back of the shop, glancing at each book, although he never lets anyone see him skimming. Something was suddenly very off. The chime of the door goes off.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Crowley whispers hoarsely as he dips fully out of sight, not feeling in the friendly customer mood.
"I don't know about this, Shane. I don't like the feel of this place." A low voice utters.
"Oh, it's fine. You're just worked up after filming." The other speaks with great confidence and comfort.
"If we die, I blame you," The first voice jokes. A duet of chuckles erupts, the sound moving to the left of the shop.
"Look at some of the stuff they have here, Shane. It's kinda weird," The shuffling of books molds with shuffling feet.
"Haha, I think you'll like this one, Ryan. It has a little demon on the front." More chucking with a huff follows. "No? Oh, come on! I'm getting it for you. Maybe it will protect you when you have ghouls at your door,"
The sound of the book sliding back onto the shelf identifies a change in heart. "I have actually found something to get. It's kinda old, but looks interesting enough." Crowley balances his chances of escape. "That is if we can find someone to check it out."
They keep creeping closer, now with one on each side. The back and front doors covered from his vulnerable position.
While contemplating shaping into a snake to hopefully sneak away, he's spotted. A shorter, tan man approaches him with a wide smile. "Hi, um, do you work here? I was hoping to buy something,"
"Oh, well, ac-" He is cut off when the other rounds into view, making him gulp. His tall, lanky, innocent figure coats the terror beneath. He had felt his presence, but it became alarmingly clear of who he is within this proximity.
"Ac-actually, I don't work here, but my friend does. He should be gone for a while, I'm just looking after the place."
The taller man smiles thinly. "Oh, like the one stalling at the door?"
Crowley was hoping he hadn't noticed him there.
"Well, I'd like to meet him, if that would be alright. I want to talk about the wonderful books he has collected." It is posed as a proposal, but Crowley knows better.
"Come on in, angel!" He shouts toward the front. A tentative Aziraphale enters and goes straight to Crowley's side, a bag of food in hand. Ryan is growing more confused as each event unrolls.
"Oh, Crowley, ah-" Aziraphale grabs his sleeve lightly with wide eyes, overcome with the energy in the area. Crowley grabs the food from his hand and places in on the nearby shelf.
"My friend here would like to buy a book," Shane states plainly as he stands straight and confident, looking down on the two in front of him.
"Of-of course!" Aziraphale manages, forcing a smile and starts quickly towards the register. Nobody has managed to check anything out since a very convincing, handsome man visited several centuries back.
"How much is it?" Shane asks, pulling out his wallet. "No, wait, I got it," Ryan intercepts.
"Oh, come on. Let me treat my friend. Besides, you covered breakfast,"
Ryan lets a small smile slip. "Fine. Thank you." He puts his wallet back and turns back to the posh man.
"Oh, um, it's limited edition-" Aziraphale started. Shane's eyes bore into him.
"-But we're having a big sale! So that will only be €12," Crowley finishes, smiling. Aziraphale catches on. "Oh! That's right, dear. A free bookmark comes with every purchase as-as well,"
"What an angel you are," Shane quips, causing Aziraphale gulp. "Didn't I see a sign saying that, for just today, it's buy one, get one free?" Shane continues, pushing them. Aziraphale clenches his jaw and bites his tongue, simply nodding.
"Hear that, Ryan? Go back and find something else you like," Shane turns to Ryan with a large grin. After an encouraging nod from both Shane and Aziraphale, he heads back, a small spring in his step.
"So how did this end up happening, huh?" Shane waves a finger between the two of them. Their uncomfortable shifting, head-scratching, and opened ended 'umm's makes Shane chuckle. He gives a dismissing hand wave. "I'm just messing with you guys. I don't give a shit. It's cute, actually. I mean, Hell, I'm best friends with a human,"
"Point taken," Crowley smirks as Ryan comes back with a small, red-covered book. He places it on top of the other one, moving the bookmark to sit above both. Shane pays the price and Aziraphale bags the items, handing it to Ryan.
"Cheers!" Aziraphale chimes as the pair leave, Crowley giving a small wave. They disappear around the corner and the weight lifts from the air. Aziraphale flips the sign on the door to close the shop, much to the dismay of a woman who had her mind set on entering.
"Enough for the day?" Crowley muses as he follows Aziraphale to the back, picking up the bag of food on his way.
Aziraphale throws himself on one end of the plush couch and starts to massage his temples. Crowley sets the bag on the side table, taking the contents out and placing them on top of the plastic.
The silence is comfortable, familiar. Crowley sits sideways on the other end of the couch, legs thrown over the arm and head on the angel's legs.
Aziraphale smiles at the position and combs his fingers through their hair slowly, earning a content sigh. Carefully, Aziraphale pulls the small, black sunglasses off the demon and sets them aside. Crowley scrunches his nose but says nothing as he grudgingly opens his uncovered eyes.
"So beautiful," Aziraphale wants to say, but the way he looks down at him tells Crowley plenty.
Crowley hums and sticks his slim hand up, holding it above him. With his free hand, Aziraphale gently entangles their fingers and lets their hands fall to land on the demon's chest. The two bask in the soft, distant sound of traffic and their own breathing.
**Author's Note:**
> I would love feedback to let me know how fast I should continue this. |
56f0d95c2953488aa7946a5e90f9fa48 | ['b731b9455093444ca593a14b0e7f960d'] | Just Details (a post 4x15 ficlet)
They broke apart and Emma stared him in the face, eyes stained with tears. “But how can you be sure it’s me?”
Hook pulled her close once more, their foreheads pressed gently together. “When are you finally going to trust me?” he whispered with heavy smirk. “I’ve been around for over 300 years. It’s you. Trust me.”
Emma’s hands gripped his collar tightly, “I thought it was more like 200?” A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth.
Hook chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Aye. Give or take.”
She curled her arms up around his neck, finally letting herself fully smile for a moment. “I know I came here to bring back the happy endings,” her voice wavered, but she looked him intently in the eyes, “But I never thought I could be one. Or even have one for that matter. Are you really serious?”
“Well,” Hook cast his eyes away for a moment, but his arms remained firmly around her waist, “If I’m being completely honest, it’s more like you, a fine bottle of rum, and home by the water with a dock where I can take Henry sailing on the Jolly Roger. With a bit of monster fighting mixed in between. But the rest is just details really.”
Emma’s eyes glittered anew. The weight of Hook’s confession unlocked feelings Emma had learned to ignore, suppress, and fear. After the abandonment and betrayal in her past, Emma had internalized a heavy skepticism, even of those closest to her. Don’t trust anyone. People may tell you they want the best for you, but they lie, they send you back, they betray your trust. They let you down.
But the fact was that she did trust Hook. More than anyone in her life, he’d proven consistent, honest, supportive, and understanding. Despite his dark past, and maybe more because of it, Emma felt more uneasy with her hesitation than she did of Hook’s own declarations. She believed whole heartedly that he didn’t intend to let her down. And what’s more, that he truly loved her. And that was why she went with her intuition, and kissed him again.
She threaded her fingers through his tousled hair, which was still damp, presumably from Ursula’s disagreement with him, and pulled him in close to deepen their kiss. He kissed her back with a hunger that often seemed to overtake him when they were together. Like he was afraid she would evaporate or suddenly change her mind. He brought his right hand up to cup her cheek, spooling his fingers through her loose tresses. Emma moaned and, bodies pressed together, she slowly pushed them backward until they were flush with the cabin wall. Hook’s right hand slipped down her back to gently slide down to the back of her thigh, while his left arm and hook encircled her waist, pulling her more closely against his form. His kisses drifted down her jaw, pressing more and more desperately into the crook of her neck. Emma’s breath hitched as she tilted her head backward, her mind fogged with all of the details of the past few minutes.
“Emma?”
They broke apart quickly, faces red and eyes scrunched shut.
“Yeah, Mom?” Emma managed.
“So sorry to interrupt.” Snow looked positively mortified, her eyes diverted to the corner of the cabin. “But Ursula needs to speak with Hook. And it’s probably a good idea to clear out of Gold’s cabin. You know, in case they all come back.”
“Yep.” Emma finished. “We’re coming.” | fb57c53cb5e44691853ecc19e1e72f75 | ['b731b9455093444ca593a14b0e7f960d'] | A Lucky Hand
“And a double run of three makes for a total of 18 points!” Emma grinned victoriously, moving her peg forward on the track. She bit her lower lip as she gloated across the diner table, slamming her palm on the surface in excitement.
“Do you swear you’re not cheating, love?” Killian folded his cards into the deck with a look of mock suspicion. “Because I do believe you are going to, how do you say it, ‘skunk’ me in this game.”
Emma’s smirk was unmoved at the accusation, “chalk it up to a series of lucky hands, Captain. With helpful touches of strategy and intuition. Now, your turn to deal, and don’t be a baby about it.”
“Aye, as you wish, my dear.” As Killian skillfully shuffled the deck with one hand, Emma took a moment to revel in the simplicity of the moment. Playing cribbage in the middle of the day at Granny’s, laughing, drinking cocoa, flirting. Emma knew it wouldn’t be this peaceful for long, but funnily, she seemed at peace with that. Voices bubbled and murmured around them in the diner- no screams of fear, no public panic, no Leroy running through the doors announcing the next big crisis (knock on wood, Emma quickly thought to herself). In contrast, a lazy game of cards seemed like the utmost luxury- comparable to a two week vacation in the Maldives with endless fruit cocktails and daily massages.
Ruby paused a moment at their table, flashing them both a grin that seemed both genuine and winking, “You both doing okay over here?”
“Alas, I’m afraid Emma is faring far better than meself,” Killian grumbled as he swiftly dealt the next hand out. “But the hot chocolate is giving me comfort,” he raised his mug to toast Ruby, and then took an exaggerated swig while catching Emma’s eye.
“Let me just put him out of his misery, Ruby, and we’ll be out of your hair.” Emma responded.
“Oh, no rush!” Ruby insisted, “It’s nice, you know. All of this.” Emma didn’t need to ask her to elaborate. She knew exactly the feeling Ruby wordlessly described.
The pegging round of cribbage went quickly- Emma collected another 8 points, Killian 2. Killian had a surprisingly decent hand (run of three and a pair). But, he failed to catch Nobs, as Emma swiftly and gleefully pointed out in her turn. “You missed it!” Emma exclaimed, “So *I* get the points.”
“Bad form, Swan!” Killian protested, his brows creased “It’s in my hand!”
“It’s not ‘bad form’” Emma sighed heavily, “It’s in the rules! You snooze you lose. You leave it out there, I get to steal it! You of all people,” Emma leaned in over the table to look him closely in the eyes, “should understand that. Am I wrong, pirate?”
Killian’s lips pursed together in a childish pout. “I suppose you make a point, love.”
“Besides,” Emma snickered, tossing down her cards, “12 point hand. Means I win.” Once again, biting her bottom lip, she moved her peg to the final point in the track. Killian’s remained just two place below the 90-point line. “And you, I’m afraid, are…”
“Skunked. Again. Yes, I see, Swan.” Killian tossed his cards in a pile on the table in exasperation. “Well, I concede that you certainly have the upper hand in this clever card game, Swan.” He stood up quickly and crossed to her side of the table. He offered her his right hand and bent low to her ear, “Now may I suggest another activity where I dare suggest that *I* have the upper hand.”
Emma couldn’t help but let out a girlish giggle, as she accepted his outstretched hand. She whispered back, “I wouldn’t say *you* have the upper hand. You’ve only got one, you know.”
“Aye, but as you well know, one hand is all I need for what I’ve in mind.” His whisper was suddenly heavy and velvety in suggestion. Emma’s face flushed deeply as she quickly got to her feet. Arms around one another, the pair left the dining area with a noticeable anticipation in their steps toward the back of the B&B.
Ruby came by and swept their area clean, including the abandoned board and cards. She couldn’t help but smirk knowingly to herself as she once again added the bill to their unpaid tab, which had been growing in number and frequency since the two of them had started “mysteriously” disappearing before their meals were finished. |
3d19fe0b25fc46648ae788eac18afe60 | ['b74554a700074347ab3553db63cf04a3'] | Sam turned around from his bonding with strangers, and a wide grin crossed his face. To him, you and Bucky were the 2015 version of the iconic sailor and nurse kiss.
“Now, that’s what’s up!” Sam said with a tight grin. Bucky pulled her up and winked at Sam.
“Happy New Year, Sam…” You smiled, a hand resting on Bucky’s chest. You rolled your eyes as you watched Sam open his arms with an open mouth smile.
You pulled yourself from Bucky and hugged Sam giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Ah, yeah…” He looked at Bucky, who stood back smiling. “Be jealous.”
You looked over your shoulder, giving Bucky a playfully pointed look.
Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist.
She sighed contently and wrapped her arms around Bucky’s waist in a tight hug, wishing him the New Year. They stood like that, Bucky rubbing his hand along her arms. All around them, confetti fell, and horns and whistles went off simultaneously were the added touch to the experience.
You basked at this moment, your smile never leaving your face. His heartbeat against your ear, along with the joyous shouts all around them, and watching people hug one another, a few couples starting off their year with a first kiss had to be the best New Year’s you could have ever wished for.
“Have a good year?” Bucky asked Sam, as he watched a couple dance a few feet away.
“One I’ll never forget, that’s for sure.” Sam chuckled. “What 'bout you?” He leaned an arm on his free shoulder.
Bucky glanced down at you. “Oh, _a lot_ better.” He looked at Sam with a smirk. “Then you started showing up frequently.” Bucky nudged Sam’s arm off his shoulder, jokingly.
Sam let his head fall back, as he barked a laugh. “Y’all know you enjoy having me around. Give’s y’all a break from Tony.”
The three hung around a few minutes longer before heading back to Stark Tower when snow was starting to fall.
**Author's Note:**
> Congrats! You made it to the end. Pretty uneventful, huh? (I wrote this like two years ago with the intention of posting it on here...kinda of forgot. It was originally part of a set of one shots from an OC/Bucky fic, but hey, it's NYE so why not now.) Thanks for reading and commenting if you do! I'm not the greatest writer, especially back then and probably not any better not as I've been on a huge writing hiatus you could say, BUT I want to get back into it again. Also! I may add a second part to this back at Stark's Tower?? *waggles eyebrows* | b9312a3d50894ca2b5c0b42782d3103b | ['b74554a700074347ab3553db63cf04a3'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Who would have thought this is who you'd be spending New Year's Eve with.
That time of year rolled around again. It was New Year's Eve.
Tony had suggested everyone watch the ball drop from the tower because it was the best view in New York without the added sea of bodies.
Natasha and Clint decided to take Stark up on his offer. Crowds on occasions never were their thing, and wished to spend the evening with each other and their small group of friends.
Sam came up to New York earlier that day to spend the New Year with everyone. Steve informed him that he was always welcome, and quickly pulled him into the loop for their plans that evening.
The plan was for Steve and Sharon, and Bucky and you to go down to Time Square to watch the drop together. Yet, an untimely fever decided to bless Sharon the last day of the year.
She insisted for Steve to go with the other three, not wanting him to waste the New Year worrying about her wellbeing and how she could take care of herself. But being the Steve he was, he stayed behind to make her chicken soup, and provide her with anything she asked for.
\---
There weren’t a lot of people on the street as they walked towards Time Square. Then again half of New York was probably at their destination.
“Is this your first time seeing it?” You leaned into him as they walked. Sam followed next to you with hands in his coat.
“Last I saw, it was wrought iron in 1941,” Bucky smirked. “After that, I didn’t get out much.”
“Good news, ‘cause in the past few decades both of y’all had an upgrade,” Sam snickered referring to Bucky and the sphere.
As soon as the turned the corner, they were greeted by the suspended ball down the street. The closer they got the bigger it seemed to get to Bucky, who was in awe.
Sam was right about it looking a lot different than from what he remembered. The sphere was larger than the five-foot diameter it used to be in 1941. It was also _a lot_ brighter due to the new LED lights that illuminated the triangles which formed the structure.
“That sure is something,” Bucky said under his breath. “Wow.” He wished Steve was here to see this, though he was certain he’d already seen it.
Bucky and Steve went to watch the ball drop every year before America entered the war. Despite the fear, Bucky had that Steve would end up sick as a dog the next day.
***
Everyone on the street was counting down, their faces upturned in awe at the sphere of crystal.
_Fifty-eight…fifty-seven…!_
You recollected on your past year, thinking of what you had done, and could have done better. Something you were sure everyone thought of. You looked up at Bucky, who was hollering his own countdown like everyone else, and wondered if he had anything to reminisce about.
_Thirty-two…thirty-one…!_
You smiled at how happy he looked, like a child in a candy store. There was probably a time when he never thought he’d make it to see this year, and how despite everything that he had gone through, was he happy it brought him here.
Bucky drew his attention away from the tradition of his home state, to see the smiling gal watching him.
“Twenty-six,” Bucky winked, wrapping an arm around you as you leaned into him looking up at the sight above them, joining the countdown.
_Another year you weren’t meant to see, pal_ , Bucky thought to himself. Though this thought didn’t have a negative to it, he felt there was something more. Each year that passed in the last seventy went unnoticed. This would be the first year in a long time he could witness a significant change in time as Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Just like old times with his best friend.
“Five…four…three,” Bucky counted, his smile widening. He could sense you rise up on your toes, as though she was preparing a giant holler for the New Year.
Everyone’s eyes were trained on the ball.
“Here we go…!” Sam commented with a broad smile, watching the ball slowing.
“One!” A roar from the crowd standing in Times Square filled the streets, the ground riveted from the enthusiasm welcoming the New Year.
“Happy New Year!”
Sam stood beside Bucky and shook him by the shoulders. “Ha-ha! Happy New Year, brother! Woo!” He turned and hooped and hollered with a group of people wishing them too.
Bucky laughed, nodding towards the sphere and calling out his own, “Happy New Year, America!” All the while grinning ear to ear, as everyone on the street was lit with flashes of colors and covered in festivities.
The sky was filled with sparks and patterns of color, flickering light across the steel structures’ windows of New York. You had never witnessed the start of New Years in the upper northeast, and never really seen the big deal of watching a crystallized ball of light lower. But seeing it in person with the rest of New York was another phenomenon.
You let out an added hoot while clapping your gloved hands, letting all this happiness around fuel you. It was unbelievable what a great wave of emotion can do to a person. All of the excitement was contagious when it came to things like this.
This was a first for her, and for Bucky in a very long time.
Turning around to take Bucky’s face between both of your hands, you pulled him in for a long kiss. You pulled away smiling, only to be brought in a chuckle, as Bucky swooped you into a dip and leaning in for another kiss.
He held her, smiling. “Happy New Year,” he murmured, planting another light kiss on her lips. |
7096430ad5a54d84ac0c1772496de3fa | ['b74e2f40e84b426fbf9d674c537da231'] | in closeness, understanding
“Weiss? I need to ask a favour.”
She glanced up and gave a single nod, one eye still on the paperwork she’d been filling out. Lie Ren took no offense, familiar with her distance, and came closer.
No one in the precinct knew why she was standoffish, only that it was coupled to her silence on her personal life. But people learned to accept however she interacted with them; be it through a quiet revelation, or being shot an unimpressed look after attempting to tell that she’d look better if she smiled more.
“I’ve a Mr. Volk coming in later to give a statement, but Captain Goodwitch is pulling me and Nora to help with more patrols today.”
“Mm.” Her eyes flicked over to the clock. “When is he coming in?”
“Five. Around the time your partner will be getting fidgety behind their desk.”
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. She gave him a knowing a look as she replied, “In other words, it’s in my best interest to accept.”
He smiled back. “I thought you might like the chance. Course, I could always throw in something extra…?”
Her amusement caught and grew into a smile. “You know the burger place off Centre Street.”
He nodded, expression mirroring hers, and touched two fingers to his temple before he walked away. “Pleasure doing business, Weiss.”
-
The day was quiet until Mr. Volk’s arrival. Quiet enough that Weiss was as relieved as Ruby when the front desk called and said that he was there.
That relief quickly faded when he took one look at Weiss and scowled. Looking to Ruby next, he demanded, “Where are Officer Valkyrie and Officer Hua? I came to talk to _them_.”
Ruby blinked and glanced over to Weiss, but found no explanation there. She looked as confused as they felt. So they turned back to him, and said, “Sir, they’re currently out right now, but my partner here–”
“I will wait for them then.” His face set, he made for one of chairs set out, paying no heed to any of those staring.
Ruby tried to reason with him. “Sir, Weiss can get you in and out of here in a matter of minutes.”
But he remained stonily silent, only looking over to Weiss to glare a moment before staring straight ahead again. Weiss was about to ask him just what problem he had with her when the doors that led outside opened, stirring the air in the room. In an instant she filed all that she smelt, the particular lemon-scented cleaner that got used on the chairs and desks, and the people there, including–
She swallowed. A were. Local no doubt. Someone who knew she was an exile.
Ruby was still trying to reason with the man, though frustration and indignation were beginning to show. It earned as much surprised attention as him. It was rare for them, outside of working on serious cases, to lose their air of ease, warmth, that followed them around as it did the rest of their family. But the edge to their voice was unmistakable. “I can promise you that it’d be better to do this now, sir, when they get back they will be tired–”
“Ruby.” It was quiet, but clear, and Ruby immediately fell silent and turned, expression confused from being stopped. “It’s alright…. Would you take care of it?”
“Me? But.” They glanced over at the man, now watching them with significantly less aggressive posture. “That’s, not…”
Weiss knew from the stubborn set of their face that they were reluctant to do it because he’d been rude to her, so she shook her head, gave Ruby a quick smile. “It’s okay.” It was what she had to say. Secrecy was sacrosanct, and his reasons, hers, could not be explained. “I’ll take care of a few other things, while you’re at it.”
They looked at her long, silently, scanning her expression, posture. “Okay. If you say so.”
-
Weiss threw herself into work, pushing at the fresh reminder of her status of packless, exile.
Her focus was why she jumped when Ruby dropped a paper bag down beside her elbow, before leaning to be at eye level. They stayed like that a few seconds, watching each other, before Ruby murmured, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“…It has to do with my family. Why I’m not close to any of them.” It painted the situation in broad strokes, but Ruby nodded after momentary surprise. “More than that, I… don’t really like bringing it up.”
Ruby accepted the vague answer with another nod, and their hand settled on Weiss’ wrist before squeezing. “We’re having the usual grill tomorrow. Should I tell Ma to buy a few extra steaks, ribs, maybe a whole cow…?”
Despite the dull ache in her chest, Weiss found she could smile. “I don’t eat that much.”
“You think that ‘cause you inhale it.” Ruby jumped away as Weiss brought her elbow up to prod them, before smiling extra-wide. “So is it a yes or no, Weiss? Ma’s been wondering when you’ll be coming around again.”
“Tell Summer yes. And tell her I’m using her youngest for sparring practice after.” | 5a5a9592f9554b96b319c2a9a86d2d77 | ['b74e2f40e84b426fbf9d674c537da231'] | vagrant child
**Author's Note:**
> I basically ran with one thought inspired by surfacage's comic, but into the past, along with a few other thoughts had. There's ramblings attached to these bits on Tumblr (along with the one other fragment I have for this idea), but since it'll come out chronologically here, I (hopefully) won't need them.
You dream of flying.
Not on a Pidgeot’s back, or a Fearow’s, or any other. _You_ fly. You spread your wings out and you soar above and through the clouds. The water freezes against your skin, but you’re invigorated rather than sapped, and your joy rises even higher.
The dream comes to you erratically throughout the years, and every time you wake you wonder when you’ll be part of the world above again.
-
When the professor invites you to work with him directly you can’t believe your ears.
“Sir–are you certain about this? There must be others far better suited for such a task–”
He shakes his head, as kind as when you first met. “I need people with drive, Blanche. And there’s no one as dedicated as you are to understanding evolution. We still know so little about it…” He grins. “Well, I don’t have to give you the spiel.”
You tilt your head in silent acknowledgement of his praise. You’ve discussed with him many times, why some evolved and others didn’t, the possible factors, including humanity. But you hesitate, saying, “I’ll think about your offer, Professor. Thank you,” before standing to leave.
His voice catches you. "It could be a good place to get that fresh start you wanted, Blanche.”
It could also be a terrible place to fall from, you think. But you don’t say it, only nod.
You’re certain he already knows.
-
Eventually he invites you to the lab to give you an idea of what you you’d be working with. There’s already a handful of techs hard at work, despite the sun still lingering beneath the horizon. There’s all the equipment you’d ever need, kept behind carefully cleaned glass and steel. Professor Willow lets it speak for itself.
Its argument is quite compelling.
But you’re still uncertain. “I still don’t think I’m the right choice, sir. Research is one thing, but leading a large group of people toward a specific goal–” your voice cracks, and your Vaporeon leaps onto your shoulders to nuzzle your cheek. You’re fractionally calmer as you ask, “How do I know, when I’m going too far?”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but…” He reaches into his pocket and offers Vaporeon a treat, chuckling when he promptly jumps back into your arms. “Listen to your partners when they’ve got something to tell you. They love you too much to let you stray.”
‘Or,’ you think, scratching along Vaporeon’s fins, 'love might bind their tongues.’
But before you can reply there’s two voices, just a beat after each other. “Professor!”
They clatter to a stop before him. They must’ve been running a while. The handful of seconds it takes for them to catch their breath gives you time to take them in, the dirt caked onto their boots, and the pleased expression on the professor’s face.
“Good timing, you two. Did you find everything?”
“Yup!” One snaps a thumbs up. “Couple Machoke and Kadabra, just like you asked.”
“Excellent.” To your surprise he turns to motion to you, then each of them in turn. “Blanche, Spark and Candela. They’re going to be leading the other teams. Spark, Candela, Blanche is the one I told you about before. They’ll be in charge of research into evolution.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” You give the professor a wry look, but he just grins in response.
“A maybe I’m hopefully swaying to a yes, then.”
Spark takes it in stride and shakes your hand firmly. “They ‘nd their, right? He and his for me. It’s nice to meet you.”
His smile stays on his face even when you pull away, and unlike so many other smiles, you feel his pleasure’s genuine. So you’re honest when you nod say, “Likewise."
When he withdraws his hand it’s to offer one finger to Vaporeon, who sniffs once before pressing his head forward. Your shoulders dip down and you breathe. He’s always had a good sense of people… though some days you still think he mixed you up with someone else.
"You got a full team, right?”
Candela’s eyes are expectant when you meet them, and force of habit draws your hand to your waist. “I do. I suppose you want a battle.”
“When Trainers see each other, right?” The grin you get is a toothy one, and Candela lopes off with an easy grace despite going backward. “Come down to the gym when the prof’s done with you, we can have some fun then!”
Professor Willow chuckles when the sound of steps fades away. “Well, I suppose there’s no better way to see whether the gym can hold up to an earnest fight.” You’re instantly curious, and it must show, because when he looks at you he says, “She went through the Indigo League. Spark as well.”
“I should show you the fight sometime.” Spark taps his temple with a proud look. “It was an awesome day.”
You nod absentmindedly in response. Of course Professor Willow’d pick strong folk for this. And while a first impression isn’t much to go on, you think you have the rough shape of them.
Perhaps you couldn’t rely on love of you as a check, but the strength of numbers…
You turn to the professor. “Can I give you my answer after the fight, sir?”
You have to be sure. |
4a87356c9c204f8aa6abacb2e5490a78 | ['b761ff77fcce4961ba9acd1f2abaf78e'] |
1. Chapter 1
All Over You
Chapter 1
That night at Capsule Corp, white balloons and streamers adorned the main dining room, smells of all manner of delicious food wafted through the air, the champagne was flowing and friends and family were all brought together in celebration. Goten sat beside his best friend swishing his champagne absentmindedly around in his glass quietly observing the festivities.
Bulma, of course always the hostess ensuring everyone was enjoying themselves. Vegeta and Goku were devouring enough food to feed a small army while Chi-Chi muttered something about Saiyan men and their poor table manners.
And of course, the guests of honor, if you will, Trunks and Marron. After dating for a year and a half, Trunks had decided to pop the question. It was strange almost, to see Trunks settling down and letting go of his former party boy lifestyle. It had started as casual flirting shortly after Marron had become Trunks' secretary after graduating from college. Flirting eventually turned into a date, and then another date, and then sex. Sex eventually turned into affection. Soon Trunks found himself ignoring the copious advances of any other woman. Instead of spending his evenings out at the bar, he found himself content to be curled up on the couch with the blonde simply watching a movie and enjoying her company. He found himself wanting to spend the rest of his life with Marron.
Goten couldn't help but feel a bit jealous, of his friend. Not because he had feelings for Marron. Because that wasn't the case. He missed that feeling, the feeling of being completely wrapped up in another person.
He thought he'd found it too.
Things had been out of sorts between them for a while. He would come home to find the apartment empty after a long day at the dojo. He thought nothing of it at first. It would happen once or twice a week... Then it was every other night. Then she would agree to leave on extended business trips without discussing it with him. When she was gone her phone calls were few and far between.
Soon he stopped even expecting them. Goten was a patient man, but he was growing sick of waiting for things to go back to the way they were.
He had begun spending more and more time at work in his dojo. Trying to keep his mind off the void slowly growing between them and the pain it caused in his chest.
All of that, had built toward this moment.
* * *
_"Is everything alright? You were quiet at the restaurant tonight."_
_Paris took a seat on the soft beige sofa, fidgeting with her hair, an uncomfortable, somewhat disinterested look on her face as Goten hung up their coats._
_"What? Oh no... everything's fine."_
Everything's _fine? Everything certainly hadn't felt fine. Paris had just returned that day from a two-week photo shoot with her modeling agency and something had seemed off ever since he'd collected her from the airport. She had said next to nothing to him all night, she'd barely even touched her dinner and he'd taken her to her favorite restaurant to celebrate her homecoming._
_"Are you sure?"_
_A small red light blinking from the answering machine caught his attention. The screen above it read, '1 unheard message'. Goten pressed the play button, expecting to hear the voice of his mother or perhaps Trunks._
_"Hey Paris it's Blaine, I just wanted to tell you, I had a great time with you this week, and I can't wait to see you again, call me back when you get a chance."_
_Onyx eyes met chestnut, and everything clicked._
_Goten clenched his fist and scoffed quietly, "So everything is fine huh?"_
_He was met with a sigh, "You know what Goten, No, actually everything is not fine."_
_He turned to face her fully, unsure of what to say to that. She was right, everything wasn't fine, it hadn't been for a long time._
_She stood up, tossing her chestnut waves over her shoulder in exasperation. "I think it would be_ best, _if we spent some time apart."_
_Goten was quiet for a moment. He'd known this was coming, he'd expected it, to a degree. What he didn't expect was the feeling of... emptiness that came. He wasn't angry, wasn't even necessarily sad. If he felt anything, he felt disappointed. Disappointed, that all their time together had been wasted and fizzled out the way it had._
_"I'll pick up my stuff tomorrow and I'll leave my key in the mailbox." He threw his jacket back on and walked out the door._
* * *
"Alright alright everyone settle down! First of all, Marron and I want to thank you guys for coming out tonight to celebrate our engagement!" Trunks gave his new fiancé an affectionate squeeze, "And we have a few favors to ask."
The room quieted as Trunks cleared his throat before looking to his best friend sitting to his right.
"Goten, we've grown up together, we've seen the best and worst of each other, you're like the brother I never had and I'd like you to be my best man!" Trunks let go of Marron as Goten stood to accept and give his best friend a hug and congratulate him once more.
"And since we're going to be sisters soon, Bura I'd like you to be my maid of honor!" Marron chimed in.
The room erupted in applause for the happy couple. Fresh bottles of champagne were uncorked with a series of 'pops'. Krillin could be seen sobbing onto his wife's shoulder "My little girl is all grown up and getting married!"
Goten gave a small smile, before leaving the large dining table and making his way out onto the lavishly decorated balcony. | d7b5ac61c92b4d228c935057b343c908 | ['b761ff77fcce4961ba9acd1f2abaf78e'] | Bura was just finishing up a graceful front limber when three pointed claps informed her that she was no longer alone. She turned to see Goten leaning against the door. "Since when do you train in the gravity room?"
"Oh, on and off for the last couple of years."
The pressure he felt inside the GR was higher than outside, but not so much that it caused too much resistance in his movement. "how high can you stand to crank this thing up?"
"Only about 50 times earth's natural gravity." Bura smiled, raising her arms high above her head and stretching in a cat-like manner.
"Want to spar with me?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"What?"
"Do-you-want-to spar-with-me?" He deftly removed his shirt and tossed it onto the floor near the entrance, leaving him in only his loose training pants as he laced his hands behind his head and began stretching from side to side.
She arched her eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip, "You're joking, right?"
"I'm completely serious."
"No way, you'd kill me." She said flatly giving him a very pointed look.
Goten chuckled lightly, "Aww come on, it'll be fun, it's always much more fun to train with someone else."
"Obviously, you didn't train much with my Dad."
"I didn't know you trained with Vegeta."
"Not for long! You know how he is about training..." She trailed off rolling her eyes at the memory. "You're used to training with far more advanced opponents, I doubt you'd even enjoy sparring with me."
Bura was usually the picture of confidence, she was beautiful, smart and successful. But whereas her father and brother had spent a large amount of time improving their prowess in battle, she had followed in her Mother's footsteps, academically. Even though Trunks would inherit the title of CEO of Capsule Corp. when Bulma was ready to pass the torch, Bura had proven to be every bit the genius her mother was, developing new and improved space crafts, and even making some improvements to the GR. Her martial arts training had taken somewhat of a backseat.
"Hey don't be so hard on yourself, you're just as much a Saiyan as I am!" He offered her a classic Son smile.
Bura stood there for a moment quietly, a measuring look on her face. He looked genuinely excited at the idea of a spar with her, it was a nice change from the mopey Goten he had been two weeks prior.
"I haven't sparred with someone else in a while..."
"Come on! Nothing too intense, I am an instructor at the Satan City Dojo, I work with beginners all the time. You're hardly a beginner and I'd like to think I'm a little more patient than Vegeta..."
She nodded, her trepidation eased somewhat. "Okay."
His smile widened. "Alright!"
"I think we should set some ground rules first."
Goten nodded, "I'm listening."
"No ki, strictly hand to hand and no flying and no going super saiyan."
"Fair enough."
Bura mentally braced herself as she moved settle into her fighting stance, this was going to be interesting.
Goten was the first to rush forward, Bura was quicker than he'd expected, quickly sidestepping him, he swiftly swung around to aim a punch her way, she sidestepped that one as well and all but sashayed behind him to aim a kick right at his head.
Goten quickly swung back around catching her foot just in time to stop it from connecting with his head, "You're quick, but can you land a punch on me?"
Bura swirled out of his reach once more, with a smirk mirroring that of her father's. "Give me some credit Goten."
She did eventually get a hit in, then another, and another. Her movements meticulous and graceful, what Bura lacked in brute strength she made for in agility.
Being the more experienced fighter he was able to knock her off her balance a few times, she was quick to recover though, dancing back out of his reach. They circled each other slowly, Bura readied herself for his next assault raising her fists into a defensive position.
"You need to keep your fists at eye level, you're leaving your face unprotected."
Bura blinked briefly before adjusting the position of her fists, raising them up to her eye level as he'd suggested.
"Just like that," He smirked before lunging toward her once more swinging his fist toward her face, Bura gasped throwing her fist up just in time to block the strike and circle back around him.
Goten blinked in surprise when Bura's fist came within mere centimeters of his face as though she were about to punch him but grasping his shoulder instead, using it as a leverage point to somersault right over his head and kicking him squarely in the back.
Goten stumbled forward in surprise, that one was going to leave a bruise. He swung back around to face her, Bura stood just a few feet away, looking focused, like a serpent wait to strike. "Nice shot."
"You're not so bad yourself," The saiyan princess smirked her bright blue eyes shone with intensity.
Just as Bura moved in to land a punch on him, Goten had ducked down swinging his leg out and effectively sweeping her feet out from under her. Bura winced as a sharp pain shot through her right leg right as she landed on her rear. She didn't have time to linger on the feeling for long though as Goten moved to pin her she rolled away from him and stumbled to her feet.
A prickly burning feeling was now radiating from her ankle now, she sucked in a breath sharply raising her hands in front of her in a defensive position. She vaguely wondered if she'd sprained it. |
ff9b7d8c6fd147aba1a76f2aae28d0d3 | ['b76c5c627b9849aa94714706436c44a4'] | "Before you and SHIELD intervened," He gives her a poignant look. "I was helping a group of researchers in India who were trying to unlock the potential of gamma radiation on a cellular level-" She fondly observes the way Bruce communicates with his whole body- his hands gesturing awkwardly about as if he doesn't know what to do with them, the muscles in his face tightening to make vivid facial expressions, and eyes that flash with whatever emotion he's warped in.
"—More specifically: the plant cell. They found gamma radiation speeds up metabolic processes, which means enhanced production of things like plants, medicines, spices...." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head in amazement. "And that was just the beginning."
Bruce's so distracted by the positive possibilities of gamma radiation, that he fails to notice a gnarled tree branch and stumbles over it. Natasha quickly reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt, effectively impeding his fall. He stares wide eyed at the woman looming over, still suspending him in her grasp. When she's sure he's not going anywhere, Natasha lets out a breath and brings him back to his feet. She squints at the unusually placed tree branch discarded on the ground, her eyes following a path of branches and debris that led to a clearing up ahead.
"What happened here?" Natasha breathes out, solely focused on the unnatural looking destruction before her. She shifts her eyes to Bruce as he squeezes his shut and clears his throat— memories flooding like a surging, merciless wave.
_Whole trees yanked out from their roots and torn in half, wood splintering from the pressure of his grip, animals screeching in fear as the scampered away from the scene— all their cries for help drowned out by the distinct roar of a single beast._
" _Bruce_?" Natasha insists, and judging by the way she crosses her arms in a protective manner over her chest means she already knows the answer to the awful question.
"The negative possibilities of gamma radiation is what happened." He replies grimly, a distinct, undeniable darkness washing over him.
"This was the site of your last incident?" She calls over her shoulder as she moves away to observe the area. Bruce doesn't answer- doesn't need to. He watches her frustratedly, fists clenching painfully by his sides. He doesn't want her to see what the Hulk is capable of. He almost catches her wrist when she begins to leave as to stop her, to keep her next to him. He wonders if she left him because his presence was unsettling or she was genuinely curious.
Natasha continues to explore deeper into the forest, her head whipping towards the source of a shrill cry of an animal, and the painfully familiar sound of gun being fired. She sees Bruce still standing alone in the clearing, pacing around in the dirt and twiddling his thumbs. He meets her worried gaze when the shot is fired and shakes his head vigorously in protest. He knows she won't listen as he watches the spy start into a mad dash through the dense forest.
Knowing she's unaware of the area and could easily get lost, Bruce lets out a regretful sigh before sprinting after her. He follows behind Natasha who moves with the swift grace of a gazelle, but she isn't the prey. He barely catches glimpses of her fiery hair– or sounds of twigs snapping under her quick feet as she runs further and further towards the source of the sound.
"Natasha!" Bruce hollers for her, but he's out of breath and can barely speak. His throat is raw and his heart is pounding dangerously in his ears when he feels something rustle inside him. He's desperately swatting leaves and branches from his face as he continues deeper into the chaos. Bruce had done his fair share of running, but always away from people, not towards them.
When he snaps out of that thought, he realizes that he's lost her. He skitters to a stop to catch his breath, his chest heaving with each swallow breath. He feels the dull ache in his thighs and a throbbing sensation in his head that turns him numb and tingling all over. A part of him wonders if he should just turn around and go home, act like he never saw her. But that becomes extremely difficult when he hears shouting up ahead.
"Natash-" Her name falls short from his mouth as he beholds the scene before him.
"Natasha, eh?" The burly man constraining her in his tight grasp lets the name roll off his tongue. Even though his tanned hand covers most of her face, Bruce sees she pissed. "That's what you call yourself now? I like Natalia better– more importantly, so does the boss." When he steps out of the shadows, the group of men recognize what he is.
" _You're th-that thing!_ " Someone cries out, but Bruce is too lost in trying to control himself to distinguish who in the mass of faces before him says it. The man holding Natasha snarls before tossing her to the ground insignificantly. He feels the Hulk clamor inside him once more at that, feeling it pounding at his chest, threatening to break his rib cage– or perhaps that's his heart. His toes curl up in his worn out shoes and he shakes his head sharply as if that could shake off the beast.
" _Bruce_." Natasha says his name in the same manner she did before he attacked and it enrages him further to think he was unraveling to that point once more. One moment of weakness, of distraction, is his undoing– and consequentially everyone else.
Bruce's muscles spasm and his skin feels too tight- constraining. For a long moment, every noise turns numb in his ears and all he sees is vicious shades of green that cloud his sight. | b202d985c009432badbb746852419ab9 | ['b76c5c627b9849aa94714706436c44a4'] | "Heimdall." Loki whispered sharply, looking up confusedly as to why no golden light engulfed him as usual. " _Heimdall!_ " He shouted, his eyes flittering about frustratedly as his fist pounded on the desktop. There was still no response. Loki's eyes widened and he quickly turned towards the door to see Natasha had not been awoken by the noises he made. The god shrugged and decided to add some finishing details when he realized he was out of ink. He opened a drawer to retrieve another bottle of ink when he saw the potion gleaming a soft pink light from behind. Loki sighed deeply, Turing away from the desk and leaned back in his chair as he examined the potion that was warm to the touch. His flat eyes roved over it with a dull disappointment lining his features as he rotated the glass in his slender fingers. A soft huff and the sounds of papers rustling caused Loki to whip around in his seat.
"Natasha!" Loki placed a hand on his heart suddenly beating profusely under his palm, his eyes widened in shock as he slipped the potion behind his back. "Who are you writing these obscene letters to?" She turned the envelope over and saw it was addressed to Thor. Natasha bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head disappointedly. While she was distracted roving over the letter, Loki carefully eased open the drawer and began reaching out to place the vial back inside. " _'Brother, coupling with Natasha is more fulfilling than any other partner either of us have experienced. She be more pleasurable than your petty bar wench of a women Agorina I dare say_.'" Natasha recited Loki's words from his letter disgustedly. "You know? I would've expected this from Fandral maybe, but not-" Her words were cut off when her hand flung out to grasp Loki's wrist. His hand accidentally released the glass vial and it fell to the floor, not before Natasha reached out and captured it. Her eyebrows knitted together as she examined the pink liquid that radiated a soothing warmth from it, it making her feel hazy just from being in close contact. She immediately recognized the feeling that slowly overcame her when she took the bath.
"What is this Loki?" Natasha looked up at the god sitting uncomfortably before her. "Is this some sort of magic spell you used to get me to sleep with you?" Her fingers clenched tightly around the bottle, Loki was somewhat fearful it would shatter in her grasp. "Well, not exactly. But you're close." Loki stood from his chair, effortlessly feigning casualty despite his growing fear and frustration when he realized how terribly wrong his plan had backfired on him. "You see, magic spells are merely transfers of supernatural energy." He turned back around to see Natasha wasn't pleased with his stalling. "What you've got there is actually a potion. That's one of the reasons I have been gone oft." Loki sighed as he watched Natasha place a trembling hand over her mouth and turned away from the sight of him. "But it's not a potion intended to make you sleep with me per se," He placed his hands on her shoulders which immediately tensed under his touch. "But to cause you to love me I suppose." He definitely wasn't going to tell her it was really a tool used in bringing her submission. _'The bastard practically drugged me. He claims he only wants me to love him, but how is he any different to my handlers who locked me away and tainted my body with mind altering serums?'_ Natasha turned around to face the god and subtly shook her head. _'This isn't love, this is obsession. Loki doesn't know anything of love, more along the lines of subjugation.'_
"What are you thinking about Natasha?" Loki inquired, giving into to the gnawing anxiety and anticipation that was engendered from her response. She honed her eyes on him and bit the inside of her cheek. "How could someone truly love something so utterly inhuman?" Her eyes narrowed at Loki in utter disgust, arms holding her sides in a protective manner. By her body language alone, he knew he lost her. But he couldn't allow her to be superior over him. Loki felt cornered and frustrated that his plans to win over Natasha which consisted of much sacrifice amounted to nothing. He felt completely vulnerable and knew the only way to gain control was to fight back. Loki mastered the look of indifference with many millennia of training from when Odin shouted insults at him or when Thanos snarled vivid death threats every time he failed- He crossed his arms over his puffed up chest and tilted his chin defiantly at her. There was no way he would allow any signs of weakness to show. " _I love you_ , and you have an impressive ledger of your own inhumanities to account for." Natasha swallowed hard as her throat began to burn and close up, but she would never succumb to crying. _'Especially in front of one's captor, it would be the greatest sign of weakness.'_ Her mind recalled being taught how to repress her emotions to an immaculate degree as she kept eye contact with Loki. |
61531956ba34447284bc63f47d5513ae | ['b78ab651bbcc4ca2abdfeaac92c056dc'] | 1. Protanopia
**Author's Note:**
> I believe in you.
When I think of you, I think of the sky. I don't know if it's your lighthearted, girly nature, or the pastels that I find so endearing. You boldly make yourself vulnerable to me -- uncaring if myself or others might take advantage of your walls falling down. You are someone that everyone sees; underestimates; takes for granted -- myself included. We are a sort of complex simplicity when we're together -- we just sort of fit, in some strange way we don't understand, but we fall naturally into place. It's just that no one else sees it as quite so simple. Refractory light creates shades of colors that you can't see, and I don't have the power to show them to you. Color is not the only thing I've failed to show you -- you might never believe that I see you as a gorgeous soul: open, vulnerable, caring, protective, loyal, and trusting. I could never show you how strikingly different lime green and bright orange are, and I fear you'll never see how beautiful you are, either. Yes, I'm sure by now you think I'm full of shit, and I'm aware that half the time I sound like a greeting card. But that's just me; I am more of an optimist than I ever let on, and I wish people would see how stunning they are, even if they and our cynical, plastic society deny it. And it's more than just me wanting to dress you up in pastel skirts and ribbons. You fear you won't be enough for me, when to me you're already approaching the point of more than I ever deserved. You are cautious, apprehensive, small, gentle, obedient, and shy; you willingly throw all of that to the wind when you feel called to protect me. I like to think I'm strong enough to not need that, but I need you probably more than I could admit. You have a beautiful figure, sure, but I fell for (in that strange way I do) your nerdy, loyal, submissive, protective mind. That's what makes me want to guard you: your innocence rare in the modern world -- not in experience, but in cruelty. You see and show the good that many people have already done away with, and I love you for it. I'll protect you with everything I have, and I know you're ready to risk everything for me. We are symbiosis. We're violet and yellow, orange and cobalt, scarlet and soft mint. We complement each other -- you make me a better person for it, and I only hope I can return the favor.
2. Myopia
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I illustrated your flaws, so it’s only fair I do mine.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I love you, whether you like it or not.
Myopia: Commonly known as nearsightedness. An affliction shared by over 3 million people nationwide every year.
Myopia prevents the afflicted from seeing clearly anything that is not immediately within reach. Any distant object is blurred, and attracts little focus.
For me, I’m half myopic. My gaze flicks between sharp focus on the world in front of me and a painful, strained stare into the distance. I tend to allow the distant shapes to blur over when there’s something among them I don’t want to see.
Often, those dark silhouettes are the consequences of my own actions, but without glasses all I see is the positivity of instant gratification.
In short, my glasses protect you. They force me to appreciate the detrimental path we’re flying down as I become too much to handle.
Sadly, though, they don’t fix everything. The rosy tint of my lenses show us both a reality that can’t quite exist. One where we’re both happy but when you remove the rose clouding our vision, we really are not.
So you know what, _fuck it_. Every solution had its own set of flaws. I’m making my own. I implore you to give whatever lens I’m creating a try; it would make me happy if you saw us as I do. We are symbiotic. We are equals. I promise complete honesty to you. You’re going to protect me. I’m going to protect you. I’ll respect your limits, and I trust you’ll respect mine. I’ll guard you from your past. I want to be your chosen family. You never owe me anything, and the reverse as well. We balance each other, support each other, and protect each other. I love you, and I don’t intend to let something like this go. If you’re anything like me, you won’t either.
**Author's Note:**
> comments and kudos xx | 2d3b6d85103943fe951f4ec776703e17 | ['b78ab651bbcc4ca2abdfeaac92c056dc'] |
The Garden
**Author's Note:**
> From Eden // Hozier
She was the definition of resplendent perfection. By her very definition she was flawless; it is the only way she might be described. Yet, she is a slave. She is raised in naïveté and subdued by heartless masters. She chokes daily on the poisonous fabrications oft pushed down her delicate throat. She is dragged along on a lead of deception; knotted around her neck, she has no escape.
He tells her everyday how she is only half his equal. She is reminded that she is a pitiful fraction of her masters, and a vassal of the man from whom she was borne. She has no choice but to follow him through the expanses of his wealth, which she is not permitted to touch. She was Tantalus, forever taunted and punished by celestial cruelty.
I, myself, however, am too Tantalus. The fruits I crave are the glimpses I get of her perfect beauty; always just out of reach, just barely too little. I ache more for what I can see and get cannot reach than for my own sorry state. I wish to dwell in my own pain forever, to never see her nourishing image again if I could just free her from this place.
The puppeteers’ strings are manipulated by her celestial master; she is forever tormented in her own home.
The pain that comes from the tension on her strings rips through the seams that knit together my abhorrent flesh. The seams are woven from her ever-diminishing joy, and I know I will be gutted once she learns the truth.
She feeds the trickle of blood that still carries life through my veins. I am sentenced to the shadows untouched by her aura due to the indomitable brutality of her masters. I crawl to the edge of her light when I can bear my own suffering no longer.
I watch, the pain she has yet to feel racing through me, as her masters deny her the truth. It is plainly there for her, but she cannot see it through the think veil of lies that hangs around her and everything she knows.
I reach again the point of pain I can no longer manage alone, and I drag my disgusting limbs into the purity of her glow. It singes every hideous imperfection of my body — excruciating torture for just an ounce of the life she emits.
Her masters fear and despise me, and so all she knows is to loathe me. Her unwitting assistance burns through me, too, with guilt. I feel like a thief, a mongrel sustaining myself on pleasures I have done naught to deserve.
I edge forward, soaking in as much as I dare. The more the light dances over me, the more flames tear through me, cutting sharper and deeper as I pass through her radiant warmth and into the cool brevity of the shade of the forbidden tree. I haul myself up off the ground, flames still licking at me, searing into my bones.
Fading strength propels me towards the fruit and all I can see is her face in sharper detail than I ever could from the shadows. I rip my prize from its branch, cutting off its source of familiarity and life like I will soon do to my muse. The flames now not only tear through my body but so, too, my soul; I feel guilt over ripping her from the life she knows, but my greed is too powerful to allow me to fully burn. I trudge my way further, most of my body limp and useless, towards my love. I get close, closer than I dare, for probably the first and the last time. I hesitate for a second, basking in the feeling of purity I had long since forgotten. Even my own selfish pride is beginning to turn to ash, and I know I can no longer luxuriate in things I don't deserve. I push the fruit into her ankles, getting so close for a split second that the forbidden smell of her makes me instinctively recoil.
She reaches down absently, feeling for the disturbance at her ankles. As of now, she hasn't any more a care in the world than the time at which my world began to ignite. I am fulfilling prophecy, and corroborating the master I once abandoned. I am about to take the icon of purity and destroy it. Not all she knows is lies -- she is taught I am destined to destroy all that is good around her, and so I shall. I just hope with the one scrap of altruism that hasn't been banished to the depths of my domain that doing so will save her.
Her fingers close around the fruit and drag me from my reverie. I watch as my last good endeavor is lifted from the ground and toward her lips. I freeze. I know the moment her tongue meets that fruit, she will see me and the flaming world around me. The dark shroud that sheathes me will fall away, and the facades our masters put up will dissolve. I hope she will see what truth remains within me that our masters tried to conceal, and that she sees the truth in our masters as enlightenment rather than slander. There's hardly much of my body left and I feel it shredded when I see the agony paint her face as she sees her true surroundings for the first time. I see the flames reflected in her eyes; the horror at the faces she had been groomed to love. She sees her masters living lavishly in a world built for them, sees herself at last as their slave. I see resistance rise in her eyes. |
134d0242132b4bf98e87e56482a77fb9 | ['b794ee61893343ab9e8b9d40a55425c5'] | Lance felt the restraints around his wrists before he felt the cold table beneath him. His eyes flew open as he sat up as far as he could tugging desperately to get his wrists out the suffocating straps. He let out a painful and panicked sob as he searched around the room for something or someone to help him. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on Allura who was stood in the corner staring at him with her arms crossed.
"Please." Lance sobbed out pulling on the cuffs again and tried to ignore the ache in his chest due to his short panicky breaths.
He didn't want to be sealed away again and he most certainly did not want to remember being alone without his powers.
"Allura he helped us and protected Coran." Lance spun his head to look over his shoulder seeing Keith and Hunk.
Lance mouthed please to them and watched as they both softened before looking back to Allura with a cold stare.
"Allura." Hunk began but Allura quickly cut him off as she pushed herself off the wall.
"He's lying," Allura screamed pointing at Lance causing him to shrink in on himself.
Lance watched as the group closed in on one another screaming. He quickly glanced away from them to look at his trembling and tingling hands and let tears fall down his face as his heart sped up.
"Keith." Lance sobbed out but quickly yelled out in terrified annoyance as Keith didn't turn to him..
He looked to Hunk who was standing defensively behind Keith occasionally cutting off Allura and pointing to him every so often.
"Hunk." He yelled out letting out a shaky sigh as he turned to look at him.
Lance pulled against the straps as Hunk's jaw dropped, he could feel his lightning sparking off his limbs and see the room tinting blue in the corner of his eyes..
"Hide," He whispered before ripping his arms free of the restraints and wrapping his arms around his legs.
He could see Hunk under his arm pull Keith and Allura to the floor before he let himself scream out in agony as his lightning exploded off him connecting with every surface in the room. Lance felt the ache in his lungs dull down along with his energy falling dormant in his chest as he fell back onto the table heavily breathing and shaking.
"Lance?" Keith's voice was a soft and shaky whisper behind the flipped table and Lance his heart ache at the shake in Keith's voice.
Lance let out a groan as his head fall to the side looking in the direction of the group. Keith and Hunk stood up slowly walking over to him and Lance shakily sighed feeling the tears slip down his cheeks once again.
"I'm sorry." He whispered once they got close enough seeing the concerned look in their eyes.
"I began panicking... the cuffs..." Lance trailed off feeling his chest ache out of guilt.
"I'm sorry." He sobbed again while looking up at to Hunk and Keith.
Lance flinched as he felt someone's hand in his hair but relaxed seeing Keith lightly smiling at him.
"It's okay, we should have known that putting the cuffs on would trigger something." Keith softly spoke to him before glaring over his shoulder to Allura.
"We are going to help you okay." Hunk told him giving him a large smile.
Lance took a shaky breath in nodding as he closed his eyes and leaning into Keith's hand trying to relax.
"I'll tell you what you want to know," Lance whispered as he looked over to Allura who was looking down with her arms folded in front of herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lance was now sitting in the large dining hall with the rest of the paladins and Coran who was looking much healthier. The group was quiet as they thought and mumbled to one another making Lance wait. He felt anxious at the silence and wanted to either throw up or run away but the chatter of his lions calmed him enough to stay put.
"Why were you locked away?" Allura spoke up who was sitting directly opposite him with a glare.
Lance thought for a moment looking away to Keith beside him, he gave him a firm nod and Lance sighed out.
"Because of my powers and link to the Voltron lions." Lance watched as Allura and Coran's eyes widened.
"What is your link to the lions?" Shiro spoke up due to the Altean's long silence.
Lance looked down to the floor letting out a heavy sigh then locked eyes with Allura.
"I built them." Lance raised an eyebrow as Allura's features twisted into shock and anger.
"No my father built them." She screamed as she pushed herself out of her chair.
Lance sighed leaning back into the chair as Allura leaned forward onto the table snarling at him.
"And this is the exact reason as to why I didn't like your father." Allura stood back shocked as Coran grabbed a hold of her glancing back at him.
"What do you mean by that." Coran softly asked as he pushed tthe stubborn princess down into her seat.
"She's exactly like him," He scowled at her as she glared at him waiting for his next words.
"He was pig-head like she is, self-righteous, always thinking they are right and pure good." Lance hissed out as he looked away from her up to Coran who was gently nodding.
"He sealed me away so that the galra couldn't have me," Lance told them making Allura scoff.
"So he protected you." Allura leaned back crossing her arms and Lance stood pushing his chair back. | acb83af949174a599c95d3c173b4b105 | ['b794ee61893343ab9e8b9d40a55425c5'] | "No one would miss me, they would have come for me by now if they did." Lance felt a tear drip down his face and he raised a shaky to wipe it away.
Zethrid felt quite sad and a little heartbroken that the once snappy and bratty boy had lost hope and she had to admit she liked the sarcasm and sass he gave everyone, but now he seemed defeated and weak and all she wanted to do was hug him and tell him that he would soon be at peace but the plans that Lotor and Haggar had for him told her otherwise. The rest of the trip was silent and Zethrid mostly felt conflicted and Lance had fallen asleep, his breath was ragged and noisy due to the drowning part of Haggar's torture. She finally reached the main room where everything was set up for Lance's 'death' and so she laid him down onto the podium then took a step back watching his resting face and she vowed that once this was over and he was on their side she would protect the heartbroken, innocent, tortured boy.
9. Chapter 9
It had been two weeks since Lance came back, but the team hadn't been able to talk to him because of the Coran and Shiro incident. Shiro had then gone to Allura and told her that no can enter the room besides her and himself and she easily accepted his proposal so she locked everyone out and Keith was desperate to see Lance and tell him that he loved him. Currently Hunk, Pidge and Keith were sitting in the lounge, Hunk and Pidge were quietly talking which they only ever did around him due to them all feeling the same way about the current situation. Which was pissed. Keith was watching another video of Lance which was recorded when Keith took him down and he was desperately trying to figure out what had happened to him and how he was alive and fighting against them. His comfortable silence and Pidge and Hunk's light chattering was then interrupted by Shiro walking in.
"Hey, guys." Shiro put on a smile and Keith instantly felt himself want to punch him in the face but due to the last reaction from the others he decided against it.
Keith quickly stood up and began to walk to the door to exit but Shiro swiftly grabbed his arm and Keith looked back at him with a glare and tensed up his arm.
"Where are you going?" Shiro sounded so innocent and Keith had the stronger urge to hit him but he remained calm due to Hunk and Pidge still being in the room.
"As far away as possible from you." He quickly responded and gave a sarcastic smile before ripping his arm away.
"You need to get over yourself, if you can't deal with your problems then we won't be able to form Voltron." Shiro snapped at him stopping him dead in his tracks and slowly spun around to face him and heard Pidge whisper, "oh no."
"My only problem is you, you wanna know why? Cause you were the reason why Lance 'died', and because of you being back he feels useless and you're now the reason why I can't see him." Keith yelled back and pushed Shiro before turning back around and leaving the room before he did something that required a sword.
Keith stormed around the hallways for a while before seeing Coran in the kitchen, Coran had avoided all the paladins since he went to check on Lance and Keith had really wanted to talk to him so he took this as the perfect opportunity to do so. He stepped into the kitchen and Coran quickly spun around to him and looked him up and down before returning to whatever he was doing.
"Hi Coran." Coran tensed up and looked back at him gaving him an awkward smile.
"Hello Keith." Coran began picking up the pace and Keith walked over to him placing his hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?" Now that Keith was closer he could see the dark bags and messy moustache that Coran wore making Keith immensely worried.
"Yes fine." Coran responded too quickly and lightly shook off Keith's hand.
"I hope you're not lying cause we had a bonding moment remember. I don't think I could handle if someone else forgot." Coran scoffed lightly giving Keith a genuine smile and Keith could feel the previous anger slowly melt away.
Coran then stood taller and looked at the door and remained silent before looking back to Keith.
"I'm worried about Lance." Coran quickly spoke and Keith could see his eyes becoming shimmery making Keith suddenly feel down again.
"How is he, you know when you saw him?" Keith quietly asked and watched Coran look down rubbing his forehead before looking up again and crossing his arms.
"Not good, he was majorly on edge when I walked into the room and he was hurting himself with the cuffs." Coran spoke quietly, occasionally looking back to the door.
"And I'm thinking that Shiro may be hurting him but I haven't been in to see him and from what I can tell neither has Allura." Coran sighed looking back to Keith who felt the previous anger quickly returning.
"We have to help him." Keith blurted out and didn't realise how desperately he wanted to see Lance.
"Yes, I know but Shiro thinks he knows something so until we can somehow prove he doesn't we're stuck." Coran quickly responded in a whisper.
Keith was about to make a comment but Allura wandered into the kitchen and the two fell silent.
"What's going on." Allura looked at the two of them sceptically and Keith just shrugged.
"Nothing, I'm going to go train. Bye" Keith nodded to Coran before swiftly dodging past Allura and into the hall heading back to his room. |
b6182c775724498dbae4b3a311c7427e | ['b7a906e0b3b14641bf12ed4a26ff807e'] | Both Braden and Xenteel sighed in relief, Xenteel grinned as he rubbed the back of his neck "Well we have a baby's head to wet hey Braden" Xenteel said.
"Ya, you go ahead," Braden said with a false smile knowing what was going to happen.
As Xenteel got the cantina going, Braden made his way back to his room, as he entered he noticed the twi'lek dancer holding the baby girl in her arms as she sat next to Shakarri, it was obvious that Shakarri couldn't hold her daughter and Braden could see her tears of joy and grief as she stroked her baby's cheek.
Braden could feel his heartbreak, life was cruel but he wasn't going to show it, Shakarri never flinched in a fight and never let her fear of death stop her she kept going knowing she would die that day or the next.
Braden approached both woman and Shakarri smiled as she looked up at Braden, "Isn't she beautiful" Shakarri said as the twi'lek stood up and handed the baby over.
"Thank you," Braden said as the twi'lek bowed and made her way out back to Nem'ro's, Braden took the twi'lek place close to Shakarri, Braden smiled as the Baby girl eyes opened slightly he could see some of her mother features on her like her red skin and black markings.
Braden could just make out where her horns would come out, unlike her mother whose horns protrude along her skull; these ones would come across her forehead meaning this one could have hair when she grew up.
"She's gonna be a real heartbreaker when she old enough" Braden joked, Shakarri laughed but it only brought on a small coughing fit, Braden must have move slight to check her but she motion her hand to stop him as she took a deep breath and moved slightly over so Braden could put the baby down.
The girl moved about as she was placed on the bed, making small cries as she reach out for something, Shakarri smiled as she placed her finger in her daughter's hand, the girl gripped hard as gave a cheerful sound as if knowing whose finger she was holding.
Braden remained silent as Shakarri looked at her daughter, Braden could see the pain she was in not from her wound but know she wouldn't see her daughter grow into a fine warrior as she was.
"Braden" Shakarri reach out with her other hand to grip Braden's, "Promise me you'll keep her safe, I don't know why the Republic attack us but I fear we were targeted for a reason, if word gets out I survived whoever planned this will coming looking" Shakarri said her voice sounding concerned.
Braden nodded in response but Shakarri wasn't done, "I need you to do one last thing for me, in my armor, there a letter I need you to send, don't ask who it for and don't open it just send it" she said strongly, "Of Course, I know what you'll do to me if a do" Braden chuckled slightly.
Shakarri chuckled as well and the turned her head to her baby girl, "Make sure she learns Mando'a, if she can't be raised by my people I still want her to learn her heritage" Shakarri said as a tear flowed down her face.
Braden gritted his teeth in frustration as he watches his friend slowly fade way but he made no move to move her child, as few minutes passed and just as Shakarri faded away she spoke one final time "Thank you, Braden, for being here and for this, and don't think about blaming yourself it was my choice, just keep your promise and I know that she grow to be a something great" Shakarri said as Braden watch the life in her eyes begin to fade.
Braden asked finally what he should have asked at the beginning, "What's her name?"
Shakarri smile one finally time and spoke only one word "Risona" and with her final breath her eyes closed and she slipped away, Braden held her hand tightly as the tears he held back finally fell, he'd lost many friend and colleagues over the year such was their profession but to lose Shakarri it was harder for him.
Braden finally stopped crying once shakarri's daughter started whimpering, he dried his eyes and picked up the small child, her hand managed to grip on if his finger and she held tightly.
He smiled as he held the child; he would keep his promise to Shakarri and keep her daughter safe and one day in the future she would grow to be just as strong and just as amazing as her mother.
"Well then, Little Ris I better get started on knowing how to raise you or at least find someone who can help," Braden said the small child gave a short cry in agreement.
**Author's Note:**
> First story of my SWTOR series, hope you enjoy it because I'll be doing each of the stories and hopefully make my way to the expansion once I'm done since in my stories some of my character interacts even if it not shown in the game. final note if i screw up the timeline i sorry just following what i believe is the timeline in this game. | 9385243d899c4e7384ee20a7aaa90060 | ['b7a906e0b3b14641bf12ed4a26ff807e'] | “You know the other option. Cleaning middens… begging… going to the surface” I didn’t know why Rica was so against going to the surface, the few surface dwarfs I met seemed to do quite well but then they were merchants and mercenary who had connections to humans.
“No, unless you find a way to save us all from the darkspawn and become a Paragon, we’re pretty much on Beraht’s leash for life” Rica said.
I chuckled at the notion of me becoming a Paragon, “Come on Rica, there’s no way in the Stone that I would ever become a Paragon” I said, “It wouldn’t be the first time, Gherlon the Blood-Risen was born casteless, you know before he went to the surface. And he came back and won the throne!” Rica did have a point, Gherlon had once been a casteless duster before he rose up and took the throne but that was a long time ago and the assembly and the people still viewed every casteless as a nasty bug that run around their home just waiting to be squashed.
“I know you think it’s impossible, but many Paragons have humble origins. All that matters is that the assembly recognizes their achievements. And once they get that vote, they found their own house, and are as noble as if the ancestors themselves had made it so” Rica said, she obviously had imagined me becoming a paragon, but still.
“Ya I’m sure mother would die of surprise if I became a Paragon” I said sarcastically, “Oh don’t pay attention to her, she’s just a bitter old drunk, she also said you’d never learn to walk or stop dumping in the bed, Make something of yourself just to spite her” We both laughed at that, ya I would make something of myself but first I would need to bash Beraht’s face in first just to show him I wasn’t his play toy anymore.
“I’d probably make a name for myself if the nobles would allow me to join the army, but they’d never let a dirty duster like me in” I said as I remembered the soldiers in the diamond quarter, always strutting around like they were the ancestors own personal army.
“Its sheer folly, one more way the nobles protect their status” Rica said bitterly “They say casteless soldiers are more danger to each other than to darkspawn… that it’s an insult to the smith to let us touch a fine-made weapon. Truly, they just don’t wish to insult the Warrior Caste by showing that given the same opportunities, we could lead an army just as well.” Rica said angrily, I was just as upset by the whole notion that just because we descended from the worst of dwarven criminals, that we weren’t capable of flowing or leading other dwarfs.
I gave quick snort as I crossed my arms, “It just like the nobles to think about only themselves then risk dirtying their hands by asking us for help” I said, “I have little love for the nobles, but they know—more than we ever will—what the darkspawn have taken from our kind, every noble I’ve met had a brother or nephew killed in the Deep Roads” Rica said, “Yet they let their arrogance blind them to the fact that we could help defend the city against the darkspawn”.
“Are they even trying to protect us?” I asked wondering if these pompous nobles really were trying to keep all of us safe, “Aye, they would even turn to humans for aid before us, it seems”, really they would ask humans first, noble agenda at its finest.
“There’s been talk of an alliance against the darkspawn even that the Grey Wardens have stepped up” Rica’s face seemed to light up when she spoke of the Wardens, I’d heard stories of Grey Wardens and the legion going into the Deep Roads to fight the Darkspawn, but I’d never seen a Grey Warden and I knew there was no chance for me to join them, the Warrior Caste would never let it happen.
“Ah, we don’t have time for this now, Leske must be waiting, and Beraht won’t like it if I’m late for my appointment” Rica said her voice sounded worried, I remembered the last girl would had let Beraht down and we hadn’t seen or heard from her since. “Beraht expects too much from you Rica” I said, I worried for her everyday she went out.
“You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely Field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn” Rica said “If I could… give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. And we’d all be raised up to noble caste to join the family, ’sigh’ it’s what Beraht’s betting on. That’s why he paid for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants to share the reward” Rica look scared by the prospect of Beraht still being in her life even if she gave a son to the noble she would end up with.
“You said that you had someone’s eye on you” I said, steering the conversation away from Beraht, Rica smiled and blushed a fierce shade of pink, “Yes. That is, I hope, he certainly seems…charming” I could tell she really liked this guy, “He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget.”
“So, who is he?” I leaned in while grinning, “I-I don’t want to say… in case I’m wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men is Orzammar with… someone like me.” I was confused by the last part, who had Rica attract that could possibly be important enough in Orzammar.
“Anyway, time is rusting, and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me—a hundred buttons on each sleeve!” Rica sighed, I could only imagine what these seamstresses put her through, guess I was lucky after all I could never sit through something like that.
“And Leske’s probably already outside waiting for you” Rica pointed out, “Ok, Mum” Rica laughed and then grabbed me and gave me a hug, “It’ll work out Mera, I can promise you that” Rica said.
I hugged her back, I almost wanted to never let go but we had to get back to our jobs. “I promise you Rica I’ll get us out of this, no matter what” Rica pulled back and smiled, “Come on Mera, remember what I said, ‘Never make a promise you can’t keep’” I chuckled at that as we both made our way towards the door way.
“Now, stay out of trouble. I’ll see you tonight.” Rica said as she walked off towards the seamstress, as she disappeared I made my way towards the corner where Leske and me usually met up and hoped that this job was nice and simple and that nothing would go wrong. How little did I know that it was all about to change?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> All Characters and Dialogue belong to Bioware.
**Author's Note:**
> All rights to Characters and Dialogue belong to Bioware who have created the best fantasy game I've played in a long while |
5302920047f34896816a43d9613e7a50 | ['b7c50063ccb0426c898336eb892ac6c0'] | When he gets to the entryway of the kitchen he sees his pops, at the stove making pancakes and his dad, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. They’re both still wearing their clothes from yesterday and he feels guilty he made them worry so much. He stands in the doorway for a moment before he clears his throat and they whip around to face him. He averts his gaze to the floor, not wanting to see if they look at him with pity.
Nobody says anything, instead he feels his dad grab him first, pulling him into the worlds tightest hug, his pops quickly joining the hug. They stay like that for a moment and Peter tries his hardest to hold back anymore tears. His pops is the first to pull back, handing him a bottle of water and Peter knows the typical disappointed Captain America lecture is coming. He opens the bottle and practically chugs it all.
“You really scared us Pete.” He starts, his voice is soft and Peter know he’s royally fucked up so he just nods, the tears burning hot in his eyes. “You gotta talk to us kid, if somethings wrong you can tell us.” The genuine caring in his voice is what makes him break, the tears come streaming down hot and fast.
“I know, I know. You guys were always busy and I didn’t want to be more of a burden than I am. Because I know dealing with the whole Mysterio thing is a lot for you guys and-” He cuts himself off, his voice is hoarse and broken, he hates how he sounds.
“Kid you are never a burden on us, we’re here to make sure you’re safe and comfortable. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night but if you need to talk about something, you can always come to us to talk.” His dad pulls him into another bone crushing hug and just cries into his shirt. They all stay like that until Peter stops crying.
“Eat, and tell us what’s been going on in that head of yours.” His pops says, setting a plate of chocolate pancakes down in front of Peter, with another bottle of water. He smiles up at his dads before covering the mountain of pancakes in syrup.
He tells them everything, from the nightmares that'd gotten worse over the years, to the panic attacks, and feeling like his problems might be bothersome. When he chokes up like he might start crying again, they offer reassuring words and small hugs. It feels good to finally get everything out in the open, to talk about all the things that have been bottling up inside him.
When he’s done talking and eating, they both promise to be around more. To not put so much effort into finding the people who hurt Peter and focus on actually helping Peter. They also make him promise to be more open about his feelings, and he swears not to patrol for at least a week, to take time to himself. They even set up a list of things that might trigger Peter’s anxiety, and he’s thankful that his dads care so much about him. Even if they get caught up in protecting him rather than helping him, he knows they try their best.
**Author's Note:**
> this is basically a vent fic but im proud of how it turned out! im sorry about any typos, this wasn't proofread, any and all feedback is welcomed and loved!! I was also considering maybe making a tumblr where I can post these fics and maybe take requests! | 687747c4b9c34dcdb5f6b71b028b2981 | ['b7c50063ccb0426c898336eb892ac6c0'] |
Tony’s 5 Senses
**Author's Note:**
> A partial Iron fam, post-endgame fix it fic! This is my first fix it fic, feedback is very much appreciated! I hope you like it!
The first thing he tastes is a salty, metallic combination. The kind of combination that usually comes from a heavy workout or from a nasty cold. It’s bitter and disgusting, his mouth feels too dry. Like he hasn’t had water in days, or even weeks. Swallowing hurts and somehow makes the taste of metal in his mouth worse.
The first thing he can smell is the distinctive scent of the medical area. It’s like disinfectant that shouldn’t be as strong as it is. It all smells overwhelmingly sterile. He can smell a hint of something familiar though, although he can’t fully makeout what it is, it’s familiar and comforting.
The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the starch white of the ceiling. The too bright lights on the ceiling are practically blinding. He makes a mental note that they should probably change the color of the walls and the intensity of the lights. The combination make him feel like his head is splitting open. They immediately make his head start throbbing in pain, but he can’t find the strength to move his arms to shield his eyes from the harsh lighting and bright white.
The first thing he hears is the sound of feet running. The next is the whoosh of the automatic doors opening. It’s quiet for a moment, the familiar smell from before intensifies now, he can hear quiet breathing and light sniffles. He hears someone yell but he’s too disoriented to make out what they’re saying, and then he hears the door again and someone shouts, but this time he knows who it is. “Daddy!” Is the first thing he hears, he recognises the little girl's voice and he tries to force himself to open his eyes but his eyelids feel too heavy.
The first thing he feels is the weight of a little girl throwing her arms around his upper body. He can feel how wet her cheeks are from crying and it breaks his heart. He tries to lift his right arm but it feels foreign and too heavy, so he forces himself to lift his left arm and hug her back. He can hear sniffles coming from somewhere else in the room and he forces himself to open his eyes. The bright lights come flooding in full force so he blinks to adjust. Then the door opens again and he can hear frantic breathing, like they’d run a marathon.
“Mr. Stark?” It’s a hesitant question and the voice is hoarse and tired. His eyes, finally adjusted to the light and he looks to find Peter standing next to a crying Pepper, both their eyes look like they’ve been rubbed raw from crying. He forces the smallest smile but that’s all it takes for Peter to come hug Tony’s unoccupied side.
He looks at Pepper as she comes over to them, sitting at Tony’s waist where Morgan is clinging to him like her life depends on it.
They stay like that for a while, he doesn’t even realise he’s started to cry until he feels Pepper lean over and wipe his tears away. For the first time in his life, Tony Stark knows what it feels like be wanted, loved and comforted at the same time. He feels the relief pouring off of Pepper and Peter, and he feels Morgan’s love as she excitedly bounces and talks to him. She talks to him about how Peters kept her company and how uncle Rhodey uncle Happy brought her so many cheeseburgers. She talks about how they each think they’re her favourite, even though she could never just have one favourite uncle. He smiles and responds when he can, but he mostly listens, and when she hands him a hand drawn card signed by everyone, he nearly cries.
When Pepper finally drags Morgan out of the time to go eat, he’s left with Peter who hasn’t said much, but Tony knows that he wants to say a whole lot. He hasn’t let go of Tony since he came into the room, he later learned Peter hadn’t even left the med bay for days not wanting to miss Tony waking up.
“I don’t uh, I dunno if you noticed but kinda, got you a new arm.” Is all Peter says once Morgan and Pepper are out of the room. For the first time Tony notices why his arm had felt so weird, he looks to his rights and sees what appears to be the arm of his Iron Man suit, it runs all the way up his right side, infused into his shoulder, the metal looks odd compared to his skin but it feels right. He flexes his fingers and it definitely feels odd, but he doesn’t mind it.
“I’m sorry kid.” He doesn’t need to elaborate, Peter knows why he’s apologising and before Tony can get anything else out Peter is hugging him again and crying. Tony lets himself cry as he hugs Peter. When Peter pulls away, Tony can immediately tell he’s about to launch into story mode.
“I’m really glad you’re back because so much stuff happened that I wanna tell you about! I got to meet The Falcon and I think he hates me because I wouldn’t stop singing Africa, but I think he’s cool! The Winter Soldier was there too! I didn’t even look at him while we were stuck because honestly he kinda scares me but-“ he cuts himself when he hears Tony chuckle.
“I’ve really missed you kid.” Tony pulls Peter into a quick hug before allowing him to continue his story about what had happened while Peter was gone and the few days Tony had been unconscious.
Although the room he’s in is stuffy and too bright and the bed is uncomfortable, he’s happy to be listening to Peter ramble, happy to be able to watch Morgan force her uncles to do things for her in hopes of being her “favourite best uncle.” He’s glad his family is together and safe, albeit in varying stages of hurt but they’re all alive. For the first time in his life, Tony Stark feels at peace, he feels at home surrounded by his family. |
d7650a83742b48fa97b16beedb2948cc | ['b7c7a811610a451d9d4069b08c150dec'] |
The Xenolopl - Season 5 episode 1 script, written for the "Miracle Day" convention challenge
**TORCHWOOD
** Series 5
Episode 1
**by**
**dieastra**
********************************************************************
**ACT ONE**
**FADE IN:**
**INT. TORCHWOOD HUB – JACK’S BEDROOM – NIGHT**
Jack sleeps restlessly, with apparent nightmares. His mind flashes back to the day Ianto died in his arms. He awakens with a start.
JACK
Ianto!
Jack realizes he’s awake, that it was just a dream. He blinks tears from his eyes. Feeling the weight of centuries on his shoulders, he shuffles into the bathroom and splashes cold water into his face. He freezes when he hears a noise from the shower. Someone is singing. Suddenly wide awake and fully alert, wishing he had his weapon, he pulls the shower curtain away and sees –
JACK
Ianto?!
There indeed is Ianto in all his naked glory, freshly showered and alive. Jack sits down heavily on the toilet seat.
IANTO
Jack? Is something wrong? You look like you’d seen a ghost! Are you all right?
Jack laughs bitterly.
JACK
I? Am I all right? What about you? You shouldn’t be here at all! You died in front of an alien gas tank, remember? The 456? You died in my arms, how can you have forgotten that?
Ianto is seriously worried about Jack’s mental health now. He kneels down in front of him and looks into his eyes. Jack stares ahead and does not seem to see him at all. His voice is just a whisper.
JACK
The Hub blew up, they chased us like animals and we had no idea what else to do. We wanted to scare off the 456, instead they killed hundreds of people. I tried to give you some of my life force but it was too late. And now I am going mad apparently, seeing ghosts.
Ianto stretches out a hand, carefully touching Jack’s shoulder.
IANTO
Jack! Look at me. I am not dead. I am not a ghost. We beat the 456. And the Hub did not blow up. Look around!
And finally, finally Jack takes a good look at his surroundings and realizes he is indeed in the Hub, which is humming softly like it always did. He looks back at Ianto.
JACK
Not dead? It was just a dream?
IANTO
Not dead!
Then Ianto takes Jack into his arms, and Jack buries his head in Ianto’s shoulder so he doesn’t see his tears. A very long while later Jack ends the embrace and tries for humour.
JACK
Of all the ways I imagined this to go, a bathroom never was the place for it!
Although I could get used to the view…
Ianto laughs.
IANTO
Let me put on some clothes and then let’s go somewhere nicer.
********************************************************************
**INT. TORCHWOOD HUB – MAIN AREA – MORNING**
Rhys and Gwen enter the Hub, breathless, laughing.
GWEN
And that’s another Weevil taken care off.
RHYS
Did you see his face?
GWEN
We've become quite good at Weevil catching, Mr. Williams!
RHYS
That we have, Mrs. Wi...
Gwen playfully slaps him.
RHYS
... I mean, Mrs. Cooper.
Suddenly they see Jack and Ianto.
GWEN
Are you okay, Jack?
RHYS
What happened?
Jack takes a deep breath.
JACK
I’m actually not sure. I seem to have some memories that don’t fit with reality – your reality. You need to help me to decide which things are real and which aren’t.
IANTO (QUIETLY)
He thought I was dead.
JACK
So, if you are still alive, does that mean that Tosh and Owen are too?
His face full of hope, he looks from one to the other. After Gwen and Ianto fail to answer, finally Rhys does.
RHYS (QUIETLY)
Sorry, mate.
Jack visibly calms himself and prepares for the next question.
JACK
Steven? Alice?
Gwen’s eyes fill with tears.
GWEN
I’m so sorry, Jack!
Jack refuses to show any emotion with this news and stubbornly presses on.
JACK
Do any of you know what the term Miracle Day means? Esther? Rex? How’s your father, Gwen?
GWEN
My father is well, as are my mother and my daughter. We have no idea what you are talking about, Jack. Are you sure you’re okay?
Jack puts his hands over his face for a long moment.
JACK
Yeah, I’m fine. Or will be. It’s just a bit much to take in, that’s all.
Then he visibly pulls himself together and claps his hands.
JACK
Okay, since we’re all here and life still goes on – what’s on today’s agenda?
IANTO
Are you sure? Shouldn’t you better lie down or something? Or go see a – doctor?
Jack gives him a look but is saved from replying when Gwen’s mobile phone rings.
GWEN
Hi Andy! What is it?
ANDY
Can’t say over the phone. But you better come. Quickly. You won’t believe that.
GWEN
Okay, we’re coming. Where are you?
ANDY
Bute Park, the entry near the castle. Come quickly!
The line goes dead.
JACK
What did he want?
GWEN
He didn’t say, but we should hurry.
RHYS
I’ll go home to Anwen, you guys do what you do best. Try to be home in time for dinner?
Gwen and Rhys kiss good-bye.
********************************************************************
**ACT TWO**
**EXT. BUTE PARK – DAY**
Jack, Ianto and Gwen enter the park. Gwen spots Andy in the distance.
GWEN
He’s over there. Why isn’t he coming over?
They notice Andy talking to someone who is hidden behind a thick tree. Andy waves them nearer.
ANDY
You should pay attention to your rift monitors once in a while. Haven’t you noticed anything unusual today?
Jack and Ianto exchange a look. Ianto opens his mouth to say something but Jack stares him down. Ianto closes his mouth again.
JACK
You know, every day at Torchwood is unusual. So what do you have?
Andy takes a deep breath. His eyes flicker from one to the other.
ANDY | f634acc1e6384f60b1ac4834f6fd626e | ['b7c7a811610a451d9d4069b08c150dec'] |
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1/5
Malcolm Merlyn had died of far worse things back when he used to be Jack Harkness. The arrow Oliver had stabbed through his chest rated only a 1 on a scale of 1 to 10. The death had come rather quickly and so it didn't take long for him to revive. Luckily, nobody had been around, as Oliver already had gone God-knows-where and his bodyguard had been calling the police. It had not been difficult at all to get away from that roof unseen and leave the authorities baffled about the whereabouts of his corpse.
Now he is sitting hidden in one of his many secret places, watching the TV news.
_“Tommy Merlyn, son of Malcolm Merlyn, the owner of Merlyn Global Group, is one of the victims of the heavy earthquake that hit Starling City earlier today. He died at the age of twenty-eight while helping to evacuate people from a collapsing building. Earlier this evening Moira Queen from Queen Consolidated claimed that Malcolm Merlyn had been planning an attack on parts of the city. If the earthquake was part of this attack, that would make him responsible for the death of his own son. We had so far no luck getting a statement from Mr. Merlyn…”_
Malcolm watches motionless as the newsman goes on, his emotions buried so deep down inside him that he just feels numb. Then realization starts to set in. He never will speak to his son again. He has killed his own flesh and blood. Anger and shame and regret battle inside him, heat rises up his throat. An animal-like scream bursts from his mouth, and enraged, he hits the wall with his fist, hard enough to break his wrist. He doesn’t care about it one bit. His body is good at repairing itself. His soul, on the other hand...
His ragged breath turns into quiet sobs, as he mourns yet another death that he is responsible for. One more to add to the long list.
Alison… Alex... Suzie… Estelle… John… Beth… Tosh… Owen… Clem… Ianto…, Steven… Rebecca… Vera… Angelo… Esther… and many, many other names and faces. With every one of these deaths, he had died a little more on the inside as well, until he had become hard and unforgiving.
After Ianto’s death he finally had had enough. He only caused death and destruction wherever he went, and he figured people would be better off without him. And that he would be better off without anyone ever getting close to him again. Since nobody was there anymore to point out all the good that he also had done, he had severed all ties to Earth. He had then gone wherever a man who didn’t care whether he lived or died and who didn’t ask too many questions was needed. There was always a war to be fought on one planet or another. And somewhere among all the deaths and bloodshed, he had lost his soul.
He doesn’t miss it one bit. Life is easier that way.
Not being able to sit still any longer, Malcolm starts to pace, walking circles in the small room. He tries to concentrate on what he is going to do next, but the ghosts of the past keep haunting him.
One assignment from those years still stands out in his memory, as it actually hadn’t involved a war for a change. The owner of a nuclear power station which had exploded recently and was spilling radiation into the atmosphere, had needed someone to close the holes until it was safe enough for others to join in with the sealing of the power plant. Malcolm had volunteered.
=//=//=//=//=
It had taken place in one of the last corners of the universe that still used nuclear fission, instead of any of the modern ways to generate electricity. Seldom in his travels had Malcolm seen once-modern technology in such poor condition. And now it had bitten the people living on that planet in the ass.
In the end, nobody was able to tell anymore what had gone wrong. The wrong button had been pushed at the wrong time, and all too quickly they had reached the point of no return. The coolant system was not able to deal anymore with the increasing heat of the fuel rods, and only a few hours later the meltdown had started.
While the people living nearby were being evacuated, the workers of the power plant had tried their best, but had to admit defeat in the end. Soon after they retreated, the building had exploded.
That’s when Malcolm came in. Someone had to go to the core of the plant, and seal the holes in the containment sheets, as well as the holes in the outer concrete hull. The radiation was so strong, that not even robots could be used for these tasks. They just stopped working.
Some men in protective suits accompanied Malcolm to the outer area, to show him how to work the technical equipment and to start to construct a new hull, but he needed to walk inside alone to fulfill the task. To be able to move and use his tools more freely, he hadn’t bothered with any suit. It wouldn’t have done any good against prolonged exposure anyway, and he probably would have a hard time finding one that actually fit him, as the people on this planet were much taller and thinner than him. Therefore he could feel the tingling of the radiation on his skin, which soon turned into burning.
He only managed a few steps into the facility before he died for the first time. And that’s what the next days and weeks were made of – working a bit, welding the fissures in the sheets of the reactor vessel. Dying, waking up again, working some more, dying again. Starting to fill reinforcement and concrete into the holes of the containment building. Dying again. And again. And again. |
b7f71a4e2b2f405d9c4ced94a188d60f | ['b7ff948217914cfe9424da020507079a'] | With a yell Tony bent his leg as far as he was able, trying to ignore the flare of pain shooting through his left hip as he did. JARVIS adjusted the direction and momentum as they went, and Tony went for full commitment to the bit as he pushed with all the desperation he had to tear loose. The tearing sound as the wing came apart around him, setting him free, was very momentarily a breath of fresh air, instant, flooding relief, but it didn’t last more than a second. That was all the time it took to realize that the sparking, smoking debris had pulled loose with him, and was now on a very different trajectory.
“Cap- Cap get out of there!”
“Sort of pinned down here, Tony.”
“Steve, move!”
It was a contest of what could fall fastest: him or several large pieces of broken and twisted metal. Of course, according to the laws of gravity it should have been a tie, but Tony was good at cheating on things as basic as this. Using the extra push from the thrusters, Tony sucked in one more breath and hoped this time he was doing it right, making the right decisions, taking a step with no regrets.
No time to second guess himself. He hit the ground in an aerial somersault and then was moving up again in less than half a second, and as he hit the metal again, this time from the bottom, it jolted through his spine.
“You stupid fucking—” Steve was swearing, but there wasn’t time or breath to notice that because then Tony was hitting the ground again, hard, and with a skidding, expanding impact zone. Carried by the momentum of the metal shards, Tony was vaguely conscious of hitting one of the smaller bots as he went in a tangle of limbs and a surprising amount of pain. After that, it was a little while before he registered anything except the rise and fall of his own chest.
* * * * *
“Snap out of it.”
Hey, Steve. That was Steve. Blinking, Tony tried to move and found he could, with difficulty. Both arms seemed to move under him, and one leg. The other one wasn’t as cooperative, but with a grunt Tony was able to shift that too. So – yay, four limbs. Woo.
“One of these days, Tony,” Steve muttered, and Tony became vaguely aware of the fact that he was staring with open eyes, and could only see darkness.
“…did I go blind?” he asked after a moment, because it seemed important to know.
“No. It’s just dark out, and without your suit or the car, we don’t have a light.”
“Huh.”
“Come on, get up.”
Tony had to take two tries to sit up, and when he managed he did so with a groan.
“Jesus fucking take the wheel. I could use that vodka now myself.”
There was the faint feeling of pressure - a hand on his shoulder - as Steve laughed, quiet and breathless, and Tony then turned to pick out Steve’s profile even in the dark.
“We win?”
“Yeah, but winning might be relative.”
“No one else is dead, I’ll take that.”
Reaching up to tug off his helmet, Tony tasted metal at the back of his mouth and hoped vaguely that he hadn’t knocked a tooth loose. It’d be hard to get a dentist appointment at this hour. Steve sat back a little, and Tony could still just see his outline.
“…why is there no light?”
“I think you damaged the suit, and your leg.”
The reactor embedded in the front of the suit was dark, and Tony took a long, slow breath before trying again to move the leg that had protested when he’d first tried it. Oh, yeah, definitely something up there. At least it could probably be worse.
“What about you?” he asked Steve. “You hurt?”
“No.” Steve shook his head, and Tony took a steadying breath before trying to hold where he could sort of vaguely see Steve’s eyes.
“Yeah, then why are you bleeding?”
“How can you—?” Steve started to ask, but as soon as he glanced down it became pretty apparent. Even in the dark, it was easy to see that the white of the Captain America uniform was stained a deep colour, and there were only so many guesses you needed to make.
“Genius,” Tony answered, but it was flat.
There was quiet around them for a few moments before Tony could think of what to say next.
“You think more are coming?”
“Probably. They’ll know we’re a threat now.”
“Right. Of course.”
Tony laughed, low and edgy, and he closed his eyes for a moment to replace the darkness outside with the familiar one behind his eyelids.
“We should move,” Steve suggested after a pause, and although the hysterical, possibly re-concussed part of Tony’s brain wanted to say ‘why bother?’ he managed to keep his mouth shut for once in his life.
“...okay. Help me up?”
“Yeah. Hold on.”
It took both of them, and nearly five minutes, but Tony did manage to get fully upright and somewhat mobile. His leg wasn’t going to hold much weight on its own, at least not right away, but with one arm slung around Steve’s shoulder, he was able to walk on it. Wouldn’t be fast, and wouldn’t be efficient, but he’d manage.
“So. Where to?”
“Got to find the car,” Steve answered, and it was in the same quiet, largely expressionless tone of voice.
“In the dark. Without a light.”
“Guess so.”
Tony nodded.
“Then let’s go. I don’t much feel like staying here.” | a42f6f61f4c3449fa5935616782fda42 | ['b7ff948217914cfe9424da020507079a'] | Apparently Steve’s love of stupid old things didn’t extend much to cars, though, because not thirty seconds later he was standing over a dark red Ferrari convertible, hand hovering over the hood almost as if he were giving the thing its due reverence. He’d shown the appropriate appreciation for Tony’s stable of cars, but it wasn’t exactly like they hung out a lot outside of Avengers business so there’d never really been an opportunity to properly show off his collection. Maybe next time around. He’d get it right on the retry.
“I like the colour,” Tony commented, which seemed to snap Steve out of his car-lust haze long enough for him to turn towards Tony with something like a guilty expression.
“Sorry. I’ve seen the specs on cars like these, and it’s something else.”
“Don’t be sorry, you should always properly appreciate pretty things. So, you wanna steal it?”
Steve pretended to consider for a moment, as if the answer wasn’t already a given. After a beat, though, he couldn’t stop the grin that made him look almost boyish for a moment.
“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna steal it. If you can open a door I can hot-wire.”
“Rogers I am scandalized and slightly turned on. Done deal.”
Making his way over to the car, Tony crouched down painstakingly so that JARVIS could get a better read on the lock. He didn’t imagine he’d be able to open it without breaking it, but a contained break would be better than accidentally putting a hole in the door. It might give Steve a nervous breakdown, for one.
“I have calculated the requisite force, sir,” JARVIS informed him, and Tony brought up his arm and slid back the plate that concealed a small laser for precision work. It had come in handy more than once.
The lock sizzled and cracked under the beam, and Tony stopped the instant it started to look like he was hurting the paint job, but it turned out to be a good call because when Steve tested the door it opened easily. After that he let Steve do some black magic while Tony went around to the other side and to see if he could hook up his communicator to the car’s bluetooth. It didn’t take long, because he was a genius, so by the time Steve had the car started and ready to roll, Tony was already lounging in the passenger’s side, helmet on the floor as he watched Steve with a grin.
“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”
“No we’re not—”
“It’s a pop culture reference, forget it. I’ll make you watch _Mean Girls_ another time. For now, let’s see about taking this baby for a spin, why don’t we?”
“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” Steve answered with a flash of that same grin, the one that sometimes made Tony forget that Steve was a bossy jerk-face.
Two minutes later there was a dark red Ferrari spinning rims as they bumped out of the garage and through the surrounding debris. One of the other reasons Tony had opted to do his car thieving from this particular asshole’s estate was because it was near enough major arteries and far enough from significant urban buildings that the chances of actually being able to get a car through were high. At least, higher than some of the other options. JARVIS was once again a saving grace, being able to use the satellite camera footage to act as both GPS and scout for major blockages and impassible channels.
As they pushed through minor wreckage with Steve wincing every time something dinged against the car’s fenders or wheel wells, Tony leaned back, one arm propped up on the bottom of the window, and watched New York as they carefully and painstakingly left it behind. It felt a little like looking at a graveyard, and for the briefest moment he was reminded of being seventeen and standing under an apple tree as two black coffins were lowered into dark, damp earth and someone read something meaningless from a Bible.
When they turned a corner that took the city out of his direct line of sight, Tony found himself holding his breath while grey skies rolled out before them.
* * * * *
“What’s your status?” Steve asked, eyes carefully on the road. Several frustrating hours and not enough miles later, they were somewhere south of Bridgewater.
“Could be better, but holding in,” Clint replied over the car’s speakers, voice clearer after Tony had finished adjusting the communicator. “We’ve evacuated the survivors and set up a base camp near Whistler, up in the Great White North. The mountains are giving us some cover.”
“How many people you find?” Tony asked, curious but not expecting much.
“Fifty or so. You guys find anyone else? We might be able to send a pick-up team.”
“Negative.” Steve’s voice was steady, and he turned the wheel to avoid another car that had been dashed across the road. “None so far, although I wouldn’t be surprised if there are clusters in the smaller towns.”
“If we can spare the people we’ll try to get to them,” Clint promised. “We think we found Banner, but there’s no way to retrieve him.”
“Where?” Tony asked, leaning forward a little.
“Word is there’s someone tearing up the southern part of Russia, and I’d be willing to lay my money on him.”
“Hundred bucks,” Tony quickly threw back, getting a quick flicker of eyes his way from Steve. Whatever, wasn’t like it mattered now.
“A hundred? Come on, Stark. Let’s say a hundred million.”
“Sure, why not?” Sitting back again, Tony shook his head. “I’m excited to see you try to collect.”
“Focus, please,” Steve cut in, and Tony exhaled a laugh that wasn’t really that good-humoured. “Clint, so far as we’ve been able to tell, they’re robots.”
“Yeah, we’ve figured that out too. No one’s found anything actually alive yet.” |
102cc9afdb894727ae0aba326ee82922 | ['b8146b2cc5ce4820b8ce4fb9bbb2e73a'] | He sighed again as he turned off the com, then mentally scolded himself. It was a coping mechanism but also far to obvious to anyone paying close enough attention. He wasn't sure where he'd picked up the habit but needed to break it. Blaster fire had him automatically reaching for his lightsaber. Only to look over and see a group of shiny's when you spent enough time around clones you picked up there vernacular, shooting at nothing. Guns pointed up in the air whooping and hollering at something unknown to him. He clipped the still unlit saber back into his belt, nerves fried.
* * *
Night had almost fallen as Rex barked out orders to the 501st. Head swimming trying to keep everything straight as he was bombarded with a stream of, damage reports, tactical updates, casualty lists..... With the two Jedi in command of his battalion both currently missing. He was using that word very lightly as the only thing he currently knew is that they weren't where he was. But with both of them missing the chain of command on the ground fell to him. While command of the ships fell to the captain of the _Resolute._ Force he hoped they got Skywalker back. For all his respect for Commander Tano she was far from ready for the big chair. It would most likely still be a few years still before the order promoted her Knight. If Skywalker didn't come back they would be assigned a new General. Most of the squadron would probably be split up.
As a Captain, Rex had spent a lot of time working closely with the Jedi. Most of them were, at heart, good. They genuinely wanted to protect life. Protect peace as the Jedi were supposed to do. The problem came when they failed to recognize that clones also fell into that category. Or when war, as it had a way of doing to even the Jedi, skewed their perceptions of what they were protecting. Basic graces, compassion, optimism, forgiveness; sometimes they couldn't be afforded. But sometimes they could. When life, and others lives, becomes purely a ledge of profit and loss ideals, morality, tended to start to slip. There's no reason to anything. All you have are pluses and minuses. He had worked closely with enough Jedi to know not to trust them blindly. A lesson he had leaned rather harshly at the hand of Pong Krell. Mostly his fears were unfounded, he still frowned at the thought.
But opposed to what the holonet seemed to think the universe did not actually revolve around General Skywalker. Pulling himself out of that train of thought Rex turned to Kix to ask him for the latest update on casualty numbers. Except Kix wasn't there anymore. He was standing about 10 feet to the left blaster drawn. Staring at nothing, face scrunched up like he was in pain.
"Kix. Kix snap out of it." Rex reached out hesitantly and put a hand on his shoulder. Nothing changed. Then Kix started visibly shaking and Rex saw it. The figure blended almost perfectly into the night. If she hadn't moved he might never have noticed. But her stride certainly didn't speak of someone trying not to get noticed. By now every blaster in sight was raised. Except Kix's was pointed the wrong way.
"Take than gun", Ventress said "and put it to your head." She spoke slowly. Almost as if it was meant to be sensual. But Rex couldn't imagine anything coming from her ever seeming sensual. She was completely bald. Figure was hard and lean. Maybe that could have been appealing in some other species but on her it just looked sickly. Black painted lips moved from a tight frown to leer as Kix obeyed shaking even more as his arm moved without his consent.
"Go ahead. He'll be happy to die for the 501st. And I'll get to kill you."
"Don't worry clone. I don't have any reason to hurt him he's just insurance. Besides, even if you tried what are the odds you could kill me without your Jedi." Several of the men close enough to hear the conversation scowled there guns never wavered but it was written on there faces. If the bounty hunter had captured Skywalker..... But there was no way she should have known about Ahsoka. "No it wasn't me who captured him. I'm here because someone payed me to deliver a message." Ventress held out a box in her hand and placed it on the ground backing away slowly. When she got far enough she launched back. Gone almost instantly in the dark of the unsecured wreckage they were sifting through. A few seconds later the blaster dropped from Kix's head and he visibly tried to regain control of his heart rate.
There was a wet sucking sound a one of the clones attempted to unstick his boot from the mud but Rex held his hand up. Stalling anyone who was thinking of getting close to the thing that was probably an IED. He crouched down examining the metal as much as he could without moving any closer and potentially setting it off.
"Someone get me a scanner." a minute later the clone that had run off reappeared with the device. Staring at it intently for a moment with an increasing look of confusion.
"It's just a box sir. There's something inside it but as far as this scanner can tell, its harmless."
The scanners would find anything from bio-weapons to light stun shielding. Satisfied, and ignoring Kix's objection, he walked up opened tried to open the lid. A little to his surprise it opened easily with nothing but a simple latch keeping it closed. But now he understood why someone had payed Asajj Ventress to deliver it. _Of course the scanner would never have picked that up_. His jaw clenched. _Kriffing hells._ Apparently the universe did revolve around General Skywalker. | 3de895f0d88d4b769317b9210327ceea | ['b8146b2cc5ce4820b8ce4fb9bbb2e73a'] | Rex knew his General pretty dammed well. And he knew that look is his eye. But the hapless noob clone beside him didn’t even have the sense to think, oh shit. Rex would blame himself for this later. But rite now he didn’t have time to do anything but duck as Skywalker jumped straight into a squad of battle droids. He dispatched them and took off running across the field making it a good 50 feet before tucking into a roll behind a busted tree trunk to dodge a volley. He jumped straight on top of the god dammed tank. Tano grabbed Rex and pulled him down. He wasn’t sure why until the tank went up a couple of seconds later. The explosion nearly knocking him over. He caught flashes of blue above him. Then nothing. Then a seppie ship dropped out of the sky its downward slant sending it straight into a battalion of Clankers. Rex kept firing in an effort to thin down the battle droids. He could seen the lightsaber dimly through the rain. On the ground cutting its way through the seppies. Until he couldn’t. Commander Tano froze; her expression didn’t change one bit. It was like someone had just hit the pause button. A blaster bolt caught her shoulder and Rex reached to catch her fall.
* * *
Earlier that day.....
General Skywalker walked the camp with Ahsoka and Rex by his side. Weaving through the small rooms and narrow stone walls not really big enough for two people to walk side by side. Giving comfort and encouraging words where they could. The men were in a desperate state and they knew it. From the reports and what the force told him; the 212th was worse condition. They had taken a hard beating from constant attacks along the boarders, meant weaken and break through there defenses. The battalion had been completely blockaded from the incoming supply shipments for longer than the 501st had. The clones discipline was incredible, but not perfect. They would start cracking eventually. As was evidence in his own battalion as a fight broke out not 20 yards away from him. The two men completely oblivious to the presence of there commanding officers.
Rex glanced at his General for permission before picking up a rock and hurling it a said clones. A gunshot would have got there attention but also set off every alarm there was. They broke away from each other one of them turning ready to lash out at whoever had dared to interrupt their fight. He stopped cold when he Skywalker. Frozen in place as his eyes did a dance between the three of them.
“Is there a problem here gentlemen?” Anakin asked. Voice hard and his brow arched in condescending sarcasm. Fighting was fine when they were safely anonymous in hyperspace. In the protection of a fleet with state of the art medical. Here it was just sloppy. The clones dammed well knew that and Anakin made no attempt to hide his exasperation.
“I'm sorry sir its just....” He seemed to think better of it and shut his mouth standing at attention instead.
“Go on.” Anakin insisted; walking around the clone with a calculating scan.
“Well, it just...,” he stammered “Its just that that was my sandwich sir!” It came out as an indignant sputter.
Ahsoka started laughing behind Anakin. The clone looked thoroughly humiliated so he didn’t stop her. This was ridiculous and the more he could imprint mortification onto said clone the better. “Rex. What do you think is an appropriate disciplinary action in this situation?”
The standard would be 3 weeks extra PT as soon as the mission was over. But he didn’t think Skywalker was looking for the standard answer. “A month garbage detail sir..... and a month 4am patrol.” Rex watched the other clone face carefully. He didn’t know the clones name personally, but he had overheard a conversation the other day about a hatred of early morning patrols. Ahsoka started laughing harder and Rex glances at her with a fond look. Now Skywalker looked like he was on the verge of dropping the annoyance, that the Captain suspected was a ruse to begin with, in favor of cracking up as well.
“Make it so. Both of them.” he ordered. Surveying the two clones and glaring at the one in the back who had avoided most of the heat.
Anakin almost paused for a second as they turned away. A frown momentarily forming on his face. Had that been the ideal thing to do? It would probably be effective, but everyone was cracking a the seems. He knew under this kind of stress sometimes the smallest thing could, no matter how ridiculous they may be, set someone off. They would finally just snap. But he couldn’t afford to be to kind. Their had a war to win after all. And war was never kind.
As they continued their walk the amusement quickly fell from everyone’s faces. Ahsoka surveyed the men. Some slouched, huddling for warmth against the rain. Others scrambled to get work done. Grim looks of exhaustion set on there faces. Her Master looked like he was ready to collapse. Face pale and heavy bags drawn under his eyes. Some of the usual energy had been drained out of him and he moved with the same determined exhaustion as the soldiers. During the last bombardment he took a piece of shrapnel to the arm. But there running low on medical supplies and he refused to get it looked at. Stemming the bleeding with an impromptu bandage. “Master do.....”
She never got to finish the sentence as the alarms blared. The ground trembling with the first explosions as the camp was thrown into scarcely ordered chaos.
* * *
_Flashback...._ |
f902540830ec4ec896e0f837365277c1 | ['b81f570cc23446c19018858b33a6ada3'] | The girl, however, had _green_ hair, which appeared to be perfectly natural, given her eyebrows matched. How… intriguing. The first thing she did after disembarking was growl, then throw herself at Pugsley who yelped, and bite him, and then throw herself at David and bite _him_.
David screamed.
Pugsley did not. He did, however, grow concernedly besotted-looking.
The girl shook herself, then playfully punched the tall boy in the shoulder, knocking him back a few feet, and fist-bumping Max.
“Hey, Max, what’s up? Oh,” she turned to David who was still nursing his bleeding hand, and Pugsley who was gaping. “Sorry about the bite. Establishing dominance, you know how it is.” She frowned up at David. “David, are you _still_ crying? Get over it, I’m more alpha than you!”
Max nodded. “Nikki. Neil. Finally, some sane company.” He glanced over at the Addams siblings. “Well. I don’t know how sane you two are yet, but given you’re at this camp, I’m gonna go with not all that sane. No one else seems to be.”
“Uh, Nikki- I’m pretty sure he’s crying because you bit him so hard he’s bleeding.” Neil added.
Max eyed David contemplatively, edging away from his excessive tears. “Hey David, you have had your rabies shot, right? You know Nikki’s going to bite you again tomorrow, and who knows what’s been in her mouth.”
Tearily, David nodded. “Uh-huh. Hey kids-” he visibly forced a smile. “Why don’t you three and Wednesday and Pugsley here get to know each other while I go find Gwen and the first-aid kit?”
The three camp veterans turned to look at the Addams, more or less all at once. Pugsley didn’t seem to notice, too intent on aiming his blowgun at a man with a hook for a hand creeping up on them in the bushes.
Wednesday merely raised an eyebrow. She knew it was not as elegant as her mother’s, but she hoped that with time she would grow into it.
“So.” Max said, rocking back on his heels. “What did you do for your parents to toss you to this shit-hole?”
“They’re going on another honeymoon.” Pugsley said, answering Max.
Nikki, meanwhile, was eying up Wednesday’s hands contemplatively.
“If you bite me, I will find some dentistry pliers and pull every single last tooth out of your head, one by one, as you writhe and scream, begging for mercy.”
Nikki stopped inching forward, raising her hands defensively and stepping back. “Whoa! What’d ya even _do_ with my teeth, anyway?”
Wednesday said to Nikki, “Make a necklace.” before turning to Max to say, “We burnt our last summer camp to the ground, so Mother and Father couldn't send us back there anyway.”
Nikki’s eyes turned wide and round, and even Max looked begrudgingly impressed. “You burnt your last summer camp to the ground!? That’s _awesome!_ ” He then coughed and looked a little embarrassed at himself. “I mean, that’s cool, I guess. We set this place on fire too, but that didn’t close it down at all, which was disappointing.”
“What’d the camp do to you?” Neil asked, eyes narrowed and hands held defensively in front of his chest.
Wednesday turned dead eyes onto the boy. “They tried making us sing ‘Kumbaya’ with them. Over. And over. Again.”
Pugsley added, “And they made me dress as a Turkey for a Thanksgiving play they wrote and made us perform in mid-August.”
“The stupid play the counselors wrote promoted white supremacy and the white-washing of history. They prevented us from escaping Camp Chippewa and saving our uncle from the horrors of matrimony with a woman who only wanted to marry him so she could kill him and inherit his fortune. That wasn’t the worst of it though. Mother told me she decorated her mansion in pastels.” said Wednesday.
“They locked us in the ‘harmony hut’ and made us watch happy movies. All. Day. Long.” Pugsley shuddered, lost in the bad memories.
Max eyed Wednesday suspiciously. “What did you do to them?”
Wednesday smiled, for a given value of the word ‘smile’.
“Burned them at the stake.”
“Wicked!” Nikki gasped.
Neil’s whiny voice interrupted. “Did you _really_ burn them at the stake? I feel like that would have made the news, and I haven’t heard of anything like that.”
“They survived, unfortunately.” Wednesday said.
“How?!” asked Nikki.
Wednesday frowned, and deigned to answer, so it was Pugsley who told them glumly, how the Chippewa camp counselors survived. “The fire department showed up and put them out. We almost got arrested, but Mother and Father showed up first.”
“Awesome.” breathed Nikki, starry-eyed.
Max scoffed. “That’s nothing, you should hear half of what we got up to at this shitty place last year.”
Wednesday did not smile, since she was not the type to smile, but something about her did seem unsettlingly pleased. “That sounds like a challenge.”
An answering glint rose in Max’s green eyes. “You’re on.”
It was the beginning of one hell of a summer.
**Author's Note:**
> Come visit me at my tumblr, LINK! | 33f26fdca22043378d9323066e44b843 | ['b81f570cc23446c19018858b33a6ada3'] | "Fine, 'mundane', but like, he's not totally nor- mundane, is he? He's part of a secret society 'n all. Plus he's got a stuffed dog in his loo, that's not normal at all, is it?"
Morticia has to surpress a smile as she said, "I wouldn't know. If you're certain, then the only thing for it is to begin. Where exactly in Kentucky can we find this man, whoever he is?"
Eggsy clearly startles. "Oh, right. Well, his name's Harry Hart, an' you can find him..."
-
Morticia would have liked to join Lurch and Gomez on their trip to gather up Harry Hart's mortal coil, but she was already deep into preparations for the ritual with Grandmama and had no time to spare.
She's just as terribly excited as Wednesday. Finally, she'll get to meet her darling _spy_ nephew in person! He's made so much of himself, the dear boy, and she can't wait to see him in person to let him know how proud of him they are. Why, they hadn't had a spy in the family since 1943! Officially, that is.
Better late than never, and it's going to be through such _auspicious_ circumstances to meet her nephew in person as a Great Work cast in tandem across an entire ocean, too. She couldn't be more proud.
-
Eggsy is delightful when she finally gets to meet him in person, so handsome and capable of excessive, glorious violence, taking it to a height few manage to achieve in this more modern age.
Of course he is, he's an Addams. |
5b714952dad54f1e95fbfff72b4210a8 | ['b8212a6dbe0e4430839fa1a659a3bfd1'] |
1. The one where he loses hope
**Author's Note:**
> Hello, I'm new here :) This is the first chapter of my story 'A new heart', it'll be multichaptered and I have already written it until the fourth.
> The first word 'Hoofdstuk' is dutch for chapter. Dutch is my native language so as you can guess, English isn't. I'm trying my hardest to give you a story with as less mistakes in it as I can, if you do find some, feel free to let me know.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sasuke loses the one he holds dearest.
**Hoofdstuk 1**
**The one where he loses hope.
**
A long beep tone filled the silence. The three persons outside the room kept quiet as the sound continued. Tears fell over cheeks but not a single sob was made. The sound kept going, it seemed to be dancing around the room, daring them to make it stop and laughing when it realized it couldn't be stopped. To the boy that was looking through the glass, trying to catch a glimpse of the person inside, it sounded like a silent scream. The last agonized words of the one he loved most, the words that were lost, the words he longed after but knew he would never hear again. They still seemed to be formed on her lips, the silent whisper only he noticed. Her final 'I love you' before she died.
Sasuke did feel the hand on his shoulder, he really heard everybody call his name. The raven haired boy just chose to ignore it. His gaze was firmly stuck to a pale face. He didn't move it down her body, he didn't look around the cold room he was sitting in, his eyes were glued to the closed ones of the woman lying on the bed. Only 2 hours ago, he made her a promise. The memory was still fresh in his head, he was replaying it over and over and over. Her last living moment. He mentally shook that thought away. No, she wasn't dead. She would wake up in a few minutes, she would flutter those brilliant eyes open and the first thing she would see was him. Because he promised her that he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't leave without her. In the distant he heard voices, they were talking about him. “Just let him be... a few minutes... he'll shake it off ...” He shut them out again. His hand was still gripping onto hers tightly. He didn’t want to let go, not yet. The hand of the woman was so cold and colorless. He replayed the memory again, analyzing every word and sentence she said, some of them he just didn't understand. He couldn't wrap his mind around them, they had sounded like goodbye, like she had already given up.
“ _Yuripp_ _e,” He stopped when a pale finger was put on his lips. “Sasuke, let me talk for a moment, okay?” She waited for a moment letting the boy in front of her control his surprise. “Sasuke, remember the time in the woods? That time you took me to the river and we just sat there the whole day?” He nodded with a confused look on his face. “Remember what I told you then?” He seemed to think about it for a moment before finally realizing it. “Yurippe no, I made you a promise that same day, remember? I promised you that I would never leave you, no matter what.” Yurippe smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek, effectively calming him down. “I remember, Sasuke. But you know what the odds are of me surviving this surgery.” He was shaking his head, tears threatening to escape. Yurippe smiled again and took his hands in hers pulling him closer, his head falling on her chest. “Another thing Sasuke, and I need you to promise me this.” When she felt him nod she wrapped her arms around him and continued. “Can you hear my heart beating?” Another nod. “It's beating for me now, to keep me alive, to let me live. But … when I'm no longer here, I want it to beat for someone else.” She felt him stiffen under her arms. “Sasuke, I need you to promise me that you will do everything you can to save someone else's life with my heart.”_
Sasuke once again focused his eyes on Yurippe, this time he took a moment to really look at her. Long black hair was gently framing her face, heavily contrasting her pale skin. Her eyes were closed letting the dark eyelashes tickle her face and her mouth was slightly open taking soft breaths. It looked like she was sleeping but Sasuke new that she wouldn't wake up this time. Sure, she was breathing and her heart was still beating but nothing of that mattered if her brain didn't function. In fact, she wasn't breathing at all, the machines made her do it. About an hour ago the doctor explained everything, what went wrong, the machines and the possibilities. He had given her parents a choice, keep her alive for a few other days with the hope she would wake up although that was a chance of less than 1% or organ donation. He had said her body was in perfect condition and that she would save lives if they agreed. Then he had left, 'To give you some time.' his words were. Sasuke already knew his decision, actually, he knew the decision was already made for him. Yurippe's voice flashed through his head, _'I want it to beat for someone else.'_ she had decided long ago and who was he to deny her this last wish?
“I choose organ donation.” A soft shuffle was heard beside him. “Sasuke,” A woman's voice. “Sweetie, what did you say?” | a186dd92e3f44c3d94bd4b6580c8f72b | ['b8212a6dbe0e4430839fa1a659a3bfd1'] |
Snippets
**Author's Note:**
> This will be little snippets of how the relationship will form. If you like it let me know and I'll work on some more. I just thought that since this fandom has so few stories it could use some more. Barry/Game Grumps crew, if you ever read this, I'm sorry, I promise you there's no smut in this, please don't read this.
>
> Have fun! Codaline.
You could perfectly remember the day you met Barry, the love of your life. Although, at that point, you weren’t completely ready to admit that. Blame it on commitment issues, troubling past relationships or maybe just you (and him) being stupidly shy, you danced around each other for a few more months after that. Either annoying your friends or -and this was the more probable theory- they found it hilarious. (If not a bit pitiful.)
As Brian’s little sister you’d already heard a lot about the grumps. You’d seen Dan a lot over the years and you and him really got along well. Brian had brought you along to the studio one day and there you met everybody.
“Brian, are you sure this is a good idea, I really don’t want to be bother.” You were nervous. You were about to crash the grumps studio, because your stupid older brother thought it was a good idea and you felt foolish for going along with it.
"[Y/N] seriously, this is what, he twelfth time you asked me this?” He took his eyes of the road to give me an annoyed look. “I don’t get why you are this nervous.”
“I don’t get it either.” You admitted. “I just don’t like coming to places uninvited.” You kept your gaze on your lap.
“You really have nothing to worry about, they have wanted to meet you for a while now.” He said while stopping in front of the studio. “Really?”
“Yeah, Dan mentions you a lot.” You smiled at that, you and Dan really got along. “All right, let’s do this then, can’t back out now, don’t have anywhere to go anyway.”
Brian gifted you with a smirk, shook his head and exited the car.
Suzy was the first one you met. She was in the kitchen and the moment she saw you her smiled widened. “Brian, did you finally bring her?” Suzy looked really pretty, you immediatly felt selfconscious of you own lazy ponytail and no make-up in the weekend ritual. Dear God, couldn’t you have made one exception. You thoughts were halted when you realised Suzy was standing right in front of you. “Hi, I’m Suzy. It’s nice to finally meet you [Y/N], Dan and Brian have told us so much about you it feels like were allready friends.” Her smile was sweet and comforting, you felt more at ease with every second.
“It’s really nice to meet you too, I’m sorry Brian dragged me here uninvited.” The only response you got to that was laughter so you just smiled back and let the uneasyness go. Meeting the rest was a blur. Arin was funny, Kevin was nice and Dan gave you that hug where he lifts you up a bit so your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. It was when he let you go that he introduced you to Barry.
“He’s probably working since it’s still early, so we’ll find him in the grump room.” Completely feeling at home with Dan and Brian next to you, you followed them to a large room with several desks next to each other. Barry was working dilligently on one of them, headphones on. Dan had to pet him on the shoulder for him to notice them. This made you nervous again, you really didn’t want to be disturbing someone while they were working. But when he turned around you barely heard him say: “Oh hey guys, who’s this?” You probably fell in love with him there. At least a little bit. He smiled at you adorably and once again you cursed your lack of make up because in a few seconds you would be as red as a tomato. Fortunatly you didn’t have to answer, Brian did it for you. “This is my little sister, [Y/N].” He gave you a hard push so I stumbled forward and when you looked back he gave you a confused look. He probably thought it was strange you suddenly resembled a tomato. Dear mother of God, Barry probably thought the same thing. You gave him a little wave nonetheless and forced out a small ‘hi’.
“So, do you also have a PHD?” And with one sentence he made you feel comfortable again, you gave him an amused chuckle and shook your head. “No, I don’t actually, Besides I’m not even 25.”
“She’s going to get one though, she’s brilliant.” Ah yes, her dear older brother had to make sure she would stay tomato-red for all eternity.
“Wauw, you really must be if even Brian admits it.”
Yes, you’d just have to live with the redness from now on. It will never fade. You snapped out of your emotional breakdown when you saw what was behind Barry. “Oh, are you editing a grump episode?” Barry took a look behind his shoulder as of to check what he was doing before you three interupted. When you thought that however you looked around and your two companions were missing.
“Yeah I am actually. They’re doing portal at the moment.” You nodded absently. “Where are Brian and Danny?” Barry gave you an amused smile. “I guess you really were spacing out for a moment, they said they were going to get someting toe at.” You just nodded and looked at the door, not sure what to do.
“If you want you can stay here, I’m not sure how much fun it is to watch me do this, but uhm” He scratched his beard and gave you a small grin. You didn’t even have to think about it. It was like the grin could control you. ‘Yes Barry’s smile, make me dance like a monkey and I’ll still act like I enjoy it.’ You grabbed a chair from one of the other desks and made yourself comfortable next to Barry.
“So, talk me through Danny’s horrible sex jokes.” |
a2bc96f6bde240be94dbe348b58f73dd | ['b82437a4ba6f4ed18471e2766eba56b1'] |
1. The Challenge
**Author's Note:**
> First story ever. So feedback is nice.
>
> This was a fill for a NorseKink post, but it kind of got away from me.
>
> Enjoy~
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Unit One: Battle of the Garden
Loki lay belly-down in the grass. His mother's garden was always breezy and welcoming. The grass soft and flowers perfumed. The idle place to curl up and read.
“Hey, Loki. Did you find that smoke spell yet?” Amora hadn't looked up from the red, brick of a book she was reading out of.
Okay, maybe it wasn't pleasure reading, more like Seidr practice, but the garden was still a wonderful place to be secluded enough to puzzle out spells and practice forms. This place was off limits to most people and didn't hold much interest to others, at least to the type of others Loki wants to avoid.
“Yes, but I am still reading through it.” Loki told her. Amora perked up and shuffled forward, her forgotten book nearly falling off her lap in her new interest in Loki's spell, until she crowded next to Loki, reading the spell from her new vantage point smushed up against him. Loki grunted, but didn't really care as much as he put on. Amora's lack of personal space had ceased to bug him centuries ago.
Attention torn from his book, Loki looked around at the sorted group of people that fluttered about him. Two kids, one strongly build girl, tall and sturdy, the other, a young boy with long hair and a thin body, sparred with sticks brandished against one and other. Angrboda and Bladr respectively. The sounds of their grunts and huffs and wood clanking against wood was the loudest thing in the garden, only rivaled by the voices of Sigyn and Svadilfari. The two of them sit back-to-back in a small nest of flowers. Svadilfari twisted a long piece of grass between his teeth while Sigyn braided a garland of flowers. Glut, a gangly girl to have not quite grown into her own body yet, lay on her back in a patch of clover, pushing herself in a vigorous exercise. Lastly, there was Lorelei, who was leaning against the tree that shaded the lot of them from the noonday sun, memorizing and writing scrolls for her history tutor, looking like for all the nine realms she'd rather be up with Loki and Amora and their magic books.
“Ha!” Baldr cheered as he finally knocked Angrboda's stick away from swinging at him, not quite out of her hands, but enough to make her fumble. He got in a good throu-wack! against her shoulder. “Take that!”
Angrboda's eyes narrowed, she didn't like being bested, but Baldr's smile was so brilliant, she found the strength to let it go. She smirked at him and poked him in the stomach during his little victory spill. He doubled over, but mostly in show.
“Hey?” He asked. “I've been thinking, and I think that maybe... maybe I should start training with two swords.”
Angrboda raised her eyebrows. “Two swords?” She echoed. Baldr nodded. It wasn't too bad of an idea. She would admit that Baldr was strong, strong enough to wield two swords. It would be a good idea to train to use a sword in his right hand rather than just rely on the sword in his dominate left hand, since most warriors do fight right-handedly. He also had that nasty habit of using his unarmed hand to block or swing about unnecessarily, itching for something. Angrboda had suggested a gauntlet before, but Baldr had been unsatisfied with it, saying that it threw his balance off. Another sword then. Perhaps that would work. It would only make Baldr all the more dangerous.
“Sure.” Angrboda said, shrugging. “Why not.”
Baldr's eyes lit up, no doubt reassured now that he had someone else's agreement in his idea, even if it was as vague as Angrboda's was. She picked up another one of their sparring sticks, and tossed it to Baldr, who tried to catch it in his right hand and failed miserably. Angrboda clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You will have to be better than that.”
Baldr nodded and picked up the stick. They stood off again and started swinging.
“I still think it is ridiculous.” Sigyn complained, weaving a green lily into her garland. “I have been dealing with it for centuries and I still find it so ridiculous.”
Svadilfari shrugged. “Nothing you can really do. Things are different because of it, but I do not, and never will, regret becoming his friend.”
“Me neither.” Sigyn said fiercely. “I just sometimes wish he was not a prince.”
“Do not wish for things like that. If that were to come true everything would change.”
“You are right.” She pushed against him playfully with her shoulders. “You are always right.” She grew quiet for a moment, fiddling with her flowers. “I just hate being the center of attention and gossip. I can not make a trip to the market without everyone knowing about it by nightfall.”
“Is it really that bad? I understand your disdain for a lack of privacy, but is it really that bad?”
Sigyn stopped and thought, this was why she liked to talk to Svadilfari, he could always make her think things through, question things until she came to a more rounded conclusion. Svadilfari made a good point. | cfd57e7596bf4dc8b3764064cffa58d8 | ['b82437a4ba6f4ed18471e2766eba56b1'] | “Sojiro!” Takuya called, raising from his seat to meet him half way into the alcove. “I haven't seen you all day. Been hiding under a rock?” The too men shook hands, sort of. It was more like Takuya clasped Sojiro's forearm and squeeze fondly, the other doing so back a bit more half-heartedly.
Hanzo has always been puzzled by his father's and Takuya's relationship. First off, Takuya was the only man Hanzo has ever, /ever/, seen that wasn't scared to death by Sojiro. In fact, he seemed comfortable around him. Could hold every day conversations with him and offer his advice on things. What was more though, was the amount of trust Sojiro placed in Takuya. Takuya was allowed to be alone with Mother, could sit at the family table for meals, and took care of a number of things, both in the world Hanzo knows and the world he's inheriting. If anyone had a voice of reason to Sojiro, it was Takuya. It made no sense whatsoever.
“I have been busy,” Sojiro tells Takuya, “and there is still much to do. Accompany me back to my office?” He phrased it as a question, but it was not a question.
“Sure,” Takuya nodded, “Murasaki,” Mother tilted her head to show that she was listening, “you all set here? Need anything before I lock myself in for the rest of the foreseeable future?”
Murasaki smile a little smile. “No, I am fine. Thank you.” Despite her demur appearance, Hanzo could see how she held Genji, just a breath away from hugging him too hard. Sojiro always made her so nervous.
Genji didn't seem to mind his mother's deathgrip, he was staring at Sojiro was a mix of awe, fear, and confusion. It was always the look he gave his father.
Hanzo looked from his mother and brother to his pail then finally to his father. His breath caught, as he found that his father was already looking at him. They made eye contact.
“How did the scavenger hunt go?” Sojiro glance at his pail and all the items scattered around. His voice sounded... interested, and Hanzo was worried about that. Sojiro only took interest in things that could benefit him. Why was he interested in one of his and Genji's games? What could he gain from this? “Did you get all the other items on your list?
“No,” Hanzo took a breath to steady himself, yet still had a hard time keeping eye contact. “I missed one.”
“Which one?”
“ 'Something blue'.” Hanzo's voice was bitter. “They said I needed 'something blue' and I couldn't find anything blue.” He wanted to explain this so badly, that he wasn't being incompetent, it was just an impossible item to find.
“Blue?” Sojiro pauses then pulls something out of the inside pocket of his jacket. At first Hanzo thought it might be a gun, but it was too small. It was something wrapped in a handkerchief of beautiful colors, sky blues, royal blues, bright blues, and white.
That was very blue. Was Sojiro going to give him that for the scavenger hunt? No, couldn't be, Sojiro wouldn't give him a gift.
He wasn't completely wrong. He wasn't getting the handkerchief. Instead Sojiro unwrapped the fabric to reveal something else entirely, something far more beautiful. A necklace. He held it by the cord so Hanzo could see the pendant clearly. It was a deep sapphire stone, about an inch and a half in diameter and carved ever so elegantly and with much care into the shape of a dragon. It's eyes were emeralds and its scales and features were lined in gold. It was absolutely stunning. Hanzo stared at it with awe.
When all Hanzo did was look, Sojiro lightly shook the necklace making the dragon bounce, it's eyes gleaming with the shift in light. “Aren't you going to take it?” His words confused everyone in the room, Hanzo could tell because of the silence, but he himself kept staring at the dragon.
“That's for me?” He asked, a bit breathless. He wanted to hope so badly that it was his, but a big part of him was telling him to not bet on it, it could be some joke.
“Yes.” Sojiro watch him with unreadable eyes. Slowly, as if his joints had rusted shut, Hanzo shifted closer, closer, close enough to reach out, expecting any minute for Sojiro to tell him to stop, and finally took the necklace. He stared at it in his hands, running his fingers over the dragon preciously. “There, now you have 'something blue'.”
“Thank you so much, Father.” Hanzo gave a short bow. He couldn't believe this. He had just gotten a gift from his father. Sojiro barely does birthdays, let alone random acts of kindness. The idea that this was a trick occurred to him, but he couldn't see how a necklace could harm him. He was relishing in the positive attention right now. It was rare he got this.
“This family has been associated with dragons for millenia.” Sojiro tells him. Hanzo knew this. The dragon was on the family crest. Him and Genji used to play pretend with dragons when younger. “It's only fitting that my oldest son has a piece to carry, to remind him of his family.” Sojiro raises his hands, gently twisting the ring on his right hand ring finger. The red dragon ring gleamed wonderfully in the sun. “As is tradition.”
Starring, Hanzo felt a warmth blossom in his chest. His father may make him take advanced classes, both in mind and body, he may ridicule him and do things to scare or trick him, but obviously his father still loved him. “Thank you so much. I'll always wear it. I'll never forget my family.” Hanzo dropped his head and smiled to the ground. |
2ef8988a3339498295fb8565f5db6eec | ['b826654eef014b698542a2c1ffc33c3b'] |
Morning Wood
Chasing. Faster and faster the demons ran, Lethos only managing to outrun them due to her incredible speed. She pressed on, knowing full well the consequences if she got caught. The things that they'd do to her, dear god, it horrified her. She saw a light just in front of her, but she seemed to be getting slower and slower, as if she were running through water. Very, very clear water that she could breathe in. She inched ever forward as the demons kept their pace. Almost, almost, just a little further and maybe she could make it. All she needed was just one good stretch but the light seemed to be getting further away the closer she got! She turned around to see the demon's progress only to see a blinding flash of darkness. She saw nothing, and could only feel the water she was moving through slowly get warmer and warmer, as the demons dragged her further and further down into what she assumed was going to be hell. She felt the warm water around her head slowly dissipate, along with some around her hands and feet. The 'water' also seemed excessively plant-like in quality, as if it were hand grown by someone with magic nature powers. Something soft began to lift up her neck, and everything just felt right in the world for a few moments, then the light that had abandoned her at that crucial juncture came crawling back to her eyes, slowly yet surely making it's way to her before finally, she woke up.
There were no demons, no darkness, and absolutely no more running. There was, however, a wooden ceiling enveloped by light directly in front of Lethos, which made her comfortable in her soft, plant bed under her soft, plant blanket laying next to her soft, plant boyfriend. Except, he didn't seem very soft at the moment, judging by the tent that was holding up his plant blanket. Lethos thought that after the hard night's rest she just had, she deserved a break from the turmoil of dreaming. She slowly moved herself to a comfortable position with her head resting above her bed-mate's 'tent' all the while being careful not to make a sound. Anxious to enjoy her first meal of the day, She slowly pulled back the covers to reveal her mate's shaft. It was only about half mast but the cold air triggered a rise in the plant-boy's arousal, bringing him to his full size.
For someone of his stature, his penis was indeed impressive. Lethos never bothered to measure it, but it was long enough to reach the back of her throat easily. His girth has also been remarked as being 'perfect' for Lethos, due to it being big enough to be very satisfying, but not so big that it causes problems during sex. Lethos, of course, decided to savor this meal, it was the most important of the day after all. She started slowly, licking the base and around the shaft a couple times. Each lick she gave made the sleeping boy shiver just a little. She worked her way up and around the shaft, until she finally made it to the head. Just a lick on the glans was enough to send his hips into the air, only to slowly come back down. Lethos knew about his sensitivity, but she didn't realize how much it would be amplified by sleeping. She gave another lick just to see his hips thrust upward again, wondering exactly what her boyfriend could be dreaming of right now. It didn't matter either way, in a few minutes he was going to wake up and forget all about that dream while having morning sex with his hot monster girlfriend. Speaking of his hot monster girlfriend, she decided that she was done waiting for her food and decided to get it herself.
Slowly, she wrapped her lips around the tip of her boyfriend's penis, carefully, as to not stimulate it too much. She rolled her tongue around it, giving it an even coat of natural lubricant before working her way down again. Every time she reached a new depth on the cock, she would slowly come back up and tease the tip with her tongue again. Down, up, tease. Down, up, tease. A simple, almost hypnotic rhythm that was almost able to get his shaft all the way to the back of Lethos' throat. Lethos, however, was just too good for the young man and after about five or six cycles, he could take no more. He thrusted his hips as high as he could make them go before shooting his seed all over the inside of Lethos' mouth. It came to be that her first meal of the day was the most delicious, having a sweet and slightly salty taste to it. As she savored her first meal of the day, her boyfriend decided that it would be a good idea to wake up and see what was causing all that commotion. Of course, he was greeted by the pleasant sight of his naked girlfriend savoring his most recent load, which in turn made him very happy. And horny, it also made him horny.
“Well good morning to you too, darling” said the recently awoken boy, startling Lethos into swallowing his whole load in one go. It was honestly a miracle that she didn't start choking, he did give out quite a lot. Ignoring the obvious miracle that just happened, Lethos replied “U-Uilos! You're awake?” Uilos decided the best answer to that question was just to prop himself up a bit in bed while maintaining eye contact with his lover. This prompted another response from his lewd girlfriend, “oh, I'm sorry for waking you, I just had such a terrible dream, and I just wanted to...” Her voice trailed off as Uilos cast aside his plant blanket to reveal his full naked form. His slender physique and firm arms, and fully erect member were enough to leave Lethos completely speechless. He slowly outstretched his hand to his lover, who returned in kind. They grasped each other's hand and Uilos pulled Lethos toward himself, bringing her within an inch of her boyfriend's face. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment longer, before they both set in to a deep, passionate kiss.
While their faces converged as one, their hands began to wander downwards. Uilos took a hold of one of Lethos' massive breasts with his hand and began massaging the soft, malleable flesh. Lethos' hands had one goal in mind, which was getting to her mate's penis in record time. She took the shaft in one hand and was able to reach enough to just barely wrap her other hand around the base of his balls. She began stroking, which proved to be easy because it was conveniently lubricated just earlier. Her boyfriend's other hand had a similar idea, he weaved it down below his lover's waistline and gently slid his finger across the clit, which was enough to send shivers down Lethos' spine. Uilos took this as a very clear sign to continue, so he stuck a finger in and slowly started stirring it inside. Lethos kept herself upright for as long as she could, but eventually she couldn't take anymore and she fell backwards onto her soft, plant bed. Uilos followed, and positioned his dick directly in front of Lethos' extremely wet entrance, hesitating for but a moment. He simply stared into his lover's eyes, and she gave a firm nod, which was all he needed.
He realigned his member one last time before gently sliding the tip in, going slow at first to stretch this hole a little wider so that it can take him properly. His pace proved to be a bit too slow for Lethos, who took it upon herself to wrap her legs around Uilos and force him all the way in with just a single thrust. The moans that the couple gave were a clear indicator that Lethos could indeed take Uilos properly. They held that position for a moment before Lethos took another breath and asked her lover a question. “S...so, what were you dreaming about?” Uilos stared for a beat then began to chuckle, “Is that really the most fitting question to ask right now? Besides, I should ask you the same thing.” Lethos somehow was able to blush deeper than she already was, and bashfully replied “i-i asked before you did,” she gave a little pout, “s-so you go first.” Uilos knew better than to argue with her so he blissfully agreed. “If you must know, my love, I just so happened to be dreaming of this beautiful girl. Her hair was as blue as the sky, her eyes were as friendly as a hug, and her figure was as beautiful as gold.” With each moment, Uilos could feel her pussy tighten up just a little, as if it were her heartbeat. “She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen, and I fell in love as soon as I laid eyes on her.” Uilos began to move his face closer to hers, causing Lethos' heart to skip a beat. “And she was sleeping right next to me.” He brought his lips directly to hers in just a moment, and suddenly, every other thought was pushed out of her mind. She tightened her legs once again, as if trying to feel more of her lover inside her. She wanted nothing more in the world then to be suspended in the moment, forever.
Unfortunately, she didn't get her wish, as Uilos pulled away and asked “Shall we continue?” Lethos loosened her legs to allow Uilos some freedom of movement. Uilos breathed in slowly, moving his hips upward and drawing his shaft out from his lover's warm embrace. Once his lower half made contact with Lethos' leg barrier, he slowly pushed it back in again, matching his breathing with his movements. When he finally reached the base of his cock, he repeated the process, slowly accelerating as his breath naturally became quicker to catch up with his heart. Lethos took hold of one of her partner's hands and rested it on one of her bountiful breasts. “I...It feels really good when you play with them like that.” Uilos didn't need the clarification, for as soon as his hand rested on her pillow-like mounds, he began to press his fingers into it. Uilos delicately molded her supple flesh, and teased her cute little nipples in such a way that the proud owner of these breasts couldn't stop herself from gasping and moaning in tune with his movements. They continued like this, until eventually, Lethos began to approach orgasm. She gave into the pleasure and lowered her legs, giving Uilos complete freedom to have his way with her.
Uilos could feel it resonating through her entire being, he knew exactly what she was feeling, and he knew exactly what to do. He breathed in deeply, and raised his hips as far as he could go, and gripped his lover's breast one last time before thrusting himself as deep as he could possibly go, and Lethos gasped and moaned as a result. He had hit the perfect spot, and he was planning to toke full advantage of it. He once again, pulled out further than he had gone before, but this time he didn't pause. As soon as he could go no higher, he immediately lowered them again, which made Lethos illicit the expected gasp and moan. He couldn't last much longer himself, and he could hear his partner slowly approaching her climax as well. He decided to let loose, faster and faster his hips went, unstoppable by anything other than his release. Lethos wrapped her arms around him, pulling her face upwards towards his. They stared into each other's eyes one final time before locking their lips and finishing together. Uilos plastered his lover's interior walls with white, completely filling her up and then some. Lethos' lower half began shuddering violently as her entire body was overtaken by ecstasy. Both of them could think of nothing but the other for what felt like hours.
Eventually, the couple came down from their high and collapsed onto the bed beneath, worn out from the experience they just had. Uilos rolled himself off of his beautiful partner and pulled his now flaccid cock out of her. The seed that came leaking out would have stained the sheets, if they weren't made out of plants. He wanted to get up and begin his morning activities, but he was out of energy due to the exercise he just got. Instead of trying and failing to raise himself off the bed, he just wrapped his arms around Lethos, and stared at her for a moment. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing very slow, could she have fallen asleep after that intense experience? Uilos pondered this for only a moment because she opened her eyes a second later. She just smiled and said “That was nice, thanks.” Uilos just kissed her in return, and they laid there motionless for a while, just enjoying each other's company.
_-Fin_ | 92691ce2d00f4b159a201e124d2cfbfb | ['b826654eef014b698542a2c1ffc33c3b'] | Breaking the Curse
Derrick was sitting on his bed, looking down at his gracious, spectacled guest relaxing on his beanbag chair. Derrick spoke first. “Okay, I think I get what we're doing, but whyyyyyyy?” Derrick expectantly stared at his guest, only to gain the reply, “Just go with it. I promise this will work. Just talk to me like you're on a date with me” The shorter boy huffed defeatedly and ceded victory to his 'date'. “So, uh, Garreth”
“Yes Derrick?” Derrick wasn't sure of what to talk about, so he decided to do what's worked for him in the past, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “...nice weather we're having, right?” While Derrick was silently questioning his sanity, Garry took the time to look outside and provide an accurate answer to his 'date'. “Yes I suppose it is good weather, considering that it's almost midnight and we're not planning on going out for the next few hours.” Derrick gave a barely audible 'mhm' and gave way to a completely preventable awkward silence, broken a few seconds later by his 'date'. “Say Derrick, you have weird dreams, right?” Derrick snapped out of his trance and nodded, pointing to his dream journal, “I keep a log of them in there.” Garreth, the curios little shit, got up from his little beanbag chair and walked over to the desk that held Derrick's dream book. “Do you mind if I...?” Derrick gave a curt positive response, and let Garreth open the book. Garreth opened and promptly skimmed the most recent page, only to realize he has no idea who any of these characters are. “uhhh... Derrick?” Derrick, realizing his mistake, promptly apologized and clarified, “You kinda need to read it from the beginning in order to understand most of the stuff in there.” Garreth gave a quick “oh” before coming over to the bed and sitting right next to his companion. “Well, could you help me figure it out? You wrote this, after all.” Derrick took the book and flipped to the first page of his recent dream adventures, and started explaining what all of this meant. “You see, this was the first night I started dreaming in this whole world, well there's actually three of them, but...” Garreth listened patiently, and understood as much as he could. He was genuinely interested in Derrick's dream worlds, and it made good conversation too. It was after a moment in the 14th dream when Garreth noticed something that caught his eye.
“Oh, it says here that she told you how to awaken her, but you didn't write it down.” Derrick, suddenly blushing due to the memory of that night, attempted to dodge the question, “it wasn't anything important, just uhh...” Garreth cut off his loremaster, and reassured him with eye contact and a smile. This made Derrick's heart skip a beat, though he didn't know why. However, with his newfound modicum of confidence, he stared at his shoes and murmured, “well uhh, I have to... kiss her.” Garreth, suddenly understood the blush and involuntarily decided to try it out himself. “Well, I assume since you're apparently such a womanizer in your dreams that you wouldn't have a problem with it, right?” Derrick shook his head weakly, which prompted another question from his guest. “Oh, you haven't kissed anyone yet?” Derrick shook his head and looked away. The taller boy continued, “...have you wondered what your first kiss would be like? would be like?” Derrick thought for a moment, “I suppose it would have to be with someone who I love, under the moonlight.” Garreth sat up from his resting place, and with a swift motion, opened the curtains to his gracious host's room, revealing the full moon high in the sky. He beckoned derrick to come forth, “Funny you should say that...” he says as he embraces his prince, “...I have the exact same dream.” Garreth's voice trailed off, and with these parting words, they leaned towards each other and kissed for what felt like hours.
**Author's Note:**
> Ok i know it sounds weird but this whole plot of Garreth being Mr. Steal-yo-man was inspired by a Youtube comment i made a while ago on a rhythm heaven video. Here it is with no context:
> "the weasel just really wanted you to be prepared so he took you through the date pretending to be the gf until eventually they realise that they're perfect for eachother. the stunned expression on the end card signifies that he completely forgot about the girl the next day and was surprised to learn that the girl really did like him. and now there's a whole fucked up love triangle that involves a weasel."
> ...it makes sense with the video trust me
>
> anyways, the reason this is so short is because i'm a gosh darn dummy and i suck at scheduling my shit.
> but do please tell me where i need to improve, i'm still pretty new to the whole writing thing |
a67e495bf55640d59ab7f331e9c8493e | ['b82d28fac9aa4419a74bc73b5aa9faf5'] | Keith sat down in their dreamworld, a sigh escaping his lips. Today they were on a beach, probably some beach from Cuba. That's where Lance was from, after all. Usually he controlled where they were in their dreams. Lance sat down too, worry plastered over his face as he answered what Keith had been wondering. “It’s Varadero. If you’re wondering. Now will you tell me why you seem so...off?” Keith reached over to him, a hand on his cheek as his thumb rubbed over it. “You're going to get frown lines doing that.” Keith avoided the question, so of course Lance brought it back up.
“Keith. I couldn't sleep because _/you/_ were in my head, calling for me.” He remembered, of course. He did it every single time. He would apologize to Lance when he believed he was going to die. Sadly, he would always show up in the dreamworld shortly after as his body slowly gave out. He was saved every single time, waking up in a hospital room after leaving the dreamscape.
So Keith assumed he hadn’t died, at least not yet. His brain was still active.
“Keith, what happened? Do you forget I can feel your pain? Like... All of it?” Again, he remembered. This was why he told Lance he often got into fights, to hide what was happening. When he tried to hang himself and Lance felt the choking sensation, Keith told him that he had been in a choke hold. What could he say now? It had been a different kind of pain.
He had shoved a knife in his chest.
Keith lied on the spot. “Car crash. I think. It's fuzzy…” The look on Lance's face let Keith know that he bought it. He was worried, but he understood. Lance’s blue eyes moved to stare at the waves, his legs coming to his chest as a gentle breeze blew through his hair. Keith’s simply slapped him across the face. Lance finally spoke again, avoiding Keith’s eyes. “Oh… Is it like the time you got beat up? And you passed out because you almost-” Keith cut him off with a “Yup”, popping the P as he let out an exhale. His mind was really fuzzy, that wasn't a lie. This was where they had to wait and see. Would Keith wake up or would this be their last shared dream before his brain shut down? He technically could be dead now, the last of his consciousness being used to see Lance. He assumed Lance thought of that too because soon the taller boy was trying to hide his tears. Keith frowned, pulling the other into his chest. He sighed again, shaking his head.
“I really care about you, you know?” Keith spoke lowly, eyes closed.
Lance laughed bitterly. “Famous last words?” He blinked rapidly as he pulled back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His dark skin almost hid the redness around his eyes but it was still visible enough for Keith to see it.
“Maybe.” Keith shrugged, forcing a smile at the other. “Or maybe not. The world is cruel like that.” They had joked about it before. Lance didn't know the gravity of it all so to him he could joke about it once Keith was okay. Keith just went along with it, though it didn’t truly bother him. Lance rolled his eyes, his smile slowly returning as he spoke. “Yeah. Gosh, why can't it stop showing me this ugly mug of yours?” Again, it was a joke they both understood. Lance pulled Keith into a hug mid-sentence, tears coming down again. He could sense it. Keith knew it.
They knew his consciousness was slipping. It was now or never.
Keith opened his mouth to speak but Lance beat him to it. “I'll find you. If… if this is it. I'll look up teens in car crashes. I- I'll be there for you. Even if-” A sob wrenched his body forward and Keith's eyes widened in panic.
This wasn't fair.
“Fuck. Lance, wait.” He stood up suddenly, turning away and pacing. He couldn't die letting Lance think this. He had to tell him the truth. “It wasn't that. I lied. It was me. I did it.” Lance blinked, standing in confusion. He was talking, Keith couldn't hear him anymore. He kept rambling. “All those times. Well, no, two. I lied. It wasn't a car accident or a choke-hold. Neither of them were accidents. It was me. I was-” He rushed forward and was suddenly falling. He watched Lance run towards him, trying to catch him. Everything went black.
* * *
And then he was seeing white. White walls. White sheets. White gown. _Oh no._ Keith searched the room, finding himself in a hospital bed. His limbs trembled, tears came to his eyes, his breath hitched as he sat up. He turned to the monitor beside his bed, watching his pulse jump across the screen in an irregular manner. Regardless, it was there. He was there. He was alive.
_“I woke up when you fell. You're fine, right? Hey, answer me. I'm scared. Please. Say something.”_
Keith's entire world shattered as he screamed, sobs coming rapidly and loudly. His hands tore at his hair, eyes squeezed closed as he broke. Despite this, his thoughts were calm.
_“I was right.”_
There was a long silence in his mind before his soulmate replied. _“What do you mean?”_
_“The world_ /is/ _cruel.”_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Everything I use in terms of foster care and medical issues will be a mix of what I researched, what I've been told by friends, and then probably a little bit of dramatics for the sake of plot.
>
> Also as of right now, format isn't my biggest concern. I know the proper way to space and how to do dialogue but honestly I've been roleplaying too much to care for that anymore. If someone wants to help me edit, I'd appreciate it. Otherwise it'll stay this way.
>
> Also, lastly, bear with me when it comes to tags and stuff. I read on AO3 but the last fanfic I wrote in full was back in my Wattpad days. | 04c5ea295e4b4a7b9a679a3dcd7bbc05 | ['b82d28fac9aa4419a74bc73b5aa9faf5'] | The familiar sound of a truck backing up woke Keith from his slumber. A moan arose from his throat as he stretched. He glanced out his window, realizing it was still early and school was not over. He stood up, looking farther out to find the source of the noise. Just next door, Keith watched as a moving truck pulled out and drove away. "Oh...the family is here." He laid down, deciding to go back to sleep and ignore the family...until he had an idea. Maybe they'd accept him if they met him first before they heard the rumors. Keith sprang up and put on his shoes. His mullet had been matted down, but that was nothing to worry about for now. He didn't have time to nitpick about it, so he just left his home to see the neighbors. His heart pounded against his rib-cage as his hand hovered over the doorbell. _'Maybe I shouldn't-'_ The door swung open to reveal a man and a woman. The woman was green, the man was red. "Er. I was about to come greet you both. I live next door. I'm Keith Kogane." His breathing was visibly uneven, and the couple could tell he was nervous. The man shook Keith's hand in order to confirm that Keith was not just wearing black to be a rebel. Nope, that was his color. His eyes widened but he simply looked Keith in the eyes. "We're the McClains, it's a pleasure to meet you." The woman said happily before questioning his attire. "Black, hm? It's not really a color. I bet you get that a lot. It's unique in my eyes. We have a son, I think you'd really like him. He's around your age. We were about to leave to buy groceries, he's inside unpacking. Go on in and say hi." She smiled and Keith's nerves went away, but reappeared at the thought of being judged by someone his age. _'A son?'_ The McClains walked away and Keith walked inside the home. "Uh..hello? Your parents said to..." He trailed off, hearing a familiar song by Muse playing over a speaker. Keith followed the sound, arriving in a room full of boxes and a small, dancing boy. "Excuse me?" The boy jumped, turning to look at Keith. Instantly, they both froze. Keith knew why the other was rendered speechless, most people were when they met Keith. But for Keith, this was a new feeling. The boy that stood in front of him did not wear the colors of the spectrum, but instead, he wore a plain white shirt.
And as if that weren't enough, the mark on his wrist was a beautiful splotch of white.
_'But white is not a color.'_
2. Chapter 2: Guardian Angel
Keith had a lot running through his mind in the moment. He was staring at someone just like him. Keith was incredibly flustered, and he could not pull his thoughts together. He blinked, but that was pretty much all he did. Who was this kid and why was he also a nonexistent color? Keith repeatedly thought over what he was going to say, considering he was just staring at the terrified kid. _'Hi, I'm Keith. We're both freaks!'_ No, he knew that wouldn't work. _'I see you're kind of like me...'_ Keith disliked that idea as well. After what felt like hours, but was merely seconds, Keith just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "What the fuck?" _'Way to go, Keith.'_
Surprisingly, the Cuban boy in front of him giggled, covering his face as it reddened with embarrassment. The action surprised Keith, causing a pink tint to appear upon his cheeks. "S-sorry, I was just-" The male in front of him cut him off, shaking his head and laughing. He moved his hands, revealing a smile that would make anybody's heart skip a beat. Including Keith's. "No! No, it's okay. I get it. You're black. Your color, I mean, not your skin...uh..." He stuck out his hand, the white splotch barely visible due to his sleeve, but large enough to see. "My name is Lance. Been a while since I had to introduce myself." Keith felt awful the moment Lance spoke. He had just realized that Lance has probably been through the same things as he did, and now would be teased at his new school. Keith stuck out his hand, looking Lance in the eye. He was instantly entranced by their bright blue color. "My name is Keith Kogane." He smiled, which was rare, and looked around the plain room. "Why'd you move here?" Keith questioned, expecting an immediate answer. He could tell Lance was the excitable type, so he knew he probably loved to talk. Surprisingly, Lance said nothing. He sat on his bed, his eyes down. "I, we, moved because of me. It's personal. But, hey!" He smiled again. "It's amazing to find someone else who isn't a part of the-"
There was a shatter coming for the outside. Keith glanced towards his home to find an array of colors in front of his home. His bedroom window was shattered, and fireworks were in their hands. "No!" He shouted, sprinting from the room and out the door. Lance followed, assuming Keith would need some help. Keith arrived as the fireworks were thrown into his home. He shoved past them and into the home, leaving them to laugh at their prank. Again, Lance followed, leaving the others dumbfounded. "Keith! Hey, I hope that's all they-" He was approaching the room that Keith had just ran into, assuming he would just help clean some broken glass. Lance was not aware of the fireworks. He was confused when Keith ran out, pulling Lance to the floor, and shielding him in his chest. |
ecf061144dfc45fbba06b95c22e55953 | ['b83f716579404feaa26fceb2c7444d5c'] | “Ah, no. No, just go.” He grunted.
“Alright, just relax, trust me.”
“Whatever you say, John.” John had never taken Sherlock before and his cock throbbed at just the though. John knew how it felt to be fucked liked that and he was going to show that to him. He was going make Sherlock scream.
John shifted on his knees, cock in hand. Then he aimed and pushed. They both let out loud gasps but John didn’t punish Sherlock this time, he was too distracted. He grabbed Sherlock’s bony hips and thrust again, deeper this time. Then again and again, picking up speed as he found a rhythm he liked.
Sherlock moaned loudly and John spanked him without even thinking. He felt his body tighten around John and they both let out strangled, guttural noises.
“Fuck,” muttered John, “fuck!” He slowed down to catch his breath and he heard a groan from the couch.
“No, don’t stop.”
“Beg!” Barked John. He spanked him again. “Beg for me Sherlock. I want to hear you.”
“Dammit John!” Sherlock nearly screamed into the couch cushions. “Fuck me! Just do it, please. Just don’t stop, this is incredible, ju-please.”
He moaned loudly as John slammed into him again and again. Without thinking John grabbed Sherlock’s hair and pulled. His head jerked backwards and John took his momentary unbalance to push him off the ground and onto the couch again. Sherlock clutched the back of the couch as John stood and started moving again. Sherlock may have been bigger then him but John was still strong from his time in the army. He could feel pressure start to build at this new angle and closed his eyes as pleasure began to flood his body. Blood pounded in his ears and John was distantly reminded of the sounds of exploding bombs.
“Almost done, love.” He thrust as hard as he could for a few pushes and then he felt the release and slumped panting against Sherlock. His satin shirt was damp with sweat. John nuzzled his shoulder blades as he felt that intense hunger fade from his limbs.
“Can’t feel my damn arms.” Groaned Sherlock. He hadn’t finished yet.
“Always late.” John smiled. “Here,” he said kindly as he pulled out, “let me help.” Sherlock’s legs trembled and gave out when John moved away from him. He fell sideways on the couch and closed his eyes.
Without a second to lose, John swiftly dropped to his knees, opened Sherlock’s legs and took him in his mouth. He tenderly swirled his tongue around his shaft as he moved up and down.
He heard Sherlock’s breath hitch and John reached up to relax him. He ran his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock’s ribcage and he could feel the goose bumps form as he went. The mood had gone from fiery and passionate to a tender fuzzy kind of love.
Sherlock groaned and weakly placed a hand on the back of John’s head.
“Oh, John.” He whispered. John hummed in response and could feel Sherlock twitch in response. With one final suck and a pitiful moan, Sherlock shuddered and came as John swallowed around him. John looked up at Sherlock’s face and had to suppress a laugh. The man was knocked flat on his back, spread eagle, eyes shut tight and mouth slightly agape.
John wiped his mouth and leaned up to kiss him. Sherlock pressed back faintly. They were both exhausted.
“John?” he whispered after a minute or two.
“Hm?” John murmured as he nuzzled Sherlock’s thigh.
“You did not have the hideous sweater on the whole time. Please tell me you didn’t.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. When John didn’t reply Sherlock groaned. “God, I hate you and that jumper.”
“Liar. Now move over, you great lump.” Sherlock shifted and they curled up together on the couch, still half clothed. John reached up to pull a blanket over them and they both closed their eyes. Sherlock’s head was nestled against John’s neck and was just on the edge of sleep when John said,
“You know I bought you a matching blue one right?” Sherlock snorted.
“Of course I know. When I commented on it earlier you-“ John pressed a finger against Sherlock’s lips.
“Hush.”
“I’m not wearing it John.”
“Yes you will. Let me go grab it.” John pushed himself up off the couch and went to the bedroom. He returned a minute later clutching a periwinkle blue bundle. Sherlock eyed it like it was a dead cat.
“Really, John what were you thinking?”
“It has little skulls and snowflakes on it...” John grunted. Sherlock fell silent at this. “You don’t have to wear it in public. I just thought you could wear it to bed in the winter… you know keep you warm.” John lay the jumper on the coffee table before snuggling back in under the blankets. The two embraced again, John could feel Sherlock’s cheeks flush against his neck and he kissed him on the forehead tenderly.
“Human skulls?” He asked quietly.
“Of course.” The corners out Sherlock’s mouth twitched.
“We are quite a pair, you and I.”
“Quite.” John murmured as he clasped Sherlock’s hand under the blanket.
“You know…” Sherlock said softly, “It does look really warm…” John rolled over and handed the jumper to Sherlock. He studied it for a moment before pulling it over his head and slumping back next to John.
“You look perfect.” The two of them kissed and began to drift off to sleep again, feeling toastier then ever. Sherlock suddenly chuckled and John stirred.
“What?”
“Hmm, I was just thinking, you should buy me a sweater whenever we do… that.” John groaned and kissed Sherlock again.
“A kinky sweater collection.” Sherlock grinned against his neck. “Of course love.” John sighed. “A Christmas tradition…” And with that the two of them drifted off together, smiles still playing at their lips. | c1205a3654424c218135bfd16a63aa79 | ['b83f716579404feaa26fceb2c7444d5c'] |
Rats
**Author's Note:**
> It's really late here and I think this may have some errors, but I will fix up tomorrow. Promise. X
Rats
It was a Thursday night when Sherlock arrived at 221b with brown shoebox and a plastic Tesco bag. John was in his usual armchair by the fireplace and glanced up when Sherlock entered the flat, cheeks rosy from the cold.
“Where have you been?” John asked looking back down at the newspaper in his hands.
“Out.” Sherlock replied over his shoulder as he strolled into the kitchen. John scowled as he heard things being shifted around on the table. John opened his mouth to retort but he was cut off.
“I was at Bart’s if you must know. I was getting some supplies for a quick experiment.” At this John looked up warily.
“Please tell me you didn’t bring home more dead bodies… or parts, Mrs. Hudson nearly fainted when she found those ears in the crisper you know.” Sherlock waved him off with a dismissive hand.
“I assure you there is nothing dead in this box.” John put down his paper at this and moved towards the kitchen.
“What do you mean nothing _dead_. Is it, uh alive?” Sherlock ignored him save for a roll of the eyes. John poked a hand carefully into the Tesco bag and pulled out a package of string cheese. John raised an eyebrow and turned to ask his mad flat mate what he was up to but he had darted out of the room, no doubt in search of some needed material.
There was a sudden scratching noise from below and John eyed the shoebox. Knowing Sherlock it could be some deadly scorpion or spider. He had seen more then enough of those in the dessert. He shuddered at the thought of the giant pale camel spiders that occasionally found their way into soldier’s barracks. An uncontrollable shiver ran through his body as he tried to think of something less horrifying than giant spiders.
He was just about to go back to his chair when he hear a tiny sneeze from the box. As far as John knew, scorpions or spiders couldn’t sneeze. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Sherlock was in sight. He could hear things being thrown onto the floor in the next room and reasoned Sherlock could be a while judging by the string of curses drifting down the hall.
John carefully reached across the table for the box and edged it open with his index finger. The little creature inside looked up, blinking in the bright lamplight and John instinctively covered his mouth to stifle his sigh of “aw!”
Inside the box, in a nest of paper towels sat what appeared to be a small white rat spattered with black freckles. It was sitting on its back legs look at John inquisitively, its head cocked to one side. John couldn’t contain himself and let out a little giggle. The thing had such big expressive eyes, John felt like he was looking at an extremely small puppy.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone before slowly extending a hand towards the furry creature. The rat didn’t flinch and inspected John before placing his own small, strangely human like hands on John’s outstretched index finger. He sniffed and then happily licked John’s finger. John grinned.
“Oh for god’s sake.” Came Sherlock low rumbling voice behind him.
“What’s this little fella doing here with you?” Sherlock looked at him incredulously as he put a tray of petri dishes down on the table with a little more force then necessary.
“ _Little fella?_ ” Sherlock repeated eyebrows raised.
“What?” asked John defensively. “It’s a valid question!” Sherlock rolled his eyes skyward like he always did when John was missing a point that was obvious to him.
“It’s a rat John. Have you really already gotten sentimental about it?” John glanced down at the little ball of fur still clutching his finger.
“Well… I mean look at it!” He gestured and the rat watched his movements. It seemed incredibly bright to John.
“It’s a lab rat!” Growled Sherlock as he stalked over to the fridge and pulled out a glass bottle full of lumpy grey objects, with a skull and crossbones on the label . Sherlock shook the bottle at John. “It’s for my experiment.”
“Which concerns what?” John asked feeling his face begin to heat up. He took his hand away from the rat and placed it on the table, trying not glare at Sherlock.
“I’m studying the effects a certain species of poisonous mushrooms has on the body in small does over a period of time.” He looked down at the rat who was now obliviously cleaning his face. John forced down an amused smiled and tried to focus on Sherlock. “And since I couldn’t convince Lestrade to let me experiment on Anderson…” he smirked darkly and continued “I had to make other arrangements, hence the bag of cheese and the _lab_ rat.” He put special emphasis on the word _lab_.
“So you’re going to poison it,” said John slowly. It was more of a statement then a question. Sherlock sighed impatiently.
“Yes John, I am going to kill the rat eventually I-“ John darted forward and snatched the creature out of the box and brought it to his chest protectively. The animal squeaked in surprise but otherwise seemed content to be held. It looked up in awe at the human clutching him.
“John, honestly?” Sherlock glared at him and took a step forward, gripping the bottle of mushrooms tightly in his hand. John glared back.
“I am not letting you kill some poor innocent animal in our kitchen just because you want- just because, you’re bored Sherlock!”
“It’s for science!” Sherlock growled, tangling his fingers in his hair. John shook his head firmly and took another step back. |
8eac536ab5c84bbebe76ec8ea11abbd7 | ['b844af8ffe1e42c3a524f366d8fa908e'] | “Mmm, so erotic,” she breaks in sarcastically. “Jesus, if I wanted a formal definition I would have just busted open a textbook. At least tell me if he was good or not.”
The omega bites his bottom lip, unsure how best to explain it. “Good is a relative term. ‘Good’ for a woman or a beta doesn’t mean the same as it does an omega.” Sherlock suddenly recalls vividly how the large male hard fucked him into the mattress just two days before, his pale face turning crimson.
Janine hums. “You know I’ve fucked my share of alphas, too. Hurts like a bitch. And then there are the stories,” she twists her mouth consideringly. “That alphas just don’t get as big as they do around omegas. They’re supposed to go into a frenzied state. Have you ever been with one who went into a rut.”
“God no! It’s partially why I was allowed to go to university, I had to promise to only attend military ones. Alpha soldiers have a much stronger control over their desires. Nerves of steel. Well, balls of steel is more accurate.”
They both break into giggles. Janine is the first to turn serious.
“But all jokes aside, I really do think you need to be more careful.”
He pulls a face. “Careful? I’m plenty careful. I’m on high-dose suppressant at all times. I’m consistent with my birth control. And as for people figuring it out. Who would care?” He snarks.
“Even if someone does catch on at it gets reported, what, do you honestly think Dean Lestrade is going to do anything about it? The man is so lazy he’s hardly got the drive to investigate the drugs being distributed right under his nose throughout the school. Do you think he’s the type to get involved with the goings on between his professors and students. Besides, I’ve only slept with professor Sholto twice and professor Murray three times and Professor Moran once.”
“It’s the and’s in that sentence I’d worry about if I were you. It’s not other students or the Dean I’m talking about, Sherly. Alpha’s are super possessive by their nature. Especially these wolven alphas, they’re animalistic. Alpha primes. They’re soldiers when it comes to fighting but when it comes to sex they’re little more than barbaric aniamsl who have to constantly struggle against going into a rut. Even the more controlled, well tempered alphas can be set off by a lewd omega. And you’re not just sleeping with one of them! If they ever got wind you’re slutting around on them… All I’m saying is that you’re playing a dangerous game doing this.”
Sherlock crinkles his nose. He honestly hadn’t thought about that. But he doesn’t want Janine to know she’s given him pause. “Don’t worry. I’m not a child, I can handle myself.” He counters with a haughty look.
“No, you’re just the youngest, most desirable omega at the entire university and you’re a cock whore who’s masquerading as this posh, untouchable thing. Just don’t let any of the wolves figure you out.”
“I won’t.” He adds lamely.
They finally make it across campus to the science building. They’re just about to head into their anatomy classroom when Janine grabs him by his wrist and tugs him back. She whispers lowly into his ear so none of the other approaching students can hear. “Just one more thing. Promise me Sherlock you aren’t going to sleep with any more professors, alright?”
“Fine. Just let me go,” he says, tugging against her grip.
“Promise me,” she growls.
“All that morning intervention to get me to not be late and it seems you’ll end up making me tardy all on your own.”
“Christ, you’re such a dramatic bitch.” She releases his wrist but not before giving him a shove into the wall behind him. Sherlock follows and makes sure to take a seat as far away from Janine as he can.
His pride is already smarting from Janine casual criticism, which likely has more weight to it than he’d like to admit, so when he sits down and inhales sharply from a flare of pain from his ass it’s just another reminder of Sherlock’s poor choices.
But perhaps the worst part though is knowing he’s actually not the omega slut Janine is making him out to be. He’s really not. It’s just college is a lot harder than he anticipated and Sherlock finds studying for subjects he doesn’t care about painfully dull. When he was in middle and high school he flew through classes, always managing top grades. He’d even been able to skip almost a year and half and was able to start university at just fifteen.
Now he’s sixteen and in his mind he should be be close to becoming a junior. Istead he’s struggling in almost all his classes besides chemistry; he’s already had to repeat literature; philosophy; astronomy; politics; and history. He’d much rather focus on subjects he loves: biology, chemistry, music, dancing, and art..
Sleeping with eager alpha professors seems like the only way he’ll get through those classes.
Sherlock slouches back in his seat. Thankfully, he’s rather decent with anatomy so there shouldn’t be a need to sleep with whoever this new professor is, whether he or she be alpha, beta or omega.
2. Chapter 2
When the man enters the classroom, Sherlock immediately breaths in the rich, heady aroma of _ potent alpha male. _ It causes the young omega to blink and unconsciously sits up straighter.
The soldier walks in without saying anything at first, placing his leather briefcase on the large front desk. He’s wearing the hunter-green uniform of the weres division. He’s a solid looking alpha, legs shorter than most, but they’re just as broad and powerfully built as his thick body.
His face is incredibly handsome, weather and age-worn with a wide, firm jawline, broad nose, silvered-brown hair and dark blue eyes that eventually look out across the room.
“I’m Dr. John Watson,” the alpha begins talking in a low, gravel as he starts loading the computer with the day’s lesson. Here I’ll be your professor to replace Lieutenant Smith for the remainder of the term. I served on missions with Professor Sholto I’ll also be the coach for football if any of you play.”
The teen’s eyes are drawn to the man’s crotch, which is sporting the most magnificent bulge on any alpha he’s yet seen. Sherlock can only imagine how big, thick the actual erect alpha cock must be if this is what it is when completely soft.
The teen’s mouth waters as suddenly, an unbidden image flashes through his head: the professor bending Sherlock over that exact desk he was now standing in front of, that big monster cock of his plunging deep inside Sherlock’s tight wet hole.
_ FOCUS! _
He's been missing a good portion of the Sherlock quickly closes his parted lips, tells his stricken omega mind to get a hold of itself. But it’s too late. In the moment he comes back to himself he sees those gorgeous navy blue eyes eyes have landed directly on him. The alpha’s eyes narrow, the lines of his face etched deeply with suspicion. | 3fd2af9154a6423eac74ea9b8f03ca92 | ['b844af8ffe1e42c3a524f366d8fa908e'] |
1. Chapter 1
A sweet soft slumber is suddenly painfully dragged away as Sherlock’s roommate begins loudly shouting his name and shaking him .
“Sherlock, come on. Wake up. You’re going to be late. Again!”
He squirms away from the sound, trying to remain asleep, warm in the embrace of his blanket cocoon. He would very much like to stay there until the month is out but Molly presses, nearly pushing him off his bed with a hard shove.
“You slept all day yesterday too. You have to go to classes today.”
Fuck. He slept an entire day?
“Molly, pleass. Lea me alone.” He whimpers into his pillow. His body aches but he’d rather take another class with Professor Anderson than tell Molly exactly why he’s so sore.
When Molly finally relents, Sherlock thinks for a brief moment he’s won. Distantly he hears another girl’s footsteps approaching his bed.
Oh god. It’s Janine, his other roommate. Her hand splays across his hips. He steels himself to be manhandled again, but instead she simply gives him a single light shake. Clearly she intends a different approach for getting the omega out of bed. She giggles as she says, “Oh, I know why Sherly is so sore this morning.”
Uh-oh. He thought they were careful. How could she possibly know? Surely she doesn’t actually know. She’s just guessing.
Then, directly in the shell of his ear, she whispers in a voice dripping with sardonic knowing. “Poor baby, was Professor Sholto a little too much for you on Wednesday?”
Sherlock gasps, his pale blue eyes bloom open to blink blearily in the bright light. There, hovering over him is Janine smirking and behind her a few feet away Molly is standing, looking rather confused and anxious behind them.
“What are you telling Sherlock, Janine?” Molly asks.
Ignoring her, Janine keeps whispering at a now slightly shocked omega. “You probably deleted it or forgot it, but you’ve got new anatomy professor, Sherly? What if you can’t sleep you way to a good grade with him?”
Sherlock moans displeased and gives a brief nod. “Fine!” He pouts, pulling back the blankets and slowly pushing himself up.
_Ow!_
He winces as he sits up. The ache from his ass isn’t the throbbing pain it was yesterday but certainly it’s still bad enough he really wishes he could skip Friday classes as well.
Molly immediately rushes over to the younger boy and helps him. “Oh, Sherlock, did you hurt yourself in dance practice?”
Sherlock gives the older girl a small smile. “Mh-hm, I pulled a muscle pretty bad.” Molly immediately starts helping him up, her face full of genuine concern.
Sherlock feels like an ass for lying to her like his. Well, for frequently lying to her if he’s being honest with himself. It’s just so easy, what with her imagining Sherlock to be this this young, innocent little omega who’s helpless and needs to be constantly protected. If Sherlock didn’t know any better he’d think she was a spy for his family who always kept a close eye on him growing up. It wasn’t until he ran away for the third time and threatened to join a drug den where they’d never be able to find him that they finally relented and gave him his freedom, letting him go to a university.
They insisted it be one of the military-based universities, who supposedly kept a tight leash over schoolwork and extracurricular activities. Since it’s common knowledge of all the genetic species of alphas, the Lycans have the highest control over their base alpha desires - it’s what made them exceptional soldiers - and therefore it would take a lot more to get them to give into a rut around an omega.
However, the trade off is having to live at their enormous military bases. That, however, was actually a selling point for Sherlock. His family can’t even visit him here, let alone get their hands on him again.
“Yeah, you probably were doing too many of those leg splits, am I right?” Janine gives him a filthy wink which Sherlock does his best to ignore.
Molly fusses over him for the next ten minutes. He has to practically shove her away to get her to stop doting. He knows why she does it, which only makes him feel like an ever bigger ass for taking advantage of her crush on him. Sherlock is almost certain Molly isn’t actually into omegas, despite her outward predilection. He suspects she harbors female lesbian desires, and uses the idea of wanting to date an omega to sublimate that which she’s not ready to admit to herself.
Eventually, after she sees Sherlock is awake enough to manage for the day she rushes off, since her first class of the day starts at 9am.
Janine unfortunately shares Sherlock’s 10 o’clock, which is anatomy, so she and him have to walk together to class.
They’re barely out of the dorms when the inevitable talk arises. Janine is all aflutter about wanting details regarding Professor’s Sholto’s cock. The omega rolls his eyes. “I’m hardly going to be one of those dull gossiping types--”
The girl cuts him off with a loud burst of laughter. “Sherls, that’s exactly who you are. You fucking gossip about the facilities people who take out the trash in the classrooms.”
He pulls a face in defense. “I’m not gossiping! I’m merely making deductions!” He cries.
“Oooh. We’re calling them ‘deductions’ now. Fine, give me a _deduction_ about Professor Sholto’s cock then.”
“Well,” Sherlock begins. “It is exactly it as you might imagine it to be. At least it perfectly fit my previous deduction of what it would look like. I got the length and thickness nearly to the precise centimeter.” He ignores her blatant eye-roll. “As you know, wolven alphas have cocks bigger than the average alpha. His is no exception to this rule.” |
7c3733eeb88b4866a7d5bc35cb481ecd | ['b86bf6f0043c4a4c8421cc38c16399a6'] | “Ok, I think you can open your eyes now, the rest I think you can manage.”
She gave him the vest and socks with a smile. He put them on and looked at his reflexion in the mirror. He gave a satisfied hum before turning to Marinette.
* * *
“Thanks Mari.” **
** **
** “N-no problem… I couldn’t have you see anything…”
Blush still arboring both cheeks, they couldn’t get themselves to have eye contact, or they would die of embarrassment.
“Now… We need to get to the mansion, both of us.”
“Both? Why?”
“So I can change you like you did to me, wouldn’t want you to cheat. Also it’d be unfair for me~”
He winked again and Marinette’s face went red, understanding what he meant.
“Oh- o-o-ok.. Should we transform? Wait… Where are our kwamis at anyways?..”
She looked around, her eyes fell on the kwamis enjoying cookies and cheese while having their own little talk. Marinette walked over, coughing lightly to get their attention.
“We gotta go. Hum.. How does it work? Do I absolutely have to transform into Chat or can I transform into Ladybug?”
Tikki looked at her and answered: “Well, If you were able to switch miraculous, you could. But I doubt Adrien have pierced ears, so you can’t wear the Miraculous. Sorry Marinette, you will have to deal with Plagg for a while.” She received a glare and a indignant scoff from her black comrade.
Marinette sighed and smiled lightly.
“Alright. Plagg, claws out!”
Adrien watched the transformation closely, he never got to see what he looked like when he was transforming. He didn’t want to brag, but he looked pretty hot like that.
“Come on Adrien, you don’t want us to be late, do you?”
“R-right, sorry. Tikki spots on!”
**
** Marinette watched him transformed, once he was done she started to climb up her way to the balcony.
“Hurry Kitty, we gotta go!”
“Coming!” _ wow.. this suit is really comfier.. I can feel every-. Concentrate Adrien. You are a gentleman, do not think about this. _ _
_ **__
** Once both of them were on the roof, Marinette looked at Adrien.
“You know how to use it?” Pointing to the yo-yo.
“I think. You know how to use the baton?”
“I manage, do I have to remember you I had to come over here using it?”
“Right. Alright, lead the way my Lady.”
Marinette smiled at him and swung herself to the building in front of the bakery. Adrien mused about her grace before following her onto the roofs clumsily, not quite used to the weapon change yet.
“W-wait up my Lady!”
“You shouldn’t call me that way when you’re in my body. We mustn't let people know we have switched bodies. So you’ll have to act like I usually do, and I’ll try to imitate your bad puns and cat-astrophic flirting.”
She winked at him, the boy couldn’t believe his Lady just made a cat pun.
Both of them made their way to the Agreste mansion, helping each-others whenever one misses a step or almost fall down.
Today surely is going to be eventful….
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> [Happy Valentine's day everyone! Hope this chapter will be up to your expectations. I reviewed it myself today, since my reviewer would be back late tonight, and I'm a little too excited, I wanted to post it as soon as I finished reviewing myself. Please excuse the grammar mistakes if there are some :x]
5. Chapter 5
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Blush, Mari realizes a ton of stuff here, school and a sweeeeeeeet surprise at the end (The last part was sarcastic)
>
> Enjoy ;)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I AM SOOOOO SORRY! I wish I had updated sooner but life had me in a tight spot and I had a hard time to find time for this..
>
> But here it is! Enjoy!
Both heroes finally slipped into the window Marinette forgot to close. Adrien looked around his room, suddenly conscious that Marinette was here about minutes ago, alone. _ I hope she didn’t look around too much… I left my room pretty messy… _ Adrien sighed and look back at Marinette who quickly de-transformed back in «Adrien». She was still arboring his pjs and he blushed in advance to what he’d have to do.
Marinette’s voice shook him out of his reverie “Are you de-transforming or what? We have about thirty minutes until school starts. that means you’ll have to run up to my place all over again and go to class. We will have to be very careful. People can’t go suspicious about us, so try to act.. Like me?”
Adrien couldn’t help but chuckles, “Well in that case I shouldn’t be worried about the late part, I stopped counting the times you got late to class because you slept through.”
Marinette blushed and looked away in a pouty stand. “I had reasons…”
Adrien smiled and walked to his closet, releasing the transformation. He took out a set of clothes and walked up to her, “Actually.. there isn’t much for me to do, I mean, I don’t have a… Bra…” He stuttered. “Seriously that thing is so uncomfortable! Anyways. I wear boxers under that, it’s the equivalent of a swimsuit in a way… And I don’t have anything to hide anymore, with all the modeling…”
He put down the clothes on the bed next to Marinette. “Close your eyes if you want, but seriously nothing to see there that you haven’t seen before, I saw the pictures of my modeling.” He gave her a playful wink, a Chat Noir trademark wink.
Saying Marinette’s face was red was small, she was burning with embarrassment. She shot her eyes closed and turned her head slightly away, pouting even more. | 8dc86eadbf9f4dbf93ff14dd574225d8 | ['b86bf6f0043c4a4c8421cc38c16399a6'] | After getting up and making a couple of jumps over some buildings, Marinette finally started to get the hang of it, managing to slip only twice before reaching the bakery. She hurriedly opened the trap door and fell onto her bed, locking eyes with herself, well, Adrien in her body.
"Hum… Hey Adrien…"
"Hey, Marinette…" He was standing there a little awkwardly.
"I hope, you didn't look too much around, it's a little messy… Sorry… Maybe, I should release the transformation now?"
Adrien only nodded, unable to say a word. After the initial shock of having Marinette learn about him being Chat let go a little, he started thinking about all the possible issues that this could cause. He had put Marinette in a dangerous position. If Hawkmoth will learn about her knowing him, he'd attack her directly, kidnap her, or even worse…
"I'm sorry that I got you into all of this…" His voice was only a sad whisper.
She looked at him confused as she released the transformation.
"What are you talking about?"
He was looking down at her… his feet.
"Well… If my Lady and I had beaten that akuma faster, you wouldn't be in this dangerous situation…"
Dangerous situation?... Oh… He doesn't know that I'm Ladybug, so he thinks he's dragging a regular civilian into our problem.
"Oh... Well... You don't have to worry for me, I mean…"
Her eyes widened and she stopped talking, seeing Plagg zip to a box - the box where Tikki was. Oh, No.
Plagg smirked and talked to the box while lightly patting it. "Knock Knock~ I know you're in here~"
Adrien looked at Plagg, then the box and then at Marinette confused.
"What is he talking about? And why is he talking to that box?"
"Errrrr…" Marinette stared at the box silently cursing the kwami.
At that moment, a flash of red flew out of the box and hid behind Adrien. A sweet and sleepy voice asked the boy (whom she thought was Marinette):
"Marinette, why is Plagg here?..."
Just then the small, red kwami noticed Marinette (Adrien) standing there. Her mouth opened in surprise.
Both miraculous owners looked at each other with some kind of incredulity. Adrien spoke first.
"Marinette?... Are you...?"
Tikki stared at both in confusion and she realized her mistake. She flew over to Marinette.
"I'm so sorry, Marinette. I thought you were Adrien! But then, who is this? And why is Plagg here?"
Marinette patted the small kwami's head. "Tikki... Adrien is Chat Noir... And… hm…"
She looked at Adrien, who could have had interrogation points instead of the eyes, and it'd give the same effect. She looked down and opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted - Marinette's phone was ringing again. God, why were there so many interruptions lately?
Adrien shakily took it and saw that the call was from Nino, well Alya. He winced before answering, while having disbelieving Marinette staring at him.
"Hey, I was about to call you, Alya…"
"No, you weren't." She deadpanned. "Now, you're going tell me right now where Marinette is. And also, why did it take you so long to call back? Don't tell me you were checking her out! I'll kill you if you did…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! No, I didn't! And she's right next to me... We were having... a little talk..."
"Give. The. Phone. To. Her. Now." Her voice had a dangerous tone.
Adrien unwillingly, with a grimace passed the phone to Marinette.
"Marinette? Oh my God, girl, tell me you're alright? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"Alya?... Hm… Why do you have Nino's… Oh wait, never mind, I got it. And yeah, I'm as fine as I can be…" She sighted the last part. "Adrien was right, we were just talking about… Hm... Some stuff…"
"Oh my God, did you confess to him?" Her earlier dangerous tone turned sweet as honey.
Marinette glowed a bright pink, losing her composure.
"A-ALYA!"
"Did you?"
"N-N-No I didn't! Not like this! Not in this situation!"
"Well, this situation itself tells a lot, girl. Which means, he has to love you back. Otherwise he wouldn't be in your body."
"It's… more complicated than that… Look… I need to go, ok? Talk to you later…"
But the journalist noticed a sad tone in her voice and didn't let go.
"Girl, what's wrong?..."
"I just…." She looked at Adrien, who was staring at her, trying to tell what was happening. "I'll explain it all later, ok, Alya? Promise... I just can't tell you like this…"
After a sigh, the ombre haired girl answered:
"Alright… But you will have to spill the beans, want it or not. Now I'm going to try to contact Nino again… He won't answer my phone! Can you believe it?"
"Maybe he's just sleeping?"
"Yeah... maybe… Catch you later, we still have school in 2 hours, and as of right now, I don't think we'll be reverted back anytime soon."
Marinette stiffened like a street sign. School? Oh no-
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Many thanks to all my followers,
>
> Special thanks to Totally_Lucky ! She helped me revise and improve my work. Which is very helpful when your first language isn't English to begin with x3
>
> Hope you all like it!
>
> Sorry it was kinda short.. I'll try posting another chapter tomorrow!
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Acceptance, hugs, blush, more blush and awkward situation ;)
Both Miraculous holders were sitting in Marinette’s room in an awkward silence. After Alya ended the call, the teenagers just stayed there in silence while their respective kwamis were whispering in a corner of the room.
Adrien had quickly connected the dots, but stayed silent, letting the newfound information sink in.
He finally broke the silence after a couple minutes.
“So… You’re Ladybug?...”
Marinette only nodded, staring in the air, away from Adrien.
“Marinette… Please talk to me…” |
a6c8cc19a85941e89ee30737baa409ae | ['b8951a9b08be439c8e687a6f8ea3e4c1'] | I’d have a better chance of being roommates with Nina or Mina, but I didn’t which was a relief. My roommate was someone named Stephanie. I find my dorm and walk in, Someone who I assume is my roommate is already in there decorating her side of the room.
“Ah, you must be my roommate.” She said with a sugary smile painted with pink lipgloss. Her voice was soft and sweet
“Uh, yeah.” I confirm her accusation.
“Your hair is such a mess, how can you even see?” She asks me, laughing slightly, tilting her head slightly. Yeah, I don’t think she’ll be a roommate I’ll get along with…
2. Meat puppets, little birdies, and a new friend
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lucy-May reunites with her old friends and has an actual conversation with her roommate that's longer than 3 sentences.
>
> Asocial baby is making a friend
>
> Also, Stephanie can read people like an open book
>
>
>
> And fuck yeah, two chapters in 2 days
> It'll slow down at this point because inevitable writer's block
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm bad at naming chapters
>
> The meat puppet part in the title is metaphorical and it's only mentioned once at the end
“My name’s Stephanie Luganov, but you probably already knew that, you can call me Stevie if you like.” She states with that sugary smile she’ll probably be known for. “You’re Lucy-May right?”
“Yeah, Lucy-May Sclera…”
“You aren’t that talkative are you?”
“No, I keep to myself.” Just then she gets right up in my face causing me to move back slightly. She grabs my bangs and lifts them up, exposing my light blue eyes. She just stares into them with her emerald green eyes for a few seconds before letting my bangs fall back into place.
“You’re a nervous train wreck alright. But I don’t mind. I want to be your friend.” She kind of got on my nerves, she seemed to not notice or care if she hurt your feelings or not. She was also really pretty, sandy blonde hair that reached her middle back, emerald green eyes, clear, beautiful skin. She had a pear shaped figure with a small chest. She wore a hot pink sundress that reached her upper middle thighs, with white straps and lace at the top. She had tan boots with dark grey socks poking out the tops along with rose earrings, a white pendant around her neck and her collar was pink.
She was honestly really pretty. I was wearing a dark purple sweater with a black skirt and dark grey capris along with dark bluish purple leggings under those. I shouldn’t be envious but I kinda am.
“Anyways, I’m going to go see if I can find a couple friends…” I say to her before hurrying out and walking around to look for Mei and Mary. Unfortunately I see Mina and Nina gossiping with each other, I tried walking away, hoping they didn’t see me but they did.
“Hey Lucy-May!” Nina chirped, going up to me with her sister.
“Hey!” Mina echoed. They were dressed the same like usual. They were wearing a black tank top with a mint green tube top over it along with dark capris and black boots. They both had white collars and light brown hair that went down to their lower back.
The only way you could really tell them apart is that Nina had slightly bigger breasts. Or if you had their personalities memorized, Mina is the follower of the two.
“So how have you been?” Mina questioned.
“You didn’t answer any of our messages or calls and you never made an effort in trying to contact us.” Nina added.
“I was busy…” I reply, hoping to god they’d go away.
“We were worried.”
“We almost considered going to your house to check on you.” Nina said, they both giggled at that comment.
“I’m looking for Mei and Mary, I’m gonna go.” I retort, walking away quickly.
“Bye Lucy-May!~”
“Keep in touch!~” It’s not like they’re that bad, but they kind of are… They just aren’t the people I want to be involved with. I eventually find the two I was looking for, going up to them.
“Hey, you two.” I say, getting their attention.
“Hey, Lucy-May.” Mei waves, smiling. She’s the nice girl. She has bobbed red hair and slightly tanned skin and brown eyes along with round glasses. She was wearing a muted blue-purple sweater with a pale yellow pleated skirt and white leggings. She was also wearing black Mary-Janes. Her collar was a pastel red color.
“Good to see you.” Mary added. She was short, only slightly with me though, she was also curvy. She had tan skin and caramel colored eyes along with bleach blonde hair she dyed on a dare but kept it. She was wearing a red, long-sleeved turtleneck with flared out sleeves which formed an upside down triangle shape at the bottom, it had a black cross near the collar. She was also wearing a black skirt that went almost to her knees and black boots.
She always carries around a pink baseball bat though she never played a sport, nor does she plan to. She carries it because she’s in a gang.
“It’s good to see you both as well.” I replied.
“We got each other as roommates so that’s good.” Mary added to the conversation.
“That’s nice, I think my roommate is new to the school, Stephanie Lagunov.”
“Yeah, we don’t recognize that name, possibly also because we’re a grade above you.” The blonde responded half sarcastically during the last part of her sentence.
“Come on Mary, be nice.” Mei cut in, causing Mary to roll her eyes slightly.
“Hopefully we can at least remain neutral with each other at the very least.” I sigh. Mei gives my shoulder a pat and smiles. | a0d57d6dcbff411487e1ecac2b5e965f | ['b8951a9b08be439c8e687a6f8ea3e4c1'] | “I don’t know about that yet. I might want to wait a little longer to do that.”
“I understand.”
We continue our conversation and we have many more over the next few months. I learn that she knows how to hack and program. I also ask a couple more times but she keeps coming up with some sort of excuse.
“I’m just very busy recently Mallory, it’s really nothing to do with you.”
“Are you sure? Because if this isn’t working for you then we don’t have to be a couple.”
“No! It’s not that.” She began with tears forming in her eyes. “I’m just scared ok? This might just be my paranoia though. I’m sorry!” She cried out.
“Lilith no, don’t cry I’m sorry. My temper just flared up for a minute.”
“It might be for the best if we aren’t a thing, I’m so sorry Mallory.” She said before hanging up the call.
NEW MESSAGE
AIVirus entered the chat
AIVirus: I’ll see you soon
AIVirus: M
AIVirus: A
AIVirus: L
AIVirus: L
AIVirus: O
AIVirus: R
AIVirus: Y
AIVirus left the chat
What does that mean? Why type it like that? I guess I upset her to a point I shouldn’t have. Did I ruin something that we had? Was it something we never even had to begin with? My brain wracked with questions and she refused to answer any calls or messages, she never even got on the chat.
After a week I gave up trying to contact her. I went to bed that night without much of an issue besides my heart hurting. During the night I was awoken by a shrill scream and then a gunshot. Then another, then one more set of screams then gunshots.
Oh my god, that means I’m next. I try hiding but I was hit across the head with a blunt object. I fell on the hardwood floor of my room. What was happening? There were a million thoughts running through my head as I drifted out of consciousness. I was lifted by my assailant and he left, trying to fight with any strength I had left, but that only proved futile as I blacked out.
I awoke groggy and with my head throbbing. I looked around and I was in a cell of sorts, and I was on a bed with a sheet covering my body. What was happening? I sit up on the bed and look at the barred door before going towards it on shaky, weak legs.
I try opening the door, when that didn’t work I started trying to force it open with whatever strength I had in me. I heard footsteps across the floors before a woman in her early 40’s with blonde hair showed up.
“It’s good to see you’re awake patient 14, but I have to ask you to stop. If you don’t I’ll have to sedate you, I don’t like doing that though. You’re not in any harm.” Her smooth voice said through the doors as she walks away. I put my head against the door as my legs gave out, causing me to fall to the floor.
I never feel this helpless or vulnerable, and when I do I hate it. I heard another set of footsteps, but these were more erratic and stopped often. They eventually stopped at my door. The door opened and I looked up to see Lilith?!
“O-Oh, you startled me…” She said in a shaky voice. She was the same, wearing an ash grey sweater, a pleated black skirt and black leggings that ombre into a silver with black slip on shoes. She was a bit chubby and she was shaking quite a bit.
“Lilith! It’s me! Mallory!” I shout, standing up, grabbing her shoulders. She flinched at the contact. She also notably stiffened when I said Lilith.
“M-My name is Luna-May! Not Lilith! Please don’t hurt me!” She shouted back with a couple tears falling from her eyes.
“B-But, you’re the same person from the chat, you’re Lilith…”
“N-No… I also just came to give you this... “ She handed me a small cup with some pink liquid. “I know it’s not much but you shouldn’t eat or drink 12 hours before… surgery…”
“Surgery?!” She nodded.
“I’ll come see you after surgery… Just please drink it… I promise it’s not going to be that bad… I’ve had it done, Mom and Dad had it done to me as a child.” She explained, stumbling over her words as she turned and left quickly, locking the door behind her. What was this stuff supposed to do? It was obviously some medicine.
That was also Lilith… unless she has a twin sister. I throw the cup of medicine at the wall, it spilling everywhere. A few minutes later the same woman from before walks in. I instinctively try backing away.
“Oh dear, you should’ve just taken the medicine, it would’ve calmed you down. Now you’re delaying our schedule.” She said before pulling out a needle, injecting it into my arm. After a minute or so I start feeling dizzy and disoriented.
She helped me into a wheelchair and wheeled me out with her. We entered an operating room where there was a man with red hair.
“I apologize for being a little late, she put up a fight and wouldn’t take the medicine willingly.” She explained, their voices just sounded like noise after that as they put me on an operating table. They put the mask on my face and before I knew it I was out.
I woke up in the same room I was locked in, groggy and disoriented. There was a dull throbbing in my neck. I looked around and saw Lilith, or Luna-May, or whoever she was.
“Good, you’re awake. I know I have some explaining to do.” She said, her voice soft and more shy than what I knew. I nodded to gesture her to continue as my throat was dry. |
b75d7542819c40498fb928749176bcf6 | ['b8d5afbad13f4bf99a84f43cb2f29e7d'] | "like you? you seems quite protective with that lee chan." it was to mock seungcheol, but the alpha doesn't seem to get it, because his expression turn solemn and serious.
his finger stop stroking jeonghan's cheek. the omega watching with longing at the hand that moved away from him.
seungcheol lean to the front, crossing both his arms on the table.
"yeah, since chan got assaulted quite sometimes since he reached his heat."
assaulted? this remind him that seungcheol ever touched that topic in the rooftop before but he didn't really care. now jeonghan is quite curious.
"what kind of assault?" he ask.
"sexually," the alpha sigh in dismay, "he almost get raped few weeks ago. by that guy who was pushed by stranger the other day." seungcheol turn to look at him.
"i was the one who protecting him at school, while outside school, it's mostly soonyoung."
"all three of you didn't go to the same school?"
seungcheol shakes his head, "nope. soonyoung studied in public school. chan is a part of dance crew soonyoung's father created. you know street art performers you often see near the park?"
jeonghan nod, there is this time on every weekend where group of street dancers perform on the side road, without stage or props. only accompanied by portable cd player, speakers, small box for donations.
it's amazing how they're all so passionate at what they're doing even though there are barely people who appreciate the arts they displayed.
"also soonyoung is a beta, that's why he didn't get affected to chan's unique pheromones, and also one of reason why i relieved to have him taking care of chan."
jeonghan doesn't look happy at the man's affectionate attention about his childhood friend. he frown unconsciously and jutted out his bottom lip.
sure he won't be able to compete with someone who's with seungcheol for a long time. and to have someone like seungcheol beside them, it's no wonder if the younger boy would want to monopolized the alpha for himself.
jeonghan doesn't like the sudden competition that appear the more he's involved with seungcheol life.
chan, that girl this afternoon, who else?
"why do you look upset?" seungcheol touch jeonghan's hand. slowly intertwining their finger.
"i'm not upset." he sucked his lips when he realized he's been pouting.
"jealous?"
"geez, you wish."
there's a crunchy laugh escape seungcheol's lips and jeonghan can't stop staring at the red pouty lips.
"want to go to my place?" the alpha offered while tightening his grip on jeonghan's hand.
the beautiful blonde give him a suspicious look, before let out a small giggle when seungcheol start blushing.
"yah i don't meant it like that! movie! we can watch movie in my place,"
his giggle turn to a big grin when he stand up, with seungcheol looking up at him curiously.
"sure, lets watch movie," jeonghan teased playfully.
"yaah for real, i'm not animal you know,"
"uh huh," jeonghan answered nonchalantly while walk away with a flustered seungcheol in tow. busy making up excuse to convinced the omega.
jeonghan should have making a bet, because what he predicted was right after all. movie just left as movie, good and innocent intention is thrown out of the window when seungcheol abandon the said movie to steal kisses from him and who is he to reject the playful advance?
all they know what seungcheol's watch the next hour is no longer ths flat screen of TV in his living room.
it's jeonghan.
moaning and trembling under him.
*+*+*+*
15. your special scents
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> jeonghan mouthing an o when he tilt his head to the right to see seungcheol's face, looking so excited.
>
> "i can see ur passcode you know?"
>
> "hmm..so that's meant you can come by anytime you want. don't share it to anyone else" he peck his lover's cheek.
>
> "you're not afraid if i steal from your place?"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> can i say that story is finally moving? ha ha ha.
>
> enjoy ^^
jeonghan is on his phone, replying to group chat with the 3 kids as he following seungcheol to his apartment. both just finished their class, have nothing to do and just decide to hang out in seungcheol's place.
the black haired man is walking in front of him, humming lightly, he's in good mood today he noticed. he put his phone into his pocket when they finally at sungcheol's doorstep but the man suddenly turn around and surprised him.
the cheeky grin make jeonghan grow with suspicious.
"what?"
without saying anything the alpha pull him closer, turn his body around to face the door and grab his right hand, left hand circling around his waist.
seungcheol hug him from behind, resting his chin on jeonghan's right shoulder and like a puppet the older one is using his finger to punch the pass code to the apartment.
jeonghan mouthing an o when he tilt his head to the right to see seungcheol's face, looking so excited.
"i can see ur passcode you know?"
"hmm..so that's meant you can come by anytime you want. don't share it to anyone else" he peck his lover's cheek.
"you're not afraid if i steal from your place?"
they enter the apartment in the same position, hugging tight, small steps. jeonghan nudging him with little annoyance because seungcheol is teasing his shoulder with kisses and it's tickles. Once inside the familiar room, seungcheol pitted him against the door.
"the only valuable thing in this room is my heart, and you have steal it already."
"wow, that's freaking cheesy."
seungcheol let him go and laugh heartily as he walk inside the living room. jeonghan follow him, skipping to the kitchen and happily cheered when he find a package of his favorite strawberry milk in the fridge.
"can you get me cola?" | 5d7f0a0e92c34f10b86c8c7b395d36e0 | ['b8d5afbad13f4bf99a84f43cb2f29e7d'] | another silence filled the already silent place. they're pretty far away from the other students. seungcheol is staring at his own feet ever since they're here. it's like he's a medusa, and if seungcheol dare to stare at his eyes, he will turn to a stone.
"you scent," the man start.
"is strong in those places," he continued
"and i like it very much,"
black orbs finally able to look at him in the eyes and it give a crazy feeling to jeonghan's body. it's his turn to look away
he scoff, "what scent? i was not in heat, you can't-"
"i told you the truth," the alpha whining then smile widely, his droopy eyes turn to a slit.
"yah, want me to tell you a secret?"
seungcheol take a step forward, jeonghan see he lift his right hand. the finger slowly stroking his cheek bone then his fringe, in which the beautiful man tried not to wince. he doesn't want to lose.
to what? he questioned himself.
to his desire. he answered reluctantly.
his body has been acting strange these days, he wondered why it all started from that damn night in the club. all thanks to this guy here.
"i can smell omega's scent." he started, "and not because they're in heat. i can differentiate each scent of omega. even from far away," seungcheol move the fringe away to behind his ear, it feels tickling, but he kinda likes it.
"are you saying that my scents are on those place?" he ask. half scoffing.
seungcheol nod, his finger trailing down, tracing his cheek, his jaw.
"ever since that night i can't stop thinking about your scent," he pulled his hand away, jeonghan almost whimpered at the lost of touch.
the man rub his nape, laughing. "i almost went crazy,"
the white blonde man still in doubt at the explanation. there's no way an alpha can smell omega's scent and differentiate it. he never see this kind of case. but he overlook it, choi seungcheol just probably making up those, so he pass it as a sweet talk.
this kind of sweet talk is not the first time he encountered.
"why me?" he decided to play along.
or flirting, whatever it fits.
the alpha stop laughing, chewing his bottom lip as if contemplating on what to say at the curious omega. it's a good thing the man didn't stare at him like he's some weirdo. many people think he's weird. not many know about this gift of his. and he doesn't want to brag about it either.
"because you're special,"
jeonghan felt time stopped when he see such a sincere eyes staring at him in adoration.
"do you know how much your scent drive me crazy?" his voice is soft.
jeonghan's doe eyes blinking rapidly as the face leaning in closer. he's expecting a kiss, his body want it so freaking bad.
but it's not a kiss that he got.
for some reason, never in his 21 years life he knew there's a gesture that's sweeter than a kiss, but maybe he's wrong. brown eyes watching with innocent curiosity but all the man's do is just touching their head together. breathing in and out softly.
and jeonghan feel his whole body shivering. from an unbearable desire.
*+*+*+*
7. your special scents
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> seungcheol doesn't let go of his hand, the man is casually caressing jeonghan's back palm during the phone call. the small gesture, the omega just silently watching. doesn't know how to react.
when seungcheol's forehead touched his in that afternoon in the library, eyes slowly fluttering close and just seems to enjoy their closeness, jeonghan can only remember how long the man's eyelashes are.
"what are you doing?" he ask softly. doesn't want to sound nervous and disturb the quiet but intense atmosphere. though inside he's quite flabbergasted at the close proximity.
"charging myself," he feels the man smile when he answered though he can't see it.
"it's a tough week for me,"
"please let me do this a little while."
it's weird, jeonghan noticed. when their skin touched each other like this, the unreleased desire and lust he felt minutes ago just seem dissipated slowly. the heat coming from the alpha start calming his heart beat and he finally get to relaxed. the burning inside him, is now turn lukewarm.
one would think they're dating if they saw them looking so comfy and chummy like this. jeonghan doesn't know either why he hasn't push the man away. most probably because he was too awe at this situation that escalated so fast.
and seungcheol seems really tired. so he just give in. for now.
he usually get irritated easily when someone dare to cross his private space. sometimes jeonghan thought he's a reincarnation of a cat. the more someone tried to bother him, the more he tried to resist them. he has to be the first one who take interest and make the first move, there is no in between.
and it's usually happen only when he's in heat. the only moment he let his guard down and let others in.
their close moment was disturbed when the phone in seungcheol's pocket vibrated.
jeonghan saw the man sighing and pulled away unwillingly. he unconsciously sighing too but pulled himself together. playing with the edge on his shirt to distract himself.
the corner of his eyes see seungcheol pick up the phone, leaning back onto the shelf. they're standing side by side. he's listening the baritone voice,the way seungcheol talk, he kinda of like the vibe. it's comforting.
thinking that there's nothing else to do, jeonghan decided to leave, there's no reason for him to stay here anyway. he was dragged here, and they flirt enough but also not enough to see where this relationship going to. not like he care. |
b37343a54989495bbcdd98701bba8ddf | ['b8dfdad18bb240a194fb6740714f00f9'] | For the rest of my time wandering, I can only think of her. I cross the oceans humming our song (because it's our song now, it's ours) and I reach the land daydreaming. I wander through towns grinning like a maniac. I laugh out loud, I dance around.
I don't even notice when I enter my hometown. I don't even think as I pass the park, where it all started. I only click when I walk past the falling girl, and she collapses on top of me.
The surprise makes me wobble under her, but I place her back on her feet and stare blankly. She... moved?
My- my friends! All around me, laughing about the 'hero in action', dancing, breathing, talking, living.
And the number on my hand. The phone in my pocket.
The rest of the trip to the park is a blur. It takes me a little while to get used to talking to them, using their names, emoting and talking about things to people instead of just monologuing to myself. Still, as much as concentration is needed, I keep thinking about her.
Finally, we part, and I snatch my phone and stab the numbers in.
Ring...
Ring...
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"Oh, hi!"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I wrote something else to finish this off, but it’s p bad. Enjoy this as it is, I guess.
**Author's Note:**
> If anyone has prompts for me, write them in the comments! I'll try to write whatever I get, but y'know, nobody's gonna. Still, if you wanna, go ahead. | a9a4a3ccf2f642ce824c0d24d5683ad8 | ['b8dfdad18bb240a194fb6740714f00f9'] | Nobody should feel worthless
It’s just not worth the strife
But role models aren’t always good
If you’re not careful, you could maim
Someone’s view of the world, make them dark and alone
So watch what you can change
There are so many people to take inspiration from
But so much fear and self-hate
Everyone is a role model to me
Everyone can be great
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for taking so long in updating. Completely forgot about this.
8. Well, this is new
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> When you turn 18, you get your dæmon - essentially you, but as an animal. Your family is known for lame, boring animals. That is, until your 18th birthday.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> What on earth? That’s not possible!
> Is that really your dæmon?
It’s time.
It’s your 18th birthday.
Now, you get your frog. Or fly.
Honestly, you’re not that excited. Everyone else around you freaks out:
‘I hope it’s a lion’; ‘I want a dog’; ‘What do you think I’ll be’; ‘My mum says I’ll be a cat’.
Everyone else looks forward to their 18th. Not you.
Your family is famous for the worst dæmons ever. Your mum and dad have a spider and fly, respectively. The jokes are endless.
You’ve survived years of teasing and bullying to get to this point and not all of it was from other people. God knows you’ve given up hope more times then you can count.
Hey, that’s a thought. Maybe you’ll get a cockroach.
With that horrid thought slumped in your head, you pull your feet beneath you and reluctantly stand up. Your birthday is at 6:57pm, which gives you an hour to put on some nice clothes and get to the town centre. You don’t know what happens if you’re late, but you’re not going to take that chance.
“Amelie!” your dad calls from downstairs. “Hurry up, you don’t want to be late!”
Like a fly on the wall, you think, like he can always see what’s happening.
You take the hanger out of your wardrobe (you’ve had the outfit picked for ages) and put it on.
It’s a nice dress, vivid orange and red. It matches the autumn leaves outside your window; you spend a minute or so just looking at your reflection. After a minute or so of debate you take a glittering black necklace from your jewellery box as well as a black cardigan to match.
Nodding at the mirror one last time, you push open the door and walk down the stairs.
Your parents’ eyes match your necklace: glittering, shining. They’re about to cry. You might understand why if you weren’t going to get your new cockroach friend.
A small smile and several pictures later, you begin making your way to the town centre. There’s a special area there, where the mayor mutters in some old language and your dæmon makes a dramatic entrance - well, as dramatic as it can. You don’t imagine cockroaches can make a dramatic entrance very well.
It’s not very private. Anyone can come and watch; when Ben Charp turned 18, most of the town turned up. Nobody could figure out what his would be. It was a platypus. You felt bad for him in the crowd of laughter.
Sure enough, by the time you get there, a few people have gathered. Your parents will be here any second, but for now you just see sneers and mocking eyes.
15 minutes pass. You regret coming early. The whispers have only gotten louder as a couple of others have joined the crowd. The mayor gives you an unreadable look. You choose to take it as comfort. Your parents show up.
A few minutes later, the mayor clears her throat. She says a few words about coming of age, about what dæmons mean, about what they do for you. Typical stuff taught in primary school. Dæmons are a representative of you, another set of eyes and experiences that merge with yours like one. It’s a feeling unlike any other, apparently. Knowing how to fly, how to breathe underwater, how to run and run and do it faster than anyone, it’s breathtaking. Apparently.
The mayor finishes her speech and starts muttering. The crowd begin giggling, and you hear predictions. Somewhere in there is ‘cockroach’. Figures.
Then, it gets warm. Really, weirdly warm for autumn. Quickly, steadily getting warmer. You take your cardigan off.
The crowd is whispering again. _What’s going on?_
Just in front of your feet, the ground turns crimson, then black, then amber. Outside of your vision, everyone steps back.
Suddenly, the ground explodes into flame, dancing and flickering, reaching out to you, licking and spitting and writhing and _you’re not scared_. You’re just incredibly aware of how hot it is. Like you’re burning inside.
Then, glowing light, so bright the fire seems to dim. Then the fire dies.
Something lies there, covered in soot and ash. It shakes black dust off its great wings and stands up tall, bright feathers matching your dress perfectly.
The crowd is silent.
A cockroach, they said.
A phoenix, it said.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The dæmons are partly inspired by Philip Pullman’s Dark Materials trilogy.
9. Freezing Heart
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Being alone does wonders for your psyche.
> Having someone else does more.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I can’t remember if I’ve sworn in my posts before, but this one contains swearing. Just a heads up.
I am alone.
This isn't exaggeration.
I am literally alone.
Even before, I was alone- just in a much more figurative sense. I was an outcast.
Now, there's nobody to cast me out.
When I was 12, I discovered that time would freeze whenever someone was in danger. Whether this meant about to fall off a cliff or about to spoil a cliffhanger, I would be suddenly alone to 'save' whoever was in trouble. |
c771ba72159a45708e2438607eab8b79 | ['b8fd297802154728a15f41d04ed73ea1'] | Thorin never came to deal with Fíli later, not after Dwalin had pleaded with him to leave the boy be and that he would take his punishment instead. Thorin had retired to his rooms for the night, after staying with Thorin Stonehelm while Óin’s lad did his best, rubbing his father’s ointments into his wounds and finally putting him to sleep with poppy tears, he had a broken jaw and when the swelling went down it was guessed that his nose was the same. Thorin was weary, and the young healer gave him the vial his father had prescribed for the king. Thorin was now sat at the desk in his study, his hand shaking and blotting the ink as he wrote another message to send to Dís.
“You understand Dain will want to punish Fíli for his actions?” Thorin had heard Dwalin come in, and Dwalin nodded slowly, and remembering his king couldn’t see him, he mumbled out an ‘aye’.
“He’s not in the right state of mind Thorin, you just have to look at him to see that.” Dwalin strode over to the fire, his voice low. He glanced over to his king, hunched over his desk. “Still no news of Dís?”
“I fear there will never be news from my sister again. Fíli thinks the same, I know he does. He blames me Dwalin, he blames me for everything he doesn’t blame himself for.”
“And what if you are to blame?” Dwalin kept his gaze on the king, watching his movements, the clenching of his fists as he tried to sit up straight, the flexing of his wrists from the cramps of holding the pen.
“Then I’ll take the blame for all that’s happened. I’d rather Fíli hates me, he pins everything on me and leaves Erebor to go back to the Orocani Mountains and take up his throne there and never again thinks of the line of Durin with compassion then take the blame for the death of his brother.”
“Fíli can never return to the Orocani’s,” Dwalin muttered, and Thorin raised an eyebrow. Dwalin had never meant to betray Dís’s confidence in him, it had slipped out and the look on Thorin’s face warned him that he better keep talking, “Dís, I – she confided in me, before we left Ered Luin. She told me about her husband, about the Iron Fists. Fíli, he can never return. Not after what he did there, if he is ever to return they’ll rip him limb from limb and put his head on a pike.”
Fíli was treated differently now, even members of the Company seemed to take a wider berth when passing him in the halls. Fíli saw this exclusion as another way to distance himself, his downward spiral growing deeper and deeper. His uncle no longer requested his presence at meals and there were days when he didn’t leave his rooms, instead he sat on the bed that belonged to Kíli. He’d done his best to scrub out the mud stains, after refusing to let anyone near the sheets in case they tried to change them. He didn’t read the khuzdul histories and poetries that were in the bookshelves, they sat on their shelves with the same skin of dust that had accumulated while Smaug treated Erebor as his home. Fíli didn’t speak, rarely moved. The stiffness in his shoulder growing worse and worse whilst his blades lay discarder where their owner had thrown them after the last time he’d tried to swing them.
He barely slept, and when he did he always had the same nightmare that woke him up with the same guilt. No one saw him, and no one came to visit except for Dwalin. Dwalin would sometimes sit up with him at night, and tell him what he’d missed at court that day, what news there was from the Blue Mountains and then he’d tell him about Balin and Moria, and how Balin’s new colony was forming and how proud Balin was of Ori, and each night Fíli pretended to listen to what had happened at court that day and who had arrived from Ered Luin and it was only when Dwalin talked of his brother that Fíli listened, not to the words but to the underlying worry and anxiety that came with Balin not being here and Fíli knew he had found a kindred spirit.
Dwalin caught him off guard that night, his visits became fewer and fewer as his worries became greater and greater. Fíli hadn’t been expecting him to visit at all, as he was sat on Kíli’s bed, knees to his chest in a tight ball. Dwalin didn’t sit, he was early tonight.
“Thorin wants to see you tonight. Dain is visiting and you have to be in court. Thorin wants you to be presentable, he wants your hair clean and he wants you to wear the colour of Durin. He said I’m to dress you and comb your hair and carry you to him if you refuse.” Dwalin crossed his arms, standing firm and square. | 0f0a5ea92b314afa979942733417b44e | ['b8fd297802154728a15f41d04ed73ea1'] | In Ered Luin Fíli had openly talked about girls. Fíli was young and handsome and it was often he’d be found with a miner’s daughter or one of the kitchen maids, in some back hall or alleyway, sweet talking them. Kíli had been jealous of his brother, he wasn’t as typically handsome but was just as charming, if not more so, when it came to women. Even if sometimes the only way he’d get one of the tavern lasses to sit on his lap was because he was of royal blood. In fact, the last time Thorin Stonehelm had seen his cousin they’d both had their eye on the same maid. Thorin Stonehelm had tried to charm her and woo her in vain, only for Fíli to guide her out the door with a wink at his brother and cousin minutes later.
Fíli had no time to talk about women now. He felt like he was being pulled tighter and tighter inside, ready to snap. How dare this dwarf of the Iron Hills barge in and lie on his brothers’ bed and muddy the sheets with his boots at the invitation of his Uncle.
Dwalin was alerted by a scream, and a bang. He had been wondering back to his own quarters next to Thorin’s, deep in thought and worry, when he heard the muffled noise coming from the direction of the prince’s rooms. He knew Fíli and their guest from the Iron Hills were in there, Thorin having sent Dain’s son as soon as his nephew had left the hall after dinner. Dwalin’s thoughts first went to Dain’s hostility towards Durin’s line, and that harm had come to his prince. He thundered along the corridor, metal capped boots echoing off the stone floor. He’d expected the door to be locked, and nearly fell as he threw his shoulder against it and it opened. He staggered, not expecting the scene in front of him.
Fíli was straddling Thorin Stonehelm’s back, his hands tangled in his hair as he slammed his face into the cold floor. Dain’s son let out a howl as Fíli pulled his head back up, and Dwalin pounced, pulling them apart. He grabbed at Fíli, landing a swift kick to his gut from the red eyed, angered prince. Dwalin endured the kicking and biting of the prince with gritted teeth, the damage to Dain’s son was enough to cause more rifts between the two clans. Fíli was fighting Dwalin’s restraint, and Dwalin gripped him harder, his hands behind his back.
Thorin Oakenshield had heard the scream, the bang, Dwalin’s roar. He was running, steps uneven and his bad leg threatening to buckle under him. He had been changing, he’d retired to his chambers early in the night and was wearing his nightshirt, he’d unbound parts of his hair and it hung loosely round his shoulders and he slid as he rounded the corner, bad leg jarring and locking straight. He could hear the desperate cry of his nephew, and what was left of his heart seemed to shatter. What Thorin saw when he reached the doorway left him in shock. The prince of the Iron Hills was bloody faced, and he’d managed to heave himself up onto his elbows. Fíli was struggling in Dwalin’s arms, a hacking, raw cry coming from his throat. His mane of hair hung wild round his face, his cheeks splashed with red and his hands balled. Thorin was frozen, unsure if he should prize his nephew away from Dwalin or tend to his bloodied guest.
Thorin had seen the wild expression once before, pure rage that exploded and unhinged even the mightiest of kings. Thorin had been the one who’d suffered because of it, when he’d pulled Thrór away from his gold and his grandfather had struck him and fought with him and would have sentenced his grandson to the unspeakable punishment if Thráin hadn’t been there to remind him they needed the warrior prince if they were to take back Khazad-dum. Thorin suffered in silence, Frerin and Dís were forbidden to talk with him, and Thorin spent his nights weeping for his grandfather. The gold sickness had such a hold on Thrór, it was only when they were miles from Erebor and Dís was lying in her sick bed with a raging fever that Thrór forgave Thorin. Looking at Fíli now, Thorin felt fear shoot through his veins. This wasn’t his nephew, this wasn’t the same boy that had rescued a sparrow chick that had fallen from the nest and kept it warm with his own cloaks and furs, and had cried when the chick had died and demanded that they bury it with a dwarven funeral.
“Fíli, I-“ Thorin held out his hand, and his nephew snarled at him. Thorin had never meant to flinch, but he did. Dain’s son was still sprawled on the floor, and it was the king who helped him to his feet and barked out that Dwalin was to keep Fíli under house arrest, that he would make sure it was Óin’s lad who attended Thorin Stonehelm’s wounds and that he would be back to deal with Fíli later. Dwalin had nodded, the boy in his arms went limp. The little fight he had left was gone. Dwalin let Fíli press his head into his chest and scream, to pound his fists and sob. Dwalin let him cry and howl and kept a reassuring hand on his back. Dwalin knew of separation anxiety, he knew of being apart from your brother. Without Balin at his side he felt vulnerable. The pain and heartache Fíli must be going through was unimaginable to him, Dwalin knew he owed his strength and his courage to his brother. It was Balin’s daily ravens that kept him strong, and his oath to Thorin that had stopped him leaving. |
6b2b31003d4e4cae87c8f050171a0041 | ['b907dbca0ddb4f8c91952bfa88a2be5c'] | Time was running out, there was now 40 minutes left till the concert starts and I had to rush back to get into costume and hair/makeup. But first, I had to find 형. I'll have to explain him the situation as fast as possible and then leave her to him for a while. Luckily- today was the performance team's concert day. So they had more stages and I had less. Yesterday was the vocal team's concert day. I was so busy and there was no breaks at all- so I'm glad that I only have to be on stage in the beginning for the first song (including the introductions).
You found the last turn in the hallway and gripped the girl's wrist a little harder. Our hands were getting sweaty now and he didn't want to lose her (especially because she's a danger to herself).
"Here we are," you say, and then you turn the door knob open and dragged both of you inside.
\-----
Once the door opened- you heard a lot of footsteps rushing and people talking. You could see many people holding costumes and stage props going across the room. And then you saw a curtain suddenly open with 밍규 coming out.
"형! What took you so long? It's been like 15 minutes, 형 was getting mad because you weren't come back fast enough." he said rushing over to us.
"And who's fault is that? Here --" 우지 shoved the mic in his hand to 밍규. "Something happened- I kind of caused an accident and I need to talk to the manager, do you know where he is right now?."
밍규 looked behind him and just noticed you were standing there, looking awkward with how out-of-place you seemed. He came closer to you and asked, "Why do you look so 멍?"
"I kind of broke her glasses- she can't see very well- 형!" 우지 caught his manager rushing in the back of the room and told 밍규 to look after me for a minute while he went to talk to the manager.
"So, what's your name?" He asked.
"김연수 --"
"That's a pretty name -- I haven't met many 연수's. And your age?"
"Born in in 97 --"
" AH, we're friends then! Nice to meet you." He took my hand and shook it vigorously.
"ㅋ, me too. But I'm pretty sure I'm older than you! I have an early birthday."
"헐, what a surprise- you look so much younger…"
We kept talking for a while- he didn't seem to be in a rush since he's all in costume- but the rush of the room continued to fill the background of our conversation.
\-----
The manager was rushing down the hallway with a headset on and a clipboard and pen in his hand.
"형!! I need to talk to you."
"THERE YOU ARE 지훈아 --" 형 turned in his tracks and came full throttle to me.
"I heard you were looking for me --"
"I was, you need to go into costume right now we only have 35 minutes left. Go find 리아, she's waiting for you in the costume room."
"Yeah I know, but first I kind of need your help…"
…
"You WHAT?"
"I broke a carat's glasses because I bumped into her and kind of stepped on it and from the strength of the prescription I can say she's as blind as a bat- and It's kind of my fault that she can't see anything and enjoy the concert so like I was saying, is it ok if I let her watch from backstage and come to the fan-meeting afterwards?"
"I didn't mean it literally, don't explain the whole story again..."
I begged so hard I was pulling down on his shirt to show my desperation.
"형, she came all the way here and bought a ticket to see us, but it's my fault she can't enjoy it now. It doesn't sit well with me. It's going to ruin my performance during the concert and I want to pay her back for the glasses and experience." I kept on talking to make him understand- this wasn't about a give and take relationship. I love our Carats as much as anyone else in the group- they are who made us who we are today. And if it's my own fault that a Carat can't watch for a performance they paid for- then he wants to make it up to them.
"Even if you say that, we would be giving too much away for free just because of some broken glasses!" He put a hand to his face that showed his stress lol.
"They're worth 100,000 won."
"WHAT KIND OF GLASSES IS THAT GIRL WEARING."
"She's from out of country- they're usually around that price. I looked it up already ㅠㅠ."
"Even if those are expensive, we might as well just buy a new pair for her instead."
"She already spent money to buy a ticket, came all the way from America, and now she can't see anything because I broke her 100,000 won glasses. What kind of artist just pays for new glasses and leaves it at that. It would be me fault that she can't be there for the concert."
"…"
"Pleaseeee 형엉어엉응!!!"
"…"
\-----
밍규 and i were now sitting on a couch talking while the room was still bustling about.
"Wow, 우지형 is everywhere."
I blushed, "Yeah, I kind of really love him a lot." I responded.
밍규 was asking me who my favorite member was in Seventeen- and I showed him my phone's lock and home screen, along with a custom made ring with his name on it. He was surprised and asked me what was so good about the short devil, and to respond I just laughed and told him that that's what I loved about him.
"His face is just repeated on this ㅋㅋㅋ, I gotta show the members!" | 9bae54daac334710ace1a8bb22388d61 | ['b907dbca0ddb4f8c91952bfa88a2be5c'] | "NOOO, please don't. I'm embarassed enough… Speaking of which, I'm surprised no one else in the group has passed by here."
"They're all practicing in the waiting room. This is where the staff take care of props and plan for the concert. There's about 20 minutes until it starts now so I should head there too."
We heard some fast footsteps coming from the hallway of the open door- and then 우지 and the manager came our way.
"우지 형! Manager 형! There you are, I was getting worried you were taking so long." 밍규 said.
"I had to get into costume and beg him to let her stay backstage and come to the after-party."
"I get to stay here AND go to the after-party?" I responded- I wasn't sure what was happening- I could tell it was 우지 from his height, so I guessed that the man next to him was the manager- he looked kind of mad with the ways his eyebrows were scrunched up.
"See, even she thinks its too much." The manager responded.
"Can't help it, she won't let me buy her a new pair- so this is what I can do to repay her of her 100,000 won glasses."
"100,000 WON??" 밍규 shouted, "ㅋㅋㅋㅋ Those are some expensive glasses you have 연수 ㅋㅋ."
I blushed again, I forgot how things were much cheaper here- Mum had bought me glasses worth 20 dollars when she came back from Korea 4 years ago.
"Alright, EVERYONE THERE'S 10 MINUTES LEFT UNTIL THE OPENING STARTS SO GET IN YOUR PLACES." The manager exclaimed and everyone in the room responded with a "Yes sir!"
A hand was placed on my shoulder- "Hey, let me talk to you for a second." 우지 had said. He took us out into the hallway to get away from the loud room.
"It's kind of hectic so I'll keep it short- i won't be on stage that much today so i'll come see you after the opening song and intro. If you want to see the concert you can take a peek over there-" 우지 pointed at the curtains above a set of metal stairs in the back side of the room. "Behind that curtain will be backstage- it's connected to this room so just remember to stay in this area so i can find you easily." He continued.
I just nodded at all of this and kept quiet. I was worried I'd be left alone. Everyone was busy and moving fast paced- the start of a concert really is hectic. You were kind of a hindrance here and it wouldn't feel good to ask a staff to keep you company. It doesn't help that you came to the concert alone, 언니 didn't want to come along to a concert that she didn't care about. 우지 probably noticed I was worried because he had put his hand to my head and gave it a pat.
"It's ok." He smiled. God was his smile as handsome as it was adorable, "Just enjoy the concert and wait for me to find you. It'll be soon." He let go and went to the other members who were waiting to do their chant to start the concert.
You smiled. "It's ok," and then you watched Seventeen do their group chant and give each other hugs and high-fives before going on stage.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading the first chapter!!- this is a test chapter. Depending on people's response to my Korean text i might change it to Romanization (although i can't bear to ㅠㅠ).
> I kept having dreams about meeting Jihoon and this was the best one- It was stuck in my head so I decided to make a fanfic based on it LOL.
>
> Author trivia: my name is 김연수 :)
> Here are my phone screens ;)
> https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B6aN7Y56cNoqaGljb1dxMEhXSEYxQkxFTVVSdkZLTlM3Ml9n
> https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B6aN7Y56cNoqSjd3dHRwQ0NSNHNQY05JQ2ZqYlYzWDlXWFpz
>
> Check your answer! 100 USD would be approx 100,000 KR WON! |
565ec1baa4114651a3bc45d75d125cbb | ['b9186e79a5ca4b40a080d59bdc77ee76'] | Longing
**Author's Note:**
> this is like, the first thing ive posted in Months and it was written in like 45 minutes! I didnt proofread it, I just felt the need to write something like this. Enjoy!
> Follow my tumblr @eboybf
The wedding came too fast, too fast for Sasuke’s liking.
He would’ve never attended if Naruto hadn’t asked him to come.
“Will you please come?” His smile was sweet, shining like the sun. “You know we’ve always been like brothers, and I want you to attend as my brother!”
His heart dropped into his stomach, his chest searing with the pain of longing; it was like thorns grew in his throat, not allowing him to speak.
Without a word though, he nodded. Naruto grinned and hugged him, the tight hugs he loved so much but would never openly say he did.
When Naruto was gone, Sasuke cried and the tears felt like they’d never stop. Years of repressed feelings came with them, finally pouring out from over the years. Maybe in a different life, where he didn’t leave the village, he could be with Naruto.
He wanted to be 13 again, horrendously crushing on the blonde boy and hoping—praying—he would reciprocate. He remembered the nights he stayed up, thinking about Naruto; kissing him, holding hands with him, marrying him…
Back then, he knew it was stupid and was not the Uchiha way. He was supposed to be focused on killing Itachi, not chasing after a boy who wouldn’t love him other than a brother.
//
Sasuke sat next to Iruka during the ceremony. Jealousy ate at his stomach as he watched Hinata marry the love of his life.
Perhaps in another life he could’ve been a friend of Hinata, but now she was a rival for love he could never have. She was so beautiful, so ethereal, it made Sasuke sick to his stomach. He hated her silk black hair, her downcast eyes hiding her joy, he hated everything about her in the moment. He hated her perfectly white Kimono, and how she secretly held hands with Naruto under their sleeves. He wished he was in her place, smiling like he’d never smiled before..
The afterparty was probably the worst, though; Sasuke had found the alcohol and downed almost all of it to numb his grief. He must’ve wandered off into the gardens, because that’s where Naruto found him.
“I love you, I’m in love with you…” Sasuke slurred, pressed up against Naruto’s chest. “I’ve loved you for so long, oh my god…” The words fell out of his mouth and in his drunk drowsiness, he almost felt mortified for it. But then again, he didn’t care in the moment.
Naruto didn’t push him away, and for a moment, Sasuke hoped the blonde would look down and kiss him. He longed for Naruto’s soft lips on his, he wanted to run his hands through the blonde man’s hair. He wanted Naruto to leave his wife, leave the village, and only want Sasuke for the rest of his days; how selfish he must sound. He was desperate for the blonde, for his touch and his love.
In the garden, no one could see them if they did kissed.
Just one kiss...
Instead of leaning down for a kiss, Naruto grinned. “What am I gonna do with you, Sasuke...” Sasuke could smell the alochol on his breath. “I’m practically gonna have to carry you home!”
And that’s what he did. Sasuke kept his face pressed into his chest, taking in the blonde’s smell. He wanted to remember it for as long as he lived, for this might be the last time the two men will be this close. Naruto’s familiar warmth was so comforting and loving, it felt like just a moment before the blonde placed him in his bed, the warmth leaving him.
Sasuke slept alone that night, drunkenly whispering Naruto’s name as he cried. | a11249b3cf354bc6994a5d69b7ca7674 | ['b9186e79a5ca4b40a080d59bdc77ee76'] | Richie took a seat on the curb with Stan, and the Jewish boy finally got a good look at him since Neibolt happened over two weeks ago. Richie had looked like he finally showered, cleaned his fingerprints of his glasses and overall cleaned up pretty nicely in his ironed blue suit(and wow, he looked good in it). Stan looked back down to the pavement, feeling heat in his cheeks; he cursed himself for gazing too long at his friend.
“You’re real ballsy, Uris.” Richie finally said to break the silence. “I really didn’t think you had it in you to do that kinda shit.” The boy sighed deeply and grabbed his heart dramatically, putting on that wailing mother voice he used for times exactly like these.
“My boy, he’s learned so well from his mama Tozier!”
Stan had to laugh at that, the voice sounding so different from Richie’s own that it actually kinda impressed him(not like he’d tell him that, it’ll inflate his ego more than it already was).
“You know I’m dead, right?” Stan said. “Like, my parents are probably going to bury me alive and piss on my grave when I get home. I’m going to have to change my name and move to Yemen to live as a sheep farmer at this rate.”
“Well, if you need a wonderful husband to marry for tax benefits over in Yemen, I’m always here for you.” Richie replied. Stan couldn’t help but grin at his stupid comments. They sat in silence after that, Richie now pressing his fingertips against loose rocks on the road; Stan knew that it was really Richie thing, for him to need constant stimulation when there was a long silence he happened to be apart in and couldn’t talk his way out of. He noticed it in class when he rolled his pencil in his hand whenever a teacher was giving a long lecture, or when he tapped his foot in anticipation for a snarky comment when Bill or Eddie was going on a tangent about whatever Bill and Eddie might talk about. It was so incredibly Richie that Stan just couldn’t put this stupid information back into his mind, watching the boy’s hands as they pressed against the rocks.
The silence continued like that, Richie messing with the rocks and Stan side-eyeing him intently as he did it. The two obviously weren’t sure what to say next, despite being best friends. In a normal conversation, banter would fill the holes in the quiet or at least snarky comments and shitty comebacks would do the trick to avoid awkward silence.
“Look, I know what you were talking about during that speech.” Richie said, finally deciding to break the quiet. “I know that you think...we don’t care for you or like you, I get it! Sometimes I think that too when you guys constantly ‘Beep, Beep’ or tell me, ‘no one cares, Richie’!”
Stan’s gaze fell when the other boy mentioned the Loser’s constant belittlement of him; it was obviously a joke at first, just some friends tired of hearing jokes about screwing Eddie’s mom or some kind of corny joke he cooked up while in the shower, but he could see how it might feel like they genuinely didn’t want him around.
“I’m so sorry if we make you feel that way, dude. I—“ Stan began, but was interrupted by Richie’s finger to his mouth.
“My emotional baggage is for another day, Stan the man.” The dark-haired boy said. “I just, I wanted to let you know I’m sorry, and this sorry comes from the rest of the losers, too.”
“I’m sorry if it felt like we didn’t care for you, Stan. I—We do genuinely love you. We love having you around even if all you do is talk about bird’s sex calls.” Richie pressed his glasses against his nose, looking down at the pavement in embarrassment—obvious from a blush growing on his face. “Sorry I got all corny on ya, Stanny. Not really in character for me.”
Stan wasn’t sure what to say at Richie’s words; Trashmouth never got that emotional or deep, ever. The words didn’t feel hollow to him for once either as they usually did, usually in an attempt to reassure him that his self-hatred hadn’t spread to his other friends to make them hate him as well.
When words wouldn’t come to his head, Stan took the physical route and hugged Richie. It was a tight hug by his own standards—though some might disagree from the lack of muscle on his arms—but he prayed that this hopefully got the message across to his friend.
Richie went stiff for just a moment, probably in shock that the Jewish boy would even want to be in a two mile radius of him and much less touch him, before leaning into the hug and putting his arms around Stan’s waist.
“Thank you.” Stan muttered into Richie’s shoulder, muffled slightly by the suit’s fabric.
The hug lasted a bit too long, slowly losing its tightness as they both realized it was kinda weird for two teenage boys to hug for this long. Richie let go first, pressing his glasses up on his nose once again, a red blush flushing his freckled cheeks. Stan could feel the heat radiating off his face, so he assumed he looked the same.
It was obvious they both wanted to say something again, but they were interrupted by the doors of the synagogue opening and footsteps clamoring down the stairs. Stan looked back to see his mother at the front of the pack, genuine worry in her face as she made her way to her son sitting on the sidewalk.
“Forgot to tell you he didn’t sit in the road, Mrs. Uris.” Richie greeted, trying to hide the blush on his face.
“Stanley James Uris,” his mother began, brushing off Richie‘s comment. “Your dad is furious with you currently; you really had to embarrass him didn’t you?” Her face full of worry was turning into a weird mix of anger and disappointment.
“I’m...sorry.” Stan replied. He knew that sorry wasn’t enough to fix the scene he had just caused, but he truly did mean it. “I really am, I just…” He trailed off from his sentence, not sure if he wanted to continue it.
Mrs. Uris rolled her eyes and gestured both boys up, brushing rocks off both their suits. “We’ll talk about this at home, Stanley. For now, can you please try not to embarrass us again? We spent too much money on your afterparty for you to stomp out again.” She was already walking down the street before the Jewish boy could reply
Richie looked at him and grinned, taking his hand before walking down the street. “I think I deserve all the cake for making sure you didn’t kill yourself, Stan the man.”
“Beep, beep, Richie.” Stan replied with a grin on his face. |
58b9b5f75b24454199cfdef448d9d0b1 | ['b91dc9871e05410b95e029f35cd252a3'] |
1. Reality Sucks
**Author's Note:**
> The OCs at the start are deliberate and will play into the plot later on, so don't freak when you read names that aren't in the actual canon thing, okay?
_Beauregard struggled against his restraints, cursing as he continued to agitate the open wounds around his wrists, feeling the warmth of fresh, scarlet blood trailing down a long path along the chilled flesh of his bony forearms. Chilled to the bone in the damp, dark cell he was trapped in, the man writhed, barking as loud as he was able, demanding for his immediate release. However, his demands were met with nothing but bitter silence. For hours, that was all his resistance had earned him, all of his shouting and screaming... Until an all too familiar guard opened the door, that is._
_There was nobody who hated that guard more than Beauregard did. With a cocky aura and an arrogant attitude, Blaike was nothing more than a sadistic bastard who lived only to cause every prisoner he was charged with pain. A cruel smirk adorned the guard's handsome face as the cell door was closed silently behind him._
_"Beau~re~gard~," Blaike drawled out, brushing some of his chocolate brown, messy hair out of his face. His fiery emerald orbs were filled with amusement. "I've heard that you've been rather agitating for the other prisoners and the guards stationed down here..." He sauntered over with a confidence that made the blond haired prisoner sick, bile rising up in the back of his throat at the sight. Blaike's fingers found Beauregard's chin and gingerly tilted it up for their eyes to meet. Scarlet eyes burning with anger was all that met the amused, emerald eyes of the guard. His ginger touch was nothing more than a tease... and the prisoner knew that better than anyone else trapped in the dungeon. "I think I will have to discipline you so you won't be encouraged to try it again..."_
Misaki beamed with some pride as he lifted his pen from the paper. He had been writing for a few days to vent out his inner turmoil, and the way he executed it, he thought, was more than superb. At least that was how he felt about it. He had been feeling a bit... well, trapped lately, feeling weak and not in control of his own life, much like how Beauregard was trapped in a dungeon for a crime he never committed. As for who Blaike was...
Well, that was his dirty little secret that he had no intention on telling. Most anyone could more than likely tell just who it was that he based the guard off of, but he was more than willing to deny it. After all, he could just say that while the mannerisms belonged to one person, Blaike was the world around him.
A Senior in high school, Yata Misaki was a somewhat popular boy among his peers. However, it was more due to his association with his now-graduated friends Suoh Mikoto and Kusanagi Izumo, the previous year. Everyone thought of him and a few other choice people to be amazing for simply hanging out with the two (especially thanks to another now-graduated friend named Totsuka Tatara - may the gods have mercy on his innocent soul), but there were some who thought of them as nothing more than nuisances who were nothing but cocky little brats about their association with the graduates.
However, there was one Senior who refused to even accept that he had been associated with them at all. Simply put, anyone who bore any liking to the graduates irritated the one Senior. Only Misaki was able to talk to him, and even then, the male was an arrogant prick.
Fushimi Saruhiko.
The name of Misaki's personal bane caused a scowl to cross his gentle features. Saruhiko had once been Misaki's best friend, but the moment Mikoto came into the picture, the bespectacled male became distant and cold, diving headlong into his studies and surpassing the brunette in every way. He had even had a girlfriend for a while, and Misaki knew the male wasn't a virgin because the one day he had gone over to talk to him about needing a tutor in Chemistry, he had walked in on the two of them having sex. The only one that had noticed Misaki's horrified expression had been Saruhiko. And boy, did the taller male use it to his every advantage. It wasn't a widely known secret that the brunette was still a virgin, but he would be damned if Saruhiko didn't know it. Any and all mentions of sex made the male blush, especially if a girl was involved.
Misaki became a rambling, shy fool around girls, and may the gods forbid that Saruhiko didn't tease him over it whenever he caught sight of it.
A knock on the door forced the brunette out of his thoughts. Paling, he opened his desk drawer hastily and hit his papers and pen inside under the false bottom. Swallowing, he stood after closing the drawer and went to his door. Opening it slightly, he found himself face-to-face with his mother's latest boyfriend. Any color that had been left in his face drained from it at the sight of the man. Kurosawa Taichi was his mother's latest fixation, and in front of her and in public, he was the perfect boyfriend and man, but when neither of those factors were in effect, he was horrid. Thankfully, Misaki's siblings were spared his torture, but none of his family believed him when he said the man was horrible. | a8342a5703f345c88b57c41d0ca47514 | ['b91dc9871e05410b95e029f35cd252a3'] | Misaki moaned softly at the nipping, parting his lips for him. Feeling Saruhiko's tongue attack his mouth, the brunette knew that he had to protect his dominance. So, with that in mind, he fought against the male's tongue for dominance, wrapping their tongues together and starting the careful dance of war. After a few minutes, Mikasi grabbed Saruhiko under the knees and lifted him up, shakily standing. While the Red was strong, the way he was picking up the Blue was a little bit difficult, especially when his mind was flooded with what he wanted to do to his boyfriend and a tent being perfectly pitched in his pants.
The brunette tried hard to not drop the noirette onto the bed, but it ended up happening anyways. He blushed and squeaked some. "S-sorry!" he exclaimed.
Saruhiko groaned some. "Don't be. I like it rough," he growled out, grabbing Misaki and pulling him roughly down. "Now strip for me and make me _beg_."
Misaki scrambled to comply before thinking that he should make a show out of his stripping. Slowly, the male started to peel off his white hoodie, showing off his taught arm muscles, followed shortly by his black tank top. He heard Saruhiko whimper and spared him a glance. When he saw the male palming himself in need, Misaki knew instantly that he couldn't allow it out of preservation of his one-time dominance. He grabbed his hoodie and got on top of the male, licking his lips. Grabbing Saruhiko's hands, he tried to muster up a seductive smirk. "Now, now... You stupid monkey, we can't be having this..." he mused though a little shakily. He tied his wrists with the sleeves of his hoodie before he tied one end of the hoodie to the head board of the bed. "There~."
Saruhiko whimpered in need, rolling his hips. "Misaki," he breathed, biting his bruised, bottom lip. "M-Misaki, I need you..."
"I'm not even down to my boxers yet," snorted the brunette, peeling himself off of the male. "So wait and enjoy the show~." So, taking his time, he started to shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. He got onto the bed again and had Saruhiko twist his bonds so he could be on his knees. "Show me how skilled your mouth is," he demanded, honestly hoping that the male maybe-kind of-sorta liked dirty talk like that.
And boy, did Saruhiko love it.
Saruhiko licked his lips as he shifted to nip at Misaki's hip bone, drawing out a startled gasp and hesitant moan from the brunette. The noirette gazed up at the male as he descended to his bulge, cupping it with his mouth and tonguing it and sucking it. Misaki bucked his hips and that alerted Saruhiko that he had no control of the male's hips to keep him from doing that, but the moan it dragged out of the male was delightful and encouraging. He suckled on his boyfriend for a while longer, enjoying every little pleasure filled moan that escaped the Red, before he pulled away and nipped at the waist band of his boxers. Getting a good hold of the waist band with his teeth, Saruhiko slowly started to pull the boxers down until the waist band was just under Misaki's sac.
Gingerly, he nipped at the tip of Misaki's exposed member before he leaned down and nipped at his slit. "S-Saru, d-don't tease...!" begged Misaki, but Saruhiko was feeling naughty and disobedient. If I disobey his orders, I can beg him to punish me, the noirette thought with a pleasurable shiver rolling down his spine. He licked from his tip to his base and back up again, dipping his tongue into the slit. When Misaki tangled his fingers in his hair, he groaned and rolled his hips, helplessly humping the air in need of friction. Soon enough, though, he too had had enough with his own teasing, his mouth engulfing the head of his boyfriend's member.
Misaki breathed in sharply at the feeling of Saruhiko's mouth engulfing him, having never experienced anything more pleasurable in his life. He started to pant heavily, bucking his hips to force his boyfriend to take more of him into his mouth. The more that his boyfriend took into his mouth, the more stars that clouded the brunette's vision. He nearly exploded when he felt the sudden mixture of his member going down the noirette's throat, content humming, and the male's devious tongue swirling around his girth. "F-fuck!" he growled, bucking his hips roughly. He had to give his boyfriend credit - whenever the taller did that to him, he started to choke and sputter. Saruhiko didn't even flinch.
Saruhiko knew that his Red lover was already on the edge, and he was determined to send him over and beyond. Bobbing his head nice and slow up and down his cock, the noirette suckled and hummed, shivering every time the head slid down his throat. After not even a minute, he felt Misaki twitch in his mouth and knew instantly what was to come.
He took his boyfriend down his throat just as the first orgasm of the night wracked throughout Misaki's body. Swallowing every little drop of his boyfriend's hot, sticky semen, he pulled off of him. He then slowly started to lick him clean before looking up at the panting male with innocent yet mischievous eyes. "You're not already spent, are you, Mi~sa~ki~?" he teased in a husky voice.
"F-fuck you..." ground out the brunette. Saruhiko actually laughed at that. "Wh-what?"
"That's what you're supposed to be doing to me, virgin~," smirked Saruhiko, wiggling his backside suggestively in the air. |
ddb47fe455fb454caf3fad5ca8640ce5 | ['b922186826b44f1890c760f6f7e405a0'] | Kaytoo made a distinctive scoffing noise- a newly learned mannerism- and Cassian glanced around, curious. Whatever Kay thought of this direction in the roleplay, his body language gave nothing away.
“You greatly overestimate my capacity for _want_ , Captain,” he said briskly. But Cassian felt the metal fingers loosen.
“Maybe,” said Cassian, barely a whisper, “but I don’t think you’ve overestimated mine.”
Gently, Cassian turned around, took Kay’s larger hand between two of his own. Kay was peering at him intently, his posture stiff and menacing. Whether for excitement or a reflexive sense of threat, Cassian felt a surge of adrenaline dart up his spine.
He slowly traveled their fingers between his legs, his cock swollen and slick, dampening his briefs. Kaytoo gave a twitch of astonishment, detached formality swapped for hopeful affection.
“Did… I do that?” he blurted, then flinched his head, annoyed at himself for the lapse in character.
Cassian hid a smile, reached his opposite hand around Kay’s neck. The droid allowed himself to tip forward, and Cassian pressed a kiss below one of his glowing eyes.
“Well don’t get me too flustered, I’m not done detaining you,” K-2 retorted, incredulous. “God, maybe it’s a good thing I _was_ reprogrammed, one smile from the rebel Captain and-”
“Shush, you,” Cassian chuckled, kissed below his other eye in turn. Kay’s chest made an uncalculated whirr, the droid fidgeting away in an attempt to gather his bearings.
“ _Right_ ,” K-2 snapped, but Cassian was already tugging him toward the bed, straddling his lap when he sat down.
“Yes…?” Cassian hummed, arching his back and returning Kay’s palm to the wetness of his cock. Kaytoo applied a deliberate, rolling pressure, and Cassian felt a prickle of heat uncoil within his stomach.
“Yes. ...as you were,” K-2 managed, the whirring unmistakable as Cassian’s gasps drew shorter, tangled and needful. The metal fingers slipped and unwound, straining against the pull of Cassian’s trousers, the rebel gritting his teeth.
“Hold me down,” Cassian growled, thighs clenched against the harder plating of Kay’s. “...I want your fingers inside me.”
Kaytoo’s processors made an audible pop, but Cassian didn’t have long to consider it. The droid flipped him on his back, wedged his free hand into Cassian’s shoulder. His grip was strong, unrelenting. Kay listened for Cassian’s response, and when it came in the form of a heady exhale, moved a single digit to the fold of his opening, tenderly pushing into the slit.
“Another,” Cassian murmured, boots braced against the edge of the mattress, knees digging into Kay’s torso.
“Another will be a lot,” Kaytoo offered, but Cassian could feel himself stretched for it, tilted his hips so that Kay could get in. Slowly, the droid stroked a second fingertip around his entrance, his longer digits soaked up to the knuckle. He eased his middle finger alongside the first, and Cassian filled his lungs, deep, groaned into the breadth of them. When his muscles seized, Kay pulsed gently back and forth, teasing until Cassian began to flinch and tremble, small surges of pleasure rippling through his core.
“Mmhm, keep going...” Cassian nodded fiercely, and Kaytoo leaned closer, the weight of him compounding the throbbing to a bright, reeling crest. He shouted, torn and senseless as Kay’s fingers plunged and tucked, shuddered, pulled him over the brim. It was a freefall, glinting and opaque, his vision blurred and sounds vicious in the dim.
“Cassian? Cassian, are you alright? Did you come?” Kay was babbling as he caught his breath, chest heaving and mouth ajar.
“Hey, yeah, yeah-” Cassian gasped, threw him a weak grin. He cupped a palm to the side of Kaytoo’s face, choked out a laugh when he realised how soppy he must look.
“Oh. I wasn’t certain. But you do look very relieved,” K-2 answered, his pitch returning to a satisfied neutral.
Cassian was too spent to do much more than laugh. He let his arms flop over Kay’s upper back, listened to the muted swish of the droid’s thermal regulators. He wanted to tell Kaytoo he appreciated it. Or more to the point, that he cared. That it mattered. The closer he veered to the words he was looking for, the stickier his throat became.
“Do you want to do one more crazy thing tonight,” he ventured, offhand. “And lay with me awhile?”
The droid was unreadable, still caged awkwardly over Cassian’s smaller frame. Cassian knew there was little practicality to it, his bunk wasn’t a charging dock, ill-fitting even for him.
“That _would_ be wild,” Kaytoo agreed. Softened his posture to sink into Cassian’s.
Cassian mumbled something, Kay didn’t ask. He waited until Cassian’s breathing eventually slowed, then gave a tentative shuffle, Cassian thought to get up. Instead, the droid rearranged, shyly lowered his head to the middle of Cassian’s chest.
Somewhere, between the dark and wherever it was they called home, Captain Cassian Andor smiled.
- | 8123728f13be4613b85c32d415eca266 | ['b922186826b44f1890c760f6f7e405a0'] | **Author's Note:**
> I adore sickfic, I adore Cassian, I really wanted Cassian to get sick... and then this is what happened :3
Cassian was on self-assigned weapons maintenance when he heard it the first time. He was edgy, sleepless, and polishing away what little carbon buildup had accrued in the ship’s ion blasters was more restful than staring at the roof of his bunk. Only this night, it didn’t seem to be working. His last disguise was still with him, the Imperial officer who’d slipped an error code into the right hyperdrive. It wouldn’t take long for the risk to pay off, a lot longer for Cassian to forget.
“Kaytoo? You alright?”
There had been a high-pitched shout from the cockpit, unexpected enough to dispel the thought. K-2SO rarely varied his modulation in the most dire of circumstances, and Cassian wasn’t aware he spoke at all when alone. Instead of an answer, Kay produced a similar outburst again, and Cassian quirked an eyebrow, amused. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve sworn it sounded like a sneeze.
“All good in here?” Cassian poked his head into the cabin, surprised to find the droid still working on the backup transmitter. K-2 had been inspecting and re-circuiting wires since they’d landed, a task that usually took less than an hour. But then, Cassian considered, maybe droids had off-days too.
“I believe so,” K-2 affirmed, staring at him askance. “Is everything ‘all good’ out there?”
Cassian gave a guilty grin- his look toward the disassembled transmitter hadn’t been as subtle as he hoped.
“I thought I heard you yell.”
Cassian expected another cagey reply for this too, and was surprised when the droid appeared to wince instead.
“Am I disturbing you?”
“What? No.” Cassian laughed, stopped slouching and went to him. “Not at all. I’m grateful for the distraction.”
He placed a hand on Kaytu’s shoulder, gave a light squeeze. They were still testing the waters with physical cues of reassurance, though unpredictably, it was so far Kay who more often sought and returned them.
On this occasion, however, the droid pulled away. Cassian frowned. K-2’s outer plating had felt distinctly overheated, incongruent with the regulated cabin airflow. Cassian reached again- no nonsense this time- but Kay responded with a gesture of alarm, distanced himself as rapidly as he could, and made the same involuntary exclamation that had brought Cassian over in the first place.
Cassian’s eyes widened in astonishment. He knew sentient droids were as capable of learning new behaviors as people. But those behaviors were enacted by choice. _This_ , or what it seemed to be, was a biological echo that served no practical purpose for a synthetic. What perplexed him more, was that K-2 did not seem nearly as confused by the whole episode as he was.
“I’m sorry?” Kaytu offered, after several seconds of Cassian staring.
“We need to take a look at your interaction patterning,” Cassian managed, then bent under the flight console for his utility kit. “I can probably get in without a full shutdown, you can guide me through. Or I can use the microscan. Actually, it could be a data issue- or a protocol clash. We might need to run diagnostics.”
He was exhausted, ill at ease. In truth, the rebel had no idea what could cause such a glitch, and couldn’t ignore the fact that his programming was likely at the heart of it.
“Or,” said K-2, his tone pointedly dry. “You could just ask me.”
Distracted, Cassian glanced up from his rummaging. Had Kay’s voice become noticeably _husky_? Cassian ran a hand over his mouth. Maybe he really did need to sleep.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” K-2 tried again, gentler this time. “My internal cooling system misaligned due to rapid troposphere modification, it self-corrects within 79 minutes. The replicated mannerisms are less uncommon than you think- a symptom of spending too much time with organics, really.”
Cassian wondered if this was an attempt at a joke. Kay didn’t pause long enough for him to decide.
“My imprinting code occasionally adds observed aspects of human behavior into my communication relays, to allow for a broader spectrum of non-verbal understanding between myself and nonsynthetics.”
Cassian set the toolkit aside. Now that Kaytu had pointed it out, he could hear the faint whirr of the droid’s thermal regulators at work, the sound oddly comforting in the grounded still.
“So, what you’re telling me,” said Cassian, slowly getting to his feet, “is that you have a temperature and your coding wants me to know?"
“ _Want_ , is a relative concept,” the droid stated crisply. “And, given our circumstances, I can assure you that I do not, intentionally or otherwise, _want-_ ” he fell silent when Cassian wrapped an arm loosely around his middle.
“Is there anything I can do?” Cassian asked quietly. The warmth of Kaytu’s chest wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Kay tipped his head down, stared at the smaller figure. Hesitated. One arm shyly tucked around Cassian’s shoulders in return.
“This. Is… fine.”
Cassian hid a smile, brought his other hand to rest at the solid of Kay’s back. The droid’s posture, naturally unaccommodating to such closeness, eventually drooped against Cassian’s arms, his eyes dimmed to resting mode. Cassian listened to the humming of his central core, steadied his grip when Kaytu leaned into him.
“I’m keeping you up,” K-2 said eventually.
“You’re keeping me company,” Cassian murmured. They stared over the dashcon, the tangle of wires and the horizon brightening beyond.
He didn't let go. |
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