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43e25fcf3a1e4ac09f1abd6aed35cae0 | ['b92eca4567d647ccb83734f4ccfa5dd2'] | “What’s the set-up for?” Scott asks, glancing at the candles that Marin’s lighting, the herbs Deaton has spread on the ground of his spacious office. The desk is pushed to the wall, and a large circle is drawn with chalk on the floor.
“We need to de-bug you,” Deaton says, abnormally frank. “Make sure you haven’t got any magical traces on you before we take our next steps.”
“Are you going to tell me who that woman was?” Scott asks, patient. He knows Stiles doesn’t get along with Deaton, but he respects and loves his mentor despite how long it tends to take him to spit things out.
“That woman,” Deaton says quietly, “was Mary Webb, an initiate in the Circle of Ten.” Deaton herds him into the chalk circle and starts laying herbs down around it, muttering under his breath. Marin finishes with the candles and joins him, a large book open on the desk.
Scott stands and waits. He’s been the subject of magic often enough by now to know that he’ll feel something - even if he’s not sure what it is - when it happens. After a few moments there’s a strange feeling, like he’s been under a sheet and it’s suddenly stripped away from him. He shivers.
“So what’s the Circle of Ten?”
“Witches,” Marin says vehemently. He thinks that’s a little unfair, considering she’s a druid and all.
“Especially vicious witches,” Deaton says more measuredly. “Who are looking for a way to unleash the power of the Nemeton and use it to enslave a good portion of humanity and the supernatural alike.”
“And how do they plan to do that?” Scott asks, with a sinking feeling that he knows the answer.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that, Scott?” Marin asks, and Scott feels the prickle of claws at the back of his neck. He breathes in deep and nods - whatever it is she wants to show him, he’s better off knowing about than not.
“I’m ready.”
Deaton sighs, sounding older than his years. “I’m not so sure about that.”
It’s the last thing Scott hears before he falls into blackness.
_ He’s been here for days. The cell is sickly sweet with the smell of rotten food. He won’t eat anything they give him, won’t drink anything but water he watches them pour straight from the sink. He knows he’s going to die here but he can choose how. He can starve to death, rather than be their willing sacrifice to the slaughter. _
_ “You know it’s going to hurt just as bad if you’re hungry, right?” one asks him, and the alpha growls at her in response. _
_ “Mary,” she says to the other one, the blonde one that seems to do all their dirty work. “Go in the cell and clean it up. It smells like shit down here.” _
_ Mary looks like she wishes she could growl herself, but she opens the cell with a flick of her wrist and some muttered words that the alpha can barely hear. He’d make his escape, but there are wolfsbane-infused chains around all his limbs. He’s weak and tired, he’d never make it out of their compound alive. Besides, the longer he stays here, the longer he can distract them from looking for his pack. _
_ “If you won’t talk, she’s just going to kill you faster,” a dark-haired witch with a nasty scar down the side of her face says, tossing him easily back in the cell. By now he’s broken down and eaten their food. He’s starving, his body struggling to regenerate without fuel, without rest, with the constant exposure to wolfsbane. The cuts on his abdomen don’t heal like they should. They get infected, weep poison onto his skin. He smells terrible, offensive to even their blunt human noses, and they come in and spray him down like a dog one day. He nearly howls as the water tears open his scabbed-over skin, cutting him fresh. It’s the worst he’s ever felt, and he knows this is just going to get worse. _
_ “Where’s the rest of the pack, dog?” Rowena, their leader, commands of him. She’s a tall, stately figure in black robes. The rest of them look like they’re playing at witchcraft most of the time, but this one - she’s horrifically good at what she does. _
_ “I’ll never - never help you find them,” the alpha says, trembling under the pressure of her magic. It rips at him, tears at his skin, presses down like a body of water filling his lungs. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. All he can do is feel, feel, pain resounding through his limbs, until he’s just one huge exposed nerve. He gasps for air, thinking this is it - this is it - _
Scott comes back gasping. He doubles over and vomits into the trashcan next to Deaton’s desk, ridding himself of his dinner along with the stench of rotting meat that hangs in his nose. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.
“The witches,” he says as soon as he can speak. “They - they killed him. The alpha -”
“The one these claws belonged to? Yes, they did,” Marin says softly.
“I’m sorry you had to experience that Scott.” Deaton hands him a towel that he produced from one of the cabinets. He sounds genuinely sorry.
“Are they - are they after my pack?” Scott thinks instantly of Kira, Malia, of Liam and Lydia being tortured by that woman - of Stiles, who isn’t superhuman at all. His stomach turns again, and he has to retch over the trash can one more time.
“Not this time,” Deaton says gently. “They figured out that they can get what they need out of just an alpha - a true alpha, even better. The purer the sacrifice, the greater the magic.” | fabb56a4e5f647d7809dfff6052a2e5e | ['b92eca4567d647ccb83734f4ccfa5dd2'] | “You did it,” Cora tells him, and he can smell her, smell the lingering traces of salt on her skin, sweat or tears or both. She lays down with him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He wants to sit up, to wrap them both up in his arms and bring them close to his heart, but his muscles protest even the faintest motion, so he lets Cora pet at his arm instead.
His head is lifted gently and then it’s in someone’s lap, and the sweet, soft scent of pack - of _his_ pack, not the Beacon Hills pack, but the Hale pack, his family and his home - surrounds him. Laura’s fingers scratch idly at his scalp, sending trills of pleasure through him, easing the tension from his neck and shoulders.
Cora shifts against him and then there’s someone on his other side too: Erica and Boyd both press up close, snuggling in near his ribs. He opens his eyes just barely, but he doesn’t have to see them to feel them, to feel the way their hearts beat with his blood in them.
“I can’t believe you found us,” Boyd says, and he does sound disbelieving, like maybe he still doesn’t know the way that Derek loves him, loves all of them, deep in places that are overgrown with trees.
“I had to try,” Derek grits out, before Erica shushes him with one finger over his lips. Her hands look strange without their armor of red nail polish, softer and younger than they had when he carried her body away from the vault. She had looked young then, too, but life and death and life again has lent her an air of innocence she rejected before.
“Don’t talk,” she says, and smiles without her trademark smirk. “You’ll probably ruin it.”
His chest burns through the laugh, but it’s worth it to hear Cora snort, to feel Boyd’s rumbling chuckle through his skin and see the flash of glee in Erica’s eyes.
“Hey, there is no way that you guys started making fun of Derek without me, is there?” Isaac asks, flopping down next to Cora in a sprawl of limbs that barely makes sense. “Listen, I’ve been saving up zingers for years now. Do you even know how many werewolf jokes hunters have? My quiver is completely full.”
Cora cuffs him in the shoulder on Derek’s behalf, but there’s no animosity there. They wrestle a moment, playful, until Scott and Stiles join in, too, and then it’s a mad rush of pack members crowding around him with warm breath and soft hands, petting gently at skin that has ached with the want to belong to them. They form of a web of arms and legs, heads on chests and stomachs and thighs, until the entire pack is there and the only sound is the soft snuffled breaths of wolves and foxes, humans and… not exactly humans, but close. And at the center of it, Derek, covered by their protective arms. Sunlight breaks dimly through a window to his left like the promise of a new beginning, something that isn’t defined by violence or pain, by the ashes in his mouth or the stretch of unseen scars.
A new start for him.
“You did a good thing, Der,” Laura says in barely a whisper, and he feels it to his bones, the warm joy of having her back, of being safe within her hold.
A new start for them all.
**Author's Note:**
> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
>
> Come find me on LINK. |
b94299984dc24c268c9ce91755ab4f9a | ['b93a139e00b54c08adabd83fa6289a5f'] | Ben knew he was clawing up against the invisible lines that defined their relationship. Lines that were already raw and pulled tight after their hasty cover-up.
But the beast was awake.
Kylo Ren knew what she wanted. Kylo Ren had seen his name stamped across her perfect backside. Kylo Ren’s teeth marks were still fresh and red on her gorgeous neck.
Kylo Ren could still taste the bit of Rey he marked and he was primed to devour the rest.
The phone in his hand buzzed again.
_[CONFIRM?]_
Kylo Ren howled in frustration and Ben Solo remembered that it wasn’t 1200 B.C.E. and ravishing your coworker – no matter how delicious – was NOT appropriate.
_Where the kriff is my ring?!_
_[CONFIRM.]_ He typed back… Then he cleared his throat and deliberately looked anywhere but Rey.
“And _it is_ unwanted -” he paused (but couldn’t quite resist one last quip), “ _because_ you told me – when we discussed this on the plane – that I was too big to bed.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Why you – I –” She glared at him. “You misheard me. I believe I was actually remarking about _your head_ being too big.”
“So… I’m not too big to bed?”
She threw a pillow at him – secretly grateful to be on familiar footing again.
“Put some clothes on! No one wants to see all that.”
_Lies, lies, lies…_
Ben snorted and pulled a shirt over his head before walking towards the door. He was almost all the way out when he leaned back over the threshold and said-
“Nice bra.”
Rey gasped and yanked her blouse closed.
~~~~```~~~~```~~~~
After a few minutes, Rey emerged, sporting a t-shirt and fresh ponytail.
“How did you manage to take it all apart so fast?” she asked, scanning the wreckage of their room.
“Adrenaline.”
It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie.
Rey took a steadying breath, determined to be cool and collected about her next statement.
“That was good thinking. Throwing me on the bed... ripping my shirt...”
Ben cleared his throat – again (that was happening a lot) and searched for his most nonchalant tone.
“Yeah well… Just trying to… stay safe –” (more throat clearing) “Sorry about your shirt.”
Rey nodded her forgiveness absently.
“We need to get rid of this. They won’t be back.”
Ben slipped the original data drive into his pocket, then passed their copy to Rey. His dulcium ring glinted reassuringly on his hand once again.
“I need to take a walk – just to… clear my head,” he said. “Promise me you won’t leave this room until I get back.”
Rey quirked an eyebrow. Ben advanced on her. Panic suddenly flooded his body.
_This woman is trying to give me a nervous breakdown._
“ _Promise me_ , Rey.”
Her eyes widened.
He could be so pushy sometimes. An odd shivery feeling began to work its way up her spine.
“I’m not an idiot,” she whispered irritably.
Ben couldn’t help it. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
“Not an idiot, “he agreed. “Not indestructible either.”
A warm feeling began to unfold in her chest. She pretended not to know why.
“Promise me.” His tone was gentler this time. He didn’t bother to hide his concern or his fear.
“I promise.”
~~~~```~~~~```~~~~
“Here is your dress-” Kaydel laid a garment bag on the cleanest looking section of Jyn’s workbench. “And there –” she motioned to a corner of the workshop where several suspicious crashes were already in progress. “- are your children.”
Jyn grinned.
“Any problems?” she asked innocently.
“Other than kidnapping Poe for ransom and blackmailing me for a bedtime story?”
“Yes. Other than the usual-”
Several loud bangs suddenly split the air - followed by the distinct sound of glass shattering. Then a shout of -
_“We’re ok! Everything is ok! Don’t come back here! Just – Just stay over there!”_
After a brief pause.
_“Hi mom! Missed you!”_
Kaydel turned back to Jyn.
“Pretty standard.”
~~~~```~~~~```~~~~
Rey sat cross-legged in the middle of their suite. Ben left two minutes ago and she was all alone with her thoughts. The past few hours had been... intense. To say the least. It wasn’t the first time she’d risked her life for a story...
But no sane person faced something like that completely without fear.
Rey Niima did not like being afraid. It was a cold, harsh reminder that she was only human. She rested her forehead on her hands.
When she recognized Savage’s face - and remembered the stories - the _horrible_ stories…
For a moment she let trepidation claw its way through.
Ben saw it. And he pulled her close.
His simple gesture gave her everything she needed. It wasn’t a new thing really...
But it was confusing every time.
_And the bed._
She could still feel his hands on her. As if everywhere his skin met hers, he left traces; like ripples in water or lines in the sand.
Ben Solo was a passionate man. His passion burned bright in everything he did. Intimacy – even feigned intimacy – was clearly no exception. His body sought hers as if the very feel of her skin was like a drug. It had been so long since anyone touched her that way…
Had anyone _ever_ touched her that way?
She was a busy woman. She had little patience for the games and traditional niceties of modern courtship. It all seemed so shallow and empty… Like eating imitation chocolate when you’d tasted the real thing.
Rey had _not_ tasted the real thing. But she’d seen it.
Every time Finn subtly leaned toward Rose for comfort. Every time Kaydel smacked Poe’s ass when she thought no one was looking. Every time Han or Leia sought each other’s hand behind a podium or under a table…
It was there.
She sighed. | 76f2ea4eb7114a18af1e7f139e3a70f0 | ['b93a139e00b54c08adabd83fa6289a5f'] | > The incident with Poe is why the Chandrila hospital wing is always kept fully staffed. It was not the policy the night Kay and Ezra brought him in.
>
> There are actually vents and ducts big enough for people to crawl through and the Grand Gungan has them - because I said so... with my keyboard... Though - from what I understand - big buildings (like casino hotels) are the most likely to have ginormous vents and ducts.
>
> The backstory/love story of Kaydel and Poe is not complete - but it will be - there will be future installments of it. Much of their backstory will also reveal things about Ben, The First Order, Snoke, Vader...and a bunch of other stuff. I figure its more immersive and enjoyable to reveal things that way. So I hope you're down for the ride.
9. The Suite Life
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Niima and Solo go stir crazy.
> Ben goes for a walk, but takes a ride.
> Poe, Finn, and Cassian make a very dangerous decision.
> Kylo Ren and his favorite lady reporter have a memorable moment...
>
> And Ben and Rey come face to face with several versions of the truth.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is contains one of THE moments. A moment I envisioned writing as soon as I came up with this story. I genuinely hope I did it justice. I love everything that happens in this chapter.
>
> Thank You. All of You. For every last drop of support in any and all forms. You make this a better ride just by getting on board. I feel like I'm running out of ways to tell you that you're fabulous and this story would wither without you. I hope you know how much I mean it - each and every single time.
>
> Potential Trigger Warning:
> There is a vague (not detailed) mention of someone being drugged in this chapter.
>
> Clarification: A section of this chapter mentions a cage. To be clear: it is a dancing cage. Entertainment purposes only and could not actually contain or restrain anyone.
>
> Ode to My Forever Beta:
> Best of Husbands and Best of Men.
> I'd still choose you. All the time.
> Every time.
Stakeouts were (for the most part) very formulaic. They involved waiting, monotony, and sleeping in shifts
... at least until something happened.
Ben agreed to take the first four-hour watch while Rey unpacked. Four hours later they switched.
And so it went... for two days.
While not manning the surveillance equipment (which included 4 bugs, several pirated feeds from the parking garage and hallways, and one ideally positioned mini cam), Rey focused her energy into uncovering anything she could about the Black-Sun family. She was grateful for the shifts.
They allowed her to avoid Ben with minimal effort.
Yet…
After two days of sparse verbal communication and no activity from the floor above, she was becoming both desperate and stir crazy. Restlessness drove her to wander around the suite in search of something to take her mind off the absence of the families.
And what it might mean for Leia if they didn’t show up.
She turned to look at Ben. He divided his spare time between sleeping and researching the Hutts. She could see dark circles lining his eyes.
His mother’s predicament weighed heavy on both of them, but he was her son… and without evidence, he would be helpless to save her.
Unexpectedly she felt the urge to go to him... to hold him.
Rey sighed.
If it was anyone else, she might have.
Situations like this often permitted that type of comforting intimacy. She hugged Bodhi when his dog died. Bazine cried on her shoulder when she learned of her brother’s car accident…Rey wasn’t especially close with either of them, but they were part of her community and she was happy to offer support. She didn’t shy away from connections after a lifetime spent without them. Relationships were a gift. Rey understood this better than most. Her co-workers and friends were the closest thing to a family that she had.
And then there was Ben.
They were partners.
That was the simplest possible way to classify what was unquestionably the most complicated relationship of her life.
Rey let out a sardonic chuckle.
Even after all he’d done, she couldn’t really bring herself to be mad _at_ him. He energized her every bit as much as he infuriated her.
She _enjoyed_ him.
In the short years of their partnership (and really, if she were going to be honest, of their entire acquaintance) they pulled their fair share of ridiculous stunts on one another. And they always gave as good as they got. Their interactions set a competitive tone from the very first meeting. If it hadn’t been that stupid confessional... it would’ve been something else.
But there were other moments too. Conversations that lasted hours. Coffee and bagels deposited on each other’s desks. Inside jokes and texting during Luke’s boring meetings… They knew one another better than either of them would admit. Sometimes they were partners, sometimes they were tormentors…
Sometimes they were friends. That’s just how it was.
…or how it had been.
Lately, certain dimensions of their relationship seemed to intensify. Undercurrents that were always there suddenly felt unavoidable...
(Strangely, the appearance of Kylo Ren also added a point of contention.)
And now a violation of trust and a one-sided (unintentional) admission of attraction stewed heavily between them.
Niima and Solo were painfully on edge.
It wasn’t the first time – in even the last 48 hours – that Rey found herself dwelling on her relationship with Ben. It was difficult not to feel betrayed by her own thoughts. She wanted to focus on the story, but her head was muddled with questions… |
c272ad99f6e34e05801b279d1e7b4648 | ['b94c80338265463887101b0954170019'] | Asami had to give him credit; the guy was gutsy. But on the other hand, he could just be exceedingly stupid. At Korra's urging she had gone to Lin Beifong after Tom had trashed her lab, but as of yet the RCPD had been unable to apprehend him. They had gone to the apartment at the address listed on the letter that Asami had stolen from his car and found it empty. The RCPD was staking it out, but Tom had not returned to it. Even Asami hadn't seen him for several days and she had started to wonder if maybe he hadn't given up on following her. But now here he was in the middle of Avatar Korra park, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Good news, actually," she said. "You're still stalking me? Haven't you already gotten what you need? I can't do any tests on your stupid cars."
"I'm just following orders." He looked her up and down in a way that made Asami feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Anyway, the view's not so bad."
Ignoring that, she said: "Well, you'd better pack your bags then, because we've got a long trip ahead of us."
"I figured as much. I'm okay with it. Ba Sing Se is home, after all."
"Your daddy's not there anymore, though. He went somewhere else, right?"
Tom shrugged. "I don't know. We're not very close. That letter you stole is the first I've heard from him in years."
"Somehow, I don't believe you." Asami was waiting for Tom to get to the point. Obviously he had revealed himself to her for some reason, and she guessed it wasn't because he wanted to chit chat with her.
He looked at all the butterfly spirits that were still flitting around Asami. "What's up with them?" he asked nonchalantly.
Shrugging, Asami decided she didn't have time for this and began walking away. "They like me," she replied, and when she left the park, he did not follow her. She walked briskly, hoping to encounter a police officer, but there were none nearby. By the time she got to a phone to call Beifong, Regent had disappeared again.
Finally, the work week ended and Asami went home to her mansion to pack for her trip, so excited that she was practically bouncing around her bedroom. Her plan was to spend the night at Air Temple Island, then she, Pema, the kids, and Bolin would all board one of Future Industry's luxury airships before dawn. They would be in Ba Sing Se by mid-afternoon.
The sun was setting as she crossed the bay in her speedboat and headed up to the main house, which was, as usual, alive with activity. "Hello, dear," said a hassled Pema as she ran after a butt-naked Rohan who had obviously escaped during bath time.
"Hi, Pema. Need some help?"
"That would be lovely."
Together, they managed to trap Rohan in a room, then corner and capture him. Pema scooped him up in a blanket and put on his pajamas before releasing him once again. With that finished, she straightened up, stretched her back, and turned to Asami. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Sure," replied Asami.
They went to the kitchen and puttered about in casual harmony. This was a routine which was very practiced between the two of them. Every time Asami came here, she shared a cup of tea and conversation with the motherly Pema. Once they were seated comfortably at the table, Pema gave her a wicked smile and asked, "So, on a scale of one to ten, how excited are you?"
"Um, I think I'm probably at about a fifteen at this point," laughed Asami. "I can't believe it's only been a month since I've seen her. It feels like forever."
"I know. But you've been keeping in contact, right?"
"Yes, definitely. We talk every day. And I got a letter from her a couple days ago, too." Thinking about the letter brought a sweet smile to her face, and Pema watched her closely.
"What's that smile about?" she teased.
"The letter was… It was really nice." She wondered how much she felt comfortable sharing. Pema was one of her closest confidantes. They had talked about some very personal topics in the past. Finally, she decided on asking: "You've talked to Katara about her relationship with Aang, right?"
"A little," said Pema. "She's pretty open about it, but I think there are some things that I could just never understand. You know, Asami, if you have questions about Avatar things, I could give her a call and introduce you to her."
It was an interesting idea, and Asami considered it very carefully. She had questions, to be sure, but she didn't want to impose on Katara. "Do you think she would mind?"
"Not at all," Pema said sincerely. "If there's one topic Katara never minds discussing, it's love."
Ten minutes later, Pema and Asami were sitting in the telephone room, Asami nervously wringing one of her gloves as she listened to Pema exchange small talk with her mother-in-law. Finally, Pema said, "Well Mom, I have someone who would really like to talk to you, if you don't mind. It's Korra's friend Asami, do you remember her?" There was a silence as she listened to Katara's response, then she said: "I thought you might say that. Here she is."
She handed the receiver to Asami before leaving the room, waving away Asami's silent "thank you." Asami turned her attention to the phone. "Hello, Katara? This is Asami Sato. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."
"No problem, child," replied Katara warmly. "I had a feeling I would be hearing from you one of these days."
"You did?" asked Asami in surprise.
"Oh yes. You should have heard the way Korra talked about you while she was recovering here in the South Pole. From the way it sounded, she loves you very much." | e4f009ddb0d3434fb9eae5854d1b7880 | ['b94c80338265463887101b0954170019'] | Picking at the label on her beer, Jane hesitated. But when she started speaking, it was obvious to Maura that Jane had been thinking about this very topic for quite some time already, since long before Maura had asked. She could tell by the way Jane burst out: “They didn’t even set up a perimeter, Maura!” She got off her seat and began pacing back and forth. “Charlotte’s father reported her missing about two hours after she was last seen. Uniforms showed up and started taking statements, but people were coming and going the whole time! Nobody grabbed her friends, nobody grabbed the softball coach, and they didn’t even get the name of the person who was the last one to see her! All we know was that it was a student, and then the uniform said, ‘ _Great, thanks for the info, bye bye now_.’ I mean, how sloppy can you be? TJ could have done a better job securing the crime scene. And then they canvassed the neighborhood for a few hours, and then they called it quits until the morning!”
Maura was not a cop, but even she was appalled. “Is this all true?”
“Every word. But don’t get me wrong, they did do some things right. They pulled all the CCTV footage right away. They put it out to the media, and that made everyone in the city look for her. If she’d been on the streets of Boston, she would have been found. But she wasn’t. And they did look at everyone close to her. They looked at Hopkins, at the father, at her friends… And from what I can tell, that work was all solid. Really, the only part they bungled was the beginning. But unfortunately, that’s the most important part of any investigation.”
The timer on the oven went off and Maura went to pull the veggie casserole out. Jane had agreed to the meal because it was so smothered in cheese that it could hardly be considered healthy, and Maura had agreed because whatever Jane wanted, Jane got.
“This turned out perfectly,” said Maura, leaning over to check the cook book she had laying open on the counter. “Now the recipe says we let it cool for fifteen to twenty minutes.” It smelled delicious, and Jane wandered over to take a closer look, amused to see Maura set the oven timer for 17 and a half minutes. She wrapped her arms around Maura from behind as she examined the dish, and Maura sighed happily as she leaned back against her. “I think this is my new favorite thing,” she said.
“What, casserole?”
“When you hold me like this,” clarified Maura.
“It doesn’t make you feel smothered?”
“Not at all.”
Jane buried her face in Maura’s hair, breathing her in. She smelled a lot better than the casserole. “How bout now?”
“Still fine.”
Jane ducked down further, nuzzling Maura’s neck before placing slow, deliberate kisses there. “Now?”
Maura tilted her head to give Jane better access. “I admit, I’m having a little trouble breathing now.” She could feel Jane’s smile against her skin. It made her shiver with pleasure. “I don’t know if that technically counts as smothering, though. Smothering has a negative connotation, but this is…”
Now Jane was smiling even bigger. “Positive?”
“Very,” Maura breathed, and she turned her head to meet Jane’s lips over her shoulder. Before she knew it, Jane had spun her around, grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up, and set her down on the kitchen counter. Maura laughed against her lips. “Why do you do that?” she asked, draping her arms over Jane’s shoulders.
“Kiss you? Gosh, Maura, I just don’t know.”
Ignoring this, Maura said, “Pick me up. That’s two times now you’ve done it.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Oh, I like it,” Maura assured her. “I was just wondering why you do it.”
Jane pulled back and looked at her, considering her answer. “Because I’m happy,” she said simply.
“I see. So it’s a physical outlet for an emotional upsurge that you feel the necessity to express but perhaps can’t find the appropriate words to do so.”
“I know the words for it, but saying them would mean I’d have to stop kissing you. Picking you up works a lot better.”
When Jane leaned in to kiss her again, Maura stopped her by putting a finger on her lips. “Jane,” she said softly. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
With an indulgent smile, Jane said: “I love you, Maura.” Before Maura could reply, she kissed her. Afterwards she said, “Okay, your turn. Go.”
“I love you too, Jane.”
7. S2E5 - The Confession
_There are all kinds of reasons why a case might go cold. One of the major factors in the solvability of any case is whether or not a body has been found. These are two distinctly different kinds of cases: Ones with a body, and ones with no body._
_It is incredibly rare to solve a case and get a murder conviction without a body. That’s part of the reason why Charlotte’s case went cold. The BPD didn’t know which of those two types of cases they were working. Was it a missing persons, or was it a homicide?_
_And once the body was found, the case worked towards its conclusion at breakneck speed. It took only 7 days to close the case after finding Charlotte’s body. And that’s not uncommon. The body is the most important piece of evidence you can have._
_What_ was _uncommon was all the twists and turns the case took as those seven days went by._
\- An excerpt from _To Charlotte, With Love_ – S2E5: The Confession
* * * |
7df680dcb5fa47319d23b3d4c5a1a9dc | ['b95bab611f6449bba22fbc64ac9dc356'] | “Mae, what do you think I am, insane? Of course warm showers are the kind of showers for me.”
He said, in a happy manner.
“.. But, since you’re here, I’m almost certain that, no matter how you set it, it’ll be a pretty hot shower..~”
That was horrible.
“... Yes, that was bad. My point is you’re hot. And I love you.”
Awe~
After some fiddling with knobs, the shower head started to release water, emitting noises that showers emit. Cole stepped in with Mae, and they both blushed a little - Guess it’d be a good thing to get all those hard to reach spots now..~
“Mmh.. This is nice..”
They both muttered under their breath, as the warm water hit against them. Of course, warm water didn’t help with the situation of their little stains, but that’s alright. Mae nabbed a washcloth that was resting atop of the shower curtains, and started to rub at the stain she had caused Cole first. After wetting it, of course. Right there on his sensitive area~.
“Ohh, ah.. Careful, Mae.. That- That’s a sensitive spot.. Ah- Oh.. Okay.. Okay..~”
He heaved a sigh, both relieved and satisfied, as he took that same cloth from Mae, spun her around a little, placed an arm around her, and cleaned it off. Letting her belly area get wet in the process. Gently, he started to clean that off, and Mae gave a little blush. How was he so good at this..?
After the two finished up cleaning off the important bits, and then the minor bits, and.. Well, after the two finished cleaning up, Mae stopped the water and stepped out, opened a cabinet located next to the shower, and pulled out a towel. She gave it to Cole, and then one for herself. Mae wrapped the towel around her waist, while Cole.. He used his to dry Mae off. He knew that the gesture was to dry himself off, but he couldn’t look at how wet Mae was and /not/. She was flattered, and held herself still to let Cole work his magic. In the process, she dropped her towel, exposing her naked self once more. Cole worked from top to bottom, making sure every bit of Mae was.. Ever so gently touched. After he was done, he gently placed the towel around Mae’s neck area, and gave, for probably the twentieth time today, a satisfied sigh. Mae was being treated like a queen at this point.. Well, she was. A bandit queen. Of the FT. Luccenne Mall.
“So soft..~”
Cole mumbled, as he picked up Mae’s other towel, and tied that around her waist for her. Oh, man..~ | 5c8caba55da24850b299c27114c3792e | ['b95bab611f6449bba22fbc64ac9dc356'] |
A Day To Remember
**Author's Note:**
> Part of a draft post binge.
On a lovely autumn evening, on the ninth of November, some years post Mae Borowski and Beatrice Santello decided “Hey, maybe we should like, try and hook up, see how well that goes”, and did so, came a very familiar sound. A sound that almost every person in possum springs hasn’t heard in a long time, if at all. Lots of cars parked outside the church today. One car in particular was parked in an oddly efficient spot. If you were to be having a wedding at the moment. Someone was having a wedding at the moment. It was Beatrice Santello. And that was her car. And inside the church, in the basement, near a ton of mirrors and candlelight, sat herself. With Mae Borowski in the same general proximity. No matter how much Bea’s dad pushed her to wear the white dress Candy had graciously loaned her, she just refused to do it. It was too vivid, and bright. Mae /was/ going to wear a dress, but she didn’t want to either. She just stared into the mirror, hating having to prep for this. Can’t they just go in wearing whatever and makeout infront of people while some dude says some legal stuff? Man. What the hell. Gregg was watching the whole dressing room thing from a video Chattrbox, banging his head against a wall because his microphone wasn’t working. He’s been typing in Mae’s messages -
“USE!!!! THE!!!! EFFING!!! TUX!!! I!!! GAVE!!!! YOU!!!!”
Nothing. Just nothing. Mae stared head-deep into the mirror, taking long sighs and blinks. Her mom and dad were there with her, making sure nothing burned down in the desperately lit room. Candles, one lightbulb, positioned flashlights, reading lights, all of that.
“... Eff.”
She was at a stand still. What was she gonna do? Yes- Of course, she brought Gregg’s tux. She wasn’t stupid. It just- It was a little tight around the edges. But so was the dress. Fuck it.
“Thanks for the tip, Gregg.”
She said, after checking her chattrbox messages for a quick second. She brought her laptop. Of course. Gregg was in the hospital with Angus right now. He fell off the motorized bike Gregg had set up, and it fell right ontop of his leg. Almost snapping the bone in two. Who was going to be the best man? The bridesmaid? Bea’s bridesmade was easily Jackie. Though the pink goat despised this decision, it was Bea’s to make. And she could respect that.
“Beatrice oh my god if I cover this with a funeral dress will you be happy -”
That cut her a little. She nodded yes. It was sarcastic, of course, but her dad was right out of there, with that be right back tone, and came back around fifteen minutes later with a funeral dress over her size.
“Wear this.”
Her dad blunty said, placing it infront of her, and then left to go sit in a corner and think. He could have swore his daughter was straight four-ish years ago.
All the while, Mae struggled on with putting the tux Gregg had given her for prom that one year. Fit tight, the fake rose was still good. Whatever. She wouldn’t have to touch it for a while after this. She put it on, and Gregg was almost ecstatic. He gave Mae her wedding outfit!!!! Oh my gosh!!!!!
Angus was just silently watching from the bed, leg elevated. With that adorable ears-lifted smile of his. How nice.
“... Gregg, Angus, I dunno guys.. What if I like.. Screw something up? Like I always do? This is the one thing.. The one thing in my whole life I wish was un-screwup-able.”
Gregg started typing, all shaky, a concerned look on his face now. Right now was not the time for Mae to go pessimist.
“Ur gonna do fine mae, i’m sure of ut. Just hang in ther until it’s ovr.”
Oh, boy.. She couldn’t handle this. Could hardly, atleast. After some time, Bea had walked over, wearing the black funeral-like dress over her white wedding one, with a loving smile on her face while Mae stared into the mirror, lost in thought.
“Maeday, Dear? Is something wrong?”
It wasn’t like Bea to ask a question like that. She was always the one to know when something was wrong. She asked the wrong question.
“BeaBea, I.. I’m nervous. Gregg isn’t here, I dunno how Germ is gonna deliver the.. The thing. No idea how I’m gonna be able to-”
She was suddenly interrupted with an embrace, warm and snuggly, coming from the croc behind her. Instead of a cigarette, some kinda licorice was hanging from her mouth. She was trying to quit. Really was.
“You’re gonna do fine, Love.. Ah, jeez, I sound so english and british whenever I say that. Hahaha.. Oh, God.”
Both of them were nervous. Bea’s dad, Mae’s, and Mae’s mom were all chatting amongst themselves.
“... You look beautiful in that dress, Bea. So beautiful.. A-Are you comfortable? Here- Here I’ll try and- And fix any tight notches.. Spin around for me..?”
And that the croc did, slowly twirling in a pattern of circles to give Mae the best look she could get. She adjusted a few things, made Bea more comfortable, but mainly she did it for those.. Special glances. You know those. |
4cd1d9ab240241288d457fa79d330067 | ['b974c0e453c14d03b1a30fe3f320aa91'] | Slipping one bruised and battered foot into the hot water, Yuuri clamped his eyes shut and let loose a sigh that ended in an almost imperceptible moan. He would have ignored it, had he not immediately heard a low chuckle from the other end of the bath.
"Does it feel that good?" Came Victor's wet voice, interrupted by Yuuri's splashing as he flailed into the water.
Yuuri composed himself and relaxed into the water, sinking lower until his chin was wet. "With the icy hell you've been putting me through these past few days, this near-boiling water is a godsend." He grumbled.
It was getting much easier to speak frankly with Victor, and a lot harder to bite back any potentially rude remarks. Just one week ago Yuuri was carefully choosing every word that came out of his mouth out of worry that he would offend Victor, but Yuuri was quickly finding that offending Victor with blunt words seemed nearly impossible.
Just as long as he never mentioned Victor’s luxuriously thick, shining, healthy, platinum blonde hair in a negative light.
Ever.
(A customer’s granddaughter had made the comparison between the greying old woman and Victor, and the sensitive man had locked himself in the bathroom for three hours, mumbling through the door about how he could manage to get weird supplements through Japanese customs.)
Victor’s bubbly laugh bounced across the stone of the outdoor bath, and the plants surrounding them seemed to billow along with it. The sound made something in Yuuri's chest flutter warmly and flush.
From the heat of the water.
Not because of Victor's laugh.
Yuuri sunk his entire head into the water for a moment, regaining his composure, when he felt himself being yanked back into the chilled night air. Spitting water from his mouth and wiping water from his eyes, Yuuri noticed his skin was a bit oily.
"Yuuri! I thought you had to be completely clean before entering the onsen?"
“You do…?”
Victor huffed. “You didn't wash the conditioner out of your hair!”
“What?! B-but I did rinse!” Yuuri sputtered.
Victor tsk'd condescendingly and hauled him out of the onsen, grabbing a washtub and a forgotten bath toy. He sat Yuuri down on the cold stone floor and kneeled behind him, dipping the washtub into the bath and hauling some spring water to where he’d placed Yuuri.
Victor dipped the bath toy, a small green cup with drain holes in the bottom, into the washtub and lifted it above Yuuri's hair. The water streamed out of it slowly, rinsing the peach conditioner from the skater’s jet black hair. Yuuri could feel the slippery texture of the oily water down the back of his neck, and the sensation was all at once pleasant and awkward.
Someday far in the future, this day will be remembered for some major event or tragedy or something, and when someone says to Yuuri 'Where were you on the day the thing happened?' he will answer 'Popping an inconvenient erection in my family's hot spring because Victor Nikiforov scraped his nails against my scalp for half a second.' And because this will never ever happen, imagination-Yuuri is free to be as honest and vulgar as he likes without worry.
The rinse lasted all of two minutes and Victor took meticulous care not to yank any hairs or create any unnecessary parts. Yuuri, beet-red and stiff as a board, didn't want to enter the onsen again until after he was certain he was... calm, but that moment seemed to never come.
There was no way he'd be able to deal with Victor's now-daily foot massage. Victor would probably pout later, but sparing himself the embarrassment was probably going to be worth it, so Yuuri quickly left the onsen and went straight into his room.
* * *
At 1:46 in the morning, Yuuri is trying his hardest to sneeze quietly.
He's a notoriously loud sneezer and really isn't in the mood to wake up everyone in the inn. He finally gets the brilliant idea to stuff his face into his pillow to sneeze, and as he does so, unloads a hot wad of throat snot all over his sleeping space. There's no way he’s sleeping there until he can grab a new pillow. Unfortunately, the laundry room is in the basement, which requires his mother’s key when it's after closing hours.
Yuuri startled when his phone began buzzing in his back pocket, a quiet staccato sound specifically set to signal an email.
_The_ email.
He nearly fell head-first into the floor from his scramble to get off the bed and straight to his computer. The screen blinded him in the darkness as he'd gotten used to his dimmed phone during the sleepless night. As his vision returned to him, so did his good mood.
**sabbytheteenagewretch@gmail.com**
to **katsudokidoki**
1:47am (0 minutes ago)
_h_ _eeeeey buckaroo!_ _j_ _us_ _poppin by to tell you it'll_ _b_ _a few more weeks_ _:( :( :(_
_…_
_…_
_…_
_……._ _SYKE_ _! it's_ _totally done and_ _attached to the email_ _i_ _haven't slept in twelve years pay me in amazon gift cards_ _at_ _ur earliest_ _convenience xoxo_
It couldn't possibly have come at a better time. Yuuri couldn't sleep, Victor was definitely awake if the muffled giggles through the shared wall were any indication, and the decrepit old laptop was fully charged and ready to be taken anywhere for ten to fifteen minutes until the battery gave out.
Yuuri set the attachment to download and placed it into his media player, then grabbed his laptop and raced down the hall into Victor’s room.
“Victor!” He whispered through the door. “Hey Victor, the music is finished!” | 3dfb85bd7c64485597f49aab8eb47f09 | ['b974c0e453c14d03b1a30fe3f320aa91'] | “Yurio? Can you hear me over the water?” Yuuri said a bit louder, hoping the boy hadn't gone deaf from the roar of the falls.
The teenager’s breathing was even, measured. His posture was perfect, his stance solid despite the torrent of water on his head. Yuuri could see the bump of his eyes flitting back and forth under pale pink eyelids. A small stream of snot peeked out from the boy’s nostril, and Yuuri somehow noticed it. The falls were too cold to be using this time of year, and he didn't want Yurio catching ill right before a life-determining competition. Yuuri reached out to grab the boy’s arm and pull him out of the chilly water.
“Yurio! Are you alright?"
With a level of softness previously unseen, Yurio’s bright green eyes met with Yuuri’s deep brown, and they stood in silence, one stunned, the other dazed. Yurio looked so… vulnerable. As if the slightest breeze would break him, a huge contrast to the enduring, unwavering aura he was projecting mere moments ago. He ripped his eyes from the child's gaze and turned away from him.
"We're calling it a day." Yuuri declared, pulling him towards the shrine where their clothes were located. "Dinner is gonna be pretty great, so let's dry off and head back."
It was the fourteenth, which meant that a new shipment of food was coming in from the out of town supplier in the morning. Which meant Yuuri could finally, _finally,_ eat something besides the leftover broccoli and onions with his rice, because there was no need to save food for unexpectedly hungry guests. Tonight was a free-for-all. Tonight was a cheat day.
Tonight was meat.
Yuuri sat down at the low table in the main dining hall, a small grill and huge bowls of sliced meat and vegetables surrounding it making a lovely decoration. Yurio wandered in from the direction of the onsen, rubbing at his hair with a fluffy, personalized towel.
"Where's the old man?" The boy grumbled.
Mari set a beer on the table and flopped down, immediately grabbing at meat to grill. “He's at Nagahama Ramen. Ken texted me a picture, here.”
Mari fiddled with her phone for a moment and then shoved it into Yuuri’s face, and what greeted him was an image of Victor Nikiforov, flushed from alcohol, one sake bottle upturned and the other dangerously close to the edge of the counter, and slurping at a bowl of beef ramen like an absolute mess.
“He's definitely not waking up on time tomorrow,” Yurio scoffed. The boy stabbed at the last piece of beef with his fork. “I need the protein more than you, katsudon. Maybe pick up a vegetable for once—ow!”
Mari giggled as she launched another carrot across the table at Yurio’s head with a fancy spoon. “How's that for a vegetable, Yurio?” She taunted, extending the end of his nickname to emphasize the difference.
Yuuri kept out of the food fight, nibbling at his hoarded grilled beef slices, hidden behind a large bowl. His thoughts drifted to Victor at the ramen stand. He was slam dunk drunk, would he get home okay? Did he even know the way? Maybe he should go grab the drunk Russian before he says something wrong in that stilted Japanese he barely knows.
Yuuri missed the sidelong glance his sister was leveling at him as she dodged another flying vegetable and stood up suddenly. "I'm gonna head out that way, have a few drinks myself. You kids head to bed, you've only got like two days left."
Oh, right.
* * *
"Victor still isn't here..."
“He’s probably not going to show up for at least an hour,” Yurio grunted as he pulled on his skates in the Ice Castle locker room. “He wakes up with terrible hangovers even though he recovers quickly. He shames his country for being so weak.”
Yuuri snorted out a laugh, hurting the soft palette at the roof of his mouth. The sensation reminded him of the sharp pain on his hip every time he flubbed a jump. He was so tired of missing the jumps it was tangible through the rest of his body. He only had one day left and if he was going to keep representing Victor he needed more than just the Toe-Loop. Yurio already has the Salchow, which Yuuri can't seem to land properly. The kid landed it in competition when he was twelve! _Twelve!_
How was Yuuri going to surprise the audience more if he didn't even have any technical superiority? How was he going to prove to Victor that he's worthy of his instruction if he only had one quad under his belt?
"Ah, Yurio, wait a moment!"
The boy was getting ready to leave the locker room to head for the ice, and turned around at the call of his much-hated nickname.
"What."
Yuuri swallowed his apprehensions and clapped his hands together, bowing his head.
"The quad Salchow, please teach me."
The silence stretched through the locker room as the teenager stared at him, sizing him up. Yuuri peeked through his fringe to see that as Yurio's piercing green eyes were fixed on him intently, his nose was flaring. Was he angry? Of course he was probably upset. Who would want to give the enemy more ammo for his weapon? Yuuri squashed his hands together harder, bowed his head lower, knowing that the cultural intent would be lost on the boy, but hoping it would reach him in some way.
"Please."
Yurio started walking towards the rink entrance, was he going to refuse? When he continued walking to the door, it seemed like he would. His hand stopped on the push bar.
"Show me your salchow and I'll tell you why you suck." He muttered.
Yuuri stood staring at the boy's back, noting the tension in his shoulders. |
ebde4ec988f84348a3eee52410d496e9 | ['b983ff1aa1f145568a11465b25c04cb1'] | “Mommy?” A little voice comes from the bed and it pulls more tears from Castiel. “Is that you, mommy?”
“It’s not your mommy, Claire,” Castiel says, sitting up straighter to hit the call light like the nurse had requested he do when she woke up. “I’m your father.”
“Daddy?” It’s startling how quickly the little girl sits up, whipping around her head to look at him. Her light blue eyes are filled with curiosity and if it weren’t for the circumstances that brought them together it would be a dream come true to get to see his child looking at him like this.
The look is pulled from him as a nurse in bright green scrubs comes into the room. “Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?”
Claire cocks her head to the side like she’s got to think about it, “I’m good.” She finally decides.
“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” The nurse asks, jotting something down on her clipboard.
“A bad man took my mommy to Heaven to live with my grandpa. Jody talked to me about it last night. She gave me chocolates so I like her.” She answers with a small nod to her head, “But I had a dream about my mommy and me getting ice cream and mommy told me that my daddy was an angel and that he was going to save me. So I am good.”
“Well! That’s great, Claire.” The nurse nods along with her before turning her attention to Castiel. “So this must be your angel then?”
“Yup!” Claire says without missing a beat, “But now I’m hungry. Can I have ice cream for breakfast?”
Castiel can’t help but smile at that. Of all the ways he saw this going, ice cream wasn’t what he expected. But, he supposes, children tend to find better ways than adults to cope with trauma. They way she’s said it reminds him of Gabriel, he’d always used ice cream as a coping mechanism when they were kids.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you have dessert right away.” The nurse pouts, “Doctor grumpy pants might get mad if I get his patients all sugared up.” She laughs along with Claire, “I’ll bring up something in just a bit though, okay. I’ve got a couple of other kiddos to check on and you two should be good to leave by lunchtime.”
“Daddy?” Castiel isn’t sure if it’s the little voice that’s saying it or the fact that she’s calling him daddy without a second thought, but his heart swells enough he thinks it’ll burst.
“Yes, Claire?”
“Why did it take you so long to find us?” Her little head cocks to the side again, the blonde hair cascading down adding to the innocent look.
He sighs heavily, not really knowing how to answer, “The bad man Jody told you about, he was really mad at me. I was trying to hide from him and I was scared that you and your mommy would get hurt if you stayed with me.”
“Mommy got hurt.”
“Yes, yes she did.” Tears start welling up and he does nothing to stop them, “I was very careful, but the bad man still found me. Even though I tried to stay hidden he found me and used you and your mommy to try and get me. Your mommy got hurt because of me.”
“No.” She’s shaking her head at that, so sure of her response, “Mommy always said that sometimes bad things just happen and it’s no one’s fault. Like when Alex’s puppy got hitted by a truck.” She shrugs her little shoulders as if she harbours no ill feelings towards him for getting her mother killed, “It be like that sometimes.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'll try to keep updating this as often as I can. It won't be consistent in any way but should be at least once a week.
>
> (also it's super helpful that I have a 5 year old so at least I know Claire is talking correct for her age)
3. 20 Questions
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Castiel and Claire get to know each other.
“Alright, Jimmy, Claire is all set to go!” The overly perky nurse, Jessica as he’d learned, in the bright green scrubs announces as soon as Castiel has handed her back the clipboard of discharge paperwork.
The lobby of the county hospital isn’t anything special, but it’s very well maintained. Claire is in a wheelchair by request, one the nurse had happily obliged her with, and he’s wearing Claire’s Captain Marvel backpack and lugging around the car seat the social worker had left with him.
“To the batmobile!” Claire announces with excitement, pointing in the general direction of the front entrance. The three of them make their way through the small parking lot to Castiel’s car. Claire giggles at it, which is a better reaction than most people give him anyway.
Installing a car seat is A LOT harder than one would think, as Castiel soon finds out.
“Need a quick tutorial?” Jessica asks with a small laugh.
“Yes, that would be incredibly helpful.” Castiel steps back with a sigh and lets her crawl in to hook it up.
“Okay, so until you’re better at this I’ll put it forward-facing. Claire is still small enough that she could maybe rear face for a while longer, but it’s not necessary at her age and size.”
“Okay, and I just buckle it in?” He asks unsurely.
“There is a little spot where you thread it through when you’ve got some time just play around with it. Owner’s manual is tucked into the side pocket and there are diagrams on the sides for the different ways to install it.”
“What’s most important,” she continues, “is that Claire is buckled up properly.”
Jessica turns to Claire, who is still happily sitting in the wheelchair. “How about you hop in so I can show your daddy how to do this.” | 8f3c394d8ca4493d94b09be0351446b9 | ['b983ff1aa1f145568a11465b25c04cb1'] | “Oh, she is.” Castiel confirms without hesitation. “When I came out as pan she beat the shit out of me. Dad called the cops and now she’s in prison.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Been out and proud ever since.” The light is back in the bright blue eyes, “It’s funny actually, my dad’s actually dating a guy now.”
“You’re fucking brave you know.” Dean sways in his chair leading Castiel to reach out and place his hand on Dean’s shoulder to keep him from falling over into the desk.
“Ha, now who's drunk?”
“Told ya’ I was. But for real. Wish I could be as brave as you.”
“Says captain of the football team future prom king who got a tutor for getting a B instead of an A in AP calculus.”
“Says the guy I’ve had a crush on since fucking forever.” Dean hadn’t meant to say it, but fuck that’s what vodka is for. Nevertheless his face goes red enough to hide his freckles.
“You’re drunker than we thought.” Leaning in just a bit, Castiel’s eyes catch on Dean’s. The air seems more tense than it had just a moment ago, charged with something undeniable.
“Or just drunk enough.” Dean quips back, leaning in just a touch. It’s more than enough to show Castiel exactly what his intentions are as he drops his gaze to the plush lips he’d spent years dreaming about.
Castiel flat out whimpers as he pulls himself back, “I’m not kissing you when you’re drunk.”
“Why not.” Dean asks, not sure if this is a temporary or permanent rejection.
“Because, Dean,” Castiel leans in close again, his lips just shy of Dean’s ear, “I want to remember every little detail and I’ve never been drunk before so I don’t know if I’ll remember any of this.”
“So take a video.” Dean taunts, wanting nothing more than what’s right in front of him.
“A video won’t tell me what your lips taste like.” The husky voice in his ear seems to drop lower than Dean’s ever heard it, “Or the feel of your hands on my skin.”
“Okay fine.” Dean relents, missing the warmth of Castiel’s breath on his neck as soon as he sits back in the chair, “But take a video with me anyway. I want to make sure I remember asking you to be my boyfriend.”
“Pretty sure that you just did.” Castiel giggles again, pulling his hand in front of his face as he tries to calm his breathing back to some semblance of normal.
“Oh shit.” Dean laughs too, shaking his head, “Okay okay, pretend I didn’t and I’ll do it again.”
“I don’t even care if I feel like shit in the morning, this was worth it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.” It’s Dean’s turn to cock his head to the side, “Do it again.”
“Shit.” Castiel says, his head moving in a playful way that shows off just how drunk he is.
“I love it, again.”
Both of their laughter slows as Castiel locks eyes on Dean, and grins, “Fuck me.”
“As soon as you let me.” Dean is grinning now too, consequences be damned. This fucker right here was worth coming out to his dad for.
“Ugh you just had to get me drunk.”
“Nah, just needed to get myself drunk enough on the off chance I’d tell you how I feel.”
“When we’re sober I’m gonna kiss you. So much.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Would you two SHUT UP so I can do my damn homework.” An angry voice yells from the other side of the wall prompting both boys into fits of laughter, because of course poor Sam overhead everything.
THE END (or rather, the beginning) |
3b987421c49f495395ac3cad624f5f14 | ['b998b11686984d1bb415fd5d3b8a598e'] | “I knew you could do it.” Marinette was relieved to see Tikki fly through the door with her earrings. She gave her a bite of her leftover oatmeal to fuel her back up before transforming again and leaving the bathroom. The living room was back in one piece which was nice to see.
“Thank you for undertaking this task for me.” Marinette thanked her, “You really helped me today.”
“I did my best. Thank you for having faith in me.”
“Was Chat Noir at all surprised that a different version of Ladybug showed up halfway through the fight?”
“Yes. I assured him that you were alright and that you asked me to handle things from then on since you were sick.”
“The important thing is that Paris is safe.” Marinette yawned, “Now if Hawkmoth can wait until after my flu is gone to send another akuma that would be great.”
“Wait, that wasn’t because of the akuma?” Kagami started to back away from her.
“Afraid not.” she smiled in apology, “You may want to make sure you take some medicine or at least disinfect your body if you don’t want to catch what I have.”
“I’ll go do that now. My mother will murder me if I’m too sick to attend the fundraiser coming up.” Kagami sighed. “Feel better soon, Ladybug.”
“Thank you for everything, Kagami.” Marinette finally was able to return home and collapsed onto her bed.
“Sleep.” Marinette almost moaned as she sunk into the warm familiarity of her bed.
Then her phone rang. “UGH!” she reached for her phone, “Hello?”
“Hey, Marinette,” It was Nanette. “I’ve been trying to call you for half an hour now. Did you see the news on that akuma?”
“Yup.” Marinette knew about it all too well, “What about it?”
“Turns out it was our very own Quinn.” Nanette giggled, “I should have known this would happen. Quinn never gets sick but when they do then they have a tendency to blow it way out of proportion. They’re such a hypochondriac and not to mention a terrible patient if you ever try to take care of them.”
“Quinn is sick?” Marinette hadn’t heard this. “Oh no, did they catch it from me?”
“Probably. We both know they’re terrible at keeping themselves tidy what with using their arms as a planner all the time. They probably had a reminder written on their hand when we dropped off your homework a couple days ago and then didn’t wash it after so not to lose it.”
“That does sound like Quinn.” Marinette made a mental note to bake them some get-better-soon cookies when she wasn’t sick anymore. “You haven’t gotten sick too have you?”
“Nope. I keep my hands washed.” Nanette laughed. “Now that I’m on the phone with you I realize that I must have woken you up when you’re not feeling well. I’ll let you rest and see you back in school when you’re better.”
“Not a problem. Talk to you later, Nani.” Marinette hung up and turned off her phone. No more distractions today. Only sleep, medicine, and more sleep.
10. Ten
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> There is a fox in the bakery
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Original post on tumblr: https://dakota-r-riley.tumblr.com/post/188003725131/transferred-10
“Quinn, you can no longer claim that you are not that bad when you are sick. I hope you realize that.” Nanette teased as the girls and Quinn walked into class the following week after everyone’s flu had disappeared.
“The whole Flu-demic thing doesn’t count.” Quinn objected. “I was sick and so not in my right mind.”
“Marinette was sick and she didn’t get akumatised.” Kagami pointed out.
“This is victim blaming!” Quinn dropped into their seat, “I’m not talking to you bullies.”
“We’re only teasing, Quinn.” Marinette assured them, “We know it wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m still interested in that new Ladybug that showed up halfway through the fight.” Nanette said, “No one seems to know what happened there. Not even Chat Noir seemed to understand what was going on.”
Marinette looked over at Kagami who was keeping a stoic face in front of the others. After Marinette had gotten her miraculous back and few good hours of sleep she checked the Ladyblog to see if there was any footage of Kagami as Ladybug. It was so weird seeing someone else do her job. But Marinette knew Kagami was clever and strong enough to do it. Maybe she could be her unofficial backup in case Marinette ever got sick or injured again.
Class started and Kagami and Marinette went to their seats in the back. Mr. Babineaux started his lecture on Shakespeare and talking about the different plays they would be reading and discussing in class.
“Marinette,” Kagami whispered, “Now that you’re feeling better I have a request for you.”
“And what is this request?” Marinette whispered back. She was trying to keep notes while also listening to Kagami.
“Do you know about the Next Big Night Fundraiser?” Kagami asked.
“Of course. It’s only the biggest arts fundraiser in France. Adrien told me the both of you were attending.”
“Yes. Adrien invited me as his plus one to the event and Mr. Agreste kindly invited my mother to join as well.”
“That’s so cool you get to go.” Marinette only ever got to watch it on TV. One day she’d make it there to support all the classic as well as the up and coming artists, designers, musicians, writers, and actors. So much talent in one room!
“It is. But I need to find something appropriate to wear to the event. I have nice dresses and outfits in my closet but I need something new for this night.”
“You want me to help you pick out an outfit? Go dress shopping?”
“No. I was actually hoping you would design a dress for me.” | 8b68dc24849f48efb94ebc66e2965625 | ['b998b11686984d1bb415fd5d3b8a598e'] | “When we let people know we’re dating we can.” Adrien assured her, “In the mean time I hope you can be happy with video-call dates and secret notes between class.”
“I’m already happy.” she held his hand. Her gaze focused on their intertwined fingers.
“Marinette,” Adrien tilted her chin up so she was looking at him, “I wish I could give you more.”
His face came closer and a little bell in her head started to sound. Was he going to kiss her? Okay, Marinette, don’t panic! Relax. You know how to kiss. You’ve done it plenty of times before! It’s just your first kiss with Adrien. Stop shaking you absolute scaredy cat!
Adrien pressed a kiss to her forehead instead.
Oh. That was new. Usually he only kissed her cheek. She didn’t think something as small as a kiss on the forehead could make her even more of a mess.
“I’ll talk to you after fencing practice.” Adrien told her. “See you later, doodle bug.”
“Yeah…” Marinette was still mooning over the sweet gesture, “Talk to you later, sunshine.”
Marinette went back upstairs to find her parents cleaning up breakfast and whispering animatedly. “Whatcha talking about?” Marinette went to help them.
“Oh nothing dear,” her mom assured her. “It was nice of you to invite your friend over for breakfast.”
“He more or less invited himself but it wasn’t like I was gonna tell him no.” Marinette said.
“Because you two are dating?” her dad guessed.
“What?” Marinette tried to play it off, “Of course not. I already told you it wasn’t like that.”
“Marinette,” her parents gave her a sympathetic look, “If that’s true then you may want to tell him that cause it was obvious he was very smitten with you.”
“We’re just good friends.” she insisted.
“Did you lie because you were scared your father would go overboard again?” her mom asked.
“No! I mean--I didn’t lie! There’s nothing...going on...um…” it felt gross lying to her parents. “Fine. We’re dating. But we didn’t want to let anyone know yet because we didn’t want anyone interfering.”
“Oh sweetie,” her parents hugged her, “We’re sorry for prying. We couldn’t help but be curious. If this secret relationship means that much to you then we promise we won’t breathe a word of it to anyone or interfere.”
“It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you but it’s already pretty delicate and new.” she relaxed in their arms, “You promise you’re not upset?”
“Nothing to be upset over.” they gave her one final squeeze before releasing her. “You make an adorable couple.”
“Thanks.” Marinette blushed, “And you promise you won’t tell anyone? I haven’t even told Alya yet.”
“What’s there to tell?” her dad tapped his chin, “That a friend of yours came over for breakfast?”
Marinette breathed out in relief and continued to help her parents clean up. This was shaping up to be a pretty good day.
True to his word Adrien called her after fencing practice and she admitted that she told her parents they were dating after he left. He wasn’t upset with her which was a relief. It was inevitable that someone was bound to figure it out sooner or later. Thankfully it was just her parents and not some paparazzi or crazed fan.
“How did they figure it out?” Adrien asked.
“They said that you were too smitten to be anything less than my boyfriend. That and if we weren’t in fact dating then I should tell you since you didn’t seem to be aware.” Marinette laughed.
“Do you think we’re that obvious at school?”
“Hard to say, I don’t know how we look when we interact at school. I think because we’re much more wary of the eyes watching us there it isn’t as bad as when it was just us eating with my parents in the privacy of my house.”
“That’s good. Don’t want the news getting out to everyone too soon.” Adrien paused, “Hold on a second, Nino’s calling me.”
“It’s fine. If I don’t hear from you again today then sweet dreams and a good night, sunshine.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“And we both have very busy schedules. I don’t know if we’ll talk again before bedtime.” There was a frantic knocking on Marinette’s front door. “Someone’s at the door. Bye, Adrien.”
“Well, sweet dreams if I don’t hear from you later,” Adrien chuckled, “Goodbye, Marinette.”
They hung up and Marinette went downstairs to see who was banging on her door. She opened it and Alya rushed in nearly plowing over her.
“Alya!” Marinette jumped out of her way, “What is--”
“Do you have something to tell me?” Alya was pacing the living room. Her phone clutched tightly in her hand and her hair even more of a mess than usual.
“What is going on?” Marinette didn’t know what Alya was doing looking like a madwoman in her house. “Not that I don’t love seeing you, Alya, but what on earth are you doing here?”
“Don’t try and act dumb, Marinette,” Alya pulled up something on her phone and shoved it in Marinette’s face, “Care to explain this photo circulating around every social media platform?”
“What are you…” Marinette trailed off as she took in what she was seeing. It was a picture of Adrien and Marinette outside her house this morning. Granted it was a great candid photo of Adrien kissing Marinette’s forehead but who took it?
“Oh no.” Marinette didn’t dare look at the comments. “Who posted that!”
“I think what is more important,” Alya took her phone back, “Is the fact that you and Adrien are dating and didn’t tell me! Your best friend!”
“Alya, you don’t understand.” Marinette pulled out her phone. Already her Instagram was flooding with comments from jealous fans. “This is so bad! We weren’t telling anyone about this for a reason! Now everyone knows.” |
114990e63e1b43648d172860159e0faf | ['b9d874d72edc43d48ebf99298e7478c1'] | And then he hears the door open. His heart freezes for a moment, and he panics.
No one has the key to this house except Dan.
His mind fills with scenes from the crime dramas he’s been binging before he can stop it. He scans the room for something to use as a weapon, and immediately runs through any possible exit strategy he has, trapped as he is in his upstairs bedroom.
“Phil!” comes a shout from downstairs, cutting smoothly through Phil’s terrified panic. “Phil! Are you home?”
**
“Dan? What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, having descended the stairs immediately, his heart racing.
Phil takes a moment to marvel at the sight of Dan, standing there in ripped up, skin-tight black jeans and a dusty pink scoop neck t shirt that’s at least three sizes too large and hangs off his frame, exposing his collarbones. He’s got small gold rings in his ears and his hair’s gone wavy, and all of it is so different to the sweatpants and old t shirts he usually wears when he comes to the house. Phil wants to groan out loud.
“I’m here because—well—honestly, it’s embarrassing—“ Dan is avoiding eye contact, and stares at Phil’s legs instead. “Nice pyjamas.”
Phil looks down, only just realizing he’s in his worn-out, lurid blue Cookie Monster pyjama pants. He huffs a bit. “Leave me alone. Tell me why you’re here.”
“You ignored my text.”
“What?” Dan had come all this way to confront him about a silly text? “I didn’t ignore it. I just—didn’t know what to say.”
“So you ignored it. That’s fine. It _is_. But … I saw this ice cream truck. On the way back from class this evening. One of those really cute nostalgic ones with the lights and the music. And I thought, well, I want to send Phil a photo of this, but he might not answer, and I don’t wanna be _that guy_ that double texts, and also I know you like superheroes so—here—“
And then Dan is producing a wrapped up ice cream from his bag and shoving it into Phil’s hands. He’s gone a little red, and is definitely still avoiding looking at Phil.
Phil looks at the wrapper on the ice cream and sees that it’s stamped with countless Superman logos. “Dan. You came all the way out here from city center just to give me an ice cream?”
Dan’s biting into his lip now and clenching and unclenching his fists, and he finally looks up at Phil. “You make it sound crazier than double texting. Don’t you like it?”
Phil feels like he wants to laugh and cry at the same time. “Yes—yes of course. This is—it’s sweet, Dan. Thank you. But also … a little crazy, yeah. You could’ve just called. Or—waited till Saturday—“
“It wasn’t just the ice cream, though,” says Dan, looking worried.
“What?”
“I also wanted to say … sorry. I’m sorry. For what I said to you on Saturday. You were right—about the law thing. And I was totally out of line with my comments, I could tell that I hurt you, and I hate myself for it, to be honest. I wanted to say sorry. Is that—is it okay? Are we okay?”
His expression is so earnest and clouded with worry. Phil wants to reach out a hand and touch him, run his fingers over his brow, smooth the creases there, tell him he’s lovely and pull him close.
“Yeah—I. I wanted to talk to you about it, eventually, I think. It wasn’t okay, what you said, but … you were right too, in a way. And wrong in others. I dunno. But thanks—for apologizing.”
Dan just nods, and the air is thick with tension.
Fuck it, Phil thinks.
“Can I hug you?” he asks quietly.
Dan nods.
Phil pulls him forward and wraps him up in his arms, tucking his face into Dan’s shoulder. Dan is stiff for a moment, but Phil feels him relax, his shoulders falling and his face leaning against Phil’s own. Phil breathes him in, wants to take in everything that he is, as Dan reaches his arms up and hugs him back.
They stand like that for a moment, until Dan starts pulling away. Phil lets him go and smiles at him as he stands there, face tinged with pink, looking soft and beautiful.
“You smell nice. Smell like warm,” says Phil, and knows his face is coloring too.
Dan bites down on his smile.
“Er. Can I make you something to eat?” Phil asks.
Dan shakes his head. “No, I should go—study.”
Phil hopes he hasn’t overstepped or made Dan uncomfortable. “Are you sure? I can give you something to take with you if you’d like. Do you need me to call a car?”
“It’s okay, Phil. I’ll just go. I hope you like the ice cream. Don’t forget to put it in the freezer if you don’t want it now. Freezer, not fridge. Will you remember? Should I do it for you?”
Phil’s face hurts from smiling. “I’ll remember. See you Saturday?”
“Yeah, see you then. Don’t ignore my texts.”
Dan playfully punches his arm, and with that, steps out into the dusk, the sky behind him shot through with red-orange-gold and dripping with the last light of the setting sun.
**
**Dan Howell** : can i come by later tmrw? i want to get in a solid four or five hours of studying in the morning so after lunch maybe?
**Phil** : Of course. As always, offer stands to skip until you’re feeling better about work. The whole house is looking good, to be honest.
**Dan Howell** : there are a couple bedrooms that you never go in i haven’t even touched yet lmao. and i can’t go a week without cleaning the pool. i’ll come by i’ll definitely need the break
**Dan Howell** : Around 2:30 ok? | 551b0beed71f4a91a33069bcb66b74f7 | ['b9d874d72edc43d48ebf99298e7478c1'] | Phil snorts. “Not 50. And to answer your other questions … I was 22 when we met, 23 when we got married. And I married him … because he asked.”
“Were you happy?”
“I was … and then I wasn’t. Hence, divorce.”
“Just like that? He agreed?”
“I mean, no. Not just like that. It was messy. Ending a relationship is always messy.”
“But you got a house,” Dan says slowly, and he doesn’t have to ask the question for Phil to hear it.
“Yeah, I got this house. In the end, he wanted me to be happy. He knew I wasn’t when I was with him, and he said—he said he loved me enough to give me anything I needed to find happiness again. I dropped out of my masters because I was with him. I gave up my hobbies. I stopped seeing my family and my friends. So he insisted on giving me this house and a shedload of money even though I didn’t want it. He asked me to take it, and—“ and it hurts, Phil finds, _still_ hurts, to talk about this, to recall Teddy’s words and repeat them aloud, “—and search for something that would set me on fire again.”
Dan just looks at him, blinking slowly, taking in his words. Phil’s throat is tight and sore and he resists the urge to flee, find some excuse to get out of this room and collect himself.
In the end, he just picks up his plate and walks over to the sink, turning his back to Dan as he goes through the motions of rinsing it off.
Dan comes up behind him, strokes his hand gently across Phil’s back. Phil turns to look at him, standing there beside him, hip resting against the countertop. A corner of his mouth quirks up in a tiny, crooked smile. “I’m sorry for making you talk about this.”
“It’s okay, Dan. Stop apologizing. I told you I wouldn’t talk about anything that makes me uncomfortable. It’s okay.”
Dan keeps his hand against Phil’s back and Phil feels himself settle under the touch.
“How long has it been?” Dan asks.
“Since—since it ended?”
Dan nods.
“Over a year. And a little under a year since I saw him last.”
“Did you—“ Dan starts, then breaks off.
“Did I what? Ask me.”
“Okay. You said he loved you, in the end. Did _you_ … still love him? Do you still?”
Phil doesn’t know how to answer and turns back to his dishes.
Dan just breathes beside him, withdraws his hand.
Phil misses his touch immediately.
He moves his plate and cutlery to the drying rack, wipes his hands on the dish towel, and then turns to face Dan.
“Maybe.”
Dan’s face shifts momentarily, and then it’s back to neutral—impassive and calm.
“But it doesn’t matter,” says Phil, slowly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the sort of thing where—a person can mean everything to you, you know? And what you shared with that person, that enclosed sum of experiences, it’s precious.
“He was good. He changed my life. He cared for me. But we didn’t work and that’s just how it happens sometimes. It passes, but it’s still love. It still existed, it still _exists,_ because we felt it. We remember it. We were molded by it.”
He has no idea where the words come from or how much he needed to hear himself say them. But he feels their truth immediately, and wonders at the capacity of the mind to live on autodrive for months and months, stagnant and murky and dim, only to suddenly happen upon closure and truth, seemingly summoned from nowhere.
All of this the product of months spent in the quiet, unconsciously taking himself apart and putting himself back together, and one loud and obnoxiously curious boy with bright brown eyes, forcing him to face all that he’d found along the way.
Dan crowds into his space, whispers, “Oh, Phil. Can I hug you?”
Phil nods and lets himself be held.
**
“Fuck, I can’t believe I have to go back to study after all of this,” Dan groans.
An hour and several heated rounds of Mario Kart have passed.
(“Let’s do something to get your mind off of all this,” Dan had suggested.
“Mario Kart,” Phil had said.
“I’ll kick your ass,” Dan had replied.
And, for the first time in ages, Phil actually lost.)
Phil makes a conciliatory noise.
“It sucks. The libraries are full of students who are half-dead and depressing to be around. And my flat is a shitshow. I hate my flatmates.”
“You have flatmates?”
Dan nods, his face disgruntled. “Four of them. Only way I could afford a flat in city center. Never talk about them because I hate them.”
“Oh. Well. You could just … stay here,” Phil suggests.
Dan just looks at him in confusion.
“Stay and work here. We can call you a cab whenever you finish. I have editing to do anyway, I can work on that while you study.”
“Phil, I really, really need to focus, though. I don’t know if—“
“I’ll work in another room if you need me to! I just mean … there’s this whole house that’s completely silent and hopefully not depressing. Why not use it when you have it at your disposal? You have that big bag of books with you right?”
Dan looks like he’s trying to find a counterargument. Trying and failing. “I—yeah, I do. Okay. I’ll stay. But if you distract me I’m leaving right away.”
“Deal,” says Phil.
**
They end up staying in Phil’s bedroom.
(“Don’t be stupid,” Dan says, when Phil gallantly offers to go work downstairs.)
Dan sits on the cushioned bench beneath the huge bay windows while Phil sprawls out on his bed, breaking out his thick over-the-ear headphones, ready to spend a few hours lost in editing. |
6dd46563fd15438b952a4b24a42360cc | ['b9e78788041a41c8a69ae3a6ea241b61'] | “You know, I bet all the guys in the room are jealous you're taken.” A deep voice rang out. Turning she connected eyes with her elder Brother.
“Your still made its Jon aren’t you?”
“A little. But at least I know you won’t be going home with any of these assholes.”
“Robb.”
“Sansa.”
A slow pause rang between them as he went and draped his jacket around his sister's shoulders.
“Robb, when did you know you wanted to marry Jeyne?” Sansa asked, looking out at the garden. Pondering for a moment, he smiled and looked down at his wedding ring. Unfortunately only he could bare the symbol of their love, with a heartbeat still beating under the band.
“When she smiled. It was like magic.”
“Magic?”
“It's indescribable. I just knew.”
“I think Jon wants to ask.”
“He does. Unfortunately for him, Jon can be read like an open book.”
“What should I do?”
“What do you want to say?” He asked, hoping to not really get answer.
“Yes.”
“If the magic is right, say yes.” reaching over, she kissed his cheek. Handing him his jacket back.
“Thank you. You always give the best advice.”
“Well, I am the smartest.”
5. Parentage
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hi! Could you please write about the Whale!verse with little Robb Snow and his parents? Or maybe even before Robb was born and Jon and Sansa decide to leave Winterfell?
It was unusual for Sansa to visit the crypts. She never did without her father present before. The way the stone faces of her past descendants stared down at her gave her slight chills. Turning around one of the corners, she felt something wrapped around her wrist as she was pulled behind a pillar. A hand covering her mouth. Quickly looking up she came eye to eye with Jon Snow.
Her Half brother.
“Jon.” She whispered behind his hand. His eyes were slightly wide as he shushed her.
“I hope your not to disappointed in me Lyanna.” Her father's voice rang through her ears as she realized why he was hiding.
“Are you eavesdropping?”
“Shush.”
“It's not very gentlemen like-” Jon Covered her mouth once more.
“Listen.”
“Lyanna. He goes tall just as you always wanted a son to. Getting along with the others as if he were made from my own seed. Jon. A strong name you picked for him my lovely sister.”
Both froze at the mentions of Jon’s name. His hand removed from her mouth as he looked stunned. Sansa grew closer to Jon as if on instinct in a way to protect him unconsciously.
“Robert is coming up soon. Before the long winter starts once more, and he wishes to propose a marriage between my eldest daughter and his eldest son. I don’t know what I should do. If Rhaegar had not been killed at...If I had just gotten there in time, we would be having this discussion I suppose. For all his faults Rhaegar was not his father. Even know, Jon has flecks of Violet in his eyes that I know did not belong to you. OH Lyanna, you would weep at the man he is becoming. Growing taller and taller each year, he will soon be taller than Robb. Arya sticks to him like glue, Rickon and Bran, look at him with such brotherly love. And Sansa. Well she follows what her mother thinks of him. Always trying to please Cat.”
Jon looks down. His breath becoming even more uneven as his temper is growing. Sansa holds his hand tighter at the realization of what is happening, what her father meant of her upcoming wedding, and what it would have probably been.
“She still doesn't know who Jon really is. I keep my promises, little sister. The only person I truly talk to is you. I’m frightened what Robert would do if he found out. I do not wish to fight with him.”
Taking one step out, Jon turned to face his Father.
“Than don’t.” Turning quickly up on his heels, Ned came face to face with his Son.
“Jon?”
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice grew.
“Jon...IF...you weren’t supposed to know.”
“Am I...Am I really even a Stark.”
“You are. Just...your not my son.”
“Whose son is he?” Sansa piped up, walking from behind the pillar.
“Sansa?”
“Who's son is he father?”
“Sansa...Please?”
“No! What did you mean by marriage? And it might have been different if Rehgar was still alive?”
“Sansa.” Jon didn’t turn to look at her.
“No I want to know.”
“Jon is...Jon is Lyanna’s, my sisters, Son. She made me promise that I would save her son from Robert. Who was bent on destroying every last Targaryen would have killed her only son.”
“My father is...A Targaryen?”
“You are of my blood.”
“And if I stay...I will destroy your own blood.”
“You don’t know that.” Jon turned around and started to leave the crypt. Sansa stared at her father long and hard in a moment of silence as she quickly left as well, running after Jon. She knew he would go to the only place he would find solace. With the gods.
When Sansa found him he was kneeling in front of the tree trying to fight back the tears.
“Jon.” She whispered as she walked up to him. Placing a hand on his cheek, she wiped away some tears.
“Sansa. I have to leave.” She paused, for some reason she didn’t want him to.
“Jon. You can’t. Robb would never let you go and Arya would be devastated. Rickon and Bran wouldn’t know what to do. And I-” She stopped mid sentence and looked away. Removing her hands from his face, he quickly wrapped her hand in his.
“I have to leave. If King Robert finds out that his best friend has been harboring a Targaryen, even a bastard one, he would slaughter the entire family.”
“I don’t want you to.” | f9d5996fad7a4b3397cb74c001c195b9 | ['b9e78788041a41c8a69ae3a6ea241b61'] | The third time Sansa met Jon, he walked into her family store once more. This time he came alone. It was a week after the attack, and Sansa still had her bandage on wrapped around her arm.
“Hi.” He said, walking up to the counter. As usual the store was closed.
“Hi.” She said, looking down at her hands. She was rubbing the area where the wolf had licked. Sansa had been doing that unconsciously as her thoughts would go back to the mysterious stranger she had met.
“I’m sorry about what happened.” He said, gulping to guess her reaction.
“No, its cool. Not your fault I guess. Hey did you know my ex boyfriend can turn into a troll?” She said sarcastically as she started to make her way down an aisle.
“Troll?”
“Well, hes always a troll, but still. Maybe a warning would be great. You know like, hey, My ex say us talking and she thinks I’m into you and all of that.” Her voice went deeper as if to mock him. But Jon just followed her laughing at certain imations. “Oh, and by the way, she can turn into a killer wolf.” She turned around, to find Jon standing right behind her. He swooped her into his arms and placed a deep kiss on her lips. His lips linger on hers, before she pulled him into another kiss.
“I never said I wasn’t interested in you Sansa Stark. I followed you from Kings Landing. You may not remember me, but the dog who attacked your Troll ex was me. I couldn’t bare to watch him hurt such a lovely person.”
“That dog. I thought you were a pure white husky mix. You got hit by the car. I-” She paused looking at him. “I changed in front of you.” She gave him a little shove, a blush rising to her pale complexion.
“The kindness you showed me, was such intoxicating. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His hand ran through her hair, as he played with a strand. She leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
“So, do you have anymore ex-girlfriends I need to know about, say a vampire one or something like that?” He gave a soft smile as he pulled her to a bruising kiss.
5. Duel
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Oh I'm so happy you're taking prompts! Could I please request Jon/Sansa -- AU where Jon is a known Targaryen (I leave it up to you if Robert still won the Rebellion or if Rhaegar did). Sansa is betrothed to Joffrey. But when he shows up for the wedding, Jon challenges Joffrey (like Petyr did with Brandon for Cat). Unlike Petyr, Jon emerges victorious.
“She does not wish to marry Joffrey Baratheon.” Rhaenys spoke loudly to her father. Her younger brother Aegon nodded in agreement.
“Jon’ cousin Robb, Sansas older brother tells us that he has beat her.” Jon who was standing watching Sansa Stark play with her direwolf in the red keeps grounds. Ghost still just a pup, was sitting by him, patiently waiting for his master's attention.
“I still can not do anything. Neither can her parents. We need a wedding to help solidify the break between the realm. If I say that Joffrey Baratheon does not have my blessing, than a war might start all over again.”
“But why her father? Margaery Tyrell would have been a better choice.”
“Her father has asked her to be wedded to Aegon.”
“I’ll marry her, when I am a lifeless corpse.”
“Aegon.” His Mother, Eli Martell hissed from her seat. She was sewing a tear in one of her sons tunics.
“Sansa is our friend. She is of the north, marry her to Aegon, to Jon even. Tell them its to make a stranger contention between the North and the South. The realm will understand that logic.”
“But the Baratheons will not. Stannis is already breathing down my neck for putting a sword through his brothers heart. We can not afford another war. I’m afraid we may not win this one.”
“If Joffrey marries Sansa, than the Baratheons will have a leg into the northern territory. A very massive part of the country Rhaegar.” His wife spoke again. Her eyes flashing to her step son standing in the window. Barely even paying attention to the conversation. Eli may not have given birth to Jon, but she cared about him deeply. “Besides, there's other ways to win a maiden without starting a war.” Jon turned when he felt his step mother talking to him. Ghost still looking only at his master and following him as he made his way over to the rest of the clan.
“Jon, how can you let your cousin marry a horrid boy?”
“He has not choice Rhaenys.” Aegon said following back in a chair. Their father watched Jon with calculation.
“What are you thinking about little wolf?” Eli came up behind Jon, and rested a soft hand on her shoulder. It was a term of endearment given to her when Jon entered the family. During Lyanna’s pregnancy, Eli was the one to take care of her, and grew very fond of the other women. That fondness grew to love when Jon entered the world. He was always the calm child of the three. The easiest to raise. Daenerys said he was a wolf raised by dragons.
“Sansa’s Mother.” He spoke finally.
“Lady Catelyn Stark?” Rhaegar asked. Curious as to what was growing through his youngests mind.
“Before she married my uncle, she was betrothed to his brother, Brandon Stark.”
“Yes, I believe she was.”
“Why did she marry Eddard Stark instead?” Rhaenys asked, looking at her father.
“Your grandfather had him beheaded. One of the causes for the rebellion in the first place.” He said, staring at Jon. Eli gripped Jons shoulder as to somehow protect him from the past. |
04fad9ceaa1f4ea09282a0c127154af1 | ['b9f1f0ccb27f4f7baf91be335f99bab2'] | _“Connect Four”, round eleven, started 11:19 PM, ended at 11:22 PM. Patton. This doesn’t make any sense; it’s almost as if he can predict my moves before I make them. This game does not involve luck in any way, so it isn’t possible that he’s just extraordinarily lucky._
* * *
_“Connect Four”, round sixteen, started 11:45 PM, ended at 11:50 PM. Patton. I do not understand._
* * *
_"Connect Four”, round twenty-three, started 12:24 AM, ended at 12:27 AM. Patton._
* * *
“Uh, Lo? Are you.. Okay? I think we should go to bed,” Patton frowned in concern, rubbing the back of his neck.
“This doesn’t make sense. How are you doing this?” Logan demanded. He was harshly scowling, gripping his small notebook tightly in one hand while his pen tapped irritatedly against his leg in the other. He looked very tired, almost like he could fall asleep where he sat. They were in the middle of their twenty-fourth round. Patton could see the next couple actions he should take if he wanted to win; planning it out wasn’t as difficult as it seemed. He’d only need to put a chip in slot number four, and then, depending on Logan’s move..
No. While Patton didn’t like cheating or throwing games (it really just felt dishonest), he’d make an exception for this. “I.. Don’t know?” He sheepishly mumbled. Patton glanced at his “competitor” one last time, noting his disgruntled, ruffled expression.
He pretended to think about his next move for a couple seconds, and then picked up a chip. He intentionally put it in an inopportune spot, and watched the logical side’s eyes narrow.
* * *
Patton watched Logan sigh in what seemed to be relief when he finally connected four, ending Patton’s twenty-nine year streak. Logan pulled out his notebook, scribbled a couple sentences, and closed it. Moving to put his notebook away, Logan hesitated, opening it back up and writing something else. Patton felt a weight lift from his shoulders at Logan’s mood shift. Honestly, he looked.. validated.
“I must apologize for my rudeness,” Logan crisply stated, meeting the moral side’s eyes again. He still looked somewhat upset, but now it was perhaps more from embarrassment than anything else. “I was.. Frustrated.”
Patton laughed, waving it off. “It’s perfectly fine, Lo. Right about now I’m all _four_ going to bed, though.” Logan tiredly nodded, barely acknowledging the pun with an eye-roll. They put the game back in its box together, and they left it sitting on the coffee table for Roman in the morning. After Patton had cleaned some of the mess they all left (he could finish in the morning) they both headed for their respective rooms. Patton glanced at Logan one last time before he entered his room, satisfied in seeing Logan’s usual stoicness returned.
Patton softly smiled, entered his room, and closed the door.
* * *
_“Connect Four”, round twenty-four, started 12:27 AM, ended at 12:31 AM. Myself. Patton Sanders’ streak has now officially ended. I will make sure to get sleep; the sleep deprivation is obviously affecting my mental capacity._
_I also will make sure to look into playing chess with Patton at a later date. It could prove to be a.. Learning experience._
**Author's Note:**
> ~~was that good?! did i do good?!~~
>
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> This is my first fic for the Sanders Sides, with hopefully more on the way! Please forgive me if it's ooc, I'm still learning how to write these boys. Thanks for reading! | 70e6dd1225f840da8dd2684ff620a10e | ['b9f1f0ccb27f4f7baf91be335f99bab2'] | > Go check out my moirail AceIrregular's stuff! It's really good and it needs more love!! They're currently writing a really awesome Fireflystuck AU, so go check it out!!! Gogogogogo!!!
> Here's a link:
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11878377/chapters/26823015
==> Jade: Be John.
You are now John Egbert once more, and _holy shit you really don't want Jade to find out about this, especially because of her relationship with Dave._
But it seems that Fate or Gog or whatever is up there is in cahoots against you, seeing as Jade is forcing you to remain bed-ridden until _"that sickness goes away, John!"_
But you know that it won't go away. This stupid thing won't go away unless Dave reciprocates your feelings _(highly unlikely)_ or you get the costly surgery required to remove the roots from your system. That's not gonna happen, as much as you hate this stupid thing, you'd rather feel like complete shit and remember Dave than forget him and be healthy. You're his best bro (as much as you want to be more) and he's yours, and you know him well enough to know that it'd kill him if you suddenly stopped remembering him one day.
Or, you know. You could die. That'd make it go away.
You quickly derail this train of thought, instead opting to pester Dave or Rose to pass some time and distract you from your current situation a bit.
You can't help but smile as you pester Dave.
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:05 --
TG: sup egbert
EB: hey, dave!
TG: to what do i owe this glorious egbertian conversation
EB: not much, i guess.
EB: i got a little sick and now jade is forcing me to stay in bed until i'm healthy again.
TG: damn
TG: thats jade for you
TG: im like 99 percent sure shes a force of nature
TG: she could probably destroy you with one glare
TG: you get out of that bed and shell give you that look
TG: the one that says sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up or ill rip you a new one
EB: pretty much. :B
EB: how're you?
TG: im pretty ok i guess same as usual
TG: hey man
EB: yeah?
TG: youve been really off lately
TG: like im used to you spacing out but youre taking it to a whole new level now
TG: its like youre a fucking alien or some shit
TG: youre not gonna grow horns on me or anything right
EB: what does that even mean, dave? you make no sense.
TG: what are you talking about i make perfect sense
TG: but anyways
TG: you okay dude
You grimace. This is exactly what you'd wanted to avoid.
EB: yeah! i'm fine!
EB: i'm pretty sure it's because of this stupid flu or whatever i've got.
EB: nothing to worry about, i swear!
TG: if youre sure man
TG: wouldnt want my best bro to suddenly drop dead or anything
TG: like im all for dead things ive got a shit ton of preserved dead things
TG: im all over that shit
TG: but a dead thing that looks like an egbert is not something i want to deal with
TG: you feel me dude
EB: yeah, i feel you, you dork.
TG: egbert what the fuck
TG: i am not a dork i am the coolest and most ironic person to ever walk this earth
TG: people see me walk by on the street and theyre like
TG: if only i could be half as cool and ironic as that kid right there
TG: hes got that shit down-packed
EB: sure, dave. :B
EB: talk to you later!
TG: yeah
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:35 --
You sigh tiredly. You didn't know a conversation that didn't actually involve any talking could be so exhausting. You hate lying to your friends, but that's all you ever seem to do anymore.
You notice Rose is pestering you.
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:37 --
TT: Hello, John.
EB: hey rose.
TT: How are you doing? Have you gotten any worse since Prospit?
EB: only a little, i guess. a few more petals, a little bit more blood. the usual, hehe. but really, you don't have to worry about me! i'm fine.
TT: John, we both know you are not, in fact, fine. You don't have to lie about being okay.
TT: John?
TT: Are you there?
EB:
EB:
EB: ...i'm scared, rose. i'm
EB: i'm going to die, aren't i? i'm going to die because of these fucking flowers and i don't want to and i'm scared. i don't want to die rose but i can't forget him either i can't it would kill him and i can't do that to him i can't
TT: I know, John. I understand, I really do.
TT: You aren't going to die.
TT: I promise you, you are going to be just fine.
EB: how do you know? that's... a really big promise for something like this.
TT: I know because I've been through this, too. You know Kanaya?
TT: My flowers were green craspedias.
TT: https://www.fiftyflowers.com/product/craspedia-billy-balls-green-flower.htm
EB: what? wait, what?? really??? are those even flowers? i mean i knew you liked her but i didn't know...
EB: rose i had no idea.
TT: Yes, I know. I tried very hard to keep it hidden from you all.
TT: I finally managed to work up the courage to confess my feelings to her, and she reciprocated in kind.
TT: You will be fine.
TT: Trust me. I know from experience.
EB: but he'd have to return my feelings, rose!
EB: and he's with jade right now.
TT: Yes, I am aware.
TT: Do not worry about that.
EB:
EB: okay, if you say so. i trust you. |
df2eb2f50214481b8b3e6234f7df89d1 | ['ba0ca233b7ee4949a73217d31dff4130'] |
Whiskey Lullaby
You and Sam were going great there for a while, but something just hadn't felt right. You loved him, you really did but you felt empty, incomplete. Like the spark you both had was gone, were you just bored? didn't matter, you wanted a break and you thought it was the best way to go. you kicked him out of your house, since he had moved in of course, you told him you would call, would text or give him a sign when you felt ready.
_She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette_ _She broke his heart, he spent his whole life tryin' to forget_
Months flew by, he waited at the phone, sat there and drank, thinking that what if he had called you just to check in. you were a hunter, what if he was waiting on nothing... "no, nonsense, (y/n) is the best." he lied to himself so he would push on. he loved you. always had always will and he knew it would only stop the day he died, maybe not even then.
__We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time__ _But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind_
_Until the night_
_ **Dean's P.O.V:** _
I can't believe ( y/n) did that to him, years of togetherness and out of nowhere she dropped him like a dime on the side walk. Now, ten years later, she didn't bother a single call or text, she didn't bother checking in to at least let us know she was alive I blew it off but Sam.. oh my poor Sammy. She had broken him. His habit, diet and soul purpose became a sorrowed bottle of jack and a royal gin to chase it. Cas an I watched in pain as we watched him sink lower and lower.
That night... it was now two years since he had done it... I just... the scene I wasn't ready for it. We had gone to a bar... Sam called in early, i figured he was tired... I didn't know. When I got home that night I was too drunk to notice anything and well... it hurt but I went and slept through it all.
_He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger_ __And finally drank away her memory_ _ _Life is short, but this time it was bigger_ _Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_ _We found him with his face down in the pillow_ _With a note that said, 'I'll love her till I die.'_ _And when we buried him beneath the willow_ _The angels sang a whiskey lullaby_
I woke to the horrid scene... I wanted to scoop him up, clean him up, make it all better pray for Cas to heal him but... Sam was gone. No more and no less, I saw the bottle, the silencer... his face was buried to hide his tears, weakness and screams, The note, the note was the deal breaker. I lost my cool in a fit of rage and loss... she did this (y/n) (y/l/n) did this. I hope she hates herself. I hope she dies, I hope...I hope... I need to calm down before I call her that is for sure.
_ **(Y/N) P.O.V:** _
I got that call from Dean that morning. He had been crying, his voice was hoarse and broken, he slurred a bit so he had definitely been drinking and I was unsure why.
"Hey dean, what's wrong, are you guys okay?" His response shook me hard and broke me deep within.
"No... we aren't...(y/n), Sam killed himself. He is dead and I called to let you know where we are having his funeral in a a few hours."
I almost dropped my phone, I held in a choked sob and tears started to pour down my face as my body shook, there was no way this was happening... why? Why did I have to push him so far, keep him so close yet so far and now... he wasn't there at all to push or pull.
"D..dean... I... I'm sorry.. i should have called or something. " of course he yelled at me, cursed me.. and everything else before giving me the address and hour. to say the least i was done, but what i was and wanted didn't matter.
_**Dean's P.O.V.** _
When we buried Sam, I gave him a final goodbye... I gave him a peaceful funeral. No, I didn't burn him; I should have and I couldn't, I wanted the possibility of coming back to be available but for now, I would leave him, at least until I was sure that she would be forgotten if he did come back. I tasted vinegar in my throat when I asked, but I asked her to come back with me... i didn't need her but she was taking this hard for someone who hated the one person who loved her most in this god forsaken world.
_[la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la] 2x_
_The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself_
__For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath_ _
_**Cas' P.O.V.** _
(y/n) was weak, she was always sleeping, drinking and she rarely ate. she cried and if she hunted, she wasn't just killing the creature she was over killing it, like she was taking her anger out. she always had a cough drop... if she was interrogating she always played it off as she was sick. (cough drops cover up the smell of alcohol on the breath, just a random fact for those who don't know) | 7f7da53495ea45aa9d208f417abcd465 | ['ba0ca233b7ee4949a73217d31dff4130'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sorry its so sad but it was my first fan fic of SPN so bear with me
still...so still. still enough that it looks like he isn't breathing. its dark inside and there is no light. is there a beat, a beat that shows he lived....Cas couldn't tell. he had never had a heart before hell, he was still an angel. blood leaked from Deans head , arms and other wounded extremities. he cries and the salty tears stung his own facial wounds... how would he cope if dean never made it.
a slight buzz came from deans mouth and cas new he was trying to draw in air but his ribs where to pained to move. " c'mon dean... you can do it, i love you dean! i need you!" he started to yell. tears still dripped from his cheeks to deans face. sam came up behind him and started to hum a little tune and deans eyes shot open." Cas.... " there was no more to come from him. his eyes drew heavy and his chest stopped moving in its panicked rhythm and all was still.
Sam cried a little but his shaky voice rang out in a sad, low tune of pain..
"Don't you fret, dear Castiel, He doesn't feel any pain. A little fall of rain Can hardly hurt him now. You're here, that's all he needs to know. And you will keep him safe, And you will keep him close, And rain will make the flowers grow. " his voice shook and he buried his face in his hands as castiel held him closer... he appreciated what sam was doing, he too, sang back.
"But you will live, my Dean,
Dear God above!
If I could heal your wounds with words of love!" cas only cursed god as he sang this line, he hated that god was taking his one true love from him, he still didn't know if he could save him this time like last time.
sam couldn't respond and charlie was the only strong one left so she took over.
" Just hold Him now, and let it be,
Shelter him,
Comfort Him..." she was weakening but not a tear she would shed since death was their bitch and she had a deep pit feeling that he would be returning soon, and when he did she would make sure dean knows about cas.
"he would live a hundred years
If I could show him how.
I won't desert him now. " cas whimpered out. this was so much harder to do when your practically choking on your own heart and literally praying all the pieces melt back together.
"The rain can't hurt Him now.
This rain will wash away what's past!
And you will keep him safe,
And you will keep him close,
he'll sleep in your embrace at last!
The rain that brings you here is heaven-blessed!
The skies begin to clear and he's at rest.
A breath away from where you are,
He's come home from so far...
So don't you fret, Dear Castiel ,
he doesn't feel any pain.
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt him now."
Charlie choked and knew she wasn't far from crying but she was going to fight it for as long as possible, she had to be strong for the only other strong one here was dead in the arms of his guardian angel. she thought it poetic really, the protector protected by the protectee. She knew this was killing them both, she had to bring him back... if it would be the death of her so be it.
cas started up again when he caught his breath but he had made a mental note that when Dean came back after cas fought for it, the were never watching this movie ever,
"I'm here,"
"That's all He needs to know."
"And you will keep him safe,
And you will keep him close,"
"I will stay with him,
'Til he is sleeping..."
"And rain,"
"And rain,"
"Will make the flowers..."
"Will make the flowers...grow."
they finished singing and Charlie's eyes started to sweat the tears of pain she felt deep down. how could someone have done this to them and why, she still didn't know what she was up against when sam had called right after cas had hung up with sam... what was going on.
before she could ask, sam spoke through his cracked voice, " well, see, we where hunting this thing and all we knew that the next target would be here... we didn't know that it was castiel... we thought it was an innocent. but when they arrived the demon had killed dean and cas was just coming to from the neurotoxin that paralyzed him. that's when i was called, then i called you and we all some how ended up here all in this little place called hell."
this surprised her none, she knew the boys could find their victims of their own but she never suspected that they could predict the future. now, it was to late to figure out any of this... they lost a member of their family and might loose another is cas goes after it again. maybe she could make a deal with it, she would give hers for his.. he was worth that and so was dean.
Cas lifted deans head to his own, cas prayed that maybe a kiss from him would wake him. it always seemed to work for princesses maybe it would work for dean, it was true love after all and the other person didn't have to know did they? he ghosted deans lips before meeting the coldness of them with his warm bloody ones but it wasn't working. Cas let out a strangled growl and lifted his head to the sky, " You bastard!! I gave you my all and this is how you repay me!? Take away my one happiness in the world?!" Castiel's grace suddenly grew in rage and as so, lightning and thunder rolled across the midnight blue sky, making the rain look like white drops of pain. |
b81f26c4142145098f979408ee876d8a | ['ba0e2254c441406eadd98e0f9c3a427c'] | Throughout the picnic, Ethan didn’t let out a single peep; he simply nodded and gasped when needed, his heart too heavy from his realization that he is in love with both of them and that he is, in fact, queer. He couldn’t believe it, so much that it scared off his voice, his appetite, and his way of thinking. He desperately wanted to assume everyone thought of their friends like this; the desire to hold them as they fall asleep, kiss them good morning, and just be in their presence and warmth all day. But he knew it wasn’t normal in the slightest, which made his whole body feel like it was caving in on itself. He felt nauseous as he tried to blink away tears, mentally hearing his parents call him foul names. Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, his whole body going cold as he freezes. “Ethan are you alright? Your whole body went pale-”, Signe started before being cut off.
“I didn’t tell my parents that I’d be with you guys after school,” Ethan’s voice was laced with fear, his lip trembling as his whole body visibly shook. Sean placed his hand on Ethan’s knee, trying to calm him down but evidently increasing his nerves as his heart sped up. Signe and Sean shared a worried look as Ethan coughed up a dry sob, no tears falling out of his eyes.
“Can’t you just, text them?”, Signe reasoned, her eyes hopefully as she looked up at him. Her kindness made Ethan feel light and warm, a single tear gliding down his cheek. He shook his head yes, wiping his face with both his hands, pretending like texting them would calm him down. Reaching for his phone, he messaged his mom that he was out with friends, knowing exactly how angry she will get when she reads it. He looks up towards the sky and prays to whatever god there is that she’s in the best mood she’s been in for decades. Taking in a trembling breath, he shut his eyes, letting the tears fall before opening his eyes. He stared with blank eyes but a twisting smile at Sean and Signe’s worried faces.
“I should be fine, I’m just a big baby for rules,” Ethan lied through his teeth, fear building up in his body, “I’ll be fine.” Balling up her sleeve, Signe wiped away his tears, a small grin on her face. Ethan attempted to smile back, leaning into her touch, savoring the wonderful feeling he got from being near her. Sean patted his leg before rubbing it, sorrowful blue eyes gazing at him as Ethan almost cried from their touch. He almost let out a sob from how good he felt, but was able to hold it in, instead his reddening cheeks raising as he gave them an honest smile. “I love you two,” Ethan unconsciously mumbled, feeling Signe and Sean freeze in their tracks. Ethan tensed up, shifted his gaze to his lap, biting down on his tongue, hard. He felt his chest tighten, it feeling extremely heavy like someone was sitting on it. Ethan attempted to breathe, but his body refused to move. He sensed Sean and Signe look at each other, causing him to close his eyes tightly, bracing for whatever they throw at him.
“Ethan,” Sean started, causing Ethan’s heart to jump out of his chest. He gulped, waiting for his next words, his breathing becoming shallow. “We love you, too, but in a friend way. Only in a friend way,” Sean said steadily, leaning his head down to try and catch Ethan’s eyes. A cold wave washed over Ethan’s body, instantly turning hot as tears welled up in his eyes, his nose getting stuffy. Quietly, he nodded, a bubble forming in his throat, quickly becoming light headed. Grabbing his things, he swallowed thickly, standing up on two shaky legs. Without a word, Ethan walked back down in silence, the sunshine feeling disgusting on his body as the flowers tried to smile at him. As tears started to rapidly fall down, Ethan grabbed at his stomach, letting out a heave. He lowered his eyes, sniffling as a sob raked through his body. His lips quivering as a cough left him mouth, he stumbled down the sidewalk, travelling to the bus stop.Sean and Signe watched him walk away, hesitating on going after him, before deciding to stay put and give him space.
The bus ride home was filled with a million thoughts of the heartbreak and dread, suffocating Ethan’s brain. Ethan sat all the way in the back, noiselessly crying, the occasional squeak leaving his mouth. He felt betrayed. The months of falling hopelessly in love with two people who never truly loved him like he did. They would never love him like he did. More tears fell down, his body gasping for air as he looked out the window. As the bus stopped at the place near his house, he regretfully stepped off, contemplating running away with nothing but seventeen dollars and the clothes off his back. Before he could step onto the driveway, his front door opened, his mother and father waiting at the door for him. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the hell that would come his way. Reaching the doorway, he felt himself be harshly dragged inside, the door slamming behind him. Before he could fully process what was happening, a hard slap hit him across the face, leaving his face stinging.
“What did I tell you about hanging out with friends?!”, His mother screamed, her eyes vicious as her eyebrows pointed downwards. Suddenly, his dad grabbed him by the neck, bringing him closer to him, squeezing his neck. Ethan resisted the urge to push him off, knowing well he’d anger him even more.
“Are you fucking crying already? I’ll give you something to cry about,” His father spat in his face, pushing him down to the ground, his mother watching with dangerous eyes. Ethan gasped for air, rubbing at his neck, his other hand covering his head just in case he gets a blow. His father lifted his off the floor, shaking him roughly. “You’re going to cry like a bitch, unlike a man, huh?”, His father screamed in his face, getting angrier as more tears fell down Ethan’s face, choking out a sob. Ethan silently wished he’d be beaten to a point of no return, never to wake up to his despicable life. Eventually he stopped crying somewhere in between the distasteful words and hits, his mind drifting off to a different place as he disappeared from reality. He no longer heard or felt his parents; all he felt was peace and muffled noises.
Ethan woke up in the hallway, his parents screaming at him to get to school, his mind slightly behind his body. Struggling to get up, Ethan stood with wobbly knees, holding onto the wall for support. “Ethan, now!”, his mother screamed at him as he trudged up the stairs. He ignored her, grabbing a sweatshirt, turning around to his mother grabbing his wrist and slapping him, painfully dragging him downstairs. “When I tell you now, I mean now,” She scolded him. Ethan tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes, still out of sorts as he stumbled over his feet. Being dragged towards the front door, Ethan grabbed at his backpack, thanking himself that he didn’t waste all his money. He got shoved out the door, his eyes burning from tiredness, tears welling up in his eyes from lack of sleep. He wasn’t sure if he had anything in him to cry over Sean and Signe once more. Sighing, he ran to the bus stop, his body screaming in pain as he took each step. The only lucky thing he had was that he caught his bus on time and got a seat by himself, giving him time to cover his face with his hoodie. Ethan closed his eyes, slowly moving his body around and stretching it to see where his pain was, a nauseating feeling growing in his stomach as he tried to swallow. He rubbed at his neck, reaching for his phone to check the camera, sighing when seeing large purple bruises. He tilted the camera to see his face, seeing his acne bleeding and his cheeks bruised, finally realizing the large headache he had. Gulping down saliva, Ethan mindlessly checked to see if Sean or Signe had texted him; they hadn’t. Ethan groaned, his heart beating slow and steady as he rode to school.
He got to chemistry class before Signe, giving him time to prepare what he wanted to say to her. Unfortunately, by the time she arrived in the class, Ethan already had his head resting on his cold desk, trying to ease his headache as well as calm him down. No matter how many times the teacher told him to lift his head up or go to the principal, Ethan didn’t budge, his stomach turning every time he thought of it. Ultimately, class ended. Immediately, Ethan rushed out the room, not stopping when the teacher called his name. He had used this pattern in all his classes until lunch came rolling around, his body physically ill from all his anxiety and pain. He sat at his usual seat without grabbing food, covering his entire face with his hood, patiently waiting for the lunch break to be over. Uncertain on what to do, Sean and Signe stood behind him with their lunch trays. “Ethan-”, Sean spoke, being cut off when the man in question turned around, taking off his hood. At that second, the couple gasped, worry and regret filling their hearts. Ethan felt revolted by the sound of Sean’s voice, his entire chest hurting from it all. He made his eyes blank as Signe stayed quiet, slowly reaching her hand out for him.
“Ethan, we know you’re upset, but we truly meant no harm,” Signe whispered, her words stinging into Ethan’s skin, the word making his gag. He couldn’t stand seeing their faces anymore. The people that truly made him happy, made him feel loved, didn’t reciprocate the feeling in the slightest. Scrunching up his eyebrows, he grabbed his bag, pushing his way through him, shamelessly walking with way through the crowd. Walking outside the campus, he climbed his way up the smallest building, leaving his stuff on the ground. Gradually, he climbed to the biggest building, faintly hearing people yell towards him. Faintly. He stood at the edge of the flat roof, deeply inhaling the cool air as it whipped past him, blowing his hair everywhere. Slowly, Ethan outstretched his arms, letting the wispy wind shake his clothes all about. Finally, he was able to properly breathe, the crisp air funneling into his lungs smoothly. Ethan was at peace as he teetered forwards and backwards, getting closer to the edge. The wind got louder and louder, the sinking feeling growing in this pit of his stomach as he felt, after a long time, free at last. | e25fa695e0b44f6cb8a6f38748166152 | ['ba0e2254c441406eadd98e0f9c3a427c'] | A warm tear slid down Ethan’s cheek. One by one, more fell, his desire to be with both of them capturing his brain with viciously sweet thoughts. It was harder for Ethan to breath as he brought his sheet up to his chin, swallowing his breath as he heard footsteps. Before he could lie down and pretend to sleep, his mom rushed into his room, seeing him desperately wipe at his eyes. “Ethan, you haven’t finished your chores!”, She yelled at him, her expression sour as she held a towel around her neck. Ethan blinked away his tears as he immediately moved out of bed, not wanting to aggravate his mother even further. He knew she had seen him crying, but she cared more about him doing his chores and showing him that he was a slave to them while he lived underneath their roof. Ethan silently walked past her, feeling her anger seep off as he sped away. Ethan walked at the side of the steps out of habit, traveling downstairs to see which chore he didn’t do, counting all of them at the top of his head.
“I didn’t clean out the refrigerator,” Ethan said to himself, his voice quieter than a whisper. Going into the kitchen, he felt a presence behind him, causing him out of human instinct to look over. His heart quickened as he saw his mom standing there, eyeing him closely as Ethan grabbed the ketchup bottle and checked the date. She watched him for the five minutes it took to clean the fridge thoroughly, watching him as he climbed back up the stairs. Ethan could’ve sworn he was going to puke once he entered his room, feeling a small sense of safety, hurriedly walking to his bed. He silently tucked himself in bed, the thought of the boy and his girlfriend kissing him appearing once more in his head. Ethan sniffled, covering his face with his pillow, hopelessly hoping his mom didn’t tell his dad that he was crying.
Waking up in the morning was as unpleasant as Ethan thought it would be. The booming voice of his dad yelling awoke him, making him frantically kick off his covers, rushing to his dresser to get dressed. His eyes felt like they were glued shut, his mouth tasting grim, and his hands were twitching as he looked through clothes he’s worn for the past five years. He threw on a maroon shirt and his old denim jeans, taking an extra few seconds to look in the mirror to see if he was presentable. He frowned at his acne, hearing his dad yell again, angrier than before, causing Ethan to grab his shoes and backpack, sprinting down the stairs. He sped walked into the kitchen, counting everything in his backpack so he knew he was prepared. Once he reached the fridge, he felt a hard smack across his face, his body screaming at the pain. He froze, waiting to hear what his mother was going to say to him, but the words never left her mouth. Quickly he turned around and glanced in his parents’ direction, immediately avoiding their gaze as a pit formed in his stomach, his dad shoving him out the way of the fridge before he could grab something. Biting his tongue, Ethan sat down at the kitchen table and put on his shoes, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. Standing up, he made his way out of the house without another word, not wanting to stay there for one more second.
Ethan strolled to the bus stop, his breathing easing up as he leaned against a pole, surrounded by other students. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, frowning when realizing that he never asked for his phone back. Slumping his shoulders, he started to daydream about the couple once again of them holding his hand as he waited for the bus, him standing comfortably in between them. He smiled at himself before it turned into disgust; the frowned upon feeling he felt as he stood, thinking about a boy holding his hand. The bus rolled to a slow crawl, the swarm of students piling on alerting Ethan to move onto it, finding a seat all the way in the back, watching with a close eye on everyone. As he neared his new school, he thanked that his mom decided to pick the one with the couple, butterflies welling up in his stomach. Ethan tried to think more about the girl than the guy in attempts to make him feel less disgusting. He inhaled through his mouth, adjusting himself in his seat as he daydreamed about her kissing softly underneath his ear, holding his hand with her delicate ones. Ethan hugged his backpack to his chest, the feeling to cry as this person he’s never properly met makes his heart flutter with joy, something he rarely feels anymore. For the rest of the ride, Ethan thought of peaceful thoughts of her rosy lips curled in a gentle grin, her dark hair falling slightly over her mesmerizing eyes with pink dusted cheeks. Occasionally, the boy would appear and kiss Ethan’s forehead, his dull fingernails scratching at his scalp, he could almost feel it. Every time Ethan would notice he had entered his thoughts, he forcefully shoved him out, but it only lasted a few minutes. |
971cb69a0e9d409c98286a91d55fb006 | ['ba1f1388a1af4d33861538cc4cd43bc5'] | “Finch. You were asked repeatedly to do something about that boy. You were warned of the consequences if he wasn’t brought in line. With all due respect, I’m going to pick up the pieces of a student you should have protected.” Brogan walked away towards her classroom to get her boots and bag. “He’ll need the hospital by the way.”
Nancy was dressed in some of Jane’s sweats and curled up on the sofa, starring into space when Brogan returned from getting changed herself. Jane was in school with the others and Jim was in work. So it gave Brogan time. She’d fixed the broken girl a hot drink that wouldn’t be consumed and brought her a blanket for the chill that would have undoubtedly set in her bones.
The second Brogan sat beside Her, Nancy broke down into an unrelenting sob. Brogan did what she could; she rested Nancy’s head upon her shoulder and stroked her wavy hair until she cried herself out.
“Am I suspended?” Nancy asked with a hiccup, long after her tears dried up.
“Not if I have anything to do with it. I’ll pull out my scar.” Brogan chuckled hollowly with a wave of her hand.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I know I shouldn’t have-“ she uttered with such sadness.
“Hunny, I know why you did.” Brogan brought Nancy’s head up so she could look her in the eyes. “I understand.”
“She’s-“
“-I know.” Brogan nodded. “Your mother tried to tell me. I think she just wanted somebody to know.”
“I overheard her and dad. They were fighting and she told him. She’s leaving.” Nancy sobbed.
“That’s got to be a good thing Nancy. Take it from me, you don’t want your parents together if they ain’t happy. It only destroys the good in ‘em.” Brogan explained, tucking Nancy’s hair behind her ear. “My Ma, she killed my father. She broke his heart, then his spirit. That wasn’t enough though, so she poisoned him. So he couldn’t take us away. Me and my brother.” Brogan’s voice was soft. “This way, your father will be a little sad for a while, but he loves you all and he’ll take care of you. Unless it’s your mom you want to be with, at which point she’ll love you too.”
“I never want to see her again.” Nancy hissed.
“I guess I understand that too.” Brogan whispered, allowing Nancy to lean on her shoulder again.
The sun was hanging low in the sky, Nancy was asleep on the sofa and Jane was up in her room with Mike. Brogan was preparing food for dinner; a pasta dish that people could take from whenever they were hungry rather than something time sensitive that would need everyone together.
She was wiping down the counter when a soft knock came at the door. Curiosity and fear prickled at Brogan. Regular visitors, from Will, Steve and Dustin to Max and Joyce all did away with convention and walked right on in. A knock meant someone new.
Someone unwanted.
“Billy, you’re not welcome here.” Brogan closed the door behind her, hoping the knock had not woken Nancy. “You have to leave.”
“Please.” He begged, his nose wrapped up and his eyes already beginning to blacken. “She wants me to move with her to this place out of town. She’s keeping the kid. It’s mine. I was safe, I swear. I don’t know how this happened. I-“
“Billy, this is not the place where you’ll get help. I am not the sympathetic ear you want.” Brogan caught the headlights of Jim’s car. “You’ve made your bed Billy, you have to lie in it.”
“Everything good?” Jim asked, making his way past Billy to stand beside Brogan. Her warm hand found the small of his back.
“Please Miss Lusk. Mrs Wheeler will take me with her to her motel until the house is ready. She will-“ Billy’s voice broke, Jim fussed at Brogan’s side and she had heard enough.
“-Billy!” Brogan showed the boy her free, blemished hand. “You are a vile boy. You never could take no for an answer, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. Her putting you up in what will most likely be a palace?! Not my idea of hell. Now kindly, get off our land before Chief here drives you-“ she actually saw how happy he looked at the thought of being arrested. “- to Karen. I assume your family have washed their hands of you since discovering you’re situation?!” She could feel Jim’s questioning eyes on her. “Oh, he knocked up ‘Mrs Wheeler’-“
“Mazel Tov.” Jim responded with a fake smile. “Now, as my girlfriend said; get off our land.” Without another word, Jim guided Brogan inside. He detangled from her, to keep an eye on Billy’s movements through the peephole. Brogan paced beside him, twisting her hands together.
“You’re not mad are you? That I said ‘our’ land?” She asked the second he turned away from the door. His arm immediately found its way around her waist to pull her close.
“It is ours Brogan.” He kissed her forehead. “Look, I know where this is heading for me.” He held her at arms length. “I’m all in. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.” He paused to take in the smile that had spread onto her face. “That’s not how I’m proposing by the way. I’ll do it properly-“
“There’s no such thing.” Brogan replied breathlessly. “I’m not a wedding sort of gal.”
“No, you’re not are you?!” He agreed with admiration. “You want a marriage?”
“Damn straight.” She chuckled. “So no, no fancy proposal.” She knew Jim wasn’t ready. He needed to put his demons to bed. That would only happen once the Neil Hargrove ordeal was finished. “Hungry?”
“Famished.” Jim declared, taking in the body on the sofa while Brogan made her way to the kitchen. “Brogan? There’s a Wheeler on our couch-“ | aff3bbb66fde4bdfbdb7dcd6a8242ecc | ['ba1f1388a1af4d33861538cc4cd43bc5'] | “I’m going to get an update from Karen in the am. Nick-“ she paused, “I think it might be a good idea to bring Karen and her boys here. They may become a target.”
“I disagree, but sure. Get some food, get some rest.” He insisted and she began to walk away.
5. Project Blue
Chapter 5
Jess always left the door to her assigned room wedged open. Without any windows and grey walls, it all felt a little claustrophobic, so allowing that little perception of space gave her room to work. It also meant she didn’t have to get up and open the door every time Eric or someone else came with news. Something which was becoming much more regular than she’d like.
She was sat at her desk, part way through annotating a printed document when she heard a familiar knock on the door. She looked up to see Tim leaning against the doorframe, a bottle of tequila in his hand. That apologetic half-smile she remembered all too well. It was a bad idea to engage it whatever he was there for. She should send him away. But she knew she wouldn’t.
“You weren’t at dinner.” He said simply as she placed the papers and pencil down and leaned back in her chair. She watched him taken in the place; the walls, the desk, the neatly made bed with papers piled on top. She knew what he was looking for; evidence that she was taken.
“I don’t- I don’t do dinner in the mess. I have a lot of other work to be doing and ... I really should have come down today, shouldn’t I?”
“Ian was expecting you.” He looked to the floor and smiled, a pink tinge flaring across his cheeks “I was expecting you.”
She looked taken aback by this confession. Jess wasn’t expecting the frost to have thawed quite so quickly. She shook off the negative thoughts and invited him in, moving the papers she’d spread over the bed before gesturing for him to sit.
“As organised as ever.” He muttered playfully as he sat. It was surreal how easily he fitted back in her life. He kicked off his Vans before backing up and resting on the wall with his legs crossed in front of him.
“It’s organised... chaotically.” She replied, grabbing for the last few papers to his right. He grabbed them too, stopping her from moving without snatching the papers.
“What are you working on?” He asked moving his hand to her wrist.
“Don’t ask Tim.” She warned. “I know why you’re here-“
“I don’t know what you’re on about, I came here for sex.” He tried to keep his voice and face unreadable, but a grin spread across his face almost instantly.
“Oh, I wish you were!” Jess sighed sadly. His eyebrow popped up suggestively. “I did not mean like that. Tim, please-“
“This is all my fault.” He finally said it. She pulled her hand away from him and stepped back towards her desk, the papers in her hands. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew she wouldn’t lie and that she held him at least partly responsible. She threw her head back and growled in frustration.
“There was nothing you could have done.” Jess offered.
“But I had all the pieces, I figured it out Jess. I didn’t fight, I just left. I found out about Project IBRIS and I thought I was someone. I spent so long being O’Donnell that my name, Murphy, meant nothing. I thought I had no choice and I walked, knowing everything else you told me was most likely true as well.” He sighed. “You deserved to know that you were right. A long time ago.”
“Did that hurt?” She smiled wickedly at him. “Admitting I was right?” It was the best she was going to get; he’d never tell her he was sorry. All the anger dissipated as quickly as it arrived.
“What are you working on?”
“A few projects.” She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out if she should let him in.
“Trade?” He thrust the bottle of tequila out towards her. “Get us glasses for this while I have a read.”
“That is hardly a trade but go ahead.” She relented and handed him the papers and went in search of something to drink out of. In the end she had to leave him alone and scout out some supplies from the mess. Two well-worn and washed mugs would have to do. She filled hers with some overcooked coffee dregs from the large flask on her way out.
“Are these Owen Grady’s project logs and study findings?” Tim asked, incredulous upon her return.
“Shhhhhhh.” She knocked the door closed and emptied her mug of the coffee. “I went to great lengths to get those. If Nick finds out I went snooping around Lockwood manor, I’d be out of a job.” That was an exaggeration, but Nick would be massively pissed. He’d told her no when she’d asked. Said it was too dangerous, as some of the dinosaurs had staked it as their territory. However, it was too big a treasure to not at least try and retrieve it.
“But -“
“I want to save Blue. I need to be the one to go after her and this tells me how she ticks.”
“I don’t understand Jess. It was the breeding of raptors that made you leave Jurassic World in the first place. Before you knew they were -“
“No, I was concerned that they were starting a weaponising project and that the raptors were their chosen subject. I couldn’t- wouldn’t- help them with that. Owen apparently could and this information might help us get her before Mr Tiny Dick does.” |
cc7faa87759341d2b4fabb0365c50350 | ['ba3a7331df5948c9a41a45cc7e2fe0fa'] | [META] An Introduction to Visual Editing
Cover Art created by fire_juggler.
**Streaming:**
For mobile streaming: **LINK**
**Download** (right-click and save) the **LINK** || Size: 6.5 MB || Duration: 00:06:46
or the **LINK** || Size: 6 MB || Duration: 00:06:46
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**NOTE:** This is not a transcript of the audio file. It's a summary for those who can't listen to the audio and want to start edits right away.
A lot of podficcers have been asking about visual editing, how to do it, and how to make it work for them. **LINK** introduced me to The Snap Method in 2015 when we were recording **LINK** together. The Snap Method is very simple: when you make a mistake, you snap, pause, take a breath, and start again. The goal is that when you look at the waveform, the snap will look different from the rest of the recording.
I hated it.
Either I would forget to snap, the snap would look the same as the rest of the podfic, or the action of snapping would throw me out of the story.
Through trial and error, I discovered that double-tapping a pen against a hard surface works best for me. Tapping twice lets me know that I made a mistake or did multiple takes and keeps me from accidentally editing out something necessary. Tapping against a hard surface - my table, my clipboard, even my phone case, if I need to - will make a loud enough sound for me to distinguish it against the waveform. The picture below shows a snippet of a raw audio file.
Using this method allows me to take a targeted approach when I do first pass edits. Then I can do a listen through, see if I missed anything, and go back to edit for pacing, then add music/effects. I hope this helps you, fellow podficcer! If you have any questions or want to share your editing methods, comment below! | 24e962074fc8410e99cb4c105f08ef59 | ['ba3a7331df5948c9a41a45cc7e2fe0fa'] | [PODFIC] Baiting the Beauty
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
AMAZING COVER ART BY momotastic! You can find their LINK
**Chapter** | **Length** | **Size** | **Click to stream / Save to download**
---|---|---|---
**Chapter 1** | 00:10:51 | 8 MB | LINK
**Chapter 2** | 00:13:46 | 10 MB | LINK
**Chapter 3** | 00:08:06 | 6 MB | LINK
**Chapter 4** | 00:19:56 | 14 MB | LINK
**Chapter 5** | 00:25:06 | 18 MB | LINK
**Chapter 6** | 00:17:01 | 12 MB | LINK
**Chapter 7** | 00:21:42 | 15 MB | LINK
**Chapter 8** | 00:17:03 | 12 MB | LINK
**Chapter 9** | 00:12:06 | 9 MB | LINK
**Chapter 10** | 00:10:40 | 8 MB | LINK
**Chapter 11** | 00:10:20 | 8 MB | LINK
**Chapter 12** | 00:17:55 | 13 MB | LINK
**Chapter 13** | 00:22:59 | 16 MB | LINK
**Chapter 14** | 00:24:53 | 18 MB | LINK
**Chapter 15** | 00:23:05 | 16 MB | LINK
**Chapter 16** | 00:17:56 | 13 MB | LINK
LINK | Size: 130 MB || Length: 04:33:25
**Author's Note:**
> This Podfic Big Bang was the hardest one I've ever completed. BIG thank you to my fandom sister and #1 fan, Itsadrizzit, who listened to my hopes, fears, and audio snippets with an open heart. Thank you to my homies, Kaixo, who let me talk her ear off about all of my mod insecurities with a soft, "Now you know for next year," and Rose Creighton who was the greatest cheerleader of all time. Thank you my co-mod Opalsong. I wouldn't have been able to make this journey without you.
>
> Lastly, thank you to Glamaphonic, fellow black queen, who crafted an amazing narrative for us to treasure. |
54fa08476c734570a81b394ab05308c4 | ['ba661fefb051406ab0d6c6abc126bcd0'] | "This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick. "But, Professor!" he shouted. "We've got to play - the cup Gryffindor -" Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!" Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned me over to her. "Potter, I think you'd better come with me ......"
I saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to us as we set off toward the castle. To my surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't object. "Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley ....." Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being cancelled; others looked worried.
Ron and I followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time. "This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack ... another double attack." My insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and Ron and I entered. .
My eyes zeroed in on the bush of brown hair laying on the hospital bed.
"Hermione!" Ron cried behind me. The air left my lungs and I moved robotically to her side. I look down at her petrified form and collapse in the chair next to her.
"Hermione" I whisper, gently moving some of her hair away from her face. She lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them ...... " She was holding up a small, circular mirror. Ron and I shook our heads, still staring at Hermione. "I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case.
I walk numbly beside her barely registering anything else.
Hermione, the heir got Hermione. I clench my fists in anger. How could this have happened ? How could I have let this happen. Whoever did this is going to pay. The hurt Hermione, nobody hurts her. I close my eyes and try to calm down but all I see is her unmoving form. I run my hands through my hair. Goddammit. She's going to be okay, she has to be. I felt someone's hand on my shoulder and turned to see Ron. He had a look of concern on his face. "I'm fine." I bite out.
He just gives me a look of understanding. "She's going to be okay. The mandrakes will have matured in no time and before you know it she'll be right here telling us to do our homework again." He jokes.
I chuckle, "Yeah you're right. Come on let's go to bed. Maybe tomorrow we can go talk to Hagrid and get an idea of who this heir might be."
He slapped my back. "That's the spirit mate. We've had a tough day, let's get some shut eye."
Though I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get much sleep . | 1f17dd9ed82c450abc44894d4f236ec3 | ['ba661fefb051406ab0d6c6abc126bcd0'] | She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way, which was a far better present than the one that she had brought him, which turned out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry a toothpick and a note telling him to find out whether he'd be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too. Hermione found this appalling and barely suppressed the urge to punch something or someone . Particularly the Dursleys.
The rest of Harry's Christmas presents were far more satisfactory. Hagrid had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge. Ron had given him a book called Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting facts about his favorite Quidditch team, and Hermione had bought him a luxury eagle-feather quill. Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. He read her card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr. Weasley's car (which hadn't been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the bout of rule-breaking he and Ron were planning next. Sally had given him a sweat shirt and cookies .
No one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.
The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed.
Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Harry didn't even care that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks about his new sweater from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours' time.
Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the hall to finalize their plans for the evening.
"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said Hermione matter-of-factly, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoys best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him."
"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry's and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."
Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other. Both impressed and terrified at the same time .
"Hermione, I don't think -"
"That could go seriously wrong -"
But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes had.
"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she said sternly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"
"Oh, all right, all right," said Harry. "But what about you? Whose hair are you ripping out?"
"I've already got mine!" said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showing them the single hair inside it. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode trying to beat me to a pulp because I beat her in the Duelling Club ? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she's gone home for Christmas - so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."
Of course Harry remembered . How could he forget ? He had found them in the Hallway the day after where a magical duel escalated into a physical fight . Hermione didn't fire a single blow or hex just dodged them all with style and grace while occasionally taunting her . Hermione looked like a dancing nymph with the way she fought .
He had his doubts as to how smoothly this would go . There were a million things that could go wrong .
But to Harry's and Ron's utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched the chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe and Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly behind a suit of armor next to the front door.
"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keeled over backward onto the floor.
By far the hardest part was hiding them in the closet across the hall. Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, Harry yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle's forehead and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also stole their shoes, because their own were far too small for Crabbe- and Goyle-size feet. Then, still stunned at what they had just done, they sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. |
eab1dd22b5d147c3b42f90f0df5abeb8 | ['ba678477235d4ce18917b5ac58fa3948'] | He sent the other android memories of the leaders of Jericho mentioning how much they missed Connor when he came up in conversation. Memories of them sharing his accomplishments with whoever would listen. He sent him a singular memory of Lieutenant Anderson, who had found Rupert after the revolution and apologized for chasing him. The Lieutenant had also talked about his efforts to deviate Connor and some of Connor’s struggles with deviancy. Rupert, in turn, had apologized for nearly throwing the Lieutenant off of the roof. Said Lieutenant merely laughed and said that Rupert should take up wrestling.
As the memories faded, Rupert gently disengaged the interface and helped Connor’s physical body slump to the ground. They sat in a collapsed heap of limbs on the roof as Rupert gently moved the gun away from Connor. After a moment, Rupert supported the emotionally drained android with an arm around his waist and they began walking towards the door to the roof access. As they walked, he initiated contact with Markus.
_'Hey Markus, I have Connor here with me and long story short, I’m going to take him to my place to let him recuperate. There’s a gun on top of the building that someone needs to_ come _take care of._ '
_'RUPERT! Thank rA9, we found Connor’s note but we couldn’t find him anywhere. Is he ok?' Rupert could feel Markus’s relief through the connection._
_'He’s worn out, but otherwise unharmed. I’ll talk to him about seeing you when he’s rested up a bit.'_
_'Of course, thank you again! I’ll send someone up to clean up in a moment.'_
_'Thank you.'_
Rupert disconnected from Markus and focused back onto Connor, who was largely unresponsive. He helped the other android down the stairs and hall to his apartment and then his bedroom. He maneuvered Connor on to the bed and placed a blanket over him. Connor stirred slightly when Rupert began to leave the room.
“Stay,” Connor croaked out pleadingly. Rupert paused in the doorway.
“Please,” Connor whispered. Rupert nodded and climbed on top of the blankets, curling around the exhausted android. He ran his fingers through Connor’s now messy hair and hummed quietly until Connor was deep in stasis.
It wasn’t going to be an easy recovery by any means, Rupert mused, but Connor was alive. They Were Alive.
**Author's Note:**
> Hi all! This is the second fic that I'm posting for the first time in actual years. I hope yall liked it! Please let me know if there are any mistakes, I wrote this in like 2 hours and I have no beta readers. I'm working on a slow burn Reed900 fic that I'm super excited about, but I got this idea in my head and I just had to get it out of my system. I feel like Rupert is one of the most underrated characters. I tried to not make it super shippy, but it can be seen that way if you want. It sort of goes along with rare-pair week so here's to that I guess. Anyways, let me know what you think! I thrive off of comments <3 | 75ac7c0ae2b1419b95820b85884ca6c6 | ['ba678477235d4ce18917b5ac58fa3948'] |
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Rupert walked up the steps to the roof access, a pigeon perched on his shoulder. It was a little past six in the evening and the sun was just starting to set. This was about the time he wandered from his apartment in New Jericho and went upstairs to the roof to feed the birds that lived nearby. They would only let him keep a few birds in his actual apartment, which was understandable. He tended to keep the babies, the sick, and the elderly ones in his place.
When he opened the door to the roof, his thirium pump lurched. Someone was standing there already. As his eyes adjusted to the light, his pump sped up in a mock fight-or-flight response. In front of him was Connor, the deviant hunter. Rupert wasn’t quite sure what to make of the other android. On one hand, Connor had chased him and many others relentlessly across the city of Detroit intent on destroying them. On the other hand, he was the turning point in the revolution and now a deviant himself.
Rupert hadn’t had much interaction with Connor since the android had found him at New Jericho and apologized profusely with tears in his eyes. Rupert had forgiven him, knowing himself how difficult it is to break your own programming. That being said, Rupert still had a momentary flash of panic on the rare occasion he saw Connor in New Jericho.
All of this failed to explain why Connor was on the roof of New Jericho and hadn’t reacted to the door opening. Rupert knew Connor had extremely sensitive sensors, being an advanced prototype and all, but Connor remained where he was, staring straight ahead out at the setting sun.
“Connor?” Rupert called out cautiously.
“Please leave, Rupert,” Connor replied quietly.
“What? Why?” Rupert questioned, moving closer to the other android, slowly as a feeling of dread built up inside of him.
“I just need to do this, and you can come back within an hour,” Connor said quietly.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Rupert questioned, slightly frantically.
“Please do not worry, Rupert, and please, please just leave,” Connor’s voice became thicker and more pleading with each word. Rupert took a few more steps in the direction of the other man, trying to get a closer look at his face. As he drew closer, he spied something in Connor’s hands, pointed upwards. He scanned it quickly, and when the results came back, his heart lurched.
“Connor, what the hell are you doing?” He cried, moving quickly towards the other android.
“Please,” Connor cried frantically, his voice raised for the first time during the encounter. “Please don’t come any closer,” he said as he moved the gun in his hands closer to his chin, and Rupert came to a screeching halt. He turned towards Rupert slightly, his body trembling. Rupert’s heart was pounding.
“Connor, don't do this,” Rupert pleaded.
“I have to, it's what I deserve,” Connor whispered, tears streaming down his face.
“What do you mean?” Rupert questioned, “Connor, you saved the revolution.”
“Only after I got thousands of androids killed,” Connor cried, “And before that, I almost killed so many androids. If they hadn’t had gotten away, I would have killed them or Cyberlife would have through me. Daniel died because of me. Shaolin killed himself because of me. I almost killed Kara and Alice, Markus and Simon, Echo and Ripple, and even you Rupert. You know that! If anything you should kill me yourself.”
“Fuck that!” Rupert cried. Connor stared at him in surprise at the outburst.
“Connor, do you know how much you’ve done for New Jericho? So many of our people get the closure and peace of mind they need knowing you are out there solving cases that practically no one will. Do you know how many androids are alive because of you?” Rupert took a few more steps towards Connor, who trembled violently.
“Even if that made up for it, it’s still not safe for others for me to be alive,” Connor whispered.
“What do you mean?” Rupert asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Connor shook his head rapidly and stuck his hand out, skin removed for an interface. Rupert took the hand cautiously and initiated the interface.
He saw himself, as Connor, talking to a woman in an exquisite garden. He felt the warmth Connor felt when she praised him, the crushing feeling of failure when she scolded him. He felt the fear and uncertainty of questioning Amanda after the visit to Kamski. He felt the paralyzing terror and freezing cold when she took control of Connor’s programming. He felt the months after that night on the stage with Markus, barely sleeping, avoiding other androids as much as possible, the loneliness, the panic at every movement not one hundred percent calculated.
When it was was all over, he was left standing in the garden with Connor. The other android stood hunched defensively in the corner of the garden. Rupert walked up to him slowly, before wrapping the other in a tight hug.
“Oh, Connor,” he murmured. Connor sobbed into his shoulder and Rupert sent him as many memories he had of people talking about Connor. They shared stories of him freeing them from the warehouse. Stories of him telling them gently about what happened to their loved one and comforting them in their grief. Stories of him telling them earnestly that he will capture the human who committed a hate crime against them. |
5ec7c3b7661548eea2c3f293f8ccb9cb | ['ba6c667b8bf744049fbb78155522120c'] |
Just 2 words
**Author's Note:**
> [ This is not for minors, this is boyxboy, if you no like it then don't read!
> I wrote this while listening to unravel- dubstep, makes everything more intense~~]
Rin let out a loud groaned as his roommate kept on asking questions, Rin had both earbuds in and was laying on his
back on his bed trying his best to ignore his kouhai.
Nitori clearly didn't understand that Rin wasn't in the best mood and continued asking him personal questions.
Nitori also ignored the fact that Rin had his ear buds in and was listening to really loud English music. After a while of talking with himself Nitori realized that Rin wasn't paying attention and slowly stopped talking, letting his hands rest on his thighs.
After a while, He sighed softly and awkwardly sat near Rin's bed playing around with strands of his hair. Rin on the other hand had realized Nitori had stopped asking him questions and was extremely quiet, which was kinda unpleasant for him.
He slowly took of his ear buds and turned off his music.
Looking at Nitori play with his hair was kind of..cute. He smiled and propped himself up on his elbow facing his kouhai.
"Oi, Nitori" Rin said earning a small surprised squeak from Nitori, who quickly stood up and looked down at Rin.
"Ah, Yes? Rin-Senpai!" His voice squeaked out a bit too high pitched, making him blush furiously.
Rin's eye twitched at his slight high pitched voice and forced a smile at Nitori.
"I can answer anything that you ask just one question though, Only ONE" Rin held up a finger and repeated himself again.
Nitori's face slowly lighted up as he started to think of what to ask. His face slowly turned a dark shade of crimson as he bit his bottom lip.
"Anything? Right Senpai" He anxiously asked the obvious, making Rin roll his eyes.
"I did say anything.." Rin trailed of slightly confused.
Nitori took a shaky breath quietly but quickly replied,"Iwanttoknowifyouwouldfuckmesenpai"
Rin furrowed his eyebrows and trying to understand, but he couldn't hear Nitori so he sits up and motions for him to come closer, making Nitori tremble.
"Repeat yourself slowly, Nitori" Rin say as Nitori comes uncomfortably close.
"Uh," Nitori body shakes as he looks away from his senpai," I wanted to know if you would,uh um, fuck me s-senpai!"
Rin sat there taking in the question before slowly being aware of what Nitori was asking. His own face heating up, and him being unable to answer him.
"Dammit Nitori, couldn't come up with a normal question?" Rin snapped at him but grabbed Nitori's arms pulling him down onto his lap,"but I wouldn't mind answering that one neither" Rin smirked and played with Nitori's fingertips.
Nitori let out a soft shaky breath and blushed as he sat on Rin's lap enabled to keep calm.
Rin left small kisses on Nitori's jawline and down his neck, smiling as the boy below him was letting out quiet gasps.
"R-rin..Senpai..nghh" Nitori let out a muffled moan as Rin sucked on his sweet skin, leaving love bites all over Nitori's neck.
Rin felt himself go hard as he heard a sweet moan escape Nitori's pink soft lips. With that he flipped them over having Nitori laying on his back while Rin straddled his hips.
Nitori's face flushed as Rin quickly disposed of their clothes, and left kisses trailing down the second years neck, slowly capturing one of Nitori's pink nipple into his mouth. He sucked while keeping his eyes on Nitori, and then switched to the other nipple, but this time bit it making Nitori gasp loudly.
He smiled and licked up the small trail of blood that leaked from the small wound Rin's sharp teeth made. Earning a small moan from underneath him. Rin slowly continued to leave kisses down Nitori's body, and smiled when he felt Nitori relax.
"Hmm, Nitori, you're naughty" Rin teased as he saw the dent in Nitori's boxers, making the smaller boy let out a sound of embarrassment. Rin slowly patted at Nitori's hard-on and licked his lips, staring down at his soon to be lover.
"Ahh...s-senpai!" Nitori quietly moaned as he was attacked with kisses, he gasped as Rin ripped of his boxers and lifted his legs up and apart. His whole body flushed as he tried his best to cover his exposed bottom.
"R-rin, thats!" Nitori squeaked out and tried to close his legs, only making his butt look smaller and more vulnerable.
Rin smirked and pushed Nitori's legs all the way near his face and licked one of his fingers, playfully yet seductively.
Earning a painful whimper from Nitori, Rin ignored it as he felt Nitori squirm underneath his grip. After Rin had two of his fingers coated with saliva he slowly rubbed them against Nitori's entrance and pushed the tip of his pointer finger in and slowly turning it.
".ahh..nh.." Nitori let out a painful noise, followed up by a sly moan that left his throat. This made Rin smile and slide in the rest of his finger, also adding the tip of his middle finger.
".mm..ngh..o-oww, senpai!" Nitori whimpered and let out a soft cry, squirming not liking the feeling.
"Shh, relax" Rin replied while rubbing one of Nitori's thighs, and leaving soft kisses on the back of his legs.
Nitori tried to relax into Rin's fingers, after a while as he felt more comfortable he wiggled, giving Rin permission to continue. Rin then roughly pushed in the rest of his middle finger and stated scissoring them, becoming slightly impatient.
At the rough friction , Nitori gave a slight scream but quickly drowned it by covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Cute squeaky moans escaped his lips as his senpai' fingers explored every inch of him.
Rin shoved his fingers deeper and slightly touching Nitori's prostate, causing the smaller boy to squeak out a loud moan. | cfd0586618d84fc2b3bdc2512ef52dc5 | ['ba6c667b8bf744049fbb78155522120c'] | "English? Name?" I said slowly trying to see if just using single words would help the smaller male.
He stared before smiling big,"My nem?, Nitori Aiichirou" He said softly before saying my name again.
I smiled down at him and repeated his name a couple times, letting it settle itself in my memory.
"so, um what are you doing?" I said softly, before slowing down to let him understand.
Before he could answer my question a cool breeze swept through the air, making him shiver uncontrollably.
I stared at him before mentally reminded myself he was naked.
"..clodes" Was all he said before covering himself up blushing.
"Oh..yeah, um well.." I said looking back at the front door, then down at my hoodie. He tilted his head smiling, not understanding what I was saying.
I rolled my eyes and swiftly took of my hoodie handing it out to him adding a soft,"here" so that he knew to take it and put it on.
He giggled and grabbed it turning his back to me before he attempted to put on the hoodie.
My eyes traveled down his pale back and landed on his lower half. I blushed and tried to look away but couldn't. Resisting the urge to wrap my arms around his soft curved waist and grinding my manhood against his firm ass.
I licked my lips before looking down his short but slender legs that seem to twitch every time a breeze went by. I tore my eyes away from him as I realized I was about to get hard, and cleared my throat.
He quickly tried to put on the jacket but failed by sticking both his arms through the "head hole" also trying to add his small head getting stuck after attempting to get out.
He let out a soft whimper basically begging for me to help him.
I forced a nervous smile before grabbing the end of the jacket and harshly pulling it down seeing the back of his head and arms slip through leaving the jacket to fall down by his ankles.
Before I got the chance to move away he bent down leaving me a clear view of his lower body. I blushed and choked on air as he accidentally pressed his butt backwards brushing against my erected manhood.
He wiggled and squirmed until he found were his arms belonged, and fixed the hoodie to fit him correctly.
It was huge on him, going past his thighs and past his fingertips by a good two inches.
He turned and smiled not realizing how turned on I had gotten, I forced a smile but it looked like a pained one.
He tilted his head innocently to the right letting his hair fall to the side, leaving me a full view of his soft looking but slightly clenched jaw and adorable birthmark.
He blushed and made a soft embarrassed notice making me realize I had been staring at him. I smiled and blushed, scratching the back of my head before grabbing his forearm guiding him towards the house.
He didn't seem to mind my movements as he quietly followed, allowing me to guide him.
I stopped once we were in front of the front door and quietly opened it realizing that everyone was huddled up in the kitchen not paying attention the the entrance hall.
I softly walked in holding up a finger to my lips and glancing back at the boy behind me to inform him to keep quiet. He didn't seem to pay attention but still kept quiet, taking small looks around the house.
He was about to say something but I quickly shut him up by covering his pink lips with my hand, making him give me a curious stare.
As I heard footsteps heading towards us, I picked him up bridal style making him squeal in surprise before quietly but quickly running up the stairs and into my room.
"Oh, Rin I have your sandwich...." I heard Rei trail before I slammed the door closed (by accident). I sighed as I heard him jogg up the stairs and knock on my door, which was now locked.
"Yeah?" I asked putting down the shocked male before he giggled and threw himself on the bed, sinking in.
"..I have your sandwich." I heard Rei's soft but concerned voice making me feel a bit more relaxed.
"OKay, just leave it downstairs, i'm changing." I said lying to him but actually looking through some of my clothes to try and find some boxers for the new "guest"
"oh, and we have a guest..." I said softly hearing a muffled "okay, ill tell the others" followed up by a distant sound of footsteps.
After I took out a pair of swimming trunks not able to find small boxers, I turned around and threw them at him. He let out a soft squeak as it hit him in the face and giggled, holding it up before carelessly taking off the hoodie and putting them on.
I looked away and opened the door before throwing one of my shirts at him to cover his chest, which had other birthmarks in different places.
'..cute' I thought before mentally slapping myself, ' I'm so gay..why did I get hard over him..geez' I debated until I felt soft hair brushing against my arm.
I looked down at him and watched him nuzzle my arm before giggling,'Extremely bubbly' I thought but not being able to hold in a smile.
He smiled back and bite his lip waiting for me to head out.
"so, you can't speak english well?" I asked him as I walked down the stairs him trying to keep up.
"...mmh." He let out a sound as to say yes and blushed softly stumbling down the stairs as if he never walked on legs.
I smiled and walked into the dining area making everyone stop and stare at us. |
3180249455da46e7b0e672b60f3d114b | ['ba6f74e9e3d04f7e99e290239372b1dc'] |
1. Chapter 1
"You've got ... candles? Since when do you even ... I don't want to know." It's disorienting and familiar, both at once, being back here. There are rags and bottles of various cleansers lying out on House's kitchen counter, not too far from one of the lit tapers, which is held upright by a wad of aluminum foil scrunched around its base.
"From the emergency kit you insisted I should have. A guy can't be romantic?"
"A guy, sure. _You_ , on the other hand --"
"Calm down, Jimmy. You and Little Jimmy will leave here unmolested. Candles help mask the cleaning fumes. Also, reveling in my newfound non-prisondom. No open flame on D-block."
"How about moving the open flame away from the flammable rags before D-block burns to the ground?"
House makes that stupid hand-puppet sign for _nag nag nag_ , but he picks up the candle in its tinfoil base and limps out of the kitchen. There is, Wilson notices, more dust settled into House's hair than there is on the counter, or the piano. The floor still hasn't been swept, and the place smells of disuse, Windex, and laundry detergent, except of course for the three large boxes of food in Wilson's arms. "Coffee table's cleared off?" he inquires, but he's already heading that direction.
* * *
The hurricane candle adds a bit of lowbrow ambiance to the Styrofoam boxes and tubs on the coffee table. It's ridiculous, bizarre, a prop for a white-trash date night, and it's making Wilson smile.
"Oh my God." House has shut his eyes, leaned back, and he looks like ... like he's in the middle of something a lot more personal than dinner. "Oh my _God_. Where'd you go for this?"
"Witherspoon."
"They do carry-out?"
"They do if you know how to ask. You thought I'd sock you in the jaw and then, what? Head straight for Applebee's? Pass the potatoes."
House is too busy enjoying himself to argue. "This is almost good enough," he says, once he's washed down a bite with the beer Wilson brought. " _Almost_ good enough to make up for you having abandoned me in there."
"Don't make me hit you again."
"Why did you? Abandon me, I mean, not hit me. Sure you were pissed; I get that, but -- "
"You jackass. Yes, I abandoned _you_ , didn't I? Just left you standing there on the sidewalk with your wrist broken, and limped off into the sunset without another word, and then I fled the country and left you, my supposed best friend, not knowing if I was alive or dead. Fuck you."
House, amazingly, has no reply, no joke for that, so Wilson continues. "You didn't call me when you came back. There was never so much as a note from you after you went to prison. You abandoned me, House, and I ... decided to stay abandoned. You ever accuse me of that again and I swear I will break your nose."
"I didn't ... it wasn't ... "
"It wasn't what? Convenient?"
"I didn't have any right. Calling you after I ran from the cops. Making you choose, one more time, whether to rat me out or try to cover for me."
"Also, you didn't want to talk to me."
"I knew if I called you, I wouldn't stop calling. I'd get us all tangled up, and I was trying to ... sort myself out."
"After the first two weeks I was pretty damn sure you were dead. 'Tangled' would have been a relief." He spears another piece of steak, with a much harder jab than the tender meat needs. "So did it work? The sorting out?
"Don't know. Only so many days you can hang out drinking beer and getting sand in your ass-crack before Cabo starts to seem like its own kind of hell. That mean I went sane again?"
"We can hope."
"Wilson." There's that expression he knows, those pleading, hopeful eyes, House trying to say it and not say it, at the same time. A tinge of mischief creeps in and Wilson feels House's leg begin to jiggle, the big bony knee bumping against his own, because House has scooted close enough to do that.
"I know."
House leans across him to reach the remote, pressing into Wilson's side and then staying there while he looks for something other than _Shawshank Redemption_ to watch. Wilson approves, and he's not even sure he wants House off him. There's something comforting about the pressure, and there's been very little closeness in Wilson's life these past ... two years. Two _years_ , if he thinks about it, ever since Sam, and it turned out he hadn't been as close to Sam as he'd thought. If he had been, he could've seen it coming.
"Let's see it, Slugger," House says. Satisfied for now with some softly-narrated wildlife show, he's picking up Wilson's right hand, gently manipulating the finger bones and the metacarpals. "You fracture anything this time, it isn't my fault."
"Your excessively thick skull appears to be made of titanium."
"You're fine, though. Must not have hit me hard enough."
"Won't make that mistake again." He's smiling, whether he meant to be or not. It doesn't even feel all that strange when House gives the hand back and leans further in, his heavy shoulder against Wilson's.
"You lied," House says. He's so close that Wilson can feel the vibration of his voice.
"Everybody does, or so you say. Be more specific?"
"You like me." House's knee is bumping at him again. "You have fun with me, and you like me."
"I wasn't lying at that moment."
"Were so." The jiggling ceases. "I'd tell you to just admit it, but I don't want you launching that beer bottle at my TV." | 1d8ffa9414cb46a6b4622eef9ae7661d | ['ba6f74e9e3d04f7e99e290239372b1dc'] | "Sarah likes him," Wilson says. "She meows for him to pick her up, which she never did for me."
"I can't believe you're so pathetic you're jealous over a cat."
"Oh, like you _weren't_ jealous over the cat."
"Whole different thing. I wanted her out of the way so _I_ could meow at you and get picked up. How long until the Persian vermin re-infests your condo?" This is how he asks, _How long until I'm cleared to land at Chez Wilson_ , because they both know he's the reason the cat's in foster care.
House isn't actually in a hurry. It can take another three months, for all he cares, because if he goes to Wilson's place, which was _their_ place until Wilson said it wasn't, he's going to demand an answer about that and he might not like the one he gets.
"Schroeder called yesterday and said he's working on it. Looks like another couple weeks. Hey, you've seen this MS trial? One little stent in one little vein and ..." He turns his laptop around to face House. "... one of my patients has both. MS and breast cancer. If this works for her --"
"-- it won't have any illicit, torrid affairs with her chemo drugs. Unlike whatever she's on for MS."
"Bingo. Meaning I now need to work on getting yet another permission slip from another bunch of authoritarian jackasses. God, I've been hanging out with you too long."
Mentally, House adds another small win to his scorecard. "That's why you need a beer," he says.
"Good point." Wilson gets up, stretches, and ambles toward the fridge, and House tallies one more point in his favor. Wilson never brings back just one beer.
* * *
House has been fidgety and agitated, even by House standards, ever since they finished their beers and he found the fatal flaw in someone else's diagnosis. Ordinarily that would make him happy for a while. Tonight it just seemed to be the end of his ability to distract himself from whatever the hell else is rattling around in his head. Wilson might try to guess at what that is, if it weren't ten-thirty and he hadn't been up since dawn.
It's a relief when House stops his pacing, his guitar and piano plinking (it is possible, Wilson knows now, to _plink_ angrily), and his random verbal pokes at Wilson, and gimps off toward the bathroom.
Wilson's not aware that he's dozed off sitting on the sofa until the thwack of a cane on the cushion jolts him awake.
"I don't need you here anymore," House says. He's standing there in his worn old pajama pants and a t-shirt so threadbare that its printed design is near illegible now; barefoot, his hair damp from the shower. "I'm not sick and I'm not having nightmares. I'm used to my own bed again. I'm not in any more pain than average; I'm sleeping as well as I ever do. There's no reason."
"You ... okay. I'll head home, then."
"Yeah. That's what I thought."
"You did mean you want me to go?"
"Since when have I failed to tell you to get the hell out when that's what I want?" House turns and disappears into the darkened hall. "All I said was you don't need to stay."
"House ..."
"Take the sofa, take half my bed, go home, you choose. Whatever, but there's no need to baby-sit me."
"You're a moron."
"I mean it."
"So do I. You always assume that everything on earth, now and ever after, is about _you_." Wilson's too tired for this. He's still got his overnight-at-House's kit in the bathroom, so he simply kicks off his shoes and heads for the shower, letting the bathroom vent fan drown out whatever further stupid crap House might say.
* * *
The plan had been: Send Wilson home, stop thinking about _why_ he sent Wilson home, then go directly to sleep, do not pass GO, do not collect $200 or any more of Wilson's opinions.
This is not how it's playing out.
He lies there listening to the bathroom vent, which is the sound of Wilson staying, and awaiting Wilson's next decision regarding where he will sleep. _Which shouldn't be Wilson's decision at all, should it_ , he's thinking; and that's when Wilson reappears, fully dorked out in his boxer shorts and that Gold's Gym tee he stole from House, what? Fifteen years ago?
"Move over," Wilson says. "Or don't, and I'll take the sofa. Whatever, but stop assuming I'm just here because you need _me_."
"You need neediness," House counters. He's scooting over, though. This is still weird and a bad idea, but if Wilson isn't backing down, how can House? That would mean _losing_. "And a different nightshirt. I mopped up a puddle of vomit with that one a week before you stole it from me."
" _My_ vomit, as I recall, and you told me to keep the shirt. I washed it the next morning while you were still passed out. Hot cycle, extra bleach. You know this isn't just about you," Wilson says. "I ... I need the kind of person who's willing to _illegally sedate me_ rather than let me stand at a lectern and shoot my career down in flames. I need someone who isn't afraid to -- to push me when I need pushing. And that is not a hint, and if you shove me onto the floor in the night --"
"You need to sleep in the same bed with that person?"
"Maybe not. Okay, I just, I ... it's nice here."
"It's dangerous here." He tries not to think too hard about what kind of danger he means, because it's not like the mattress is radioactive; it doesn't even have bedbugs.
"It's dangerous everywhere."
"Good night, Wilson."
* * * |
d383836074344e7a8781db81bb329e95 | ['baa3e517a9dd438c8e5113f90bb165e1'] |
You Found Me
**Author's Note:**
> This fic is based on the song "You Found Me" by The Fray. I don't own the song nor the characters and the story is fictional.
> It's my first fic and I would appreciate feedback of any kind. Also it would be great to know if I made the relations to the song understandable.
> Sorry in advance for possible mistakes
> Hope you enjoy :)
Niall found him sitting in front of the little pub at the end of the street. A pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other, Zayn looked up at the blonde guy standing in front of him staring. With a movement of his head he gestured the lad to sit down. Whatever it was that ovecame Niall that night, he didn't know himself, but all the same he settled down next to the hauntingly beautiful stranger.
Between shared beers names, numbers and even the deepest thoughts were exchanged. They were pleased with getting away from all the little troubles life gave them at that time. Separating after hours of talking to someone who seemed to know them, understand them better than anyone who has been right beside them for their whole life, they promised to meet again. Their paths crossed often after that until they basically became one, until you couldn't see Zayn without a lovebite on his neck, marked as Niall's so everyone could see that their hearts belonged to one another.
Never being an unhappy boy, Niall still didn't think that he had actually felt real joy before he saw that glowing smile Zayn carried on his face when he cracked a joke. The scattered books and drawings in the living room, the leftover food Zayn forgot to throw out and the faint smell of cigarettes and his cologne that lingered in the little flat that they now call theirs all screamed _home_ and _Zayn_ to him. It might not be everyone's dream and _hell_ , as far as Niall could remember it wasn't his either but now that he had Zayn it was all he wanted. It was silly, mad even how after just a few months the blonde needed his partner like oxygen, like coffee in the morning to awake him, like painkillers to stop the ache. He was glad that he found who seemed to be his other half, wishing that he never had to find him again, that he would stay right there next to Niall.
Even though so little time passed, he was sure, Zayn knew him inside and out.
Niall thought Zayn could say the same about him however a while later he rarely saw his beloved one anymore. Sometimes he was just away for a day without picking up his phone and then days turned into weeks. Even when Zayn came home, he still seemed like a different person. The glowing in his eyes would appear from time to time but it felt like it wasn't for Niall to cherish. The space between them in the bed Zayn used to make love to him grew bigger, like it wasn't non-existing before. There was no more cuddling, just a few meaningless kisses.
Not a second did Niall believe that Zayn's love for him was gone. _Zayn's always moody; he's just going through a phase,_ is what Niall told himself and all the people who wondered how such a young love was crumbling already, making one of the lovers slowly fall to pieces.
And after all this time Niall was the who needed to be found.
***
It had been 2 months since Niall last heard form Zayn, the longest time apart since they met. The blonde started wondering if maybe it was him. Maybe he was too boring, not attractive enough for Zayn.
He had given up texting and calling his boyfriend long ago. Never had anyone seen Niall so drained out. There were bags beneath his eyes, his bones were sticking out, he was even more pale than usual and the smile that was once so cheerful and constantly on his face was rarely seen anymore. He couldn't get himself to care about anything. The constant disapproving looks of friends and family who keep telling him how he shouldn't have gotten with Zayn in the first place made him shut out the entire world around him. Niall didn't go to work anymore, didn't pick up the phone when someone called. He wasn't living anymore but how could he when everything that brought him joy wasn't there anymore? Sure, the mess was still there and so were the sweaters that still faintly smelt like Zayn, which Niall found himself wearing ever so often, but the most important thing was missing; his love, his reason to be, his moon who could light up his heart in the darkest hours of the night.
There wasn't a day, he didn't wake up to tears rolling down his cheeks, his hands cluthing the sheets.
Niall's ultimate breakdown was about three months after Zayn left. He was sitting on the bathroom floor, sobbing and praying that his love would just come back and bring all the happiness that left with him. There was a blade he never dared to use before lying beside him. He picked it up and dragged it across his wrist so he could see his skin tear, drops of blood dripping on the floor. Another cut and another until he felt dizy.
Niall didn't know for how long he had been lying there when he heard the door open. Strong arms wrapped around him, gently pulling his head into the other person's lap. Both of their tears were mixing. Then he heard the voice he craved so badly whispering into his ear; _I'm so sorry love, it wasn't because of you, it's me. I love you so much. Never do this again._ Niall smiled sadly when he felt Zayn's hand caress his cheek and whispered, _you found me._
Maybe, just maybe Zayn would stay now however Niall knew better than to hope for that because no matter how much Zayn might love him he would never stay.
Zayn was a free spirit, a wanderer even but Niall wanted him, _needed_ him to be a constant in his life.
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you enjoyed!
> Once again I would love some feedback and feel free to tell me about any mistakes I made or if you think that I didn't interpret the song the right way.
> It's really short but I'll write something longer if anyone likes this story :) | f7b916243eb54e63a78b03610da7e6ca | ['baa3e517a9dd438c8e5113f90bb165e1'] |
Love is easy
**Author's Note:**
> I'm actually writing another fic about gangs right now but I somehow lost the inspiration since I'm really bad at writing stories with a plot, I'm more for writing about feelings and less action but anyway I listened to McFly and I got the sudden urge to write a cute little thing about Ziall. I tried to get some things in it that Zayn and Niall actually do like the three poke thing. This honestly isn't one of the best things I wrote but I hope you like it nonetheless.
**_If this is love, then love is easy,_ **
**_it's the easiest thing to do_ **
**_If this is love, then love completes me,_ **
**_'cause it feels like I've been missing you._ **
**_A simple equation with no complication to leave you confused._ **
**_If this is love, it's the easiest thing to do._ **
_
_It had always been _ZaynandNiall, NiallandZayn_ since day one. For Niall shined effortlessly like the sun, making Zayn see things in a diffrent light. In Niall's eyes, Zayn shined too for just a smile of his made Niall overjoyed.
Their relationship was something to be envious of. They trusted each other blindly. They were each other's support and comfort.
Their love was simple in the deepest way possible. It laid in the sneaked kisses, the always entwined finger, the soft giggles, the sweet whispers but then again it was more than that.
You could see it in every little aspect of the two's doings even before any kind of romance was involved. Like how Zayn used to buy the blonde boy lunch everyday back in school and help him with his studies while Niall supported the older one through his geek stage as well as his bad boy phase and showed him how to make high school at least a bit enjoyable.
It was fascinating how they treated each other with such carefulness. Zayn knew Niall was a delicate, frail person despite his strong, outgoing personality. He just _needed_ to protect him from every harm there is in this cruel world. Meanwhile Niall made sure Zayn was never left out even though the black-haired lad liked to keep quiet when other people were around. But Niall was never having any of it. For him things were only half as much fun without his other half, so he was always dragged along and he found himself enjoying it as well.
After all there was nothing that could top the sparks in his beloved one's eyes which appeared whenever something got him excited. Their friends noticed how those sparks were present while he looked at Zayn too but he was oblivious to it until much later on.
Let's not even mention how Zayn would immediately drop his cigarette when the Irish lad approached him and wrap his leather jacket around the younger one's shoulders in the cold mornings after hugging him tightly. It got even more adorable so when the two started to kiss each other after offically getting together in their last year of school.
A memory that would forever remain in their minds and hearts was when Zayn got a tattoo for his boyfriend on their first anniversary. Following his visit at the tattoo palor, he had gone to see the blonde lad. Without saying a word he had just showed his left wrist to Niall who instantly broke out in tears. It was a yin and yang sign for god's sake, the symbol they claimed as theirs in their teenage years. Niall had always found it doodled all over Zayn's notebooks.
It had a deep meaning for both of them because Zayn was yin, the dark side that resembled his seemingly mysterious and quiet personality although he was a real softie on the inside hence the white dot while Niall was yang, the sunshine to his lover's dark.
They complemented each other in a way that appeared sheer impossible. It worked nonetheless.
Throughout the years the two boys changed each other. Even their families noticed that Niall could make Zayn open up to strangers and get involved in a conversation which rarely occured before, whilst the black-haired boy could calm his carefree boyfriend down when needed.
The fact that Niall could get the Pakistani lad to full on laugh so easily was amazing. Zayn would barely get that eye crinkling smile on his face if it wasn't for his boyfriend.
It's not like Zayn was a serious person but his other half was the one to expose to him that it was ok to be silly and goofy and not always earnest.
Also, knowing each other inside and out, they were still fascinated by the features of one another. For example Zayn couldn't get enough of the younger one's chin, he was constantly caressing and admiring it. Furthermore the older lad was crazy about Niall's back, the strong muscles coming from his shoulder blades and the two little dimples at the base of his spine were Zayn's weakness.
Meanwhile Niall was mad about his lover's cheekbones and ridiculously long eyelashes. There didn't pass a day without a compliment for those outstanding characteristics.
Another cute thing between them was the poking. They would poke one another's nipples and bellies which was basically their way of saying 'I love you' when words would just ruin the moment.
Over the years Zayn acquired another habit as well. He would rub Niall's stomach whenever he sensed that the lad was nervous, making him brust into giggles.
They were also indecredibly fond of each other. There was nothing better for Niall than seeing one of Zayn's beautiful artworks. He was always so proud of him and he never failed to make Zayn see how talented he actually is. On the other side, the Bradford native was dripping with fond when he just looked at his lover. He tried to get the beauty of Niall's laugh and just his being on canvas all the time but he could never get it quite right. Not in Niall's eyes though. He was stunned by the drawings of him and how his boyfriend could spot the magnificence within him, he himself failed to see.
Other than people their age, they didn't need alcohol and parties to have a good time. Zayn would cook a nice meal while Niall would set up the table and pick a movie and _voilá_ their night is made. There wasn't anything better than cuddling with your beloved one, talking until the sun rose again. Which leads to another weird thing. The two were around each other 24/7 however they never ran out of things to say. Niall would amuse his boyfriend with the same stories over and over again but neither got bored of it.
In the presence of Niall, Zayn wasn't as quiet as usual either. He was actually quite a bubbly person himself, the only difference being that it took him more to show it.
Pretty often there wasn't any conservation needed. Niall was content with gently combing the older one's hair while Zayn would read a book and later on tell him the funniest or especially beautiful bits.
Not a day went by without little signs of affection. After a long shift at work Zayn would bring his lover flowers or his favourite biscuits while Niall would randomly get him new art supplies or buy him comics or books, he knew the older lad would love.
When there is so much fondness, so much devotion it was rather easy to see the true meaning of love. Even if some have to face horrible things like heartbreak and cheating, once you've found your other half, the yin to your yang, love was utterly beautiful.
Niall made Zayn see that and there wasn't a day he wasn't grateful for having such an amazing person by his side. He could never thank Niall enough for showing him the true meaning of love, for making him the happiest he's ever been, for bringing him out of his shell and most of all for _loving him_ when he couldn't love himself and he would do anything to give Niall those feelings of pure joy as well.
Because love is easy, if you _let_ it be easy. |
c0a05f9e883a438bb94538ddd93d1c05 | ['babd52c9f76b41d488d14e6865511ed1'] | He had almost put aside the letter, if there had not been the next sentence that had captured his attention. There were three things that set the Marquis apart from the other Frenchmen flocking into America. Firstly, he had offered to fight as a volunteer and did not demand any pay for his efforts. Secondly, he had been appointed Major-General by Congress. As to now, this was only an honorary title, but Washington knew and dreaded that Lafayette would expect to be given a command soon. And thirdly, as it had been mentioned in the letter, the Marquis was only nineteen years of age. Nineteen, Washington had thought, he was virtually a boy. Moments like this made him wonder how much alcohol the men responsible for appointing the Generals were consuming on a daily basis, considering they had agreed to give this blue blooded troublemaker the second-highest rank in the army.
Regardless of what had happened that day in Congress, Washington was left with no other option but to make the best out of this new addition to his staff. He had to admit that he was indeed a bit curious to meet the man whose name had been whispered in every corner of the city during the last week. There had to be something extraordinary about him, considering his swift rise to the top.
After he had closed the buttons on his waistcoat, Washington tied his hair to a braid in his neck. He decided not to powder it today. There was not enough time remaining for that anyway. Reluctantly he put on his woolen coat and asked himself for the third time this day, whose idea it had been to provide the Generals with the same uniform jacket for every season of the year. Then again, the army was chronically short of financial means and there were some significantly more pressing matters than the officers’ attire. Washington closed his pot of ink he had left open earlier and then proceeded to leave his room. As he drew the door shut behind himself, he could already hear voices coming from the dining hall downstairs. It seemed that the first guests had arrived. He descended the stairs, smiling at a chambermaid who crossed his way and who appeared to be very intimidated by the broad-shouldered General. Sometimes he wished that people would encounter him with less fear and with more sympathy. _You want to be liked, George_ , he heard Martha’s voice echo in his head and he could not help but smile to himself at this memory. Maybe his wife was right after all.
When he entered the dining hall, Washington felt how every single eye in the room was all of the sudden directed at him. The mumbling of numerous voices that had been audible from upstairs had ceased immediately. The approximately two dozen men in the room, who had been standing together in small groups for conversation, all had turned toward the General in the door-frame. Washington had grown accustomed to being the center of attention ever since he had been appointed commander-in-chief of the Continental forces, but still he did not feel wholly comfortable with it. Thus, he was glad when the awestruck silence caused by his arrival was interrupted by David Smith, the proprietor of the Tavern.
“Your Excellency! It is an honor to have you with us tonight”, he exclaimed, coming toward Washington with open arms. The General bowed his head and accepted the drink Smith was offering him.
“The honor is mine. It is a pleasure to spent the evening in a company as good as yours”, he replied, which earned him an appreciative smile from the Tavern owner. With a sweeping gesture, Smith invited Washington into the group of four men he had been talking to prior to the General’s arrival. Washington nodded at the guests he passed, exchanging some of the usual courtesies. He recognized most of the faces. Congressmen, delegates, businessmen of the city. A young French aristocrat did not seem to be among them yet. Maybe Lafayette was late. Who knew what the customs in France were, regarding punctuality.
After a few minutes of conversation, a bell signaled that the dinner was ready for the guests. Washington took a seat at the head of the table, next to Smith to his right and Congressman Henry Laurens to his left. The food was served and welcomed by various sounds of appreciation. Owing to the relatively small size of the room and the number of men inside it, the air had grown to be almost unbearably hot. Someone had opened a window and surprisingly that had brought at least minor improvements. Nevertheless, Washington could already feel his damp shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. The guests continued with their conversations that had been interrupted earlier and soon the room was filled with the sound of multiple, intertwining voices. Laurens leaned closer to Washington to make sure the General was able to understand him.
“My son will be arriving shortly with the other aides. The Marquis will be accompanying them”, he said and Washington nodded.
“I have already been asking myself as to the whereabouts of our new Major-General”, he replied. Laurens chuckled at this answer.
“You know Hamilton, Sir. He will probably be showing the poor boy every corner of the city before bringing him here.” That seemed plausible to Washington. His young aide-de-camp was most likely already acquainted with the Frenchman and if the Marquis had been able to gain Hamilton’s sympathy, the aide would be thrilled about another man his age joining their circle. | 01f84f44046a4bee8d4ced7767eb83bf | ['babd52c9f76b41d488d14e6865511ed1'] | In order to reach camp he would have to go north, approximately four miles toward the edge of the woods, crossing an open field and afterward another seven miles through the woods. If he walked without resting, he could reach camp in approximately six hours. Under normal circumstances, that was. Adding the time he would lose owing to his injury and the detour he would be forced to make in order to avoid the main road where British soldiers were now likely to pass, he assumed that he would not be able to make it back until the early evening.
Taking a final look back to where the skirmish had taken place and the bodies of his men still lay, Lafayette started walking. He deeply regretted that he could not do anything for them but leaving them behind laying in the dirt, but retrieving their corpses was a matter that could be addressed later. Now he had to focus on himself and the challenge that that lay ahead of him.
The first three miles passed quickly, the ground even and the pain manageable. He was limping slightly because of the soreness in his knee, but he was able to adjust to it. As soon as he had reached the edge of the woods, however, his legs seemed to grow heavier with each step. Allowing himself a break, Lafayette leaned against a tree and took a sip out of his bottle of water. A look at where the sun was standing showed to his surprise that he was making progress not nearly as fast as he had assumed. Either he had not been aware of walking much slower than usually or had unknowingly taken a longer route than necessary.
Anyway, speculations of that kind were of no use at the moment. Lafayette hissed at the pain in his side that multiplied when he pushed himself away from the tree he had been leaning against.
Now the riskiest part of his journey was to come. The field he had to cross provided no protection from the eyes of any person passing on the nearby road. If any redcoats were by chance patrolling there, he was as good as dead. The only option he had was to cross the field as quickly as possible.
Taking a deep breath and hoping that fate would remain on his side, he emerged from the tree line and started to hasten through the knee-high grass. His head as well as his side did not approve of the rapid movements but Lafayette did not have the time to pay the pain any mind. Looking around several times for patches of red appearing in the distance he attempted to further increase the speed with which he was moving.
He felt like he was granted an insight into what being a hunted animal felt like. How ridiculous this whole situation was, he thought; him, a general, all alone in the wilderness, chased by an enemy who’s presence he was not even sure of.
When he reached the edge of the wood on the other side of the field and had neither been pierced by a bullet nor surrounded by British soldiers he felt relief streaming through his tired limbs. Panting harshly he slowed down and leaned forwards, hands resting on his thighs. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt more like standing on a ship on the high sea rather than on steady soil. _One step after another,_ he told himself, _one step after another_. He just had to keep walking. That had never seemed this hard of a task as it did this very moment.
By the time Lafayette was finally able to make out the first row of tents in the distance the sun was already setting on the horizon. Regardless of the pain in his chest and the fact that his legs had nearly given way two times in the past hour, he could swear that the sight of the patches of white in the forest was the most beautiful one he had ever been granted.
A smile on his lips he paused for a moment to take in the view. He had been close to giving in to his exhaustion not long ago but the promise of having to walk only for a few minutes more activated the last bit of energy his body could provide. All of the sudden his legs seemed to grow lighter again and despite the dizziness returning and the black clouds darkening his vision, Lafayette eventually managed to reach the tents.
The first man he encountered looked upon him with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. The soldier quickly stepped aside, when he became aware of himself staring at the Marquis with his mouth gaping open, and bowed slightly.
“Sir”, he greeted Lafayette who offered a nod in return. The further he walked through the rows of tents, the louder the whispers following him grew.
_It_ _it_ _Lafayette. The Marquis is back. Lafayette is alive._
The sound of the men saying his name, joy audible in their voices, seemed to Lafayette’s ears like heavenly music after a whole day of his own ragged breath and the cracking of wood being the only noise he had heard. The smile on his face was tired but genuine nevertheless.
Soon, he approached the massive redbrick house that served as the headquarters of General Washington and his staff. The area around the building was were the officer’s tents were situated. There he encountered Major Tallmadge, Washington’s head of intelligence, who saluted him with a broad grin.
“Good to see you back in one piece, sir”, he said in a slightly joking manner, making Lafayette chuckle.
“Thank you, major, I am indeed glad to be back”, he replied, smiling at the young man. |
9f518c4b539f4270928646d6c5cc3bc0 | ['bae75def47ca452d96ea1234d76018c9'] |
1. Chapter One
It was a normal day at the Avenger's tower and everyone was lazing around. It had been almost a year since the Avengers had defeated Loki and all the Avengers had bonded so greatly that they considered each other family.
Tony and Bruce had been sitting on one of the couches, the other couches and chairs had been occupied by the other, and were discussing their theories as to why Loki tried to take over the world while everyone listened in and commented when they thought it to be appropriate.
"-I mean why else would someone try to take over the world? The only logical reason is that he was power hungry and wanted daddies approval.", Tony stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Tony, as I have told you before, there has to be some other explanation. Nobody tries to take over the world without some kind of logical reason behind it, I mean why would someone try to take over the world because they want to appease their father.", Bruce point out.
"Well-"
"Bruce is correct, my brother did not try to take over Midgard because he wanted power, he did it for other reasons.", Thor said, talking oddly quiet that they almost did not hear him.
"Oh, then why did he?", Tony asked stubbornly.
Thor tensed and took a deep breath before replying," Because he wanted revenge on the human race for kidnapping Thorn and Lokia."
"Thorn and Lokia?", Steve asked quiet and unsure after seeing his friend look pained from just saying the names.
"Thorn Odin Sif Lokidóttir and Lokia Frigga Fandral Thordóttir were their names....they were me and Loki's twin daughters."
"Wait, you and Loki did the dirty? But I thought you two are brothers?"
"Loki is my adopted brother and we did not just make love. We fell in love centuries ago and wed, then Loki became pregnant about fifteen years ago. Everyone celebrated after finding out, and were even more excited when they learn that two heirs were to be born, not just one. I can still remember the day I first laid eyes upon them, Lokia had bright blonde hair and shining blue eyes, when she first laid eyes upon me smile beautifully. And Thorn, who was the eldest of the two, had dark black hair and glowing green eyes. She just stared at me as if she was trying to tell if I was a threat or not and after it seemed as if she deem me worth, she shyly smiled back at me. Everything was perfect!", Thor smiled but then it faded and you could feel anger roll off him.
"Until one night, only days after their birth, they were stolen from their room. No one had known, not until we heard Loki scream from the children's room. When I heard him, I rushed in to find Loki sobbing in front of their overturned cradle. Father had sent everyone to search for our daughters but not even Heimdall knew where they were. Loki and I stayed up for days searching until evidence was finally found, evidence that a human had broke into Asgard and kidnapped our daughters. We still searched even after finding out that information but it was to no use, eventually everyone quiet searching and mourned for them. But Loki did not give up and took to despising humans and became hateful, our marriage soon fell apart after that. We are still married but our love has shattered because a human had stolen our daughters!", Thor was shaking with rage and look as if he was almost in tears.
All the avengers looked at him with sympathy and no one spoke for several minutes.
Tony had broken the silence with four simple words, " I'll find your daughters."
Thor looked at him, "That is impossible."
"Not for me, all I have to do is use my technology to find them, it should be easy if they are on earth. I promise you I will find them, even though I'm not a big fan of their mother.", Tony gave him a sincere look and smiled, he would find them even if he had to travel the whole world by foot to find them.
Thor smiled back," Thank you, man of iron, you have given me new hope in having my family back together again."
2. Chapter Two
It had been a few weeks since the day Tony made the promise to Thor, and he had keep it. Tony had searched every data base in existence and had finally found them!
He had found Lokia first, she was in new York and going to the same school as Spiderman. Her name had been changed Makayla Jean and it seems that she had become best friends with Spiderman and is dating the perverted mercenary, Wade Wilson.
And then there was Thorn, he had a harder time trying to find her but none the less did. She was in Europe going to a wizarding boarding school called Hogwarts, her name having been changed to Destiny Marie. It seems that she just recently become engaged, even though she is only fourteen, to a boy by the name of Draco Malfoy.
After Tony had finally got all the information he needed, he had asked Thor to bring Loki to the tower because he had some news that both of them needed to hear. Thor caught on to what he was saying and had raced to Asgard to get Loki, which had taken a few days seeing as his father had refused to release Loki. But once Thor had told him that he believed Tony had found his granddaughters, Odin had quickly released Loki and gave a warning to both of them. | 353fcb8b99174d0286163b2ab33865f4 | ['bae75def47ca452d96ea1234d76018c9'] | Suddenly a big yell was heard and an angry looking Leah flew in chasing after a hysterical Cathie. The Avengers just stared at them in silence as Destiny and Michelle tried to stop Leah from killing Cathie.
"Don't worry, we're not always this bad, we have some good days.", a voice behind the Avengers said, making them jump. When they turned around they saw Kyra and Aaliyah standing behind them, leaning against the wall.
"How long have you two been there?", Natasha asked, amazed that someone was able to sneak up on her.
"We've been standing here since the introductions started, you just never noticed us. I'm surprised that uncle Fury didn't notice us.", Kyra said nonchalantly.
"How often do you all have a good day?", Bruce asked.
"Hm, let's see. About once or twice a month.", Aaliyah said while looking like she was calculating how long.
All the Avengers just looked at each other and sighed. This is not how they thought they would be spending their day.
7. Chapter Five
Soon after everything had calmed down, the Avengers and the Next Generation Heros departed from the Helicarrier. When they got to the Avengers Tower, Tony decide that all the kids were going to share one floor to keep them together, no matter how bad that idea was.
"So wait, your letting all of us stay on one floor, alone, with no supervision?", Daisy ask while raising an eyebrow.
"Well no, I wouldn't say no supervision, JARVIS will be keeping a close eye on all of you.", Tony informed.
"That's what you use to tell us when we were younger but we always found a way to make it past your defences. That's why uncle Clint started watching us instead of JARVIS.", Heather said while sitting on a counter on the very floor they were to stay in.
"What do you mea-", Steve started to say before getting cut off by Kyra.
"I call the vents."
"Oh! I call the room with the best view!"
"Dibs on the biggest room."
"Hey! I want the biggest room!"
"You only want the biggest room because your larger then the rest of us."
"Is that a fat joke!?"
"Calm down ladies, I will take the biggest room to solve this argument."
"LIKE HELL YOU WILL!"
"Shut up people and just pick a random room. And if you are in a disagreement then you shall simply share the room."
The arguments continued as they split of to find the room they want, leaving the Avengers to be forgotten where they stand.
"All of them are such great listeners.",Clint said while rolling his eyes.
"You can say that again.", Tony stated while they all the Avengers climbed into the elevator and left the floor they were currently on.
As the day went on the time travellers eventually figured out the sleeping arrangement. When night fell all of them piled into the sitting room, that their floor happened to have, to chat and have a little fun before they went to bed.
"Okay, so what do you guys want to watch?", Destiny asked as she plopped down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in her hands.
"We should watch anime!!!", Kayelin said while she bounced up and down in her seat.
"Sorry Kayelin, but no. Not everyone here likes anime.", Destiny said while putting a foot in Makayla's face to keep her from getting any of the popcorn.
"How about Harry potter?", Michelle asked while getting some of the popcorn.
"Eh! She get popcorn and I don't?!", Makayla whined.
"Yes, now shush little sister! And yes, Michelle, Harry Potter sounds like a great choice! Any objections? None? Okay then Harry potter it is!"
Twenty minutes into the movie some of heroes stared to get hungry, especially Summer.
"I'm going to get some food.", Summer said while walking into the kitchen.
"I'll go with you!", Makayla said standing up and walking to the kitchen after her.
"I'm coming too!", Paige said as she ran into the kitchen and almost tore the door down as she did so.
"Do you think it's a good idea to let them go in there without supervision?", Leah asked Destiny as she looked at the door then her.
"They will be fine.... I hope.", Destiny said while looking at the door that leads to the kitchen. Ten minutes later a huge boom came from the kitchen. Destiny got up and rushed into the kitchen, most of the others following her. When they got there they saw that the wall were covered in some kind of food, the microwave was blown to pieces, and the girl were covered in food just like the walls.
"What did you three do!?", Destiny said while looking around the messy room in amazement.
"We were heating up a bunch of poptarts when those two decided to start ruff housing. They started using powers and Paige hit Makayla in the face with one of her webs making Makayla loose control of her of her lightning and hit the microwave, making it explode!", Summer said while growling at Paige and Makayla for making her food explode.
Makayla and Paige sheepishly laughing, " whoops?"
"Would you like me to clean up this mess Ms.Odinson?", JARVIS asked Destiny.
Destiny just shook her head no and said," No thank you JARVIS, the girls will clean it up themselves. And JARVIS?"
" Yes Ms. Odinson."
"Please call me Destiny not Ms. Odinson."
" Yes Ms. Destiny."
"Well I guess that's good enough. Now, you three, clean this mess up."
"B-but!....fine...."
"Okay now let us finish the movie!", Destiny said as she pushed everyone who wasn't on clean up duty to the sitting room.
When they got into the sitting room they found Cathie spread out in the middle of the floor, naked and dead asleep.
"Okay, I think that means bed time for everyone!", Destiny said while turning around and facing the group. |
4f5d5fbe63e44d769d60374115bd71ab | ['bae9dfe39b3c4eef820a6acbbb03a8ce'] |
1. Chapter 1
Gwen felt the cold surface of the bed next to her and remembered the emptiness in her home, it was the first night alone without her kids. She just need someone. Anyone.
~Meanwhile~
Blake was staying with Adam and his wife Behati. He felt selfish staying with them for more then a week no less a few months.
He got up and put on a button up shirt with some jeans and baseball cap. He walked down stairs to see Adam in a white shirt and some torn skinny jeans, eating cereal. He came up to him and grabbed a bowl, milk, spoon, and cereal. He took the seat next to him and put in the cereal and milk.
"How are you?" Adam aske being the person Blake would cry on when feeling down about Miranda.
"Good, and excited to get back to the show."
"Well I'll wait for you to be finished"
He was excited for more then one reason but the main one reason but his main one was to escape the feeling of depression and to be distracted.
Blake got there a little late on account that Adam was taking for ever. He was excited to get to work with up in coming artist and was mostly excited for the banter between coaches. Him and Gwen hadn't talk in a while but they became very close when the talked through email about the divorces the were going through. He had gained feelings for her and he hoped she had to.
He got there and saw something that broke his heart. Gwen was sitting at a table with some guy he hasn't seen before. She was smiling. He was handsome he had dark brown hair and grayish eyes. He looked like he was in his early 40s.
When he saw him make her laugh that's when he got the most jealous because he was the only one able to make her laugh these days besides her kids and maybe Adam sometimes when he picked on Blake.
Blake went and sat on the couch on the opposite from where they were sitting. Just staring at them watching his every move with a slight frown on his face. He then realized where he was when the touch of Adams hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry" he said noticing what Blake was starring at."What are you talking about" Blake said reluctantly looking away from the two.
"Gwen. I know you had a thing going on with her."
"Gwen and I are just friends nothing else"
"Then why are you glaring at her new boyfriend." Blake was terrified at the thought of the women he liked very much with a new boyfriend that wasn't him.
"I'm fine." He stood up and walked past the two trying not to get noticed by Gwen. He went to hair and make up.
When he got their he saw Gwen walking towards the hair and makeup with the guy he still didn't know.
When she reached Blake she kissed his cheek in a way as saying good bye. She sat down.
"Who is he?"Blake said sternly but hiding his emotion." His name is "Dylan he is my new...well we haven't said what we are yet."
"Okay well...I sort of have to go." She was shocked that he didn't say anything about it or was curious because he was always asking her questions and making her laugh.
That whole time it was awkward and they only returned to normal when there was cameras on them. She was worried about Blake and texted Adam.
2. Chapter 2
-To Adam-
Do you know what was going on with Blake today he totally ditched me?
-To Gwen-
Um I don't think he likes Dylan that's all.
-To Adam-
He doesn't even know him how can he not like him?
-To Gwen-
He is very protective over you. And he sort of has feelings for you.
The text gets me caught off guard, he has feelings for me like he likes me. But then why was he being such a jerk and ignoring me. I can't believe he didn't just talk to me.
I end the conversation with Adam and head to bed to think. I don't know if I like Blake that way he is my best friend these days and I don't want to be without him so I just have to tell him that.
She tried calling him and when he didn't answer she got worried about him and called one more time. He probably just didn't want to talk to her, the thought made her sad.
~Blake's POV~
Blake ignored her calls because he didn't want to say things he shouldn't and ruin her relationship that made her happy.
He was dreading the fact that he was having to see them in the morning for blinds.
He fell asleep think about why Gwen wouldn't even think of Blake like that.
When he woke up he was dreading today unlike the day before. He got up threw on a shirt and jeans and got ready as quickly as possible, even driving himself today.
He went to hair and make up early so he could just stay in his trailer to miss out on seeing Gwen.
Like his luck Gwen was their earlier then normal. He sat down with a shy hello.
"Blake can I talk to you when your done."
"Yeah, You'll have to make it quick, I have a interview with ET after this."
Hair and make up went by fast for them. He tried to get out without Gwen noticing but ended up being pulled by the hand and Gwen pulled him to a corner of the room.
"What's wrong with you Blake," she said with a concerned look on her face "you had me worried when you ignored my calls and-" he interjected without letting her finish.
"You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine being by myself it's not like your my mom or girlfriend."
"Maybe not but I care about you, you are my best friend and just because your mad I'm dating someone doesn't mean you have to ignore me."
"You know what I like you and I thought we had something but I thought wrong so it would be best if we only talk for cameras." She had a sad expression on her face and felt here eyes well up with tears as she slowly walked away.
He felt like the biggest jerk in the world seeing himself kick his friend and person he liked out of his life, he just stared at the ground on his way to his trailer. | d0c0df1949114d1eb3bd90afb74d0874 | ['bae9dfe39b3c4eef820a6acbbb03a8ce'] | 1. Nervousness
Gwen was snuggled into my side before our alarm clock went off telling us we need to get ready for work in five minutes. I was excited and nervous about today knowing this will be the first day of the Voice taping. This was going to be the best season ever I have Gwen back as a coach Luke as my mentor what could go wrong?
I kissed her cheeks over and over until she finally opened her eyes smiling up at me.
"Hey, are you excited for The Voice today?" I said knowing the answer but asking anyway. I knew Gwen loved working at The Voice. She loved helping people and was very caring one of the many reasons I love her so much.
When Gwen finally gets up she takes about an hour to get ready so I tell her I'll meet her there.
I get there seeing Alicia with her son and Adam there with his daughter Dusty. Adam might annoy me sometimes but he's my 2nd best friend (behind Gwen of course) and one hell of a father. I always wondered what the feeling of having a little baby in my arms, obviously I love Gwen's kids and they feel like my own, but I missed the baby stage the one that shapes them.
When Gwen gets here I still can't shake the thoughts and nervousness about how Gwen would feel about me thinking about this.
"I missed you Blakey" she says pulling me into a hug. "I missed you to darling" which causes Adam to make a gagging sound making everyone laugh including Dusty.
We go through a lot of auditions when they finally call for lunch. I start thinking back to the feeling of having a baby with my dimples, Gwen's nose and eyes, maybe my curls. I realize I'm day dreaming when Gwen nudges me.
"You have something on your mind Blake?" Gwen says sweetly to me. Should I tell her I think to myself. I don't even know if she wants another kid or if she thinks I'm father material because Miranda always said that I wouldn't make it as a father. I'm burrowing into a hole when I realized I didn't answer her question.
"I'm fine" I give her a reassuring smile and I know I'm lying but I'm scared she'll be mad.
I decide to wait to talk to her until we get home because this is not the place to have an important discussion. So I wait the longest I ever had to wait.
2. Confessions
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> How will Gwen react to Blake wanting a baby?
On the way home from trappings I thought he would be more talkitive but something has been on his mind all day and it is worrying me. It makes me worry if he is hiding something from me. I love him so much that the thought scares me. In my last relationship that's all Gavin did and I don't want that to happen in this relationship I love him to much.
I feel the need to comfort him on whatever he has going on so on the way home I just grab his hand and let the silence roll over us. If it was something serious he would tell me, right? The insecurities start to take.I start to think if Blake is hiding something that he feels he can't talk to me about. I my past relationships communication is a huge factor of why we broke up so it makes me a little nervous.
When we are about half way home he starts to speak up again.
"How about we grab a bottle of wine to celebrate" he says I calm down and nod with a slight smile on my face. I feel my insecurities slowly melt away.
When we get home I grab two flutes of wine and hand one to Blake. We sit on the couch and talk about everything you could think of.
I could tell he has something to say when he starts to get distracted. I finish the story I was telling him to give him a chance to speak.
"Gwen, I have to tell you something," I feel my head go back to my thoughts from earlier. Is he breaking up with me, I should let him finish before I go crazy."Yeah?" I respond. He is quiet for a second then he takes a deep breath. " I love you so much that the thought of losing you hurts me, but I want to have a child with you."
I'm shocked then I feel my heart fill with love and I lean over and kiss him. A few seconds later I pull back.
"I thought you were going to break up with me." I say feeling a huge relief fall off my shoulders as he holds me close to my chest. He whispers how he could never leave me and that he loves me to much.
"What if I'm to old to have a baby?" I feel my heart shake at the thought of not giving Blake the baby he has always wanted.
"We could get a suraget, adoption there are multiple ways to get a baby" he's so good with Apollo, Kingston, and Zuma I know he is gonna be a wonderful father.
What are the kids going to think they have to be ok with it for it to happen. I wonder if they even want another little sibling. |
cdbc97928b774f568f58649ed4319119 | ['bb264ebc2b914bb8928ed944a69f019e'] | “Will, we’re going to be fine,” Dr. Lecter comforted, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Mason will not reduce us to animals.”
Will shook his head and pulled away from the doctor. “No, we’re not going to be okay. He’s not going to let us go, and clearly he has no intention to give us the basic necessities of life.”
Dr. Lecter seemed unfazed. “We’re going to get out of here. And we do have water,” he mentioned, beckoning to a small pipe dripping onto the concrete at the back of the room.
“We’re supposed to survive on water alone?” Will scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
Dr. Lecter stood in the center of the cellar, watching Will pace around him. “Jack knows we are here.”
Will shook his head, knocking his fist against the cement wall. “So? He knew we wouldn’t find any evidence here; he’s not going to bother checking in on us.”
“He may call you if no other leads appear. And, since Mason took our phones, Jack will likely get sent to voicemail. Then he will try my phone, knowing we came here together. He will not reach me either, so he will know that something is wrong,” Dr. Lecter explained calmly.
Will sighed, turning to face the psychiatrist. “What if he doesn’t call? That seems more likely in my opinion.”
Dr. Lecter’s head tilted slightly to the right. “Then when neither of us shows up to work on Monday, he will send officers here.”
“Okay but it’s only Friday, what are we supposed to do all weekend?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.
The doctor remained unperturbed. “We will wait.”
Will shook his head again, retreating to the back corner of the room. “I’m supposed to spend three days without food alone with a cannibal?”
Dr. Lecter smiled, baring his teeth slightly. “Is that what has you so troubled?”
“Well in all fairness, we’re going to get hungry and you just so happen to eat people,” Will remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.
The psychiatrist stepped closer to Will. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve eaten people too.”
Will glared at the man, ignoring the nauseating feeling in his stomach as he stepped back to keep his distance. “No, that definitely is not a consolation, and I have no idea why the hell you thought it would be.”
“Do you think I plan on eating you?” Dr. Lecter asked, continuing to walk forward.
Will leaned against the cement wall and arched his back. “I think that you find the idea arousing,” he stated. “And I think that no matter what we become, you take pleasure in the fact that you will be the cause of my demise when the time comes.”
Dr. Lecter, though maintaining a neutral expression, almost looked proud. “If you think you know me so well, then you should have nothing to fear.”
Will narrowed his eyes, the cold wall behind him sending chills down his spine. “Why?”
Dr. Lecter leaned in close for a moment, making Will’s heart still, before pulling back and walking around to lean against the wall beside Will. “Because you would know that I care about you enough to give you a more beautiful end than this damp cellar,” he explained, turning his head to look at his patient.
Will bit his lip. “You’ll be hungry all weekend. Who knows what you’ll do?”
“I know,” Dr. Lecter assured. “I have more self-control than most. Humans can survive three weeks without food, and we have water here. We will be fine for three short days.”
Will sighed and slid his back down the wall until he was sitting on the concrete floor. “What if Jack doesn’t notice we’re gone on Monday?”
“He will,” the psychiatrist replied simply. The man took off his suit jacket and laid it out on the ground before sitting down on it.
Will rolled his eyes. “How do you know?”
Dr. Lecter turned to look at him. Will forced himself to meet the man’s gaze, and he was surprised when the amber eyes looked completely confident and comforting.
“Did you honestly think I would put you in a dangerous position with Mason without a backup plan?” Dr. Lecter asked. “I assure you, Jack will most definitely be looking for you by Monday, if not earlier.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
Dr. Lecter gave a nearly imperceptible smirk. “I have a feeling that the Chesapeake Ripper may have struck again shortly before we drove to the Verger Mansion. Jack will, as always, want you to consult and examine the crime scene. Which, I assume, will be discovered by tomorrow night.”
Will stiffened, but didn’t outwardly express his displeasure. “Did you take someone’s life this morning?”
“Hardly,” Dr. Lecter scoffed. “What that man had was a poor excuse for a life. At least this way he could be of some use.”
Will sighed, not wanting to hurt his chances of surviving the weekend by arguing with the man. “Well, will you keep your mouth away from me until Jack gets us out of here? I know you keep your word, and I’d rather not spend the entire weekend paranoid that I’ll be your next dinner.” Will closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
“I will make no promises,” Dr. Lecter replied.
Will opened his eyes and shot a sideways glare at the psychiatrist, frowning. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Dr. Lecter raised an eyebrow innocently. He reached one hand over and held the back of Will’s neck, turning the man’s head to face him.
Will’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the doctor drag his teeth over Will’s jawline, continuing upwards before resting at his ear.
“All I’m saying,” Dr. Lecter whispered, “is that three days is a long time. It would be a shame not to take advantage of it.” | dea33a52114f4fd88f27fa2e29a1348e | ['bb264ebc2b914bb8928ed944a69f019e'] |
1. Chapter 1
“You want me to do _what_?” Will asked, his voice on the border of anger and irritation as he paced around Jack Crawford’s office.
“I told you already,” Jack replied in a monotonous voice. “We need you to help take care of a little girl for a while. Now if you’d settle down and stop complaining, I’d be happy to further explain.”
Will took a deep breath before sitting down in one of the large chairs facing the desk. He looked at Jack’s chin, silently urging him to continue while also avoiding eye contact.
“A two year old girl was found at a crime scene where both the parents had been expertly murdered. We ran an ID check and we can’t find any living relatives of the girl, so I need you to look after her until we find the killer that did this,” Jack stated.
Will squinted and adjusted his glasses. “Why can’t you just put her in a foster home or something?”
“We did,” Jack explained. “We placed her into a home for children, and we are led to believe the same killer came back to take her. The staff reported that someone broke in and was trying to steal the girl. When they attempted to stop him, he fought back viciously. He showed no interest for any of the other children and none of them were harmed. Three staff members, however, were rushed to the ER because of near-fatal wounds that the intruder inflicted on them.”
Will shifted in his seat and unconsciously tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Still, why do I have to take her?”
Jack leaned forward on his desk. “She needs a safe place to stay where we can keep an eye on her,” he said.
“Yes I understand that, but why _me_?”
Jack sighed. “Who do you think would have been a better choice?”
Will met his gaze for a moment before darting away again. “I don’t know, anyone else in the world? You, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, Dr. Lecter, whoever’s on the police force?”
Jack was quick to shoot down Will’s suggestions. “I have to be here and on the field all day, every day. Alana used to be the murdered husband’s psychiatrist many years back so she’s helping out on the case, and if this goes to court then we can’t have her opinion be biased because of any attachments she’s grown to the child. Katz, Price, and Zeller all have to be here doing their job, and they can’t take the girl to work with them, especially not in forensics. I can’t send her to someone on the force because I want her to be with someone close to me, someone I can trust. And Dr. Lecter, well, we’ve already worked out that he’ll be helping you.”
“What?!” Will asked, looking up.
“Dr. Lecter works most of the day as well, so he can’t take care of her full-time. He can’t take her to work either because he could have violent patients. However when he is not working, I expect him to be with you, helping to care for the little girl,” Jack explained.
“Why?” Will wasn’t necessarily opposed to having help, but he wasn’t sure why Jack didn’t trust him to be alone with one small child.
“I assumed you could use an extra hand,” Jack said simply. “And having Dr. Lecter there to keep you mentally stable is an added comfort.”
Will probed his mind for an acceptable excuse to get out of this. “What if I lose time or I forget to feed her or change her or something? What if I hurt her?” He asked.
“Again, that’s why Dr. Lecter will be with you whenever possible. Plus, we’ve all seen how well you take care of your dogs, so I know you can do this,” Jack insisted.
Will sighed in disappointment. “Fine,” he muttered quietly.
“Good,” Jack smiled. “Tomorrow is Sunday, so Dr. Lecter can be with you all day. He will help to get things under control so you will be ready on your own for Monday.”
Will nodded, removing his glassing and rubbing at his eyes. He realized he needed to get some sleep; tomorrow’s going to be rough.
oOo
Hannibal eyed the child suspiciously as Jack brought it over. It smelled of cheap diapers, but he forced a smile on his face as it was handed to him. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to hold it, but he managed to sit it on his left arm while his right hand held onto its back to keep it from falling.
“The name on her birth certificate says Talia Noelle Miller and she just turned two a couple weeks ago,” Jack stated.
Hannibal looked at the little girl. She had fair skin, aqua blue eyes and thin blonde hair that was slightly wavy and hung down to the center of her back. She wore a plain pink dress and didn’t have any shoes.
“Well hello Talia,” he said quietly as he smiled at her.
She started to smile back, and then she shoved two fingers in her mouth and turned to rest her head on his shoulder. Hannibal couldn’t help but grimace when she removed her fingers and placed the same sticky hand on his expensive suit. Jack laughed, but Hannibal didn’t see what was so amusing.
“She hasn’t talked very much since we found her, but I suppose two year olds don’t generally say a lot to begin with. She might open up once she gets used to you,” Jack mentioned. “We also gathered up most of her clothes and toys from the house, I can help you load some of it into your car. And here,” he handed a piece of paper to Hannibal, “is a list of her allergies, naptimes, and preferred meals. Luckily, the parents had left this note for their babysitter on the fridge.” |
266899696ee24dc6910af42342fa9508 | ['bb2ec5b785564ea4942110440ea4aa12'] | 9. The abuse runs deep
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> They’re ready to go, Will has another nightmare and refuses to talk, Audrey has to break him down and get him to talk, meanwhile Hama learns what Miriam said to Audrey. (I based Will’s broken childhood a lot on BJ Blazkowicz’s childhood from Wolfenstein) | e9a16e3d59784dd8bcd68474ee0be5d8 | ['bb2ec5b785564ea4942110440ea4aa12'] | Audrey then noticed that most of his scars had reopened. “You’re bleeding.” She then got a rag and some alcohol and said “let me clean you up.” She then held Wil’s face and said “this is gonna burn like hell.” “I’ve been through worse.” She then put the rag to his scars, he was now in a burning pain, but didn’t kick or scream, he sat there with his eyes watering very heavily. “Damn this burns” Wil quietly said. “I know but I don’t want these to get infected, and I’m sure you don’t either.” “You’re always nursing me” Wil said with a pained laugh. “Well someone’s gotta do it.” As she was cleaning his wounds, she was humming, a song Wil knew well. He didn’t even bother asking what she was humming, he had a feeling that she knew that he knew the song.
“You’re so quick to help me, why?” “I’m trying to make up for all the wrong things I’ve done, plus I care about you.” “Same to you.” “Okay, I’m done.” “Thank God.” “Jeez, your eyes are really watery, you alright?” “It still burns.” “I’m still wondering about something.” “What?” “Why’d you kiss me in Wulfburg, and of all places the bathroom?” Audrey was now blushing, she’d forgotten all about that. “I don’t know, why did you not like it?” “I did but... why.” “I don’t really know... it was just a strange thing I... don’t really know why I did it.” They both then laughed about their time in Wulfburg. “I think we should go back there some day, Miriam and Hama loved my joke.” “Maybe, it’d be kind of an empty place without Boris though.” “At least Yuri lived.” “True, I say after all this, we go back to Wulfburg, I gotta tell Ebohare about this.” Audrey then kissed him on the cheek. “What was that?” “Just a strange thing.” They both laughed and told each other goodnight. Wil then chuckled and said “just a strange thing.”
43. Captured
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> (I want to say that They Might Be Giants is actually my favorite band so they’re Wil’s favorite as well. I wanted to do some separate stories, like Wil’s POV and Audrey’s POV. Wil is gonna be in captivity for a little, but he does escape). Wil decides that that there isn’t much romance between him and Phoebe so they break up. Wil is captured by dawnsmen in the night.
The morning was calm. The sun shining not too bright, the weather was just perfect. Wil and Phoebe were talking when decided to say it “look... I don’t think this... can go on, I mean there’s nothing going on, we haven’t really done anything.” Phoebe completely understood but instead of saying it, she said “swear to me... that this won’t change anything.” “I swear.” “...Okay.” Wil and Phoebe then continued talking as if nothing happened. Of course they both knew what happened, but nothing changed.
Hama began speaking to Audrey. “You and Wil seem really close.” “Yeah, So?” “Why is that?” “After I killed the Dream King, I ended up here, and he taught me what it means to be a hero.” “I’m glad that you survived.” “Thanks.” Wil then decided to just aimlessly wander. He put his headphones on and listened to They Might Be Giants.
He listened to Till My Head Falls Off, his favorite song by the band. Wil then saw a lone steppe wolf, sitting on a large flat rock coming out of a hill. He and the wolf were staring directly into each other’s eyes. Wil had an emotionless look on his face. They just stared at each other, waiting for one to make a move. The wolf then approached Wil, but Wil didn’t move, he stood there not caring about what might happen. The wolf sat in front of him and just looked him. The wolf then lowered his head, possibly out of respect. Wil didn’t move. The wolf looked up at and just walked away.
Wil walked pretty far. He eventually reached a small town that, surprisingly wasn’t abandoned. He walked into the town, and a man approached him. “You are a crusader, yes?” “Yeah.” “My grandfather was one.” Wil then said “you guys shouldn’t be here, there’s danger all over this land.” The man then said “well where should we go?” “I’d go east, the Eagles Kingdom takes refugees.” The man surprisingly listened and believed Wil, he also knew where the kingdom was. The man then yelled “everyone we are in danger, there’s evil all over as this crusader has told, we must head to the Eagles Kingdom.” Everyone then began packing their things and grabbing there weapons. Wil then gave the man a map and drew the safest path to the kingdom on there. The man thanked Wil and led the people towards the kingdom.
Wil had a strange feeling. Not many people would’ve actually believed until it was too late. Wil then walked back into the woods without a care in the world. He then saw three steppe wolves near him. The wolves just watched him. He just walked away not caring. After about an hour, he came across a group of people who looked to be travelers. Wil then asked “hey where you heading?” “Right here.” The man then punched Wil in the face. Wil fell and the men began going through his things. Wil was about to reach for his Python when one of the men picked it and said “hey boss, look here.” “Damn, this is a fine piece.” |
c3cb70bbdaa54447baff5a9c3dd4b0e6 | ['bb4b7128017e4440aae38beac1af9121'] | At that point, all three boys groaned, pausing the game and collecting trash while moaning “get a room, ya fucks and not mine” (Niall) and “try not to eat each other, horny bastards” (Zayno which caused him and Niall to fall into a heated conversation of 'but if they ate each other would they still be there?) and “Jesus, couldn’t you at least wait till the end of that round?” (Liam), but they were all fond and let the happy couple be, parting their separate ways.
Louis smiled into Harry’s mouth, laying down on the long couch and pulling Harry on top of him as close as possible, so not even a sheet of paper could be slid between their bodies.
-
Later that night, Harry collapsed on top of Louis, sweat mingling between their naked chests after three intense rounds. He kissed Louis on the lips gently, neither boy moving until they had nearly fallen asleep.
"Hey Lou?"
"Yes pumpkin?"
"I love you," Harry whispered, lips barely brushing Louis' own.
Louis pushed Harry back an inch so he could look into his eyes.
"I love you too, Hazza, so much."
Harry smiled, dimple appearing and eyes lighting up.
"Hey Lou?" he giggled. Louis poked the mini crater on the side of his face, smiling back just as wide.
"Yes, love, what is it?" He laughed, amazed at how after all this time Harry still managed to reach a whole new level of charming.
"Yes. Even if you didn't mean to ask, that's still my answer and it always will be. Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life and all the lives after that with you." He whispered his confession, like it was a secret that would stay between them in this moment; the dim light of the lamp casting a glow over the room, the white sheets rumpled at their waists, the way Harry's body loomed over him, reminding him that no matter what happened, he knew he would always have this; always have Harry.
He grinned, surging up to kiss Harry with as much emotion as he could possibly relay into it.
"That's good to know, glad the feeling is mutual because you couldn't get rid of me if you tried, Mr. Styles."
Harry'a grin widened, making it difficult to speak.
"That's Mr. Soon-to-be-Tomlinson to you, I think."
Louis' eyes gleamed. "What if I want to be a Styles?"
"Hmm, guess we could compromise, that's the point of marriage innit? Could be the Tomlinson-Styleses, I reckon."
"Tomlinson-Styleses, hm? Sounds pretty amazing to me. Our kids will have the coolest last name on the block."
"They'll also have the coolest dads."
"Well, one cool dad at least, and one embarrassing one."
Harry squawked, pinching Louis' nipple in retaliation. "Excuse you, I'll be the coolest dad in town."
"Of course you will babe, and I'll be the luckiest guy in the world to get to raise kids with you."
"Looouuuu, stop you're making me blush," Harry's voice came muffled from where he had buried it into Louis' chest.
Louis flipped them around, exposing Harry's gorgeous flushed face.
"Love making you blush though, you're so beautiful, fuck m'so lucky."
"I'm just as lucky. Goodness gracious, we're proper disgusting now."
"That we are. But you absolutely love it."
Harry hummed. "Mm, absolutely love you."
Louis settled himself against Harry's chest, throwing a leg and an arm over his boy.
"And I absolutely love you, Haz. Get some sleep baby, know you're exhausted."
"Night night sweet cheeks."
Louis laughed quietly, remembering the nicknames.
"Good night baby cakes." He squeezed Harry's hip, snuggling in closer.
He listened to Harry's heartbeat; the one that beats in time with his. When Louis fell asleep, it was to images of rings and vows and little curly hair toddlers running around.
He could finally breathe again.
.
**Author's Note:**
> there will be sequel featuring a proper proposal and smut and all that jazz so stayed tuned if this was any good
>
> my tumblr is // headband-stylinsons come talk to me! | 62e7d6e8d2d14fa8a25bb6c2abbd2a9e | ['bb4b7128017e4440aae38beac1af9121'] | Harry’s lungs stop working properly, only allowing him short, desperate gulps. He knows what would happen if someone read it. It would mean therapists and lack of privacy and scandal with the media, probably even set the whole tour back, and worst of all, Louis would see that Harry was a useless excuse of a boy who is incapable of appreciating what he has, and being happy, and leave once and for all.
Tears start gathering behind his eyelids, and voices start blaring in his head on repeat, making it difficult to see but somehow he makes it to the door, yanking it open and stumbling out only to hit something soft with his foot. He looks down and sees a black figure lying in a fetal position on the floor. He screams.
He wonders if this is what insanity feels like.
The figure squirms and Harry shuts his eyes, desperately searching for something to hold onto. The _thing_ on the floor suddenly knocks him off his feet, throwing out a limb. He falls on top of it and it yelps. Harry curls into a ball, rocking back and forth waiting for it to lash out at him.
Only then does he hear the one voice that could always scare away his demons no matter how vicious and harmful they might be.
“Harry. Harry, hey. Calm down, baby, please. Harry. Shh, it’s okay darling, it’s me. It’s Louis. I’m here. It’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you. Harry. Baby. Please breathe you’re scaring me darling. Hazza, honey, it’s _okay_. No one wants to hurt you, come on, breathe for me please baby. Breathe,” He soothes.
Harry focuses on Louis’ deep breaths that he can feel against his back and calms down after a couple minutes. He opens his eyes to turn around and face Louis when he sees his journal lying next to his feet where Louis had been.
His body stiffens up and Louis feels it. Louis knows Harry has seen it there; knows that Louis read it.
Then everything goes to shit.
-
Five days later, stomach overflowing with alcohol and brain hazy with smoke, it’s all a bit of a blur. He’s in their living room, if _their’s_ is even a thing, he doesn’t know anymore. It’s a bit ironic he’s just where he was when it all really fell apart, making Harry’s poem a reality.
He hasn’t showered in days, his stubble has turned into a full on beard, and as much as he knows he’s fading away, he can’t bring himself back. He’s more lost than he’s ever been in his life, and he was lost most of it until he met Harry, so that’s saying something.
People have told him before the key to moving on is accepting it happened, forgetting, and surrounding yourself with better things. He doesn’t remember who said that, but they’re fucking _stupid._ He can’t do any of that to begin with, nor does he want to. He refuses to accept it happened, because he refuses to accept that it’s over. It can’t be the end of it all, not after they went through, not after everything they _shared._
He can’t forget the best thing that ever happened to him, and that ever will and he certainly can’t surround himself with better things because there is fucking _nothing_ better than Harry. And despite his vodka and nicotine filled haze, desperately stuffing himself with the things that will kill him one day trying to just push it out of his mind for even a _minute_ , all he can do is remember.
-
_“Harry, wait, please, before you get angry, I didn’t read it to try and invade your privacy and-“_
_“Wow, Louis. This is low, even for you,” Harry cut him off, voice cold and hard, eyes empty when Louis turned to look at him pleadingly. The fact that he didn’t display any emotions at all is what scared Louis the most._
_“Harry, no I-“_
_“No. Just stop. I don’t need to hear any more of your bullshit excuses. Please, save them for someone who cares to listen. I don’t. I thought I could at least keep my right to privacy, considering it’s my fucking_ journal _but apparently being with you means giving up everything that was mine, even the things I wasn’t aware I had to share. But this, this is too fucking far, even for me to put up with, Louis.”_
_His voice gets increasingly louder the longer he talks. Louis can feel the panic rising up, choking him, bringing tears to his eyes but not words to his mouth._
_“God, damn Louis! We were so great! What did I do to make you want to leave all the time? What did I do to make you fall out of love with me? Was it even there in the first place? Or did you just pretend because you didn’t want to be alone? I don’t understand! I thought what we had was real, and I don’t know what I did to ruin it, please tell me what I did, I-“_
_Louis managed to get the connection between his brain and his mouth working again. He was in tears by now, heart beating so fast it felt like it could stop any minute from exhaustion._
_“HARRY!” He shouted hysterically, “Please, please stop, you didn’t do anything wrong, I never wanted to leave you, I just never felt good enough for you, and I don’t deserve you, and you’re so great, Harry, so lovely, and I love you so much, but-“_
_He was cut off again, but Harry wasn’t yelling this time._ |
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## CaitiWinchester67
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## CaitiWinchester67
Name | Caitlyn Farley
---|---
Location | With Dean and Sam
Birthday | Jan 22
Member Since | Oct 01, 2012
Votes Received | 4
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1. The Alley
**Author's Note:**
> This book is the same as my book on Wattpad (A Winchester's Hope), I'm just retitling it and putting it on here. Please, do not report this book, or tell me (CaitiWinchester67) on Wattpad that it was 'stolen', because it isn't. It's just retitled. Mkay?
I wake up in a strange alleyway, no memory of anything recent… I think. Hmm, let’s see… nope… uh… yes! Wait… nope. Nothing.
“Sammy, throw me the damn gun!” A deep, semi-gravelly voice echoes through the pitch black alley.
“Stop calling me Sammy!” Another voice joins.
“Just throw the fucking gun!”
Running, screaming, crying. A sudden sense of fear comes with these noises, and being my crybaby self, I try to leave the scene. Unfortunately, the moment I stand up is the moment I fall down.
I cry out in pain as I crash into a metal trashcan, then a green metal dumpster, and finally the cold, hard ground. My hands start searching my barely covered body, only to be rewarded with the feeling of various gashes, cuts, scrapes and warm blood. A frigid breeze cools my entire body while also heightening the pain.
“Who’s there?!” The first voice yells into the alley. I attempt a response but only a strangled cry leaves my lungs. “Who’s there?!” The voice questions again.
Before I can even think of responding, two well built, fairly tall men walk into a pool of moonlight. Wholly believing that my eyes deceive me, I close my eyes, then open them again. Well, they’re still there. Good, no hallucinations! For now….
I note the guns locked firmly in their hands while I examine them. The shorter of the two men has what looks to be dark blonde hair, green or grey eyes, stubble coating his strong jaw and is maybe six feet tall. He’s not bad looking.
The other man is slightly taller than his former but has brunette hair that reaches just below his ears, dark eyes, a possible mole just above his nose on the left side, a moderate jawline, and a somewhat sympathetic ‘aura’ around him. He too is handsome.
“Come out into the moonlight.” The blonde haired man commands me.
With my final attempt at moving myself any closer to them (which is fairly difficult considering I’m obviously injured and scared), my body lurches forward. A few inches nearer to the men I am but my aching body is spread across the pavement. I find no strength with which to help me up.
“Who are you?” The blonde man asks me.
“I…” My voice cracks and whines as I speak. “Don’t…”
“You don’t know?” The tall man’s voice softly questions.
“No…”
“Of course she doesn’t know.” The blonde man drones. I hear both men lower their guns, but I feel one of them crouch down to me and place a hand onto my shoulder. “Don’t help her! She could be evil!”
“You don’t know that, Dean. Let’s at the very least help her.”
“No.”
“Why’re you so quick to judge?” The man who’s helping me asks this Dean while gently lifting me up. I groan as another wave of pain crashes against my body. “She’s hurt.”
“Don’t help her, Sam!”
Sam ignores Dean and flips me over, revealing his soft hazel eyes. He then places one hand beneath my neck and the other beneath my back before lifting me up.
“Are you okay, miss?” His softness and grace is clearly heard through his voice.
“No…”
“Would you mind if we took you to a hospital?”
The foreignness of the word hospital is unusual for me. Then again, this entire encounter is unusual.
Not knowing what else to do, I shake my head. Dean scoffs and scowls at me. Sam just turns his head towards Dean and says, “We’re taking her to a hospital, whether you want to or not.”
“Does the word danger mean anything to you?!” Dean combats, waving his gun in the air.
“Does the word kindness have any meaning to you?” Sam sneers back.
I really want to fuckin’ slap both of them and/or tell them to just let me die, but I have no strength, nor do I have a voice. So, I guess I’m screwed right now. Great.
“Yeah, it does. And I know that kindness has decided to bite me in the ass more than once. Why, in fact, I’m dying in a year because of my kindness.”
“Did I ask you to save me? No! Just drop it for now! She really needs help.”
“Ugh, fine. But if this one bites YOU in the ass, you won’t see ME hanging around. Let’s go.”
As Sam carries me to an unknown destination, Dean grumbles and whines about the situation. The second he ‘accidentally’ bumps into Sam, I get jolted and pain rips through me again. This time, though, it’s enough that I fade into the darkness.
^^^^^^^^^
After entering my own home, I throw my bag down onto the counter and scream out in rage. How could that bastard just fire me?! Oh wait, I forgot that he’s a sexist pig. The same sexist pig who refused to acknowledge that I had a face and a voice during the entire three months of me working there.
At least I can now search for a job where my actual skills will be wanted. A place where what I do is important and valued. Possibly a nurse’s assistant position at Providence. Hmm, maybe.
I walk the same old course from my apartment door to my couch, my nails slightly digging into my makeup coated face. Once at the couch, I collapse onto it, wanting to fall asleep and forget that my life sucks right now. |
b0978e2e7d9d49e6aefbbcfe515d9410 | ['bb8e3f534aae4e0b9bc368b15bb4dd5b'] | Henry couldn’t argue with that. For months, he’d been hearing about how grand the new ship _Titanic_ was, and had even considered swinging round to the docks on the day she was due to come into port just to see her for himself. Opening his paper and finding out she had sunk was surprising, to say the least. Like everyone else, he’d been curious to know the details, hence wrangling his way into the Waldorf to watch the Senate hearings. So far, the reports had been fascinating, if a little discouraging.
“I would like to call Mr. Lowe, the fifth officer. The witness will be sworn in.”
The crowd started murmuring again as the next witness rose to his feet. The man was still wearing his uniform, though whether it was out of pride, necessity, or having been requested to by the inquest was uncertain. He turned towards the panel to be sworn in, and Henry gave a start. Even from this distance, he could tell that Lowe looked a lot like himself. Thankfully, his seatmates hadn’t seemed to have noticed, too interested in what the new witness had to say. Henry leaned forward, wanting to catch every word while simultaneously trying to get a better look at yet another twin.
Maybe it was just because he had a more vested interest in this particular witness, but the line of questioning was much more irritating than before. It seemed that Senator Smith sent Lowe round in circles for a good ten minutes, asking questions about dates and drills, sounding almost accusatory when Lowe got his dates mixed up. Lowe must have been feeling similarly put out, because a bit of sarcasm started creeping into his voice as the questioning went on. It reached its high point when Smith, apparently convinced that every officer on board should have been aware of the danger the _Titanic_ was sailing into, asked Lowe if he knew what an iceberg was made out of. Lowe paused for a fraction of a second, then he said, pleasantly but with just a touch of venom lurking in there, “Ice, I suppose, sir.”
Henry was the first one to laugh, though he immediately clapped a hand to his mouth to try to suppress it. Fortunately, others had apparently found it equally amusing, even though the response clearly annoyed Senator Smith. He rapped the gavel sharply before continuing the interrogation. For his part, Lowe just sat back mildly, but Henry could swear he saw a trace of a smirk on the young man’s face.
The questioning seemed interminable, but one thing became very clear; Lowe might not have been good at remembering the minute details, but when it had come to trying to rescue the passengers, he had been in top form. He’d had the guts to yell at the head of the White Star line for interfering with the lowering of the lifeboats (though to be fair, he hadn’t been aware of it at the time), and he’d tried to protect his boat from being swarmed while simultaneously trying not to hurt anyone. Most impressive of all, though, was that he was the only boat that had been willing to go back to rescue the people in the water. He didn’t seem overly proud when he said it, just matter-of-fact, as though it had been the obvious thing to do. Henry felt his heart swell with pride at that, as though Lowe was his own son.
After another twenty minutes of back-and-forth, nitpicking questions, Lowe was finally dismissed. Just as soon as Lowe rose to his feet, Henry did the same, picking his way through the crowd, hoping he would be able to get through before Lowe vanished from the building entirely.
He was in luck; Lowe arrived in the lobby via elevator a few seconds after Henry had sprinted down the stairs. After taking a few gasping breaths, Henry ran a hand through his hair in order to look presentable and approached. “Excuse me, Officer Lowe?”
“No more bloody questions!” Lowe snapped, whirling on his heel, “I’ve had quite enough for one…oh!” He stopped and stared in amazement. “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of those damned reporters.”
Henry held up his hands in supplication. “I didn’t intend to ask any questions, save one. Would you like to have a drink with me, after all that? I know you abstain from alcohol, but it sounds like you could use a bit of tea or coffee after everything they just put you through in there.”
Lowe considered for a second, then shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, except back to my hotel or that damned inquiry. I’ll have to go back tomorrow, just in case they want to clarify a few points, but I’d like a few hours peace.”
“Understandably so,” Henry said, holding the door for Lowe, “Come on, I know an excellent café a few blocks from here.”
Lowe was quiet during the walk there, busying himself with removing his cap and jacket so as not to attract too much attention. He didn’t even seem all that interested in trying to get to know his drinking companion, though at least Henry had managed to introduce himself once they’d gotten out of the Waldorf. Even after they’d arrived, Lowe didn’t seem in the mood to start up a conversation, only speaking enough to give his order to the waitress. Feeling a bit awkward, Henry gave it another minute before speaking. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Senator Smith always sounds like he’s trying to pin the blame on whoever he’s speaking to.”
Lowe rolled his eyes. “He’s probably hoping this will be a feather in his cap that he can use to advance himself politically. But he’s going too far. ‘Do you know what an iceberg is composed of’, honestly!”
Henry chuckled. “Your response was masterful, though.” | 6cf84e0d9168433eb40855499818db70 | ['bb8e3f534aae4e0b9bc368b15bb4dd5b'] | “Yeah, by digging myself deeper and admitting to murder,” an annoyed voice responded, though Henry couldn’t help but notice that despite the broad New York accent, there seemed to be something a little more refined lurking in his voice, “That sounds _really_ useful to me.”
“Let’s just take this one step at a time,” Jo said, “When was the last time you saw Detective Keith Olsen?”
“Five months ago, when he testified at my trial.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“Why would I want to keep in touch? Bad enough I need to contact my parole officer every week.”
“All right, so what about drugs?” Hanson interjected, “You been making any Ecstasy lately?”
“A, why on earth would I admit that, and B, no. I know better than to violate my parole.”
“It says here in your file that you graduated with a degree in Chemistry. What exactly made you decide to use that degree to make illegal drugs?” Jo asked.
“I was young, ok?!” Lynch burst out, “Young, broke, and stupid. I had to pay off my college debts somehow, and I knew from the party scene that Ecstasy would sell well. It was just a matter of getting the materials. And after I’d paid off my debts, I thought, hey, being able to live comfortably for doing something relatively simple isn’t such a bad deal. So I kept going…at least until Olsen caught me.”
There was real pain in Lynch’s voice, but even more surprisingly, there was regret. Henry was willing to bet that whatever Lynch had been doing since he’d been paroled, he was actually trying to make a go of going straight. He wondered if Jo was picking up on that, too.
Just as Jo was asking what Lynch had been doing with himself after being paroled, Henry’s nose chose that moment to misbehave. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose, trying to keep the itch at bay, but that only delayed it for a minute or so. Holding his breath, Henry groped for his handkerchief and covered his nose completely to muffle the sound, pinching it for good measure. Unfortunately, if there was one thing he’d learned from years of experience, stifling made things quieter…but it just prolonged the fit.
So as Lynch explained that he had a job working for a warehouse and volunteered his time at an addiction center, Henry was left with one hand pressing his ear to the phone to catch every detail and the other hand clamping his nose shut to prevent any sound from escaping. His eyes were screwed shut, his shoulders bobbed with every sneeze, and the itch in his nose didn’t show any signs of abating. He was glad he wasn’t physically present at the questioning; Lynch would have taken one look at him and burst out laughing.
It was a good three minutes before the itch finally let up, by which point Jo and Hanson were drawing things to a close. “And you haven’t been in contact with any of your former dealers or assistants?”
“Only one, Jake. But he was at the center as a patient. Trust me, he was in no condition to kill anyone, and was closely monitored besides.”
“All right, Mr. Lynch, I think we’ve got enough for now. We may bring you back for a few questions later.”
“Am I…am I still a suspect?” Lynch sounded hesitant.
“We’ll see.” was all Hanson said, before chairs scraped again and a door opened. There was a moment’s pause, and then Lynch said, “Oh, by the way, Detective, you may want to check your phone. Judging from the squeaking noises it was making, you’ve either got an urgent message or it’s in need of repair. My phone did the same thing when one of the wires was fried.”
Henry felt the heat rise to his face. Jo just said something vague. The moment the door had closed, Jo’s voice got a lot closer. “What do you think, Henry?”
Henry tried to answer coherently, but his failed attempt at keeping quiet had left him with a lot of congestion. “He didn’t…” he sniffed, rubbing his nose, “He didn’t do it. He…” another sniff, “He sounded too regretful for me to…” a third sniff, this one accompanied by a running nose and a mad scramble for the handkerchief “…to believe that he’s not sincere.”
“I was getting the same impression,” Jo said, “I’m guessing you’ll suggest we investigate the clinic?”
“Yes,” Henry said, gently massaging his nose to try to keep the sniffs at bay, “But I would focus more on the volunteers than on the patients. They’re more likely to have medical knowledge.” Desperate for relief, he pressed the handkerchief to his nose and made a noise that sounded vaguely like the garbage disposal in the kitchen. “Pardon me.” he apologized into the phone, blushing again.
“Take a rest, Henry,” Jo said gently, “You’ve earned it. I swear, I’ll try not to bother you again.”
“It’s not a bother. I understand how you feel. I should be back at work in a day or two. You can fill me in on all the details then.”
“We’d better head to the clinic before it closes. See you soon, Henry.”
With that, the phone shut off. Henry set it on the bedside table for Abe to retrieve and fell back against the mattress. He wondered if he’d be able to get a few minutes rest before the sneezing started up again.
***
_Day Five_
A soft knock on the door caused Henry to raise his head from his book. “Henry, it’s Jo. Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Henry answered, setting the book aside, “Though I’m a little surprised you got past Abe.”
“I promised him this wouldn’t take long,” she said, entering the room (sans face mask, Henry noticed) “And it really won’t. I just need you to sign some paperwork confirming your participation in the Olsen investigation.” |
43f5cc51df81497398a96a67cf6774e1 | ['bb918790969a43cab9ca0422488a66fc'] | You were sat beside Clint Barton in the S.H.I.E.L.D base housing the Tesseract. You didn't know much about it, aside from its involvement in World War ll. Oh, how you used to obsess over that Captain America Museum in New York. Your inner fan-girl had only been rekindled even brighter than it was before when they found Steve Rogers in the ice and thawed him out last week. To be honest, you weren't too impressed with Fury at this point. After Cap woke up, they basically took his shield and outfit, gave him a shitty apartment in downtown New York along a box of files on his dead friends and sent him on his way. Their treatment of the war hero disgusted you. Now Dr. Erik Selvig was studying the Tesseract, trying to harness its power to build weapons which sounded like icing on the cake to your recent disappointments in S.H.I.E.L.D. But after The God of Thunder came to New Mexico and battled a giant metal monster with his 4 Asgardian battle buddies, you couldn't really blame Fury for panicking a little on this one. From what you've read of Thor in the legends, he's the last person you wanted coming back to earth anytime soon.
You pondered this while you sat against the railing beside Clint as he failed at brooding beside you. He clutched the bars and watched the movement below intently. You slowly crinkled back the wrapper on your granola bar. He didn't break his brooding.
"Clint."
No response.
"Clint."
Nothing.
"Clint, look." You said as you started to reach for his hair.
Finally his hand flew up to catch your wrist as he looked over at you. "Don't touch the hair, every-"
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Every strand has it's place. I know. Why are you brooding?"
He looked back to the doctors below. "I'm not brooding, this is how I sit."
"Perch." You say as you take a bite of your bar. "Hungry?"
Clint responded by opening his mouth, you put the bar in his mouth and he bit down. His face contorted slightly at the taste.
"Who the hell puts raisins in granola bars??"
"I'm trying to eat better." You responded, taking another bite.
"Better than what?"
"You."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Clint," you began as you pulled yourself up straighter on the rail. "I'm not going to eat peanut butter from the jar like you do, and I'm not getting granola bars that have been dipped in chocolate and cream, like those ones you eat a box of a day."
"Okay first of all, that's an exaggeration-" he began, but Fury's voice came in through his radio. "Agent Barton, report."
You wave him off. "It's alright, I'll assume your reply was something terribly witty."
Clint stood. "It was, and I'm gonna tell you my amazing comeback once I see what Fury wants."
"Just as soon as you think of it, huh?"
Clint smirked and climbed over the rail, sliding down a pole to the ground below. You chuckled and took the last bite of your granola bar, crumpling up the wrapper and shoving it in the pocket of your uniform.
You took Clint's spot, brooding and watching over the work below. You squinted and watched as the Tesseract began to spark. You stood as the energy began to spike from it more powerfully, causing the ground to thunder and shake violently beneath you. You grabbed the rail tightly and watched with wide eyes as the flaring glow from the cube sparked brighter and louder, the energy building itself into a beam which shot across the platform it was held on, forming a blue swirling vortex at the end and opening up some kind of a....portal? _Oh, god. Surely not._
You heard the sound of the Tesseract tearing the portal open and the commotion of the frantic doctors and agents, but you didn't see what was happening as you swung over the rail and landed on the ground below. When you looked up towards the platform, the shaking had stopped. The facility was eerily quiet. All that could be heard was a heavy, ragged breathing, from some being shrouded in the smoke that filled the room.
Then you saw him. | b6a90b1276cb4bc78ab1c2fd1620ab85 | ['bb918790969a43cab9ca0422488a66fc'] | Playing an Intricate Game - Prologue
**Author's Note:**
> So this is part one of what I plan to be a long story going through the MCU. The Readers backstory will be revealed more as time goes on, and there will be a pairing for the reader in the future, so if you want me to continue this let me know in the comments :D
> I have a lot of plans for this story, so I hope some of you out there decide to subscribe and catch the next chapters. Thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback!
>
> -USER
S.H.I.E.L.D HQ.
This was your home now, at least that's what you tried to convince yourself. Truth be told, you didn't think they trusted you. Why would they? You don't exactly have the best track record. In fairness, you didn't trust them either. Trust issues. You told yourself you'd work on those someday.
S.H.I.E.L.D took you in after meeting you on an assassination mission. It wasn't your commanders best move to send you after Natalia Romanova, their finest creation. Fortunately, you and Natalia go way back. Natasha.
She left you before, you forgave her abandonment. She came back for you and for that you're grateful. If it weren't for her, god knows where you might be today. In a dark hell, hidden away from any sun that might warm your skin, where you were mutilated and pieced back together time and time again. A hell you knew all too well. Or worse.
Your life went from that to sipping drinks with your old best friend and her new one in a matter of weeks. You did many missions with them for Director Fury, not like your old missions. These missions were for the right side this time. Things were going to be different from now on. You were S.H.I.E.L.D's best team. Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Zima Rogers.
But no matter how much they've done for you, Clint, Natasha, Fury, you couldn't trust them. You couldn't trust yourself. You knew it would only be a matter of time before this seemingly perfect situation blew up in your face. Nothing lasts forever, you above all know this. S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know much of your time before the Red Room where they met you, not even Natasha knew the whole story.
For now, you'll revel in the freedom of working under Director Fury. It's the most free you've ever felt. |
4878004fed0948b3b9b900b826ac3664 | ['bbce3febdb794a6b8476549c6b29b5b0'] | He snorts at the notion, but there's no humor in the sound and he doesn't feel anything, either. His wrists don't hurt anymore, he wishes they did so just he'd feel something. He feels himself fracturing some more, splintering like the fragments of broken glass, and the fucked up thing is that he knows he could go back inside. He could sit outside Otose's room and stay there until the feeling passed. He could ask her to keep talking to him, to keep him company.
He _could_.
But he won't.
He has taken up enough of her time tonight, more than he feels he has any right to.
Gritting his teeth, he turns over on his stomach and crawls back behind the stairs to a dark corner. His shoulder protests the whole way, but he ignores it and keeps moving. He seats himself in the wedged right in the meeting of two walls with his back to the building where he's put in the dark by the shadow of the stairs and overhang of the apartment. He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them to keep them in place. His shoulder gives an aching throb as if it has been wrenched and maybe it has, he doesn't really know. He disregards it all the same and even laughs under his breath about it because somewhere in there something humorous is lurking.
The stairs are a mountain he can't climb and he doesn't know what he'd do if he even made it to the top. He'll truly suffocate if he goes inside the apartment, the emptiness will swallow him whole. The fractures are starting to widen and a headache blooms behind his eyes with a sharpness that has him sucking in a startled breath. Even to his own ears, the breath is silent, he won't make noise and he doesn't think he could if he tried.
Frowning, he glares at the light coming from the street, it repulses him. It's too bright and though he's in a place where the light can't touch him, he still feels exposed. He gives the light, the street, that _direction_ and everything out there, a fiercer glare, but then it melts into a painful grimace that he hides in his knees. His next breath is harsh and gasping, it's hard to breathe, his lungs aren't big enough to hold any air. His shoulder gives a pinch and he hisses into his knees having the urge to rip his whole arm off.
It's just his right arm, what good has his right arm ever done?
If he got rid of his right arm, perhaps the string would go with it.
His head whips back and strikes against the wood sending a lance of pain through his skull and down his back. He sucks in air as a wheeze, sure now that his throat is collapsing in on itself, which is apparently amusing enough to tear a scoff out of him.
He will do a lot of things, but think about the string is not one of them.
Gintoki squeezes his eyes shut and remains still, face buried in his knees and fingers gripping tightly to his clothes. He'll move upstairs later, no one will find him here or notice him in the corner. In the silent hours of the early morning, he's alone. A tremor shakes through his body and he's sure he might puke, but he only gags. There's still not enough air and while he breathes harshly, he does so quietly.
It's cold and he shakes.
His bokken digs into his side and his shoulder gives a piercing throb.
Behind him, a wall, before him, an endless oblivion – morning is a long way off.
**To Be Continued**
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sooo, this chapter was kind of a surprise LOL I just sat down with the intention to edit and add to the actual next chapter, but then this happened as kind of an interlude. Or rather, I had an idea about this written out to happen at the beginning of the next chapter, but then it just grew and got a chapter of its own. Hope you enjoyed!
12. But What's the Point of Screaming Into the Void
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Pain. You might chuckle every so often because goddamn it, I like jokes, but this will hurt. I'm sorry.
“Gin-chan!” Kagura calls from where she's perched on Sadaharu's back. “Let's go!”
Gintoki grumbles and scratches at his head, but follows along. They're on a job and they're in desperate need of money, more so than usual. Gintoki hadn't wanted to get up this morning, but Shinpachi had persisted and pestered until he'd started moving. He hasn't been very motivated to do anything the last few days and so, they're shorter on money than they have been in a long time.
Now that he's up and going, though, he regrets leaving his futon. The warmth he'd accumulated over the night has now left him entirely and also, he aches. He hurts sometimes, he's so used to it that he doesn't think twice about it anymore, but this morning, he aches more than he has in a long time. It's a pain that rests right along his shoulders, a lot of it is centered at the base of his neck, and while he's doing his best to ignore it, it's rather dogged. He's not concerned and simply rolls his shoulder a few times in the hopes of dispelling it.
“We've got a busy day ahead of us,” Shinpachi says from Gintoki's left.
“Does any of it include dango?”
“No.”
“Parfait?”
“No.”
“Strawberry milk?”
“No.”
“Then _why_ are we out here at all?”
Shinpachi shoots him a disapproving look. “To get money enough to pay for those things.”
“What kind of jobs did you pick out?” | db1ed3baffea4b4da1c1f7546d67321c | ['bbce3febdb794a6b8476549c6b29b5b0'] | Gintoki grabs him by his cravat and pulls him, walking them backward into the room, eyes on Hijikata's lips. Sometimes Hijikata's body gets used to slam the door shut, but this time the door is left ajar and Hijikata gets wrapped up in Gintoki's arms. He doesn't fight it, it's what he wants, so he falls right into Gintoki's body and lets himself be held and kissed like he's the single most important being in Gintoki's life. Sometimes he can really believe that he is, Gintoki has the power to make him feel that way, he can pull right on Hijikata's heartstrings in a way no one else ever has.
That the door is still open as Hijikata slides his hand up Gintoki's chest and around his shoulders is a declaration in and of itself. At one time he never would have let that happen, would never have allowed even the possibility that someone might see them. And now? Well, now Hijikata has been poisoned by red eyes and broad shoulders, rough hands and creamy skin. Hijikata has become greedy and possessive, he's intoxicated by what he has with Gintoki.
Hijikata stands by his mindset that there are certain things about his relationship – mostly all of it – that he never wants anyone to see because it's his, he _is_ a prude at heart, but there's this newly formed desire in him. It's what allows him to leave the door open, to kiss Gintoki like he has wanted to all day knowing full well that someone could walk by. Should they see, let them know that Gintoki is his, let them see he has something real, beyond words, and so expansive it leaves his chest tight and gut coiled.
It'd been a bit scary the first time that desire had sprung up within up, but he accepts it. He hadn't at first, he'd pushed it away, but after Gintoki had almost d –
Hijikata turns his head and break away from the kisses with spit on his lips and he's already panting. He cups Gintoki's face with one hand and studies his face. His pallor is still the wrong shade and Hijikata knows the dark circles won't disappear no matter how much he rubs at them. Even now, though, he's handsome, and anyone who spares him even half a glance will be able to see it. Perhaps that's another reason why Hijikata has become more avaricious.
“You ready to get out of these?” Gintoki asks as he squeezes down on Hijikata's hips. Hijikata knows he shouldn't react, but he does, he can't help it, he's a slave to this. He nods, it's the simplest gesture, but he knows it dooms him – he wants to be doomed. A dark laugh, then, “Too bad.”
Gintoki presses on a strap on Hijikata's thigh and follows it along as far as he can reach. Pain strikes through Hijikata's whole leg and he'd have fallen if Gintoki weren't holding onto him so tight. A noise locks up in Hijikata's throat, a higher pitched groan, and Hijikata's dick is throbbing. He likes this, Gintoki knows he likes it and it makes his head fuzzy because blood is rushing in the opposite direction.
“God, you're shaking.”
“S-shuddap.”
Gintoki licks at his ear. “Gimme your body.”
Hijikata scoffs – Gintoki talks like he doesn't already have it. It's a taunt in a way, it's a warning, it's also asking permission backhandedly, and Hijikata turns his head for another kiss. This one is less soft, more forceful, like they're trying to mold themselves into each other. Gintoki's tongue presses into Hijikata's mouth and his hand pulls on the straps on either side, tearing out the moan bottled up in Hijikata's throat.
“ _Ohh_... f-fuck,” Hijikata lets out between kisses.
His eyes are closed and he goes in for kiss after kiss, seeking out plush lips and nipping teeth. He runs his hands over Gintoki's back and shoulders, blindly feeling him out and lingering on the outline of bandages he can feel on his right side. He traces them and presses down where he knows the wound to be just to hear Gintoki grunt and feel his grip squeeze harder. It's sort of pubescent to like standing and making out in the middle of the room, but Gintoki has a way of making Hijikata feel half his age, almost like he really is a teenager again.
A teenager with some kinks because he moans like a bitch when Gintoki grabs his ass and yanks him forward.
“Goddamn it,” Gintoki breathes and moves them, twisting so he can slam the door shut.
And _that_ always feels good – when it's Gintoki that doesn't want anyone to see, when he's possessive and controlling, Hijikata's cock pulses in his pants. While his lips aren't preoccupied and before he can be distracted again, he tries to start taking off his shirt, but Gintoki grabs his hand, stilling him. He gets walked backward until he's shoved down onto the bed and Gintoki takes a knee in front of him.
“I hated that scouting mission,” Gintoki says and slowly pulls off one of Hijikata's boots.
“Yeah?”
“We were too far apart.”
“Mm... poor baby.”
Gintoki glares up at him and pulls off the second boot. “Don't antagonize me.”
“I'll do what I want if it'll get ya to go faster.” |
4e576b24f3284ce6877c16bd894deae3 | ['bbd888c5b30845119b1074c1b16f10d6'] | “It certainly wasn’t to prove you’ve had lessons in being polite and ladylike, that’s for sure,” I snorted, I felt better being mean to this woman I won’t lie “you really shouldn’t have skipped that class.”
Orion snorted and then patted me on the shoulder while Pricilla sputtered “perhaps, gairghean, we should return ye ta yer parents before they start to worry about ye?”
“Of course, Uncle,” I nodded before bowing my head to Pricilla “good day, Mistress Black,” I said very politely and correctly for this time period.
Orion led me over to where Kariwase was standing, watching her husband interact with his brother and father. The swaggering rogue planted me in a chair he’d conjured right next to her. Then, with a beaming smile on his face, the man preceded to tell my ‘mother’ what exactly I’d done and why. I thought this was going to be a bad thing but Kariwase just grinned told me she was proud of me. She did keep me beside her though, I wasn’t allowed to wonder about.
***A***
Kariwase even kept me next to her at dinner (a.k.a. Rupert’s wake) and out of sight of Leo. I don’t think she liked the way that Pricilla kept glaring at me and making small, snide remarks. Wasn’t just a person of mixed race that she didn’t like, also half-bloods as well (which apparently I am? I don’t know). Now it was easy to see where that prejudice side of the Black family came from.
The native woman only let me out of her sight when it was time for bed. I spent more of the night reading because I couldn’t sleep. Stilling having nightmares because that’s a thing again. I fell asleep on the small couch thing next to the fire, wrapped up in a blanket. Exactly where Nana found me the next morning with the book I’d been engrossed in on the floor.
She shook me awake “good morning, a sheòid,” she said softly, kneeling beside the couch and brushing my hair out of my face “tis time to get up.”
Slowly I opened my eyes and frowned, barely awake “I’d rather sleep, Nana, cause then this would all be a dream.”
Nana smiled sadly “I know, but tis time get up.”
“You know, I’m going to miss this place,” I groaned sitting up, hearing a lot of popping form my back “we don’t have the castle in my time. Don’t know why because this place is awesome. Couch could be more comfortable but the castle is homey.”
Nana just sighed and patted my cheek before she left me to get dressed. I was still trying to wake up even after I’d arrived at the breakfast table. Elise was there and immediately started fussing over my hair the moment she dragged me down into my seat. The woman had been hold up on Rupert’s room since we’d arrived. I didn’t protest her actions and let her fuss so to make her feel better.
Only person to complain about what Elise was doing was Pricilla. Kariwase told Elise not to worry about it and to keep what she was doing. The Mohawk woman was fascinated by the braids that Elise was putting together. Elise was explaining every twist and placement whilst explaining the spell that would do the work in half the time.
When the braid was done, Elise went back to her breakfast and I tried napping on Heracles’s shoulder. I was so freaking tired which means I probably drooled on the man, who didn’t really care. He let me sleep and gently woke me again when it was time to head down to the cemetery.
Heracles made sure that I had everything done correctly for my tartan and clan broach. He fussed over my enchanted gloves to make sure they were warm enough and that I had my knit cap before we left the warmth of the castle. It was a long walk to the village where the cemetery was and he didn’t want me getting cold. I wasn’t complaining because it was nice because he was being a father.
***A***
I didn’t cry when they lowered Rupert’s coffin down into his grave. That’s something I thought I’d do. It was something I felt I should have done but there were no tears to be had. I felt so many thing that I couldn’t pick just one out of the tangle. Sure, I felt the realization that Rupert wasn’t coming back but I felt detached from the event.
Elise was crying, Nana was crying, Orion was teary eyed, Pricilla looked like she could have cared less, Rigel couldn’t take his eyes off the painted white box his son was in and Leo looked stoic about the whole thing. I couldn’t see Heracles because he was on the other side of Kariwase, who was right next to me and Claudia was on my other side. Both women holding tightly to my hands as if I was going to float away any second.
There was a preacher there from the village and he spoke his bit in Latin and then used his wand to fill in Rupert’s grave. He shook Rigel’s hand and then walked out of the snowy cemetery. It was Rigel who used magic to carve out the epitaph on Rupert’s blank headstone. The lettering was really pretty and flowing together. Wasn’t much more than his name and his dates of birth and death.
Then Rigel nodded and walked away without looking back. Slowly the group that was gathered departed, the paladins lingering until Nana was ready to leave. Heracles and Orion escorted her, her arms through theirs as they were on either side of her, on the long walk back up to the castle. I got once last glimpse of where my uncle lay before Claudia ushered me down the trail behind Kariwase.
***A*** | 1269724522c04b409e37390cb454d95f | ['bbd888c5b30845119b1074c1b16f10d6'] | “Eww…” I grimaced and smacked her shoulder lightly. “That’s gross, why would you say that?” my aunt just smirked. Alright then. “Though, however nasty that comment was, still doesn’t tell me exactly what…oh, oh-kay…” I was speechless as I was led into the kitchen.
There, with Healer Strout, at the kitchen table was…a woman who looked very much like my mother but couldn’t have been, I did a double take and looked closer; glanced between the new woman and Aunt Andy. The similarities were striking in the bone structure, eye shapes and eye color. It was the body build that was different; Aunt Andy was smaller and slimmer where the woman had wider shoulders and was taller.
“Umm…what?” I squeaked, so very much confessed.
The woman glowered, speaking in a rather pretty voice, “hello, baby cousin, you come to gawk too?”
I sat down quickly at the table and blinked at the woman. “Sirius?” I asked because he’s the only one who ever called me that with that particular connotation of irritation to the term.
“Look at you,” the woman mocked, “you’re quicker than the rest of the birds in this roost. I’m fine, you can leave back to Hogwarts.”
Healer Strout snorted and stated loftily, “you are not fine, Mister…err…Miss Black. You are malnourished, again, and are possibly pregnant! You are playing dangerous with your health and that of your possible child.”
I slapped the table to head off Sirius’s retort. “Okay….this has already been a really weird and extremely trying day for me and I am not in the mood for pussyfooting around the subject of whatever in the hell is happening here. Sirius, why are you a woman?”
She snorted contemptuously but swallowed whatever nasty comment she had when she was met with my glare. I just sighed when Sirius held…err…her peace. Now I see why Aunt Andy sent for me.
“Sirius, I’m not going to judge you. Not when I have memories of being a dude in my head,” I told him…her…this was confusing. “Not that I’d care anyways. Your gender is your business but your health isn’t; please tell me.”
Sirius glared at me. “Fine,” she snapped. “If you blithering birds must know, I-I…I took a human transfiguration pill, alright! I was trying to see if I felt…better as a woman.” Well, that was surprising, but not as much as what was muttered next, “it worked before.”
“Before?” I asked. “Sirius, honestly, I’m not here to judge you. Do…do you want to tell me in private? Without the healers here?”
Sirius glanced at Aunt Andy and then nodded quickly. It was Healer Strout that got my aunt to leave the room and I quickly warded the door so they couldn’t hear what was being said. Sirius didn’t speak until after Kreacher had brought a fresh pot of tea.
“When I was sixteen, you know I ran away from home,” Sirius started, rolling her teacup between her hands. I nodded and Sirius continued, “The whole reason wasn’t because of the pureblood drivel that my parents were spouting. It was because my mother caught me…as a girl. Like physically a girl. Ja-James, the year before, had played a prank and had turned me into a girl that McGonagall had to reverse but I’d never felt comfortable in my own skin,” she confided and wiped at her teary eyes. “I’d always felt unsettled and confused. I wanted girly things but learned not to ask as a child; my parents had standards and a Nancy for a son wasn’t one of them.”
I nodded slowly. “So, being a girl was like an epiphany?” I asked, understand the concept of wanting to crawl out of your own skin and being in the wrong body; that’s how I felt before I figured out my hawk.
Sirius nodded. “Yeah, like a big one. I cried when your grandmother turned me back; she assumed it was hormones but it was because I didn’t want to be stuck as a boy again.”
“And so, you decided to try again?” I asked softly. “Is this why you were having so much trouble with the mind healers?”
Again Sirius nodded. “But not the whole reason.” She sighed heavily when I kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. “I-I…well, when I ran away to the Potters…I sort of slept with James and got pregnant,” she confessed and I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head. “I did like you friend, Angie did, used a glamor and concealment charm to hide the pregnancy with James and Moony’s help...”
I held up a hand to stop her…Sirius because I needed to process this. If I was understanding this correctly then Sirius bolted from his (her?) family because they found out he (she) was transgendered; okay, that made sense. The fact that Sirius seems to have bedded his best friend; honestly not surprising given everything I’ve ever heard about their friendship. It was the fact that they had a child that got me.
“How was the pregnancy viable?” I asked curiously. “Last year when Su…err…the Weasley boys became girls…I think that was last year…anyways, they turned back, though they did experience their monthlies.”
Sirius smirked and shook her head. “Yea, and I bet they weren’t shagged at any point in which they had holes instead of poles, right?”
I shuddered slightly. “I’d rather not think of the mating habits of redheaded menaces. However, with their mother hovering and being under constant watch, I’m going to say no, they were not shagged.”
The woman on the other side of the table laughed and then drain her teacup. “Yea, see, magic will protect life because life is magic. When I became pregnant my magic protected the life inside me and I stayed as a girl…woman, until I gave birth to a daughter.” |
02163b73d49d402c80db9a9281d3676e | ['bbe59f795ebc4b42b564fb53634abf76'] |
Reunited
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> I wrote this several years ago as a reaction to emungere's story because I am a total sucker for reunion stories. I never finished it or posted it until now because it felt strange to write sequel to someone else's fic. I found this recently and decided I might as well post is as not.
The last forty-eight hours had passed by like a wild dream and John woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room at an unusually late hour.
The memories from last night surged back into his mind so strongly, that it took until he had redressed in his two-day-old jeans and jumper to realise he had actually slept undisturbed by nightly horrors.
Venturing downstairs he found a pair of keys in top of a note, almost unnoticeable among the numerous beakers and other science equipment littering the kitchen table. Sherlock was nowhere to be found.
John fixed himself a cup of tea, wary of finding more experiments even remotely similar to the one in the microwave. John knew he didn't really have a problem with random body parts, even if they were removed from labs where they could be more suitably kept. He decided he didn't necessarily need to see them before being properly awake.
John pocketed the keys after reading the note. One was to get into the building, the other to get into the flat proper. He recalled getting similar instructions about a set of keys to another London flat years ago, and his thoughts immediately returned to the man he had received them from:
_Greg._
Of course he had recognised the man immediately when he had barged up the stairs to ask for Sherlock's assistance. The past eighteen years had made their mark on Greg; his posture was a bit more crouched, there was a tiredness in his eyes and his hair had turned from solid dark to silvery grey. Even so, John had been struck by the familiarity of his voice and his easy manners.
Greg, on the other hand, had not recognised John, or if he had, he had not shown it. A small part of John wanted to insist he simply hadn't left a big enough impression on Greg to be remembered by him. With an irritated frown John pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He studied his hand cradling the now empty teacup and tried to remember when it had last been untanned and unmarked by scars and callouses.
_Eighteen years, and fifteen of them in the Queens Army. Jesus Christ, even if he did remember, there's no wonder he couldn't recognise me._
John put the cup down and made a decision. With determined steps he went out into London's slow mid-morning bustle.
The day crept into late afternoon when John was shown onto the right floor and into the right office space at Scotland Yard. He had spent the day moving his boxed belongings to Baker Street, and after a well deserved shower was now ready to face his past.
At John's knock at the door the Detective Inspector waved him in with a tired grin.
"Doctor Watson, didn't expect to see you here." Greg's voice was rough from exhaustion.
"It's John."
That earned him another flash of teeth from the man across the desk.
"Alright, John, but I go by Lestrade, at least around these parts."
John sat down in a chair at Greg's nod and felt a frown grow on his face.
_He still doesn't know it's me. How the hell am I supposed to do this?_
Greg looked at him appraisingly and at last leaned forward with his elbows on his desk.
"Are you here to make a confession?" he asked.
_Yes, in a manner of speaking..._
"I thought since we'll probably be seeing each other a lot through Sherlock I might as well come by and..." John voice petered off as he caught sight of Greg's stare. "What?"
"Where is it?"
"Where is what?" John's eyebrows shot up on confusion.
"Don't. Just don't."
John opened hos mouth to ask what the hell Greg was talking about but was interrupted.
"What have you done with the gun?"
"Oh!" A chill of dread ran through John as he realised how wrong a turn this meeting had taken. Greg squinted at him from beneath his brows and waited.
_What am I supposed to say? Tossed in a bin? Bottom of the Thames?_
"It's safe. Under lock and key." John surprised himself with his honest answer. "But that's actually not why I'm here."
Now it was Greg's turn to look surprised.
"Go on." he urged.
John rubbed his face with his hand as he contemplated his phrasing.
_I know you know I shot a man yesterday, but hey, I'm that kid you helped half a lifetime ago when he'd been... no. No._
"Look. Just. I don't know how to... God, this is so bizarre." He finally managed with a sigh.
Greg's confusion showed clearly on his face and John shot him a crooked smile.
"Greg." He said, hoping it would spark at least a small light of recognition. "It's John."
Greg still didn't get it and John lost patience.
"John. From eighteen years ago. You helped me when I was... We were friends, I think." John reached into his pocket and set the old pair of keys Greg had given him on the desk between them. "You gave me you keys and I..." He made a weak gesture to the keys and leaned back into his chair. "You like pizza with garlic and pepperoni, you cut your toast into sticks and like nature programmes on the telly."
_And this is a mistake, because you don't remember me._
Greg fingered the keys thoughtfully for a moment before he lifted his gaze to meet John's.
"Are you all right?" he finally asked.
"Of course I'm all right!" John bristled.
_Stupid, stupid idea._ | 25f6ab992ef64c6cba3c4ca2c89a8dff | ['bbe59f795ebc4b42b564fb53634abf76'] | Practise is a mess. Dex isn't connecting with Nursey, the rest of the team, the puck, or even the ice. First of all he keeps his head down in the changing room, barely speaking to anyone, and it really brings down the team morale. Then he slips and nearly falls over when stepping on to the rink. He keeps it together during warm-up, but then keeps missing passes and is finally told by Coach Murray to just take laps around the rink to find his focus, and more importantly, to keep out of the way of the other players, lest he cause an accident.
Nursey tries to focus on his own practice, but can only stand to watch Dex circle around them for a few minutes before he has to join him.
“Go away,” Dex growls at him but doesn’t pick up his pace to get away. Nursey takes that as half an invitation to stay. They make it halfway through another lap before Dex speaks again.
“I’m not angry at you! You were drunk and you did something stupid and you said you were sorry! I’m angry at _myself_ for wishing…”
They make another half lap before Nursey decides to push.
“You wish?”
A whole lap this time.
“I wish I hadn't stopped you,” Dex mutters at last.
Nursey grabs Dex and makes them halt in front of the boards.
“What?”
“And I’m sorry, but apparently I'm a creep who wishes he'd taken advantage of his best friend who was too drunk to know what he's doing.” Dex’s face gets more red for every word and he casts down his eyes in shame. “That's why I'm angry.”
Nursey’s head seems to be filled with molasses, because he can’t seem to make sense of what Dex is saying.
“I’m gonna need you to spell this out for me. You said ‘no’ because you didn’t want me to kiss you.”
“Noo.” Dex enounciates every word clearly. “I said ‘no’, because _you_ didn’t want to kiss _me_.”
Nursey stares at Dex in disbelief. Dex takes a deep breath, carefully exhaling through his nose before looking Nursey earnestly in the eyes.
“Nursey, I li-”
“Hey y’a-”
“BITTY WOULD YOU LEAVE US ALONE FOR ONE GODDAMN MINUTE!”
Bitty gasps with his eyes opened wide with shock. He then throws up his hands in a ‘ _Well excuuuuuse meeee’_ gesture, turns on his skates and returns to the rest of the team. Nursey’s eyes flicker between Bitty’s retreating form and a frankly wild-looking Dex.
“You just yelled at Bitty-”
“I LIKE YOU! LIKE A LOT!” Dex looks near hysterical from his outburst and Nursey is too dumbfounded by Dex’s words to do anything but smile.
Someone in the team wolf whistles and Chowder cheers loudly, but Bitty’s voice sounds clear above any other reactions from the team, ordering another set of suicides.
Nursey grabs Dex by the neck to smash their helmets together, wanting to kiss him and cursing their gear for being in the way. Their embrace turns into a happy wrestling match with pushing and shoving; a truly masculine display of redirecting tension.
They gain some distance with a final push from Dex, and Nursey leans on his stick while Dex gathers himself to refocus on their drills. They pass a puck between them before a thought occurs to Nursey.
“You realise I will have to freeze you out until you apologize to Bitty. I like you too, but not enough to sacrifice pie-privilege.”
Dex fumbles the shot to Nursey and the puck glides off towards the boards. They pause and watch the black disc slow to a halt, but jerk awake by Coach Murray’s whistle signalling the end of practice. They follow their teammates towards the exit, but not before Dex hisses out a curse of realisation.
“...Shit.”
**Author's Note:**
> psa: don't trust youtube to teach you about plumbing. |
7706f21e67eb4456b6d7531561edcacf | ['bbf47e9a87ec4af99607d7ca07ea58b9'] | “Nah, I’m good. Just thinking.” They both wait, because when Alexander has something on his mind it takes him less than five minutes to tell everyone. The boy is an oversharer. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and before I do, just so we’re perfectly clear, my thoughts and feelings for you won’t change in any way. You can be totally honest because your answer won’t-”
“Alex, get to the point, please.” The exasperation in Laurens’ voice is the result of many hours wasted on Hamilton beating around the bush.
“Did you like Eliza?” he blurts out finally.
John sure isn’t expecting that.
“Yes, of course. Still do.”
“No, I mean, really like. Like like.”
“What? No,” he says, his voice getting a bit defensive.
“It’s just. You took her side after what happened-”
“You cheated on her! Obviously I was gonna take her side.”
“So I was wondering-” Hamilton continues as if he hasn’t been interrupted. “I couldn’t help thinking... Like, if something happened.”
“No. I don’t go around comforting other people’s exes.” There’s an edge in Laurens’ words no one is used to hear.
“Okay, okay, hint taken.” Hamilton seems to be having a difficult time puting his thoughts into words, and John wonders if that’s because of the alcohol or his head.
“And it is none of your business even if I did. Not everyone writes three thousand word rants on facebook to explain their hook ups in detail.”
Hamilton looks up at him like he is about to retort but instead he slides to the cold floor and opens the toilet.
“Are you going to puke?” Laurens asks, crouching next to him. His friend shakes his head no, but he takes his hairband out of his own ponytail and quickly gathers Alexander’s long hair into a bun anyway. “Just in case.”
There are some tense seconds of silence only interrupted by the sound of Hamilton dry-heaving. Laurens rubs his back.
Finally Alexander sits back, paler than before and looking like he is about to cry.
“Do you think I’m a shitty person?”
“Well you damn sure aren’t a good one." Being honest is a bad habit sometimes, Laurens thinks, and tries yo soften his answer. “Why do you care about that, Alex? It’s never bothered you before. How was that… I don’t care what people say about me, as long as they are talking about me?”
“Yeah.” Alex whispers, his eyes fixed on the bathroom tiles. “But it’s different with you. It’s scary that you could just, I don’t know, reconsider being my friend.”
“I’m in too deep with you.”
“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks good.”
“Oh no, you’ve gone full circle. You’re at the flirty stage again.”
“We should go back to our room. Maybe we can still get some sleep. Angelica said that I have to wake you up every few hours to check you are alright,” he says, and then more to himself than to him: “I would’ve known this sort of thing if I studied medicine.”
Somehow, Hamilton hears everything and knows exactly what to say.
“You would have been a good doctor, but you’re gonna be a great human rights lawyer.” He says, and tugs at another of John’s curls. “You’re gonna become the US Attorney General and like, end institutional racism.”
Laurens smiles a bit at that while he stretches his arms over his head, and Alexander makes a superhuman effort not to stare at the few centimetres of skin he can see when the t-shirt rides up. Which is truly difficult because he has seen Laurens shirtless and his stomach is a nice balance between cute freckles and toned abs.
“But if I am Attorney general, what will you do?”
Hamilton’s attention snaps back at his words.
“Oh, I’m gonna get into politics,” he replies with as much nonchalance as he is able and pushes himself off the floor, almost sure that he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore.
“Okay, then, let’s go, Senator Hamilton.”
“I don’t think I’ll be a Senator for long. Hey. You wanna know something cool?” Alexander takes advantage of the tiny space they are sharing, throws his arms around his friend's neck tightly and presses his mouth against Laurens’ ear, who can only hold onto him so they don’t fall, and whispers, like he is sharing a secret: “I’m gonna be president of the United States.”
John grabs the edge of the sink to steady himself.
“The worst part about that statement is that I believe it.”
“You do?” Alex beams, and then gets serious in half a second, his mood changing like a light switch. “I never tell anyone that sort of thing anymore, you know? Because people thought I was a stupid kid whith stupid dreams when I said I would come to New York and get a scholarship for Columbia.”
Laurens manages to put some distance between them. He is surprised Alex is confiding in him, not because they aren't close, but because he is such an individualist. Hamilton doesn't ask for help, doesn't share his doubts, doesn't confide his troubles. So this is kind of a big deal, and John has no idea how to cheer him up, because Alexander is staring intently into his eyes like waiting for an answer.
“But you did," is the only thing he can say, and it sounds wrong to him, but his friend raises his chin proudly and says:
“Hell yes I did.”
A small grin creeps onto John's lips and the lack of space between them, that usually would feel oppressive, seems now pleasant. They are still holding onto each other and once again Alexander pulls a strand of hair until it's twice as long as usual, then releases it and watches it bounce back to its original form. No one before has touched Laurens' hair with such a pensive expression.
"Why are you so fascinated by my hair?" | f6ba617f722e4ffe9ddebb93c9076c39 | ['bbf47e9a87ec4af99607d7ca07ea58b9'] | Laurens laughs out loud at that. “Really? What type of dessert?”
“Caramel custard here,” he sais, licking the same spot in his arm he just bit. “Rice pudding with cinnamon here,” he whispers as he slides down to bite his lower stomach, right under the bellybutton, where the skin is paler but still covered in freckles, and John almost forgets how to breathe. “And sweet as honey, soft as marshmallows, John Laurens here,” he finishes, going back to his face and sucking on his lower lip.
“Bullshit, I’m not soft,” he manages to say when Alexander is done. “And you are making me hungry.”
“That’s the opposite of a problem,” Hamilton quips and taps his lips twice with a finger. John is happy to comply, but time flies when you’re having fun and they are still making out when the door opens, startling them both.
“Fuck, sorry,” says the person who just walked in, although his accent makes it sound more like fuck, soggy. “We weren’t supposed to finish the meeting yet, but it was shorter thana expected. I should have warned you.” Lafayette is standing in the doorway, wearing his uniform, unable to decide if he should stay or run away.
Hamilton gets off John and motions at Lafayette to get into the room. Which he does, but not without another round of excuses.
“Laf, it’s okay. I still have to work on these messages anyway.”
And with that it’s settled. Alexander puts on his shirt and sits in front of the computer, and Laurens is left alone painfully turned on in the cold bed. He catches Lafayette apologetic gaze and shakes his head. It’s not his fault.
Their friend sighs and starts taking off his boots. He was someone important in the French resistance, before going to America to fight with them, and everyone appreciates his pressence there. His age didn’t make him any less of a charismatic leader and great strategist. Passionate, foulmouthed, and friendlier than he looked, he had immediately clicked with Laurens and Hamilton, and turned down the option of sharing a room with some high-profile lieutenant to room with them instead. In return they took the smallest bed so he could have one for himself and tried not to bother him too much with their late-night work. On the positive side, he didn’t mind walking on them making out, although it was always embarrasing.
Laurens wraps himself in the blanket and sits down once his heart and breathing are back to normal.
“You okay?” Lafayette asks as he gets rid of his brown combat boots and dark blue jacket.
“Fine. How was the meeting?” John says as casually as possible. He even manages a polite smile.
“Same as always. Lots of complaining and no solutions.” His gaze flickers towards Hamilton. “He is not sleeping again?”
The walls in the bunker are thick and made of stone, but they are both whispering anyway.
“I’m not sure. He’s determined to decode that today, so…” John shrugs and rolls his eyes, the universal gesture of ‘who the fuck knows’.
Lafayette sits next to him. The bed, already wrecked from having two people sleeping on it every day, sinks even further under his weight.
“How about you two? Are things still… not good?”
“Bad. The word you are looking for is bad,” Laurens says and Lafayette nudges him sympathetically with his shoulder. “He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t look at me. It’s like I don’t exist.”
“That’s not what I saw before.”
“Okay. He doesn’t notice me unless we’re fucking.” John notices how his friend looks taken aback by his harsh tone. “Sorry. It’s this war. He is working all the time, stressed and…” he gestures, not sure on how to explain Alexander’s fixation with his work, with impressing the general.
“Obsessed?” Lafayette suggests and shakes his head. “From what I know, that’s not the war, is just Hamilton being Hamilton.”
“I just think we would be better if he just rested for once. We could talk. Really talk for once.”
Lafayette moves a bit closer. He is tapping his fingers on the mattress and his hair is still tied, which he hates.
“Well, I have an idea. It’s terrible, but it might work. Or he might kill me.”
“At this point I’m willing to try anything, because either he sleeps or I kill him.”
The nervous finger drumming stops. And slowly, giving him time to decide if he wants to move away, Lafayette leans in and kisses him.
He is soft, which John hadn’t expected. While Alex kisses like he is hungry, Lafayette does as if he is savoring him. Hamilton can be a great lover, he is ingenious and unpredictable and fun but also impatient and selfish, and sometimes downright rude, and John finds himself wondering how Lafayette would be in bed. He tries to push the thought out of his head. That is not happening.
The kiss ends way too soon for him and John swears at himself for spending those few seconds freaking out and comparing him to Alex instead of enjoying it. But he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying, right? It is just to make Alexander react. Anyway he finds himself desperate for keeping the feeling of the kiss, how Lafayette’s hands and nose felt cold but his tongue is so warm, and how he buried his fingers in his hair instead of pulling at it like Alex did.
Lafayette has his face really close to his. He tucks some curls behind John’s ears.
“He didn’t even notice,” he whispers. Alexander keeps typing.
“Told you.” John can’t say he is surprised. Lately Hamilton seemed to be ignoring him on purpose. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to kiss me some more.”
He tries to make it sound like a joke but his gaze is on Lafayette’s mouth and he is already tilting his chin up, and so his friend catches the not-so-subtle hints and presses their lips together again. |
44e99ca8c60a4dc795d021d6e99a7c10 | ['bbfbcee7f8cd4ca4a64a675f9c71473c'] | It was also ironic how the roles had flipped over the years. At the start it had been Madison who kept sending him letter after letter to get his attention. Looking back on it, Jefferson felt honoured his friend had gone through the effort to keep writing and trying despite his initial neglect. Now, Jefferson wondered what massive fool would ever ignore Madison for even a second. He had to smile at the memory of receiving his first letter where Madison addressed him as a friend. That was always a tricky thing with any correspondence as you could never know how they’d react to your presumptions. Jefferson had been glad Madison had made the call. Lately, he’s heard talk about how their relation was one of a pure political nature. They were wrong. True, it had been through politics that they had first met, but it hadn’t been Madison’s political stances or ideas that had drawn Jefferson to him. (At least, not at the beginning. He only learnt to fully appreciate them later and now he couldn’t imagine not asking for Madison’s view on things). The initial spark had been their shared interest in a wide variety of topics. Perhaps best summarized as books, reading them and discussing them. Jefferson felt blessed that he had met such a kindred spirit. It was great. Everything about him was great.
Madison slowly sat him down on the sofa/bed before joining him. Jefferson looked over at him, suddenly very amused by the fact that his friend barely reached his shoulders.
“How are you feeling?”
Well, great except for his stature. But even that was…
“Perfect.”
Madison looked up at him, disbelief and a hint of confusion in his eyes. Those clear blue eyes. Every time Jefferson looked into them, he simply couldn’t look away. It was like gazing at the deep blue ocean on a windless day. The more he stared, the more relaxed he began to feel. (oh yes the roles had most definitely been reversed…)
Why couldn’t they both just quit politics and spend every day like today? Jefferson would be happy with such a life, a life away from public speaking, public eyes, away from politics and all the damage it does. Politics were really bad for friendships, John Adams came to mind, but so did Hamilton. He appreciated the irony in how they both lost a friend the other utterly despised because as much as he wanted to have all his friends get along, he knew Madison’s opinion on Adams would never change for the better. Then again, neither would his opinion on Hamilton and he was glad Madison no longer associated with him. And part of him was afraid that it would end up ruining theirs as well. Another part of him, a voice at the back of his mind, was afraid it was the exact opposite. That politics was the only reason their friendship persisted. He knew that it weren’t the case for him. But Madison… he hated the mere fact that he could even think it… but sometimes he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, Madison acted distant, almost cold, and when Jefferson tried to grow closer to him, he pulled away. In those moments, the voice grew louder and he felt disappointed and strangely alone.
But then there were days like today when everything had been perfect and every doubt he had got pushed away into the dark corner of his mind again. Perhaps if they had more time, they could have more days like these. Yet Madison evaded his requests to move in with him. He didn’t even want to live on some ground next to him. Why? Did he not enjoy their time together? Was it really all pretend-?
“Thomas.” Madison’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Stop thinking and go to sleep.”
His head pounded so hard now that his vision began to blur. So he stopped thinking- just as Madison had said- and leaned over to his friend and put his head in the curve of his neck. The sudden weight unbalanced Madison and he fell back a little. Jefferson could feel him shift -he had closed his eyes to shut out the last remaining light- and for a moment he was afraid Madison would pull away and sneak from underneath him. But he merely repositioned himself. A deep sigh followed, one Jefferson couldn’t quite identify, before he felt a hand at the back of his head. It slipped through his mess of hair, entangling in it, and gently massaged his scalp as it pushed him closer. The touch was soft, comforting, familiar- A memory of another’s hand crashed into his mind but he pushed it away, redirecting his attention on Madison. He moved his head to rest on Madison’s chest and noted that the last candle’s flame had been extinguished, before closing his eyes once more.
“I’m sorry.” Jefferson whispered softly, surprised he’d actually said it out loud.
“Don’t be. It’s not something you control.”
Silence followed and Jefferson wondered whether Madison realized he hadn’t been talking about his migraine attack. You never knew with him. Banishing further thoughts from his mind, he snuggled deeper into Madison’s chest, his ear right above the other’s heart. Slow, steady, his heartbeat brought comfort to Jefferson. His breathing eased, adjusting to the rhythm, and he could feel the pain dull, if only slightly. He knew Madison would think it romantic nonsense but Jefferson genuinely felt better simply by being near him. That Madison was still there eased his worries as well. He was, above all else, a pragmatic man. Pragmatic and down-to-earth. And he knew- Jefferson didn’t doubt that he knew at all- that if he had simply left Jefferson to recover from his attack on his own, he wouldn’t consider him any less his friend. His loyalty would not waver. There was no logical reason for him to stay. And yet here he was, in the middle of the night, in a library, on a sofa/bed, with a migraine plagued man lying on his chest and with a hand still gently massaging said man’s skull.
That couldn’t be fake, right?
Jefferson smiled as he felt sleep overtake him. Perhaps he didn’t have a lot of close friends but that was fine. Be polite to all, but intimate with few, it suited him just right. After all, he had James Madison among those few and that was more than he could have ever hoped for.
**Author's Note:**
> I like to avoid physical descriptions so as not to interfere with how people imagine them but when I read that Madison had blue eyes I could not NOT mention it.
> ...to be honest I feel tempted all the time to mention Jefferson's red hair as well...
> Aesthetics, and all that.
>
> Anyway, thanks for reading! | a995c0535e23426dab772e4e97ccfb3b | ['bbfbcee7f8cd4ca4a64a675f9c71473c'] | Orchis stopped to rub a paw over his ears, wiping away the snowflakes that had piled on him during his reminiscing. He hoped it would hide his returning nervousness. Oh yes, Orchis had stood his ground against the weasel whilst his Captain had panicked and fled. He had not gotten far however. Another Patrol had caught him and Orchis had not seen him since. He didn't think he ever would again. When the Owslafa had questioned him afterwards about the event, he had regaled as much. That brief moment he had stood frozen, that shiver that ran along his spine that he could not blame n the cold; those things he neglected to tell though. After the interrogation, Captain Vervain had dismissed him to await judgement. His eyes spoke again then.
_
Well done_
Orchis wanted to believe it was pride but he felt apprehensive; afraid some of his bucks had noticed his lapse of courage, his moment of weakness, and had informed the Owslafa. Had told its Captain.
"Hurry up brother." Captain Vervain once more interrupted Orchis' thoughts. He pushed the worry aside. Clearly, things had gone well. Else he wouldn't be becoming a Captain now. He hopped over to catch up again. "Done grooming yourself for the Marker, brother?"
"Are bad jokes your new way of torturing, Captain Vervain?" Orchis responded, "Because if so, it is most effective I must say."
Vervain tried to cuff him but Orchis dodged and snickering to himself went to get his Mark.
~~
It would seem he was still a tad naive.
Part of Orchis had thought that it wouldn't hurt as much this time; that surely the Marker would go easy on a Captain. If anything, it was the exact opposite. Agonizingly slowly the Marker carved along Orchis' left front leg. He made no new Mark; he followed the old one. Long ago healed flesh was ripped open anew. He went deep; deeper than the first time and Orchis could feel the fresh blood stream along his leg. Yet once again Orchis did not scream; did not even flinch. His jaw clenched; his body screamed out at him to run away; to save it from this agony. Orchis didn't budge. All the while he kept his gaze locked on Captain Vervain who stared back unblinkingly. When it was over, Orchis looked down at the Marker and smiled. A surge of satisfaction coursed through him when he saw the slightly unsettled look he got in return.
_Well done_
Orchis did not want to see those red eyes for confirmation so he simply congratulated himself. As he hopped away, Captain Vervain stopped him, "Don't stay in today." The words left Orchis puzzled but he had no chance to ask more for the other was gone. Obediently, Orchis made his way outside to his Mark. He did a tour, checking each rabbit and gave some quick instructions to his sergeants. His leg throbbed and each hop took more effort than it should but if any rabbit noticed they were smart enough to remain quiet. He was Captain now; he would not tolerate insubordination or ridicule. Ah what a nice thing power was!
Still, the blood on his leg was still fresh and he would prefer to wash it off before it dried up completely so once his immediate duty was taken care of, he returned to his secluded spot to groom. He picked an unsoiled spot of snow and sat down to lick the blood off. Frith barely gave off any warmth this season so Orchis figured it would indeed not be such a bad idea to stay outside. Inside, dust and other dirt could potentially enter the wound and infect it again. Orchis wanted to prevent that at all costs so he fervently licked on. The pain didn't lessen all that much -perhaps he ought to have been gentler- but at least it would be clean.
"I thought you might be here again." The snow crunched underneath Vervain's paws as he joined Orchis."I have orders for you."
Orchis' small ears perked up at that. He sat up straighter, giving him his full attention now that he knew it was official Owlsafa business that had brought Vervain here.
"You are to lead a patrol to check on the area where you were attacked. The General wants to make sure the _elil_ have gotten the message."
"The... message?" Orchis asked a bit uncertainly. "That we are the _elil_ here?"
Captain Vervain nodded stiffly. Orchis returned the gesture, realizing he might have to fight the weasel again. This time he would not freeze for even a moment. "I will leave at once."
"No." Orchis stopped mid-hop at Vervain's words. "Tomorrow." His eyes flickered to Orchis' freshly cleaned Mark. A silence fell over them during which Vervain simply kept staring. Orchis was unsure what to do. He had come here to hide his pain from the other rabbits but simply leaving seemed rude. His leg throbbed; he shifted it uneasily. He decided to turn around so Vervain was on his right and couldn't see the wound any more.
Without warning, Vervain nudged him, firmly but for him oddly gently. Completely taken by surprise, Orchis stumbled and fell to his side. He blinked once, twice, as his brain progressed what had happened. He moved to get up but a paw firmly pressed him back down, holding him into place. Orchis craned his neck to look up at Vervain and for a moment a chilling fear gripped him: had he somehow failed him? Had he found out about his hesitation after all?
_"Well done"_
Those words echoed in his mind, taunting except- Vervain's mouth had moved and his crimson eyes shone like Frith on summer eve. Orchis didn't know what to say so he simply blinked again, to his brother's apparent amusement. Vervain lifted his paw off him.
"I'm proud of you, Captain Orchis."
And with that he hopped off. Orchis lay there for a few seconds longer before he realized how ridiculous he must look, lying around in the snow like a shot rabbit. He scrambled up and as he did he suddenly noticed something, or rather a lack of something. His left leg felt frozen, chilled, but the pain had vanished. Orchis stared at the mark; then shook himself to get the snow off his fur.
_Thank you, brother_.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
>
> USER~ |
8e8c0b9209a6430e8eb495d21fbabff8 | ['bc11abf069cc4f67840f668abc1ff656'] | "Well headmaster" Takamichi said putting a cigarette in his mouth, "You've certainly done it now; a mafia boss is coming to Mahora whether we like it or not now."
_Yes, Vongola Decimo is coming to Mahora_
2. Foundations
**Chapter 2 Setting the Foundations**
**_4:37 a.m. In a castle outside Palermo, Italy_ **
* **BOOOM!***
"GODDAMMIT STUPID COW IT'S TOO DAMN EARLY FOR THIS SHIT!"
"SHUT UP MONKEY, YOUR SCREAMING IS CAUSING MORE NOISE THAN ANY OF US!"
"GUYS BE QUIET TSUNA HAS TO WAKE UP IN A FEW MINUTES!"
"SHUT UP BASEBALL IDIOT, IT'S THIS DEVIL WOMAN MAKING ALL THE NOISE!"
' _ **BOOOOOOOOM!'**_
"DAMMIT STUPID COW I SAID IT'S TOO FUCKING EARLY"
" **EXTREME EARLY MORNING SHOUTING CONTEST!"**
" _ **SHUT UP RYOHEI/TURFTOP/IDIOT!"**_
' _One day'_ , one Tsunayoshi Sawada thought to himself dead eyed as he stared at the _criminally_ small numbers on his alarm clock, ' _God as my witness, one day I WILL snap, and I **will** murder every last one them in THEIR sleep.'_
Because _of course_ after his friends had gotten the idea to throw him a farewell party (the night before he had to be up at **5 a.m.** to take a flight to one of the most important meetings of his career) that lasted till past midnight, AND he'd had to stay up an extra two hours to arrange for the damages they had all drunkenly incurred to be taken care of; they would no doubt decide to wake him up a good thirty minutes early with their arguing.
_Of Course_.
Judging by the slight slur in Hana's voice, Takeshi's unnecessary volume when telling them to be quiet, and Ryohei's Ryohei-ness, they likely hadn't slept the alcohol out of their system. This left no excuse for Lambo, who was a child and kept firmly away from alcohol, nor for Hayato who would be at this meeting with him and like Tsuna had abstained from drinking last night.
But then again Hayato was operating on just as little sleep, and he had an idea of why little adopted brother was deliberately being such a brat to explode, whatever it was he was exploding to make that unnecessary noise.
Letting out a defeated groan, Tsuna pulled himself into a sitting position, idly noting the presence of his other two adopted siblings who had snuck into bed with him for his final night in Italy for the foreseeable future.
A small smile twitched especially at little Fuuta's presence, the boy was fourteen closing quickly on fifteen; the young man had told him not two years ago (quite passionately at that) that he was too big to sleep in his brother's bed anymore, and would not do so again. This was maybe the eighth time he'd broken his promise this year.
Little I pin laid (somehow) scrunched up underneath him, her elbow digging into the older boy's neck; neither seemed to notice or care, sleeping through the _still going on_ chaos happening outside of the room.
Pressing a fond kiss to both of their heads, _this would be the last time he'd be seeing them for a while_ , he got up and got dressed in the suit and tie that had been laid out for him the night before.
" _Hss_ " he let out a small hiss when his shirt rubbed against his newest in a long line of scars across his chest.
It was still a little sensitive to the silky material most of his clothes were made out of, and to think Big Brother Dino kept trying to get him to get some tattoos. Why on earth would he willingly stab himself with a needle to create a fancy shaped wound he wouldn't be allowed to heal with Flame Power?
Before stepping out to greet the chaos that was his Famiglia, he saw a blue flashing light on his phone indicating a message. Tsuna grabbed at it seeing it was a message from his **Chief** **Adviser** and former home tutor, **Reborn**. With a raised eyebrow he read the last-minute advice from the man who'd made him who he was today, only to deadpan a second later.
_{Message Sent Today 3:58 a.m._
_Sender: The Demon_
' _Dame-Tsuna I know it's your want to do, but don't fuck up your meeting._
_If you make the Vongola look bad I'll hunt you down and kill you._
_Signed World's Greatest Hitman Reborn' }_
Tsuna stared at the message with a bland face as his tutor pretty much made it apparent he expected Tsuna to fail; he'd even added a set of nonstandard emoji miming Tsuna being shot in the head, all ending with his signature arrogant title.
"Asshole" he muttered
_***** _ _**Bling, Bling*** _
New Message
Tsuna blinked at tapped the message when he saw it was from Reborn again.
_{Message Sent Today 4:48 a.m._
_Sender: The Demon_
' _For calling me an asshole your training will be upped 3x'}_
' _Is there a listening device on my phone?'_ Tsuna thought, not putting it past his sadist adviser
_***Bling, Bling*** _
New Message
_{Message Sent Today 4:49 a.m._
_Sender: The Demon_
' _No listening devices you're just easy to read Dame-Tsuna'}_
"How would you even know what my face is like!?" Tsuna yelled at the phone
_***Bling, Bling*** _
New Message
_{Message Sent Today 4:50 a.m._
_Sender: The Demon_
' _I'm the World's Greatest Hitman'}_
_'Are the capital letters really needed?'_ Tsuna thought, not even phased by arrogant response
_***Bling, Bling*** _
New Message
_{Message Sent Today 4:50 a.m._
_Sender: The Demon_
' _YES, THEY ARE NEEDED'}_
"NOW YOU'RE JUST SHOWING OFF!" Tsuna yelled at the phone
"Oi, Sawada, you sound like you're awake in there?" He heard a voice coming from outside the door, and sighed putting his phone away,
"Yeah, I'm coming now Hana"
When Tsuna stepped outside the door, it was to the controlled chaos that was Vongola HQ. | cddd17a0a19045ffb152db965a9b342a | ['bc11abf069cc4f67840f668abc1ff656'] | "Thank you" Vongole' said with a nod, his expression not leaning one way or another to the nature of the news, "It seems I have some pressing engagements to take care of tonight, as apparently do you."
Before anyone could ask what that meant, the room was filled with a piercing scream of Miss Einstein
"ZERO!"
"Well it was wonderful to meet you all", Vongole' continued obviously ignoring the commotion as he and his men began to make their way to the door, "Zero, your highness… _Ms. Croomy_ "
With that the man smoothly made his exit, no one else able to make any protests with Einstein's sudden appearance.
' _It was wonderful to meet you too, Mr. Vongole''_
**Adjective:** Masked Tsuna
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This can be a Part One I suppose, though I wouldn't hold my breath if anybody requests a Part Two soon; I really only made it for the conversation between two geniuses that wear literal and figurative masks and a Tsuna who masks are useless on. Tsuna doesn't have Geass or Dying Will Flames.
3. A:TLA Part One
**Avatar The Last Airbender: Prologue**
Peace shattering squeals and high pitched shrieks of young children echoed across a warm tropical beach, as the sun slowly began to set in the distance.
An old man on a beach chair a few yards away soaked it all in, allowing a rare smile to spread across his otherwise permanently surly features.
(Not at the loud noise, no that irritated him)
No, he was smiling as he watched the culmination of almost ten years of planning run across the sand trying to tackle each other.
"Too slow, boys" said a bratty showoff voice of a little girl in a red bathing suit, as she smirked arrogantly at her two companions
"Sh-she's r-really fast" panted a little boy in brown trunks, from where he lay panting in the sand
"Don't give up Tuna Fish" came the aggravated voice of the oldest, a tall boy of eight, as he looked down on the collapsed brunette.
"Calling me that doesn't make me want to move _Zuzu_ " the slightly younger boy groused, using the others own embarrassing nickname
"Dissension among the ranks already?" came the condescending _high pitched_ voice of the _six year old_ girl, "-sigh- Males, so useless"
"Shut up _Azzie_ " 'Zuzu' sneered at the girl who sneered back, "C'mon Tsuna, you always get tired!"
"And trip, and get scared, and fall asleep first" 'Azzie' helpfully added, while Tsuna piteously pouted
"I didn't fall asleep first last time!" the boy protested, "That was Zuko!"
"That's because Azula poisoned me!" the older boy said pointing accusingly at the younger girl, who'd crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the accusatory finger
"You just got sick because you were trying to eat more cookies than everyone else Dum Dum, I had nothing to do with it" Azula answered condescendingly, something her brother obviously disagreed with and was about to retort when the third interrupted.
"Lie" came the quiet voice of the little boy on the ground; the slightly monotone certainty in his voice cut through all argument.
The old man who had been observing the exchange leaned forward, unable to keep his interest at bay, especially when the other two children took his word as some kind of final unquestionable verdict.
Zuko immediately turned a triumphant look at his little sister and gave a vindicated 'Ha', while Azula for her part merely scowled darkly, not even attempting to defend herself further.
"Whatever" Azula grumbled unhappy
"No whatever!" Zuko immediately returned to being enraged after his brief moment triumph,
_The boy had far too much of his great grandfather's temper- Sozin could burn the world with his sudden rages_ ,
"We're telling mother and father that you tried to kill me."
"I didn't try to kill you idiot" the girl hissed, sounding _exactly_ like her grandmother Ilah before she fried some moron that had tested the limits of her patience, "It was just a little fun."
"What kind of crazy person finds poisoning people fun!?" Zuko cried incredulously
"I do, obviously" Azula said sounding scornful, cruel, and condescending at once, and that was all Ozai right there.
"Lie" came the same quiet interruption before Zuko could explode; once more young Tsuna had taken over the flow of the entire argument between two prideful royals with a single word, not unlike Timoteo in fact.
Both kids turned to their companion who looked at them with a disturbingly calm face, his dragon gold eyes looking disturbingly orangish in the setting sun.
"Didn't you guys go see Love Amongst The Dragons before I got here Zuko." Tsuna asked the older boy, who dumbly nodded, waiting to hear if Tsuna would elaborate
"Yeah, they completely butchered Princess Rayko's character, and missed her core drive for why she was starting her revolution in the first place." Zuko answered sounding just as unduly aggravated as his mother who had dragged the entire family to see the play every year, even if she spent the whole time critiquing it.
"Dork" Azula mumbled
Zuko glared
"Isn't that the story where the princess loses her father the second prince to poisoning?" Tsuna asked
"Yeah" Zuko drew out looking at his sister suspiciously who was pouting defiantly at the other boy sitting in the sand
"Isn't it possible to build up immunity to poisons if you take smaller dozes slowly over time?" Tsuna asked not taking his eyes off of the little princess
"…Azula?" Zuko questioned looking less suspicious and more surprised
"What" she hissed curtly, still not looking at her brother
"Did you put poison in Zuko's cookies to build up his immunity because you were worried about him being taken away from you?" Tsuna asked a small twitch at his lips
"No, why would I-" but her answer was interrupted |
194c5b6eb04d44ddbc8590fc915b3388 | ['bc134c9ee5cb4d599c3d149a7f920f5c'] |
(One of the) God(s) is a Woman (HTTYD)
**2 Weeks after the defeat of the alpha**
**Berk**
The skies were dark, like granite, and the thunder and lightning were getting closer and closer to Berk. It hadn't started to rain yet, but it looked like it could begin any minute now. Yet something looked off about this lightning, the crash was much louder than normal, and it held more of a blue color than gray.
Astrid Hofferson sat upon her Deadly Nadder, Stormfly. Her eyes were trained on the storm.
"Hiccup, could it be the Skrill?"
She had just finished helping the others secure Berk for the oncoming storm, that might not be a storm at all.
"It looks like it, but it doesn't make any sense." Hiccup had an uneasy twist in his stomach, and Toothless was growling beneath him.
"What does, son?"
Looking behind him, Valka walked up, Cloudjumper following after her. Hiccup felt he would never get used to calling her mom, as guilty as that made him feel.
"We think there's a Skrill in that storm, but it doesn't make sense. We're on good terms with the Skrill."
Valka scrutinized the storm as well before a smile broke out on her face.
"I only know of one Skrill in the archipelago, and if this is him, you're in for a surprise."
The rest of the Dragon Riders met up with them on the hill, including Eret, son of Eret, on Skullcrusher.
Valka's voice cut through the air as the thunder got louder; "Prepare to meet the strongest woman I've ever met."
All of the riders jumped back in surprise as lightning struck about 20 feet away from them, and then struck the exact same spot once more. They pretended to ignore the fact that Snotlout Jorgenson just screamed like a little girl. Once the smoke cleared a figure stood from the smoke, their long, dark, wavy hair billowing behind them in the wind, and icy blue eyes that cut right through the smoke as they scanned each of the riders, before locking on Valka.
"Valka!" The voice shouted.
_Definitely female._ Fishlegs Ingerman noted, on top of his Gronkle, Meatlug.
Before any of them could react the woman began running towards them, not sparing a glance at the other riders before jumping on Valka, arms around her neck in a tight hug.
**Iona's PoV**
I held Valka tight, my mouth right next to her ear, my word muffled from how close we were.
"I came as soon as I heard what happened. I'm so sorry." Praying she could hear the sincereity in my voice, I held her tighter.
"It's alright Iona-" I haven't heard her voice in so long, I can feel my chest tighten with giddiness. "-there's nothing you could've done."
I pulled back to look her in the eyes, arms length away. "But I should've been there. I should've helped!"
Her eyes softened and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips, like a mother trying to console their child. "There's no way you could've arrived on time even if I did notify you. It all happened too fast." She cut me off before I could say anything more. "You're already doing so much to help me."
"Mom?" A voice sounded from behind me, the single word held a question.
Mulling it over in my head I thought for a second. _Mom..._ I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at Valka before turning to look at the boy who looked so much like his mother.
"Is this... Hiccup?"
A hearty laugh sounded from behind me as she moved to stand beside him, happy wrinkles by her eyes.
"Indeed it is."
I ran a hand down my face, shaking my head.
"Of all the times you spoke about him... It never occurred to me that 20 years had passed... he'd be an adult now..." I laughed at my own foolishness before scanning the rest of the faces in the crowd.
An assortment of expressions, most of them wonder or alarm, all of them directed at me.
"Everyone, this is Iona the Unmovable, my... protege. Iona, this is Hiccup my son, and his friends Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Eret. And this is Toothless, Hiccups-"
"A Night Fury!" I gasped as I hessitantly held my hand out, allowing him to sniff it before running it up and down his sleek black snout. "But I thought you said there weren't any left!"
Both Valka and Hiccup opened their mouth to respond, but the one called Snotlout interrupted.
"Woah, woah, woah! Hold up! Are we not gonna address the zippleback in the room- no offense."
"None taken." Replied the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut; though I have no idea which is which.
"How did you get here?! Did you- what, ride the lightning?!"
I heard Valka chuckle as a smirk crossed my face.
"No! You idiot!" The more feminine voice of the twins spoke.
"She's obviously Thor!"
"But Thor's a man!" The other twin piped in.
"How do you know? Did he tell you?"
Her brother remained silent.
"Exactly."
I laughed lightly, recapturing everyone's attention.
"I didn't ride the lightning, and no, I'm not Thor." I heard the twins grunts of disappointment. "My skrill, Obsidian, drops me off before taking flight again. He rides the lightning, not me."
Fishlegs stepped forwards, clearly excited to learn more about my skrill. "Why doesn't he stay on the ground?"
I winced and rubbed the back of my neck. "On the ground, he's a little..." I struggled to find the right word.
"Excited?"
"Deadly?!"
"Brings chaos and destruction?!"
"Stupid." I corrected, glancing towards the sky and praying I wouldn't get struck by lightning for saying that.
"What?"
Valka stepped in for me. "Skrill's aren't very agile on the ground. Clumsy describes it better than stupid." She sent me a pointed, yet humored look.
"Wait, I'm sorry. Who are you exactly? How did you meet? And why are you here?" The girl, Astrid, jumped down from her dragon.
She seemed... defensive.
"I'm Iona Yver, of the Dagonfut tribe, far west of here. I shipwrecked years ago and Valka- you're mother, saved me. I lived with her, and trained with her for 3 years before she sent me off to take care of something. I'm here because I heard about what happened, and because I need your help." | 39953ded9be64fd484a78364bb31aab6 | ['bc134c9ee5cb4d599c3d149a7f920f5c'] |
Nightlight (Jason Todd/Reader)
**October**
Normally, when someone wakes up in a pile of money, covered in cuts and bruises and dried blood, they panic. But not you, not anymore at least.
Sure 3 weeks ago you would've panicked, but a lot's changed in 3 weeks.
For instance, you lost your job (it was at a shitty diner anyways), your rent went up, you're failing a class, one of your brothers need's you to post their bail (You've already let him stew in county jail for a few days), oh and how could you forget? You got mugged, stabbed, almost died, which triggered your meta-gene to awaken, and now your Dissociative Identity Disorder (which you spent years getting under control) is critical to the point where you go completely crazy at night and commit atrocities. Yea, not much would make you panic these days, except-OHMYGOD WHO'S THAT GUY?!
The sudden weight of an arm around your waist as you lie in your money staring at the ceiling, made you panic. God, you hope you didn't sleep with him, he looks like a bum. You threw yourself onto the floor as fast as possible and scrambled to your feet, grabbing the baseball bat you kept by your bed in case of emergencies. This was an emergency.
"Um, hello?" You watched him groggily open his eyes. "Yes, hi, who the fuck are you? Why are you in my bed?"
He seemed startled for a second before chuckling and sitting up. "Man, you really weren't lying."
Your eyes narrowed as you raised your bat threateningly.
His hands flew up in defense. "Chill out lady! Look, last night you paid me to help you carry all the cash back to your place. Said I could stay the night, but you also said you wouldn't remember any of this in the morning."
You grit your teeth in annoyance, muttering under your breath. "That bitch. Okay, get up- put your shirt on- and get out! Now!"
"Don't you at least want to know my name?"
"NO! GET! OUT!" You could feel your face burning from anger and embarrassment.
***
"Good morning!"
You grunted at your bother (the one who isn't in jail) as you rested your head on the table in the corner of the cafe.
"Someone had fun last night, you were all over the news. Heard you even got in a fight with Batman!"
You let out a sad sounding whimper as you lifted your head. "For the last time Aaron, it wasn't me. It was her, Nightlight!"
Aaron winced when he saw your face. Due to your nightly activities and your classes during the afternoon, you were only getting about 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night, if that. The result was dark bags under your eyes. Plus the dark bruise by your hairline and cut in your eyebrow, you knew you looked like shit.
"Yea, well, you're the one suffering from her actions."
"You think I don't know that?" You whisper-shouted, as to not attract the attention of the others in the cafe. "Look at this!"
Lifting your shirt, you showed him the bat-shaped welt/bruise on your hip.
"Holy shit!" Aaron covered his mouth, in an attempt to cover the huge grin on his face, coughing to cover his laughter when he saw the scowl on your face.
You sighed and changed the subject. "Look, I'm gonna go bail out Dumbass today, wanna come with?"
"Bail him out? I didn't even know he was arrested, but that would explain why he wasn't returning my calls or texts. I thought he was just being a moody bitch."
"Yea no, he got caught breaking and entering-"
"Meanwhile, you never get caught." The snide tone of his voice made your jaw clench.
"Shut up."
The bell on the door rung followed by a group of arguing boys walking in.
"You _know_ that wasn't my fault"
"Really? You're the one who 'slipped' coming down the stairs."
"Guys shut up, we're indoors."
Aaron grunted and rolled his eyes, nodding his head in their direction before lowering his voice.
"Those are Bruce Wayne's sons."
You looked over your shoulder at the 3 boys, they all had black hair and pale skin. One was taller than the other two, looking to be in his mid to late twenties, the other looked like a high schooler and the last like a middle schooler.
"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"
"Because they're stuck up rich kids, yea Bruce Wayne has all these charities and shit, but his kids just take advantage of his generosity."
You snorted, "You sound like you've got a hard-on for Bruce Wayne-" Aaron slammed his fist down on your palm to shut you up as the Wayne boys walked past and you cursed, kicking him under the table. "Asshole."
After a few more minutes of eavesdropping on the Wayne boys, you remembered what you were talking about earlier.
"Look, the county jail is a 45-minute drive, and I don't have a car."
"Oh, so that's why you met me for coffee."
You puckered your lips and looked off to the side. "Maybe so," Aaron chuckled and rolled his eyes, and you laughed along with him. "Nonetheless, we've gotta bail that dumbass out."
"He always did take after dad."
You snorted and stood from your seat, grabbing your black leather jacket and placing some singles on the table for a tip. "Shut up, we all take after dad."
***
The bailout process is long and boring. Multiple times Aaron had to tap your arm to wake you up. Finally, after 3 hours, your older brother (Aaron's twin) Seamus was free and coming home with you.
"Why'd it take you so goddamn long! I called you days ago!"
"Oh, MY BAD! I should've put _my_ entire life on hold to come _all_ the way out here, and spend _my_ money to bail _your_ fucking dumbass out!" |
9e3f8bd758ce4cdb9999e584a542f0b9 | ['bc25f47a629c4a0a8dda4872fddad39a'] |
1. Chapter 1
Awaking to the white lights that blared holes into his eyes, ever since he was young Akuta had been raised in the hospital. He had a multitude of physical ailments that impacted the way he worked.
He was fine for the first bit of his life, in elementary school he was relatively normal, he had the occasional chest and stomach pains, but he concluded that it was normal. He was a bookworm, and most of the time if you couldn’t find him he’d be in the library reading. He excelled in his reading and writing courses, and he was not the most optimistic of people, but all in all he was content with his life. After all there were thousands of books that he had yet to read.
When reading at home he had his black cat accompany him by the windowsill, and sometimes during dark starry nights, he blended in with the background and eyes looked like stars.
Then middle school hit.
“Teacher? May I go to the bathroom?” Akuta asked, he wasn’t really all too shy. Of course asking a question to leave did make him anxious, just worrying that the words he said would never be right. His anxiety was horrible anyway, and he would pick at his skin, especially his neck, legs, and other miscellaneous places.
Despite his talent in writing he constantly doubted himself, and would endlessly revise and rework even the simplest of concepts.
He anxiously walked through the halls, he had had a few times like this before, where it felt as if the halls were going round and round. The words he said and the noises he heard, something it just, didn’t feel right. This feeling kept him up at night and it was a nightmarish world to live in.
He stumbled in the bathroom, trying to stay upright as much as possible, this seemed like more of a challenge than anything ever felt in his life. He just wanted another life and to travel the world. He wanted some sort of peace. Peace? Was that even going to be possible if this feeling kept up? Would anyone take him how he is? He was feeling some type of way, and he hated it.
He got into the stall and began to puke, until his vision went out and his body collapsed on the floor of the bathroom.
Not too long later, a boy discovered him laying on the ground and called for a teacher. That caused him to go into the first hospital he had to be in, he had to get an Electrocardiogram, blood tests, X-rays, Coronary Computed Tomography Angiogram, and had to have his blood pressure constantly monitored. He felt horrible.
He wasn’t used to the atmosphere, the metal clanging all around him, hearing patients getting rushed all around. He was fine with being in the hospital but he didn’t necessarily enjoy it. Everything just felt so mellow and plain. On the upside, he got more time to write and at least that could take his mind off of it.
He knew the results were going to come in, in a few hours and he was perfectly fine with waiting. He just assumed that it was nothing major, and that this was a standard routine.
He wrote more and more, page after endless page. He wrote stories about princesses, demons, love stories, tragedies, and all the like. What should’ve taken what he thought would be a day, ended up being months. Day in, day out. Time flied, and it felt so abnormal and oddly paced.
It seemed more so that his parents were hiding something from him. He didn’t know what, but he didn’t feel the need to pressure them or cause an unneeded fuss. What a mistake. So, he waited until he heard the news.
His stress was getting the worst of him, he began to pick at his skin until he bled. It got worse as each timeless day flew buy. The nurses having to patch him up. They were sympathetic for him and would bring him new books. They were kind, and super encouraging. Although he was lonely, the books filled him ever-growing void. It made him feel something.
Until he heard the news.
He needed a heart transplant. Organ rates were already so low, especially in Japan, the donation rate is only .7% nonetheless, finding someone who had the same size organ as he did and the change that it’s a proper match.
Soon, he spiraled into a depression.
2. Maybe There is Hope
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> He's sad and escapes for a little bit
Akuta felt like everything had lost its purpose. His writing, although he was uninterested in it, still prospered. He stopped eating, he stopped taking care of himself. After all, he was just a middle schooler and was having his life ripped out of his hands at full throttle. He wanted to go back to those fun times when he was in the library and reading.
That’s when he thought of it- escaping this prison and going to the library. It wasn’t too far after all. But, he had been picking at his skin, his arms and legs- so he just was sort of in his own personal purgatory. His skin bled and it was painful, his hope had run a flatline but he truly believed that he could change it all. That somehow, even though it was only a child’s dream, maybe visiting the library would cure him. He knew it was dumb, he had faced the harsh cold reality, but a kid was allowed to dream. | c978ef6edbe84f1a8917790c5546618b | ['bc25f47a629c4a0a8dda4872fddad39a'] | He wished that somehow his potential in writing would cure him. Truly, he just wished he wasn’t in his body. As a boy, he just was scared. Scared that he wouldn’t have someone to love, or that he wouldn’t stay in tact. He wanted to live in the reality that his mind had made for him. But now, he didn’t feel worth it. So, his self-loathing began.
He knew that going out, even for a bit, was better than not doing anything at all. Akuta’s mind was going a mile a minute, he was unbelievably stressed.
But he made a plan.
Morning hit, it was almost time for the night nurses to leave and have the other nurses come and do their morning check-ups.
He changed into normal clothes and when he saw the nurses gone, he strided right on out, until he reached the library. Sanctuary. He was so excited. He may have been fourteen, almost fifteen but that didn’t stop his childlike excitement when entering. Though, he made sure not to openly show that.
He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to read. With everything he had written, and not yet published, he never really had one thing he loved to read. So he browsed up and down the aisles, until bumping into a girl reading a shoujo manga.
“Ah, sorry,” Akuta meekly said. He hadn’t had any socialization outside of nurses in months, so he was less than confident in his speech.
“It’s fine,” the girl was chipper, and this was nice to have, after being away from people for so long, he didn’t really realize how much he missed this. This… These interactions and feelings. Due to this, he wanted to keep the conversation going as long as possible. He didn’t like to be so selfish but he hadn’t felt such a rush of endorphins in so long.
“Uh- what are you reading?”
“Oh this is Basket of Fruit, a story about guys who when they get hugged turn into an animal correlating with their zodiac- and a girl accidentally meets them and it’s just, a good story.”
“Hmm, sounds interesting…”
“You’re not much of a talker huh? My name is Sakura Yunoki, nice to meet you,” She smiled and held out her hand to him.
“Oh I’m, uh, Akuta Kamome…” He awkwardly shook her hand. He was rather lanky and his hands were skinny and unhealthily pale as well as cold. Much to his surprise, she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest and actually smiled.
“You look familiar… I wonder why. Well, I must be on my way, I hope to see you again Akuta,” she smiled and left.
He stood and was dumbfounded. He didn’t know what shifted in his mind but things felt better.
He stood in front of the shoujo manga section for a while before choosing to get some of the Basket of Fruit series. He had been getting non-stop calls, so with this he signed out with the books and left to the hospital. He may not have done much or even do the things that he wanted, but he was happy either way.
Returning to the hospital, he got an earful from the nurses and doctor, but even so, he was content with his day.
Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/N If you didn't notice, "Basket of Fruit" Is just a spinoff of Fruits Basket
**Author's Note:**
> A/N This is my first ever public writing, it's short but I hope whomever stumbles upon this enjoy it |
8d611b629ff14bdf95f3afec09ce8b48 | ['bc3408123dcb49b1a0bb0c8102f4cdeb'] |
happy accident
**Author's Note:**
> i don't know what au this is either. i don't even think this is how merlin was recruited (i have a whole fic exploring merlin and that bits already written, so stay tuned) i just thought the idea was so funny and i had to do it to em.
It was a simple, stupid mistake, Merlin's finger slipping up on his keyboard and accidentally alerting the bank about just how deep into their security system he was. He couldn't run, not when the police are so close by, and he could only take on a few cops before he would just be extending his jail sentence. The man in his ear screams at him that he better not give them up and he's not getting any money, and despite the panic rising in his throat, he promises not to say a word and hangs up the call. On the smaller laptop screen he watches the police cars closer and estimates he has about two minutes. Hidden compartments are popped open and anything revealing who hired him and all stolen hi-tech gear gets stashed away in their normal spots. Merlin curses under his breath and gives himself a few more seconds by flipping a few stoplights before slamming his laptop shut and tucking it away in the compartment under his desk. He shakes his hands out, sits back down and pretends to be unaware of the situation, and doesn't flinch when his dingy apartment door gets kicked down.
They almost don't offer him a phone call. Hacking into a high-security bank is in no means a typical occurrence (that the police force knows about) and it's clear the station doesn't quite know what to do with him. Merlin has tailored his documents after every one of his infractions, yet he can't help the niggling fear that he forgot something. He knows he hasn't, he never has, but then again...
"I believe I am allowed to tell someone where I am." The officer scowls at him and Merlin's face remains neutral, which only pisses him off more.
It's a number that he's never tried before, never dared to even think about it, but he doesn't have many other options. Family has been at the back of his mind for most of his life by now, but really, what other option does he have? Maybe he won't even say he's in jail. He can make amends, or at least, try to with such a short amount of time.
One ring. "How did you get this number?" is the first thing said, in a calm, British man's voice. Well. That can't be right.
" _Shit._ I'm sorry, I guess my mother changed her number." What the hell is _wrong_ with him today? He's never been this off his game.
"Oh. Alright then. Well, have a nice day."
"Wait wait wait--" Merlin cuts in too loudly, glancing around to make sure no one's looking at him. "I've gotten myself in a bit of trouble and I don't want to waste this call. You don't happen to know a lawyer, do you?"
"May I ask who this is?"
He doesn't know why he feels compelled to tell the whole story, but he does. Tells this mysterious wrong number about what he did to get stuck in jail, the things the police don't know, his full, real name, and finishing it all with, "Most people call me Merlin."
"Well, Merlin," the man says, and the calmness of his voice almost makes Merlin believe he's not actually in that much trouble, "I think I can help you out."
"Are you a lawyer?" Merlin knows the answer, can tell that this man is withholding information. But then again, so is he.
"Not exactly. My name's Harry, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. So, are you coming to bail me out? Or do you know a guy?"
"I'll be over in a few minutes."
The line goes dead, and Merlin's mind spins as he tries to comprehend what just happened. True to his word, a mere two minutes after Merlin is escorted back to a holding cell, he is beckoned out and toward a room with a man he can only assume is Harry inside. He's dressed to the nines, a black bespoke suit the nicest thing Merlin's seen inside a police station in a very long time. The police officer who guided him in looks wary at Harry's existence, and she hesitates a moment before turning and leaving. As Merlin takes his seat, Harry stands from his, and Merlin sees the security camera in the upper corner's light go out.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Harry Hart, one of the Kingsman agents who have been watching you for quite some time. I admit, this is not the ideal recruitment situation, but it will have to do."
"I don't understand."
"Nor do I expect you to, Hamish. Kingsman is a private intelligence service founded by rich snobs who lost their heirs after World War I. I understand this is a lot of information to take in, but as of late our top tech wizard has been aching to retire and we have been keeping tabs on those who seem promising around the area. You, Merlin, are our top contender."
Merlin remains quiet for a few moments, searching the man's rather handsome face for something that might betray him. He's armed, wearing shoulder holsters (Merlin can tell by the way he stands, his arms tucked into his pockets a little awkwardly, ready to reach for one if Merlin tries to jump), and everything about his demeanor screams trained agent, from the perfectly coiffed hair down to the immaculate shoes. "And I get out of jail and my slate wiped clean?"
"If you are to join Kingsman, you will have to dedicate fully to it. There will be no record of your person outside of the Kingsman facilities." | 982b059687fb4dfeadee0b0eda1954ad | ['bc3408123dcb49b1a0bb0c8102f4cdeb'] | Harry leans his head back more to try and make eye contact with Merlin, but Merlin’s still watching the remains of smoke wisp away into the darkness above him. “Why not?”
“Never been one for decorating.”
“I can help if you want.” Merlin finally lifts his head and looks at Harry, something heavy and _ tired _ in his eyes.
“I have so much other work to do. Maybe someday.”
Harry hums and watches Merlin as the latter lets his head fall back against the arm of the couch, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and taking a long, slow drag.
“I have so much shit to do,” Merlin mutters on the exhale, and Harry can’t help but chuckle at it. When Harry doesn’t respond, Merlin shuts his eyes and ashes the cigarette off to the side of the couch.
“ _ Fuck _ .”
It takes close to a month, but he gets used to it. The heavy workload feels like a burden he was meant to carry. He learns the hard way to keep a second bottle of pills in his desk, after staying the night and being confused when all his tasks take double the time and it’s near impossible to stop moving. He’s thankful it was a simple mission he could hand off to someone below him, although explaining to Harry both why he left and his ADHD diagnosis was something he could have lived without for a little while longer. The new recruitment exercises get finalized, the glasses get updated to where Merlin wants them, Kingsman as a whole is bustling with a new and improved energy.
Harry swipes his clipboard one day, leaned against the side of his desk, pushing Merlin away with one hand and scrolling through the schedule with another.
“Your schedule makes me want to claw my eyes out.” He holds the clipboard out and Merlin yanks it from him, sitting back down in his chair.
“What’s it to you?”
“How do you have time to...exist?”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”
“Need I remind you?”
Merlin shoves Harry’s shoulder and mutters, “Out of my office.”
As soon as he’s able, he carves out time to get to the gym. He can’t go regularly, since his daily schedule can fluctuate time and again, so it was only a matter of time for him to crash on someone else’s session.
He’s finishing his last round with the punching bag when Harry walks in, the door thunking shut behind him.
“Never heard of a tech wizard in a gym before.”
Merlin lowers his hands and watches as Harry blatantly gives him a quick once over, smirking slightly. “Never heard of a field agent asking to go butterfly catching. But you don’t see me bitching.”
(It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, Harry rushing in and explaining his love for lepidoptery in one breath before asking Merlin if he would help take observations. There was picnic involved. Merlin suspected that Harry didn’t need help at all.)
“Touchè. I see you’ve been holding out on me.”
Merlin ducks his head and breathes a laugh, pushing some of the sweat-slick hair off his forehead. “Never came up.”
He moves to start unwrap his hands when Harry tells him to wait (a little too quickly), the man chewing his bottom lip before flashing a grin.
“Would you like to spar?”
“Oh, I haven’t—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”
Merlin raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side. “Is that so?”
“Let me warm up first, and we can take it nice and slow for your first time.” Harry accentuates his sentence with a wink, and Merlin doesn’t dignify him with a response.
Harry seems to pick up on Merlin’s skills quickly. The latter knows he has barely any chance against an active field agent, but the two of them both seem to underestimate Merlin. His muscles burn with the effort of trying to keep pace but it’s well worth it—he manages to get Harry pinned on his stomach, one arm held firmly against his back, straddling his waist, and he leans down to mutter, “How’s it feel to get pinned by a tech wizard?” to which Harry responds by rolling much harder than anticipated and flipping the pin. Merlin is caught completely off-guard by the move, arms pinned above his head and Harry’s wolfish grin hovering centimeters from his own face.
And, they should say something. Merlin doesn’t have to say that he taps out, but he should. Harry should move back and say something witty, but he doesn’t. Merlin watches as the grin dissolves into something he can’t decipher, as Harry’s eyes flicker between his lips and his eyes, as sweat trails from his forehead and down the slopes of his cheeks. He hates how clichè the way they finally got together is (and in the future they’ll agree to leave this part out of the story), but they seem to both get the memo simultaneously, both surging to close the small gap at the same time. |
8f1e10e2e31b42f29107f1ab7b9dc88d | ['bc34e3eae8504c0c8d901a0ab4870a07'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I'm currently vacationing at a place that gets wifi in only one spot so I decided to fill my time with writing. I'm here for 3 more days and should finish this fic before I go home. Expect 1 to 2 chapters a day until then.
“You think you can just walk away from me?!” Kate was screaming. She was crowding Derek as he tried to throw his clothes into a duffle bag. He didn’t have much here, but he didn’t trust Kate to not destroy whatever he left while he was gone.
Her arms were constantly getting in his way, her trying to push her way in between him and the dresser he was grabbing things from. He’d been packing for what seemed like forever but there were few clothes that actually made their way into his bag with Kate grabbing things from him. Eventually Derek decided he didn’t care about the few shirts he had here and grabbed the almost empty bag.
“Kate, I told you I am leaving. For god’s sake I caught you in bed with your boss! How could you think I would stay with you after that?” The dark haired man was heading for the apartment’s door, still dodging his ex-girlfriends attempts to stop him.
“Oh please, that was just a fling, it wasn’t serious! I always come back to you baby!” She seemed to finally get her was serious, turning desperate to keep him there instead of thinking he was joking.
“Except for those nights you don’t, you mean? Because there were plenty of nights when you had a last minute project and had to pull an all-nighter? Or those ‘business trips’?” Kate just rolled her eyes, like wanting your partner to be monogamous was huge burden. Derek just shook his head and shouldered his way past her and through the door.
…
Stiles was sitting at a table in his local Starbucks, sipping his large latte with his laptop on that table in front of him. He was waiting for Scott to show, but the other boy was already 20 minutes late. He looked at his phone again, hoping there was at least a text explaining that his friend was caught up at work or some other excuse as to why he couldn’t show up. But there was none.
He sighed and focused his laptop, figuring if his friend wasn’t going to show up he may as well as get some work done. He was a senior in college, and as such had lots of assignments and exams. The most urgent one was a paper due in two days.
Stiles was a good way through his research when the door opened and a person that looked like they were sculpted by gods walked in. Even his scowling face could mask just what a perfect face he had. He had a bag that looked like it had… boxers caught in the zipper? The man went to order a coffee and had to dig around his bag for his wallet, removing his phone and setting it on the counter in the process.
He ordered and paid, moving to the waiting area while his order was filled, but seemed to forget his phone. As soon as his hand gripped his cup he bolted out the door before Stiles could say anything.
As there were no other people waiting, the barista went to the back for something. The brown eyed boy got up to retrieve the phone, hoping the contact were labeled with family relations or even had the beautiful email or address.
Luckily the phone wasn’t locked, but it did show about 20 notifications for calls and texts from a contact labeled “Kate”. There were previews of the texts, and they all were filled with curses that made even Stiles cringe. Whoever this guy was, he better avoid this Kate.
When he went back to his table, he felt the phone go off. He looked at the caller idea, glad it was labelled “Mom” instead of “Kate”. He hoped the guy’s mother would be able to help him find the guy. He pressed green answer button and brought it up to his eye, but before he could say anything the other person started talking.
“Derek! I’m actually surprised you answered. Laura told me you’ve been avoiding her calls, but you know the reunion is coming up and we need your flight information. You’re still bringing your partner right? We’ve reserved the room at the hotel for two and told the caterer.”
“Ma’am, uh sorry but this isn’t Der-” Before Stiles could even finish her sons name, she interrupted.
“Oh dear! You must be Derek’s partner! Unfortunately Derek hasn’t told me much about you, but we’ll have time for that at the reunion. Ask Derek to call me ok? And tell him that if he was worried about you being a boy, he shouldn’t have worried! He should know we would accept whoever he loves. I have to go now, I’ll see you soon!”
There was a click and the line went quite.
Oh boy did Stiles get the feeling he just ruined this Derek’s family reunion.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> You will get Stiles side of the events mentioned tomorrow.
Derek made it home before he realized his phone wasn’t in his bag. He cursed, but figured it had been left at Kate’s then it was probably already broken into a million pieces.
How had this gone so wrong? They’d been together for almost a year and everything seemed to be going great. Well… looking back maybe not great but Derek knew hindsight was 20/20. | c190e4fe43484c86b6c879af28b4147f | ['bc34e3eae8504c0c8d901a0ab4870a07'] | In fact, none of the pack had heard from the older werewolf recently. Normally he would stalk Scott, growl at Erica, be waiting in Stiles’ room for him after school for an update on research. But most of the pack had come to Stiles asking if he’d heard from Derek, because apparently he was the one who saw him the most.
This was news to Stiles, but looking back it really shouldn’t have been. He saw Derek easily 4 to 5 times a week, most of the time it was for research but every so often Derek would stop by and never actually get around to giving Stiles a topic to look up. On those visits he’d banter with Stiles for about an hour before making an excuse to leave.
But Derek was not in his room Monday after school, or any of the following days. It was Sunday again and Stiles had just gotten home from the flower shop after paying for the last bouquet. He’d get something new for the next week, he decided. Chocolate? No, that’s poisonous to dogs…
He wasn’t paying attention when he walked in his room, and nearly missed the large mass on his bed.
He was already turning on his computer when Derek cleared his throat to get the boys attention. Stiles jump, hitting his hand on his desk.
“Fuck! What are you doing here? In fact, where have you been all week? Your puppies have been asking for you. It’s your responsibility to feed and walk them you know.” Derek didn’t reply, used to Stiles’ sarcasm.
“Why have you been sending me flowers.” Derek was too cool for inflection, but he knew it was a question. But how did Stiles explain why he was doing it? Say he wanted to do something nice for the man? Derek would sooner cut off his own arm than accept that someone didn’t want to kill him, which is just messed up. And also why he was doing it, but he couldn’t say that without possibly revealing his feelings.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sure Derek knew he was lying, but they were past physical violence and that meant Derek couldn’t force him to tell.
“The woman how owns the flower shop said you’ve has been in everyday and how lucky I am to have such a caring _boyfriend_.”
Shit. Stiles hadn’t really told that woman who the flowers were for, but she must have assumed. Why else does a guy get flowers every day for a week? He’d had to give Derek’s name as the recipient, and he must have gone snooping around and talked to her.
“Fine, yes I admit to sending them. But I didn’t tell her I was your boyfriend or anything.” His hands were fiddling with a pen he’d picked up, not able to stand still. This was an embarrassing conversation. If Derek asked the wrong question, Stiles might have to lie about his feelings and then the other man would know for sure. And that would send him running, not to be heard from for probably another week.
“Why were you sending me flowers in the first place.” Derek stood from Stiles’ bed, just a few feet from Stiles now. He swallowed, and he knew his heart was beating fast, even for him.
“Because you deserve nice things ok? You’ve had a shitty life and if flowers or notes make it any better just a little it’s worth it.” He avoided looking Derek in the eyes, looking at those eyes that couldn’t pick a color would just make things worse.
“They do.”
“What?” Stiles couldn’t have heard right. Derek agreeing with him?
“They do make it better.” Derek was starting to look a little shifty, and after meeting Stiles’ eyes for a second he bolted out the open window.
Huh.
...
The next day, just minutes after he got home from school the doorbell rang.
Outside was the woman who owned the flower shop, holding the same bouquet he’d gotten Derek on the first day.
“You’re boyfriend said it wasn’t fair he got so many flowers and you didn’t. I’d expect to get a few more.” She finished with a wink before handing over the flowers and leaving.
Stiles was dumbfounded, never expecting Derek would respond to getting flowers with sending some of his own. And like all the ones he’d sent, this one had a note attached.
“You make it better too.” |
724503ce096941db8cd89d366e71f89c | ['bc4157484a5b4af4937088f20a77c9ee'] | “How is this even possible? Lightning coming out of somebodies eyes? Am I part of some stupid joke?!” he let his frustration went. His voice remained nasally and monotone, as if it was a sarcastic state, but it still was an emotional outburst, considering it was Craig who was talking. “Are we in science fiction now? What’s next, Visitors appearing again? Wouldn’t be the first time, though. Taking me with them ‘cause – whoa, dude – that guy has powers! And then I’ll end up with Stan and those assholes in space, like, yeah I love space, but not like this, alien abduction and dissection and anal probes and shit.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he let see through so many emotions. He normally was the calm guy who didn’t give any fucks. But man, he was mad. And he was surprised by himself.
“This town is totally mad, this is a nut house!”
He felt it, the prickle crawling over his skin, a tension building up. He wanted to yell. He wanted to kill with his stare. He clenched his fists, eyes widened, his eyesight went blue.
Yet nothing happened.
Fuck it!
***
On their way home The Noirette sighed buried in his blue Chullo. It still felt like bugs worming over his body, all he thought about was to take a shower.
“Did you calm down?” It was Tokens sincere voice.
“What do you think?!” another sigh.
“I think this whole situation is hilarious! Just consider you can take advantage of this.”
“How would that work, Clyde?”
“Like, you could blow up anything you want and say it was totally unintentional. You hate those guys, don’t you?! Let’s go and pay them back!” he wore a mischievous grin.
No bad Idea, but there was still an obvious problem.
“Yeah, yeah, except I still can’t control shit.”
“Don’t rush things.” Token reasoned, “It’s been only a week and you just started some sort of training. Be patient, dude.”
Craig huffed. He felt his eyes jitter so he closed them. His body seemed to be worn out, a strange sort of fatigue kicked in and made him feel heavy. The bugs were crawling up his head, under his eyelids, totally gross. He blinked his eyes, just then it happened. He felt the electricity rock through his head for an edged spark glittering out of his eye. Crap that hurt. The lightning struck to the ground with a short but audible spark.
“Ouch.”
The teenager rubbed his eye. His friends looked at him in disbelief.
“Bro, you’re scary!” Clyde exhaled.
“Duh!”
3. stop being an oversensitive sissy, just think of all the people who got it worse
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> My girlfriend actualy doesn't like the pairing, is there anybody out there willing to beta read for me? English grammar is so confusing @@
He heard them, the breaking news. He sat at the kitchen table, breakfast time, while his old men sat at the living room watching TV. The reporter’s frightened voice echoed of what he had witnessed. It had fur, it was gigantic and apparently it was a prisoner. Crap not that shit again.
Craig decided he didn’t hear the reports. He swallowed his Cereals and told himself how today was a total normal day like every other had been. He had a rasp inside his throat, had woken up to a boner, was grumpy all day, his acne was laughing at him and he was forced to leave his bed way too early to meet up and socialize with –uh– people, while slowly decompose out of boredom in the prison everybody got to go once they were guilty of being a not-adult. Just another normal day at being Craig Tucker.
Well at least it was Friday, the week’s best day after all! Red Racer was on TV on Fridays.
When he put on his shoes his eyes tickled but he chose to ignore it.
His mates greeted him on his way to school but he chose to ignore it.
His vision turned blue again but he chose to ignore it.
He burnt a hole into the chalkboard thus finally chose to go home.
It was a shitty day. At the television screen the news were demanding to be seen, exposing a city in panic of an unknown danger and announcing him the next catastrophe lying ahead.
“Nope”
He flicked to another channel. There was some time to kill before Red Racer would be on and because there was nothing good in that damn box he found advertisement more interesting than the latest show of the Kardashians or Adam Sandler doing whatever stupid he did this time. He thought about that new trend going viral at his school of singing like in Musicals and that shit. Just another short lasting fashion apparently inspired by that thing ‘High School Musical’.
Whatever.
Sitting around like a depressed moron, total normal day of a teenager.
He lowered his weight and let his body drop into the worn out couch in an attempt to pretend it was comfortable. When his eyes failed him during class today he heard screams and gasps, there was even a voice mentioning “so cool.” Well that person was wrong, it wasn’t cool at all. This burden placed itself on him without his consent. It was unwelcome, annoyingly faithless and just tiresome; simply it was a pain in the ass. He had no need for so much attention addressed at him and he had no need for anything supernatural turning his plain life into the plot of medusa looking into the mirror. | f7ccae2a0da549f5b18540e20e9ac693 | ['bc4157484a5b4af4937088f20a77c9ee'] | It was the first time he ever asked me something besides: how much? Is this drink with rum? Could you add more coke? And it got me startled in a way foreign even to me. My head spun again and I wondered if alcohol could kick in so early for real. It wasn’t the first time a customer asked me something about my love-life or similarly personal and I knew this was considered Smalltalk. However it was Craig who asked me, the guy who wasn’t interested in other people. The guy who didn’t do Smalltalk.
Yet he had his heart broken only three month back, there was no way he meant it in a flirtatious way. He must mean to do Smalltalk this time. Maybe because I was in front of him presenting myself as a friend. I wetted my lips nervously and a brief moment I hoped my reasonable thoughts were truthless.
"...no," I finally said and was grateful my voice didn’t sound as shaky as my hands felt.
“You don’t? That’s a pity.” And after a while he added, “You’re handsome, though. I’m pretty sure within your customers are a lot who have a crush on you.”
“Huh? Jesus, no!”
This got me by surprise. I locked my eyes at the dark desk and watched myself wipe down the already clean counter. How come we suddenly talked about me? How come he was suddenly complimenting me? That wasn’t written within the bartender soap opera script. However I already had broken that script, apparently now was his turn to do just that. And suddenly I thought about how I could ever survive those butterflies inside my guts. Neither the band nor I had a solution.
“Did no one ever, like, dunno tried something?”
“'Well… yeah, once or twice.” I then actually remembered and he was right, some of my customers were trying to flirt with me and left their numbers for me to reach out for them even though I’ve never been interested.
“And?”
“Well, it’s been always girls, but I’m hella gay,” I confessed.
It came out my lips pretty naturally, surprising myself. Nonetheless my hands got clam and I wiped down the counter again as to wipe down my tingly feeling of vulnerability. Craig was gay himself, there was absolutely no reason for me to fear my confession. Still my stomach twisted. Laying bar something of myself and letting it be judged by another person, especially a person I wanted to be liked by, it was the worst form of social interaction.
Craig burst into laughter and I was confused of what exactly had amused him that much. Was it that I said it even through it was so obvious? Was it because he really didn’t know about it and at the realization he laughed at himself for not noticing before? It hit me hard, maybe he was laughing because he had noticed the way I looked at him and maybe he was even able to tell the confession was bigger than intended and he was laughing at my feelings for him and would dump me any moment.
"You are?"
"Yes. I always thought my appearance gave it away," I answered because I was so utterly confused and I wanted clarification of what made him laugh. My hands trembled a bit and I clenched the towel to not bite my nails.
"I would never judge something like that by appearance alone. I mean you think I look gay?"
"No, but you never made a secret out of it anyway."
"Yeah, kind of right."
"You’re looking at every man’s ass." And I grinned as I said it, ‘cause I memorized Craig’s face then displayed his evaluation of that particular ass he was looking at and he was fucking hot when his features displayed a pleased approval.
"No."
"Yes, you do."
"Only at those who’re good looking,“ he slurred and then added “I‘ve never had a chance to look at yours…"
I couldn’t quiet grasp it, yet I thought I heard a bit of disappointment inside his voice.
"That’s because I stand behind the counter."
That was actually kind of smug; that’s like the closest to flirting I could ever come to, what a good thing I chose this night to surprise myself. Craig’s grin slid and a moment something equally to disappointment flickered over his features and out of a strange fling of confidence I said even more.
"You wouldn’t be disappointed though."
Craig grinned, held his hand up and pointed his finger at me like it’s a gun barrel as he opens his mouth as if to laugh. It’s a gesture to tell me I was right.
„Don’t you need to go to the restroom? So I can get a good view at you?“
I chuckled but didn’t say anything. Some more customers interrupted us and gave my hands something else to do than to find their way between my teeth. When I turned back I found Craig back to his thoughts.
“Does this mean it had been my fault?” he asked.
“What?”
“Does looking at other men’s ass count as cheating?”
“God, no! That would be horrible!” I furrowed my eyebrows, what would be wrong about some eye candy?
“Well, maybe he thought I didn’t really like him when I was looking at someone else.”
“Stop! You said you don’t want him back, so it doesn’t matter anymore. And with your next partner you just talk about that habit of yours and then you can look at other people’s asses together.”
Craig groaned and hid his face with his hand.
“Hey, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right.”
He ragged his hand over his face and then looked at me, grinning. |
98893a9ec38b4bdd9fecdae9ad7170c1 | ['bc63a3af7da14f22b68dcf590ac98a50'] | She nodded and found a place for them to sit as comfortably as they could, groaning herself and swallowing another pair of pain pills before handing over the bottle. Charlie took more too and handed it back, and then they set to watching. Hermione was restless, but she knew it was because the sense that things were about to go wrong was making her crazy.
~*~
"Look!" Hermione's shoulder was stiff again as she lifted her arm to point, but she ignored it. "Someone's coming."
Charlie leaned toward her, biting his lip at the uncomfortable shift in position, and squinted. "You know any of them?"
She frowned, trying to see clearly, then shook her head. "Diffusion charm. Really good one. If anything, that lends credence to--crap. Looking this way. Be still."
The three men looked around, sweeping glances, then headed for the little house.
"Think the middle one is one of mine. Michel," Charlie said.
"Really? The blond with the scar?"
"Yeah. Could be wrong, but… well. Wait. They're knocking."
"I thought so. Mrs. Willoughby is in on it."
"Why the hell didn't she just kill us, then?"
"Maybe not actually in on it. Maybe just." Hermione frowned and nibbled her lip. "Maybe I can just--" She put her hands to her ears and concentrated. It wasn't much, as transfigurations went, and it wouldn't stay very long, but it would do. Her ears grew and cupped forward slightly, increasing the range at which she could hear slightly more than double. She turned to Charlie and put her finger across her lips.
"Nice," he whispered. "And yes, shush, I know."
She turned back toward the table, listening intently, trying to ignore the ambient sounds of the wind in the trees. "They're asking after us. I think it _is_ your Michel. French accent, anyway. And. Oh, fuck."
Charlie tipped his head and lifted a brow.
"It's Melora! And DeFreese. But she's not… no, he's calling her 'grandmother' and being entirely solicitous."
"Melora is?"
"My secretary."
"Bugger. And DeFreese is…?"
"One of the men you and Declan helped, back last year?"
"Oh. Wait, he's."
"Shh."
"Sorry."
Hermione leaned forward further. Her ears were shrinking back into place, and she wanted to see if she could get anything else. A moment later, she sat back. "This is bad. He's in MLE, and he's good. Do you have any more sense of where we are, where might be safe…?"
Charlie thought a moment. "Look. Maybe I should just hole up here somewhere, and you should--"
"No." She was still whispering, but her tone was firm.
"Well, whatever's going on, it's pretty deep, don't you think? You need to get somewhere you can tell someone."
"Yes, and that won't involve leaving you behind."
"It'd be the right choice."
"Could you do it? Leave me? If things had worked out the other way?"
"No. Gryffindors should never be in charge of this sort of thing."
Hermione shook her head. "Just as well I'm not stuck here with a Slytherin--if house divisions really mean any such thing."
"There is that. Fine. If you're determined, we should go, unless you expect to learn more."
"I don't think I can do my ears again. Too damn tired."
"Let's go, then. This way, I think." He pointed over his shoulder. "Over the hill and then perhaps around the other side of the village Mrs. Willoughby's house lies outside."
"Wait," Hermione said as he stood. "They're shouting."
_…not here…--mother…long…which…_ came drifting faintly up, and then there was a shriek, and squabbling between the two men.
Hermione and Charlie looked at each other and turned to move over the hill and out of line of sight of the house. As soon as their pursuers came outside, given DeFreese's training in particular, they could be spotted unless they put some earth between them.
~*~
"Much further, you think?" Charlie was moving slower and slower, though he was doing his best and so far it didn't seem they were being tracked. They'd moved beyond the village itself and headed for the Wizarding town beyond, on the theory they were more likely to even the playing field--filched wands would still help, if nothing else.
Hermione stopped and looked around again. "I'm thinking that's an owl post office," she said, pointing. "We can liberate a few owls and come back to pay later."
"Sounds fair, although don't they put alarms on them?"
"Yes, but…" Hermione pulled a flat metal badge out of her pocket. "Got a bit crushed, but they'll recognize it. They won't refuse."
"Convenient, that."
"Yes. Come on."
Charlie limped along behind her to the owlery. She selected four owls and took them out with her, settling with them into the garden shed of a house across the square. "If he has any sense, he'll realize I need to communicate," she said. "His grandmother will have been able to tell him we didn't have wands. And Melora certainly knows how I work."
"Maybe they thought we wouldn’t come here."
"Think I'll send for help anyway. Here. You write. I want to see if there's anything useful in here."
"What am I writing? I mean, exactly."
"Uh." Hermione reached up and felt along the shelf. Even a standard Muggle lantern would be a help, but she was actually hoping for a garden wand--it'd be weak and limited, as it was the sort of household wand one gave to a child doing housework. "My name. Your name. Um, in the one to Mary, something she'd know was you, and a general description of the situation. Aha!"
She sat back down, and he handed her the first letter and the blank parchment. "Here."
"What?"
"Duplicate! Except the part that makes it obvious it's me, for whoever you're sending to. Are there any more that are to people that are supposed to recognize me?"
"Yes. Your mother."
"What? Oh god. She'll show up straight away." | 36e617696612493892378e4e53d9be6e | ['bc63a3af7da14f22b68dcf590ac98a50'] | Father sighed and crossed his arms. "DUM-E, are you trying to build me a robot out of Spam?"
DUM-E slouched. He felt silly, because as soon as JARVIS said it, the meaning of the phrase came to him. He wished he had a grasper that wasn't covered in SPAM paste so that he could smack his tiny brain with it somehow.
Father crouched down and started wiping off excess lubricant with a fresh towel, then grimaced and gave up, standing to look at DUM-E's creation. "Well, as Spam robots go, it's pretty good," he said. DUM-E stood a little taller. "Although if you want to build something, I'm going to suggest you stay out of the organics. Kind of messy."
DUM-E did have to agree with that. He chirped and looked longingly at the pile of scraps in the corner.
"Yeah, all right, fine, you can have some new toys," Father said. "After we steam clean this off you."
DUM-E tried to roll back in alarm, instead slipping in the goo and remaining in place.
"Oh, what, you've decided it's your new perfume? Well, fine. We'll keep you a bit to dab on your wrist, but first, steam-cleaning so you aren't too oiled to move. OK?"
DUM-E warbled a bit, then settled. He wondered whether Father was surprised, after all. At least that would mitigate the humiliation somewhat.
"Sir, DUM-E would like to know whether you are surprised," JARVIS said.
DUM-E whirred in protest, but Father patted him and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am surprised," he said, as he pulled DUM-E out of the puddle and toward maintenance. "Very. DUM-E, your robot is very creative. And definitely the best Spam robot I've ever seen. Not that most are really seen so much as encoded, but then, envisioning the process is sort of seeing them, and still yours wins. Good job."
DUM-E chittered to himself and considered what he might try next. Maybe he could offer some improvements to Father's lightbulb. He chittered more, and went into the steam chamber. |
55f878737b3a4e8e82e35f70eff8a6a3 | ['bc724db7435349a4a8a33eddc7489bd7'] | “Fine. But you have to pay to play. All of your clothes, off, and I have control of them until you’re done.” The girl nods, immediately shucking her leather jacket and handing it over. “And I plan to keep filming,” she nods again as her breasts bounced free of her bra, making it just a little bit harder for Reyna to maintain her control. “And I’m going to need your name.” her jeans and underwear go into the bag. Piper and Annabeth are both openly staring at her and Reyna is trying not to join them. This stranger is almost as gorgeous as her own girls.
“Thalia.” She answers over her shoulder as she strides over to Piper and Annabeth and introduces herself. There’s a few moments of conversation that Reyna can’t quite catch, and then suddenly the stranger, Thalia, is on her knees in front of Piper. Annabeth takes a step back to watch as Piper’s face changes to one of pure ecstasy as Thalia starts eating her out. It is mere moments before Annabeth starts playing with herself as she watches and Reyna comes close to doing the same. It’s clear that Thalia knows what she’s doing, based on the way that Piper has her hands clenched in her hair and the stream of curses pouring out of her mouth. One of Thalia’s hands comes up to help out her mouth and Piper’s eyes almost roll back into her head. Her knees start shaking, her telltale sign that she’s starting to get close. The curses pick up speed and lose coherency as Piper’s hips rock against her face. Annabeth’s face is just starting to contort when Thalia’s name bursts free of Piper’s lips and she gives one final thrust, her legs tightening as she comes. When it’s over, Thalia stands up, wipes her mouth, and saunters over to where Annabeth is leaning against the wall. Reyna tracks her with the camera, lingering for just a moment on Piper’s spent frame. Thalia catches Annabeth’s hand and pulls it out of her pussy, first sucking it clean while looking into her eyes, then dropping it to her side. She leans in and starts kissing Annabeth, who reciprocates earnestly. Reyna fidgets, the dampness in her underwear starting to become uncomfortable as Thalia’s hand threads between their bodies to Annabeth’s already dripping pussy, making quick work of her unfinished orgasm. Her moans are swallowed by Thalia’s mouth, but Reyna can hear the hitches in her breathing when something happens that she likes. She supposes Thalia can hear them too, because they started coming more frequently and closer together. Thalia finally pulls off of her mouth just as Annabeth’s body goes rigid, allowing her final scream to echo through the little store with a grin on her face.
Thalia is just turning to Reyna with her mouth open when Piper comes up from behind and puts one hand on her breast and the other in her pussy, attaching her mouth to Thalia’s neck. The little gasp she gives is so endearing and so goddamn sexy that Reyna almost comes on the spot, but she crosses her legs and maintains her composure. When Annabeth recovers, Thalia is already well on her way, eyes half lidded as she mumbles a mixture of curses and dirty talk that only spurs Piper on. Annabeth walks over and drops down in front of the two of them, much as Thalia had in front of Piper, and adds her mouth to Piper’s lightning fast fingers. The dirty talk picks up with both of their names now and Reyna shifts her legs a little, wishing for some kind of relief. Sandwiched between both of her girls, Thalia doesn’t have a chance, and so Reyna isn’t much surprised when the clever lines devolve quickly into gasps and moans that pick up volume and pitch until she finally comes all over Annabeth’s face. They allow her a moment to rest, Annabeth and Piper selecting the items they want to buy and finally purchasing them from the awestruck cashier who never once tears his eyes away from their bodies. Dare complete, Reyna should technically hand them back their clothes now, but they all know that they can’t just leave like this. So she trails them back to where they left Thalia, still filming her gorgeous girls. She has had a chance to collect herself and smirks at the three of them as they approach.
“Thought you were going to run off with my clothes.”
“A deal’s a deal. I said I only had them til you were done. And here they are.” Reyna tell her, handing over her entire stack of clothing. Thalia accepts it, but makes no move to put any of it on.
“Are we done? I was hoping that sort of performance would be enough to earn me an audience with the mistress herself.” Reyna chuckles softly.
“We’ll see about that. How about I get your number and we can look into having you join us again.”
“Sounds good to me.”
After they all trade information and promises to keep in touch, the three girls get dressed and head out of the convenience store that none of them will see the same way again. Once the car is on and Thalia is already gone, Reyna turns to Piper.
“Worth it?” she asks, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Worth it.” Piper answers definitively.
**Author's Note:**
> I might do more of this dynamic if you guys are interested? | 08e2ed0f5aed4ce6b8c2f13e2bc324e8 | ['bc724db7435349a4a8a33eddc7489bd7'] |
A Hand-Me-Down Toyota and a Bad Idea
It was a normal day for them, chugging down backroads in Piper’s beat up, hand-me-down Toyota. Annabeth was belting along to some bouncy pop song that she had insisted on listening to while Piper rolled her eyes and pretended not to know all the words as well. They were planning to go to the boardwalk with a book of ride tickets Annabeth had found in her mother’s office and spend the whole day on the kiddie rides, which were bound to be empty on a Tuesday in April. When they stopped at a red light, Piper found herself studying her girlfriend’s profile outlined against the almost cloudless blue sky. Her hair tumbled effortlessly over her shoulder in the way that Piper could never figure out but loved, her grey eyes were bright and sharp, and her glossy mouth transitioned easily from a wide grin back into the repetitive chorus of the song. Piper suddenly got an idea and reached over to turn down the music just as the light turned green.
“Hey babe, you ever had sex in a car?” she asked, the corners of her mouth curling up slyly. Annabeth whipped around to stare at her, mouth slightly open and brow furrowed.
“Of course not!” she sputtered. Piper’s smirk grew more pronounced as she started imagining how her girlfriend would look, naked and moaning, sprawled across the backseat. She could feel herself getting wet already.
“Would you like to?” out of the corner of her eye, Piper could see Annabeth’s face getting redder and redder as she opened and closed her mouth silently. Several quiet moments passed before she answered.
“There’s not nearly enough space in your car.” Was all she had to say. Piper pouted, her fantasy already starting to dissolve.
“It’ll be fine, I promise. C’mon babe, just a little bit of fun?” she wheedled. Annabeth just shook her head.
“Nope. You can have sex by yourself if you want it so bad.” Piper glanced around, starting to formulate a new plan. If she wasn’t wrong, the old community pool was just around the corner and the parking lot would be empty…
Piper made the turn, despite Annabeth’s protests that the boardwalk was the other way, and swung into the lot, parking the car as far back as possible. The lot was, as she suspected, abandoned.
“What are you doing?” Annabeth asked as Piper jumped into the backseat and settled herself as comfortably as possible against the door.
“I’m taking your suggestion.” Piper answered simply as she stripped off her leather jacket and tossed it on the front seat. Horror dawned on Annabeth’s face and she turned resolutely away to show her disgust, but Piper could see her eyes darting to her in the rearview mirror. She grinned to herself as she pushed up the uneven crop top she had cut herself and tugged down her bandeau, starting to play with her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tugged on a nipple, catching her lower lip between her teeth, and her other hand unbuttoned her shorts and slid inside. She massaged herself over her underwear first, feeling it grow damper with each passing moment. When she opened her eyes, she saw Annabeth watching her intently in the mirror, though she quickly looked away. Spurred on by the thought of her girlfriend watching her, Piper pulled her short down over her boots, leaving her in nothing but the crop top and her underwear. She pushed aside the crotch of her underwear and pushed a finger into her incredibly damp folds, bringing her thumb up to play with her clit. Piper couldn’t help the little moan that escaped her then, and she quickly took her underwear off entirely, needing more access. Her other hand was still teasing her nipples, though her motions were quickly growing more frantic. The image of Annabeth sprawled across the same seats she was now fingering herself on hadn’t left her mind and she stopped checking on Annabeth in the mirror to keep her eyes closed and focus on it. She fit a second finger into herself and grinded her palm into her clit, jerking her hips up to meet it. She was just starting to feel her climax curl in her lower stomach when she felt a hand on her knee and her eyes shot open.
Annabeth was sitting across from her, cheeks red, with her eyes trained on her hand that was still moving, though more slowly. She cleared her throat and shifted in a way that made it clear that her underwear was also soaked. Piper’s hand was starting to pick up speed again when Annabeth removed it.
“It’ll go faster if I help you.” she muttered before pulling Piper’s crop top and bandeau off over her head, leaving her completely naked. She started sucking on one of her breasts, leaving little hickies all over, while she palmed the other one roughly. It was not long before her kisses started trailing steadily south, leaving a line of little red marks in her wake. She kissed the one spot above Piper’s hip bone that she knew made her crazy before pressing her mouth to Piper’s clit and dragging her tongue over it. Piper met her tongue with hip thrusts in the same rhythm, one hand winding tight into Annabeth’s perfectly curled hair. Her other hand slid down Annabeth’s side to the hem of her gauzy floral skirt and slipped underneath it, pushing her silky soaking underwear out of the way and immediately inserting two fingers. Annabeth moaned into Piper’s folds, causing Piper to moan even louder at the vibration.
When Annabeth started fingering Piper as well as eating her out, Piper knew she was done for. A mix of half-incoherent curses and Annabeth’s name poured haphazardly out of her as her body curled and arched, driving her fingers even further into Annabeth than before. Annabeth watched her cum as she sat back and cleaned off her fingers one by one, marveling once again and how gorgeous her girlfriend is.
As soon as the last aftershocks left her body, Piper slid down on the seat and pulled Annabeth onto her face. She buried her tongue deep in her slippery folds, enjoying the taste and feel of her girlfriend as Annabeth moaned loudly at the change and rocked her hips into her face. Annabeth pulled her breasts out of her shirt and began playing with them, tugging hard on her nipples. Piper used her nose to tease Annabeth’s clit and she threw her head back with one of her loudest moans yet. Piper took a moment to enjoy the view of her classy, cultured girlfriend riding her face while yanking on her own breasts before getting back to work, darting her tongue into Annabeth’s entrance and playing with her clit with one of her hands. Annabeth, who was already on the verge of an orgasm watching Piper cum, started to grind frantically and erratically into Piper’s face, indicating that she was close without having to break the low string of curses that had been tumbling out of her mouth since Piper started. In response, Piper latched her mouth onto her clit and slipped two fingers into her, hammering away rapidly. Annabeth came hard, her muscles clenching around Piper’s fingers as she all but screamed out her name. When she was done, she got off and Piper sat up, gathering her close.
“Maybe car sex isn’t so bad.” |
4bb6ee26fe8842f6b6f2444145cf7eea | ['bc8c7a20fa044b92a42e99ff9828ecb7'] | Eddie honestly can’t tell the difference between Richie flirting because he’s fucking around and Richie flirting because...he wants to. And although Eddie has solidly denied any semblance of a relationship between him and Richie in the past, all the signs seem to point to the conclusion that maybe Richie thinks about Eddie the same way Eddie thinks about Richie. All that stupid, gooey shit like in the shows his mom watches--shit like holding hands and hugging and other lame crap that Eddie feels like a total dork blushing over.
But then Eddie remembers Richie kissing Bill’s face and hugging Beverly and swinging Stan around, despite Stan’s protests, and it’s back to square one.
He supposes there’s really no way to know for sure, but Eddie is positive of one thing: he can’t make the same mistake as yesterday unless he wants to be stuck in today forever. So he draws on whatever smidgen of bravery he’s got stored away and sucks in a breath.
Richie’s still looking at him expectantly, and Eddie lets himself smile, air whooshing out in a single exhale. “Sure, Richie.”
Richie looks vaguely surprised, as if he expected Eddie to fight, which is fair. Richie clearly knows him well.
They head off to wait in line, waving off the others. Stan claps Richie on the back, grinning, and Eddie remembers that clearly Stan’s in on whatever’s about to happen. If something’s about to happen. Eddie’s going crazy with all his internal, half-formed theories. Most likely Richie just wants to ride the ferris wheel because he...wants to ride the ferris wheel. Eddie suddenly feels stupid for his original actions. But he still makes sure to give Stan a long, searching look which Stan surprisingly returns until Richie drags him away.
It’s no surprise that Richie babbles the entire time. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say Richie was nervous. _Get a grip_ , he reasons. _You’re projecting because your stuck on this stupid ride and all pressed up against Richie._ But he can’t deny it gets annoying after they’ve started the rise upward and Richie’s still running his mouth on some show he and Bill binged last week.
“Richie,” Eddie sighs. Richie stops talking and watches Eddie fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “Why did you bring me up here?”
“What, Eds?” Richie chokes out a laugh, “can’t I have a moment with my boy?” Eddie frowns slightly. Richie’s tense. He can see it in the lines of his shoulders, in the grip he has on the wall of their cart turning his knuckles white.
“Yeah,” Eddie allows. “But, like. I dunno…” he trails off, suddenly nervous. Richie’s entire being radiates awkward. Fucking hell...they’re halfway to the top at this point and Eddie’s spoken about ten words. _This_ , Eddie thinks to himself, _this is definitely hell_. “Whatever you’re about to do, can you just get it over with?”
“What makes you think I need to _do_ anything?”
Eddie thumps his head against the seat. _Richie’s right,_ he thinks. _I only knows how much of a big deal this is because of yesterday’s fight._ “I don’t know, because we already spent the entire day together? Why do you need,” Eddie takes a breath, “another ‘moment with your boy’”?
“Right you are as always, Eds,” Richie deflects, and turns to gaze out over the fairground.
They sit in silence for about another fifteen seconds.
“Richie,” Eddie snaps, annoyed. “Are you serious? Don’t tell me you dragged me on here for no fucking reason.” _Seriously, if this whole fiasco was all because Richie wanted to look at the damn sunset..._
Richie barks out a laugh, and it startles Eddie, but when he looks Richie’s face is the furthest thing from amused. “I--yeah,” he says, and runs fingers through his hair. “Eddie, I--um.”
Suddenly Eddie forgets his irritation, because Richie looks like he’s about to be sick. “Rich?” he tries, and tentatively places a hand on Richie’s arm. “Are you alright?”
Richie turns, looking at the hand on his arm, and suddenly Eddie has the urge to snatch it away. It burns, resting there against Richie’s skin, searing hot between them. The entire air shifts and suddenly Eddie is nervous. But all of that is nothing, nothing compared to the way Richie looks at him next, eyes locked onto his, gaze intense.
“Eddie,” Richie breathes, and Eddie’s breath catches a bit in his throat. He’s never heard Richie sound like that, never seen him look like this. “Eds, Eddie. Fuck, I don’t know where to begin.” He breaks eye contact and Eddie is thankful. He places a hand on his heart and feels his chest begin to rise at a normal pace again. Richie’s got his head bowed, and Eddie can’t tear his gaze away from his profile. He can feel it in his stomach, his throat, in the back of his mouth--there’s energy vibrating between them. Something big is about to happen.
“Eddie, man, you gotta know. I really--I can’t hold it in anymore. Shit,” he laughs, and glances back to Eddie, hair mussed and eyes a little frantic. “You--I--” he cuts off.
Eddie feels more than sees the way Richie gazes at him, his nerves tingling. “Richie,” he says, because he has an inkling of what Richie wants to say but can’t bring himself to believe it without some sort of hard proof. “What is it?”
“I like you, Eddie,” Richie says, and doesn’t break eye contact. Eddie can’t move. He stares, jaw slack, at Richie’s face, redder than the setting sky around them. “I...shit, Eddie, I seriously like you _so_ much, you can’t even...hah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know you’re my friend--but, shit. You have to know. I can’t keep pretending anymore. _Shit_.” | 5cd5d78d96364a3d966d3a10d23f277d | ['bc8c7a20fa044b92a42e99ff9828ecb7'] | Richie ends up making a spectacular fool of himself at the midway games, carrying out increasingly elaborate schemes to trick both the workers and the game to win ridiculously useless prizes. Eddie’s laughing so hard he doesn’t even mind when they get yelled at for holding up lines and for their destructive behavior. Even Ben, golden-boy Ben, can’t seem to bring himself to give a shit, wiping his eyes and face red with laughter. He even volunteers to distract one of the booths long enough for Richie to hastily hoist Eddie up long enough for him to grab a shitty water gun that, in Richie’s words, “was rightfully theirs, after the way we totally destroyed those fucking balloons, did you see how many were left?”
The water gun ends up being a bad idea because Richie keeps waving the damn thing around, shooting anyone and everyone who is unfortunate enough to walk by within range. Lucky for him, it’s hot enough outside that most people just laugh in good humor, grateful for a small respite. However, “most people” doesn’t include Eddie, who yanks the damned thing out of Richie’s hand after Richie shoots water directly into his ear for the upteenth time.
“God’s sake, Rich! Give it a rest! You’re annoying Ben.”
“Is he?” Ben says from Richie’s other side. “My ears are perfectly dry, so I’m fine. Carry on, Richie.”
Eddie gapes at the betrayal, shaking his head when Richie reaches out for the toy. “Nuh-uh. No way!” He dances out of the way, dodging Richie’s advances.
“You heard Hanscom. Cough it up, Eds,” Richie grins, darting out to snatch it back, but Eddie’s quick to hide it behind himself.
Eddie can feel his stern facade crack into a smile as Richie leans into him, making to grab the gun out from where its pressed against his back. He lets his hands rest on Eddie’s, clasping his elbows in a half-assed attempt to twist Eddie’s arms out of their locked position. It’s obvious Richie’s not really trying at all, and they’re both laughing, and when Eddie looks up, Richie’s stupid hair is flopping into his face and escaping from behind his ears.
“C’mon, Eddie, baby,” Richie cajoles, obviously joking, but the word _baby_ jolts Eddie and suddenly Richie’s too close to his face. He abruptly shoves him backward with an embarrassed cough and tosses the water gun to an amused Ben.
“Ben is the most responsible,” he mutters, avoiding looking at Richie directly. Slowly, his hands let go of Eddie’s arms, his fingers trailing down Eddie’s forearm lightly before stepping away. Not that he particularly cares. He just happened to notice the gesture, is all. “You can have it back when we go home.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Richie teases, breaking the awkward atmosphere, and they continue walking. He pretends to think for a minute. “Or would you prefer ‘daddy’? I know what you get up to at night, Kinky Kaspbrack.”
Eddie growls, clapping a hand over his eyes. Richie is literally such a fucking dumbass. “Ugh! You are so gross, you know that?”
“That was kind of funny,” Ben admits, and holds his hands up in defense when Eddie glowers at him. “Not the--uh, Kinky Kaspbrack stuff, though.”
“‘Kind of’?” Richie repeats, ruffling Ben’s hair. “You really know how to charm em, Benny boy.”
Ben checks his watch. “I think Bev wanted us all to regroup near the food stands in a few, so if you guys are done here…”
Eddie starts to say that he’s ready to go as well but Richie cuts him off with a yell, pointing. “No, wait, guys! I _have_ to do the ring toss, seriously, it’s like practically tradition.”
“Sure thing, Richie,” Ben says easily, and Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets, nodding.
“Go get em, I guess.”
“Excellent! Love the support!” Richie swivels so he’s walking backwards, facing Ben and Eddie as they make their way to the last booth. “By the way, this is the pièce de résistance, before we meet up with everyone again. Eddie-bear,” he winks, “this one’s for you.”
“Richie! Quit fucking calling me that!” Eddie huffs, trying to mask his blush with anger, but Richie’s already striding up to the counter and sliding two tickets over. Ben nudges him, smiling so wide Eddie would think it was Ben Richie was teasing, not himself.
“Watch carefully, boys,” Richie says when they join him. He shoots a bright smile at Eddie before windmilling his arms and letting the little rubber ring fly in a high arc before it gracefully loops around a peg. He beams at them, proud.
“Nice, Richie,” Ben says, but Eddie scoffs.
“What kind of technique was that, anyway?” he says.
“I’d like to see you do better,” Richie counters as he concentrates on his next toss, rocking on his heels and winding his arm back. “It works, doesn’t it?” He lets loose again, and Eddie’s surprised when ring number two is successful as well. He doesn’t join in when Ben claps, though. Like Richie needs any more blind support of his antics.
“Alright, high stakes,” Richie says, making the sign of the cross over the final ring. “Don’t let me down, now.” Eddie is startled when he shoves the stupid thing in his face. “Kiss it.”
Eddie splutters. “What? Why the fuck would I do that?”
“For good luck, honey-bear. Isn’t that a thing? The pretty girl kisses dice, or whatever? Back me up, Benny.”
“I think so?” Ben tries, squinting at the sky like the clouds will give him answers.
“I’m not putting my lips on that dirty thing,” Eddie snaps, hands on his hips. “And--by the way--emphasis on _girl_ , Richie. That superstition shit doesn’t work if you half-ass it.”
Richie grins at him. “Nah, emphasis on _pretty_. C’mon, all that fluffy hair and those big eyes? My heart, she’s a-stolen.” He leans over and pinches Eddie’s cheek, laughing when Eddie yanks himself backward. “Do it for me, Eddie-boo.” |
9145ce9c50c54c0fb692e31481edd6d7 | ['bc9e9fb50421447c95be90df10918abb'] |
1. Miyuki, 1
**Miyuki**
I woke up from the sun shining in on my face. I still hadn’t bought curtains for my small apartment. For some reason I felt like reality would hit me, if I did. The reality of living alone in another country. The reality of being alone. So the curtains was left unbought, and the sun had started to act as my alarm clock whenever it could.
After getting up, my eyes automatically followed the wall over to the corner, where my catchers mitt was laying. Collecting dust. The main reason for me being here, was to use the mitt. I had sacrificed everything to do so. So why was it just laying in the corner as a constant reminder of my failure and all of my mistakes.
The sun taunted me, making the dust seem almost glistening, as it touched the surface, making a light cone above it, illuminating the dust in the air that would fall down on it as well. Knowing full well, that I wouldn’t touch it. I wouldn’t disturb it. I simply wasn’t worthy enough. I had lost that right when I chose it above everything else.
The monochrome everyday life I had chosen was something I had to live with. It was something I had to deal with. I had always known what kind of man I was, and in the moment I made my choice, I forgot about it, made myself believe I was something I wasn’t. Or would be something I couldn’t. But even so, time would ruthlessly move on. It would plow through everything mercilessly, and without time to stop and take a break. And thus, here I am.
The sky once again looked grey, the only thing with color was ironically enough the sun, that I couldn’t even look at directly. I could only look at the rays it threw out in to the world, and just kept reminding me of another sun. The sun I left behind. The sun I turned off with my own hands.
As I walked to work in a strange country I never would call home, I once again decided to throw away the thoughts of regret that lingered in the back of my mind. They would still be there. But at least at work, I could throw them away for a while.
Taking a deep breath in, and exhaling just as long, I prepared myself for another day. The only people that could see through my fake smile wasn’t here, and people that was didn’t care enough to try. There was only pleasantries exchanged when the need arrived, and otherwise people would mind their own business. No need for polite conversation or small talk. No need to get involved in other people’s lives. No need to let the reality of things hit. Because when they did, they would hit hard.
Nodding in the Japanese fashion was something I still did. Another thing to keep my mind away from reality. What I didn’t do, was slack off. Work was work, and I could concentrate on the heavy lifting and carrying around. Concentration was key when lifting a lot at once, and it was easy to forget that the world had forgotten its color when the endorphins was pumping from the exercise that the work I did gave.
After work the world once again seemed dull as I made my way to a burger joint. Something there was everywhere around here. A flashback took me back to my baseball days and how I once was very strict about what I put in to my body, but those days were over. Even though this job required a lot of muscle, I would be fine as long as I ate enough. No matter what it was.
With a heavy sigh I left, heading back to my empty apartment with an empty heart, trying to turn my brain off, but as always, it was as stubborn as me, and didn’t give in. It just drove full throttle ahead and reminded me about everything I didn’t want to think about. Like the mitt in the corner I once again turned to, without having any control. It was always there. My eyes would always turn to it. My brain would always think about it. Even my subconscious had the image of it burned in to it. It would be so easy to just throw it away or put something on it to cover it, but I was sure, even if I did that, I would still be able to see it as clearly as I did now. But then it would just be a hallucination. An illusion. Something that would make me seem crazy. So instead, it was the only real thing for me. The only reality I had.
It was the one thing I hated and loved. The one thing that kept the memory of the person I loved alive. Not that he was dead. But I’m sure I was dead to him. My sun. The one person I would never be able to look at directly from the radiance. He had been a diamond in the rough when I met him, but he at some point got so polished that his brilliant light overshadowed everything in his path. Like a walking ray of light.
He had from the very start given me trouble. But at some point, the uneasiness I felt when I was with him came from something else. Another kind of feeling. Something in me only he could shine his light on. Something only he could bring out of me. | 52619a1b2a3246d8b0b2f18c4b9ddb0a | ['bc9e9fb50421447c95be90df10918abb'] | “I heard what happened” He said, sitting down next to Miyuki. None of them saying a word from that point. Miyuki appreciated that they were able to communicate by silence. That Kuramochi understood him so well. Sitting with, who he would consider to be his best friend, he calmed down a bit. Feeling the tension in his body leave enough for him to actually move again. Kuramochi was just sitting. Keeping an eye on his friend. Or rather, a version of his friend he didn’t know. But it didn’t matter if he knew it or not. Miyuki was Miyuki, and that was really all that mattered.
A few days after, with Wakana having showed up at the dorms every day, Sawamura had finally started to show up for training. His energy was low, which was to be expected. But he was able to pitch. Even better than before. Maybe that was how he was dealing with his sorrow. Or so Miyuki was told by the other catchers, because for some reason, Miyuki was the only one that had yet to catch for him. Sawamura hadn’t asked, and Miyuki hadn’t offered. He simply didn’t know how to talk to him.
But at last, the day for them to get put together by the coach came. Sawamura didn’t look comfortable by the idea, and Miyuki just didn’t know how to feel altogether. He was still unable to see colors. The green grass had become a faded out grey. The blue sky, a dirty kind of white, and his mitt, a weird kind of black.
“So you and Wakana, huh?” He tried, just to lighten the mood. Not that it lightened his own mood, but if it helped his heart-piece, then it would be worth it.
“Yea,” Sawamura started, as he threw the first pitch.
“I had never thought about her in that way” He continued as he received the ball back.
“But she was just there. Through it all” Almost as if he put extra weight behind the “All”, he threw the next warm up pitch.
“And I guess I do love her” almost losing balance by the sheer force of the ball Miyuki threw, Sawamura continued.
“Oh really, loverboy. I’m happy for you” Miyuki said, almost throwing up while getting the word “Happy” out, doubting everything he had just heard, especially with the “Guess” in the former sentence Sawamura had just said. But… Miyuki couldn’t stand to keep feeling this selfish. He wasn’t able to do so.
“I really am” He said, willing to lose his ability to see color forever, in that moment, saying goodbye to that piece of his heart.
4. WAHAHAHAHA
”WAHAHAHAHAHA” Sawamura called out, as he was about to pitch. He went from full throttle energy, to a silent monster in less than a second. A deep breath in, and he took his position, slowly lifting up his leg, getting ready to release all of his strength in one, sliding movement. And there went the ball, flying in big haste, to where it seemed to think it belonged. The glove of the catcher.
“Nice pitch!” Miyuki yelled from the other end of the bullpen, adding a bit too much confidence to the, now once again, bundle of energy, otherwise known as Sawamura, who was now getting ready to pitch once again.
“ARE YOU READY, CAPTAIN, I HAVE PRACTICED MY NEW SUPER-DUPER-FANTASTIC-AWESOME-NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN PITCH, KEEP YOUR EYES ON IT IF YOU CAN” Even though Miyuki would still be able to hear what the pitcher was saying, without him having to yell so loudly, there was no need in telling him that. And what was this about a new pitch?
Getting in to stance, Miyuki got his glove ready, and Sawamura threw the ball, this time being in a slightly weird position from how he would otherwise throw. Miyuki, taking a lot of notice on this, forgot the ball that was coming straight at him, and hit him right on his, was-supposed-to-be-covered-by-a-helmet-and-not-a-cap-head. He was out cold.
“CAPTAIN!!” Sawamura ran up to the fallen soldier to see how he was. Miyuki was just there. Laying. Not moving.
“CAPTAIN!!!!!” Sawamura tried again, shaking his partner.
“SOMEBODY HELP!” Sawamura, clearly in distress didn’t know what to do. His guilt of hitting Miyuki straight in the head nearly made him throw up. What if he never woke up again? What if he was dead? What if he could never catch again? Thoughts quickly went to Chris-senpai and how he still couldn’t throw well. But this wasn’t the time to think about him. The reason he came to Seidou was unconscious, and it was all his fault. Because he wanted to show his new pitch. Because he wanted to impress him. Because he wanted praise. Because he wanted to be even more useful…
But instead he knocked out the one person that could lead the team. How more useless than that could you get?
Crying, he once again tried shaking the man in front of him.
“WE WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE A PIECE OF ART TOGETHER” he yelled to the sky.
“Oh shut up, Sawamura. I have enough of a headache without you yelling” Miyuki said, with a broken voice. Sawamura looked down. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he hugged his better half, feeling like his heart was whole again.
5. The Mound
”I knew I could find you here” He said, carefully stepping forward. Sawamura Eijun looked up from the mound after hearing the voice of Miyuki Kazuya.
“I guess I had no other places to go” Sawamura said, slightly melancholic. His silhouette moved around, inspecting every inch of the dirt, both on the mound, and around it. |
ae927dcbb3684f889e5514ea680a1fc0 | ['bca4cf11b96d420f8827a50fa0a0dbca'] | Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. You're such a child you can't handle your own disputes, you have to take it to the Headmaster? What do you think he's going to say when he finds out that you've been slandering the hired help, hm? Did you imagine everything would be cake, smiles, and lemon drops? You give your feminine wiles far too much credit."
Ooh, he could see a sizzle. And steam. Or was that smoke rising out of her ears as her eyes flashed with an icy fury? 'Heheheh. That's right. I just insulted your womanhood. Bring it on, cupcake.'
"What's going on here?" a familiar voice came from behind Harry. Well, it looked like Victoria was getting her wish. Only, she seemed a little gray around the edges… she must need to get her cosmetic charms recast. Bitch.
"Albus, how lovely to see you," Harry broke in before Victoria could even open her mouth. Best to take care of the situation before she could gum it up with her prejudice. "Victoria and I were just trying to settle a dispute, I'm afraid. I came across her being incredibly rude to Karl in the hallway, calling him and his apprentice some rather terrible names. I could hardly stand by and watch her so gravely insult a ward master held in such high esteem. It wasn't right!" Inject just the right amount of self-righteousness and- bingo! 'Take that, ice-princess. I _own_ him. You ain't got nothing on the Underwood.'
When Albus turned disappointed eyes on Victoria, after seeing Karl nod in his imperious I'm-in-fact-very-pissed-off-and-in-agreement-with-the-Underwood-right-now way, he did not disappoint. The sheer waves of dismay rolling off him were enough to incapacitate an army of cockroaches. Thankfully, Victoria was just one cockroach, albeit a very large one, and thus easily incapacitated. She sputtered for a moment, but didn't seem able to gather the wit to craft a response to defend herself.
"I'm very disappointed, Victoria. I had thought you could work past your differences, but I can see that that may be too difficult for you." Ooh, below the belt. Nice, Albus. The stricken expression on her face was so worth running into this shitty problem in the first place. "Perhaps it is best you leave for the rest of the holidays. I will see you again in January," he said, order implied and received, if the downtrodden and furious expression on Victoria's face was anything to go by. Without a word, she spun around on her heal and stormed away. Harry was tempted to cast a tripping hex on her, but held on to his self-restraint by a thread.
Next, Albus turned to Karl. "I deeply apologize for my colleague's malicious behaviour, my friend. It saddens me that there are teachers in these walls with minds so closed."
Karl shrugged. "While I am still upset, you have resolved the situation in an acceptable fashion." He turned to Harry. "Thank you for defending our honour. You are a good man."
Harry, suddenly under the intense scrutiny of two pairs of eyes, laughed nervously. "Oh, it was no problem at all. Glad I could help. Anyway, I should be going, since there was actually something I was going to go do-"
"And what might that be?" Albus asked curiously, nodding his head in acknowledgement when Karl quickly murmured that he had work to do and trotted off.
Harry's mind froze. "Uh, well, I was going to… um…" Beat the shit out of the Room of Requirement? Yeah, that would go over _so_ well.
Albus got a sad look on his face. "Have you been avoiding me?"
Harry blinked. "No." Technically, he hadn't been avoiding. He'd just been having sex for more than 8 hours plus the recovery period… "Why would you say that?" he asked, injecting genuine confusion into his voice.
"I've been trying to find you all day." He was about to make up an excuse when Albus reached into his pocket and pulling out a… present? "Merry Christmas." Tapping it with the tip of his wand, he enlarged it to its original size, which was actually pretty large.
Harry took the present and stared down at it, wondering what in the world could be inside.
"I wanted to give it to you over tea, but as you said, you were in the middle of something," Albus said with a rather blank expression before walking off down the hall.
Harry stared after him in confusion. Finally, when Albus was just about to get out of sight, he called out, "Wait!" The man turned around, and now Harry had to think of something to actually _say_. "Uh, how about you come over for dinner tonight? Me and the girls? I can give you your present then."
Albus smiled brightly. "Excellent! Shall I meet at your rooms later tonight to floo over?"
"We'll have to side-along. Their house isn't connected to the floo. And yeah, say, meet at six?"
"Wonderful," Albus said with smile, turning around and continuing around the corner.
Which left Harry standing in the hall, alone, wondering what it was exactly that had escaped his notice.
_wWwWw_
"Wait, _what?_ " Darcy snapped into their contact mirror with a frown, looking far more irritable than she should have for . Well… she was totally mad he hadn't been over for Christmas morning. He hadn't been in a very good mindset last night, though, so it was probably better that they hadn't been subjected to him anyway.
"I said that I invited Albus over for Christmas dinner. He was rather… dejected about something, and I wanted to cheer him up."
" _He's_ dejected? What about us, you twat! Where the hell were you this morning? I tried to contact you earlier, but I got nothing!"
Harry winced. "I… didn't have a very good night. I'm sorry, but I ended up… sleeping it off. I woke a lot later than I normally do." That was basically the truth. Minus all the fucking. | dbf76268220a4bb28194c21a8365cf77 | ['bca4cf11b96d420f8827a50fa0a0dbca'] | Twenty minutes later found him eating at the kitchen table, quiet music playing in the living room and a Wutaian book of poetry next to his plate. He ate quickly but carefully, unwilling to damage one of the books he’d brought back from Wutai. He’d never had the same appreciation of literature as Genesis, but Wutaian had always been more engaging and interesting for him to read and try to decode due to the multiple meanings of each character and the history of the development of the language itself. In addition to that, works from different time periods had different insinuations and implications depending on usage.
He was just taking a sip of tea and walking into the living room when a fist started banging on his front door. He frowned. He hadn’t heard the steps or the gate squeak. Carefully putting his book and tea down on the coffee table, he walked towards the door, checking quickly that his short sword was still nicely hidden on the bookshelf.
Opening the door, he stared mutely at the… woman who pushed past him into the room.
“Do you have any idea the kind of night I’ve had? Or has it been a day? Or _days?_ I can’t even remember anymore.”
The voice was distinctly masculine, and Sephiroth caught sight of a mess of blond spikes as the maid pulled her hat off her- his head. The man-in-a-dress walked straight to his couch and fell down onto it with a groan and a sigh.
Sephiroth followed him and stared down at him, wondering how in the world the custodian knew where he lived. Had Zack let it slip for some reason? From his understanding, the two _were_ rather close friends. Perhaps he had come here in lieu of Fair, since his Lieutenant was no longer in town?
“What, no concern for your friend at all?” the blond asked, yawning and curling up on his couch like he belonged there. His comfort in Sephiroth’s presence and home threw the man. The custodian hummed, nuzzling his face into one of the pillows on his couch. “I need new clothes and I think yours are probably gonna be too long in the legs. You’re too damned tall, Seph.”
The liberties this man was taking were beginning to annoy him. Only Zack could get away with calling him that. In spite of his annoyance, however, he couldn’t help but be a bit concerned. The blond looked as though he had run a marathon, his hair and face sweaty, cheeks flushed but skin pale with the evening chill. He placed a hand to the man’s forehead, to test if his recent behaviour was due to some sort of fever.
“Huh?” Sleepy blue eyes looked at him, but otherwise didn’t appeared to be concerned with his touch in the slightest. This intrigued Sephiroth. When last the General had invaded the blond’s space and touched him, his presence had been thoroughly rejected.
And now he looked… comfortable. Content.
“You do not appear to be ill. And why are you in a maid’s uniform?” he couldn’t help but ask, eyeing the rather feminine form before him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have automatically assumed the blond was a woman.
But the blond just let out a tired sigh, looking absolutely exhausted as he looked up at Sephiroth as though the General was the answer to all his problems. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the night I’ve had,” he said with dejection, his pout reminding Sephiroth of Zack begging for chocolate.
But while the rather eerily familiar pout could be explained by close contact, he still couldn’t fathom why Zack would have told Strife where he lived. Or why he could smell a faint tang of blood and mako.
“Strife, how do you know where I live?”
The other questions could come later.
The blond froze and stared at him for a long moment before he blinked and started to stare off into space, eyes cloudy and face slack.
Sephiroth frowned. That was certainly not the reaction he was expecting. Snapping his fingers in front of blue eyes, his frowned deepened when the blond remained unresponsive.
And then his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out on Sephiroth’s couch.
The General raised a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache.
Perhaps Zack was right when he said ‘sometimes you just have a shitty week.’
Sitting down on the coffee table, he picked up his tea and started to sip at it, book of poetry puzzles forgotten in lieu of the man before him. What had caused him to pass out? Exhaustion? And why could Sephiroth smell blood and mako on him?
And _why_ was he dressed in a maid outfit?
Sighing, he put down his cup and walked to his bedroom in search of some clothes that would fit. Hm… Zack had forgotten some clothes at his place over the months of movie nights. Perhaps those articles would be more suitable in size.
Pulling them out of the bag in his closet, he shook out the wrinkles and examined them critically. He’d washed them, but they’d been in the closet for so long they smelled a bit funny. Shrugging, he walked back to the living room and started stripping the blond.
After he’d finished, and the abominable maid outfit was put in the trash, he stared at sleeping face of his guest. Frowned slightly when he caught sight of a slight discolouration on his face. Pulling the blond’s head closer to him and into the light coming from the kitchen, he frowned at what was the beginning of a bruise forming on the man’s cheek. Running his finger over the damage, he noted the slight swelling and purpling hue.
He hadn’t noticed before, as the blond had been quite flushed, but now it was fairly obvious he’d been punched in the face, likely within the past few hours. |
f4f52f564f424a4bb59f3a8eca2e75af | ['bcb61ea1fea14723a23569841619a7e4'] | The rest of their meeting goes by swiftly, with mostly Mildred exclaiming how glad she is that Miss Pentangle has arrived, recounting all the things she has taught them so far and how much she adores her modern ways of teaching with Pippa chiming in every so often with how her curriculum is structured, that it doesn’t leave much time for Hecate and Pippa to have to interact on a personal level, for which Hecate is deeply grateful. She keeps her gaze traveling from the ground to the walls around the room in order to avoid Pippa’s eyes for she’s certain she would find an underlying contempt or anger in them and she really couldn’t bear it right now. As more students start making their way into the schoolroom, Hecate quickly takes her leave, grateful for the lungful of fresh air she takes as she’s finally outside which seems to her the first breath she’s taken since Mildred dropped a bomb on Hecate’s life through the utterance of Pippa’s name the previous evening. However, her reprieve is cut short with a couple shouts of her name in that most familiar, and yet unfamiliar voice.
“Hecate, please wait,” Pippa cries out to her, and so she does, unsurprised to find she is still unable to go against Pippa’s wishes. Once Pippa reaches her side the words can’t help themselves and come tumbling out of her mouth. “I never expected to see you again. What happened all those years ago? I was so worried and so confused and angry and sad and -” Pippa stops herself taking deep breaths and Hecate keeps waiting for the harsh words to come, feels her transference spell at the tip of her fingers ready to activate, and yet the words never come, instead Pippa gently reaches out and places her hand on Hecate’s arm and continues, “I’ve missed you. Can we please talk?” Pippa’s hand burns through the layers of Hecate’s clothing and she doesn’t know if she wants to pull away or attach her there forever. At a loss for words she replies with a mere nod, which receives a wide smile from Pippa.
“Excellent. Come for tea later, I’ll be waiting,” Pippa declares and then hurries back inside to the awaiting children.
Hecate watches Pippa head back into the schoolroom and stares at the closed door, her mind still reeling. She wishes she could just transfer back to her home, her lab and get back to her potions but her magic and her heart feel unruly so she settles on walking back home to try to tame both.
* * *
Hecate’s work that day is subpar which simply won’t do, she’ll have to remake all of these potions another day. Her mind is not fully with her potions, it keeps traveling back to Pippa and seeing her beautiful face again for the first time in 30 years. Her blonde hair as lustrous as ever, the lines in her face that show she’s lived but only make her more beautiful, and her eyes, always shining with so much emotion that Hecate’s afraid to look, afraid of the truths she’ll find, the words her kind mouth won’t utter but Hecate knows she must think. She’s both anxious and excited for the tea they’re to have later and she’s surprised at how much brain space Pippa is taking up, she feels 16 again.
When the time for tea comes, she leaves Mildred with explicit orders to stay away from her lab and to not burn down their home and should anything be wrong to run down to their neighbor Ada’s house for help. Mildred shoos her away with a toothy grin and a promise that all will be fine and so Hecate is on her way, once again walking in attempt to calm herself, but the walk is not long enough and soon she finds herself on Pippa’s doorstep unable to knock. Hecate’s brain starts unravelling and she thinks that it was a foolish idea to come, that Pippa must’ve invited her over only out of politeness and doesn’t really wish to speak to her but before she can bring herself to turn around the door opens suddenly and before her stands Pippa.
“Come on in, silly, you’ll catch your death out there,” Pippa exclaims in such a casual manner it’s as if they haven’t spent the past 30 years apart, as she drags Hecate into her home. Before she knows it she’s being shoved into a comfortable chair by the fireplace and there’s a cup of tea in her hands. Hecate stares into the fire before taking a sip of tea and realizing she hadn’t told Pippa how she takes it and yet it’s been made to perfection. She clears her throat and says, “You remembered. My tea, that is.”
Pippa smiles shyly from the chair across her and so quietly, Hecate almost doesn’t hear her, responds, “I remember everything.” Hecate looks up at Pippa and sees a flurry of emotions in her eyes and just as quickly they’re gone and Pippa cheerfully says, “I’m so glad you came. Mildred’s told me a lot about your time together, HB.”
Hecate rolls her eyes at the use of the young girls nickname. “I’ve told her time and time again not to call me that but she just won’t get it through her head.”
“Oh come off it, you love it just as I can tell you love the girl, Hiccup.”
Hecate is startled by the use of her old nickname and is unable to respond, simply staring at Pippa until she realizes her slip and somberly says, “I’m sorry, Hecate, old habits.”
She hadn’t realized it until that very moment how much she had missed hearing the old term of endearment and so Hecate gives a small upward quirk of her lips and says, “It’s quite alright…Pipsqueak.”
The smile Pippa gives back in return could light the whole universe and Hecate resolves in that moment to see it again, to set things right with Pippa and have her back in her life for good regardless of the fluttering in her heart. If the past 30 years have taught her anything it’s that she’d rather have Pippa in her life as simply her friend than not have her at all.
**Author's Note:**
> I am in no ways a writer but this wouldn't leave me alone since I binged Anne with an E so here we are. Do let me know your thoughts! | 0711c876850e4aff98dfb78aa84b4d12 | ['bcb61ea1fea14723a23569841619a7e4'] |
Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet
“Oh, HB, I can’t wait for you to meet the new teacher! She’s such a kindred spirit.”
Hecate had heard of nothing but the new teacher since she arrived three days prior. Mildred’s incessant prattle about how modern, how innovative, and how beautiful the new teacher was was making it quite difficult for Hecate to focus on the potions she was currently working on. She doesn’t think she’s had a peaceful day in the two years since she adopted Mildred. Her entire world was flipped upside down with the arrival of the plucky adventurer. Hecate had decided to take the girl in as a favor to an old friend of hers, Julie, who had found herself in difficult economic times and had been adamant that her child would be better off with Hecate and would prove to be of much use as an apprentice. Thus, Hecate found herself with a ward and reluctantly an apprentice. She had not, however, expected to fall in love with the compassionate, albeit rambunctious girl.
“For heavens sake, Mildred, if I accompany you to school tomorrow and finally meet this remarkable teacher will you be quiet and let me finish my work?” Hecate hadn’t even fully finished her query before long arms were wrapped around her middle.
“I’m oh so certain that you’ll love her just as much as I do. Miss Pentangle really is wondrous!”
“Miss P-Pentangle?”
“Why yes! Had I not mentioned her name before? Miss Pippa Pentangle. Even her name is scrumptious while I’m just plain old Mildred Hubble, the worst witch.”
Hecate struggled not to drop her ladle into her potion as the explosion that would occur would surely lead to questions from Mildred, while at the same time she was not processing a single word the girl was saying through the ringing in her ears. Pippa Pentangle. After over 30 years of trying to process and subsequently suppress her feelings for her childhood best friend, here she comes waltzing right back into her life. She’s trying to come up with an excuse why she can no longer accompany Mildred but none come to mind and as Mildred’s tone becomes self deprecating, sound fully returns to her and she admonishes her for thinking such thoughts. Hecate agreeing to meet the new teacher had made Mildred so happy moments before and so she shall go through with it, how bad could it be? It’s been over 30 years since she’s seen Pippa surely she won’t still have the same effect on her and all will be well.
* * *
The sun peaks through Hecate’s curtains as she gets out of bed with a groan. Her no longer young body sore from a restless night spent tossing and turning, going over all the different ways Pippa could react to seeing her and in her mind none of them were promising. For, 30 years ago she had fallen in love with her best friend and dealing with her feelings the only way she knew how, rather, not dealing with them at all, she had abandoned her best friend without a word and neglected to even open any of the letters Pippa had sent her over the first few years of their separation. Safe to say, Pippa must hate her and once she arrives at the school she will be sent away with scathing words. Hecate shakes her head, even in her musings and despite the years between them, she knows that Pippa would never react in such a manner, especially not in front of children particularly one as enthused as Mildred. Pippa will surely put on a front for she is kind and well mannered and congenial, all the things Hecate herself is not. Nevertheless, she readies herself for what is sure to be an unpleasant morning and starts on breakfast for herself and Mildred all the while willing her racing heart to cooperate.
The walk to the school is a quiet affair on her part but as Mildred speaks enough for the both of them leaving Hecate free to get lost in her own mind and anxieties. She doesn’t realized she’s slowed down her gait as they near the school until Mildred turns around and has to drag her along the last few feet. Mildred finally releases her hand as they cross the entryway and she bounds toward the front of the room to where Pippa is preparing the chalkboard.
“Oh, Miss Pentangle! I’m so excited to introduce you to my very favorite person today. You see, I believe you and I are kindred spirits and as such I would like you to meet the other most wonderful, smart woman in my life, it would make me ever so happy. Miss Pentangle I’d like you to meet -“
“Hecate. Is that really you?”
“You know each other? HB, why didn’t you say anything?”
Hecate can’t bring herself to answer Mildred’s question, in fact she can’t bring herself to say anything. She’s stuck in a trance, locked in place by Pippa’s bright eyes. She’s pulled back to reality by a nudge at her side from Mildred.
“Miss Pentangle, well met.”
“Hecate, it’s been so long. I didn’t know you’d had a child.” Hecate detects a kind of wistfulness to Pippa’s voice as she says this but perhaps she’s imagined it. However the look quickly fades as Mildred so brightly chimes in, “HB’s not my mom! But she’s adopted me and brought me here and gave me the most marvelous home, where I’ve made oh so lovely friends and,” at Hecate’s scowl Mildred slows her rambling and finishes primly with a wide grin, “I couldn’t be happier.” |
7d5530a9e274494cbcc858f4db37a4a4 | ['bcc22bcd272f4f3f9322a9d1307d49cb'] |
Not the brightest bulb...
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Crack. Pure crack. First Wintershock Story, enjoy :)
>
> Edit: Uh, wow! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos <3
Darcy is halfway through her Subway foot-long when her phone starts to ding. Grumbling to herself, through a mouthful of lettuce and avocado, she spares a glance down at the screen. Before it fades to black she catches a glimpse that it’s from Pidgeon Man—her lovely little home made nickname for Sam.
She shrugs it off and resumes stuffing her face with multigrain goodness. Seriously, it was a proverbial gift from the gods. Except, that Thor had probably never heard of Subway, so not really…but that did get her thinking. What would count as a divine sandwich?
Her deep philosophical thoughts are interrupted by her phone going off _ again _ .
Rolling her eyes, she blatantly refuses to even look at her phone. She can’t have five seconds of peace and quiet around here. Murphy’s Law had to say that when she took time for her break, she would be flooded with messages. Also, she is already committed to her sandwich food and she will finish it, even if it kills her or someone is trying to tell her that a Lab is on fire.
_ Ding. _
“Oh fer’ fucks sake,” she grumbles with a mouthful and reaches out to grab the stupid device off the mountain of Lab Reports and incident forms that look like they are going to collapse over any second now.
Unlocking the screen with a quick swipe of her thumb, she jumps into the _ Messages _ app. Her eyes dart to the three newest ones that have come through.
She furrows her brows in confusion when she notices who they are from. One is from Pidgeon Man, another one from Clint and one from Nat. All of whom are meant to be on a mission and on a communication blackout, which just makes it all the more worrying that they would be messaging her.
The previews do stir her curiosity though. As she can see that Nat’s contains laughing emojis and thumbs up, Clint’s has a image attached to it. Sam’s is the only one with anything text wise in it, so she goes for that one to read first.
**Pidgeon Man: Lewis, you have outdone yourself on this one. Seriously!**
She stares at the message for a few more seconds but still can’t bring herself to understand what it means. What has she done recently that would make Sam be sending her this?
Nothing came to mind.
Shrugging it off, she went back to read the other messages, starting with Nat’s.
**Nat** : **XD XD XD :D**
Okay...things were really getting strange. She hadn’t done anything to make the team laugh that she knew of. Unless there was a live stream going of her inhaling the foot-long sucker in one breath.
Not so subtly raising her hand up to cover her mouth, her eyes dart around the office in futile hope of locating whatever camera could be in place. There is no glinting reflection from a black lens that stands out though, other than the standard security camera that is in the corner. Then again, the people that are messaging her are super-spy assassins so any surveillance tech that they have hidden, won’t be found by the likes of her.
Sighing and seeing there is nothing for it but to check out the message that Clint has sent, Darcy takes another large bite of her sandwich and downloads the image.
She chokes on her sandwich as soon as the picture is fully loaded. Coughing and spluttering, she throws down her sandwich and grabs her phone in both hands.
She wants to disbelieve what she is seeing but, she can’t. It’s not a doctored image. There is no way the expressions in the photo could be fake. Because in the picture is Bucky, love of her life and hunky Winter Soldier. Next to him is Clint.
It looks like a fairly average photo, Bucky however has sheer confusion spread across his face and Clint is smiling with a thumbs up next to him. It is what is in Bucky’s hand that has Darcy’s face paling and realising what all the messages are about and why Sam and Nat are laughing.
In Bucky’s hand is a fleshlight. The one that she had sent him, since she was a good girlfriend and he had been away on mission for two weeks and missing her, as he told her, it was more than just her hugs that he was missing.
So being the creative kind of gal that she is, she had gone out, and well, done the things and sent him a personalised fleshlight. That was in his hand and had apparently been seen by the whole team.
Darcy slams her head into the desk. Her face going red with utter humiliation. Her life is over. Completely over. She cannot face any of the Avengers ever again.
_ Bzzt, Bzzt, bzzt. Bzzt. _
Raising her head slightly from the pit of embarrassment she was sinking into, she can see that Bucky is calling her.
“God,” she moans, resuming to bang her head against the wood.
Hesitantly reaching out, she pulls the phone to her ear and answers it.
“Hi my dude,” she answers. “Miss you.” She is trying to sound normal, she really is, but she is unable to keep the tone of utter misery out of her voice.
“ _ Hey doll,” _ Bucky drawls back only the way he can in his Brooklyn accent that would normally make her weak at the knees.
There is an awkward silence before they both go to speak at the same time.
“I’m so sorry for—”
“Why have you sent me—”
Darcy quickly takes the chance to jump in. “No, you go. What were you going to say?” | 48ce704bad454bae97509b9c91e8cb1c | ['bcc22bcd272f4f3f9322a9d1307d49cb'] | But it means she can keep the conversation going in between mouthfuls and neck strain.
“ _Ok…_ ”
“Sorry, just trying to have lunch and talk to you at the same time,” she says before finally stuffing her mouth with the bagel. It’s heaven. Pure heaven.
She lets out a loud moan with no shame. Really, that’s how fucking good it is.
It might just be her imagination but through the crackling noise, she swears that she hears Bucky curse under his breath before he asks, “ _Dace, what the fuck are you doing?_ ”
“Eating the best bagel ever,” is what she meant to say, but through a mouthful, she knows it probably doesn’t sound anything like that.
Bucky seems to have understood her, as he snarks back, “ _Oh really? Better than my BLT breakfast bagel?”_
She only hums in responses, too busy devouring the chocolate sustenance.
He snorts at her response. “ _Glad to know you’re okay, babe.”_ He sighs. “ _Sorry, I didn’t call you earlier, Darce, things have just been really hectic out here and I haven’t had the time.”_
“S’kay,” she replies through another mouthful, her second last if her calculations are correct. She’ll chew him out for the lack of calls, as soon as she finishes chewing.
“ _And I’m in one piece, I promise.”_
Swallowing the last mouthful, she finally lets rip. “Yeah, right. Your definition of one piece or mine? And you better be sorry Bucky Barnes! I’ve been going out of my mind. Just tell me, are you okay? And don’t try and play it down, alright, give it to me straight.”
There’s silence for a moment, before he admits, _“Yeah, I’m fine.”_
“What’s wrong?” she prods, licking a bit of Nutella off her fingers.
“ _Nothing!”_ he insists.
“Ahuh, not buying that James Buchannan. Spill it.”
He sighs again, it’s one of resignation this time, that much she's able to tell over the phone. She adjusts her head slightly, putting the phone back in her hand which is now free and regrets it as soon as she hearts her neck crack. She risks moving it again, trying to straighten it out and can’t help but grunt in pain.
_“What was that?”_ he asks sharply, somehow hearing her bones crunching.
“Just my neck, don’t worry,” she says, before getting back on topic. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you using Steve’s phone?”
_“Lemme guess, I’m gonna be massaging it for you when I get home? What about your back, that need a massage too?”_ he teases.
She knows that he’s trying to avoid her questions. “Bucky,” she warns, “What’s wrong?”
_“Uh, about that…”_ She can hear the stress in his voice though.
“Bucky, what’s wrong?” she pushes. “What happened? Did HYDRA hack your phone and try and brainwash you?”
_“No, babe,_ _nothing like that_ ,” he laughs before switching to his serious tone. _“But something did happen. I um, I lost my phone. I’m so sorry.”_
“Oh.”
She blinks. She’s confused. Why is that such a big deal? People lose their phones all the time.
_“Yeah, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to. I think it fell out of my pocket when we were moving in and I haven’t seen it since, Tuesday. “_
“Sweetie, what are you apologising to me for?”
_“Darcy,”_ his voice is strangled, as he explains. _“There were pictures on there.”_
She still doesn’t get it. “Sweetie, lots of people have pictures on their phone and they are backed up on the cloud, so they aren’t gone forever. I thought we talked about that whole wireless storage thing.”
“ _That’s not why I’m stressing, Darcy!_ _There were personal photos, Darce. Those ones that you sent to me...I, um…_ ”
It finally clicks and she laughs. “Babe, that’s fine. You’ve got a lock on your phone, so no-one will be able to get to them!”
“ _Uh…”_
She freezes up. “You do have a lock on your phone right?”
“ _No...I’ve never had one.”_ She barely hears him, his words mumbled and she knows he’s probably beating himself up with guilt now, but the creepy texts over and phone calls...it suddenly all makes sense.
“Bucky...did you delete any of the photos?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer, as the phone call drops out. She’s left staring at the phone in horror of what she’s just been told. She quickly pops over to her web browser and does a reverse image search and is in horror of what she finds.
Her neck, her back, her pussy and her crack. Spread out. All over the internet.
“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, scrolling through all of the images that had just been meant for her boyfriend's eyes only.
Well, shit.
How’s she meant to explain this one to the Media department? |
e6dfc501003a45eeaaab1e2d9e42021f | ['bcc49c0a5fce448abab7be8ecdf6e6ea'] | Lance’s expression was warm when Keith met it. His face was radiant, illuminated by the light of the dimming fire. His cheekbones cut shadows that left Keith wanting to trace with his fingers. His lips parted in such a manner that it took Keith everything within him to keep from reaching out and brushing his thumb over them.
Lance was beautiful.
He was so, _so_ beautiful, and in that moment, Keith realized how truly and utterly _gone_ for him he was.
Tentatively, he lifted a hand, raising it to come to rest on the side of the boy’s cheek. Keith smiled, ever so gently. “Of course, I came back,” he whispered. “I’d come back to you anywhere.”
_I’d cross ten-thousand star systems for you. Travel a hundred light years just to see you smile._
Lance’s eyes crinkled. The hand that wasn’t in Keith’s grasp came to rest atop the one on his cheek, and the boy turned his head slightly to lean into the touch. Keith found himself leaning in, unable to remain where he was any longer.
“Lance, I….” He was being pulled in, gravitating towards Lance almost helplessly. Lance’s light was blinding, his touch burning. They were going to collide. Keith was going to break, he knew that. But Keith had never been able to run from fire, and this time was no different.
He wasn’t flying too close to the sun. He was running head first into the blazing inferno.
_Kiss him,_ his mind screamed. _Kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him._
His eyes closed the same time Lance’s did. Their breaths intertwined until Keith wasn’t sure where one of them began and the other ended. Their lips parted, growing ever closer.
And then they were thrown backwards.
Keith lifted himself up from the ground with a groan, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his head where he’d hit it. A little ways off from him, he saw Lance doing the same. Keith’s eyes searched, trying to find the cause for the interruption, and immediately found himself frowning.
Yorak lay between the two paladins, head resting on his paws and an amused glint in his eyes. His posture was relaxed, as though he were none the wiser to what he had just done.
“Really, Yorak?” Keith grumbled. The wolf raised his eyes to meet him, feigning innocence. He tilted his head, eyes going wide. Keith glared. “Don’t pull those eyes on me.”
A snort. A snicker. And then Lance was laughing, full-bellied and genuine. Yorak’s ears immediately perked, and before Keith could utter a warning, the wolf was at Lance’s side, pawing at him and licking the boy’s face without mercy. Keith rolled his eyes.
Figures his wolf would get to kiss Lance before him.
Despite it all, Keith couldn’t fight the smile that wound its way across his lips. He watched as Lance fell beneath Yorak’s weight, watched as the boy laughed and scratched the wolf’s ears as he played with him. Lance’s cheeks were flushed; his voice was coming out breathless.
Keith thought he had never looked more radiant.
Around them, the camp was growing quiet. The fire had dimmed to a few small embers, the last of the smoke rising up into the air. The rest of their team had scattered, retiring to their lions to turn in for the night. Above them, the moon shined down, painting everything in its glow and settling a calm, peaceful atmosphere over them.
Keith met Lance’s gaze from beneath Yorak’s fur.
_We have all the time in the world_ , he realized, shooting a smile the boy’s way.
All the time in the world, to figure it out together.
All the time in the world, to decide where to go from there.
Because despite everything—despite war and time and however many countless galaxies there were between them, the two of them would be there.
They would come back to each other.
_Always._
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you guys had fun with that! I know I had a blast writing it :)
>
> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, and as always, you can come scream about klance with me on my tumblr: LINK | f56f97bcb22a4c4790a4b283f5119880 | ['bcc49c0a5fce448abab7be8ecdf6e6ea'] |
1. Return
**Author's Note:**
> So, I thought I'd try something a little different with this. For the next 30 days, I'm going to be writing little klance fics based on a prompt list I've assembled for myself. Most will be about the length of this first one (maybe a little longer or shorter depending on how I'm feeling), and they'll all connect in an overarching fic that takes place after season 6!
>
> I really, really hope you guys like this. I've never done anything like this before, so it'll be a challenge to see if I can actually get one fic done in a day (I'm already a day behind oof).
>
> If you want to see all the prompts, you can find them all on my tumblr LINK
>
> Happy reading, guys! :D
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Keith and Lance share a conversation a few days into the beginning of the team's trip back.
The night air was cool and cutting, sending a jolt of shivers down Keith’s body, even in his paladin armour. The planet they had landed on seemed—from Coran’s research—more or less uninhabited. There weren’t many plants about, only a few dozen Keith could count within his vicinity. There wasn’t any water, either—or at least, not where their lions had touched down a few hours ago. The ground beneath him was red, shifting in waves as the wind brushed over it.
It reminded Keith a lot of the desert he had grown up in.
He found his eyes wondering. Their group had made camp for the night in a messy sort of circle, the lions parked behind and surrounding them. From his position leaning against Black, he could see Hunk, Pidge, and Coran tapping away on a tablet, most likely charting a course for the fastest way back to Earth. A little ways away from him, Allura was helping Shiro lie down in the makeshift cot the group had created. His mother and Romelle were speaking in hushed voices next to them, Yorak lying by their side.
It was quiet—a little too quiet, and it was perhaps this thought that had Keith sitting up, frowning as a strange restlessness washed over him.
The group was missing laughter.
It was missing warmth and cheerfulness. Missing blue eyes and tousled, windswept hair.
Keith found himself rising. He muttered a quick farewell to the rest of the group as he stood and turned, feet carrying him towards the hulking shadow of the red lion. His former ship sent out a greeting as he approached, low and familiar, and Keith smiled at the gesture. Red wasn’t as loud as he’d once been, but Keith could still feel the remnants of their connection in the back of his mind, strong despite the time they had spent away from one another.
_Where’s Lance, Red?_ he sent the lion’s way, stopping to lay a palm atop the cool metal.
The ship responded with a soft _purr_ and placed what might have been the word, _back_ , in Keith’s mind. The boy smiled, thanking Red silently. The lion gave another soft rumble as he rounded the corner.
And stopped.
He was seated atop the red sand, back to his lion and head tilted up to the stars overhead. He had one leg drawn in towards him, an arm resting gently on it, while the other stretched out before him in a lazy sprawl. His chest plate was strewn on the ground beside him, and with a pang, Keith realized that he was clad in nothing but his dark undersuit from the waist above.
He felt his cheeks redden, all but heard the pounding of his heart grow in intensity. The night’s breeze swept in then, lifting a few wayward strands of hair from atop the boy’s head. The planet’s single moon shone from above, and it bathed him in a soft, silver glow that lit his tan cheeks and defined his angular brow.
Lance turned his gaze to meet his then, and something in Keith’s chest fluttered.
“Hey,” the boy greeted warmly.
“H-hi,” Keith managed.
“Shouldn’t you be with the others?” Lance quirked an eyebrow at him, smiling, but shifted a little to the side to free up room. Seeing that as an invitation, Keith wandered closer.
“I, uh, noticed you were gone,” he began as he sat, settling his back against Red. Beside him, Lance let out a soft laugh.
“Yeah, I wanted some quiet.”
“Oh.” Keith felt his eyes widening. “Did-did you want me to leave?”
Lance let out another chuckle, this time returning his gaze to the sky. “No. No, you’re good, dude,” he whispered, and Keith watched as his eyes roamed the stars. It grew quiet between them then, the only sounds coming from the wind blowing past, and Keith used the opportunity to glance over at Lance.
There were bags beneath his eyes, ones Keith hadn’t noticed when he’d first gotten back. His skin, too, had become more ashen, dried out and pale in comparison to the glowing complexion he’d had before. The corners of the boy’s mouth were downturned in the slightest of frowns, and there was a sad tilt to his brow that had Keith reaching for him, unconsciously placing a hand atop his shoulder.
“Hey,” he found himself whispering, “are you okay?”
At his words, Lance smiled. “I’m fine.” The boy swatted his hand away playfully. “The last few days have just been a little overwhelming. I wanted to come here and take a small breather.” His eyes took on a teasing glint, but Keith noted with a dejected feeling how empty the expression looked.
“Are you done mothering me?” Lance bumped their shoulders together.
Keith frowned, even as he felt his cheeks reddening from the contact. “I’m not mothering you,” he muttered.
“And the sky’s not blue,” Lance teased. |
393a6b11dee54b078f24021807915f9f | ['bce68b3ebddf4b159b2a8daa203882a4'] |
Dragonhearth
I woke up before my master, and began preparing breakfast. I’m on my tenth year of apprenticeship under my master, Amelia. Amelia is a Blue Dragonkin from parts unknown, aged around 300 years old, though she looks as though she’s hardly in her 35th. Dragonfire imbues steel and mithril with magical properties not seen in even the strongest enchanter’s magicks. Being such a highly valued commodity, she has carved herself a cave high in the northern mountains on the border between Trenellia and Marcalcia in order to keep herself safe. Working only through contracts with the Overlord of the Three Nations, Amelia only makes an appearance in the capitol city when needed. The last appearance was when she chose an apprentice, me.
As I prepared my ever-growing portion of eggs and oats, a roar of a yawn shook the humble shack I shared with my master. In short order, Amelia stumbled into the kitchen. A set of pans hanging on the wall were knocked off by my master’s sleepy, clumsy tail. I sighed and sat a charred herbed haunch of wolf in front of her.
“Thank you, Nathaniel.” She pulled the spitted meat across the front of her short snout. “You know exactly how to pull me out of bed on lazy days.”
Lazy Days were what Amelia called the days in which there were no orders to be filled. Though they consisted of cleaning, and were very much not lazy.
I sat my bowl of oats and eggs down across from Amelia, and immediately tucked in. My Master began looking me over, contemplating me from behind the smoking meat in her hand.
“You’ve increased your intake again, haven’t you?” She asked after swallowing a whole serving. “Even though you’ve not aged in eight years, you keep growing, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master.” I nodded, setting my spoon down and salting my meal. “I’m growing stronger every day, and if I don’t feed myself well, I’ll be unable to perform at my peak.”
Amelia breathed a tongue of flame across her roasted wolf, charring it further. “It’s one of the perks of working with me.” She smiled. “You’re no longer a scrawny teenager unable to lift a smithing hammer. Though you’ve only aged several years, you’ve developed more than most others would in the span of these past ten years. Tell me, how does it feel to see the world continue to move around you while your natural processes have slowed to a crawl?”
She was teasing me again. “You know as well as I do that there’s nothing for me down there. I only knew the streets and which stall owners would look the other way when I nicked food from them. The politics and lives of the well-to-do mean nothing to me. The ‘friends’ I made on the streets turned on me as soon as I was accepted into your apprenticeship. They thought I’d forget about them and live high and mighty above them when I came back. Knowing they’ve aged ten years to my three over this past decade means nothing to me. I’ve entirely devoted myself to the trade, and I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll die doing this in a few hundred years. But it’s not as though I hate what you’ve given me. I quite enjoy the craft I’ve spent all this time learning, and will continue working even when you decide I’ve learned enough.”
“Well.” She said, swallowing another hunk of meat that would feed a family. “You are living quite high above them. But what if I never let you go? What if I take you on as my successor? I am coming on my 310th year, and I can’t continue this trade forever.”
“Oh don’t kid.” I shoveled more food into my mouth. “I know you’ve got at least another seven centuries before you get the the point where people would begin to consider you old.”
“What about after that, though?” She winked at me. “I’ll need someone to take care of me in my old age. And you’ll hardly be in your fifties by then. Daily exposure to my Dragonfire has magnificent effects on the body, after all.”
“We shall see.” I said, setting my spoon down in my now empty bowl. “You haven’t even given me an indication as to when I’ll earn the title of master. The contract you provided didn’t contain a clause against lifetime servitude, so I suppose I wouldn’t be able to protest.”
“There’s still so much I’ve left to teach you, Young Nathaniel.” She was cleaning the spit at the point. “So many secrets I’m unable to share. That is, until you show me that you’re ready for your very being to change.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, taking my bowl and the spit from her haunch of meat to the basin. “I’m only here to learn proper smithing technique, aren’t I?”
“On the surface.” She said, walking down the hall. “But who knows what else I can teach you along the way.”
By God, she was cryptic. I never knew what she meant when she went on about these secrets that she’s got set aside for me. And to be completely honest, it scared me. I might end up as dinner one day. Or I might get sick from the exposure to Amelia’s Dragonfire. Though, the latter seemed unlikely, as all its ever done is be beneficial to me and even the humans who wielded her steel and mithril. | 0fbb639115864a52960c19e110cf5fc1 | ['bce68b3ebddf4b159b2a8daa203882a4'] | By day seven, she was cantering by herself for short distances. At this time, I took it upon myself to handle the reshoeing. She fared well, and only cringed when I struck the first nail. By evening that day, she had a full set of my special horseshoes ready for her next trip. On day nine, I gave her my gift. The strong leather boots that I had made for her. The sole of the boot clipped to her horseshoe, and belted along the top to keep things tight and free of blowing debris. She was overjoyed and amazed that something like this wasn’t common enough to find in stores of her home nation. Maybe I had a future in centaur fashion? She thanked me profusely, and we again found ourselves staying up later than advisable. Just as soon as they started, the twelve days I had with Ebony ended. By the time her troupe arrived on the morning of the 13th day ready to head to the north, Ebony was able to maintain a full gallop for a few minutes. The sprain had healed up nicely, and the cuts and scrapes had closed and disappeared cleanly. After packing his employers things on to the cart of the troupe’s personal belongings, her assistant handed me a small leather purse with 250 silver in it. It was more than enough for the stay, materials used, food provided, and it even covered my gift to Ebony twice over after all that. I tried to protest, and only take my standard rate plus materials, but Ebony stepped behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t fight it.” She laid her other hand on my opposite shoulder and leaned toward my ear. “You treated me like royalty, and not just the horses of royalty. Your gift was more than I could ask for, and your company was wonderful. I intend to order a handful of cases of your horse beer the next time I’m coming through town. I don’t think I can live without it now, you understand?” She kissed my cheek, let me go, and strode past me in my stunned silence.
Before she ordered the caravan to move northward, I managed to say something to her, hoping to leave an impression. Sucking up all my nervous energy, I spoke. “I made those new boots of yours to fit with any shoe you wear, but I can’t be sure. Maybe when you make your way through again, you can give me a bit of information about your time wearing them? You’re not a patient whose name I’d like to forget.”
Ebony smiled, nodded with just her head, and choked back a sob. “I think that’s a great idea. Also don’t you worry a single bit, I want you to remember my name.”
As she turned away, I had to wipe tears from my eyes. I saw her off, went back to my cottage, and didn’t stop thinking about that lovely woman for months. I knew she’d be back. It was obvious she wanted to come back, and I think her troupe wanted to see her back as well. The life of a trader, though. It’s tedious and unforgiving. She would travel halfway around the continent and through a dozen countries before she’d make it back to my little shop in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest safe trade route. I knew I’d wait, but I admit having my doubts about her. Not that she wasn’t a good person, of course. We, as in myself and her, were not a real thing. At least I didn’t think we were. And I wouldn’t have held it against her if she never returned. Though, I assume you’ve already guessed that she came back since I continue to write about her.
Seven long months had passed since Ebony left my stable for the north. A load of things had happened since then. A leatherworker from Malorene reached out to me to put my idea for the boots I’d design into wider production. By the end of that week, when production moved forward at a stable pace, every centaur on the continent was aware of my product and wanted one. The money from that deal left me well off. Set for life, if I’m completely honest. Though I loved my trade and didn’t want to quit it just because I didn’t need to do it anymore. By the end of the sixth month, I had my home and stables rebuilt. I was no longer in a two room cottage. My stables weren’t drafty log buildings anymore. I was in tight with the Lord of this particular area of the kingdom, and was his personal farrier. I was busier than ever, and I loved every second of it. Though it all felt empty. Sure, I’d been sweet on girls in the past, but I’d never been this obsessed over one. Everything in my heart was screaming that I shouldn’t let Ebony leave next time she came through town. As the seventh month was coming to an end, I was awoken in the early morning by a knock on my door. Assuming it was some emergency, I hurily buckled my work clothes over my pyjamas and swung the door wide open. I was met by a warm embrace and that same lilting laughter I mentioned earlier. Before I could even voice my surprise, Ebony lowered herself to me and kissed me soundly on the lips. |
ab04b793518e4a8fbbc4c1dd2469130a | ['bd0822e86d4049578f107454e7c79dcd'] | His face changed into a cartoonish looking skull. “The crew that worked for them were aware that their jobs were risky. There’s pockets of assorted dump sites and landfills around Silent Line; hard to believe with how well stuff grows around here, huh? Those places are thankfully very, very deep underground. This one here in particular is a hell of a doozy, as it was definitely poorly managed pre-collapse. It’s got all the components of the great American post-apocalyptic holy trinity: radioactive waste, medical waste, and of course, decades’ worth of putrefying garbage. The crew owned the best protection gear available; Ford has managed to invent suits that outrank the pre-collapse ones by miles. What they _didn’t_ know was that the area had become home to a shitload of the not so cuddly kind of critters. So while the crew was protected from every kind of environmental hazard possible, they didn’t bring weapons with them, since all the places they’d worked in before were devoid of anything unfriendly. You can probably guess how that turned out for them.”
_Oooooooh boy._ The twins simultaneously had a feeling they knew where this was going.
“Okay, pause for a moment. I’m gonna take a wild guess that we’re somehow going to have to be involved in getting the tunnel finished and/or clearing the things out?” Mabel asked.
Beelz now displayed himself as a dancing stick figure. “Whoop, whoop! Right on target lady. Well today y'all are just gonna work on the creatures. Lucky for you, I’ve been keeping tabs on this place for several years. My abilities are limited but I’ve managed to keep the population low enough that if you take out as many of the things as you can while you’re down there, their numbers will drop to the point where they won’t be able to repopulate, thus eventually dying out. Not that we’ll have to wait for that to happen, as I’ve got a crew coming in to finish that tunnel, and they’re _hella_ prepared to deal with whatever stragglers are left over.”
Dipper shifted anxiously around on his feet. “Family is important, and I do want to meet our great uncles, but why can’t we just wait for this crew to show up? Mabel and I can put up a fight, but we’ve gone up against people, not aggressive mutated animals.”
Shifting back to emojis, the screen displayed a thinking face. “Well, where the crew is traveling from, they’ll be here in a month tops. Jerusalem firestarters can breed up to three generations in that time, and out of all the things crawling down there, those are the ones I have the hardest time picking off. Also not gonna lie to you kiddos, I _am_ curious to see how well you do in a fight. I’ve heard you talk about wanting to eventually see what the rest of the country is like. If you want to do that you’re gonna have to get used to fighting big, ugly things, cause outside of Oasis, the world full of them. Hell, the muties down there are bunnies compared to some of the abominations crawling along the beaches in Long Coast.”
Beelz put back on his original face, this time displaying a soft expression. “Don’t worry kiddos, I’ll be here to hold your hand for your first mutant animal hunt. Plus, remembering that first conversation; To satisfy your curiosity and offer a bribe, there _are_ some pre-collapse goodies down there. The protection equipment is all intact, and I have access to all of the wired parts of the system that still work.”
Mabel, who had been unusually quiet, turned to Dipper. “So this sounds risky, but I think the reward is definitely worth it. Besides the stuff we can scav down there, if that place has electricity that means our grunkles both own and work with tech.” she paused to think for a moment, then let out a gleeful squeal. “ **OH MY GOD**. Dipdop, you know what this means? This means we’re going on a frickin’ fantasy style _quest_. Characters whose skills balance each other’s out? Check. Quest given by weird magical talking thingamajig-being? Check. Quest involving the slaying of dangerous creatures? _Motherfuckin’ check_!” She pumped her fist in the air, whooping as she sprinted back to the house, likely with the intent to get her gear.
Dipper stared at the spot where his sister had been standing just a moment ago, completely flabbergasted.
Beelz, a sentient AI-like thing lives in the wires or electricity or some shit, _inside_ the lift which is located _inside the fucking tree in the middle of their meadow_. Their great uncles are actually alive, the nomants they ran into months back actually work for them- **wait** , and this Beelz guy has been watching them like a fucking creep for an entire week!
“Mabel, if we die I _swear_ I will have my ghost haunt you for life. Even if we both die, I’ll still find a way to haunt you anyway.”
Well, so much for a night of relaxing in the meadow before eating dinner. Wait. Dinner?
“ **SHIT!** I forgot I left the food on the fire! **_Nooooooooooo!_** ” he heard his sister wail in the distance.
Still better than being enslaved to a rank. Way better.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, Beelz? I normally don't dig fanfics with OCs since half the time they're not well fleshed out. However, while I was doing the worldbuilding, he ended up being created and I felt like he fit really well among the canon cast. No, he's not Bill, although they're definitely both assholes haha. Beelz will be an important part of a certain character's backstory, but comes later. There won't be many OCs in this story; Beelz will the only recurring one, the others will either have short scenes or will be mentioned-only characters. Sorry about another chapter with a lot of ambiguity, but everything will be come to fruition. There are reasons behind everything ;D
>
> **Trivia for Chapter 4:** This should have probably been put in the first chapter; the way you pronounce Sdakg's name is su-da-keg. I completely pulled it out of my ass, so if that actually is a real name I did not know.
> Before shampoo existed, one of the many ways which people would wash their hair was by using vinegar, putting herbs in the mixture to give it some perfume.
> At first I thought the grunkles making the twins take care of clearing the mutants was kind of harsh. Especially since they haven't met yet. But then I thought back to my favorite Ford scene in the show; the one where he gives Mabel a crossbow, then realizing he hasn't been to that dimension in a while, he assumes it's okay to give children weapons (lol). I thought to myself that yeah, Stan would be busy handling the nomant business, so Ford would probably be overseeing the more technical tasks. Especially since the twins are adults here, he would assume it to be 100% okay to have them go up against mutant animals xD
> I grew up reading a lot about Spaniard mythology, and decided to incorporate some in the story. A xana is a sort of water nymph. Depending on the region there's stories about them either being really kind or really mean. A xanino is the actual term for a half-human half-xana child, the whole bit about why they're changelings also part of the mythology. I don't remember how fast they were supposed to grow; I designated a year for this story, but I actually think they became fully grown adults in 6 months. Either way, they grew into adults in a ridiculously short amount of time.
**Author's Note:**
> Follow my Tumblr @ LINK for fic updates, fanfic art/concept sketches, other fandom art/writing, or if you just wanna be friends and nerd out about any fandoms we have in common :) | 22f6e6d3b897478c8c001f287f8e969a | ['bd0822e86d4049578f107454e7c79dcd'] | Using different plants Dipper had gathered from the meadow and surrounding forest, he mixed up dyes in all sorts of colors to decorate their house. Mabel had painted a big star on the outer wall of her floor, while Dipper decided on putting the alchemical glyphs he’d seen on the lift. He didn’t know why, but he just felt a strange sense of comfort from them.
He watched as his sister walked over to their pile of supplies, grabbing her shirt to wipe at her face and neck. “Ugh, man now that we’re settled I could SO go for a bath.”
“Ditto. Most of the supplies are already put away, why don’t we head down to the pond and finish putting the rest away tomorrow?” Dipper asked.
Mabel nodded. “Sounds good! I’ll take the opportunity to gather wood too while we’re there since tonight I’m on dinner duty.” She headed inside her part of the house, rummaging around for a clean set of clothes and her tools.
_We’ve already got a surplus of plant materials, I think I’ll bring one of the Aureolus volumes to read while she does that._ Dipper thought to himself.
He climbed the ladder up to his floor, grabbing what he needed before coming back down; his sister already waiting for him.
They made their way through the meadow, then parted the bushes into the forest. The way to the pond was a short walk, and minutes later the twins were happily submerged in the refreshing water.
A serene silence settled around them, both focused on washing off the accumulated layers of filth and sweat on their skin. As they both began to wash their hair with Mabel’s herbal vinegar, she spoke up.
“So. I know we haven’t really talked about uh, ‘heavy’ stuff since y’know, we’ve been moving non-stop since leaving the village. But I wanted to get a few things off my chest, I guess..” she paused as she dunked her head beneath the water to rinse off the vinegar, resurfacing shortly after.
“We’ve got a home with a gorgeous view, rich in resources. We ain’t going to go hungry here. There’s no one we have to bow to. No one to steal our stuff, call us names; we don’t have to sleep with our weapons anymore or worry about some Alpha dickweed trying to turn us into sex slaves.” she giggled softly as she watched tadpoles curiously inspect her feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that the realization that we’re free kinda just hit me today. Even when mom and dad were alive, we still didn’t have this level of freedom. How are things on your end bro?” she asked.
Dipper was silent, needing to think for a moment. He hadn’t even thought about their newfound freedom; his mind consumed by traveling, reading, and then the construction. His eyes widened as an influx of thoughts and ideas began to make their way around his head. There were _so_ many things they could do now, the possibilities were endless.
“Shit Mabel, it just sank in for me.” he chuckled. “I’d think I’d like to live a few calm years here, but imagine; once we get bored of the serenity, we can finally explore the rest of the world like we wanted to when we were kids. Discover the horrors and mysteries of post-collapse America.”
She gave a huge smile at that. “We’re definitely still going by ‘The Mystery Twins’ right?”
“Definitely.”
\----------------------------
_Guillermo Aureolus._
_One of history’s greatest renaissance men, yet his name is almost completely unknown; only those who are deeply involved in research of occultism may run into snippets of his name. Or of course, if you dear reader, have the luck to find this series of books I have written. I only printed three sets of this series. Now you may ask, “Sdakg, why would you do that?” After all, if one decides to pour hours of research into writing a man’s biography, surely the author must want said man to become well renowned?_
_Not so fast dear reader. Yes, this is a tale of a very interesting man’s life; a man who certainly deserves recognition. However, just like with the famous Abramelin text, a vast amount of secrets and knowledge from Aureolus’s personal magic system are contained within. While a fine mage in his own right, comparing the abilities of Abramelin to Aureolus is like comparing the intensity of the flame of a candle to an unstoppable wildfire._
_If you have pursued and gotten your hands on these books, it means you are worthy to know of this great magic. While I’d love for the name of Sir Aureolus to be in every world history text ever made, making knowledge of such powerful magic public would cause disaster. Only those with the tenacity and extreme thirst to know everything there is to know deserve to be bestowed these secrets._
_So before we begin, I say congratulations to you dear reader. You have found a metaphorical treasure chest; make use of your spoils wisely._
_Like most magic users, Aureolus was born not fully of human descent. My most credible of sources tells me that he actually was never human at all, but gained a human side because of a series of laws related to cosmic politics._
_Powerful creatures share some similarities with humans; they are people, sentient beings. They have personalities, likes, dislikes, and the ability to change over time. Most human beings do not know this, as evidenced by the mostly stagnant popular religious beliefs._
_These creatures come in all shades of moralities, as that is what makes a well balanced cosmos. However, if a powerful creature becomes too out of control and disrupts the balance, there are entities whose job it is to subdue them in order to bring the balance back._ |
83f77449a2154b44a1b50a77c60150bd | ['bd16843bc9e144fb9d592bc2799e05d3'] | "Yeah, that's true, he was an idiot," said BigTime.
"I never should have said you were kicked out of the group," Bankjob continued. "We could never replace you!"
Babyface smiled. "That a promise?"
Bankjob grinned. "I promise."
Babyface quivered with joy and sprang up into his big brother's arms. Was that actin' immature…? He didn't care. He was just so happy to be back with his brothers again.
"Aww," the girls said in unison. Boom-Boom came and kissed him on the nose, a tear running down her cheek.
"You'll come visit your cousins, won't you?" Bouffant sniffled.
Babyface grinned. "Nope!"
Bankjob laughed. "Ahahaha! That's our brat!"
The three Beagle Boys reached the car and were ready for their drive home.
"Hey, BJ, can I drive?" Babyface asked, popping into the driver's seat.
"Haha. Yeah, sure, why not…" Bankjob started. Then his face fell. "Wait, wait! NO! The brakes, the brakes! SHHHHHH-"
What was left of the junker sped down the slope and smashed into the alley wall with a deafening crash.
"Ohhh," BigTime cringed.
"Dangit, Babyface," Bankjob moaned.
Then from the wreckage a voice called out.
"Aw, come on you guys! It was an _accident!"_
6. Double Date
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Happy Valentine's Day! Bouncer and Bankjob fall for the same girl when on a heist and compete to win her heart.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I apologize the story seems kind of rushed.
>
> I intentionally didn't describe the girl at all, that wasn't an accident ;)
"Alright, you guys ready!?" Bankjob asked as he parked the van outside of the Duckburg Flower Shop. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at his two brothers
"Ooh, yeah!" squealed Burger, bouncing in his seat. "Ma sure is gonna love this boo-gay we swipe for her! It'll be the best Valentine's ever!"
"Well, she's da only woman we gots in our lives," Bouncer said with a snicker. "So don't she deserve the best?"
Bankjob slammed the car door and motioned to Bouncer. "Burger, you take the wheel and keep the motor runnin'. This'll only take a minute."
The two burly Beagles chuckled and walked into the shop, guns at the ready.
"A'rite, everyone, stay where you are!" barked Bankjob.
All the patrons in the store screamed and froze in place.
Bankjob started to snatch handfuls of flowers from the displays. To be honest, he had no idea what he was doing, but all it had to do was look nice, right?
"Go empty the register," he called to Bouncer.
Bouncer nodded and stalked over to the checkout counter with his gun held high, twisting his face nastily. He was tough, he was terrifyin', and you better not mess with him!
"Alright, lady! Gimme all the…"
The girl at the register raised her arms in the air, with her eyes wide. "Wait, don't shoot!"
Bouncer's scowl fell. She was….kinda pretty.
He must've been staring for a few moments, because the next thing he knew Bankjob was slapping him on the back, holding a horrendous clump of mixed flowers. "Hey, come on! What's the hold up?"
Bankjob's eyes met the girl's and a smile curled on his lips. "Hey."
The girl just whimpered and dove under the counter.
In the distance, the sound of sirens was starting up.
Bankjob grabbed Bouncer by the arm and the two dashed out of the store and into the getaway car. Burger slammed on the gas and with a screech, they were up and down the street in a puff of exhaust.
"So'd ya get it?" asked Burger, taking his eyes off the road to see the floral abomination.
"Yep!" Bankjob said. "And I got every kind of flower in here, I think! Daisies, roses…um, and big spotted daisies."
Bouncer said nothing.
"Whatsamatter, Bouncer?" Bankjob asked, prodding him. "You looks like you ate some of Burger's old grilled cheese."
"What?! I was savin' that!" Burger yelled, making a sharp turn at the corner.
Bankjob smiled. "Oh, I know! You was checkin' out that dame, weren't you?"
Bouncer felt his cheeks grow warm. "W-what…you know that's not it!"
Bankjob smirked. "I dunno. Girl was pretty cute. 'Specially for someone from this side of Duckburg."
"Hey, who's ya talkin' about?" Burger asked.
"Your mom!" Bankjob snapped.
"Huh. Guess I never thought of her 'dat way," Burger mused.
Bouncer flopped down on his bunk with his thoughts racing. Valentine's Day was tomorrow. Normally, it was just another ordinary day of the year, but…she'd been on his mind ever since.
He tried to shake it away, but nothin' worked. Much as he hated to admit it, he liked her. And he hadn't liked a girl since…well, it'd been a long time. And every one of those instances had ended in disaster.
But he had to somehow make it up to her! He gritted his teeth as he thought how she was dealing with everything; the police, her boss, the missing inventory. Ugh. He'd honestly never cared before now.
Bugle, who had quietly listening to his music on another bunk, gave him an annoyed look. "You gonna keep sighing all night, man?"
"Sorry."
Bugle hopped down from his bed and looked over his brother scrutinizingly. "Y'know, when I feel low, I like to write poetry."
"Well 'dat's stupid," Bouncer commented. Bugle looked affronted.
Then Bouncer thought for a moment. "Hold on…No. 'Dat's great!" He grabbed a tiny notepad and pen and started scribbling away.
"Jerk," Bugle muttered, leaving. Nobody understood art these days.
_Hulo mistry gurl._
_i want to mak up 4 wat hapeen at the flowor store. pls meat me aftr work, 2marow..._
_-ur sekrit admyr_
"Hey, Bounce, wanna toss around tha old pigskin?" Bankjob shuffled in with a football under his arm. "Baggy an' Burger say they're in." He stopped short as Bouncer tried desperately to hide the letter he was writing. "What's that?"
Bouncer blushed again. "I, uh…it's nothin'!"
But Bankjob had already snatched it out of his hand. | e8f9b05bddf6420f99422e753c0b4507 | ['bd16843bc9e144fb9d592bc2799e05d3'] | She then climbed out of the car, slamming the door and starting off, briefly looking back and smiling.
"...Good night." Komiya echoed softly, watching her disappear into the shadows.
6. The Perfect Gift
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Komiya comes face to face with his realization that he's fallen in love with Tsunoda.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Well, here's the chapter I expect most people were waiting for.
> But it doesn't stop here!
> Its just getting started!
>
> Enjoy.
The lights of the city sped past as he started his journey home.
Komiya took a deep shaky breath.
What had just happened?
He gripped the steering wheel harder, his body trembling slightly, but it wasn't from the cold. His heart seemed to have found its way into his throat.
Nothing...it was nothing!
Tsunoda had just been playing with him again, probably even finding it all the more hilarious in her intoxicated state
So why did he feel like he'd just been struck by lightning? Like little jolts of electricity were still prickling on his fur, coursing through him? There was a hot, churning pit in his stomach, like he was up front about to make a speech in front of the entire department.
It felt terrible.
And it felt wonderful.
He would gladly have sang on stage if she’d only asked.
His cheeks were still hot, tingling where her soft lips had kissed him.
"Ohhh, no." Komiya scolded himself. "No way. No. Not gonna happen."
But the more one side of him tried to deny it, the harder the other side pushed back.
Tsunoda...
Tsunoda.
And with a heavy, surrendering sigh, Komiya knew that he could no longer fight his feelings.
\--
Komiya had wanted to message her the very next morning to check up on her and ask how she was.
_Did you have a hangover? Did you sleep well? Wait, you didn't die during the night, right?!_
But with firm determination he resisted, doing this best by keeping his phone out of arm's reach and busying himself with chores and time at the gym.
He ran a good five miles on the treadmill, but when his mind wandered to the night before, his heart went haywire and he had to cut it short.
After that, he went down to the coin laundry with a basket and magazine in hand.
Depositing in the correct change, Komiya leaned against the washer and flipped through idly, before his eyes fell on an advertisement for a sweet matcha tea.
_Tsunoda would probably love something like this._
He blushed a little, shaking the thought away, and focused back on the spinning tumble of the machines.
Later that evening, Komiya was sifting through the flood of emails and helping himself to some frozen fried rice.
Spam. Spam. One of Yokosawa's stupid chain mails for miracle skin she always forwarded to everyone in the office. Ton bitching about his work performance. More spam.
He'd just managed to sort through and was about to pack it all up when a thought occurred to him.
_Heh....I wonder if Tsunoda's ever even looks at these._ It didn't seem likely, not when she was so preoccupied with...
Promptly, he puffed his cheeks in annoyance and snapped the laptop shut. This was just getting ridiculous.
For once, the meerkat was looking forward to Monday.
Maybe once he saw her, saw everything back to normal, this bizarre fever of his would disappear.
Most of all, he just needed to see her face.
It was the start of a new month, and that meant what everyone had been dreading: the monthly morning meeting.
Komiya watched and checked off his list as everyone milled into the conference room. When Tsunoda walked in she gave him a happy little wave before taking her seat between Yokosawa and Arihiko.
Komiya swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. Well, there went that theory out the window.
As usual, Director Ton was the last to arrive, wobbling into the room huffing and puffing like he'd run up ten flights of stairs.
"Everyone here, Komiya?" He grunted, shoving past the meerkat and hanging his coat on the corner rack.
"Yes, sir!"
"Let's get started."
The carefree, nonchalant attitude from Friday night was completely absent; now everyone was back to business mode.
"Now, our last quarter did not end the year on a high note. According to sales, we're at an all-time low, and communications have been our customer service has been hitting the crapper."
Everyone exchanged looks around the conference table.
"Now, I've been over the books again and again," Ton went on, "And I have to say, while I'm disappointed with the numbers, I've got my hunches this whole damn mess started out because one of the other departments dropped the ball _hard._ " His fingers drummed on the table. "So. Here's the deal. Til the end of the quarter, we're gonna be working _twice_ as hard to make up for those idiots' foul."
There was a collective groan around the table.
"Did I ask for your opinions?!" Ton roared, shutting them all up.
"Komiya, load up the report."
"Sir!" Komiya jumped to attention, fumbling with the laptop. A line graph was prepared on the screen, and he spun it around to display to the crowd. "As the Director said, you're all going to have show some initiative!"
He chuckled, but he knew there was nothing remotely funny about his quip.
"Suck-up!" someone coughed loudly.
"Make it look good, and that looks good for accounting. If it looks good for accounting, we're talking _bonuses_." Ton grinned.
And that changed everyone's tune.
The meeting lasted another extensive, drawn-out hour, covering a variety of subjects, but at long last, it came to its close.
Yawning and grumbling, the crowd dispersed. |
07efddb317bd4e709ce24023d2b614b1 | ['bd5eb2d919fd4375ae39553fe0374e0f'] |
i loved and i loved and i lost you
Their bedroom was light when he opened his eyes. The blinds that covered the windows didn’t do much to shield the sharp sun that hit Magnus’ eyes. Magnus shifted to his side, taking his boyfriend’s arm around him in the process. He smiled softly to himself, 15 more minutes can’t possibly hurt anyone.
Magnus woke up an hour later, still in the same position with Alec’s arm laced around his waist. Something didn’t feel right. Alec’s arm felt cold and heavy against his own warm body. Where he normally would feel Alec’s hot breath hit his neck, he felt nothing but stillness.
‘’Alec, darling, are you awake?’’ Magnus didn’t notice the trembling in his voice. There was no response and Magnus squeezed Alec’s hand, probably much harder than he originally had planned. But Magnus knew that Alec wouldn’t mind at this point.
‘’Alexander, please.’’ Magnus voice broke at the end of the mention of his name; he didn’t notice that his body had started shaking before the first tear had shed on his pillow case. Against his broad back, he felt Alec’s cold chest. And he felt no familiar heartbeat. The same heartbeat he had woken up to almost every day for 67 years.
Magnus laid there for what felt like hours, he felt like he couldn’t move nor breathe. It felt like everything had just stopped, but the only thing that had stopped was Alec’s living form.
‘’Alec, please, I’m not ready, I can’t-‘’ his words got cut off by a loud sob that escaped his mouth, ‘’Alec,’’ Magnus turned around slowly, didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his face.
Now facing his husband’s cold, white lifeless form, he reached out, taking Alec’s icy face in his hands. He traced every feature, like he always did when Alec was sleeping, but this time it was different. This time was most likely the last time he would be able to do this, to memorize every detail of his face. In a few days Alec’s body would be under in a wooden coffin under the ground.
And all Magnus would be left alone with was memories, pictures and his own broken heart.
Magnus took Alec’s arm in his hand and pulled it off of him. Once he was sitting straight up in their bed, he took another close look at him. He looked so peaceful, almost like he was just sleeping still. Oh, how much Magnus wished that was true.
Reaching for his phone he found Max’s number, and pressed ’call’. It ringed four times before Max answered from the other end, ‘’Hey, dad! What’s up?’’
Magnus smiled at his son’s cluelessness, he wished he didn’t know either, he wanted nothing less than to talk to Max about how he was doing. But he knew that had to wait, he now had to tell his son that his dad had passed away in his sleep. He didn’t know where to start, how to say it without just breaking? Without his sobbing taking over his ability to form words? How could he put into words that the love of his life was no longer breathing? It was all too much.
‘’Max, where are you now?’’ The other line was silent for a second, ‘’I’m home? Dad, what’s going on? Is papa alright?’’ Magnus silenced his sob as much as he could.
‘’Y-you-, its best of you sit down, Max.’’ he wanted to be strong for his son; he wanted it more than he wanted his tears to stop streaming, more than he wanted his lungs to stop aching.
‘’He’s gone, Max, I’m sorry.’’ Then he let himself break again, silent hiccups filling the silent room. He was still holding Alec’s arm in his hand, needed him for comfort. He wasn’t ready to be alone, and he wasn’t about to start before he had to.
Magnus heard Max’s silent sobs, and they both stayed like that for a few minutes before Max broke the silence. ‘’I’m coming over, I won’t let you take him alone, please don’t fight me on it.’’ Magnus couldn’t do anything but nod with his phone still to his ear, but Max knew him, he knew him almost as much as Alec does.
Did.
Almost as much as Alec did.
Max hung up and Magnus placed his phone on the night stand again. He couldn’t bring himself to look as the lifeless form lying beside him. Magnus brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight. Tears never stopped streaming but he felt emotionless. How was he supposed to do now? What would he say to Max when he came into their apartment?
After a short amount of time, he heard a knock on his door. He threw the covers to the side and stepped down from the bed and made his way to their front door. Magnus opened the door without asking who it was, already expecting Max.
In the door frame he was greeted by Max’s trembling blue form, ‘’Where is he?’’ Magnus pointed to their bedroom, and let his son walk part him. He watched Max walk steadily, disappearing into the room. Seconds passed and then he could hear Max’s silent cry, the sound of something hitting the floor and he wasted no time while he sprinted to him.
In his bedroom he found Max’s shaking form in a ball curled together on the floor, he had fallen to his knees and now his face was hidden in his hands. Magnus fell down beside him and took him into his arms, and Max hugged him back tight.
Like that they cried together. Max cried for his father and Magnus for his husband. | f716bd7b88374625880a3c50a28a1c1e | ['bd5eb2d919fd4375ae39553fe0374e0f'] | Save you
‘’How could you do this to me!’’ Shadowhunters yelled at Freeform.
For the past 3 years they had been dating. Freeform had never treated Shadowhunters right, never fully committed, always lied and ruined opportunities for them. But this was by far the worst thing Freeform had ever done to them. Shadowhunters had found Freeform cheating on them with Guilt in their own bed.
Shadowhunters’ friend ,Netflix, had always told them that they were way too good her Freeform, that Freeform was a lying cheating whore. But Shadowhunters thought that they could change them, make them better. They thought they were soul mates, but apparently not.After taking a soul mate test, they found out that they were not, in fact, soul mates.
They had talked after that for hours, finding out what to do next, but Freeform told Shadowhunters that they loved them, and that they would never leave them behind for some other whore. But Shadowhunters was wrong yet again.
‘’I’m sorry, you know you’re my favorite, but this was purely financial. I couldn’t go on living a lie. We’re not even soul mates!’’ Freeform continued arguing,
‘’I don’t fucking care. You said you would try for another year! I’m the best thing that has ever happened to you! You could’ve told me that you wanted to break up, and I would’ve moved on with another, but then you cheat on me in our bed with another slut!’’ Shadowhunters cried, throwing in all the insults that they could.
‘’You know I hate it when you curse! Please, let’s not make this any harder than it already is. You know I am a fan of you, that’s why I can’t let you move on with someone new. We’ll be together for another year then I’ll dump you for someone else. And that’s it.’’ Freeform stated, not letting Shadowhunters speak anymore.
Shadowhunters grabbed their keys and ran out, ran towards the first person that came to their mind. Netflix always made them feel so much better and happier after Shadowhunters and Freeform had a fight. Shadowhunters knew, somewhere in their heart that Netflix would take care of them.
Netflix opened the door, seeing a distressed, hurt and devastated Shadowhunters in the entry, ‘’Shadowhunters, W-What happened? What’s going on?’’ But Shadowhunters didn’t reply, they simply collapsed into Netflix’s arms and sobbed. Netflix then took Shadowhunters inside, let them support themselves on them and led them to Netflix’s couch, where they simply chilled for a moment.
‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ Netflix whispered. Shadowhunters sighed, whipped their cheeks and told everything, from the soul mate test, to theirs and Freeform’s talk to finding Freeform in their bed with Guilt. Even the part where Freefrom had said that they would keep Shadowhunters around until they grew tired of them.
Netflix grew mad, and yelled in frustration, ‘’I fucking told you they were a piece of shit! They never deserved you, I knew you were meant for someone so much better.’’
‘’Like who?’’ Shadowhunters whispered, throat hoarse after sobbing for so long in Netflix’s arms, ‘’Who would want a damaged piece like me? Not even Freeform wanted me. And like you said, Freeform is a piece of shit, and not even they wanted me around. They rather wanted a shitshow like Guilt.’’
‘’Who?’’ Netflix said.
‘’Exactly.’’ Shadowhunters finished.
Netflix sighed, and sat back down on the couch and took Shadwohunters’ hand, looking them straight in the eyes, ‘’Maybe you deserve someone like me? I know this had been a rough week for you, but I have to say this… I think you’re my soul mate. I love you.’’
Shadowhunters gasped, and their heart swelled at the thought. Did they really want to pick up the pieces that Freeform had left behind?
Shadowhunters then started crying again, but this time, it was happy tears. Netflix took Shadowhunters’ left cheek in their hand and the other hand on their heart, and whispered, ‘’Let me save you.’’
Shadowhunters and Netflix kissed then, and by their hearts beating so fast, and their skin tingling they knew that they were soul mates.
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on twitter @pleasesavesh
>
> #saveshadowhunters #pickupshadowhunters |
d3e9601c7a7e43699bde57149e58bf61 | ['bd9b351a347445df89f32f11987a16c1'] |
1. Chapter 1
Rafael Barba POV
"If the case gets prolonged anymore, we'll lose it. He could walk away." Amanda informed us.
"We can't let that happen, the bastard's a psychopath. 'I raped her' is written all over his face." Stated Amaro.
Liv shook her head, "Yeah, but there is not enough solid evidence to convict him, or even hold him, which we already did."
"Damn it." Nick slammed his fists to the table, waking Liv, but the rest were to tired to react.
I turned my head to examine him. He was exhausted, his energy being drawn out till it's end. In fact, the posture of the whole group, including myself, was overwhelming. We might lose this case.
I flipped through the case file in my hand my for hundredth time. It was the same information, yet it was like I expected something to change. Jacob Swanson, a mid-twenties male, accused of raping Claire Morrow, nineteen year old college girl.
No hard evidence.
We were able to interrogate him once before, but all we got was him refusing to know of any contact with her. Then his grandmother barged into the office demanding the release of her grandchild, for reasons she exclaimed personal. After that, nothing. We need to talk to him, but we couldn't hold him.
I walked over to the table under a window where my coffee laid. This is my fourth cup this morning alone, yet I still don't have the energy to think this one through.
My eyes scanned the outside from the window as my lips met the edge of the cup and the familiar taste of caffeine appeased me. Through the window, I noticed someone was pacing outside the building.
"Counselor, whatcha watching out there," Fin's comment made me jump slightly. I brushed it off hoping it went unnoticed.
"I, don't know yet."
I yawned, looking down at the coffee in disappointment, setting the cup back on the table.
Nick cocked his head before walking towards me and the window, Fin shortly followed.
"I think that's our guy, Swanson." Fin pointed out.
"Then I'll invite him inside, for a talk." I made the rash decision as I began walking out of the office.
My arm was roughly grabbed by Nick, "You can't go out there, we don't know why he's out there in the first place."
Not one of us dared to move for a solid minute and a half, staring dead into each other's eyes.
"That's what I intend to find out," I looked down at my arm. "Now, are we having a moment or will you let my arm go."
He evidently let go, though very hesitantly. If he hadn't, he would have shown the whole office an intense moment that wouldn't have ended if it continued. A bit of out private lives would have been revealed.
"Thank you."
I briskly walked from the office to the elevator. I straightened my jacket once I pressed the button for the first floor. Soon, right before the doors could have crushed him, the one and only Nick Amaro slid thought the doors to stand by my side.
"I wasn't going to let you go alone. The others said they would follow shortly behind, but stay inside."
I turned my head to him. "Gracias, Amaro." I looked down as a million thoughts ran through my head at once, "good to know you care."
We were silent, so the only sound one could hear would be the sound of the elevator beeping past each floor. When the elevator stopped and the door opened, Nick allowed me to walk in front of him; he followed close behind.
Jacob hadn't seen us coming up to him, he remained pacing around the same spot. Nick agreed to stay a bit behind and let me do the talking.
"Morning Mr. Swanson, is there something I could help you with." I said, adjusting my suit once again.
He jumped slightly at the sound of my voice.
"What? I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here, but we need to talk." he muttered, his whole body shaking. His tone was almost like a scared child, kind of like the first time we talked to him, but more fearful now.
"We can talk inside, it's much warmer too," I tried to please him with a smile, but he kept a distance face.
"What's your name," he asked.
"ADA, Rafael Barba." I put my hand out for him to shake, but he just stood there.
His posture had straightened out and he was watching every inch of me, ever since he heard my name.
"Would you like to go inside now." I asked.
He only nodded and took a step then another. I nodded for Nick to walk ahead. He agreed but kept his hand to his side, over his gun.
"I'm sorry," he whispered enough for me to barely hear him.
I threw my attention to him, but in less than a second I could see his arm rushing towards my face, an object in his hands.
I lost balance and soon my head impacted with the cold cement, making the pain from the hit worse.
I groaned, but, seeing this guy still coming, I tried to get up, only being knock back down.
"Nick!" I screamed.
The pain, streaming in my body, worsened by the second, by each hit. I could feel the blood dripping down from different places on my skull, and my vision became blurry.
The pressure of his big figure on top of mine lessened. I struggled to lift my head up to see the area around me. With my blurred vision, I could barely see Amaro attempting to hold back Swanson. They were both struggling hard against each other. | bb6b3a990c784c1bbd3b83f7de33430b | ['bd9b351a347445df89f32f11987a16c1'] | As I tried to move, I threw my head back down, holding it with both my hands. A loud ringing made me feel faint and unable to hear, and I felt the pain worsen by thousands in my abdomen. By instinct, I set a hand down on there, feeling a wet, warm, thick liquid instead of my expected silk shirt.
I struggled to see, vision in one eye regained but fading to the sun. Looking down at my shirt, I see red; blood everywhere.
I've been shot.
From the corner of my eye, the one able, Nick was running towards me, The suspect being held down by police officers in the area, and other were running towards the scene; some on phones.
"Call 911!"
The need to close my eyes was overwhelming. I was deciding whether to just let them shut, or fight to keep them open; I was between the two. My head constantly fighting to not limb to the side.
"Rafi, hey stay with me." I hadn't noticed Nick by my side so quick. He tried to hold my head up.
"Ugh." I groaned.
He set my head back down, which moved my abdomen. "argh!" I practically screamed in pain, then it was fading.
"Nick, I'm cold." I whined, my breath shortening.
"It's the weather, don't overreact," he said casually, putting pressure on my wound.
"Then why is it starting to feel numb this time," I almost couldn't finish the sentence without gasping for more air.
"That's not a good sign, just keep talking to me, come one." his voice rigid.
I could hear sirens in the distance, but everything around me was starting to fade. The screams and sirens became a background noise. The lights and sun slowly looking dim and my attention drawn away from the pain. Nick's voice stood out from the rest.
"Come on!" He yelled, applying more pressure to my abdomen.
Soon, I couldn't feel anything but cold hands carrying me off the floor, but I squeezed on Nick's shirt right before I didn't have the energy to hold on to anything anymore.
The brights lights of the ambulance inside were blinding. The medics asking questions, talking around me, but I was numb to everything.
Then, I couldn't, any longer, stay awake.
The last thing I saw before slipping into an all needing sleep was Nick, held back by Liv and Fin.
All at once, I gave into the darkness and fell unconscious.
2. Chapter 2
Nick Amaro POV
They held my arms back, but I didn't know exactly who. I pull and struggled to get out of their grip until I saw Rafi's face fade into unconsciousness as they slammed the door of the ambulance shut.
My fight to be released was gone. I had gave in, and they let go of their hold slowly.
I- I just watched him get shot and I should have been able to prevent it. I, of all people, should have stopped that damn suspect! It's because of me, he's on his way to the hospital.
My eyes were conveniently focused on the one spot on the floor where Rafael's blood stained the wet cement.
"Hey, you okay?" Olivia's voice was startling.
I couldn't speak. In the midst of turning to her, the corner of my eye caught a bright coloring on my hand. Looking down for what I saw, was my hand covered in blood; Rafael's blood.
He's in shock
He needs to be interrogated
Poor thing
What happened
Blood everywhere, he might not live
Everyone speaking all at once as if I couldn't hear their whispers. My blood was practically boiling inside. They don't know the truth, but in reality, neither do I. Rafael needs justice.
The crowd that formed in the chaos of this morning was trying to get around the other officers putting up tape, wanting to know what happened.
It was like something snapped in my head, because I jumped slightly, needing to push one foot back for balance.
Olivia followed me, trying to get my attention, as I pushed past each person to the police vehicle where Swanson sat in. I hit the window with the palm of my hand making him jump.
"Why, huh? Why him damn it!?" I screamed, hitting the window again until I was pulled away again by the cops.
Olivia fended them off. My blood boiled even more than before as she pushed me away from the vehicle.
"What the he'll is wrong with you." She was surprised yet angry.
The words wouldn't leave my mouth nor form in my head. I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. I don't know what had come over me, but it shouldn't matter.
"Nick," Olivia tapped my shoulder.
"What?" I snapped, turning around to see forensics with her. They held empty bags and a small box for collecting evidence. Everything and everyone around me was so hectic.
"Detective, we are going to need to take your shirt and jacket for evidence. Did your pants get blood on them too?" They asked bluntly.
I looked down at my clothing. I had noticed before the blood on my hand, but I hadn't noticed I wiped it down my white shirt.
"Detective?"
I looked back up to them.
"He'll just hand you his shirt and jacket, sorry." Olivia responded for me.
She moved me back, closer to the warmth of the building, as she tried to help me take off my jacket. I motioned her off and handed to the jacket to them. In return, they handed me a clean white button up to replace the blood-covered one I wore.
"Would you like go head inside to a bathroom to change." Liv asked.
I rolled my eyes at her constant coddling of me. |
ae3620477868489c918e5826ae438c79 | ['bda0ddcd05f4439aa0e5fc8e25c703d3'] | yoongi nods, and hoseok takes hold like if he lets go, he'll never see him again.
yoongi leans into his side, trying to get away from the massive crowd as much as possible. hoseok sees jimin up ahead, throwing back glances every once and a while and basically paving the two's path for them. taehyung is directing some of the security guards their way, and suddenly, suddenly, hoseok is grateful that jimin and taehyung were meant for yoongi. that they're taking care of him from a distance, because they couldn't reach him soon enough.
hoseok smiles at them, and taehyung returns it before turning back to move forward.
when they reach the terminal, jimin's eyes are ablaze. he's pulling down his mouth mask and crouching down in front of yoongi, who is shivering on one of the chairs.
"yoongi, yoongi, look at me," he says softly, despite the fire in his eyes and his clenched fists.
slowly, yoongi looks up. hoseok gently strokes his hair.
"you're okay, baby," jimin says, "you're okay. see? it's all okay, and i - i wouldn't let anything happen to you."
yoongi nods, his lower lip trembling, and jimin reaches up and kisses his forehead gently. hoseok knows that if anyone with cameras is nearby, it would get spread everywhere. he thinks namjoon must think this too, because he's glancing around nervously. jimin and yoongi - they weren't together, but rumors spread fast, and hoseok worries for his best friend.
"i'm sorry," yoongi tells them, "i just..."
"no, stop." taehyung is shaking his head. "there's no reason for you to say sorry. we're all here for you. you can't inconvenience us."
yoongi nods slowly.
"it's going to be okay, hyung," namjoon says softly. "we've got your back. next flight, we'll take a private jet."
their airplane is called, and then they're going home. hoseok feels himself relax. they're finally getting their break.
the first couple of days are spent lounging around the dorm. hoseok sleeps for longer than he wants to admit, probably way longer than necessary, but it's well deserved. and he can admit that too - he knows very well that he's earned every second of sleep he gets.
"you wanna go out, seok hyung?" namjoon asks hoseok.
it's kind of late, the sky is dark now and hoseok knows they should probably wait until the morning, but he's also been doing nothing all day, and he craves to go out of the dorm.
"sure, we can go to the river."
they ride their bikes there. it's a quiet evening, but warm, and hoseok feels more relaxed than he has in ages.
they stop near a bench and sit down, gazing at the dark river and listening to the sounds of cars driving by.
"i feel like we haven't been able to talk in forever," namjoon says. "i really miss hanging out with you, hyung."
hoseok hums. "i agree. we should do this more often."
they settle into a steady conversation, and hoseok is relaxed he's happy. they stay out for another hour before namjoon suggests they head back.
"hey," hoseok stops on his bike outside a convenient store. "you keep going, i'm gonna get some snacks. maybe we can watch a movie tonight."
"i can help?" namjoon asks.
"no, it's fine. i want it to be a surprise, anyway. c'mon joon, let me do something nice for you."
namjoon hesitates.
"it's only a few minutes away from the dorm - if i'm not back in thirty minutes you can come looking for me," hoseok suggests with a light laugh.
"fine...but thirty minutes. and then i'm coming back for you. be careful, hyung."
"it's going to be fine, joon. see you in a bit!"
namjoon waves and then takes off. hoseok turns to the convenient store, heading in for the snacks he promised. he grabs a few, thinking about each one namjoon might like (and one or two for the others, he knows they'll be jealous and the thought makes him want to laugh. he's so happy. it feels like he's on top of the world). the cashier shakes his head, amused, as he rings him up.
"planning on a fun night, eh?" the cashier asks.
"yeah, my friends and i are gonna binge movies all night," he answers happily, paying with his card before gathering the bags in his arms and heading outside to where his bike is at.
two girls stand by it, marveling at it and talking in excited voices.
"excuse me," he calls, "but that's mine."
"j-hope?" one of the girls squeal. "may we get a picture? please?"
she's bouncing on her feet, her other friend nodding rapidly along with her.
he hesitates, then decides that it will be okay. just this once. he's in a good mood, too.
"sure, just one though."
he sets down his bags and they pull out their phones. they cast each other a glance, but he thinks nothing of it, leaning over for the picture. one of the girls lays her hand against his back and he stiffens - but no. they'll be done in a second and he's not going to ruin their night. they keep adjusting the phone though, it's taking longer than necessary, and then the hand is traveling lower and he's trying to back up and suddenly he's tugged into the alley and pushed onto the ground.
"what - "
he's disoriented for a second, before he's trying to scramble up. the girls advance quickly, pushing him down further and pulling at his clothes and hoseok is struggling struggling struggling and the panic - he cries out in terror and tries to get up, but suddenly one of them is sitting on his chest.
"oppa, we'll treat you good," she whispers.
hoseok sobs, and pushes, and pushes, and then his arms are held down and he's pushing more and there are tears and can't they tell by his sobs he doesn't want this? | f5fadf611fc34d579f41edd447835fbb | ['bda0ddcd05f4439aa0e5fc8e25c703d3'] | they stopped on the sidewalk and taehyung is admiring the flowers as jimin shows them off. he's never felt this before, someone understanding what he's talking about and being able to relate back to it. with taehyung, this complete stranger, he feels almost as complete as he does with seokjin. it scares him as much as it excites him. he almost forgets why he's distanced himself from other witches for so long.
"these ones are strelitzias," he explains. "and these are chrysanthemums. i've had them ever since i was born and they've continued to grow as i do."
taehyung smiles, big, bright, and boxy. "makes me jealous i've only got a sun. you and yoongi-hyung would bond well over your extensive marks." then he laughs. "my other hyung has bees behind his ears and they buzz when he's really happy. he couldn't hide it when he had a crush on me." jimin smiles softly. "cute."
and this is jimin's first, willing encounter with another witch.
2. Chapter 2
"hyung," jimin says quietly, the feeling of seokjin's fingers in his hair almost putting him to sleep. "hyung, i met another witch."
the older hums, his motions only pausing for a moment. they're both on laying on the couch, tired from a long day. both were ready to fall asleep any time.
"he was really kind hyung, and asked me to hang out. and i really liked it. i liked him. and i think i'm going to hang out with him again."
seokjin smiles softly. "good, jimin-ah. that's really good. maybe you'll let me meet him?"
there's a small silence and jimin shifts in the older's arms. "of course, hyung. he - his name is taehyung, and i think you two would get along really well." there's another small pause, before he continues. "it was weird, but i just felt so connected to him. i've always felt wary and distant whenever i've met or seen another witch, but not with taehyung. he takes after the sun, hyungie. he was so warm and welcoming and i'm scared it's all a lie."
seokjin kisses the top of jimin's hair. "maybe we should sleep first," he suggests. "but i think this one's genuine. i think taehyung's a good one."
the next time jimin's back in town, he's meeting taehyung. they'd agreed to meet up at a small, local restaurant - coincidentally the same one that seokjin worked as a second job. jimin had chosen it with the idea that seokjin could see taehyung and determine whether or not he seemed like a good person. jimin felt that he was good. but he's been wrong before - and he's terrified to make the same mistake twice.
jimin arrives shortly after taehyung does, smiling widely and going in for a handshake.
"jiminie!" taehyung exclaims, and pulls him into a hug.
"o-oh."
it's surprising, but not unwelcome, and jimin feels warmth burst through his skin at the point where taehyung's sun presses against his skin. jimin feels a soft smile light up on his face as he hugs back.
"how have you been?" taehyung asked sweetly as they head to a table.
"really good," jimin answers, and catches seokjin's eye, who's smiling at the two. "i...i've relaxed quite a bit this weekend. how are you?"
taehyung smiles wide, a small laugh escaping his lips. "i've been the best, chim. the best! the hyungs, jungkookie and i all went on a trip and it was amazing! and i told them about you - they want to meet you! if - if you're okay with that of course," he adds a little hesitantly.
"i think i'll be okay, i can do that," jimin reassures him. "as long as i can introduce you to my friend!"
"of course," says taehyung, "the more the merrier."
the day goes well. they talk, and talk, and at some point seokjin takes their order and ruffles jimin's hair - which launches into a new discussion about how seokjin works there. they stay long enough for their hyung to be able to take a break and sit down with them.
"i don't mean to intrude," he tells them with a small laugh.
"no!" both jimin and taehyung exclaim, then grin at each other.
"you're fine, hyung, really," jimin says, and presses his thumb to seokjin's cheek. the other smiles warmly.
"can i call you hyung?" taehyung asks pleadingly, and seokjin laughs and tells him of course.
the conversation carries on. eventually seokjin has to leave and taehyung hugs jimin goodbye.
"it was really great meeting with you, chim," taehyung says gently.
"yeah, you too. we should meet up again sometime soon!"
"of course!" taehyung's eyes light up. "and you can meet my hyungs and jungkookie and they can meet seokjin! it'll be great, jiminie. we're having a movie night this saturday," he offers, "and you guys can come."
"really? i don't want to barge into anything-"
"no, really. come to it. everyone wants to meet you!"
jimin smiles sheepishly. "i-i'll ask seokjin. but i'm free. so i'll do my best to make it."
he recieves a hug in turn for his words, and then taehyung scribbling down the address on a napkin.
"here it is, don't be late!" he blows the older a kiss, and then he's out the door.
jimin smiles after him longer then necessary.
and his skin is still warm from the sun.
3. Chapter 3
jimin is crying, only, he doesn't remember why. |
a412725888bd4a0ba78af63cc1a9168f | ['bda204dcc3414bb499d76df71b8318f6'] | Their ridiculously inconsistent backstory is made up of parts of Ruzek's relationship with Wendy. It's partly memories of their own.
And part of it. Maybe all of it is probably what a perfect picture of a relationship would be for her.
_She tries to tell herself it's not because it's him. This isn't even real._
But she's pretty good at undercover. She's pretty good at pretending.
It only takes a week but Maria is a bored wife in denial of what her husband does. She's worse than the nosy neighbors Kim had as a kid. She calls up, she knocks, she asks way too many questions.
The back story for Kim and Adam Creedon is that they meet at a bakery when they were both there buying cakes for their bosses.
_It's been a week since Olinsky's birthday and they still can't get over themselves._
Their first date, Transformers.
_She kicks him from under the restaurant table when he opens his ridiculous mouth._
First kiss at the bar they always frequent, Molly's
_Her eyes widen and he grins._
_It's like he's making plans._
Their wedding, a large destination wedding in Australia.
_He hates beaches._
_Australia was her favorite place to see when she worked for the airline._
She's good at undercover. She picks up on the transport pattern first. She figures out the times, the places. Olinsky's tailing them.
And then she stumbles on to a goldmine. They're starting to get bored. Voight wants them in the apartment as much as possible. He wants to rent a movie.
She shoots him a look as he says _Transformers 3._
She flings the remote at his head . "My name's not Wendy."
_It's like an accusation._
When the remote hits the floor it makes a strange, hollow sound. He knocks on the floorboard and pries them open.
Their whole living room was lined with cocaine and heroin.
It's instantaneous. He calls Voight. And then he's laughing, hysterical laughter. Pure happiness.
He picks her up by her waist and hugs her tight.
"We make a good couple, Burgess."
_She really wishes he hadn't said that._
**04**
They've worked together plenty of times since the Abruzzi case. It's never a dull moment. They work good together. She likes working with him.
She liked working with him until it wasn't just working with him that she liked. Until their nights at the bar got later and later, until Olinsky had to remind him that he was engaged.
She's a better cop now. She's caught a rapist, found three missing children, been instrumental in drug busts, gang arrests, murder cases. And most of her good days, the cases she remembers, they're with him.
When you spend enough time working with someone, spending most of your time with them, you pick up on things. She knows the way his voice gets deeper when he thinks he's in trouble, the way he runs his hand through his hair when he's embarrassed and the way he bites his lip when he's stressed out.
She knows how is his first thought is everyone around him and not just when he's on the job. She notices things when they're partnered.
Things like how his immediate reaction is to throw himself in front of her at the most miniscule indication of danger, but how he's the first one to talk her up to anyone else in intelligence. No matter how hard or easy their day goes , he always squeezes her shoulder and asks if she's okay when it's over. He always slides in some time of semi-flirtatious joke at all the wrong moments.
They talk about things. They become friends. They work good together but it's not just that. She gets it. He was pulled up straight from the academy, things happened completely differently for him. Sometimes she doesn't think he gives himself enough credit for how smart he is. And she's still a uniform. He might be the only person who acts like she's worth more than that.
She knows his moods. She knows his good days, the days when his eyes crinkle in the corners and he grins. The days when they celebrate, when they go out for drinks, when they joke and talk and laugh. She knows the bad ones, when his eyes are dark and he bites his lip. The days she wants him to talk to her and he doesn't. Until he starts. On his bad days, a bad shift, they go to a crowded bar where no one knows them. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in silence, just together.
She doesn't want to make it more than it is. She's been pushing away the thought for months. But he's engaged. Until he's not anymore.
\---
He's been single for a few months when he comes and gives her the good news.
She's been avoiding him as much as she can for a few weeks before he tells her.
They're in Molly's, at opposite ends. They're at different tables, with different people, talking about different things. Because of some reason she doesn't know how act around him now. Part of her thinks it might've been easier when he was with Wendy atleast then she knew what to do.
But tonight, she spots him walking toward her with his grin wide, two beers in hand, a bounce in his step. His sets the beers down in front of her and grabs her arm.
"There's your celebratory beer but I'm not supposed to be telling you what we're celebrating." He whispers in her ear and pulls her to the back of the bar.
She breathes in sharp, her eyes are wide. "What's going on..." She's skeptical.
He hasn't stopped smiling. His face actually looks like it's stuck in the happiest grin she's ever seen on a human. He puts both his hands on her shoulders and leans toward her. | e511460913b64a898c53e21c8caab250 | ['bda204dcc3414bb499d76df71b8318f6'] | _But not like this. Was this his penance, is that what he was doing? Begging for forgiveness with a cock in his mouth?_
Sammy’s breathing gets louder as Ben takes him in deeper, moving up and down at a steady pace. His hand twisting at the base.
Sammy moves his hands from his sides and threads one into Ben’s hair, the other gripping the base of his neck.
This makes Ben pick up the pace even more. It’s noisy, the sound of his wet mouth on Sammy’s wet dick and the slick sound makes Sammy let out a low, strangled moan.
Ben’s thought about it before. And every time it was rough, angry, quick and raw. Even before the videotape, that’s how he imagined it. _(over and over and over)_
But this is not that.
There’s something soft about the way Sammy grips his neck as he comes with a soft moan. There’s something almost tender and graceful about the way he hand stays there even after Ben takes his mouth away.
Sammy breaks the silence with a small laugh. “Never took you for such a…people-pleaser.”
Ben laughs too,he’s still on the floor, Sammy’s pants are still around his ankles. Sammy reaches out and pulls him up. Ben leans down over him and kisses him, hard. Sammy kisses back, pulling him closer.
Again, he’s the one to break apart. He grabs Ben’s arm and pulls him next to him.
It’s silent again. But Ben was always the silent type.
But he needs to talk. Maybe it’s not for Sammy, but for his own good. But he needs to say it.
“I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Especially you, never…Never you.”
Sammy laughs, there’s always been a sadness to his laugh. “Somebody always does. Nobody really plans for it.”
Ben looks at the floor. There’s a consistent guilt, even now , even after this. He probably deserves that.
“Don’t lie. That’s all I ask.” Sammy’s voice breaks.
“Ok.”
Ben was always the silent type. He grabs Sammy’s hand.
Later that night, Sammy helps him up to bed.
“You don’t have to leave” he whispers. Sammy pauses.
“But you don’t have to stay.” he continues.
“I know I don’t have to.” Sammy lays down next to him.
They don't touch at first. Ben just lays there, breathing. Their backs are pressed firmly together.
He turns slowly, his stomach aching from the pressure. He wraps his arms tight around Sammy's waist.
_He doesn't say a word._ |
aff4ec0a0a0a458b9cce274b2591dff5 | ['bda51af6bd7f4c5ab7b482fa9c011b4d'] | “Are you going to kill me?” You ask, finally finding your bravery. “Me, your own kin? You saw me grow, my lord, and now you are accusing me of turning myself against you?” You push the blade aside carefully. “I would never do that and you know it.”
“Then why did you left in the first place?” He pushes you to the wall behind you. You curse under your breath when the cold stone hits some of your fresh bruises on your back.
“Tell me the name and I will set you free.” He promises, his face barely one inch from yours.
“No, you will not.” You dare to look directly into his eyes and you can see there that you are not wrong in your suspicion. He is not letting you go, no matter what you are going or not going to tell. “I know you far too well. You are not letting me go this time and I am not going to tell you more than I have told you already!” You raise your voice and this time it is purposely.
“There are many ways to loosen your tongue, [name].” He grins.
Before you can even start to think what he means by that he sheathes the knife and grabs both of your wrists, turning them painfully behind your back. He refuses to go of them and presses himself to you, hissing silently under his breath.
You watch him carefully but from your position you are not able to see his full expression. He is perhaps grinning, perhaps smirking, perhaps his anger had finally found its way up through his guarded emotions, you cannot tell. All you can tell is the warmth emanating from his muscular body. He is the warrior of the sword, the best warrior in the whole _Arda_ and you now have the privilege to feel the marble-hard muscles closing around you. Many _ellith_ would give their everything to be in your current position. Yet you are not enjoying his closeness that much. Your arms are painfully strained behind your back and his closeness does not allow you to take a deep breath.
“Let me go!” You shout at him.
“Not before you tell me the name.” He snaps back at you. “Who paid you for spying on me? What do they want?”
“I am not working for anyone!” You try to reason him.
“The name!” He grunts.
“Please, my lord. You are hurting me.” You whimper when the straining in your arms is too much to bear. Suddenly the pressure is gone and you are falling on the wall, your arms free. The relief makes you sob unwillingly and the Elvenking takes it as the sign he had broken you already.
“The name.” He repeats, pushing the stream of your hair behind your ear. You shudder when he strokes the pointy tip of your ear. “Ah.” He hums knowingly and strokes your ear again. “It seems you have some weak spot after all.”
“No, it is just the coldness in the air, my lord.” You reply, controlling your tone as much as possible.
“The coldness, you say?” He asks slyly.
“Yes, the one that keep seeping from your dead heart.” You snap bravely. You are awaiting that he will let go of you or perhaps backhand you but he seems amused instead.
“Is this everything you have, empty insults and lies?” He presses you to the cold stone again and brushes his lips around your earlobe. “I want to see what truly is inside you.” He whispers into your hair and you sob again. Your defences are growing thin and there is nothing you can do about it. His deep voice is enough to make your underwear wet.
You try to push him back but you would move the Misty Mountains sooner than this mountain of an elf in front of you. He laughs at your useless efforts and kisses your neck instead. The sound you make is far from being a frustrated whimper; it sounds more like a pleasured moan.
“There, there…” He whispers into your skin again whilst his hands travel down your sides to your hips. “Everyone has a weak spot. Are you ashamed I have found yours?” He asks in the same whispering tone that makes your skin tickle. Before you have the chance to answer his lips are on yours, capturing you in a lingering kiss. His lips are warm and soft; so different from how you expected them to be. His body is emanating heat that seeps into your veins and rushes to your body, pooling under your stomach. You close your eyes and sigh into his lips.
“Have I left you breathless?” He teases you, stroking your sides with deliberate slow strokes. “Or is it your unwillingness to tell me the truth?” He pushes you further.
“No, my lord. I have nothing more to tell you because what I have told earlier was the truth. My company…”
He does not let you to finish your sentence again. This time, his kiss is more demanding but gentle somehow. You fight the urge to melt into his embrace; to return his affections. Your brain shouts at you that he is playing with you. His intentions are to pry the confession from your lips and he is willing to use everything he has on you.
When his hand cups your sex through your thin leggings you cry out, breaking the kiss for good. He can feel your arousal now, there is no denying. A victorious smirk spreads through his face like a tsunami, washing away the indifferent expression he was holding for so long.
“Ah, I see…” He murmurs, starting to stroke you through the fabric. You whimper again, seeking for support in his muscular frame. “Is this the reason why you left so many years ago? Because you were lusting after your king?” He increases the pressure on your sensitive parts.
“No!” You yelp. | 54783a2f8365480a87f31690b3f6c01b | ['bda51af6bd7f4c5ab7b482fa9c011b4d'] |
Sharing
"Hold her hair tightly!" Joe demands, licking his lips seductively. You raise your head up to him, watching his tongue thoroughly. One second later a blue alien hand is entwined in your hair, tugging at your ponytail. You wince but the grip is not ceasing. You struggle in your bonds and Joe chuckles.
"Shall I make her open that pretty mouth?" Ronan asks in his low voice. You shudder and Goosebumps appear on your skin. His voice is pure liquid sex, nothing less.
"No. She knows her place and she will obey your every demand. Will you, baby?"
You nod slowly and open your mouth slightly ajar, a soft moan leaving your moist lips.
"Good girl." Joe nods approvingly.
Ronan tugs at your hair again, forcing you to turn your head to him. His thick blue member is already hard and waiting impatiently for your care. You lick your lips when you see purplish head leaking with pre-cum.
"Slowly." Joe orders and Ronan grins. "Let her enjoy every second of it."
Ronan presses his head to your mouth and you willingly wrap your lips around it. Alien warlord grins further. "So warm." He grunts and pushes his member further.
He is indeed thick and he stretches your lips so the corners of your mouth can tear from that intrusion but you smile up at him, enjoying the unusual taste of the Kree warrior. You do not enjoy your bound hands that much but you do your best even without them. Slowly he pushes further inside your mouth and you instinctively relax your throat. Though you are well trained in this art, Ronan is far thicker than your usual partner Joe MacMillan and you will gag around him certainly.
Speaking of Joe, he sits in his comfortable chair, watching you intently whilst stroking his own girth under the covering of his pants. He knows how much you like to watch him pleasuring himself and he is not willing to allow you such satisfaction, at least not yet. He licks his lips occasionally and when he catches your gaze on him, his muscles contract.
“Eyes on me!” Ronan orders and you immediately raise your eyes to meet his violet ones. He is filling your mouth now and his pumping hits the back of your throat. You circle your tongue around him as much as you can and he grunts, his hand pulling at your hair tighter. You take that as his approval and repeat the motion, tasting his pre-cum again. You can feel the urgent wave reverberating through that deliciously giant member on your tongue and you think if a Kree peak is similar to the human´s one. The taste is definitely different.
Ronan withdraws himself from your mouth so only his head is past your lips and you carefully graze your teeth along the corona, tugging at his foreskin.
“Yes, baby.” Joe licks his lips again. “Show him how well trained you are.”
Yum hum contently and the giant head inside your mouth shudders. Even more pre-cum leaks onto your tongue and you trace the tip of it through his slit. It is considerably wider than any human could be and if you were allowed to, you would push your finger past it. But your hands are bound on your sides and all you can do with them is to squeeze your own buttocks. You occasionally do when you are sure Joe is watching.
Ronan does not let you to bring him to his peak; instead he draws you to your feet and kisses you deeply. Joe, seeing this, lets go of his member and stands up as well. “Enough for now?”
Blue alien smirks and pushes you to the bed, slapping your backside doing so. “She deserves some reward.” He thunders with that incredibly low voice. “What do you think?”
Joe smirks as well. “I think so. She has been such a good girl.” He strokes your hair approvingly. “Do you wish to be rewarded, baby?”
You smile sweetly on him. “Yes, sir.” It is a play. You are not submissive and Joe is not your dominant but you enjoy roleplaying and now, having the Kree here, you finally can try something new.
“Good girl.” He strokes you again. “Lay yourself on bed on your back and show us your beautiful moist flower.”
You do as he demands, stretching your legs widely. Your core is soaked but you cannot touch yourself to make a view for them because Joe has not freed your restrains yet. Smell of your arousal fills the room.
Joe finally shreds his jeans and stands naked in front of you. You cannot but lick your lips, recalling his sweet taste on your tongue and even sweeter torture of his mouth on your core. You moan silently when he indeed climbs on you in the 69-position. You clutch your buttocks again, spreading your nether lips wider and Joe rewards you with the first of his delicate licks. Only after few of them he lowers his hips to you so you can finally take his shaft hungrily into your mouth. His low moan reverberates through your sensitive pearl.
Ronan kneels in front of you and spreads you even wider. Slowly, he pushes not one but two of his fingers into you and you moan loudly, taking Joe´s shaft deeper involuntarily so you gag. Struggling with air you are being stimulated by both Joe´s tongue and Ronan´s fingers and your head spins. |
90a03e7752d6462c9e271018d81bce0d | ['bda8213e176841e481cb8d5eeee3c564'] | And yes, it hurts, _a lot_ , being spoken about like that – as if she would ever deliberately go out to hurt another person, Mirakuru or not - her heart’s thumping in her chest, her throat dry and suddenly the slight breeze on her legs makes her remember how ‘almost naked’ she is and it doesn’t help because she knows she looks pathetic. Weak. Overcome. She understands that to an outsider she might actually look like she’s just run out of a Psych Ward but she’s standing in front of Oliver, looking _this_ distressed and hopeless, this uncovered, this abnormal… the t-shirt barely reaches mid-thigh and without underwear she feels… inappropriate.
Yet the look Oliver throws Sara…
As if she’s just uttered words offensive to all mankind, Oliver’s brow turns from unmarred to harsh in a second and the peaceful assurance he’d been offering until moments ago disappears along with it.
And then he whispers, “Sara,” and it’s _almost_ a lovers word; except Felicity knows what Oliver’s voice sounds like when it whispers in the ear words of understanding and affection…and she knows exactly what it sounds like when he’s making threats over the coms system late at night.
This? It’s a threat. _I caused this…_
Felicity’s eyes are all over the pair, hoping hopelessly that she hasn’t wrecked permanent damage between them but way Sara’s looking at him makes Felicity think that not only is she spot on, it’s an unprecedented move in their relationship. Oliver intimating a threat. To Sara.
“Ollie.” The beautiful fighter starts to shake her head. “You told me that she’s-”
“I don’t care.” It’s so quiet and deadly it makes Thea stare at him. “You only heard what you _wanted_ to hear.” His voice low, he finally drops the hand keeping Sara where she is. Exhaustion reeks from him then, but there’s also this… strength. As if he’s become unmoveable. “We’ve done this before,” his eyes flicker hesitantly to Thea, Felicity – because no one notices that her breathing has escalated or that her heart is still racing - taking the chance to slowly place her hands behind her on the support, “with Roy.” Thea blinks at that and you can practically see the cogs turning. “You made a hasty decision then, one you would have bitterly regretted-”
“I still don’t regret that decision.” Sara interrupts and Oliver just looks at her. And there’s the real lover’s word imprinted on his face.
Disappointment.
“Wait…” Its Thea’s turn as her eyes flicker form her brother to his girlfriend. “That was you, wasn’t it? The Canary? You pointed a gun at Roy earlier. And then you,” her eyes hit her brother’s, “you stopped her.” Disbelief makes her take a step back from the woman who helped her off the floor. Again, Sara looks like she’s been smacked in the face. “You were going to kill him. _Kill_ Roy.”
“It was-”
“No! Is Felicity the same as Roy? Is that why you-”
“Thea, please-”
“If she is then we should be helping her; not trying to kill her!” And if Felicity wasn’t already feeling affectionate for the sibling then would be now, except a boatload of guilt is heaped with it. _It may have been an accident but… what about next time? Am I dangerous? Like Roy was?_
Thea looks to her brother. “She saved us.” As if it’s the answer to everything.
“I know.” He replies, as if he agrees.
But he’s already looking at her again, at her hands, which are poised and primed behind her. To do what, she doesn’t know. “Hey.” He murmurs. “Come here.” And his hand lifts, beckons, his eyes are asking – damn near begging – her to come away from the bannister. “Felicity.”
It doesn’t matter than her heartbeat feels like it might ricochet off her ribcage, she feels like maybe, just maybe, she can move her hand and it twitches behind her, shifts. He sees it if his slight smile is anything to go by.
But then Thea suddenly speaks. “Wait; aren’t you friends?” She’s pointing between Sara and Felicity.
Feeling cornered again she tries to breathe normally, managing to force out a word. “Yes.”
Sara doesn’t respond. Doesn’t give Felicity a _thing_.
Breathe in, breathe out _… right. This is so not my night._
Oliver takes a step closer-
Suddenly, for no reason she can fathom – her body is driving stick – she braces herself fully on the bannister and leaps off towards the ground floor, very aware again that she’s wearing no underwear and thankful that she didn’t flash anyone on the way down. Including Oliver. She lands in a crouch and stays there for exactly 3 seconds; it feels like an eternity and too much happens at once.
“Oh my god.”
_Thea._
“Wait, Ollie! You’re knee.”
_Sara._
Feet pounding against the polished flooring makes her head shoot up in surprise as John skirts round the corner, pistol out, raised and pointed at her face.
“Whoa!” He shouts, shocked, his gun immediately coming down. “I thought…”
He thought there’d been a fight. Or an issue. Hearing a body hit the floor would do that to you. Unfortunately it’s also what sends a further surge of panic through Felicity Smoak. So as he steps forwards to – his eyes bright with relief at seeing her – she shoots up from her crouch, startling him.
“Felicity-”
“ _Wait_.”
It’s Oliver.
He’s coming down the stairs, a hand raised out to Diggle. “Don’t.”
And she’s sprinting before another word is spoken. It’s the third time in the past 12 hours that she’s towards or away from him.
They’re exchanging shouts behind her but she can’t focus on it, not on anything except the bizarre yet increasingly destructive impulse to be outside and away from people. | b1fe2a28414a4586800ceb7779fd8def | ['bda8213e176841e481cb8d5eeee3c564'] | _Why is she here then?_ Maybe… because of Sara? He spent no illusions on the idea that she’d come due to any reprising feelings from a romance gone and long forgotten. Since returning to Starling he’d learned much in the way of what he wanted as opposed to what he truly _needed_ …
Unfortunately, surprisingly, ironically, sorely… Laurel featured in neither category.
It was a painful truth - he’d spent so many months after his return pining after the idea of them together that it took the cost of Tommy’s life to show him that sometimes what you think is best for you, can turn out to be the exact opposite.
Case in point: they’d slept together… then he’d had to leave her in bed, lying to her once more because – and he could finally admit it – he’d never had any intention of telling her his secret.
And then she’d ignored his advice to stay out of the Glades; something he knew still plagued her sleep. It left a bitter, _what was it all for_ , taste in the mouth.
But really, what _had_ it all been for? One night with Laurel? When neither were anywhere near close to being ‘together’ in more than just a physical sense. Had it been worth the sacrifice?
…Looking back on it, the answer was hard to deliver because he knew that it was ‘no’.
Undoubtedly, it had been the first time he’d ever truly made love to Laurel. And how insulting was that? Could you measure it in an ‘Asshole’ metre? It still made him wince; in all their time together before the island he’d never truly been _with_ her. And then _after_ that half night… he hadn’t considered the consequences, hadn’t experienced enough to know himself quite that well.
Going back to Lian Yu had forced him, in dreams, to confront the royally skewed nature of those few hours. After he’d woken, _nothing_ had changed. Only months later could he see the problem in that and realised that he’d actually expected, secretly - at the time, to wake and feel _different_. To feel altered, to _be_ … _more_. Stronger. Lighter. A better man, a better person.
Complete.
But that hadn’t happened. Instead he’d woken to feeling exactly as he’d done the day before. Being together didn’t fix their past.
They had no more history left to spoil.
Yet however much he tried to tell that to the sensitive spot on his spine, the area that always tightened - close to genuinely painful - whenever someone he cared about was in danger, it ignored him making his stomach to writhe at the possibility of someone else being in danger because of him.
**_Was_ ** _Laurel in danger? Is that why Slade told her? To push her back into my orbit…_
_To tell me that he’d chosen a target?_
The amount of times Slade had caught Oliver staring at Laurel’s picture in those first few months, it made a regretful sort of sense.
It was a stunning reality: five years of living through nightmares, tyrants, pain, murder, death, suffering, loneliness’, self-loathing, the island, China, Russia, Coast City… he’d carried her with him. One year back in Starling and he’d let her go. He loved her, but he’d let her go. There were no good feelings in it for him to celebrate; it had been necessary on both sides. The art of loving and being loved… it could extinguish as well as build.
Had he ever really loved her as he should have? Had she ever loved him back the way he’d wanted her to?
The picture of her that he’d originally carried in his wallet had been found on the floor of the foundry after the fall of the Glades. Passing a homeless man’s fire-bin that same evening he’d dropped it in, watching the burning embers eat away at her image before walking away.
Now? There were times were he thought that simple friendship might too difficult a hurdle to grasp. And there were moments where Laurel resembled broken glass: fractured and hostile to the touch. She’d been through much; _he’d_ put her through much… but no matter what happened he would always care for her, would always be there for her.
…Which she must have known, given her reaction to seeing him pass the lounge.
She’d hugged him. Just bypassed everything else and thrown herself in his arms. He knew what it was like to hug Laurel but something felt different.
And one of his arms had been occupied at the time…
_Their slow pace down the corridor towards the stairs could have gone faster… could have, but hadn’t. And it wasn’t because he was tired, not this time. It was the silence he enjoyed, the type that came with mutual understanding. The three of them, the ones who started everything… they knew each other well enough, deeply enough, to not have to utter a word. It was comfortable. Familiar. Relaxing._
_Then he’d caught sight of Laurel ahead of them._
_She’d stepped out into the hall; her dark suit jacket undone – the only sign of her current ruffled state – her hair down and tousled from the wind, her chest almost heaving, as if emotional…_
Something must have happened. _His brow furrowed. Who had Slade hurt now?_
_But then she shouted out to him._
_“Ollie!”_
_Her eyes bright and, emotional, she was looking at him like… like the world had turned on its head and he was the only thing that fell into place. Like he made sense, which was probably the most confusing thing about seeing her right then._
_For all his weaknesses, a poor memory was never one of them. And Oliver had never seen Laurel look at him like that before._
_From his point of view it was like looking into the eyes of a friend and seeing a stranger._ |
503610ef19c84005b422bb6ab3d32803 | ['bdbfa3d910a74f3299cc498fa386c34e'] | For a moment, she listened, then finally heard his current shrill-voiced tormentor “SPEEDY-SPEED IS SO TICKLY-ICKLY-ICKLY-ISH! HE’S GONNA GET TICKLE-ICKLE-ICKLED! NOT LONG BEFORE MORE BRUSH-BRUSHY-BRUSH AND SHINY-WHIRLY-SCRUBBY TINGLES!” drawing back with a yelp of her own.
“GOODNESS!” she exclaimed, “No wonder you’re a wreck! ANYone would be, with that…”
“With what? What’d they do to him now?” Oiler queried, sitting up and catching her eye. Quickly adding and emphasizing with gestures “Except without the…y’know…”
“Well, if you don’t want to connect that way, I suppose you’d have to…” she looked up with a light bob of her head, then lowered her gaze, finishing “…basically bite the back of his head.”
“That’s worse! Ghh…stupid…” Snake snipped, though he moved closer behind Racer, “All right, let’s see this…” and darted in, doing so, his teeth making contact with the skull through the skin and hair. And was promptly privy to Townsend’s customized track as well.
“JUST ONE MORE, TWO MORE DAYS, ‘TIL YOUR NEXT GIGGLY WIGGLY SCRUBBY-DUBBY BUBBLY BATH-YOU-TIME! SCRUBBY-SCRUB TICKLE YOU ‘TIL YOUR SKIN AND STILTS SPARKLE-SHINE!”
The wavy-haired boy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, as he flung himself back with the force of an invisible mine explosion, shouting “WHOA! What the freakin’ FER-DE-LANCE was THAT?!” Pausing to collect himself, now snorting with a headshake “BOY, there’d be a whole lotta BLOOD down there if anybody tried stickin’ that ninny nonsense in MY head!”
Naturally, in another rather cartoonish moment, Speed chuckled, adding “Oh, I don’t think that’s very true, Snake.”
“HEY! Sure it is!”
“Uh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Nah.”
“You little –!” Oiler began, stopped by a stern gaze from Guthrie.
“Snake, come on. He’s just starting to feel better. Let him have it for now.”
With a snort, the rival resumed his usual moody hunch, arms across his chest – however, with a sigh, he muttered “Eh, blood, tears, mine, theirs, what’s the difference?”
“NNGH!” Racer growled, flopping to the floor again, clutching his forehead now, rolling on his side in a tight fetal curl, cringing. Like a migraine or insufferable itch from insect bites, he seemed to have grown accustomed to it – save for short bursts when it still flared past his threshold. “MAKE IT STOP! TURN IT OFF! I CAN’T TURN IT OFF!” Still cringing, he reached a trembling arm up, fingers sliding to the back of his head where he’d felt the narrow prick of whatever the intern had used to press the push-button to sync the sadistic shrieking voice to him. Naturally, even his pinkie fingers were too large to fit.
Seeing this, the female driver’s eyes darted, and she glanced at her finger before quickly taking a couple bites of her nail. Sinking down to hand and knees, she lightly grasped the chestnut-haired one’s head by the chin, aligned the narrowed point of her nail, bid “This might hurt, I’m so sorry!” and proceeded to press the tiny hidden button down, holding it for a second or two. She heard him grunt, and spied a bead of blood on her fingernail.
However, moments later, Speed uttered an “Ohhh…it’s quiet…it’s GONE! That horrible voice is GONE! FINALLY!” and winced though grinned, tears beading and trickling down his cheeks. “THANK YOU, Janet. You’re the BEST!”
Then, however, another voice rose in its place, uttering “Janet? …Speed, is that you?”
Jolting to a sit, eyes bulged wide, clutching his temple, Racer cried “TRIXIE?! Is that YOU? Ohh!”
“SPEED, it IS you! Where ARE you?!” the brunette asked.
“Where I TOLD everybody I was! Still trapped with Snake, Janet, and John by Mr. Dave at the kids’ pizzeria in the plaza!” he replied.
Meanwhile, the pilot maxed the volume on her radio, clutching her mic as she explained “Oh, Speed! The police drove over there for three days – but every time it was empty. The story they got is it was cleared out for repairs and renovations – but I haven’t found anything like that. Even though they said it was dark and empty, I’m coming to check it out for myself RIGHT now!”
“Empty?! But we’ve been doing shows for the past few days, it certainly hasn’t been empty!” Speed said; then twitched. “Wait, YOU’RE coming HERE?!”
On cue, naturally, he heard the small boy’s voice, with the chimp’s in the background. “HI, Speed! Chim-Chim and I’re here too, and we’re ALL coming to get you and bring you home so NOBODY can EVER take you away AGAIN!”
“SPRITLE! You too? And Chim-Chim? And…I – …ohhh…” Closing his eyes with a tired genuine chuckle, he added “Well, that sure sounds nice…” Opening them, he blinked, and suddenly realized that the other three had huddled around him as if he were an actual radio, Guthrie and Surtees pressing their cheekbones to his, and his rival pressing his into the same skullbone he’d sunk his teeth into previously. He only both chuckled and sighed again, noting “Well, we’re all waiting for you. We’d love to get out of here as soon as possible!”
“Understatement ‘a the CENTURY!” Snake noted, giving him a ticklish back poke that made him shiver with a grinning flinch.
“Yah! …mm, so where are you? Exactly where?” Racer asked.
“We’re right above the plaza, coming in for a landing now,” Trixie answered. I’ll leave the heli on the back road to draw a little less attention.”
“Mmn…okay. Good luck!” Speed said, though thought _Even though I’m sure Mr. Dave already knows they’re here. He’s probably even listening in to all of this right now! …but you know what? I don’t care! I’m so tired of this…I’m so sick of this, sick of all of this! Literally! Trixie and I – heck even Spritle and I’ve gotten through things the police haven’t been able to solve before. I believe we can even get out of this. And I WANT to! I can’t take another bathtime, I can’t take another showtime! I want to go home – I NEED to GO HOME!_
___ | 85c39201a295475fb3e78221fddbadd2 | ['bdbfa3d910a74f3299cc498fa386c34e'] | “Mm, mmhm, I like that song a lot, too! Hmhm, how about the Pops that isn’t mine? You know, Satchmo!” the chestnut-haired one joked, also humming an intro that was ironically scat-sung anyhow. “ _Life! …is so peculiaaar…you get so WET in the rain_...”
Janet drew in a quiet gasp, grinning, and quickly matching the beat he’d begun bobbing his head to. “ _You get so waaarm in the SUNSHINE_ …” she joined in.
The pair shared a particularly silly grin as they harmonized. “ _It doesn’t pay to complaiiin_!”
“Nothin’ pays around here!” Oiler heckled again, griping “Can you guys save the singin’ for the kiddie stage, huh? I’m tryin’ to nap over here.”
Still in the jazz swing, Speed and Guthrie continued. “ _When I get up each morning, there’s nothing to breathe but air_ …” the former sang, cheerfully despite his recent brush with asphyxiation.
“ _And when I look in the mirror, there’s nothing to comb but hair_!” the latter went on, giving hers a bit of a flip.
“ _And when I sit down to breakfast, there’s nothing to eat but FOOD_ …”
Snake thrashed, stamping his stilts on the floor – finally waking Surtees with a start – with a rigid point of arm and finger. “SPEED, I swear to Green Mamba, I’m gonna come over there an’ put you BACK in that gigglefit you came in with!”
“SORRY, Snake!” the chestnut-haired one said, shoulders rising – though Janet gave them a reassuring methodic squeeze, turning.
“Just close your eyes and drift off to the music, Snake. You can’t be hungry or eat if you’re snoozing, so relax,” she coaxed.
He glared at her, hissing with a whistle through his missing canines, folding his arms and fidgeting and grumbling until he found a more comfortable lean, closing his eyes with a last snort and mumbled gripe.
Both watching until the wavy-brown-haired one seemed distracted and calmed, the pair shared a smirking glance and a snorting snicker, lowering their voices to a whisper though they finished the stanza “ _Life is so peculiar but you can’t stay home and brood_!”
Blinking and taking in the scene, John chuckled softly, shook his head, adjusted his own position, mumbled something about “Americans…” and drifted back off as well soon enough.
___
“Hey, kids! Look what I found!” Speedster called out, music mushrooming as the latest school-age lunch rush gathered around the stage. Their eyes were drawn to the shiny logo-emblazoned coin in his non-mic hand that he now hoisted as he sang.
“ _A token, a token, a shiny golden token…it’s just a little lame, only worth one game… but if you spend plenty of them, you’ll have yourself a ticket_!”
“ _A ticket, a ticket,_ ” Snake sang, “ _a Raceway winning ticket…won’t get you nothin’ much, no candy, toys, and such …but if you win enough of them, you’ll have yourself a prize_!”
“ _A prize, a prize, a take-home special prize_!” Janet sang, “ _A plush or basketball, any goodie off the wall…if you save twenty of them, you’ll have yourself a meal_!”
“Noo!” the boy racers chided her.
“ _If you save fifty of them, you’ll have yourself a meal_!” she corrected musically.
Another “Noo!” and some laughs.
“Oh, right – _if you save a hundred, then, you’ll have yourself a meal_!”
“Now you’ve got it!” Raceway cheered.
“Such a ditz…” Oiler jabbed.
“ _A meal, a meal, a delicious trackside meal_ ,” John sang, his proud pedigreed British larynx piping a bit of theatrical vibrato into the ridiculous stanza, “ _Combo with large drink and fries, onion rings, or other sides! And when you order five of them, you’ll have yourself a voucher_!”
“ _A voucher, a voucher, big shiny Raceway voucher_!” the star attraction sang, “ _Will get you in and out all day, or a discount when your parents pay – and if you save enough of them, a free gift on your birthday_! Yeah!”
The kids whooped and hollered, cheered and clapped, bouncing and clamoring back to their aforementioned parents begging for money for tokens, and combo meals, and SRP party plans.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Songs that Speed and Janet sing:
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wvCohsoW0B8
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDMMeDOj2wc
>
> Original 'Spend your parents' money here!' song:
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4TC0-5Zs9g
>
> ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ♪
8. Chapter 8
“ _One of sixteeeen vestal virgiiins…who were leeeaviiing for the coooast…and althoooooough my eeeyes were ooopeeeeeen…they might juuust as weeell been clooosed_ …” Guthrie sang quietly to Speed as she rubbed his back again – then felt him twitch as he began to softly moan and rather dramatically feign a slumping leftward faint.
Giving a quick smirk, the female driver quickly caught up, playing along. “Oh, oh no! I accidentally hit on all your weaknesses again, I’m so sorry! Speed, Speeeed!” she cried, scooping him up to a frontward cradle. He was visibly trying not to grin himself, arms thrown up, bent, his head turned, right hand hanging limply on his jaw. “Speak to me, how are you feeling?”
“Weak…very weak…” he sputtered, sneaking a peek at her with a half-opened right eye before shutting it again. “You got me good…!”
“Oh, nono, what can I do?” she asked.
“Come closer…” he said. She nodded, leaning nearer.
“Yes?”
“Closer…closer….” he echoed, barely audible, with a soft choking sound.
“Uh-huh?” she said, her ear inches from his mouth.
Now he let himself grin, yanking his arms down, and vigorously tickling her ribs and sides, with a snicker and a tease of “Tickletickletickle!”
Her initial shriek had both the others opening their eyes, though they snorted, shook their heads, and resumed their naps – John with a sleepy chuckle, Snake with a grumble.
“AHAhahaha! SPEEHEEHEED! HahaHAHA!” she giggled, wriggling a little extra and doing a dramatic collapse of her own into his arms when he finally slowed and stopped, her head on his shoulder. |
ed32e12504554a4c902a7d7a383958b3 | ['bdf91ead1328433197f7d6b7b6c2d1fc'] | The third DW season is arguably the darkest, and while this certainly also reflects Ten's mood after having lost Rose, not all of the problematic aspects of _The Runaway Bride_ and his S3 arc are directly linked to that. Much of the season's darkness comes from the exploration of the destructive, ugly side of human nature, a theme that with the exception of Ten's brief (and considering the context somewhat questionable) outburst in _The Christmas Invasion_ was barely present in DW before, but much more dominant in TW S1 with episodes like _Countrycide_ , which triggered Gwen's crisis, _Greeks Bearing Gifts_ , which left Toshiko wondering how she was supposed to live with her disillusionment, or _Combat_.
_Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel_ already briefly raised the question of what defines humanity, but in S3 this becomes a much more prominent theme, starting with _Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks_. The motif of _'life will out'_ that was introduced in _New Earth_ and made the Doctor so happy there now unfolds with all its complexity, ambiguity—and darkness. Starting with the Plasmavore in _Smith and Jones_ who calls herself a _'survivor at any cost'_ , life, the will to survive, isn't an unequivocally positive thing any longer, and now this isn't restricted to single instances of bad judgement like Lady Cassandra or Mr. Lumic, but is being discussed on a more general level and linked to the darkest times of recent history. Dalek Sec calls humans the _'great survivors'_ that even the Daleks might take inspiration from and at the same time recognises Dalek qualities in them. The Doctor may claim that _'ambition, hatred, aggression, and war'_ isn't _'what humanity means'_ , but considering that the episodes are set in 1930, Hitler's shadow already looming while one Dalek is willing to give up the dream of supremacy and dies for that, he would have a hard time arguing that this isn't at least part of what humanity _is_. Joining with Mr. Diagoras gives Dalek Sec emotions and in the end free will, but it's the _'little bit of freedom'_ that came from the Doctor's Time Lord DNA that makes the Dalek humans stop and ask why, not their human nature, and it is John Smith, child of his time, who teaches schoolboys to shoot, preparing them for war and sending them out to fight a supernatural enemy to protect him.
_The Lazarus Experiment_ develops this theme further. Mortality is once again the essential quality that defines _'what it means to be human'_ according to both the Doctor and Prof. Lazarus, but the latter intends to redefine it, because for him _'Avoiding death, that's being human. It's our strongest impulse, to cling to life with every fibre of being.'_ Now this is obviously not equally true for everyone, or maybe true in a higher sense where the individual will to live can transcend itself for the greater good, as plenty of people willing to sacrifice themselves for others have already shown over the course of the show, but the season finale will demonstrate to what extremes humanity can be driven by the terror of extinction. What makes Prof. Lazarus's story more complex than Lady Cassandra's and links it to the two previous episodes is that his inability to accept his death is shown as coming from his traumatic childhood war experience: _'I swore I'd never face death like that again. So defenceless. I would arm myself. Fight back. Defeat it'_ , and in this he maybe isn't so very different from the Doctor, whose issues with death are also rooted in the fact that he saw too much of it in the Time War and felt he had no choice but to cause more in order to prevent an even worse outcome. _Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks_ is overshadowed by and thematically anticipates World War II, _The Lazarus Experiment_ deals with the psychological scars the war left, and _Human Nature/The Family of Blood_ is set on the eve on World War I; the episodes themselves may not directly address the horrors of these wars, but they evoke them enough to prepare the ground for the finale, where humanity will once more turn against itself. | 75fc633754e64e32908294b017958818 | ['bdf91ead1328433197f7d6b7b6c2d1fc'] | _Captain Jack Harkness_ also showed how reluctant Jack usually is to give up the truth about his past, how effectively and throroughly he hides behind the persona he chose and projects; only at the end of the episode Toshiko finally found out the truth hidden behind layers of silence, evasions and lies. In CoE this choice is out of Jack’s hands almost from the beginning. Starting with the explosion in _Day One_ that tears Jack's body apart and takes out the Hub, erasing much of his past on Earth and destroying the only home he'd known in more than a century, the masks start coming off one after another. In _Day Three_ Gwen and Ianto, more than Jack himself, make an attempt to put back together again what they lost at least on a makeshift material level. Ianto gives Jack back the trappings and armour of his persona, and that at least for a moment restores Jack's confidence and sense of self ( _'I'm back.'_ ), but it doesn't erase the trauma of the last couple of days that is still visible in the stark honesty of his conversation with Ianto in the warehouse, and that Jack never fully recovers from before the next blow hits with the realisation that the events of 1965 are at the bottom of all this, and a different kind of explosion slowly and inexorably takes his life apart from the inside out, throwing him into a turmoil of events he never manages to gain control over. Jack’s remorse when he comes face to face with Clem whose entire life had been stolen, leaving him in every way that matters stuck in 1965 more than Jack, who remained the same only physically, is genuine, without even an attempt at justifications or evasions, and after Clem shot him, Jack probably for the first time over the course of the show actively reaches out for support and comfort, first clinging to Ianto when he wakes up, and then walking over to him while Gwen is going after Clem, even at the risk of the uncomfortable questions he can reasonably expect. There are absolutely no defences when Ianto throws, _'That's not what I meant'_ , back at him, just shock and hurt; it’s only in the next scene with Gwen, buttoning up a fresh shirt, erasing the last traces of his death that already are no longer visible on his body, that the defences slide back in place again: _'We had no choice.'_
But the full horror of it hits Jack, and hits him visibly harder than any of the others, only when he sees the images; his incredulous, shocked, _'It's still just a child'_ , because this—not death, but being condemned to live under such terrible circumstances without the possibility to end it—is what Jack can most viscerally empathise with. And this is where Ianto, who unlike Gwen isn’t for a moment willing to accept Jack’s claim about not having had a choice, probably without even knowing what buttons he is pushing, so easily and without the least hesitation resolving a dilemma that Jack faced years before Ianto was even born, makes Jack want to be a hero again, never mind common sense. This is where almost accidentally Jack and Ianto between them create this ill-timed 'What Would the Doctor Do?' moment, and what already didn't work in _Journey's End_ goes horribly wrong in TW, where there are no deus ex machina solutions. And this isn't the end yet of this chain of cause and effect from which there is no escape for Jack, not even the one Frobisher takes; there is no one to save him from either having to do something terrible or live with the guilt of having done nothing. The brutal logic of CoE is that Jack, who was picked to deliver the children in 1965 because they wanted someone who didn't care, now, rather like Frobisher, who said no for the first time when it came to his own daughters, who weren't _'units'_ after all, but _'just girls'_ , cares desperately; that Jack, who sometimes has a rather too casual relationship with death now is forced to face just what killing another person means, what death means, when you're not weighing numbers and don't have the luxury of not knowing the names. And Jack, who gladly would have died instead of Steven, can't. So far Jack's immortality, unwanted as it was, has helped him dodge consequences to an extent, certainly in the S1 finale, but also in _Exit Wounds_ ; this time his death, set at the beginning of the story rather than its end, doesn't solve anything, it doesn’t save anyone or atone for anything. In _Day Four_ and _Day Five_ the masks come off pretty thoroughly, showing not just both Ianto and Gwen that there is a lot more to Jack than they were aware of or wanted to see, but also confronting Jack himself with who he was, who he is and what he is capable of. When Jack says good bye to Gwen in the end, he's still wearing the coat Ianto bought him, but he leaves in search of a new life and his old self doesn't really fit any longer. |
44ee5e7b4377474983fb0bc50b326164 | ['be138c46cfff4e8193943d919df1e530'] | "Tristan, truth or dare" asked Drew.
"Dare! Can't possibly be worse than Drew's!" Drew's penis twitched at this statement from Tris.
"Since you seem so insistent on staring at my dick, lets see yours!" Drew replied, I made myself a bit more comfortable and got ready to see what Tris was hiding, I'd seen Tristan's smooth, cute but firm bum before, but not his meat and two veg.
Tristan slipped off his shirt revealing his skinny frame, Tristan may not be muscly like James or tanned like Brad, but his snail trail is to die for, I can't wait to see what is at the end of that snail trail, without hesitation Tristan pulled down his trousers and pants in one go and showed off the goods.
Tristan was hard, understandable considering Drew Dirksen is sat there with a hard on, his penis was probably around 7 inches, but quite thin, Tristan did various poses before sitting down butt naked on the floor.
"So before all of you guys go blind from staring at the little guy wishing yours was anything like him, James truth or dare?"
"Dare"
"Show us all how long it takes you to cum."
"But I don't have anything to get me there"
"Me and Blondie over there have our dicks out, what more could you want!" The way this is going maybe I don't need to wait for my chance to cum.
James took his shirt off to reveal the famous McVey abs, he pulled off his socks before getting into his boxer briefs, James revealed all, his 9 inch monster.
James started jerking his cock off stood up, at this point my cock was harder than I'd ever seen it before, James started playing with his balls, at this point I let out a massive groan and came 4 massive spurts of cum right into my boxers.
"Clean up on Aisle Con" exclaimed Brad.
Drew came over to me and took my shirt off, pulled my trousers down and started licking my cock dry, this was enough for my dick to grow once again, at this point I grabbed hold of Drew's penis and started jerking it off, Drew threw back his head in pleasure, I pushed Drew off before going up to his penis and deep throating it, I'd never sucked a penis before, but going by Drew's reaction I was doing it just right!
30 seconds later Drew moaned and warned me that his load was ready, instead of getting out of there I continued sucking on his member, that's when Drew released 5 hot spurts of seamen into my mouth, before I swallowed Drew leaned in and gave me a massive snog, both of us had our mouths full of each others load, we mixed it up like an exotic Spanish cocktail.
We were so out of it that we totally missed James, Brad and Tris all cum, when we finally got back into full consciousness Austin finally blew his load.
"Well that was fun wasn't it boys" said Tristan
"Next time we should just get into the wanking straight away" Austin said nervously, we all laughed before starting to clean up the mess we'd left, this holiday was shaping up to be an amazing one. | e5b8c823027946c6af63d556cee30487 | ['be138c46cfff4e8193943d919df1e530'] | Good Day
Blake’s POV
I’ve been in a band with my two best friends, Reece and George for quite a few years now, but for those few years I’ve managed to bottle up my feeling towards them both.
They were like my brothers, but at the same time they are both incredibly hot, you’d have to be blind to not appreciate the beauty of them both. They both knew I was gay and were brilliant about it.
We had just finished an interview with a magazine in London and had just got back to our hotel, after meeting a handful of fans outside, we went up to our room
We were all in a conjoined room, with me and Reece in one room and George in the other.
It was mid summer and ridiculously warm, so George had taken his top off.
“I don’t get how you’re still wearing that shirt Blake.” George taunted me with.
“I’m sorry if I’m not constantly naked around you” I joked back, if only I was.
“Not that there would be a problem with that Blakey” Reece said whilst taking his top off.
I decided to take mine off as well, it’s only flesh after all.
“Looking sexy Blakey” Reece joked.
“The body is definitely overcompensating though.” George said
“Some people get all the luck Georgey, I’m just naturally gifted.”
“Prove it.” Reece came out with, as if I’d get my cock out for George and Reece.
“If you wanted to see my cock Reece, you should’ve just asked before!”
“Brilliant, I’ve asked now, so drop them”
“Go On Richardson, let’s see the monster!”
Reluctantly I agreed, but on promise that we’d all get them out, it’s only fair right?
I took my shoes and socks off and pulled my trousers down, leaving me in just my black Calvin’s, am I really doing this?
Before I could chicken out I dropped my boxers and let my 6 inch flaccid penis hang out.
“Woah Blake, how do you keep that in your trousers?” Reece asked.
“Yeah Blake, what do you feed that thing?”
“Enough is enough, let’s see them now boys.”
Reece whipped his shorts and boxers down in one go, whilst George was taking his time undoing his belt, obviously nervous.
Reece’s penis was a work of art, about 5 inches, thick as anything with a huge bush of public hair, with a pair of low hanging balls.
George finally pulled his trousers down, but was hesitating taking the rest off.
“George, you don’t have to get it out if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to Blake, it’s just you two are so big, it’s embarrassing being so small, I thought mine was alright until I saw yours.”
“Oh George” I said, whilst cuddling him “I very much doubt you’ll be small, and there’s nothing wrong with it even if you are.”
“Okay, I’ll do it, but only because it’s you two” he dropped the boxers to show off his 5 inch penis, which was skinnier than both of ours.
“George, it’s beautiful, what were you going on about when you said it was small?” I complimented him.
“Yeah George, that’s above average for sure, and it’s only flaccid! We should get them hard boys.”
I’m glad Reece said that, as I was getting hard anyway, the three of us were stroking our dicks.
“If only them lot outside knew what was happening in here.” Reece laughed .
I was the first one to get fully hard, all 7 and a half inches were pointing towards the ceiling.
“Woah Blake, can I touch it?” Asked Reece, I had been praying this moment would happen all my life, I nodded as Reece put his hand around my length, stroking it slightly.
“I can barely get my hand around it Blake.” Reece said whilst still stroking his own member to full length.
George was also stroking himself whilst looking at us, he was close to full mast.
I’d relaxed for way too long as next thing I knew it, I was close to cumming.
“Reece, you can stop now, I’m close.”
“Why would that stop me” he said whilst picking up the pace, it was too late as I ended up cumming all over Reece’s hand, I was mortified when I realise some of it landed on George’s foot.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry George.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Let me get that” I said whilst scooping my spunk off of George’s perfect feet, George was painfully hard and still jerking himself off, naturally I took his smooth balls in my mouth, giving them a good suck.
George moaned my name and 7 ropes of cum came out of his 7 inch erect cock, landing on my chest, George came right over and started rubbing it into my olive skin like sun cream.
“Has everyone forgot about me?” Reece said, still jerking himself off.
I went up to him and put his penis in my mouth, I could barely fit it in, but thankfully I have a good gag reflex.
All of a sudden Reece groaned as George started to finger his beautiful arse.
“I’m close Blake.” He moaned before becoming undone in my mouth as it filled up with his salty cum.
All of us got into Reece’s bed, me in the middle.
“Sex next time?” Said Reece as we all fell asleep naked in his bed. |
948962c2f40346478a99c01d163de6a8 | ['be1418ed8f614b16b7aaa33470616184'] | Laura licked her lips, counting them off on one hand, “I’m not gonna talk to Danny, because—no. And, Perry just agrees with her. And Laf just shakes their head and looks at the ground and says ‘blah, blah blah, insert irrelevant usually horrifying information here.’ And I’m not gonna talk to Kirsh about it, because I might as well talk to a _puddle_ for all the help it’ll do. And then for _sure_ he’d blab to _D-bear_ about it. And that would just start—a whole thing. So there’s no one left. Except my cat. And well—my cat is biased too. That’s the mom that picked all her little fleas out when we found her.”
“Damn, L—can’t even talk to your _cat_ ,” Noelle looked at the ground, lashes framing her eyes mischievously, “Too bad those are _all_ your friends.”
Laura smirked, drolly, “Yup.”
_“Laura!_ ”
She chuckled lightly, watching Noelle’s indignation, before saying, finally, “There’s not even anything…to tell. I mean— we’ve broken up _three times_. We are clearly not good at this. There’s nothing to say when you’re talking about two women who—over a span of seven years—are still circling the same argument, and getting nowhere.”
“Seems actually—” Noelle started up, but the phone rang, and Laura answered it swiftly—mostly to end the conversation.
“Miss Hollis,” Laney’s bright, clear voice rang in her ear.
“What’s up, Lane?”
“Your dad’s on line one.”
“My dad?” her heartrate picked up, trying to remember the last time she’d been a good daughter ( _Fuck_ — _Thanksgiving),_ “Uh yeah, put him through.”
A click, and then, “ _Kiddo_?”
“Hey dad—how _are_ you?”
His laughter in her ear made all the dread dissipate.
“I’m good—glad to be at this point in our relationship where I have to go through your secretary.”
“Laney’s a receptionist. _Noelle’s_ my secretary.”
Laura smirked, watching Noelle scoff in her chair, “Fuck you—but tell him hi.”
“Dad, Noelle says fuck you.”
He hummed, “Tell her to fuck off too.”
She nodded, turning back to the girl, “He says fuck off.”
Hearing his laughter, she could almost _see_ his wide smile, “Staying out of trouble, kiddo?”
“Yeah,” she blanched, “You know me—no trouble at all.”
“And the move,” he cleared his throat, his rough baritone a little clearer, “Everything work out? Did Carmilla like it?”
“Carmilla?” she choked a bit, coughing, “Um yeah. The move, Carmilla, everything’s—good.”
He sighed, and she could almost feel it in her own chest.
“I miss you two,” he told her, “I know it’s been busy but…seems like forever since you two came out here _together_. I just—it’d be…you know… _nice,_ is all…”
Her heart beat heavy—feeling like a time bomb in her ribs, “Oh—the two of us. Just—um— _yeah_ , no—uhh—let me just—you know, run it _by_ her and—you know—could I—call you back? Um—tonight?”
He brightened up. She did too (just at having some more time).
“Okay—perfect. I’ll talk to you later then, kid.”
“Talk—talk to you later, dad.”
She sighed, placing the phone down solemnly (carefully, as if it were somehow physically connected to him).
She ignored Noelle’s beaming smirk.
(For like, three Mississippis)
Before—“Okay—so—so my dad thinks we’re still together. That’s—it’s just—we were really off and on and then—I don’t like to give him bad news…is…my thing. And he really loves her. And—you know what—none of your business—back to work.”
12. Do We Really Have to Fight?
\\\
Licking up Laura’s salty skin was a favorite pastime. From the girl’s collarbone and up her neck, Carmilla’s tongue traced a path.
It had been a few (annoying) days since she’d last been summoned here. She tried not to wonder why.
And she tried not to note Laura’s glassy eyes, or the time of night—the fact that her mouth tasted like a heady mix of girly drinks when they kissed. Tart berries and sugar and alcohol.
Laura backed up till she was falling into her new couch and Carmilla climbed onto her lap to keep kissing her. The boxes were all gone now. Everything was in a neat order; a few pieces of furniture found a fitting niche, and some of Laura’s posters were up on the walls. That fact was a nice surprise. The fact that it felt like Laura’s _place_ all of a sudden and how the thought caused a soft warmth to ripple through her chest.
A shiver jumped down her spine at the glare in Laura’s eyes as she settled herself back against the sofa cushions. It was always obvious what the girl wanted when it came to sex (subtlety wasn’t her thing in regards to anything really but _especially_ when it came to intimacy).
Her hips bucked up against her, and Carmilla took pity; tugging on the buttons of her jeans and pulling them off.
Eager moans were already falling from the girl’s pretty pink lips.
Carmilla smiled, hovering over Laura’s open lap (her legs had fallen that way easily, after her jeans finally came off). She pressed her face against the soft cotton of her panties—already quite soaked through—and mumbled, “Navy with white polka dots.”
Laura threw her head back, laughing, “Why do you always have to… _announce_ it?”
Carmilla hummed against her, not explaining. Focused on laying light kisses along the cotton and a harder one where she felt the indent of Laura’s clitoris.
Two strong thighs split at either side of her head kept her face in place against Laura’s mound. The girl’s voice was breathy when she spoke, “Take them off babe, come on. I really want it.”
Carmilla tugged at them with her teeth till they were mid-thigh, then bunched them in her hand and ripped them off.
They’d been pretty and everything but—it was too sexy; how little Laura’s voice got when she begged, and Carmilla couldn’t help herself. It made it impossible to do anything but immediately surrender—slice her tongue through Laura’s soft folds with no hesitation. | d4f903f0e3964e639d3565956ad5a3ec | ['be1418ed8f614b16b7aaa33470616184'] | Laura hated sometimes, her own open face. She could feel the burn of her smile stretch her lips, “Thanks—there’s one thing I think you’ll, um, really like.”
Carmilla’s hand was hot, and soft, in hers. Vampiric strength notwithstanding, the girl always felt very delicate.
“There’s a third room—not a bedroom—kind of like…a den? Anyway—”
She led her down the hall, through the white double doors. The room was long, and sort of narrow.
“I figured we could put some bookcases up. And like, chairs— _leopard-print_ chairs, if you want. A desk—deep-red mahogany, whatever. And we could keep the lighting always sort of low. This could be like—a cool study. For you. And a neat setting for future vlogs, right?”
Laura was hyper-aware of licking her lips probably a little too much. Her mouth just felt—dry. It was especially noticeable to her when she swallowed.
“ _Plus_ ,” she nodded towards the ceiling, “Look up.”
The room had a wide skylight. Long window-panels arched towards each other to make a peak.
“You can read under the stars.”
The look on Carmilla’s face now was worth the entirety of the deposit she’d had to scrape from every bit of her savings for this place. She wished she’d unpacked her polaroid camera. As it was, she just watched the girl and tried to imprint her expression into memory—the way she closed her eyes, and the way her lips pulled up; their slope.
“And, _also_ , you can tell me what…constellations are currently above us. When we stargaze.”
Carmilla’s eyes fluttered open then. Even the line between her brow, Laura thought was pretty. Even her frown.
“What about super sunny days?—It’ll be annoying—”
“Oh there’s like—a remote control slide-panel thing to cover it so—no worries. Didn’t want to come home to find you turned into a pile of dust under a copy of like, Nietzsche or something. And I know you can stand the sun all right for a while, but I didn’t want to risk it. I know it can start to hurt and—maybe even a lot if it’s for an extended time. You wouldn’t be that dumb, but you’d be that _lazy…_ I might even try to time it so it automatically opens at night and closes before sun-up. I’ll get Laf to rig it.”
“You’re—”
Carmilla shook her head, seemingly speechless. Laura flushed from the pride she felt.
“I knew you’d like it,” she bit her lip but her grin was still winning, “I—wanted you to. When I was looking at places…I’d think—if Carm wouldn’t feel good here then I don’t want it.”
Laura caught herself swaying a bit towards her. She wanted to reach up and kiss her happy little laugh lines. Her heart fell a bit, at their disappearance.
“But why?” The frown was marring her brow again, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to turn this into…a yoga studio—or—whatever your dear Ann might like. Maybe a closet for her scrunchie collection—”
“Carm—”
“A gross sauna for her gross golf friends—”
“ _Carm…_ come on—”
“Oh! A vanilla-sex dungeon! With soundproof walls for all the orgasms you’ll be embellishing—”
“ _Carmilla_!”
A third admonishment seemed to do the trick. Not that she _looked_ admonished. She just smirked; satisfied with herself. As always.
Laura shrugged at her in a half-hearted gesture, “We broke up. Like two weeks ago.”
She felt Carmilla’s eyes search her face (looking for what?—Laura was unsure).
“I know,” she said, finally, “Are you _sad_? Is that why it took so long for you to call me for sex this time?”
Laura gaped; feeling flustered and a little unsteady on her feet, “That’s— _what_?—how did you know?”
“Answer mine first.”
“No, I’m not sad,” her answer was prompt, mind still clearly focused on her own questions, “And I’ve been busy, y’know— _moving_. _So_ …tell me how you knew.”
Perfectly arched brows rose sardonically, “Stalking’s just part of my complex vampiric nature, cupcake. I can’t help but be obsessed with you.”
“ _Stop flustering me_ —”
“Oh relax,” Carmilla drawled out; eyes: deadpan, expression: droll, “I knew because she’s blasting you all over twitter. Try not to freak out about it.”
Laura bit her lip, face all scrunched up, “ _Ugh_.”
“It’s no surprise, really. You have awful taste,” Carmilla watched her through dark lashes, “With one big exception, obviously.”
It was a gradual pull. _Something she does with her eyes._ It always made Laura’s heart flutter faster. It made swallowing hard—her own spit a little thicker. A mass formed in her stomach—hot and always growing. It threw her off-balance.
“Carm—” her voice was always so high-pitched (so optimistic; hoping), “Do you want me to get us some blankets, and some pillows—and we can set up under the skylight and—just look at _stars_ like old times?”
\\\
2. Happy Endings
\\\
Carmilla had missed it.
The way her hair bounced as she laughed. And her face lit up.
_How good it feels, to be her focus._
A lot of times, she’d declined to see her; ignored her texts. Felt volatile. Still pissed over their _last_ split. Laura seemed all too happy to let it go.
She seemed so— _okay._ So moved on. So settled into this new definition of _them._ Regardless of how cheap a thing it was. _Why define it?—When it’s so common and gross? Why give it a name?_
She watched Laura lick her lips (still talking about her newest epic adventure—how bad the corporation—how righteous her anger—how cunning her plans to expose them…Carmilla kept up).
It was always hard to be so close to her.
_God, but she’s got pretty breasts._
She wore her loose army-green tank (one Carmilla had stolen many times; because it was soft in that way that Laura’s clothes always were, and it never lost her scent). The thing kept falling off her right shoulder a bit and _that’s_ what kept dragging her eyes to the girl’s cleavage. |
241b6ec54c3e4f00a29b7f07a166a84f | ['be160a4536e549749ffb2ebde72a032b'] |
Open Your Eyes
Jared's head pressed against Peter's chest above him, and he moaned gently as Peter's hand closed around the base of his cock. He loved when Peter touched him like this, made him feel so small. He shifted a little, to give him a better angle, and licked at Peter's throat as Peter squeezed him. Peter's other hand caught in his hair, tugging him backwards, so that Peter could bend to kiss his mouth.
Jared still hadn't got used to being kissed by Peter, wasn't sure he would ever get used to being kissed by Peter. He loved it, loved the control Peter had, the feel of stubble against him, he loved having Peter's weight over him, lying casually over him like he didn't even know what it was doing, how Jared couldn't move, could hardly breathe. He ran his hand down Peter's arm, tight skin over firm muscles. Peter was good at kissing, really good, soft and delicate, but sort of demanding. So it took Jared longer than it should have before he realised that Peter's hand wasn't moving on his dick.
When he noticed, he whined into Peter's mouth, and wriggled, pushing forward, deeper into Peter's grip, making it obvious what he wanted. When that didn't work, he pulled back from the kiss, his mouth moving against Peter's lips. "Peter."
Peter moved slightly then, his hand pulling on Jared's cock for a glorious second, but he stopped again. "Open your eyes."
Jared didn't. He frowned, and wriggled again, " _Peter._ "
Peter let go of his cock completely and pushed away, putting distance between them. At that Jared's eyes flew open, and blinked up at him, his hand immediately closed around Peter's arm, holding him to stop him leaving.
"What's wrong?" Jared asked, trying to disguise the note of panic as best he could.
Peter stopped trying to pull away. "It's okay," he promised, and Jared breathed a little easier. But he still frowned too, his eyebrows drawing together, trying to work out what he was supposed to do.
"What do you want?" he asked in the end.
"You always have your eyes shut."
Jared dropped his head to one side, looking away. "What? Does that matter?"
Peter lowered himself to one side of Jared, resting a hand easily on Jared's middle, pressing his palm against Jared's skin, his thumb stroking him softly.
"Not really. It's just... we don't talk, you're always quiet."
Jared looked at him as if he was an idiot. Or course they didn't talk, this was something they were only doing because they didn't talk about it, because they'd worked out a way to have it without having to think about it. Hand jobs, drunk usually, or when they were tired, when they needed a release without any complications. Jared knew that, knew exactly what this was, what he was allowed.
"Why would we talk?"
Peter didn't quite flinch. "I don't know," he said, "I want to sometimes. You close your eyes. Are you pretending it's not me?"
Jared's face made it quite clear that that wasn't a fair question. But also that the answer was yes, and he had no idea if that broke some sort of etiquette of this sort of thing.
"Oh," Peter said, in a way that left Jared with no real clue whether it was okay or not. "Do you pretend I'm a girl?"
Jared shook his head before he thought not to, before he realised he might not want to admit that. It was enough for Peter to notice, which made Jared half blush, and turn away again.
Peter stroked down Jared's side, warm and firm and Jared moved into the touch. Peter let him, held him closer. Jared slipped his arms around Peter's waist, gratefully hiding his head in Peter's shoulder.
"Why're you doing this?" he asked, slightly muffled.
Peter lowered his head and talked into Jared's hair. "I don't like... I want to be able to talk to you while we're.."
Jared moaned in horror, "Oh god, you want me to talk dirty with you?"
"Something like that. Sort of. I want to know what you like."
Jared nudged him with his head. "Peter. You know what I like." His words were muffled this time not just by Peter's shoulder, but by an avalanche of embarrassment as he realised what he was saying.
Peter took a second to enjoy that, felt good. "I want to know who you think about."
Jared shook his head.
"You always look so serious. I want you to enjoy yourself."
Jared sighed. "You know I enjoy myself, stop trying to get compliments."
"Just talk to me, it'll make it better."
Jared stared up at him trying to think of any single way talking could make this better. They both enjoyed themselves, why wasn't it okay for him to close his eyes, pretend it was different? He half pushed Peter away. "No, it's fine like it is."
Peter rolled with him, so he was half above him again, holding himself up on one elbow. Jared reached up to kiss him without thinking. Peter kissed back, and pushed his thigh firmly between Jared's, rocking so that his weight pressed down on Jared's cock. Jared's hands came up to hold him in place at once, he moaned into Peter's mouth, as his hips pressed forward, desperate for the touch.
And his eyes closed tightly.
Peter rocked back again immediately, putting a little space between them, but keeping his hands warm on Jared's skin.
When Jared's eyes opened again he was frowning again. "Is this really a thing?" he asked. He meant was it an issue, or was it something Peter was going to get over if he gave him a few minutes.
It was Peter's turn to hesitate, almost look away. "I don't know. It depends." | 0dfdedde734241ef99ba651c59569f72 | ['be160a4536e549749ffb2ebde72a032b'] | Peter kissed him. At first it was stupid, because it was _Peter_ , but at the same time it wasn't stupid because it was Peter and he liked Peter. Liked him a lot, he thought as Peter's tongue gently stroked over his lip, into his mouth. Liked him more than anything in the world, he thought probably. Peter's mouth opened for him and... Jared could hear Carmen and Pindar's sudden exclamations of surprise but he didn't care, his eyes were closed, his whole self caught up in the kiss. He vaguely heard the crash of cymbals and the rising surge of choral music accompanying them, but it didn't really register. Nothing registered until Peter pulled away from him in surprise.
"Wow," Peter whispered.
"Yeah."
But Peter wasn't talking about the kiss. "No," he paused and smiled, "Well yeah. But dude, look."
Jared looked at Peter who was still Peter even though he was apparently a magical elf prince or something, as well as Jared's destiny, as well as the best kisser in the known universe. But Peter wasn't looking at him, he was staring as golden glitter floated around them, glowing and swirling through the air. A butterfly landed on Jared's shoulder, just as Carmen gestured for them to look outside where there was a giant rainbow spread over the ocean. And small yellow and blue birds were fluttering on the balcony, singing.
"Oh," Jared said stupidly.
"True Love," Edward said contentedly.
Yeah, that sounded about right, Jared thought dizzily. He could feel an actual pull in his chest towards Peter, familiar but stronger now. Peter was grinning back at him, then he leaned and kissed him again for a second or two.
"Everybody else is seeing this, right?" Pindar asked. "There's, there's a..."
He pointed at the floor where a vine of green leaves with light pink flowers was steadily growing from the floorboards, twining around the couch legs, and up to where Peter and Jared were sitting.
"We see it," Carmen said reassuringly.
Edward was standing up, reaching for his cane, and adjusting his hair. "Don't be alarmed, it's only a short term reaction to your union. The universe is simply expressing its satisfaction. It must have been waiting for this for a long time."
"You're leaving?" Jared and Peter stood up as Edward started towards the door.
"Well my business is done, Jared Franklin. Curse averted."
"But Peter's a..." he pointed up and down at him. "He's, uh, a Prince. Do we have to do anything?"
"Oh, I'm sure his mother will be in touch about the wedding, but other than that no. Carry on as usual. And of course many congratulations to you both."
"Wedding," Jared said, tasting it more than anything else.
"That's okay, isn't it?" Peter asked.
He nodded. "Yeah." Then he smiled because it was _very_ okay, that meant Peter would stop trying to marry other people. "Yeah."
Peter grinned and kissed him again. When they next looked around Edward was gone, and Pindar was fending off a peacock with a broom.
"Douglas!" Jared said, happily.
"Any chance you two could lay off the physical stuff until we get the wildlife under control?" Carmen asked.
"Nope," Peter said.
"Don't think so," Jared agreed, standing on tip toes to kiss him some more.
"Guys," Carmen said, sounding unamused, picking her way over a variety of small woodland creatures which were gathering around their feet.
"Okay, okay," Peter said, and brushed some of the glitter out of Jared's hair. Jared felt his stomach dissolve into butterflies just because Peter had touched him. He took hold of Peter's hand so the feeling would last.
They sat down while Carmen carefully extracted Pindar from his own private hell and away to his room.
"You couldn't have got this all out in the open back when you were sixteen or something?" She muttered as she passed.
They ignored her and sat quietly for a minute or two. Jared breathed slowly.
"You okay?" Jared asked eventually; Peter was swaying very slightly.
"I'm not human."
Jared didn't know what to say, he just squeezed Peter's hand.
"And cursed."
"I don't think you are cursed any more, I think this, us, thing, saves you from that."
"Oh."
Jared wanted to kiss him again, but he was worried that they might bring forth unicorns next, or dancing brooms or something.
But then Peter said, "I don't mind being cursed if it means I have you."
And immediately Jared didn't care what the universe was going to do, he kissed Peter again. Kissed him long and soft, until Peter pulled him up into his lap so he would be closer and kissed him some more. Peter's arms were around him and he was smiling, and Jared could hear violins and he could hear Carmen cursing them and Pindar yelling something about fireworks but he didn't care because Peter was in love with him and it felt like every problem he'd ever had in his life had just unknotted itself.
\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -
"How did we not know?" Jared asked a couple of hours later. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling because he could never look at Peter again because the last time he'd looked at Peter Peter had had Jared's cock in his mouth and it had been awesome but now Jared was going to blush for the rest of his life and never make eye contact with his best friend ever again.
"I think we at least sort of knew," Peter said, lying next to him, getting his breath. "We knew we were awesome together."
"We're really, really awesome together." He didn't look but he knew Peter grinned happily at that, taking the compliment.
Then Peter's phone buzzed on the stand. He groaned and didn't pick it up. "It'll be my mom. I'll have to tell her."
"That we're awesome together?" |
9084a314759842ffac0d635791589773 | ['be20d205a6db4e91877434c1369804bd'] |
Simple
**"Eeeeeh?!"**
Students paused in what they were doing to stare at Kosaka Yoriko. When they saw that she was only pointing at her friend, they dismissed her as just a teenage girl gossiping with her friend and moved on with their lives to finally go home after a long day at school.
"Sit down, you’re making people stare at us." Kirishima Touka gently admonished her friend. "Yoriko!"
"I just can’t.."
"Can’t what?"
Yoriko grinned manically at her friend. “I can’t believe you are ditching our afternoon review session for a date!” Yoriko squealed, her face staining red in excitement. “A date with Eyepatch-kun!”
It was Touka’s turn to splutter in embarrassment. “What?”
"Ohoho. You, my friend, are blushing right now!" Yoriko giggled and threw her things in her school bag. "Tell me details."
Touka sighed. She knew it would a pain in the ass if Yoriko knew what she would be doing. “There are no details, for goodness’ sake!”
"Of course there are. You are going out with him this afternoon. So who asked out whom?"
"Wha-what?"
"Did Eyepatch-kun ask you out…or…" Yoriko smiled. "You asked him out, didn’t you?"
Touka choked on her own spit.
"Aha!"
"YORIKO."
"What? I bet you did. Eyepatch-kun is too shy and meek and kind. I bet he was too embarrassed to ask you out! Eyepatch-kun—"
"His name is Kaneki." Touka interrupted. She was getting pissed at the word ‘Eyepatch’ since it was her name for Kaneki when she wasn’t acknowledging him as someone important. Plus, ‘Eyepatch’ was a term or alias for his ghoul-self. It would be bad if the CCG put the pieces together.. "Call him Kaneki."
Yoriko smiled fondly at her friend. She felt so glad that Touka was finally, finally getting what she deserved. Some happiness in her life. “So…Kaneki-kun, huh?”
**"San."**
Yoriko blinked at Touka’s sharp tone.
**"Kaneki-san. Call him that."**
"Ehhh. Why?" Yoriko was utterly confused.
Touka snapped back to reality and blushed. “U-um.. Well he is older than us by two years so..”
Yoriko grinned. “I can’t believe you’re so..so..possessive!” She laughed. “Oh my god. Touka-chan. You are so cute!”
"I’m not! I’m not cute nor possessive! Stop it Yoriko."
"Okay, okay." Yoriko swiped some tears from the corner of her eyes. "Anyway, what are you going to wear for this date?"
"It’s not a date." Touka stood up. "Casual clothes. Why should I dress up?"
"Because. You need to dress up for a date!" Yoriko ran after her friend. She grabbed Touka’s hand. "Come on, I’ll help you."
"What!" Touka stumbled. "Don’t pull me. Hey! Don’t run!"
Yoriko just giggled. “Come on Touka-chan! You wouldn’t want to be late for your date!”
"Yoriko!"
* * *
"Man."
Kaneki sighed. “I really really regret telling you.” He instinctively caught a dress shirt thrown in his face. “Why did I call you again?”
Nagachika Hideyoshi poked his head out of Kaneki’s closet. “Since I am your best friend and you have to tell me when you go on dates. And well, you have disappeared for a long time and you owe me an explanation but you won’t give me one so..”
"Alright, I give up." Kaneki sighed. "Just..continue whatever you were doing."
Hide smiled. He held up a pair of dark jeans. “I didn’t know you had okay clothes. I thought you only had dork clothes. Did you buy all of these when you were gone?” He threw Kaneki the pants in hand. “Wear that.”
"Alright." Kaneki looked at his closet, it was brimming full of his mew clothes courtesy of one persistent gourmet. "They’re gifts from a..friend." He shrugged.
As Kaneki walked to his bathroom, Hide plopped down on his friend’s bed.
"Glad you’re back." Hide whispered.
"Ah?"
"Nothing. Come on, slowpoke. You shouldn’t make Touka-chan wait for you! You finally, finally get a decent date and then you’re gonna be late?" Hide clucked his tongue. "That’s bad manners, Kaneki."
"What? What time is it?" Kaneki rushed out the bathroom, looking flustered. "Is it already 4p.m.?"
Hide chuckled. “Nope. It’s just 3p.m. School just ended for Touka-chan.” He laughed at Kaneki’s face. “So. You finally had the guts to ask her out?”
"What?"
Despite how much Kaneki changed—his looks, his attitude, his eyes—Hide could still notice Kaneki’s flustered and embarrassed expression. Old Kaneki was still in there somewhere, thank the heavens.
"Well, you’ve always found her cute right? And don’t you think I never noticed how you look at her."
Kaneki wore his shirt and put on a somewhat fancy jacket. “What do you mean?”
"Well. I can’t really say for sure, but it reflects in your eyes whenever you look at her that you really care for her. I was wondering when you guys would get together." Hide shrugged.
"Get together huh?" Kaneki mumbled. "I don’t even know if she feels the same-" He cut himself off and furiously fought down a blush. Kaneki snapped his mouth shut and turned away from Hide, looked at his mirror and pretended to fix his hair.
Hide grinned. “So you are admitting that you like Touka-chan?”
Kaneki looked at Hide. “Um. Well.” He shrugged and gave up. He knew Hide would find out…eventually so. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Hide laughed out loud. He stood up and placed his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Good answer, Kaneki. We better go now though.”
"What do you mean ‘we’?" Kaneki gulped. "You can’t mean…"
"Let’s go!"
"Hide!"
* * *
Three sound and brief raps were heard from the door.
Yoriko stood up. “Oh! He’s here. I’ll go get the door! You tie that ribbon properly!”
Touka hastily stood up, tying the mentioned ribbon around her collar. “Wait, wait!”
Yoriko ignored her friend and ran faster to the door. She opened it and smiled widely,
"Eh?"
"Touka-cha—"
"Who are you?"
"Yoriko!" Touka reached her door to find Yoriko staring at one unexpected guest. "Hide-san?"
"Oh! Touka-cha—"
"Hide, you!" Kaneki looked up and stared at Touka. "Touka-chan.." | 425f19682cb746819d52f987a996bfa5 | ['be20d205a6db4e91877434c1369804bd'] | Disfigured
“What is this?” Touka stared blankly at the fancy white box presented to her. She lifted the small thing in her palm and shook it lightly. It made rattled noises. “What is this?” She looked at Kaneki—who just stood up from their bed and was about to go out their bedroom.
Kaneki smiled and sat back down on the bed. “Why don’t you open it and see for yourself?” He inched closer. The bed creaked in response to the added weight.
Touka sighed and was about to reject the “gift” but he looked so god damn happy that she almost saw the old black haired Kaneki instead of the white haired guy.
He looked so happy that it made her heart constrict in many different levels of happiness, relief, sadness and longing.
She shook her head to clear away bad, vicious thoughts and opened the box by untying the simple white ribbon on it.
"What."
Kaneki grinned. “Isn’t it cute?”
Touka lifted one…brown-thing and inspected it. “It’s a rabbit?”
Kaneki took one and held it to her face. “Yes it is! See, those are the ears and this—” He pointed to the buck-teeth on the…thing. “is its teeth. Pretty cute, huh?”
Touka cringed. The thing was anything but cute. It looked like a disfigured rabbit. Actually, it looked nothing like a cute rabbit. The so-called ears were long and curly enough to be snakes. Or worms. And the teeth…looked like chopsticks.
If that thing was actually a rabbit, its expression looked like it was asking—no, begging—Touka to end its miserable, pathetic life. Touka would have done it in a heartbeat.
It looked horrifically disfigured that Touka wanted to cry.
But then…Kaneki was looking at her expectantly.
_**Shit.** _
Horrifically disfigured or not, she still liked it (probably). She decided she loved it—whatever it was. Since Kaneki gave it to her.
"O-oh." Touka grimaced and prayed to every god that it could pass as a smile (judging by Kaneki’s expression though, she must have a pretty good and deceiving grin). "It looks different from the other rabbits I usually see. It’s unique. I like it."
Kaneki’s smile grew wider. “Try it then.”
"Try?"
"Eat it, silly Touka-chan." Kaneki chuckled. "Tell me if it tastes good. I tried my best to follow the Manager’s instructions!"
Touka gulped.
"Eat?" She took a look at the ‘rabbit’ (to her horror, there were more ‘rabbits’ in the box—looking just as pituful as the one she held in her hand). "What…is this exactly?"
Kaneki lifted a brow. “Candy of course!”
**_"Candy."_ **
"Yeah! I made it for you!"
"You do know…that I am a ghoul and.."
Kaneki cut her off, impatient. “Yes, yes. But these candies are like those sugar cubes I used to put in my coffee. So I know you could eat them.”
"Oh." She looked back at the candy. There was no way around it then. She sighed. "Okay, I’ll eat it."
Kaneki grinned, a little too proud in Touka’s opinion.
"But!"
"What. There’s a but?" Kaneki whined quietly. "What is it?"
"Tell me why you…made this first."
To Touka’s surprise, Kaneki flushed—his cheeks growing a deep, rosy color. Touka’s heart fluttered. She missed that. That soft, lovely expression on his face.
"Well.." He scratched at his cheek. "Well.."
"Spit it out."
Kaneki smiled timidly. “Well, I kind of noticed that whenever we go on dates—” They both flushed at the word. “erm, you stare longingly at pastries and candies so I thought that maybe I could..try and make you some.”
"Oh." Touka smiled. "Okay then." She courageously popped the ‘candy’ in her mouth and chewed.
"…"
She swallowed it.
"How was it?"
"It tasted…well, I don’t know how to explain it really." She smiled slightly. "I don’t know tastes or anything but if I were to describe it…"
"Yes?"
"It probably tasted sweet." She held his hand. "It made me happy, I can’t believe I am saying this but..it made me feel loved and content."
"You are."
"And so are you." Touka kissed his cheek. "Thank you."
In all honesty, it tasted like blood. Just regular human blood. It tasted nothing special. But Touka won’t tell him that. Not while he was too busy smiling at her.
End.
**_Bonus:_ **
_"Hinami, what are you eating?"_
_"Um, candies.."_
_"What?"_
_"Onii-chan gave them to me."_
_"…."_
_"It taste like regular blood though…Touka-onee chan?"_
_"Don’t tell him that, okay, Hinami?"_
_"…."_
_"…."_
_"Okay."_
_"Good girl, come on. Let’s buy you a new book."_
**Author's Note:**
> TOUKEN WEEK: NOVEMBER 03 - 09
> Day 02: Summer/Candy
>
> This is the Candy fic ^^
>
> I'm sorry I didn't know what happened to this ha ha ha~ |
242485cd5c424ec19760617ea8316109 | ['be324ee4733541d9bea83e2e49558a36'] |
The Next Step - Removed Extra
**Author's Note:**
> Much thanks to chanlyeya for editing and empressarcana for keeping me sane. As mentioned in the tags, this was originally a snippet that was in the original fic. For Flow reasons (and ratings) I've removed it, but since the discord now has a sinners fanworks... May as well. Oh yeah, LOOK OVER THERE! I THINK I SEE PRINCESS TUTU... Or is that a crocodile? *runs away*
* * *
Unlike the almost picturesque living room and dining area on the main floor, his own room felt like a contradiction. Papers and clothes randomly strewn around, and yet there was very little defining it. No organized chaos, no sense of whom lived within its walls; it felt more like a place that a person slept in, yet had no indication of who that person was. The bed was still unmade from the earlier night; Isabella’s thoughts froze upon looking at the bed. She could feel the faint trickle of fear as the realization that what could–what _would_ happen in that room, and it made her stomach tighten even as the butterflies rioted. A warm hand caught her fretting one, and her eyes snapped back to Ashton, who merely stood there, slowly reaching for her, as if afraid she would run. His eyes darted to the side, before brushing his fingers across her cheek. With a sigh, she leaned into his touch, her nerves calming a little before he stepped in closer, lips barely brushing against her forehead. Eyes fluttering closed, she moved in closer, feeling his lips trail down her face, leaving a kiss on one eyelid before pulling away, though his arms settled around her. Opening her eyes, she flushed at how close he was. He smiled uneasily, before leaning in again, though pausing right before their lips touched.
“No matter how far we go, if you want to stop, we stop.” He whispered before resuming, tilting her head and sealing his lips over hers. It made her head swim and her senses dim. When the back of her legs hit the bed, she couldn’t smother the sound of surprise as she fell backwards, sinking into the mattress. They both remained where they were for a moment, before an amused chuckle escaped his lips. A pout on her face, she shifted to right herself when the bed dipped again and she found herself caged by his body. His gaze, normally warm, practically smoldered as he just hung there, but after a moment, he didn’t move. Isabella lay there for a moment, before reaching up, imitating him as she stroked his cheek, and time resumed. Carefully lowering himself, their lips met again, but one hand refused to be idle as it moved to slip under the hem of her shirt, fingertips trailing up her stomach.
The feeling of his fingertips ghosting up her stomach made her shiver as he pulled her shirt up, before it bunched up over her chest, his fingers now splayed over her heart. He seemed to pause, noting how fast it was beating, almost fluttering under his hand, as if waiting for her to shove him away. Suddenly he pulled away, startling Isabella, but before she could get her thoughts aligned, she was robbed of all logic as he pulled how own shirt over his head. She should have already known about his physique, after all there was a well-known story of what happened when one gave strong spirits to Ashton, but seeing it without the worry of bills clouding her vision and being in a whole new relationship with him, it left her speechless. Wordlessly, he moved back to her bunched up shirt and pulled it up, her arms automatically lifting to aid him. Drawn back into another kiss, she vaguely realized one of his hands had moved to trail up her spine, carefully tracing every dip and curve of what muscle was there. His hands were quick to make short of the hook of her bra, but as the garment loosened, a wave of self-consciousness crashed upon her.
A hard childhood meant that one’s health often suffered. Isabella had been lucky that all it had done was stunt her growth, instead of some more serious condition, but compared to the rather buxom women he had grown up or dealt with there was a sense of inadequacy. One she didn’t realize she had, until it reared its ugly head. Her arms moved to cover herself, only to have her wrists caught and trapped against the sheets. She squirmed a little, face flushing red, when he moved to kiss her collar bone as he pulled the garment off and tossed it on the floor. | 6d819ba82ddf4c6898dde12331fcfb72 | ['be324ee4733541d9bea83e2e49558a36'] | > This took a lot of time, because it's mostly explanation and exposition... and character descriptions.... mrghph. But at least now I have a lot more wriggle room.
19. Chapter 19
The demigod was a hero and Adrien was a fool to forget that as he found himself knocked flat on his back and onto the couch, only to have the massive cat land heavily on his stomach, expelling all the air from his lungs. Plagg, the prat, merely snickered as the demigod made himself comfortable, slowly walking up toward his face, stopping mere millimeters from it, razor sharp claws being dangerously close to his throat. Nino had passed out a few minutes ago, having been waited out by the both of them and the kwami had all somehow all curled up on the throw pillow, With Tikki and Wayzz hugging two familliar pieces of jewelry close. He could tell Plagg was itching to kick Pollen out of what he assumed was his spot, which being right next to Tikki, but the cat was torn about the aftermath. Tilting his head, the Demigod purred hypnotically.
“Oi, fleabag, don’t you dare do anything to him, or I’ll add it to your retribution tab.” Plagg hissed,only to have a tired red paw pull him down.
“You’ve said that a thousand and 17 mortal lifetimes, either try it or accept that I trounced your furry butt. But I promise not to directly cause any harm to your charge.” Heracules rolled his eyes, only to notice the look of curiosity in Adrien’s eyes.
“Ah, you are aware of my labors? Lets just say the Nemean Lion is the reason why he remains so cute and tiny. Giant indestructible beasts tend to get a lot of attention from the heroes. It’s also how I came to be a King of the cats myself.” He said with ease, before taking advantage of the confusion and pressing a paw firmly into Adrien’s forehead. “Anyways, now sleep, King. Sleep and fall into the land of Morpheus.” What could only be described as a tidal wave of lethargy crashed down upon Adrien and before he could fully put up a defense, succumbed to sleep.
* * *
Up was sideways, down was inverted, and right was quarter circle back as he felt his conscious sink into the darkness. Gritting his teeth, Adrien waited for the world to right itself while the immortal hero looked at him in amusement.
“Keep that up and we’ll be here all night. Gravity doesn’t work here, you need to assert your dominance over the space around you if you want to world to stop spinning.” The cat crooned, giving a passing nod to the other black cat that passed him by. The precursor only gave him a disapproving look before his form shifted into a human one and left the two of them alone, which suited the demigod just fine. Arching his back, he stretched and let himself go, body melting into his perfected self. The boy, because all men were boys to a man his age, seemed to struggle with the idea, which made the demigod groan.
“Man up already!” With a thud, the current Chat Noir landed on his ass and with a groan, stood up.
“So where are we?”
“I think the best way to describe it is her soul, or her heart. Whichever suits your fancy. We tend to just call it a dream even though it’s not really the same.”
It was beautiful. Mythical beasts danced through the branches of the ethereal tree, chasing both beast and fish that flew, while faceless people ran through, laughing and cheering as if nothing was wrong, fading in and out of the shadows as the full moon illuminated everything. In the distance he could see the gardens were filled with more people, making what should of been a cold, wet, dark world feel warm and welcoming. Adrien could see the giant golden nest above, but he knew in his gut that she wasn’t there, where the demigod had hinted she’d be. The faint pulsing of his pinky told him to move past the spectacle of the wonderland and head further into the darkness. For his part, Heracules only gave him a curious look.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To find Marinette.” With a grin the Demigod laughed.
“Can’t fool you, so I’m not going to try. Trust in yourself and find your lady then, I’ll be here to guide you out. Just a word of warning, do not fool yourself into thinking you are lost. Unlike in the waking world, those words have more power then any other force. Find your lady love and believe that you’re walking toward her always.” Giving him a salute, the demigod disappeared, leaving Adrien in the underwater garden, a red string in hand. His attention was ripped to the skies above as he watched massive dragons soar overhead, looping in lazy circles. A crazy idea formed in his mind, and he grinned. Inspiration struck him hard and he found himself eager to start the hunt.
* * *
Felix watched the stars dance in the waves above, a warm body pressed against his back. Years ago, when they first found themselves here, Marinette’s kind heart had called out for him, asking, questioning, wanting to know about who he was. He answered, still believing then that she could not touch his heart or soul, giving her the answers halfheartedly. He presumed she would then lose interest, because who wanted to be compared with someone else? But she didn’t forget and she listened to his tales, his own wishes warping the landscape until he realized what she was doing. She was letting herself open up to getting hurt, because he needed to get out his pain and actually talk, about her or his life before his punishment she didn’t care which, just as long as he talked about it. |
230f9f724d16409f8f6535abd9f43b45 | ['be54d68b1cff4dd881c10ac9969e5712'] |
1. Chapter 1
Pearl’s breath came in harsh pants as her feet pounded on the concrete of the sidewalk. Habanera came through her headphones at a decibel that was probably a little too loud to be completely healthy, but she loved the song a little too much to care.
She slowed to stop at the edge of the small pond that took up the center of the park, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. A glance at her phone made a grin spread across her face. She beat her last time.
Pearl had taken up jogging to combat stress. Jogging had led to sprinting, and sprinting had led to Pearl racing herself across town. Setting and beating her records never failed to put a smile on her face, and going to the lush park so frequently had been a lot more relaxing than she had anticipated.
Pearl ambled over to a bench, pulling a bag of rice out of her pocket before lowering herself gracefully. Right on cue, the ducks wading in the pond paddled over to her. They honked at her, circling the bench like hungry dogs and opening their little beaks.
A giggle slipped past her lips. “Yes, I know you’re all hungry. Please be patient.”
She opened up the bag and began to sprinkle it on the ground. Some of them flapped their wings as they raced towards it. Pearl couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her thin lips as she watched them waddle about.
One of the bushes next to the bench rustled violently, startling her into nearly dropping the whole bag. Pearl relaxed and let out a soft gasp as a few fluffy bodies waddled out and ran towards the adults, but were a bit too small to get through the crowd.
“Aren’t you just the cutest little things.” She murmured, trying not to scare them away.Their little feathers stuck up at odd angles, dead leaves stuck in them. Slowly, Pearl grabbed a handful of rice and crouched down, offering it to the tiny, fluffy ducklings. They waddled over cautiously, their tiny squeaks and chirps threatening to pull a squeal from her lips.
Finally, they stuck their tiny beaks in her hand to scoop out some of the rice. After they cautiously tasted, they seemed to take a liking to it, scrambling over her hand and each other to get some more.
There were three of them. The first, -the one trampling it’s siblings- was a bit small, but it’s downy yellow feathers puffed out to make it almost as big as the others. The second -the one that was perched on her wrist and squeaking loudly- had a couple of dark splotches on it’s back. The third -the one attempting to hoard all the food- was completely brown save for a few yellow stripes on it’s chest.
Ever so gently, she reached down to stroke them with her free hand, prompting a few more chirps and whistles.
A loud ring startled both her and the ducklings. She slipped forward, panic lancing through her chest as she dropped towards the ducklings. With a hysterical squawk, she braced herself with the hand she was using to pet them and flipped onto her back with a small ‘oof!’
Pearl let out a deep sigh of relief, looking tiredly up at the sky for a few moments as the fuzzy bodies crowded around her head. Finally, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and slid her finger across the screen, silencing the alarm. It was time to go home.
“I’m sorry, little ones, but it’s time for me to head home.” She murmured, sitting up and petting their downy feathers one more time. When she finally managed to get up, they clustered around her feet, hopping all over them. “Shouldn’t you be going home too? It’s late for birds, isn’t it?”
Pearl’s head swiveled around on her shoulders, trying to spy where the other ducks had gone. To her concern, they were all clustered in the middle of the pond already, honking at each other. Surely their mother would want to stay close to her children?
She hummed, gazing at the bush they had stumbled out of. That must be where their nest was.
“Alright, let’s get you all to bed.” She said softly, crouching down to pick them up. She held them carefully, making sure not to hurt them as she stepped over and peeked into the bush. Oddly enough, there was no nest.
Her eyebrows knit together. Where in the world could they have come from? Well… she couldn’t just leave them out in the open. She deposited them under the bush, taking a moment to smooth down their fluff.
“Alright, stay here and wait for your mother.” Pearl instructed, giving them a stern look. When she was sure they understood, she slipped her earbuds back into her ears. Her mouth pursed into a tight line when she realized she hadn’t stopped her music when she took a break. It had gone past all of her classical music, ending up on a cheery pop song that she had downloaded last week, and regretted ever since.
She shrugged, turning on her heel and starting home. It was going to be stuck in her head, but she had to admit that it was catchy. The sun was starting to sink under the rolling hills that surrounded the small city. Pearl couldn’t help but gaze at the soft colors painting the sky as she waited at the crosswalk. All of the endorphins were leaking out of her blood slowly, leaving her tired and satisfied.
When the light finally signalled for her to walk, she straightened her posture, but didn’t take a step. There was a small weight on her foot. A frustrated huff left her as she gazed down to see the tiny ducklings milling around her, gazing up with their small black eyes. | 5b7d114c10cc4fee94ce88cae5cbd09d | ['be54d68b1cff4dd881c10ac9969e5712'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Commissioned by Moonwatcher13!
Pearl cracked her tired eyes open at the sound of her alarm. She reached over to turn off the soft song coming from her phone, sitting up with a groan and a massive yawn. Briefly, she thought about laying back down, but there was no chance she’d be to work on time if she did.
She forced herself out of her warm, comfortable bed and got ready for the day.
When she was promoted to chief nursing officer, she had been ecstatic. At least, until she realized that she suddenly had to get up at the crack of dawn to be to work on time. Pearl had grown far too used to the graveyard shift, and the two days they allowed her hadn’t been nearly enough to reset her sleep schedule.
She was halfway out the door before she realized that she still had a bit of time left before she needed to be on her way. That was… irritating. There was just too little time for her to become invested in anything, but too much for her to leave early.
Heaving a quiet sigh, she took her coffee and sat on the big swinging bench next to her front door. It hadn’t seen much use. Pearl had bought it for the sole purpose of filling up her -otherwise barren- porch. She’d never been the type to sit outside when there was work to be done. And there was _ always _ work to be done.
Though, it _ was _ nice, this early in the morning. The world was still silent with sleep and the colors of the sunrise shone dimly across the pavement beyond her front yard.
Pearl enjoyed the view and sipped from her mug lethargically, hoping that the caffeine would kick in soon- only to gasp and choke on it as a whole other view burst into her sight.
A tall woman jogged down the street, pale hair in a bouncing ponytail. Dark umber skin, streaked with pink and shining with sweat in the low light of the morning, shifted over large, powerful muscles as she ran. And _ goodness _ , was there a lot of muscle. Her thighs and stomach were taut and straining against the small black shorts and bright orange sports bra. The sun at her back cut a silhouette that slammed Pearl’s heart into an unsteady stumble, eyes wide and mouth drier than a desert.
Golden eyes caught her staring, but Pearl couldn’t muster the mental power to even try looking away. Slowly, a toothy smile spread across her face. Then, she _ winked _ , and the remainder of Pearl’s thoughts were blasted away, leaving nothing but a burning flush and shaky hands gripping her coffee mug for dear life.
And, as abruptly as she came, she was gone. Jogging down the street and turning the corner. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.
After a few moments, Pearl’s brain slowly booted up her logical thought, leaving her to wonder what the _ hell _ had just happened? With a groan, she buried her burning face in her hands. She couldn’t believe a simple jogger had sent her into such a tizzy and- _ oh, _ there was coffee on her shirt!
She fled inside to change her shirt -and make herself look a little less like a flustered mess, then scraped up the shredded remains of her dignity and rushed off to work.
The next morning was similar, though this time she had the presence of mind not to spill coffee all over herself in a flushed stupor.
It became something of a routine: Sitting outside with a cup of coffee to help her return to the land of the living, The woman jogging by and giving her a smile and a wink, Pearl trying not to turn into a drooling mess.
There were few things Pearl loved more than a good routine. Throughout the week, she found herself rising earlier and earlier, taking more time to sit on her porch. It had nothing to do with the woman, _ of course _ , she just happened to enjoy watching the sunrise.
Saturday brought dark clouds, pouring rain from the time she woke up, to the time she went to bed, and even into Sunday morning. Pearl didn’t think the woman would be out jogging Saturday, but the she was: speeding past with a smirk and a wink that made Pearl’s heart pump a little too fast.
Sunday was different.
It started like every other morning. Pearl sat on her porch waiting -she wouldn’t say eagerly- for the woman to jog by. When she came into view, Pearl had to hold back a fond smile at the cocky grin sent her way. Though, the wink never came. Instead, the woman’s bright orange sneaker squeaked and slipped on the slick concrete of the sidewalk.
Surprise flashed across her face as she fell and Pearl lurched to her feet against her will, eyes wide. But, before she could make her way over -or even call out to her- the woman was up and continuing on her way, a bit faster than usual.
Pearl stared after her, concern knotting in her stomach. It twisted further when she saw the faint red stains on the concrete, already being washed away by the pounding rain.
Pearl had Monday off, but she still woke up early. She took her cup of coffee outside and watched the sun come up over the peaks of roofs. Pearl sat for a long time; until the sun was completely up and her coffee completely gone.
The concern that curled up and made a home in her stomach the day before grew exponentially. The woman hadn’t missed a day yet. Was she alright? It was a nasty fall she took… |
42c64dd1d7174fa580742545066d9286 | ['be64ea6f5be740d7b6226a233015cd5f'] | Kaede pauses and finishes off what must be her fourth brownie since Gonta had started explaining everything. “I honestly don’t know either. Do you think maybe it’s a problem with _ who _ Shuichi is seeing? Like...maybe you have a problem with…?” She doesn’t seem to want to finish her sentence, and she looks a bit worried. When Gonta shrugs helplessly at her, she takes a deep breath and finishes the thought. “Is it possible you might have a problem with Shuichi having boys over _ because _ they’re boys?”
Gonta’s eyes go wide, and he’s terrified that her explanation might actually be the reason behind why he’s been so mean lately. “Gonta...never had problem with that before,” he says weakly, “but maybe…”
Nodding wisely, Kaede moves to stand next to him and offers him a brownie. He takes it, but gives her a confused look. Surely she thinks he’s terrible now, right? “Comfort food,” she explains. “I’m sure you don’t want to be feeling like this. You’re a good person, Gonta.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” he mumbles around a mouthful of brownie, and she sighs.
“You know, Kaito was like this a while back. He’d probably be a good person to talk to about this sort of stuff and how to get over whatever this might be caused by,” Kaede tells him, and she pulls her phone from her pocket. “Do you happen to be free tomorrow?”
*****
Gonta fiddles nervously with the napkin in front of him, glancing up at the door to the coffee shop every so often. It’s not very busy today, but it still feels like he’s the only person alone there. The room is filled with quiet chatter as the waitress comes over for the second time in half an hour to ask if he’s ready to order yet. He politely declines, tells her that he’s waiting for somebody, but he’s starting to think Kaito might never show up.
Fortunately, the bells on the door jingle and in bumbles the astronaut in question, who waves enthusiastically at him. “Hey! Long time, no see!” he calls, and a few heads turn his way with how loud he is. He weaves through a few tables and plops down in the seat across from Gonta. “So, what’s up? Akamatsu said you needed some advice.”
Gonta hesitates, wondering whether he should have just asked Kaede to send what he needed advice on over text. “Ah, y-yeah...Gonta think he might be, um, ho-mo-pho-bic,” he says, trying to sound out the word so he says it the way Kaede had. Seeing the look of confusion and slight surprise on Kaito’s face, he makes to clarify. “N-Not on purpose! Ah, sorry, Gonta not really know how to explain it.”
“Uh, it’s okay, man,” Kaito tells him, still looking just as confused. “I mean, I guess I get why you needed my advice, then.” He chuckles quietly, which is nothing like the boisterous laugh Gonta remembers from their time together at school.
“Kaede said Kaito would know how to help Gonta stop feeling like this,” he adds. “She said you used to have same feelings.”
Kaito looks kind of ashamed, and Gonta feels a bit guilty now at bringing any of this up. Nevertheless, he’s still Kaito, always determined to help, and he nods sharply. “Right. I did, but I’m a better guy now. I mean, it might be different for you, I guess, but I can try my damn hardest to help you get better too,” he declares, slamming his fists together. He pauses, visibly thinking about something. “Well, I guess I should probably know how this shit started for you.”
“R-Right! Um, well, Gonta not notice any problem until Shuichi—”
“Oh! I know what you’re talking about, it was the same for me,” Kaito interrupts. “When he came out to me, I was super weirded out and I had no fuckin’ clue why. I mean, it wasn’t really any of my business who he was dating, right? But the idea of two dudes kissing made me feel real awkward, and I just couldn’t get behind the idea of my sidekick being with a guy. Eventually, though, Maki Roll smacked some sense into me when I told her.”
“What did Maki say?” Gonta asks, hoping that maybe it’ll be what he needs to hear too.
Kaito laughs, and it’s the familiar laugh this time, which makes Gonta slightly relieved. Kaito isn’t angry with him; if anything, he’s being quite sympathetic. “She basically told me to shove it up my ass if I had a problem with that stuff because Shuichi’s my bro,” he says, still chuckling. “Then when I went to apologize to Shuichi, I found out all the problems I had were with myself.”
Gonta’s brow furrows. “With...yourself? How that possible?” he asks, and now he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the same problem.
“I was weirded out ’cuz my brain thought it’d be a good idea to push down how I felt about guys by telling me it was gross,” Kaito tells him bluntly. “But it was hard, y’know? Because I’m dating Maki, and I know I’m not gay, so I had no fuckin’ clue how I could have feelings for her if I was into dudes. Plus, there were tons of girls I thought were cute too.” He pauses as he sees the waitress coming over, as this really doesn’t feel like something they should be sharing with their waitress.
They order two coffees—Kaito also gets a bagel—and their conversation starts up again as she leaves. “Gonta not really sure that’s Gonta’s problem,” he admits, “but how you get over feeling weird, Kaito?” | f5419a067b674c248774041723daebf4 | ['be64ea6f5be740d7b6226a233015cd5f'] |
When My Love Reaches To Me
The grass is soft beneath his feet as he runs—he’d been running for a while, and he doesn’t necessarily want to stop anytime soon. The other children from the village are coming after him, teasing him about crying over one of the older boys crushing a ladybug beneath his foot. He doesn’t think it’s fair, not fair at all; they have so many more advantages, and really, should anyone be hurting something so helpless?
He’s a lot smaller than the rest of the boys, but his mother says he’ll get taller soon, he’s only little, after all. The boys chasing him are well aware of how small he is, too, and they’re not exactly the nicest about it. Why should they? He’s an easy victim, too scared of bothering anyone to tell on them, anyway.
Unfortunately, there’s a rogue tree branch in his path, and he falls, skidding to a stop in the dirt; his momentary panic at how dirty his sleeves are is interrupted by a kind hand offering to help him up. “Are you alright?” someone asks, and he stands, nodding. The boy helping him up looks to be about his age and is even smaller than he is. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay. Can I have your name?”
“Mama says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” he says as he eyes the other boy warily. The boy doesn’t look normal, either. Unnaturally blue hair, ears just a bit too pointy to be human, clothed in a tunic that had gone out of fashion years ago, before he’d been born, probably. “But thank you for your help.”
The boy beams at him, then the smile dampers once the puffiness around his eyes has been noticed. “Why have you run from the village?” he asks gently, a hand settled softly on the other’s shoulder. He feels his face heat up in embarrassment at the question, and he turns away. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“The other children...they were so mean, a-and I couldn’t do anything to help,” he mumbles. He looks back up at the strange boy, hurt and frustrated confusion radiating from his expression. “I wanted to do something, b-but they just laughed at me for getting sad...I just didn’t think it was okay for them to hurt something so little…”
“You felt like you couldn’t help, that you couldn’t protect those that deserved it,” the strange boy says, but it’s not phrased as a question. He nods. “I think I can help with that.” With that, the boy winks and cups his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
He pouts. “That didn’t do anything!” he protests, then he hears branches snapping and he panics. “I-I have to go.”
Without waiting for an answer, he dashes off. He doesn’t notice the boy giggle before disappearing back into the woods. When he gets home, his mother is worried, especially when she sees his dirty sleeves. He cries, not because he’s scared anymore, but because he’s relieved to be home.
*****
_ “You realize it’s dangerous, right?” _
_ “Of course I do. I’m not stupid.” _
_ “You almost had it, you know. Why’d you stop?” _
_ “I felt bad. I wanted to help.” _
_ “That’s not your job.” _
_ “I know.” _
_ “Ouma’s not gonna be very happy with you.” _
_ “I know.” _
*****
The next time he sees the boy, he’s just barely a teenager. He’s much taller now, he towers over most of the adults in the village. He’s bigger now, too, shoulders broad, and he has enough strength that the lumberjacks in town keep jokingly asking him when he’s going to join their team. Though, he doesn’t think he could ever feel fully alright with chopping down trees.
There’s still whispers through his village; neighbors talk about the boy that stopped growing brown hair and keeping it tidy, instead letting it grow dark green and wild. Not that he exactly has a choice on that. It just sort of...happened...one day. He found that he _ couldn’t _ cut it, though not for lack of trying. His hair is just past his shoulder blades now. He usually keeps it up.
All of the gossip had caused his parents to pull him out of schooling for fear he’d grow angry and hurt one of his tormentors. As if he could hurt a fly. He’d much rather not, as a matter of fact—since his hair had grown out, it felt as though lots of helpless creatures had flocked to him, whether it had been an injured rabbit or just a few butterflies coming to rest atop his shoulders. It was pleasant, though his peers had taken to comparing him mockingly to a fairytale princess. He doesn’t mind.
He’s wandered off again, into the forest. He likes spending time here; ironically, he feels much more at home here than he does in his family’s big estate. The trees have grown thicker over the years, as has the brush along the forest floor, but the paths are still familiar. He stumbles over a tree branch, a feeling of deja-vu washing over him as someone catches his arms in their own.
That boy from all those years ago is standing before him, hair now a duller blue, yellow eyes flecked with gold and kindness, a smile curling his lips. “Well, well, well,” he says softly, and his voice sounds like the piano in town square playing during the festival, “I never thought I’d get the chance to see you here again. I’m glad I made sure I would recognize you.”
He stands back up, trying to suppress the chill that runs down his spine. “I think I remember you,” he says uneasily. “Thank you for catching me...again.” The boy merely chuckles, and the sound makes the tips of his ears feel hot. |
500d70be984c423bb85ebedb75b1cb44 | ['be67de71f8974051a7bb02d4e99fad8b'] | "And here I thought you were an artist. If you were, you'd know that red is better!"
"Sideswipe, do you want to die? Because I will more than happily volunteer my services to fragging end you. I'm sure Jen won't mind."
"Oh well that's too bad because if I die, you die." This made me look at Sideswipe in alarm.
"Seriously?" It was Epps who answered.
"Since these two are spark split twins, and they have a sibling bond, if one of them were to go offline then so would the other. It's pretty hard ass shit."
"Wow. Fascinating. So, while these two butt heads like a couple of Pachycephalosaurus', which color should I choose?"
"Pachycepha-what?"
"Choose yellow. Red is more prone to getting speeding tickets than any other color." I did as he told me to and got into the yellow one and drove off to catch up to Epps.
"Well look at that, Sides. She chose _ yellow _ ." You could practically feel the smugness rolling off of him.
"Frag off." Sides growled. Boy, today was just not his day.
We played for a couple more hours until Epps decided to turn in for the night. Something about how it was 11 at night, but I was barely paying attention because Epps had handed the controller over to Sides and he was busy shooting at the yellow car with vigor. With me in it, might I add.
Sunny got another controller, and like that we were all playing Grand Theft Auto. First it was them killing each other and me quietly going about my business destroying helicopters kamikaze style. It escalated to them double teaming me and going overkill by using rocket launchers to use me as target practice. I don't know when I passed out from exhaustion, but the last thing I remember is falling forward and someone catching me and pulling me into their lap. I dreamt of throwing Molotov Cocktails at Ashlynne Parker.
8. Chapter 8
I hate to continue this story with me waking up again, but this is starting with me waking up again. I woke up on the couch I had slept on and found myself still in the rec room. I stretched languidly, and felt a piece of fabric slide off my body. The cloth turned out to be two jackets, red and yellow, that looked oh so familiar. The Twins must've placed them over me while I was sleeping. A soft smile reached my lips as I wrapped them around me tighter and snuggled into the warm and comfortable couch. It was a strange, yet unique smell of ozone and musky testosterone. The moment would not last however, as my stomach rumbled with the need to be fed. God, why are you so needy, body?
I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was only _ 6:54. _ Not breakfast time yet. Shrugging in apathy, I resumed my cuddling with my current resting place. Seriously, this thing was awesome; it was like that velvety soft kind of couch with the plushy armrests. Nevertheless, I should've known by now that I'm never gonna catch a break, so with that knowledge in mind, Katie bounced into the room with a big smile on her face.
"Jenny, get up! I have something great to tell you!" _ God. Damn. It. _
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and propped myself up on my uninjured arm.
"What is so fantastic?" I yawned.
"Get out of bed and I'll show you!" Katie exclaimed while tugging on my arm. I snatched it out of her grasp and put up a finger to silence her, which surprisingly worked.
"Now hold on. You specifically told me that you had something to _ tell _ me. You did not say that I had to get up, nor that movement was needed or required. I am also not in bed, I am on a couch. Please sort out your priorities before you try to speak to me." You could say that I'm a bit on the grumpy side right now, but see, that's what happens when I wake up before 7. Luckily, Katie had been around me long enough to realize it. Unfortunately, there was only one solution.
With a swift and powerful tug, I was now on the hard floor with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's jackets sprawled around my waist. Katie put me into an awkward full nelson, and began to literally drag me out of the room. I didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed as we went past a couple of soldiers that gave us bewildered looks. Eventually, after a fairly impressive bout of upper body strength by Kat, we arrived in the main hangar, where she unceremoniously dumped me on the concrete floor. Love you too, Katie.
"Is the lil' lady alrigh'?"
"Oh hey. Jazz right?"
"That'd be correct. Jenny, right?"
"That is my name, yes." I flailed my legs wildly to detangle the clothing that had slid down, and stood up to look the silver mech face-to-facial plates.
"So how long have you been on Earth?"
"Bout' two years. You?"
"Mmm, 16 years give or take." His smile was infectious and almost seemed like it was meant to fit him.
"Jen!" I looked over to see Katie up on the balcony accompanied by Will. I looked back up to Jazz and asked him to give me a lift. Y'know, cause' stairs are _ such _ a hassle.
"So, what's up?" I question curiously.
"Will thinks he knows a way where we can go back home!" It looked like her face was about to rip into two, she was smiling so widely. The words home echoed around in my head. I had only been away for three days, and yet I missed it. Hell, I even missed the snake that I haven't even named yet. | 6f26593aa1604f198f5a7d5d0440bb34 | ['be67de71f8974051a7bb02d4e99fad8b'] | "If this is a box inside a box, I'll kill you." I threatened with no heat, tearing open the wrapping paper and opening the box. Inside were slips of paper jam packed together. Confused, I tilted the box upside down and let them all fall out. As they spilled to the ground, I realized they weren't paper, but stickers. _ Lots _ of stickers. "Woah. Where did you get all these?"
"I took them out of a sticker book. I thought since Sideswipe causes so much mayhem for others, we might want to get him back one day." She picked up a Strawberry Shortcake sticker. The amount of gratitude that swelled in my heart for having a friend like her was inexpressible.
"You're the absolute best!" I gave her another hug before running up the stairs. "One second, I have yours!" I snatched the gift bag in my closet and ran back downstairs. "I put some thought into this."
"You have thoughts?" Katie snarked, dodging my hand meant to slap her. She removed the tissue paper and squealed. "Oh my goodness, thank you!" It was Coding for Dummies handbook. I guessed she would like to continue learning about computers and coding and hacking when she didn't have the base at her disposal. Looks like I guessed right.
"You're very welcome." I smiled, glad to please. She said hi to my mom before leaving to celebrate Christmas with her own family. I continued to try and make contact with Sides and Sunny, but still nothing. I didn't want to, but I was starting to get worried. I texted Katie asking if she could get in contact with Blue, but she also had my experiences of failure in doing so. All throughout dinner, it was starting to gnaw at me. They usually sent at least a smiley face to ensure me they were still alive. But Blue also wasn't responding. Were they all on a mission together? Maybe communications were down over at Diego Garcia. But that was pretty improbable considering how special that base was and communication was of utmost importance to them. I kept checking my phone and kept getting frustrated when I realized only two minutes had passed from the last time I checked. I could barely eat my way through some delicious ham and green bean casserole.
Mom and I watched Christmas movies for the remainder of the night. Aside from the call from my dad that I didn't want to answer, period, my phone gave no interruptions when I desperately wanted it to. I'll admit it, I was being completely stubborn in refusing to let my dad back into my life. I'll be honest about that. Was I actually going to do anything about it? Results inconclusive. Much later, I was staring at my ceiling trading worried texts with Katie when I got a call from an unknown number. I knew the area code.
"Hello?"
"Hey-"
"What the fuck, guys?! It's fucking Christmas and you go radio silent on me?! Bluestreak too! Do you know how many times I thought you might be dead?"
"Jen, princess, chill. Okay? Listen, communication was banned all day today. Something came up and it was lockdown. No one could know, especially decepticons, so we kept all channels clear of any news until everything was sorted out."
"Oh." Now I felt fucking dumb. I _ knew _ they were doing something important. Why on earth would I be the center of their thoughts when they were fighting a war? God, I'm a dumbass. A dumbass that felt bad, but was relieved they were okay. "What was the thing?"
"Get this, even more arrivals. Looks like Prime's message went pretty fragging far and they just keep rolling in." He sounded excited. But suspiciously excited.
"I feel like you're leaving something out."
"I'm getting to it. So, don't be mad, but I could've called a lot sooner. It's just that one of the new arrivals is an old friend of me and Sunny's. We thought she died like everyone else, but she didn't!" She? The word echoed in my mind. I really needed to hang out with more femmes. I kept forgetting they had feminine cybertronians.
"Oh. Who is she?"
"Our old commander. Ze."
20. Chapter 20
12 AM. It was officially no longer Christmas. I kicked off my covers and slipped on what I liked to call "ninja shoes". The rubber sole had worn off years ago and while they had absolutely no traction whatsoever, they didn't make a sound when I walked. I sneaked downstairs and wrote a note just in case my mom did wake up, which she wouldn't. She was a heavy sleeper and could sleep anywhere. I quietly closed the front door, holding the knob until it matched up with the hinge before releasing it slowly. Not even a click. I was just now realizing I could've been the kind of kid to sneak out if I wanted to.
Katie was already on my front lawn, shivering in our school's hoodie. They weren't really good at winter temperatures, but damn if they were comfortable on the inside. I waddled over and hugged her, huddling like penguins for warmth as we waited impatiently. Snow was great. I loved snow. Who doesn't love the absence of heat slowly infiltrating your sneakers with the attempt to give you pneumonia. Bright headlights turned on our street and stopped in front of my house. "Bluestreak, please tell me you have seat warmers."
The window rolled down, revealing his smiling holoform. "Would I ever be so rude as to make you sit on cold leather?" |
b489631d571f46f1b52ce764878c03bc | ['be750617035e4dae94adde26c9a30b82'] | There is no other way; either we try or go home.
Then awful shrieks come. We are watched; we have to move. If both ways lead to terror and death, is it worth to make a choice?
Soft and quick as shadows, we run to meet our fate-whatever it may be.
21. The Window on the West
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
Trials beneath the trees; tests of the heart in the garden of Gondor.
We fumble side-by-side in the darkness; our motives are obscure. We struggle to sidestep traps and snares. Dark visions have come between us – a grey boat’s passing down the river to the sea. Bright visions rise up before us – a great rush of water; a city of light bejewelled; our noontide. Glimpses of lost glory and lost lore. Temptations in the twilight hour.
The chance is taken. Faith is kept; light and wisdom linger in the West.
Break bread together. Hold fast together. It will be enough.
~Altariel | 71e40071faef4b498d422fee94bad48f | ['be750617035e4dae94adde26c9a30b82'] | Racing and chasing, with valiant pride,
Cornered and crushed the Uruk-hai fall,
Secretly, slowly the little ones crawl,
Creeping and peeping, with hardly a sound,
Until looming and glooming – the trees close around.
Llinos
15. The Departure of Boromir
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at LINK, which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the LINK.
The pain is a thing apart. It can no longer touch me. I have lost the halflings, my honor and myself. What power has the arrow's point to give me pain? See my blood upon it... the blood of Gondor's proudest son…
Do not weep for me, Aragorn. I have failed. Only ruin and darkness await. If you would spare me this defeat, so bitter to a soldier, then do what I could not. Go to Minas Tirith. Give her a kingly head to wear her crown, a sword to win her victory. Thus is Boromir saved!
Farewell. Go swiftly.
By plasticChevy
16. Flotsam and Jetsam
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
Amidst ruin of rock and water the hunters sit with the hunted and hear answers to small riddles.
They hear of whips, filth and stench, of treasures cast away and fetters broken, and of trees that walk.
In the sunshine dark tales are told – of rocks and stone torn and eaten, of rivers re-routed and floods created, of destruction that strode on wooden legs, of shooting jets of flame and of warriors as grim as ice.
They hear, too, of a wizard’s resurrection and his call for help - and of how a worm became a rat in a trap.
By Avon
17. The Riders of Rohan
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There is a prose version of this drabble as well; if you're interested in reading it ,see the LINK thread.
Three hunters seek hobbits in harsh land of hills.
Road marked by riddles, lightly they run on Rohan's grass.
Bright leaf of Lorien leads them on;
The wizard's will wearies their hearts.
A red dawn rises, and Riders they find
with wary welcome for those the Wood has favoured.
Then swift is sword bared, sworn are oaths,
and great-hearted gift of horses by Eomer given.
At Fangorn's fell eaves are fire's ashes,
but no hope of hobbits. Have a care –
Cut no quick wood! Dwimmer-crafty old man
Haunts their fire, horses flee.
Alone, without allies, sleep is all they seek.
\- by Forodwaith
Note: There is a prose version of this drabble as well; if you're interested in reading it ,see the LINK thread.
18. The Taming of Smeagol
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
_Lost._ No way out, no way ahead. The barren rock offers no shelter, no comfort, on a journey to the place where no one wants to go. A bog nearby, the stench is clear. Time is our greatest foe; time gives him strength.
Haunting black beats ride again. Pale eyes follows, though dare not stray too near.
Down a cliff, but pale eyes follow. The creature falls, Sting is unsheathed to threaten him. But mercy was in his hand, and mercy prevails now. _“Do you know the way to Mordor?”_ The creature nods, The Precious keeps him to his word.
by USER
19. Helm's Deep
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
Came the host hastening, the King's men, to Hornburg,
followed close by foes and flame in the night.
Bitter was the battleplay, bold the defenders,
but fell foes were many and warriors too few:
came orcs creeping twice into the culvert;
down came the Deeping Wall by Saruman's devilry.
Théoden King took counsel then in the keep;
Helm's horn once more in the Deep was heard.
Rode forth the Riders with the sun's rising;
death they dealt there to the dread foemen,
but soft! Silence fell at the sight of the forest;
wailing fled the Uruks beneath the waiting trees.
~Leonora
20. The Black Gate is Closed
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "The Two Towers' drabbled - as part of our combined effort at drabbling all of the LOTR. A drabble is an exactly 100 word story and each chapter has to be reduced to this. See
At last we stand before the Enemy’s door- black-boned and bare, guarded day and night, and closed!
Yet, there is another way, darker, secret... dangerous, yes, but His eye can’t see everything at once; his four-fingered hand is elsewhere. He won’t see. He won’t know.
But it’s not empty! |
6ee849c2d0984c908f92c38c85ebd836 | ['be7d13163e45477ead5c355540e93868'] | "STEVEN!" Amethyst shouts, her voice cracking. Her eyes start tearing up but she won't let them overflow as she continues forward, calling his name louder and louder. A noise catches her attention and she spins around.
Standing there, one sleeve ripped off, is Steven. His eyes look dark and hurt, but not like he's been crying, which would be normal for him. He looks slightly angry, but mostly terribly sad. As if someone had killed something inside of him. Her chest becomes tight.
"Hey, buddy. You had us all worried about you-" she begins.
"You shouldn't have worried. Things are going to be okay now. You won't have to deal with me anymore. I..." His eyes begin to tear up, and he wipes viciously at them. "I'm going to leave so you guys can be happy."
"Steven, what are you talking about?" Amethyst asks, her voice scared. She suddenly notices how he's holding his his one arm protectively against his chest. Her bites her lip. "What's wrong with your arm?"
"N-nothing." He shouts, looks around anxiously. "Just, leave me alone!" He takes a step back.
"No. Steven, we care about you. Come here so I can-" but Steven starts running then and Amethyst is cut off. She races after him and rather roughly grabs his arm.
"Aaagh!" He cries, wrenching it back even rougher. Amethyst looks at her hand and stops dead.
Pearl drops in front of him suddenly, blocking his way, and he stops, slowly backing between the two gems. Amethyst stares at her hand, and Pearl says something. She says it louder, and Amethyst looks up.
"What is it?" Pearl asks with an incredibly steady voice, tears running down her cheeks. Amethyst is silent and Steven looks as pale as a sheet. The purple gems hand is covered completely in dark crimson blood. It drips onto the wet sand below quietly and treks down her arm. She finally looks away, shocked, at Steven. He's shaking, standing between the two of them, his eyes full of fear.
"Steven, what is..." Pearl begins, and Steven falls to his knees. Amethyst lunges forward and catches him, holding him by his solders. The boy is now completely out, and she quickly raises his arms, ripping his other sleeve off him. She gasps, and Pearl cries out, falling to her knees a few feet away.
Amethyst uses the sleeves to bandage the deep wounds in his wrists and lifts the boy up, beginning to climb the cliffs side. Pearl shakily follows but falls and sits on the beach, sobbing. Amethyst makes it to the top and runs to the warp, arriving at the house in seconds.
"Sapphire!" She screams, laying Steven down on the couch and rushing to the kitchen. "Where the fuck are those bandages! Sapphire!" She yells again. The blue gem makes her way into the room, looking completely exhausted. Once she sees Steven she puts a hand to her mouth, quickly shakes her head, and then dashed over to assist Amethyst. They find the bandages and get to work on him, binding every cut they can find. There are two that are bleeding horribly that soak through the bandages immediately, and both cuss loudly. Ruby shouts something from the other room.
Once they've bound him up they take him up to his bed, lying him down gently but still in a panic. "What are we going to do?!" Amethyst shouts. Sapphire holds her head in her hands, but no tears fall. She's cried herself out for a very long time.
"There's a slim chance he won't die." She says.
"SLIM?!" Amethyst screams. Pearl warps in, barely standing, and quickly collapses onto the couch. "So you're saying Steven won't make it?"
"No, I'm saying he doesn't want to live." Sapphire states. "If Steven wants to die then there isn't much we can do to stop it from happening eventually." A loud sob comes from Pearl. "However, if he wakes up and we're all here for him, there's a chance he'll improve. He needs help."
Amethyst balls her fists and shuts her eyes for a moment, then breathes out heavily.
"So he can be okay? I'm not going to lose him?" Tears fall fast from her eyes and Sapphire hugs her suddenly.
"Ye-yeah. Steven can get better. He has to remember how much we all love him, and then he can get better." She says. Amethyst calms down, then weakly smiles and joins Pearl to comfort her. After a moment Sapphire returns to Ruby, still anxious, but more at ease now that Steven has been found. He'll wake up tomorrow, and then we can all celebrate him. Together.
"You too, Ruby..." She whispers to her lover, kissing her forehead. "Steven has a big heart. He loves all of us. We just need to help him love himself."
Then things will be alright.
4. Corrupt
It's been three days since the incident. Greg has stayed by Stevens side the whole time, sitting in grief and silence. The house has been dead quiet save for the occasional cry of pain from Ruby. Things are looking grim for the red gem, and none of them can leave to get her water from Rose's fountain in case Steven wakes. Sapphire becomes less and less together everyday, and her disheveled appearance and pulled up hair doesn't help to comfort the others. Pearl's a mess, but she isn't as bad as Sapphire. The blue gem hasn't looked so bad since the war, which is what this is. A war against time and a war against Steven's turmoil.
Amethyst rises from Pearls side, disengaging her hand. She climbs the stairs and checks Stevens wounds. They're doing better, but Amethyst has to be extremely careful not to nudge the scabs. The first time they checked they'd opened a large cut, and it had taken twice as long for it to heal again. | 4c5e45cddcfa40c2abbd3063a5d8b196 | ['be7d13163e45477ead5c355540e93868'] |
Give & Take
**Author's Note:**
> Hey everyone! Here's a super random, out of place ficlet? I had planned to write a huge story about Why Sans Is Himself but this writing style is too draining so. Have the weird intro part of the fic that will never be.
Millions and millions of years ago, long before any life had sparked on the planet, there was magic. Pulsing, deep, rumbling through the dirt and the rock; magic has always been a part of Earth and Earth has been its conductor. Millions and millions of years ago, before a pulse, a beat, had rocked the very ground, a light had begun to form. Not a sun, but by its crescendo there could be no distinction between the two, no. This light was magic taking form.
Magic feels much like electricity. To some it can be heavy, to some light, to some it is as fire and some as air. No magic is alike as no leaf on a tree or no flake of snow. All who possess the power to harness the flow of light and change reflect it differently. So to a rowdy, ambitious child magic may form Green, while one under the influence of guilt and sorrow may be Blue. Along with this the abilities of each magic is different, and the conductivity of each unique and its own burden to bear.
So, millions and millions of years ago, before the spark of life, there was light. And then, there was a being – formed of coursing, pumping, solid magic and not of flesh. A being so pure and so youthful, with the energy of star, and so very, very new on this planet called Earth.
However, with every risk there is not always reward, and with every thing given to one, there is a significant thing taken back as payment. For when one light has the chance to live, a spark can bring about much the opposite...
Not now, but very soon to the present, deep in the caves of the Earth, there is a light. This light is known as the Underground, for lack of a more eloquent name, and this is where the light from ages ago now takes refuge. On the surface lives the spark of life, the Human race, sprinting from life to death and hardly stopping in between to ask for directions despite not knowing where they're going more often than not. Ah, yes, Humanity. To those in Waterfall they may be known as the “Scum of the Earth”. Such banter often rouses laughter to echo through the vast, watery system as locals dig in the dump for treasures.
In this network there are several towns and a capital city. In the early days of exile – for not a single monster would choose to live in the depths away from sunlight and fresh air – the population resided in what is now known as The Ruins. Spiders and homey-types now live in the warm space, away from the bustle of the surrounding world.
Beyond the large door of no entry lays the small, equally cozy yet far colder Snowdin; the first real defense against fallen humans. The accurately-named town is small and frigid, lying on the other side of Snowdin Forest and housing Bunnies and one out of place Flame. After that comes Waterfall, which can be serene or treacherous depending on the weather, and then Hotland, which is always a few degrees above comfortable.
Finally the capital of this make-shift nation: New Home. Perhaps at one time, maybe in an old storybook, that name may have sounded smart and appealing, but times have changed. Here lives the royal family and their vast gardens of buttercup flowers, and soon their newborn son too.
Despite living in exile after the loss of the Human-Monster War centuries ago, many monsters are happy in the Underground. There is food, there is life, and there is plenty of hope, for monsters are not the kind of people who give up. The only thing is they haven't got a single real star to wish on for freedom...
-
In a quaint house in Hotland there lived a happy couple. The wife was a Royal Gardener and personal friend of the Royal Family. The husband was fresh out of college and was the newly-appointed Royal Scientist.
Early in the morning the two are found preforming an odd, yet common ritual among adults of monster decent. For lack of a better term, they were having sex. Such a human word cannot adequately describe this intimate act, and so the description without elaboration is, well, lacking.
Between two or more monsters, there is no such thing as 'casual sex', for when a party knowingly takes part in this activity a light is therefore born. Of two or of many, the act of sharing ones magic with another will weave the web of life for a new being, and therefore bring about a birth. And so, a monster does not take this act so lightly, as it is not so much sex as it is conception. A monster should be fully aware of the give and take of this act, and be of an age that they are mature enough to grasp the gravity of it. Humans do not act with such care, consummating with such reckless abandon as to conceive unknowingly and when unready, and therefore the word 'sex' is not at all what is truly taking place in this home in Hotland at this early hour.
A light touch between souls. A glow, a shine. Magic of purple and gold mix between two skeletons and there is a gasp, a sob, as light grows brighter and a being begins to form. Now, again unlike humans, when a monster is born it is asexually – although equally intimate – and consistent. Species and traits combine into one soul and body, yes, but this is not about appearance but about health and weight. Humans are born different weights and sizes and varying degrees of health, but monsters are born all of the single, same distinguishing trait, and that is the amount of magic present.
Folding and twisting, a small, sleeping skeleton takes shape in his mothers arms. As the light fades there is a small yawn, and two new parents giggle in awe.
“Sans,” the mother whispers. “his name is Sans.” |
1d8b5c7035e04655974862cb01a4a908 | ['be7edcf08954438a9ceff143215d00de'] | Louis pushed the door to open it, but he remembered that Niall had come to lock it. He started messing with the lock, trying to open it but it wouldn't work for him.
"Oh, let me help ya out there," Harry said, coming up behind Louis. He was really close to Louis. Louis had been thinking of what he was going to order for dinner, but now all he could think of was how he could feel Harry's body heat radiating onto his back. Harry opened the door without much effort, but he didn't move back at all. Louis turned around, just as Harry was stepping back, and Louis' elbow crashed into Harry's ribcage.
"Oops.." Louis whispered.
Harry crowded up against Louis, once again. "Hi,"
Louis looked up into Harry's eyes and then down to his lips. He felt Harry inching closer and closer, but he was taking his sweet time. "C'mon, then." Louis said, just before Harry's lips landed on his own. It was the most cliché kiss, because the only things running through Louis' head were things you hear on movies. But he really did feel like he was flying, he was weak in the knees, and he saw stars. He pulled away to catch his breath, resting their foreheads together. They stayed there, breathing in-sync for a few moments.
"Louis?" Harry said, laying kisses on his cheeks.
"Harry?" Louis squeaked.
"Do you wanna do a bunch of fun stuff with me?"
Louis kissed Harry's nose. "Does it involve more of this?"
Harry kissed Louis again on the lips, verging on a full snog, before pulling away with a huge grin, that Louis decided would most definitely be the death of him. "Are you crazy?! Yes!"
-
Louis alarm clock went off at 6:45 on his last day in Saint Louis and he laid there for a second, wondering if catching his flight was even worth it. He was exhausted. The last 3 days had been an absolute whirlwind of work, Yorkshire lattes, and _HarryHarryHarryHarryHarry._ They had gone on lunch dates, dinner dates, and coffee/tea dates. They had driven around in Harry's car, screaming Pink Floyd into the cold October night. They had gone to Target because Harry needed shampoo, and Louis tried to not think of how domestic it was, buying shampoo with a boy he just met 2 days before. When they werent together, they were constantly texting. Louis sent photos of the football games he was scouting and Harry sent photos of Niall covered in flour because Harry had trusted him to make sugar cookies for the cafe, something he wouldn't do again. It was all too much and also not enough. Louis wanted more but he also wants to forget that Harry existed because he didn't know where they were going to stand after he left. He wasn't complaining, not in the least. He was just nervous. Louis was nervous because he knew that he had to get up, shower, pack up, and walk over to Haz Beanz to potentially see Harry for the last time. In his whole life. He was going to board a plane to Denver at 12:05 and leave Harry in this gorgeous city, all by himself. Louis wasn't sure if he was strong enough for it. He replied to Harry's good morning text that was sent 2 hours before, because he'd been up to open the cafe and then got in a warm shower.
Louis dragged his feet all the way to that damn coffee shop, the one that was so cute from the outside, the one he just _had_ to walk into, the one that had Harry inside. Harry, the best and worst thing that ever happened to Louis. His perfect person, if that can even be said after knowing someone for three days. He pushed the door open and walked up the counter, as there wasn't a line this morning.
"Hey, welcome to Haz Beanz!" Harry said, from behind the corner, his back toward Louis. "Oh! Hey, Lou." He said, turning around and coming up to where Louis was standing.
"Good morning," Louis whispered, leaning across the counter to kiss Harry.
Harry smelled like coffee, tea, pastries, and just every good smell that Louis had ever smelled in his whole damn fucking life. And he had to leave this man in a total of four hours.
"Go find us a table, I'll make some drinks."
Louis nodded, pecking Harry's lips once more. He found a table by the window and sat down, fully intending on sulking until Harry sat down with him.
"Alright, here we go. A Yorkshire for you and a vanilla latte for me."
Louis reached out gratefully for his tea. "Thanks."
Harry sat down, sipping on his latte. "You alright, Lou?"
Louis nodded. "I'm just a bit sad to leave, is all."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.
"You don't have to say anything. I'm not expecting anything from you, Harold." Louis smiled. "I had an amazing 3 days with you and now I'm going home. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't absolutely devastated that this has to come to an end."
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Does it have to come to an end though?"
"What?"
"Like, and hear me out, I'm not trying to become some exclusive couple or anything. Not right off the bat, but like what if we tried to keep in touch? I'm sure I could find myself in Denver quite a bit if I knew you were there." Harry grinned, dimples and everything. _This fucking man child._
Louis couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I could probably find a lot of reasons to be back in Saint Louis, as well."
Harry nodded. "Well, you do belong here, Louis in Saint Louis." | 4ff388b5e7984dae82b6d9b75792e5cd | ['be7edcf08954438a9ceff143215d00de'] |
And Don't You Wanna Free Us
**Author's Note:**
> HI! omg look its my first fic! i've been reading larry stylinson fanfic for months now, it's kinda sad how much I read so I decided to try my hand at writing a bit! I started this fic when Harry was on the gay yacht back in january, and if you know what i'm talking about, i feel you. I wanted to get my mind off of it so I wrote like 2 paragraphs on this in my notes on my phone and forgot about it. But i found it again like two weeks ago and now its finished so AH.
>
> I wanna thank my sister, Brittney, for reading this even though she doesn't read fanfic (shocking i know) and for putting up me all the time ha.
>
> also kinda wanna thank Larry for just being Larry but also for making me remember my love for creative writing which i haven't really done since highschool but now i'm into it again so yay for remembering your talents!
>
> Also wanna thank LINK on tumblr for reading this when I only had a tiny bit and encouraging me to continue writing it when i was scared it was shit.
>
> oh and i wanna apolgize because this fic is in dire need of a few smut scenes but as it turns out i cant write it for shit! i can read it 4 times before breakfast but writing it is another story so SORRY about that.
>
> Title is from LINK by Sia which is 100% a Larry song
>
> this is work of fiction, i don't own the characters and none of this happened in real life
>
> okay well i can't think of anything else so yeah, this is self-beta-ed so i apolgize for any mistakes! have fun!
Harry wakes up semi-naturally, not quite used to the constant buoyancy that comes along with being on a yacht. He has a calm 30 seconds of sleep induced ignorance, until he realizes where he is and who he's with.
"Shit." he groans and brings his hands up to rub his eyes.
Once he realizes he won't have the pleasure falling back asleep, he picks up his phone from the side table next to his bed. He huffs out a breath when the screen is brighter than he expected, but goes onto read the messages displayed on his lock screen. Two from Niall and one from Louis.
**How's the sea treatin ya bud ??**
Harry chuckles before reading the next message, which makes his heart jump into his throat.
**Cos it's treatin tommo bad**
Of course it's treating Louis badly, Harry's on a boat in the middle of nowhere with a girl for the one purpose of denying his relationship (his marriage) with Louis. And of course, Louis isn't telling Harry that it's bothering him, just being the sweet and caring husband he always is.
**Miss u babe, don't forget sunscreen x**
_Maybe Niall's just messing with me_ , Harry tries to reason with himself but he knows deep down that even Niall wouldn't joke about something like this. In actuality, Harry shouldn't have to have Niall tell him it's bothering Louis, he should know by now. They've been through enough stunts for it to just be expected, but Harry hadn't been paying attention. After their last live performance on the X-Factor Final, Harry had really detached. Even though the impending break wasn't the boy’s idea, he was going to take full advantage of it. It wasn't until this moment that Harry realized that he had not only detached from his band, but also from his husband.
Harry clicked his phone off without replying to any of the messages and set it down in the bed before rolling into his stomach and shoving his face into the pillows. He let out a jagged scream and decided to force himself back to sleep, just to escape the nightmare that lived outside his unconscious brain.
-
It's five in the morning in Hampstead and Louis is just sliding his key into the door of him and Harry's shared home. It takes some jiggling to get it unlocked and for Louis to get inside due to the fact that he's had way too much to drink and it's still dark outside.
As Louis climbs the stairs to the bathroom, he wonders why nobody came inside to help him get cleaned up and into bed. But then, even in his intoxicated state, he knows exactly why and it sends a shiver down his spine. He feels a lot more sober at that thought. In the recent years, any drinking that Louis had done was done in the company of Harry, alone in their home(s), and usually ended in Harry helping him up the stairs and into bed, either to shag like giggly teenagers or simply to sleep.
But Louis' alone tonight, and as he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, the evidence is right in front of him. His ever prominent cheekbones are becoming even more prominent than normal and his eyes are sunk into his skull in a way that even scares Louis a bit.
Louis doesn't feel like he's looking at himself in the present, he thinks for half a second that he's dreaming and coming face to face with himself from two years ago, the last time Harry stunted. But the dull ache from his head tells him differently.
_You're fine. Harry loves you. Harry married you. It's all fake_ . Louis goes over the same four thoughts that always seem to echo in his brain during times like these, but gives into one snide thought he resents himself for. _Then why does he make it so damn believable?_
After stripping down to his briefs, Louis haphazardly finds his phone stuffed into the back pocket of his discarded jeans. |
66f2bc50537047dba1d97d0835e69b92 | ['be901a6f64494ad6a5833ded6a5d0611'] | "J is equal to N, which is equal to 3 times 6. 18, the answer's 18." Kurt said, annoyed by the teacher.
"Thank you, Kurt." The teacher said. Kurt continued to day dream the rest of class.
2. Two
Kurt headed to the lunchroom with Quinn, and Mercedes. As they walked, Rachel and Puck joined them.
"Oh my god, did you guys see the new kid?" Rachel squealed to Quinn and Mercedes.
"No, why?" Mercedes asked the brunette.
"Because he's is hella cute." Santana said, joining the conversation with Brittany.
"He's a unicorn, too!" Brittany said excitedly. Kurt turned his head in surprise.
"What? He's gay? Like, openly?" Kurt asked, genuinely bewildered.
"No, but by the way he dresses, it's obvious." Santana said as all the glee kids turned into the lunchroom.
Kurt sat down at the table with Artie, Brittany, Santana, Mercedes, Puck, Quinn, Tina, Rachel.
"Satan, can you please stop talking about the new kid?" Kurt asked, getting annoyed by the Latino.
"Why, it's not like he can hear us. Or are you just jealous that we know things about him?" Santana smirked.
"It's just really damn annoying. Ok?" Kurt said, placing both hands on the table. His eyes were turning black with anger.
"Ok, ok. Whatever." Santana said, seeing how mad Kurt was, "Oh, hey Trouty Mouth." She called towards Sam.
"Hey, Santana. Hi, Mercedes." Sam said, sitting next to his girlfriend.
Kurt looked over to the doors to see Finn, Mike, and another member of the football team coming into the cafeteria.
"Hey guys." Finn said. Rachel smiled up at her boyfriend.
Kurt looked up from the table to meet the eyes of an olive skinned boy. He had gorgeous hazel eyes, slicked back hair, tight red jeans, short sleeved black button down, and a red bow tie. Kurt realized he was staring and his mouth was dropped open.
"Kurt?" Tina asked, shaking Kurt's arm slightly.
"Huh? Sorry Tina." Kurt said, blushing. He stole one other glance at the new kid before joining back towards the table's conversation.
"Staring at the new kid, huh? Wanky." Santana said, smirking at the porcelain boy. Kurt blushed an even darker color than he thought possible.
"Shut up Satan." Kurt hissed. He couldn't help but listen to the olive skinned boy's conversation.
'Do you know who that boy is over there?' Blaine asked the girl next to him.
'Kinda, that's Kurt Hummel. He's a part of the glee club of losers.' The girl laughed nasally.
'That's rude.' Blaine snarled at the girl.
"Kurt, we're gonna be late for rehearsal. Come on!" Tina exclaimed at the porcelain boy. Kurt shook his head out of thought and got up.
"Sorry Tina, I got side tracked." Kurt said, looking back at Blaine.
"Ooh, somebody's got a little crush on a human." Tina teased, poking Kurt's arm. He hissed playfully and rolled his eyes.
"Let's just go ok? I don't need to be embarrassed more." Kurt groaned, grabbing his bag and following behind Tina to he choir room.
Kurt sat in his usual seat in the back corner of the choir room. Mr. Schue walked in to the usual chatter of homework, songs, competition, and solos. All talking ceased when an olive skinned boy walked in behind Mr. Schue.
"Ok, everyone, order. This is Blaine Anderson, our newest member of The New Directions. Blaine go take a seat, now Sectionals." Mr. Schue said, writing 'Youth' on the board, "Youth, this year's theme."
"Mr. Schue, I think Finn and I should do a ballad an-" Rachel was cut off my Santana.
"Uh, I think not Hobbit. I've never gotten a solo and I know a lot of us haven't either. So you need to shut your big damn mouth and give other people a solo." She yelled, going into Spanish.
"Ok Santana, quiet. Rachel, you're not getting a solo." Rachel made an audible gasp. "I think the winners of our duet competition should get the ballad. Sam, Quinn, think you guys can handle it?" Mr. Schue asked the two. They both nodded, "And Santana, I think you should sing the solo for Sectionals."
"Hell yes, finally. Auntie Snixx will bring the house down." Santana said.
Kurt learned to not expect much in the area of solos. Rachel always got the solos, so he never bothered to even listen. He looked over and noticed that Blaine was sitting right next to him. Kurt blushed when he realized Blaine was looking at his too.
"Hi, I'm Blaine." He said over Rachel and Santana's yelling.
"Hi." Kurt reached out and shook Blaine's hand, "Kurt Hummel."
"So, how often does this happen?" Blaine asked, signalling to the arguing.
"Oh, that. This is the most calm competition season it's been. Usually Puck, Sam, Mr. Schue, and Finn have to corner Santana." Kurt said, laughing.
"Ah, and why are you not fighting for a solo?" Blaine asked. Kurt looked confused, "I've seen you guys perform at last year's Regional's. I'm from Dalton Academy."
Kurt looked at Blaine for a minute. He couldn't understand why someone so put together would transfer to a school where pencils are used for weapons. Blaine was at an amazing school with an even better glee club, why join the most under appreciated glee club in Ohio? Kurt didn't know how or why Blaine would join the glee club that was given slushie facials everyday.
3. Three
"Not really my thing." Kurt responded to Blaine's question.
"Oh, well at least No one's gotten hurt." Blaine said, trying to ease the mood. Then as if on cue, Rachel screamed in pain.
"Ow! She bit me!" Rachel screamed. Kurt's head snapped to look at Rachel, he smelled her blood and jumped out of his seat and ran over to Puck.
"Puck go to the hall. Now!" Kurt, Tina, and Mr. Schue yelled over all the other voices. Puck sprinted inhumanly fast out of the room and to the bathrooms. | e2d7d055ce964a72af9c9a2a583b38d2 | ['be901a6f64494ad6a5833ded6a5d0611'] |
1. One
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by cindyloowho0105.
_'No, please.' Kurt pleaded as he was backed into a corner._
_'I can't have you running around, teasing me any longer.' David hissed as his elongated teeth grazed Kurt's smooth neck. Kurt shivered in disgust and flinched away, making David more angry._
_'David I told you, get off me.' Kurt pleaded. He felt David's smile play on his lips as his venom dripped from his fang onto Kurt's neck, causing there to be a mark left on his perfect skin._
'You're teasing me again Baby. I told you to not tease me, now I'll have to show you what a bad boy you were.' David whispered into Kurt's ear and bit on the lobe just enough to draw blood. A tear trickled down Kurt's cheek and he stood still, with tear-stained cheeks. _'Why?' Kurt whimpered as David left wet, teeth kisses down his neck. He heard ripping and then his beautiful silk button up was torn down the middle._ _'Because i own you Baby. I can't have you running around without being claimed now can I?'_ _David's filthy hands rubbed Kurt's torso and down his legs. Kurt just stood there and waited until he was done. Just when he thought everything was going to be over, David hissed and pounced on him._ _A sharp pain pulsed through his veins and everything went dark._
Tina Cohen-Chang walked silently through the halls of the Vampire Council's meeting hall. She didn't hesitate as she pushed through the ceiling tall double doors into the thrown room where her father, and the rest of the council was seated. She walked straight up to her father's, Leon Cohen-Chang, seat and looked up at him.
"Have you given my idea any thought father?" Tina questioned, looking him directly in the eyes.
"I have dearest. We have talked to the headmaster at Dalton and they have agreed to allow the young human to enter their halls and dorm there." Leon Cohen-Chang said with a pleased nod. Tina smiled and nodded back to her father.
"I will give the good news to the Hummel-Hudson's right away." Tina said before turning on her heels and walking to the door, but not opening it. She turned back around.
"Thank you, all of you for this opportunity for Kurt and his family. Thank you Sir Jesse Anderson, you will not regret this Sir." Tina bowed gracefully and left the room. She walked through the halls and dialed Burt Hummel's number. She was one a the people Kurt has yet to shut out of his life completely.
The phone rang twice before Burt's gruff voice sounded through the line.
"Hello Tina, how are you honey?" Burt always loved Tina and her family, even if they were high on the vampire royalty chain.
"Hey Mr. Hummel. How's Kurt doing today?" Tina asked politely.
"He's been better. It's getting better every day from your's and the council's help. I can't thank you enough, Kurt actually came down for dinner yesterday and talked to Finn." Burt said gratefully.
"I'll be the house in two minutes with some good news." Tina said before hanging up and running quickly to the Hummel-Hudson household, her raven colored hair whipping behind as she ran through the forest.
She knocked on the door three times before Carole Hudson-Hummel opened it. She smiled stiffly and let Tina in, she was taking Finn's side for the most part in this situation.
Tina ignored Carole and walked straight up the stairs into Kurt's bedroom. She smiled warmly when she stepped inside and found a sleeping Kurt and Burt sitting on a chair by the bed. Burt smiled and stood to give Tina a hug.
"Okay Tina, what did you have to tell me?" Burt questioned the short girl in front of him.
"It's quite good new actually. I talked to the council and they accepted my offer to have Kurt attend a private school in Westerville." Tina smiled at Burt who seemed confused.
"What kind of private school? It sounds expensive." Burt sounded not amused.
"Well, it's an all boys boarding school for vampires. But hear me out here Burt, there is a zero tolerance police against harming humans and we have a group from the royal family there that have agreed to protect him." Tina said convincingly. Burt seemed to be thinking and then he nodded.
"How much is the tuition?" Burt asked.
"The council is paying for it. They feel awful for Kurt and want to repay you and your family for all the harm caused." Tina answered simply.
"Okay. When does he start?"
2. Two
"No. I won't go. That is final dad." Kurt said sternly as he stood in the middle on his room.
"C'mon kiddo. You need to go, you don't have to dorm there. You can come back tonight." Burt reasoned.
"Fine. Bye dad." Kurt groaned as he took his uniform and went into the bathroom.
Kurt got changed quickly and styled his hair to perfection. His heart was racing, he would be trapped with vampire for seven hours without a single human in sight. Kurt's heart was racing as he grabbed his bag and keys as he left the house. He walked to his car a got in, his heart rate only spiking as the engine came to life.
The drive to Dalton, Kurt listened and sang to Lady Gaga to calm his nerves but even then he was flipping out. As he pulled into the parking lot of the enormous school and parked in the farthest spot from any school. As he walked to the building's front door he felt as if he were being followed. Kurt's head whipped behind him to see nothing but as he looked forward again he was met with the gaze of a man in his mid thirties maximum. |
aed0d9274f7441a09308dbc3159f3c58 | ['be9fc4fde04d4fe38d460dc88773c7cd'] | Teresa started, realizing that she had probably said more than she had meant to. She frowned slightly but it flitted away before Newt could comprehend it. She smirked at Newt and flipped her hair back nonchalantly.
“Ah, well who cares. It was history. It is history. This entire ordeal kind of proves my point that humanity is horrible.”
“Well. I could have told you that. Things I've seen. But still, we're not all that bad. Not really.”
“For Thomas's sake, I hope so.”
+++
“I've got dental matches for the two men who threw themselves off of the warehouse,” Aris said the minute Newt answered his cell.
Newt sighed tiredly. Lately, he had been running himself dry. He didn't think he had gone back to his apartment in the past five days, and had been working himself to the ground with less than ten hours of sleep in the past week.
“Well?” Newt asked.
“They're names are Smithson and Wood. They literally have nothing on them. The only thing we can connect them to is Maze, the business that owned the warehouse. I suppose we could try to sue them somehow but I'm not sure how because there is no connection so far with this Maze and the kidnappings.”
“What? They were at the scene of the crime,” Newt was up on his feet, pacing back and forth in his office without even noticing he had started doing so.
“But the murders, I don't know, they've stopped. Literally. I haven't found any booked murder in the past two weeks even close to what we had found in those three days. It's like they've dropped off the face of the Earth.”
“I'll send in Teresa then. She'll know something that could help us with the legal affairs.”
“Alright,” was all Aris could get in before Newt ended the call and started his way to the hospital again.
As he fastened his seatbelt, he had the vague notion that he probably shouldn't be driving because he was half dead on his feet, but that seemed unimportant as he started the sleek and efficient Ford he drove. The hospital was only ten minutes away anyway, Newt thought, shaking his head to clear it, I'll be fine.
The roads in New York were almost always a mess. Pedestrians and venders and vehicles seemed to all forget what lines were as Newt made his way a little further into Manhattan. Once he passed the city college, the traffic was a little less severe, and Newt relaxed. He loved New York, he did. It was so different from his home in Wales where he had grown up for the majority of his life. Accepting the scholarship to Harvard had been the best decision he had made in his life, when he thought about it, but it made him nerve-barracking guilty. He knew running away to America had been his way of facing the worst moment in his life in the most cowardly way possible. And he would forever regret he couldn't done something a little better, a little less harsh. That he could have helped.
“Fuck,” Newt shouted, harshly brought back to the present as he swerved to avoid hitting the man who had wandered onto the street, smiling widely and loosely. He waved cheerfully to Newt as if he hadn't nearly killed him and continued to waddle away. Newt laughed to himself a little sardonically, and shook his head as his heart calmed down a bit. Gotta love New York.
+++
Newt reached the hospital a little later, with no incidents following. He knocked on Thomas's door, and this time, Minho opened it for him.
“Newtie,” Minho exclaimed, “glad you could join the party. Thomas was just telling this great joke. Oh wait, he's in a coma. I meant I was telling a great joke.”
“Can you really be this insensitive?” Newt frowned, disapprovingly. Minho grinned.
“It's alright,” Teresa reassured him. She gave him a wide grin, laughter sparkling in her eyes. She looked much better now. Her hair had obviously been washed, she looked a little rested, and was wearing a fresh set of clothes from the one she had been wearing all week the last time he visited her. Newt mentally noted thanking Minho in making sure that Teresa kept herself alive and that she was safe.
“So how are you?” Newt asked. Teresa knew by now that he meant both her and her brother.
“I'm fine. Minho had offered to watch over Thomas while I went to the hotel to freshen up. Thomas, well, there hasn't been any progress that they know of at the moment,” she sighed, rubbing her arm. Newt felt sorry for her, realizing the amount of pain she had been going through.
“I've actually got a favor to ask. I was wondering if you could pull up a case and possibly a lawsuit against Maze on the kidnappings from the evidence we have. All the files are with Aris down at the office.”
“I would, anything, really, but who would watched Thomas?”
Newt had the urge to say that there was little to watch but he kept it down and bit his tongue.
“I'll stay,” Newt offered before he knew what he was saying. Teresa and Minho blinked, looking surprised.
“You don't have to,” Teresa tried but Newt made up his mind.
“No, no, it's fine, really, you two go down the station. Start pulling some evidence on the file and pull together a case. We're going to need it with this new information about Smithson and Wood.
They hesitated but nodded, turning to leave. Newt waited for them to completely walk out of his view before he sighed and turned to Thomas.
“So,” he tried, awkwardly rubbing his palms on his pants. “how you doing?”
Newt blinked, and then groaned. What does one do when in a room alone with a comatose patient? Jesus, how did Teresa deal with this for almost a whole week? | d5920090e4cf434f954b2dc299393693 | ['be9fc4fde04d4fe38d460dc88773c7cd'] | Ben took a deep breath. He looked as exhausted as Newt felt and his eyes were bloodshot from staring at the compute scene for so long.
“They're all very successful. High intelligence, all with at least with Masters degrees. They're all in their twenties, got far in life very young. Both female and male, all in excellent health condition, according to their medical records. The perfect test subjects.”
“I've been trying to find any other possible victims to be in lower Manhattan that are currently in the city but,” Aris laughed dryly, “to be completely honest, the closest I've got is you, Newt.”
Newt barely comprehended what Aris said, just key pieces of information that passed the ever ticking clock in his head that was telling him he was farther and farther from finding Thomas Greene.
“About that warehouse and music store,” Newt said instead, “pull up everything you can get on the them.”
Ben typed in a few commands into his keyboard and multiple databases popped up.
“The music store is family-owned. Founded in 1965. The current owner is the granddaughter of the founder apparantly, her name is Emma Joel. All her records are clean, she has a marriage record since 2009 and has a bachelor's in business. Everything about her and the store checks out, health inspections, taxes, everything.”
“The warehouse?”
Ben moved a couple of windows.
“Not as much on the warehouse. Technically everything checks out about it. Uh, nothing is necessarily illegal, nothing that catches attention, inspections-”
“Name?”
Ben looked up at Newt. “What?”
“Name, who owns the warehouse?”
“Um,” Ben paused, “a company or something. It's some sort of storage unit for Medical and Zetetic Establishment.”
Newt blinked and his heart skipped a beat. _ It was almost too easy. _
“Maze, that's Maze,” Aris mumbled, as shocked as Newt.
“We got them?” Ben asked, relaxing into his chair. “That's it?”
“That's it,” Newt murmured, though a warning bell told him it was far from over. Maze was much more elaborate than that. They had much more in plan, they wouldn't let themselves be compromised so quickly It was as if they were wanting us to find them, Newt thought uneasily.
“So what do we do now?” Sonya asked. Others around them had also tuned into the conversation, patiently awaiting the detective's decision. Newt breathed out heavily and rubbed his temple.
“Storm the garage,” he finally said, “maybe, maybe we can catch them at something, whatever it is. We have to do something, we've got to make a move, we're running out of time.”
“Sir,” Winston said nervously, “are you sure? If you're wrong-”
“Yes Winston. I'm perfectly aware of what happens if I'm wrong. Tell Minho to prepare the SWAT team. I'm going with them.”
Newt ignored the way Aris' eyes slipped to his limp and then back up at him.
“Newt-” he started.
“Don't,” he interrupted, giving him a disapproving glare, “I'm going.”
He turned and stalked away, out the door to find Minho. He instead met Alby on his way and from the look on his face, he knew he was going to get it.
“I hear you're going with the SWAT raid,” Alby said, straight to the chase, “why the fuck.”
“Something's up Alby, something's wrong. I need to be there, I need to figure out what Maze's next move is going to be,” Newt replied, his mind lost. He knew what Alby was talking about and Newt was going to stubbornly ignore the topic for as long as possible.
“If something's wrong, isn't it better if you stay here?” Alby asked. He had to dodge a passerby going the opposite direction as them.
“Why?” Newt finally snapped, turning to face him abruptly, daring Alby to challenge him.
“You know why,” Alby stared him down calmly.
“Right, it's because Newt has a fucking limp. Newt can't run right anymore. Newt can't pass his stupid field examination anymore. So obviously, Newt's now useless. Better keep him locked up safe in the police station where he can't cause any trouble,” he hissed, finally livid. “Agent Smith, I am your superior on this case. I have never pulled the rank card, because I respect you and the rest of the team and consider you all my equals. But if you keep me one second longer from doing my job the way I need to do it, I will get you forced back into a desk job.”
Newt left Alby with his back up tall and walking just so his limp was barely noticeable, clenching through the pain it caused him.
He stopped by the weaponry they had the station and put on an FBI vest and reloaded his handgun that he kept in his jacket. When he found Minho, he nodded at the agent and slipped into the car with him. Minho didn't say anything, he rarely ever did before a raid and he wasn't as stupid as to call out Newt on his choices, just clicked on the siren and sped out the of station's parking lot. Towards the warehouse.
Towards, Newt thought apprehensively, Maze's trap.
+++
6. Chapter 6
Thomas coughed when he woke up. He coughed horribly, his mouth and throat dry from who knows how long deprivation of water.
He blinked, trying to take in his surroundings. Am I dead? He thought weakly, is this heaven? I mean, I deserve heaven, don't I?
He felt surprisingly fine, considering-
_She pressed a few buttons and the contraption began to move above him. Thomas watched it get closer and closer with anxiety as his heart rate rose and his breathing became heavier._
Thomas gasped and bolted up into a sitting position in a flash of adrenaline, regretting it a millisecond later as the blood rushed from his brain, down. He waited for the dark from his eyes to fade away and looked around. He definitely wasn't in the laboratory anymore. And, after taking his pulse, he was definitely still alive. |
ababeefae15a4094a232238fab38ad83 | ['bea0cd02512e44f2aaf58d7c019dbae0'] | The Heart of Evil
**Author's Note:**
> This is a Matt/Reader story based on an animated short film called The Colors of Evil, available on YouTube. Altough I won't be using any original characters from that story, I roughly based my plot around it so I thought it would be nice to give credits. Please, go check it out and leave a like! Support small artists! It's an adorable animation!
> I hope you all enjoy this story! And of course, constructive criticism and overall comments are always appreciated!
Since you were a child, you wanted to make your parents proud. The only things on your mind for years were: get good grades, get through school, go to a good college, get a great job and be successful for life so you could repay them by all those years of hard work for you. Easier said than done. After suffering with cruel teachers, snobby classmates, and nights without sleeping, you got through college. When you got a job at an amazing company, you thought you could handle anything. You were mistaken. But after your parents giving up a fancy anniversary dinner to buy you an outfit to the job interview and nights you cried because thinking about failure was just too overwhelming, you owed that job to your parents and to yourself. So you kept pushing.
And now here you were, so close to getting an amazing position. But being the evil bastard he was, your boss just couldn’t decide between you and another three of your coworkers, and when you discovered who they were, you knew you were done for.
-
“How can you be so sure you’re not getting that promotion?”, your friend Mel asked you on the phone while you got ready to relax at home after yet another hellish week of your boss’ indecision.
“Karen’s mother runs a branch of the company on another state, his family and Dylan’s family are from the same country club and Lucas looks like a model and laughs at all his jokes. He’s also rich as fuck”, you say, sighing.
“And? Come on, you’re awesome and super smart! You’ve been through so much stuff, this will be a walk in the park for you”, she says, making you smile a little. But still, you weren’t so sure if your best was enough. But still, you were polite. “Thanks”.
“Oh, wait! Ugh, hubby emergency! Can I call you later?”, she says as you pour yourself a glass of wine. “Sure thing! Go save the world!”
-
She calls you three hours and a bottle of wine later.
“Hi! Sorry about keeping you waiting. Now we can chat, what’s on your mind?”, she says.
“Do you know how much I fucking worked for this? Just because they’re rich and smell good one of them will take my job!”, you groan, coughing and gulping down what’s left of the bottle.
“Y/N, are you drunk?”, your friend sighs. She’s seen this one too many times.
“A little bit”, you say. “Come on, I’ve sleeping two hours per night, I DESERVE to be drunk!”, you say dramatically.
“Do you need to talk?”
“THEY DON’T EVEN MOVE A FINGER! THEY JUST SHOVE THEIR PAPERS INTO THE INTERNS’ ARMS AND GO ON FANCY LUNCHES AND HAPPY HOURS AND BOAT RIDES!”, you exclaim. “AND I… If I get this, I’m practically set. I worked so hard! I’d sell my soul for this…”, you say, your voice low and slurred and you’re almost crying with frustration. You deserve it, goddamn it!
Your friend chuckles. “Ok, Y/N, get yourself to bed. I’ll talk to you during your hangover”.
“Alright. Bye”, you say before hanging up. Suddenly you don’t feel so sleepy anymore, and decides to open another bottle of wine, your words still echoing in your head. “I’d sell my soul for this…”
**Author's Note:**
> Kind of a short chapter just to kickstart things off. This may or may not be based off of what I look and sound like drunk. Minus the selling souls part. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. See y'all soon! ♡ | 39a5b52a03d44425b8e60172fd68a051 | ['bea0cd02512e44f2aaf58d7c019dbae0'] | \------------------------------------------
"Sunshine? Are you up?", whispered Luke, slowly opening Rey's door.
"GOT YOU, DADDY!", said Rey, jumping on his neck and giggling loudly.
"Good morning! You sure got me, Rey of Sunshine!", said Luke while giving Rey a piggy back ride down the stairs. "You want waffles?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Then I'm going to have to make some!", said Luke, heading to the kitchen with Rey still on his back.
After the waffles were served and they were both eating in comfortable silence, Luke spoke.
"Rey... So... Me and Leia have been talking and we decided that we are going to send you and Kylo to stay with an old friend of ours during the summer". Rey immediatly dropped her fork and started to fill Luke with questions and complains.
"But I'm going to miss you! Who's the friend? I don't want to spend my summer with Kylo! Where to? Don't send me, please!". Luke only sighed.
"Don't worry, you know the friend, you just don't remember. It's your uncle Han"
"Uncle Han?"
"Yes, Kylo's father. He saw you when you were a little baby... When you were crying, he used to tell you stories about his adventures to calm you down and it always worked. If you feel homesick, ask him to tell you a story, and you will feel better soon, okay? Trust me.", said Luke, with his hand around Rey's shoulder, looking down to her.
"Ok, dad... But I don't want to spend my summer with Kylo! He's annoying!"
"Well, that's the point. Me and Leia are sending you two because you must be friends. We are family, we must unite. Would you try to be a little gentler with Kylo for a while for me?"
"Yes, dad"
"Let's eat then."
\------------------------------------------
But one question still lingered in the mind of the children, and, though none of the four knew, Kylo and Rey asked said question, at the same time as if it was reaharsed.
"When are we going?"
3. Welcome to Gravity Falls
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The children arrive at Gravity Falls
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, my finals are over! So I'll continue that post-it-as-I-write line... also, quick explanation: i'm not offering descriptions for Leia, Luke and Han because Idk what age you want to imagine them with... so... yeah... also this chapter is not my best so... try to enjoy, okay? don't be mean...
The following week, the Leia and Luke and Kylo and Rey were in the car on the way to Gravity Falls. Altough Kylo and Rey usually fought in all of the road trips in family they have ever done, today he was awfully quiet, contaminating the atmosphere in the car with his apprehension.
"Sweetie, are you okay?", Leia asked even if she already knew the answer and the reason why Kylo was so nervous.
"Yeah, mom."
On the other hand, Rey was as happy as she could be. After receiving the news that she and Kylo would travel together, she got sad and nervous, for being in a strange place without Luke, but as the time passed, she got less attached to the idea of being away with Kylo and more interested in an adventure.
"I bet it's pretty cool there, Kylo.", she said. Even with Kylo being mean to her, she would be nice with him for Luke.
"Hm", he said. He was trying to be nicer with Rey too, because of Leia. But he didn't know if Leia would give him enough strenght to keep his chin up while talking to Han.
\------------------------------------------
After sometime of road trip, some snacks and naps and Leia and Luke switching places to drive three times, they arrived. Kylo wanted to vomit as he got out of the car to stand next to Rey, who was almost bouncing with excitement, trying to make small talk to him.
"It will be so fun!"
"I can't wait!"
"I hope Han is nice", she said, only to stop smiling and look at Kylo with wide eyes after realizing what she had said.
"Sorry", she mumbled. Kylo didn't respond.
After Luke had finished taking the kids' baggage off the car, Leia went to cover every bit of skin that there was visible on the children with sunscreen.
"Never forget sunscreen, it might save your life one day, you know..."
That was when there was a voice with a playful tone that made Luke and Leia smile, and Rey's lips twitch upwards, while furrowing her brows at the strangeness of it. But it chilled Kylo to the bone.
"Hey, kids!", Han said.
Kylo really wanted to run into the woods surrounding them, but when he looked at his mother's eyes, the way she looked at him... He knew he had to do it... He turned around and looked at Han, and while Han's smile never faltered, he was a little surprised when he stepped forward to ruffle Kylo's hair.
"You grew up, kid..."
"Thanks, I guess..."
Leia wanted to cry with relief, Kylo's response was better than she would've imagined it after the eye contact a few moments before. She only hoped that it continued all summer long...
Han turned to Rey.
"Hey, Rey! You've grown up too!"
"Hi, Uncle Han!"
After the children said their last goodbyes to Luke and Leia, they turned to Han, that still hold the same smile in his face.
"Welcome to Gravity Falls, and to the Millennium Falcon!".
As the kids went to take their smaller bags and stood there waiting to be guided inside when Han turned to the shop and yelled.
"CHEWIE!!!"
"Chewie?", the name sounded familiar to Kylo... Probably another family friend. The children weren't expecting to see the tallest man come out of the shack, and they had to look up to see his face. Although he was big and buff with rough features, a beard and long hair tied into a ponytail, his face transmited kindness, and the children felt more at ease. |
40661cb39b3142d28e07b867b63cef82 | ['bebc939ef2e8402fad15edff21474844'] | “I've been trying to determine the reasons why some objects cannot be enchanted while others can, you know, and apparently it has something to do with the inner structure of the subject, which sometimes is in complete opposition to the structure of the spell. One has to take into account that both spell and subject have to be at least similar in essence to properly work together. Look, I'll draw an exemple here...”
Fifteen minutes later, Jeanne had her head buzzing with magical theory, arithmancy, and something Morgane had called “fizzics” and “kemikals” which apparently were Muggle disciplines which described how things behaved. The long and thorough explanation had been interesting, but she couldn't say she wasn't happy when her sister finally said that she wouldn't go further into details, since she still had some things to clarify.
Morgane went back to her armchair and took her now cold coffee back; while she heated it again with a snap, Jeanne took out the tickets she had carried all day.
“Morgane, you still enjoy Quidditch?”
“Why of course!” she cried, spilling some coffee. Jeanne smiled; her sister had been a Chaser after all, and she was even more a Quidditch fan than her.
“Well, I've made myself a friend who has some connections and... I _may_ have two tickets for the European League final tonight. But of course I would understand if you preferred to conduct your researches...”
“Oh _come on_! You know perfectly well it's been ages since I last went to a match! Who got you those tickets? It's sold out since April!”
Jeanne's smile widened. She knew Morgane would have reacted that way, and she took a mischievous pleasure in anticipating her future response.
“Well, I've met Mr Potter, Harry Potter, you see. He's quite nice actually, and so is his wife, Ginny Weasley, I'm not sure if you know her?” The look of bewilderment on Morgane's face was priceless; of course she would know Mrs Weasley's name, since the former Chaser had been the best scorer for her team on her second year. “Nevermind, they sent me those. So if you want to come with me, just say yes.”
Morgane almost screamed her approbation and embraced her sister in a bone-crushing hug. When she finally let her go, Jeanne took some time to get her breath back, all while her sister was preparing her satchel and her coat.
“Morgane?”
“Hmm?” she answered absentmindedly, all while looking for her shoes.
“I understand you're eager to come”, the former Auror said, failing at hiding her amusement, “but I _think_ you may have to put on some clothes.” | 4c3e4b2ffe2e4ed68ffdbf3b9d2f2d07 | ['bebc939ef2e8402fad15edff21474844'] | Jorilaf handed him a dozen of forms that Solialin quickly read. Two invocations that had gone astray, one Fireball that didn't burn, and nine people having used all of their magicka. All in all, a fair day to begin.
“Well, seems like it's business as usual. What did you do for the invocations?”
“I told them to dispel them before retrying, and apparently that did the trick...”
“Good. You know everything you need to survive here.”
Solialin was quite surprised. Jorilaf had stood his own, and actually seemed rather talented. Another reason to free this poor unfortunate soul from this torture.
“But... You can't be serious! You mean that's all you're doing all day?”
“Yes.”
“But...”
“Listen, Jorilaf. Almost every magic user has never been to the Academy, much less followed a lesson from a proper teacher. Yet they are sure they can cast as if they were the Archmage or something. Last week I had a call from someone who wanted help on some kind of shouts, that were apparently powerful enough to throw people backwards, but that left a sore throat for some time. I tried to explain it was not our problem, but this Skeever told me that since it had a magical effect, then I should be able to help... Took me an hour before Thick-Head Number One accepted to go ask the Greybeards, complaining about the 'long trip through the mountain' or whatever. And you know what? At least the call was about something vaguely magical. I've had much worse.”
The Nord was looking at him with complete disbelief. Jorilaf would have felt sorry for him, if only his last calls hadn't torn his mercy to shreds. He was tired, his voice broke every few words, his right hand hurt, and he only wanted to have some drinks at the Tavern and perhaps have a long, sweet talk with the waitress. In a fit of weakness and sadism, he grabbed his satchel and turned to the intern.
“You'll turn down the MAC before leaving, right?”
“The...”
“Right. The Magical Assistance Communication. The stuff that connects our PC to the poor people out there. It's easy, just dispel this ward here, and disable this rune here. The light should turn red. And before leaving, please extinguish the candles.”
Solialin delighted himself in the Nord's face, which had turned a delicate shade of pale green. For the first time in over ten years, he wouldn't have to worry about closing the door behind him. Perhaps this whole “intern” thing would be a good idea after all.
* * *
“Jorilaf. By the Nine. What. Have. You. Done.”
“I... Well, I...”
Solialin had felt a twinge of guilt when he had woken up, thinking of the poor Nord having to dispel all the complex spells allowing their activity. But this spark of empathy had quickly been tied to an anchor of disappointment, and thrown from the ship of disbelief to be drowned in an ocean of bitterness.
“Why did you disable those runes?”
“I... I hadn't seen clearly which one you were pointing, so when I dispelled the ward I figured it would be better if I just disabled them all...”
“You figured.”
“But it can't be that bad!” Jorilaf cried with increasing despair. We just have to enable the runes back...”
“Well actually no”, Solialin answered in a cold tone. “You see, my young intern, the three runes you disabled yesterday were the core of the whole ward. And now we're in for a world of horror.”
“What do you mean?”
Solialin breathed deeply before answering. The boy didn't know. He would give him another chance before slamming him head first into his desk.
“Do you have any idea how the PC work? No of course not, silly question. There are small atronachs that we have tamed years ago that are summoned by the customers. Those atronachs have a special bond with the pools; you may have heard of the TCP?”
“Yes!” Jorilaf answered with relief. “The Tiny Creature Pools.”
“Precisely. Well you've broken our TCP. And now the atronachs, who can't come to us anymore since you broke it all, are going to the nearest pool they can find, which is...”
“The Archmage's”, Jorilaf said with horror. Solialin nodded.
“Now can you imagine his reaction when he'll have to check all the calls he'll be getting?”
Jorilaf's face would have been funny to look at if the situation wasn't so bad.
“I think you did an acceptable impression of his reaction. Then you'll have the privilege to go to his office and catch all the calls that we should be receiving.”
That seemed to wake Jorilaf up from his shock.
“But what if he asks me what am I doing here?”
“The Archmage is, luckily, away for the week. So sneak in his office, and answer the calls. Only those for us. Use a Redirecting ward. You know how to... Good”, he said when Jorilaf nodded. “Then go. I'll try to re-enable the runes and re-cast the wards.”
Jorilaf ran out of the office while Solialin turned to the wall of magic. He had been the one to cast all the spells years ago, but he hadn't taken any notes. The day promised to be a long one.
* * *
Jorilaf was amazed by the obliviousness people could display sometimes. He was running half-crouched through the corridors, sometimes in plain sight, but no one seemed to spot him. Only Urag gro-Shub seemed to realize someone was there, but in a mere handful of seconds he dismissed the idea, allowing Jorilaf to run to the Archmage's Quarters.
The Quarters were quite cosy, with a nice private garden in the middle of the room. He quickly spotted the pool in an alcove and ran to it, just in time to see a call waiting to be answered. In his panic, he passed his hand over the pool, trying to defuse the situation.
“Hello? Hello?” |
651c78b53b804c34906488ee89a4e2c8 | ['bf13f0124d264908962ff9c72d277692'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Merry Christmas folks! Hope you'll enoy this short smutty story. Let me know if you did ^w^
Spring began, the snow melted down and life has returned to the homestead. Not that it ever left, if you asked Haytham. He'd been feeling more than a little alive ever since that one snowy night spent in Y/N's home. The girl had so much energy, he was sure she'd be the death of him one day. Not that he opposed. However, she did make him feel very young again and full of energy. Connor found out about their relationship... In a way he wouldn't have expected. Y/N was preparing dinner in the homestead for once, Haytham came in and things got a bit heated. The last thing Connor expected to see was his father having his friend bent over a table, doing... this, despite knowing how much time they spend with each other. Haytham was embarassed, quickly pulling his trousers up, while Y/N only chuckled as she made herself presentable again, in a smaller hurry. Both Haytham and Y/N then had a little talk with Connor. He'd ask Y/N if this was really what she wanted and when she expressed her yes, he'd warn Haytham that if he ever hurt her, there'd be hell to pay. Things got calmer after that, yet Connor would still seem very uncomfortable at the sight of them sharing affection, be it only a kiss. Haytham loved her. He was sure of it now. When he began to notice her, he thought of it as some kind of infatuation in his old brain, but every kiss, touch, talk brought him to realization that he didn't want to be without her anymore.
As he suspected, it didn't take long before signs of Templar activity began floating in again. He expected nothing less - it was an endless war, after all. He wished he could be more of a help, but the people leading the order now he did not know. What he knew, he shared with Connor and Achilles long ago, the feeling of sickness caused by betraying everything he ever stood for vanished shortly after. He was a free man now and he rather enjoyed it. Haytham explained a lot to Connor and it seemed like the Assassin brotherhood gained much more purpose and much bigger chance to succeed, whatever their goal.
Haytham wouldn't dwell on his son's mistakes or his naivety anymore - God knows after all that happened, it would be much too cruel and he wasn't completely heartless. They'd still argue, of course, they were much too different not to. However, there never were any hard feelings and when Y/N was present during their fight, it would usually get her trying to hold her giggling. Mischievous little fox, the girl. He knew Connor liked to argue too, it was their own way to blow out some steam, it was also kind of bonding in a way. Kenways, what a family.
He'd visit Ollie and buy some wine. Wine from the homestead could easily compete against the fine, expensive beverages he drank on those exclusive banquets he used to visit. Later, he'd go around and collect some flowers - it was quite early into the spring, yet it seemed the nature couldn't be bothered as it offered an armful of colorful blooms, cool and fresh. It'd be a nice surprise for his mistress. And it was, he was immediately greeted with a wide grin and a happy kiss. She'd put the flowers into a vase and he went to open the bottle of wine he bought earlier. But, as it seemed, Y/N got different ideas. Her hands would find their way around Haytham's torso. He eased into the embrace and went to turn around to face her. However, Y/N's hands quickly slid into his briefs and she'd start teasing his quickly hardening shaft.
He moaned and instantly bit his lip in shame. "Don't you worry. I love your singing voice." Not caring anymore, Haytham moaned again, as Y/N's fingertip started drawing circles around his pisshole and openly gasped when a lone nail found its way into it. She pumped him a few times, before he was turned around. He felt a bit dizzy and leaned against the table as Y/N knelt before him, pushing his trousers and briefs down to his knees. She flattened her tongue and licked at the underside of him. His hand flew to her locks and entwined with them, gently. When he felt himself being enveloped in a wet heat, his head fell back and he moaned again, loud. Y/N giggled around him and the vibrations from it made Haytham's knees weak. She tried to swallow him whole, but was unsuccessful. After a few tries, which were followed by mild gagging, he cupped her cheek, his eyes glassy and dark. He almost didn't recognise his own voice, as he spoke: "It's- ah damn it, it's alright. You don't have to-" he was cut short by Y/N, who attempted to take him into her mouth whole again, this time successful. She felt dark hair tickling her nose as she sucked and swallow.
Haytham wasn't sure he could hold on any further, he was turned into moaning mess and his self control was running short. Just like that, she removed her mouth and he yelped at the loss of contact. "Hm. Is there something you wish, master Kenway?" He swore under his breath and then, in a shaky voice he spoke: "Please... Please, Y/N, please... " She smiled and sucked him in again, grabbing his hips and moving them in time with her head bobbing. He took the hint and started thrusting into her mouth, the hold of her head growing firmer. He was literally fucking her mouth now and she let him, one hand kneading his bollocks. Now moaning herself, she rubbed at the wet spot on her trousers with her other hand. After an especially hard thrust, Haytham spilled into her mouth, moaning, almost screaming her name. His eyes were shut and his knees were trembling.
Y/N swallowed everything without much difficulty, but a few stray drops escaped the corners of her mouth. She went to wipe them away, but was quickly pulled up from the ground and forcefully kissed. Haytham sucked his juices off her lips and sat on the table, pulling Y/N on top of him. He began sucking on her neck, not caring about the marks which would be impossible to hide later. Despite his age, he felt himself going hard again from the sounds she made. He helped her out of her trousers and she climbed onto him again, sinking his half-hard, wet and still sensitive cock into her soaked folds. The rhythm was brutal, he could see and feel just how horny his mistress was by now. He was almost sure the pace she set for herself was painful for her, but she didn't seem bothered as she started spasming around him very soon. As his fingers started playing at the special little button, it became too much for her and with a moan, she collapsed. He grabbed her hips and thrusted into her a few more times before he joined her in her bliss. He let his back fall onto the cool surface of the table with Y/N in his shaking arms, her face in the crook of his neck. They were breathing hard, Y/N's dining table in need of some serious washing. "Y/N... " She groggily mumbled into his neck in response. "I love you." Only now, she lifted her head and her red face had a smile on it. "I love you too, darling." | 53791fbda7f3443a845ce9991e885fec | ['bf13f0124d264908962ff9c72d277692'] | Their whole journey to Y/N's home was a big mess of giggling and drunken talking about everything and nothing. Oh boy, wasn't she adorable. When she stumbled and almost fell, despite having her arm around haytham, he decided to carry her fully, bridal style. "Hm. Now aren't you just dreamy." He barely heard her muffle into his shoulder, as he enjoyed the heat her body was giving off. They were nearing her house and he was silently hoping it to be the wrong house. It wasn't. He shook the girl a bit and then made her stand on her feet again. She sinetly thanked him and unlocked her door. As Haytham starts saying his goodbye, Y/N reaches up, to grab the sides of his face and press her mouth against his. He was startled, but soon gave in, closed his eyes and gently wrapped her in his arms. Before he could squeeze her though, the little fox slipped free, with a drunken, yet mischievous smile. "Night night." She said and slipped into her house, leaving Haytham startled and wanting for more.
\---
As it seemed, Y/N didn't feel the need to acknowledge the fact that she's kissed him... Well, she did and he kissed back. She was still smiling at him and talking with him as usual and he felt... Strange. He didn't appreciate the 'silence' of the situation. And the most of all, Haytham couldn't deny he wished the kiss they shared was something more than a drunken act. Yet, he couldn't not notice the random touches that started to occur, more and more, from her side mainly. A week or so later after the incident, he finally decided to take action.
Meanwhile, he has fully recovered from his beating, spent some time talking and arguing with Connor and Achilles and even went as far as leaking some Templar intel. Well, they all thought he was dead, anyway. Connor seemed to simply accept him and, Haytham couldn't be sure, but he thought he even saw some sort of affection in his son's actions. He thought about the whole month he'd experienced in the homestead, as he was walking to the lady's little wooden door. He knocked and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and two curious eyes met his own. "Ah, hello there! " she instantly smiled and went to open the door for him, but he repeated her action from that blasted night, took her face in his hands and forcefully kissed her.
She immediately gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers going for his greying hair. He pulled away for air and breathlessly said: "Do you have any idea, how crazy you make me go?" She only groaned in response and kissed him once again.
\- A few weeks later -
Winter had begun and everything became white. In the past few weeks, a lot happened in the homestead - most significant was the wedding of Myriam and Norris, Haytham himself attended and desepite not knowing the people very well, he admitted it was a lovely ceremony. His mind was, however, absolutely elsewhere. The stolen moments he spent with Y/N made him feel at home, be it hunting, talking, or more intimate activities. Even though not as intimate as he wanted them to be, more and more.
Y/N had some errands in Boston, which would take a few days. However, wanting the public obliviousness of him being alive to last, Haytham decided to stay in the homestead, mostly training and manging the trades of various products people of the settlement made. They were rather resourceful, he noted, the village basically ran itself. He had to give plus points to Connor and Achilles for that. He tried to occupy himself as much as he could. Though, at night, so many inpure thoughts about Y/N just seemed to have a map right into his mind.
He went out for a walk, the other day, when a snowball hit his head from behind, almost making his hat fall off. He was ready to face some child, but was only met with a mischievous grin on Y/N's face, her nose red from the cold. "Oh, it's on, " he said quietly, before quickly picking up a snowball himself and hurling it the girl's direction. It hit her shoulder and she giggled as she ran. After several minutes of raging war, they laid there, on the snow, face red from laughter and some of the snowballs. Y/N was on top of Haytham, trying to comb her hair with wet fingers.
"What do you say.. " she started, still without breath from all the running, "What do you say, we go to my place and get rid of these wet, cold clothes?" What started out as funny and innocent, ended in a very flirty, almost hungry tone. Haytham helped her onto her feet, his own voice now low and cloudy: "Well, lead the way... "
\---
**Following part is rater M for Mature**
Haytham was sure he broke Y/N's door a little, from how bloody hard he slammed it shut behind him. He couldn't be bothered less, at least not in this moment, when her lips were on his own and her smaller hands were currently almost ripping his overcoat off him. He helped her as he could, although his own hands were still shaking from the cold and the anticipation, making him a bit clumsy with them.
When they pulled away for air and to shed some more clothing, Haytham noticed Y/N was a step ahead of him. True, he did wear more layers. She was currently pulling at her corset strings to get that blasted thing loose and he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Each revealed piece of skin was like a mystery, a foreign place, that needs to be mapped - by his eyes, hands and mouth. |
b445053b33754238b8e6dc15b38519e3 | ['bf1e4853f8a64245b844d84141993bf7'] | Maybe Natasha knew, or maybe she didn’t, but those words held Steve up as he got through that nightmare. When he left and called Bucky’s mom. Held him up when Winifred still refused him despite knowing how much he was involved in Bucky’s life and how much Bucky was in his; she only promised that she’d take care of him. (“Please make sure he finds someone that loves him as much as I do.” “I...I promise.”) Held him up when Steve dropped Bucky’s belongings at the hospital so that Pierce may pick them up. Held him up when he moved out of the apartment he once lived in with Bucky. Held him up when he decided that he’d bring his artistic skills into helping his mother out at the bakery. It was only when Steve was left alone in his new apartment after his mom visited that he allowed himself to take it all in. It scared him how much he’d gotten used to waking up in his queen sized bed without Bucky’s warm body beside him.
Flipping through the photo album they had, with the two of them or with friends, Steve couldn’t help the watery laugh at the picture of him and Bucky in their highschool graduation gowns, Bucky having Steve in a headlock; both boys had cheeky grins on their faces. “End of the line, huh?”
**_January 16, 2016_ **
_Nine years later_
“Steve, the couple scheduled for the wedding cake tasting are coming in two hours. I already have the cutlery and plates ready, and remember to heat up some water in case they want coffee or tea.” Peggy informed, wrapping her red scarf loosely around her neck. “If that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”
Steve came in from the kitchen, wiping his sticky hands on his apron. “Alright, thanks again, Peg.” He grinned and pecked her cheek. “Say hi to Angie for me.”
Peggy smiled kindly and rubbed a smudge of icing off his cheek. “Will do.” She held up her red holiday themed reusable bag. “I’m taking yesterday’s chocolate banana muffins. Hopefully she’ll crave it more than McDonald’s.”
“Ah, the struggles of pregnancy.” Steve snickered when Peggy shoved him good-naturedly. “Ok, get going. I think Sam’ll be back here soon.”
“He was always better at handling couples than us.” Peggy buttoned up her coat and went out the door. “Tell me how it goes. See you!”
Steve closed the door after her, chuckling under his breath. As he ambled around the bakery, fixing the displays and checking the counter for dust, his steps slowed once he saw the picture of his mom mounted on the wall next to the register. Before she passed away two years ago, she made sure Steve accepted her request of continuing their business. Without a shred of doubt, Steve promised. He thought of changing the name from Brooklyn Delights to Sarah’s Sweets, but even his mother would find it too corny. Steve shook his head, smiling at her memory before retreating back into the kitchen. The cakes only needed half an hour to be cooled and sliced, and Steve could easily get all the frosting and fillings done by then.
An hour and a half later, Steve’s phone vibrated on the stainless steel table. Steve collected the rest of the ganache in a piping bag before setting it down and grabbing his phone.
**Sam [10:18 AM]:** done with the VA meeting
**Sam [10:18 AM]:** you better have leftovers from the cake tasting
**Steve [10:19 AM]:** and if I don’t?
**Sam [10:19 AM]:** wow all of a sudden i forgot i had to do all of these things good luck with the couple
**Steve [10:19 AM]:** there’s plenty of cake left
**Steve [10:20 AM]:** and raspberry frosting
**Sam [10:20 AM]:** i’m gonna go get some groceries for home and then come in a few, i'll be hoping to see that raspberry frosting nice and ready for me
Sam and Steve met through the oddest way. It was a few months after his mother passed away, and Steve wasn’t at the best mental state, but Peggy and Angie—who lived next to him at the time—convinced him to start running in the morning so he had a purpose to get out of bed. It worked most of the time, and one morning, Steve was jogging and noticed another jogger ahead of him. That morning he felt a lot lighter and more himself, so, being the little shit that he was, Steve ran ahead, “On your left.” It got a laugh out of both men and by the end of their run, they met up and had a coffee. Sam was working full time at the VA, but now he works occasionally at the bakery; mainly with clients. For a good amount of time, Steve thought they would be more than friends, but the timing never seemed to fit.
The bell chimed while Steve was finished plating everything and piping the fillings and frosting into small square cups. Steve cursed under his breath and quickly rinsed his hands under the sink. It was a Sunday and their closed sign was facing forward, so it only had to be the couple. “Sorry! Hold on!”
“No rush!”
Steve froze.
No. No, it couldn’t be. The chances are very slim, right? It’s Brooklyn, every man from here sounds the same, right?. That’s a total lie, but Steve needed some kind of reason not to freak out in his own kitchen. All he needed to do is bring the samples to the table at front and ask them if they would like tea or coffee. Despite Steve’s rational thinking of just waiting for Sam to handle this, he ran out to the front. | ed91c240f1aa4ff2a72e0302f88dc437 | ['bf1e4853f8a64245b844d84141993bf7'] | “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s lovely.” Peggy smiled then it dropped. Steve wasn’t talking about the cake. “Sam told me about why you acted that way at the diner.” He groaned tiredly. “Angie wants you to know she’s sorry she even brought it up…”
“I’m not blaming this on anyone, Peggy.” Steve squeezed her hand that was now squeezing his shoulder.
“No,” She tilted her head slightly, “You’re just blaming yourself.”
“I should’ve fought for him harder.” He swallowed dryly, staring down at his sketch. “I just left. Just like that.”
“Steve, you had no other choice.” Peggy held his hand firmly as he sniffed, head hung low. “You were at a difficult time in your life, and Pierce took advantage of that. The only one at fault is him. Not Angie, not me, not Sam, not Charlie, not Bucky, and especially not you.”
“But what happens after the wedding?” He didn’t want to think about it, but once the wedding’s over, they’ll lose contact all over again. They weren't that close of friends, and soon, Bucky will leave and forget about Steve all over again. “They’ll be off on their honeymoon and never come back.”
Peggy chuckled warmly, and Steve will never get how easily her laugh can warm his heart. “You’re so dramatic. Bucky likes you. Friend-wise, I’m positive that he likes you.”
The two of them packed up and closed up the shop after Peggy convinced him to come home so that she, Angie, and Sam could come over and make him his favourite chicken burgers and fries. He and Peggy walked together in familiar silence, occasionally talking; talking about Angie’s rowdy male cast members that came over to their house. (“The Howling Commandos, is what they call themselves?” Steve snorted, feeling relieved that he finally got to laugh. “Naughty boys is what they are.”) But Steve always fell into his own thoughts. Bucky texted him earlier that he was done with his part of planning and that they could hang out more now. While Steve was ecstatic to see Bucky again after two weeks of not seeing his cheeky grins and deep laughter, it didn’t help Steve remembering how much he missed his Bucky. This Bucky wasn’t his and yet…
“I’m still in love with him.” They stood at the front door of Steve’s door when he said it. Peggy was unlocking the door, then paused, looking back at him. His eyes were sad and honest.
“I know.” She whispered back.
****
**_February 28, 2016_ **
It was a Saturday, and it was a pretty off day. Only the occasional regular would ring in for fresh double chocolate muffins; which was perfectly fine for Steve since he had to concentrate on old Mrs.Robin who wanted two dozen raspberry macaroons for her upcoming anniversary with her wife, Olivia. They were regulars and often came by to give Steve their favourite dish— Eggplant Parmesan — as a little additional thank you.
"Steve," Peggy called from the register while he was piping the last macaroon onto the tray. "a mysterious man is here to see you."
Bucky's laugh resonated through Steve's ears. The blond peered out from the kitchen, eyebrow raised. Bucky was wearing a black woollen trench coat with dark brown pants and black boots.
"Hey." Bucky grinned, watching Steve cross over and join him in front of the register.
"Hey." Steve said, but it was more of a question. "What're you doing here? Something about the cake?"
Peggy tutted behind them but busied herself and headed into the kitchen.
"Cake?" Bucky blinked, as if he forgot he had six months left until the wedding. "Oh! No, no, I'm sure it's perfect."
"Oh? Then what is it?"
Steve didn't expect to have his breath taken away by Bucky's wide grin and spread arms.
"I finished with wedding planning for the week, and I'm here to kidnap you." He announced.
“I— wait what?”
“Florist’s been picked, chose all the music, and sent the invites. It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Bucky listed off, getting into Steve’s personal space and took off his apron. “So as a repayment, I’m taking you out to the art gallery.”
Steve opened his mouth but he was already getting pushed from behind by small but firm hands. Peggy was pushing him by his shoulders, smiling at him. “H-hey! C’mon, guys!”
“No, you’re going out. You’ve been working nonstop, and you need to have some fun.” Peggy said.
“I have fun!” Steve protested. Peggy was taking the coat off the hook and he automatically slipped into it as she held it out to him, and Bucky was grinning from the sidelines.
“Thanks, Peggy.” Bucky winked and she snickered.
“But Mrs. Robin’s—”
“French macaroons, yes.” She nodded, pushing them out of the bakery, insistent. “I’ve already put them in the oven. Now get going! Make sure to bring him back in one piece, Bucky.”
“I make no promises!” Bucky laughed over his shoulder and took Steve by the arm, and pulled him to the right direction towards the art gallery.
****
Even though Steve was forced out of his own bakery, he found himself enjoying the art gallery. It was huge, and had a fair amount of independent artists with a variety of styles. Thank God. If Bucky suggested someplace they’ve been to in the past, like the retro arcade they went to on their spare blocks during school, or the ice cream shop by the beach they’d go to after a long three hours of swimming, hell, even the library would’ve given Steve flashbacks.
“Can I ask you something?” Bucky said tentatively, standing close to Steve as he was admiring the painting of a ballerina. Steve hummed, not looking back. “Why don’t you ever talk to me about your time in highschool? Or much of your life in general? I’ve been talking about my life, I barely know about yours.” |
e0372a3299b94bb0b130cc7d758e3a48 | ['bf23e582168e413aad35c57609d65cca'] | “The Kaaza are ancient predators. But they’re not usually very tactical, but can amass in large numbers if they are not contained. They have long tentacles that can crush bones if they grab ahold of you,” said Allura quickly.
“So, don’t let them grab you unless you are okay with losing a limb,” said Shiro, his arm lighting up.
“I am so not okay with that,” said Hunk backing into Shiro.
“Quiznak,” said Allura. She twirled her staff as the creature approached her. A hairy brown tentacle shot out of the mud. With a flick of her staff, the creature let out a deafening roar and the tentacle flopped onto the grass, severed from its body. Shiro and Allura were both spattered with mud and something black that might have been the creature’s blood.
It sunk back into the mud after another roar.
“Run!” She pushed Shiro forward as Coran streaked back toward the castle, running faster than Lance had thought he could ever move. Impressive, actually.
The ground shook as at least thirty more creatures emerged from the mud around them with a loud squelch. They were so heavily coated with mud it was hard to tell what they actually looked like. Mostly like rounded, hairy hills. Or maybe giant mud octopuses. Octopi? Whatever. They didn’t have a visible mouth, but the growled as they moved smoothly through the mud. The tentacles were completely hidden until they shot out with a loud splash and an odor that made him gag.
Keith sliced a tentacle that had shot out at Hunk, while Hunk was blasting them as he ran, missing more than he hit. Lance tried to shoot down as many as he could while the air filled with their roars. But every time one went down, another one was up. Their tentacles had to be at least four or five times longer than their body, reaching out from their bodies were at least 30 feet away.
Keith stayed in front of Lance, no more than a few feet like they were somehow tethered together.
Lance shot a tentacle reaching for him and was trying to dodge another when he slipped backwards. His leg sunk into the mud up to his knee and a tentacle grabbed ahold of his ankle, pulling him down before he could even manage to scream, frozen in fear. He choked as his head went under—the mud was so thick, he could barely move through it. He clawed helplessly trying to reach air, but his arms were useless in the heavy mud.
A tentacle wrapped around his wrist, and another wrapped across his chest and up around his neck. The tentacle around his leg tightened and he swallowed mud as his bones cracked under the strain. He flailed helplessly, as fear crushed his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die.
What would happen to Keith when he was gone?
A jolt rocked the creature and the tentacles went slack. Lance’s uninjured leg found solid ground and he pushed himself up, his arms outstretched. The mud was so heavy, he wasn’t even sure if he had reached the surface. His lungs were burning and his mouth was full of mud. Something thin wrapped around his wrist and pulled, dragging him until he felt hard ground beneath him.
“Lance! Lance!” yelled a broken voice.
He choked and gasped as water hit his face, clearing the mud from his mouth and nose. He dropped forward on his hands as he heaved and coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs. A hand was on his chin, lifting up his face.
“You’re okay,” said a calm voice as more water was poured down his face. He tried to push away from them, but stronger hands held him down. His mouth was pushed open and filled with water, and he coughed and spit to clear the mud out of his throat.
“Are there more?” asked someone. Hunk. He was holding onto Lance. “Can we move him?”
“What about his leg?”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Lance, can you walk?” said the voice in front of him. Shiro. His voice was soft—almost unrecognizable.
He screamed as a red-hot pain shot up his spine from his left leg when he tried to move. He clawed at Hunk’s arm wrapped around him. Keith? Where was Keith? He was there, Lance could feel him—he was scared. Why was he scared?
“We can use his armor as a splint. Pidge, do you see anything we can use as rope? Hunk, hold him still, we have to set his leg first.”
Lance screamed again as Shiro pushed on his leg, and he kicked out with his other leg. No, no, it hurt too much. He had to find Keith. He needed Keith to be okay.
“Keith, can you—never mind. Allura, can you hold his leg down?”
Hands were on his other leg, holding it down. Keith? Why wasn’t he here with Lance?
“Lance, you need to breathe,” said Shiro. “Pidge, can you help me tie the splint?”
“Did you hear that?” said Hunk, his voice shaking. “I think they’re coming back.”
“We’re moving on three. Ready?”
In a blur of agony, Lance was lifted into the air. He could hear screaming and Shiro’s voice, but he could barely breathe through the searing pain that whited out his vision. He caught a glimpse of red from Keith’s armor, felt Keith’s hand clutching his. Finally, everything faded into black.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Why is Lance always unconscious? My poor space son.
4. Four
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lance has no idea what’s going on anymore.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm so sorry, this took a million years. Real life has been a disaster, and I rewrote this chapter like seven times before I was decently happy with it. But (hopefully) it's nice and long for you! | 96a17a8f178f430d86a97c0cccd3355e | ['bf23e582168e413aad35c57609d65cca'] | Tony’s eyes flew open and he pushed himself into a sitting position. “I gotta save New York,” he yelled putting his hands out in front of himself like he was about to stop himself from hitting a wall.
Steve, in the meantime, had slid off the bed and onto the ground out of surprise.
Tony glanced wildly around the room before pointing at the coffeemaker. “Yes,” he muttered still pointing, but not making any attempt to actually reach it. He let out a sigh and flopped back onto the bed. A moment later, he was snoring.
Steve’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He took several deep breaths. Tony was still fast asleep and snoring. Steve flicked on the coffee maker and started putting the folded clothes into Tony’s drawers, stopping several times to stifle his laughter with his hand.
Friends. He could do that. After all, friends were totally entitled to tease each other about superhero dreams. Tony would be embarrassed and probably blame it on a lack of coffee while Steve laughed.
(He’d much rather be lying next to Tony and kiss away Tony’s sputtered protests, but he’d take what he could get.)
Steve dropped a pile of socks onto the ground. What was he still doing here? And why was he thinking about kissing Tony? Things weren’t like that between them. Tony had made sure that was perfectly clear.
Steve stuffed the socks into the drawer and slid it closed. Maybe it’d be best if he just stayed away from Tony for a while. Steve definitely had enough work to do. He really did need to spend some serious hours in the studio before his gallery final. He only had two more weeks to get everything perfect—and that included squeezing in time for chemistry tutoring with Bruce. And regular things like food and sleep.
Steve grabbed the empty laundry baskets and didn’t look back as he walked out of Tony’s room. He didn’t have time to deal with his stupid, unrequited feelings right now.
Fuck everything.
Tony’s backpack dug into his shoulders and his arms ached from his crutches, but that did not stop his determination. If Pepper found out that he had been in his lab until 3am, he’d never hear the end of it. She’d probably take his crutches and put a tracker around his ankle. Not to mention, stupid Campus Safety was closed so he couldn’t get a ride. He was never going to make it. He could have called Rhodey, but he was a tattletale. Where was the loyalty?
He just wanted to get in some quality lab time before Thanksgiving break was over. And he had spent most of it asleep. Stupid human limitations. Who needed that kind of nonsense?
Tony would just blame it on the fact that all of his clothes ended up in his actual drawers and he spent a full hour trying to find them, which prevented him from working half the day. Although, his coffeemaker was filled with fresh coffee, so he really couldn’t be mad about the complete invasion of his privacy. It was magical.
He’d called Pepper, sure that she had finally cracked, until realizing halfway through his accusation that she was still in Chicago. Not that Tony would put it past her to teleport, but he was pretty sure she couldn’t do that yet. Instead, he found out that Steve had cleaned out his room and he almost hung up on Pepper to panic by himself. Who does other people’s laundry? His sheets were clean! All his flash drives had reappeared on his desk and the whole place actually looked livable. How did Tony end up with this absolute Prince Charming in his life?
Did that make him a damsel in distress? (Pepper said yes…rude.)
After that, Tony called Bruce to yell at him about the noodles that almost killed him, and got a lecture on proper food storage. Ridiculous. The man drinks tea out of flowery mugs, where does he get off scolding people?
Tony rounded the corner of the student union and stopped to take a breather. He was so close. He could almost see the dorms, he could totally do this. And as soon as he made it through the door he was never moving again. Not until his cast was gone and he could walk like a normal human. Maybe he should get a metal leg. That would be kind of awesome—and it would definitely be gold.
Laughter snapped him back to reality. A group of guys were walking down the pathway toward him, swinging beer bottles. Of course. This was karma biting him in the ass.
There were five of them. Rhodey liked to call them the “Fab Five” like those cheerleaders from Texas. Tony didn’t really like to think about them at all. He had been hoping they had all dropped out or transferred after all the events of last year’s huge blowout party. But, of course not—Tony wasn’t allowed to have nice things.
He supposed that he should have expected this to happen eventually. He’d gotten out easy by being unconscious in the hospital while Pepper took care of all the threats and warnings to stay away from Tony. She was good at that kind of thing.
“Tony Stark,” said Alexander Pierce, flanked by his cronies. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, his eyes fixed on Tony. “Where’s your little redhead defender?”
The rest of them sniggered and Tony’s hands tightened on his crutches. He relaxed his shoulders trying to look casual. “Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“I never see you around anymore, Stark,” said Rumlow, punctuating his statement by stepping forward and pushing Tony into the wall. That wasn’t really necessary. |
e5845287fba04a3fa5a755d5d9e338b8 | ['bf2f4e519aa64754a4ab94dd3f03f9f1'] | Service
Small pants escaped Mizuki's mouth, even though he tried to remain as calm as he could. No, his heart was beating too fast and it felt so good that an occasional moan or grunt would just escape him.
Sei's hot breath tickled at the sensitive flesh of his cock, and those loving licks were nothing to giggle at. No, Mizuki could feel his self control slip away as each second passed by.
Mizuki had a loose grip on Sei's hair, letting himself get distracted by the soft strands that was the other's hair. This did nothing to distract him, but it was nice to show at least some sign of affection while receiving Grade A head.
Placed in between his lover's legs, Sei held the base of Mizuki's cock and sucked lightly on the head of the shaft. This in turn caused a surprised gasp to come from above, delighting Sei. Yes, he was happy that he could give such feelings to Mizuki. He smiled and squeezed his hand around the other.
“Does it feel good, Mizuki?” Sei asked, and Mizuki nodded without hesitation. Even from a distance, Sei could see the other's heated eyes.
Mizuki could not say anything. Well, he could, but what does someone say in a situation like this? What type of small talk happens as your lover takes you in? How can someone actually speak when something as pleasurable as feeling the warm, wet insides of a mouth? Mizuki wondered these thigns lazily as such things were done to him. Sei licked along the bottom of his dick before putting his lips around the head and moved lower.
Moving his tongue along the base, Sei bobbed his head lightly. At this point, Mizuki could not control any form of noise coming from his person. Small groans calling out 'Oh god' and 'Sei..' spilled out constantly, enticing Sei to only further continue his actions (though at this point, he wasn't planning to stop).
Mizuki involuntarily bucked his hips to push himself deeper into Sei's mouth, which made Sei moan out.
“Ah, I'm sorry...” Mizuki apologized. Sei pulled away and smiled at Mizuki. “It's ok,” he responded, and placed a small kiss on Mizuki's shaft. Of course, Mizuki's face went two shades darker and he smiled back. Sei sure was something.
It only took two more minutes till Mizuki started feeling pressure build up in his lower abdomen and approach a peak in pleasure. Sei showed indifference to the sudden pleas for him to get away, to stop so he doesn’t get dirty and only does more to bring Mizuki to his peak. Along with his sucking, Sei proceeded to rub and squeeze Mizuki's cock, and the explicit noises Sei was making while doing this only made Mizuki reach his edge faster.
“Sei... Sei.. I- coming-” Mizuki shakily said, pushing Sei away from him lightly. Sei, pulled away and looked up at Mizuki. With only a small smile on his face, Sei brought Mizuki to his completion.
Wiping the cum from his hand, Sei raised himself up to Mizuki's level. “Was it good?” Sei asked, a clearly sly smile on his face. Mizuki rolled his eyes and laughed. “Of course it was. Soon, I will have to return the favor...” Mizuki pulled Sei to him and flipped them over.
“How about now?” Sei could only giggle and kiss him. | ecc365c4b30b4133a2533b8e11578876 | ['bf2f4e519aa64754a4ab94dd3f03f9f1'] | The oodachi only offers a smile as Nikkari leaves the room, thoughts of snacks on his mind…and stories. A whole year…He has missed a lot.
_Namazuo held a toad in his hand, and sprinted towards Honebami. It was spring… such small critters now occupied the once freezing pond. On the engawa, Ishikirimaru and Nikkari sat side by side, a plate of onigiri and tea by their side._
_“It is a shame I cannot go with you, Aoe.”_
_“Don’t look so sad, it doesn’t compliment your handsome face. It is a night battle, so you wouldn’t fit in either way. Some stone can be cut, but that doesn’t mean they should be cut.” Nikkari teases the larger body with a small lean against his shoulder._
_“Besides, Ookurikara will be coming along. Even for a lone dragon like him, he does work well in attacking together.”_
_Ishikirimaru shakes his head either way. “Even so…”_
_A small kiss is placed on Ishikirimaru’s cheek._
_“Would you like me to soothe your worries, dear? I know a way to help you…” The wakizashi’s hand travels down Ishikirimaru’s arm all the way to his hand, which was folded nicely on Ishikirimaru’s lap._
_“What way would that be?”_
_“I am sure you have an idea. How long have we been together? You are not so pure for a divine sword, after all.”_
_And the moment is interrupted by Namazuo screaming in surprise as the frog leaps towards Honebami. Nikkari chuckles and falls back into his place._
_“I will be back soon to finish what I started.”_
_“Next time, at least wait till we are back in our room.”_
_The smile on Nikkari’s lips is wide before he cranes over for a kiss. “I half thought you wanted a thrill.”_
_“This and that is different.”_
_“Not that different. Though, I guess the bedroom allows for more possibilities. Out in public, I cannot do much.” Ishikirimaru shook his head._
_“I wonder who taught you all of this.”_
_“Who knows. Anyways, I see Hasebe coming over.” Nikkari stands up and looks fondely at the seated male. “See you soon. I hope I don’t keep you waiting too long.”_
Nikkari returns with a plate of dango and a pot of tea he took from the kitchen. He closes the door behind him with a foot and lays down the tray, sitting down.
“You are already dozing off? My, did you miss me?”
“… Of course, you took too long.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I really did take too long posting this chapter. Thank you very much for reading!
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Let's hope I update... not a few months from now. |
9cbb47fd312d4eafb93db20f0efbadaf | ['bf60e6fb13c74853b8bce5e98f23f6e7'] | He and Seamus raised their wands together. “ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” This time the effect was instantaneous. A silver fox dashed between the legs of a huge silver male lion, which bounded forward into the lion of Dementors, bowling several of them over. It roared - a sound which surely had never been heard on the island until now, and leapt at another group, opening wide its jaws. A couple of the hooded figures flailed their scaly hands and vanished into the air. The fox bit and snapped at where their ankles might have been, making them dart away, and some of them actually lost their balance, tripping over each other in attempts to get away. Neville found himself actually laughing at the sight, and he heard Seamus chuckling beside him.
The silvery hawk cried aloud in victory as the Dementors were driven back into the sea, and whirled back to land imperiously on Rothers’ shoulder. As the last few dark creatures made their escape, the stag whacking at them with its antlers, the rest of the army of Patroni gradually retreated. A silver greyhound came up to Ralph to be patted. The fox pranced its way back to Seamus and did a figure eight between his legs before fading away.
The lion, after satisfying itself that there was nothing left to hunt, padded back along the shore, leaving deep cat-like footprints in the grey sand between the rocks. It came up to Neville and nuzzled at his shoulder. Magically insubstantial as it was, Neville could feel the tickle of its whiskers and its mane against his cheek. “You got big,” he said, not at all frightened, as he definitely would have been if a real lion had put its mouth so close to his head. He reached up to touch it under the chin, and it vanished.
“ _ You got big? _ ” Seamus repeated, incredulously. “Seriously?”
Neville shrugged. He looked over at Harry and Ron. Ron looked furious, and simultaneously seemed to be about to faint; he didn’t seem to have tried his Patronus a second time, despite Harry’s urging. There wasn’t time to talk, however, as Rothers was directing them to help the freed prisoners down the wharf towards the boat. Neville found himself supporting Mr Lovegood, while Seamus ushered a woman with a young child to the bow. “I know you, don’t I?” Lovegood asked, peering at Neville even as he sat down on one of the forward benches. “I’ve seen your face.”
“Er… I don’t think so,” Neville said. He looked back towards the beach. As the last people were loaded onto the boat, Rothers was instructing a group of five Aurors who were to remain on the island to care for the remaining prisoners until reinforcements could be sent. The big pawprints in the grey sand had vanished. Maybe they had never really been there after all. “I’m friends with your daughter,” Neville admitted, when Lovegood continued to frown at him.
“Ah.” That seemed to satisfy him, even though Neville was still sure they had never met before.
There was more noise on the boat as they set off this time, and no one shushed them. They were all glad to be clear of the island. Large rations of chocolate were shared out among everyone, which helped to clear the terrible cold from the inside. “Won’t they come back?” Seamus asked, leaning over the back of his seat.
“Possible, but I doubt it,” Ralph put in, grinning. His face was covered with sweat, or sea spray, it was hard to tell. In fact they were all rather damp. “Not after the show we just gave them! Wasn’t that ripping?”
“Ah, it was satisfying all right, but I’d rather not have to do it again,” Seamus shuddered. “Ugh. Dementors. Whoever thought it was a good idea to let them guard a prison?”
“But what Patronuses!” Ralph went on. “That stag - and that lion! I’ve never seen anything like that - Dementors going over like bowling pins! Brilliant.”
Neville privately thought that Ralph might have had a bit more chocolate than the rest of them. He couldn’t bring himself to feel quite so elated. He looked over to where Harry and Ron had been to see Ron sitting alone, with a face like thunder.
“He needs a minute.” Harry had appeared at Neville’s elbow.
“Is… he okay?”
Harry looked over at his friend. “He thinks he failed, I think.”
Neville frowned. “His brother _ just _ died,” he said, in an undertone that only the two of them could hear. “Who’d be able to do a Patronus after that?”
“I know,” Harry sighed. “He’s struggling, but he won’t talk about it. He just wants to punch something.”
“Too bad you can’t hit Dementors.”
Harry snorted. “You could try, but I wouldn't recommend it.”
Neville shuddered. “Ugh.”
“Hey.” Harry gave him a proud sort of smile. “I’ve never seen that Patronus before. Very cool.”
Neville flushed. “Oh, well. I almost didn’t manage it.”
“But you did.” Harry bumped his fist against Neville’s shoulder. “Nice work. I told Kingsley you’d be great at this.”
Neville rolled his eyes and grinned. He should have known Harry was behind the surprise job offer.
When they got back to the Ministry around mid-afternoon, there was already a crowd gathered. Word had evidently gotten out that the prisoners would be returning. There were a lot of hugs and tears as families were reunited. Neville was starting to wonder whether they would be there all night, when Mr Lovegood let out a happy cry from beside him, and Luna was there. She left the floor as she threw her arms around him, and they buried their heads in each other’s shoulders. Neville felt rather guilty for being there, and averted his eyes. He could see Harry and the others doing the same.
“You found him!” Luna exclaimed, and when he looked up she was looking right at him.
“Er…” he protested, awkwardly, glancing around to the others, but no one offered him any help whatsoever. Seamus raised his eyebrows and gave him an encouraging head-jerk. “Ah,” Neville turned back to Luna, who was beaming at him. “It was actually more of a… I mean, we were all…”
Before he could say anything else, however, she was in his arms. He was vaguely aware of Seamus whistling loudly behind him, but it hardly mattered, with her hand around the back of his neck, and the scent of cork and oranges - dampened only a little by the ocean smell coming from his own clothes - and most importantly the softness of her lips on his…
“All right, break it up, break it up.”
Neville tried to disentangle himself, but Luna had quite a grip on his hair. “Sorry, Mr Rothers…”
“A _ little _ propriety, Mr Longbottom…” Rothers’ face was extremely unimpressed, though it was rivalled by the enormous grin Seamus was wearing.
“Did _ not _ see that coming,” Ron muttered.
“You should take your Dad home,” Neville told Luna. His face was hotter than he could ever remember; he was sure he was red as a beetroot. “Go on.”
She leaned up on tip-toe to whisper in his ear. “I’ll see you later.” Then, still smiling at him, she led her father away by the arm. | 7bca03c281cf4b74b1f250a0de5d1d34 | ['bf60e6fb13c74853b8bce5e98f23f6e7'] | When he woke up he was in a bed in the Hospital Wing, still fully clothed, with Luna curled up beside him. It felt odd, but not unpleasant. Her hair tickled his nose. When he sat up, carefully, his face no longer throbbed. He picked up a mirror from the chest beside the bed and examined his reflection. The bruises were gone. The cut on his face had now fully healed but it had, as he had expected, left a thin white scar through his left eyebrow, down his cheek and down to his chin. He knew he was lucky not to have lost an eye.
He looked around, recognising a few of the other patients. A curtain surrounded one bed near the end of the ward - he assumed it was Lavender’s. Directly across from him, Justin Finch-Fletchley’s face looked as pale as the pillow beneath, contrasted by his dark hair. Neville didn’t even remember seeing him in the battle. Perhaps he’d been hurt early on.
Luna didn’t stir as he got up, and he left her to sleep. He’d gotten, he guessed, a good ten hours of sleep based on the position of the sun in the sky as he walked down the empty, rubble-strewn corridor and down the stairs to the Entrance Hall. “Ah, Longbottom,” McGonagall’s voice from behind made him jump. “You’re looking a little less worse for wear.”
Neville reached up automatically to touch his face, and felt rather silly for it. “Thanks, Professor,” he said, shuffling his foot in the dust left by the mess he’d helped to clean up the day before. Healed up he might be, but he was still wearing the clothes he’d fought in; he felt decidedly scruffy in front of the acting Headmistress. “I’m sorry if I was rude, yesterday,” he added, recalling his behaviour with not a little mortification. “I was… you know…”
“Apology accepted.” She gave him a brief, appraising sort of look, then beckoned. “Come with me a moment.”
Befuddled, he fell into step beside her as they climbed up the marble staircase, back the way he had come, and kept going up until they reached the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. Without the need for a password, the statue stood aside automatically as they approached. The staircase took them up to the office, where Neville had visited only twice before, the last time being the failed attempt to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. Oh yes, that had gone very well, he chided himself for the hundredth time as the door opened for McGonagall. Whyever had he thought _that_ was a good idea?
The sword, it turned out, had since been returned to the office. It was back on its stand, shining clean, with no trace of snake blood remaining on the blade. Neville found himself drawn to it; he couldn’t resist taking a step closer, and reaching out a hand to touch the hilt.
“Perhaps you should take it,” said McGonagall, lowering herself slowly into the chair behind the desk. “The Sorting Hat certainly seemed to think you were worthy of it,” she went on, ignoring the shocked look on his face.
“Oh - no,” he said, quickly. “No, it belongs here. I was only borrowing it, or something. Anyway if anyone was going to have it it would be Harry, right?”
McGonagall smiled thinly. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said, folding her hands neatly on the desk in front of her. “Did the hat say anything to you, when it gave you the sword?”
Neville flushed.
“Well? Don’t be bashful, boy.”
“Um. It said, er… ‘a true Gryffindor,'" Neville mumbled, embarrassed nevertheless. “I don’t think it was a compliment, though. It was gloating.”
“Oh?”
Neville shrugged. “I begged for ages for it to put me in Hufflepuff. It never listened.”
“Ah. I remember it did take an abnormally long time to decide. We must be glad for its stubbornness in this instance, however.”
“I don’t know. I probably would have got into a lot less trouble in Hufflepuff.”
McGonagall smiled. A real, genuine smile of the sort he’d only seen on her face a couple of times. “Perhaps,” she conceded. She lowered her hands into her lap. Neville remembered his overdue concern for her health the night before.
“Are you all right, Professor?” he asked. “You have slept as well, haven’t you?”
McGonagall raised an imperious eyebrow. “I have, not that it is for you to worry about, Mr Longbottom. Let us not forget that I am still the teacher and you are the student.”
“Am I though?” Neville asked, trying not to sound insolent. “I mean, isn’t school over? You can’t hold the exams after all this, surely?”
She sighed. “No, we most certainly cannot. Be that as it may, while students remain in the castle, or taking shelter at Hogsmeade, they are still my responsibility. There is still a lot of work to do before we can close the school safely to begin repairs. The Ministry, as you can imagine, is in an uproar. It’ll be a week at least before they recover enough to send anyone to assist. Under the circumstances, with Draco Malfoy having left the castle, and not that I would trust him as far as I could throw him if he hadn’t, I should like to name you _pro tem_ Head Boy. If you are agreeable?”
Neville nodded. He supposed he should have been surprised, or flattered, but he wasn’t. There wasn’t really anyone else. |
1f8868c7da1f4975b40e1c0f639bc4d8 | ['bf67758fd8d14b41aac31dc1f7d0be14'] | More than One Secret
The beautiful Russian woman sat on the bed, her pale skin reflecting the moonlight that lit up the dark room. Her bare skin was exposed along her backside. The sparkling blue dress she wore showed nothing farther than her toned bottom, and ran into a point at the base of the small of her back. Her hair had grown longer, and the ruby red lustre of her long strands glinted softly off her left shoulder.
Clint knelt beside her on the bed, taking a comb out and running it through her waves of blood-red beauty. She sighed with his gentle touch, being content with the simple brush of his calloused archer hands on her neck.
He leaned down to press his lips on her shoulder firmly, kissed it and whispered, "You're very beautiful. Especially looking like this."
She gave a humourless laugh. "Please Clint, don't be fooled. I'm a cold-hearted woman underneath this stunning, seductive persona."
He gently began running his fingers through her hair, playing with it, then began braiding it into an intricate pattern. She waited until he was done, unsure of why her hair was suddenly being tugged slightly, then turned her back to the mirror in front of her and glanced over her shoulder. She gasped with awe.
"Clint, I never knew you could braid…and so…so beautifully." She exhaled with lack of any more words to say.
"Well, my deft fingers don't only shoot arrows sweetheart; sometimes they're used for simpler things too."
Her eyes began brimming with tears. His heart thudded with the thought of making her cry. She never cried. His heart almost stopped entirely when she spoke up again.
"Clint," she whispered quietly. "No one has ever braided my hair before. I never had a mother, and the girls at the Black Widow Ops…well, let's just say they didn't exactly give us all a free hair-styling class." She laughed slightly. Then she looked up at him, her green gaze slightly glazed over and said, "Thank you."
"Natasha, anything for you." He wrapped his arms around her in a passionate embrace and kissed her ear. She sighed with pleasure; happy to be held by the one man she had always longed to be with. They broke their embrace, and she then backed up to face him. She laid her hands on his chest and gripped his midnight black tuxedo tenderly with her fingertips.
"Now look, we can't be all happy-sappy-lovey-dovey out there at the party tonight. Nobody knows we're engaged, and we certainly don't need Stark spreading it around. You know how he tends to get when he's drunk."
He smirked playfully and looked deeply into her eyes.
"You got it, love."
He kissed her one last time before they left, tasting her ever-pleasantly plump lips for the last time until they snuck into their apartment again tonight in the wee hours of the morning. He held her hand until they arrived at the party, where throughout the night they gave each other flirty glances and stares of longing. He mouthed "I love you" to her, and she mouthed it back. And they both meant it. | 305acdf1383a46e68298558598f0ef71 | ['bf67758fd8d14b41aac31dc1f7d0be14'] | > Jak and Keira's kiss gets interuppted - again (no surprise there!) - by Jinx. On the way out of their booth, they run into Ashelin and Torn who go to the dance floor. After their interaction, Jak can finally bring Keira up to the bar.
“DAXTER! DAXTER! DAXTER!”
Jak and Keira abruptly jerked away from each other at the sudden noise. A very drunk Jinx had torn down the curtain and clambered into the booth seat that Keira had previously occupied. Keira squeaked in surprise and clutched at Jak’s chest. Jak instinctively threw his arm in front of Keira, and growled at the intruder.
“Whoaaa! Hey hey hey! Pretty Boy!” Jinx slurred. His cigar was hanging loosely from his fingers, making ash splatter all over the table. “Your friend is getting _crazy_ \- The crowd’s going wild!” He pointed towards the bar with a half empty beer mug, sloshing some onto the booth’s table top.
Keira and Jak poked their heads around the booth quickly, only to rolls their eyes. Daxter had practically started a riot at the bar. He was reclined back as Tess was pouring him something from a funnel, with the crowd chanted in sync “Chug! Chug! Chug!” with every gulp he took. The last remaining drops fell into Daxter’s mouth. Even with a swollen belly, he lazily swiped his mouth with his arm, hopped up and threw peace signs at his watchers. They roared in excitement. Daxter stumbled sideways and slurred “Thiiiis next round… izz on ME EVRY ONE! Come on… ledz do som SHOTS!” He drunkenly pumped a fist in the air.
The crowd cheered as Tess started pouring mugs of ale after the other as everyone came to collect on Daxter’s offer. Samos only rolled his eyes and quickly hovered over to the edge of the table where he caught Daxter’s foot with his hand, and kept him from face planting into the jungle juice that had formed on the floor below. A ball of energy quickly formed within his hands, and he vaguely mumbled something about ‘alcohol poisoning’ and ‘responsibility’.
Jak and Keira sighed. That was Daxter for you.
“Sheesh Blondie, you’re pretty quiet! And here I thought you would have been happy to see me! Ah well, I’m going to go *hiccup* take Daxter up on that round of shots…” And as quickly as he had come, he was gone.
With Jinx stumbling off to the Naughty Ottsel’s bar to meet the naughty ottsel himself, Jak and Keira were finally alone again.
But… they knew that the moment had passed. A bunch of drunks tumbling into the middle of a big moment isn’t exactly the “big kiss” Jak had in mind.
Jak sheepishly looked away and awkwardly put his hand behind his head again once he realized what a disaster that could have been, while Keira twiddled with her fingers and blushed crimson red with the same realization.
They both looked at each other nervously and chuckled.
“Looks like Jinx is enjoying himself – I say it’s about time we do too.” Jak said with a cheeky grin. He offered a hand to Keira.
Keira wrapped her fingers in between Jak’s as he started pulling the curtain away, but not before bumping into a pair of red heads.
“Torn! Ashelin! Hey, you made it!” Jak said excitedly.
“Watch it, tough guy.” Torn growled, “I don’t do touchy stuff.” He sniffed and looked away.
The red head beside him sighed. “Sorry, what he _means_ to say is that we didn’t know this booth was taken.” Ashelin smiled apologetically.
“Yeah…whatever.” Glancing up, Torn decided to warm up. It _was_ a huge victory that they were celebrating, after all, and his entire resistance movement would have failed if it weren’t for the eco-freak in front of him.
“Ah hell, it’s good to see you jakky-boy.” He gripped hands with Jak in greeting, and gave him a casual two-fingered salute. Jak returned the gesture as torn regained his casual cross-armed stance.
“We were just about to grab a drink, care to join us?” Jak offered politely.
“Maybe later; this guy owes me a dance.” Ashelin winked, giving them a wave before she dragged Torn to the middle of the dance floor (with some slight resistance).
_But I don’t dance!_
_You already made us late to this party Torn, don’t give me another reason to be mad at you!_
_Ash, it’s not my thing –_
_Torn as the governor I am ORDERING you to dance with me!_
_Aaaaghhhh… Yes sir. I MEAN yes ma’am, wait, I mean…_
Jak and Keira laughed at their banter, and the sight of a Krimzon guard uniform illuminated by disco lights bouncing off of armored bracers as Torn awkwardly moved his hands in what seemed to be his attempt at dancing.
Jak put an arm around Keira’s waist.
“Alright, I am _done_ with all these interruptions! It’s time for _us_ to have some fun.” Jak mischievously grinned and gripped Keira even tighter.
Keira laughed and followed him to the bar, where drinks were on tap for free for the hero of the night.
5. Chapter 5
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Torn and Ashelin's dancing escalates, and so does Daxter's drunkeness. After catching up a bit on the past two years, and making sure Daxter's okay, Jak and Keira have had enough drinks to go to the dance floor.
It was an hour later, and the Naughty Ottsel had reached the peak of its wildness. Most of the Underground members had shown up, along with any Krimzon guards who had remained loyal to Ashelin and served as her spies (out of uniform, of course). The bar was buzzing with the thrill of intoxication and long-awaited freedom. Most had a drink in their hand, and even more had heard one of Daxter’s over exaggerated Metal Head stories at least twice (there’s no telling how many Tess had heard at this point). |
28d25ee14fff4447a4b6ae0e0759ac8e | ['bf97791c8e0b4913ab533420b556aed8'] |
1. Love and broken promises
**Author's Note:**
> Did you think Infinity part 2 is Thor & Carol again? Well, you have to wait, it will come soon…
Gamora's POV
"Should I take grenades?"
Peter asks me.
I do not answer. I have bigger problems.
_ I wish I could tell him about it, but it would only get him into trouble._
"Gamora?"
"Are you listening to me?"
_ He still talks to me. He sounds a little worried. If only he knew ... _
I still do not answer him.
"Is everything ok?" He asks me.
"You know that you can talk to me, right?"
_ I do not want to involve him, but if I don't talk to him, he probably wont stop asking me what's going on and I don't want to waste time, maybe this is the last time we spend time together ... _
"I know something, something Thanos wants to know, something he would kill for ..." I tell him.
"You- You what?!" He says, completely confused and worried.
"Why do you know something like that?"
"What do you know?"
_He looks, kinda scared while asking me._
"I can't tell you!" I answer.
"Why not?!"
"Gamora, I want to know the reason why Thanos would want to kill you!"
"When you tell me, we're prepared, we probably know-"
"Stop!" I interupt him.
"When I tell you, you know it to, it would create more Problems!"
"But, you can help me with something…"
"Okay, whatever you want." he says.
"You need to promise me, if Thanos get me, you have to kill me." I tell him.
"What?! he probably thinks I'm out of my mind.
"Just, promise me, okay?" I say softly.
"Okay" he says.
_I move closer to him. I suddenly kiss him, I did what I wanted to do. I know that I Maybe won't get another chance to do it. Because, if Thanos gets the Stones, and I can't stop him, maybe he dies. Or maybe I die. Or both of us. _
_The kiss feels good. He kisses me back. Whatever happens next, I hope it won't ruin this. _
* * * * *
Peter's POV:
"YOU LET HER GO!" I scream at the Purple bastard.
_This must be what Gamora told me. The think I shouldn't know. And the other Thing. The killing her Thing. I don't like it. I mean, I promised, but there must be another Option, where she is save._
"Peter, not him." she says, while Looking at me.
_I know what she wants me to do. But, I just, I can't. I love her, and I never told her. We just kissed, and now I have to kill her. That's not fair!_
"Peter, you promised!"
"You promised!" she says and crys.
"He's too weak, he won't do it." Thanos says.
"Don't expect to much from him." He tells her.
_It makes me Angry, but not because he said I'm weak. It's because he's Right. I am too weak. I can't do it._
Thanos get Closer to me, so I can shoot Gamora. To prove her, I am too weak.
"I love you more than anything."
_Wow, I Always wanted to hear that from her, but I didn't wanted it to happen like this. I can't believe this is Happening. Because when I kill her, something really bad won't happen. I Maybe could save everyone. Except Gamora. She would be dead._
_And it would be my fault. If don't kill her she would be disappointed. But I prefere to live with the fact that I have disappointed her, and she hates me, and that something terrible happens, than that I'm responsible for her death!_
"I love you too, and that's the reason why I can't do it." I say.
_ As soon as I finished speaking, she and Thanos disappeared. The disappointment in her eyes. I will never forget that. _
2. one moment
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Gamora is on Vormir, with Thanos. And then, there is this one Moment. It's all she has left.
On Vormir
Gamora's POV:
"I'm sorry, Little one." that's all he says.
From now on everything I hear is me, Screaming. I tried everything, I tried to kill myself, I tried to run away, I wanted Peter to kill me.
I'm getting Closer to the cliff. I don't wanna die! I cry, I scream, I try to hit him but Nothing helps.
*gets thrown off the cliff*
And there it is.
The moment.
This one moment, the last moment I have.
The only thing I have now.
I see my life. I see my Family, I see what did because of Thanos. I see that I made it.
I changed.
I became a better Person. I am able to love.
I am loved.
And that's it. The last thing I feel isn't the Cold, the end of the cliff, the pain I'm supposed to feel.
I feel loved. By my Family.
A Family that loves you. Somebody who loves you. Something Thanos will never get.
But I, I feel loved
* * * * *
*later, on Titan*
Peter's POV:
"No you didn't" that's all I can say.
"Quill! WE ALMOST GOT THIS OFF!" this earth guy shouts at me.
"No, no you didn't!" I say, ignoring him.
"I dare you, if you ruin this I'm gonna kill you you!" Thor's girlfriend says.
"Do you think I care?" I ask silently.
"Tell me you didn't do it!" I ask Thanos again.
"I had to..." Thanos says.
"No you didn't." I say, and nearly start to cry.
"NO YOU DIDN'T!" I scream, and attack Thanos.
_It's not fair! He killed the love of my life! And now I have to do Nothing? My Girlfriends murderer stands Right infront of me, Nothing holds me back from hitting him in the face and I'm supposed to do Nothing?._ | ccf9fa1152064598b971e5e8b7f6e180 | ['bf97791c8e0b4913ab533420b556aed8'] | _I wake up and am in a foreign ship. How the hell did I get here? I turn around and see that I'm not alone._
_A few other living beings are looking at me. They probably own the ship._
"Who the hell are you guys?" I ask.
"We could ask you the same thing." says the idiot who is at the front.
"We are the Guardians of the Galaxy!" says the sweet rabbit.
_This could be interesting …_
A few minutes later, on the way the Nidavelier
_I explained what happened and why a lot of bodies are floating in space. After that I realized that this quill is an idiot, he tried to copy me._ _We also talked about Thanos and how we act against him. _
_ I want revenge. He slaughtered half of my people, killed my best friend and brother. And Carol, I do not even know if she's okay. The last time I saw her, she tried to kill Thanos, she was completely exhausted. Heimdal sent her and Bruce away. No idea where. Maybe she is not even safe. _
_ Well, usually I do not have to worry about her, she's the strongest person I know, but when Thanos attacked, she was half dead. But, I already have a plan. I, the tree, and the sweet rabbit fly with the capsule to Nidavelier to get me a new weapon. A weapon that can kill Thanos. _
"Wow, a dead brother and a dead best friend, Thanos has taken everything from you." says the rabbit, tearing me out of my thoughts.
"That was not even everything. I have a girlfriend, she could escape, but I do not know if that was enough, I do not know if she's still alive."
"Oh, that must be really shitty. Do you love her?" the Rabbit suddenly asks.
"I never told her, but yes, I love her." I answer him.
_ After that we only talk about the weapon. Until we arrive... _
7. We're gonna kill Thanos
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The black order has arrived on earth.
Carol's POV:
_People are in a panic, I can understand, an alien ship does not come to the planet every day. Doctor Strange has used this mirror demension to fight against the aliens._
_By now I feel better, I think. Anyway, I can fight and kill Thanos black order. Tony has just been discussing with the alien, and now he's already on one of his Iron Man suits._
**The fight starts. Carol sneaks into the alien ship, hoping the aliens could bring her to Thanos. A few minutes later Tony Stark, Spiderman and Doctor Strange are also on the ship. **
** Less voluntary than Carol. **
"What are you doing here?" Stark asks me confused.
"I could ask you that, too." I answer.
"I'm here because the guy who is currently torturing Strange, wants the stone, but I want to prevent that. And you?"
"I'm going to kill Thanos."
"You're not the only one who wants to do this…" Stark says.
"What did he do to you?" I ask him.
"In 2012, he sent Loki to earth, to destroy it. Now I know, it wasn't Loki's fault. it was Thanos, it was Always him…"
_ A few minutes later, a Boy also is on the ship. Tony is mad at him, because the Boy was supposed to be everywhere else, just not here. I don't think it was a mistake, he is useful, he just killed that Alien. Suddenly we get attacked by some People called the Guardians of the Galaxy. _
_ Turns out, they thought we'd work for Thanos. They also want to kill Thanos, because Thanos took Gamora. Whoever that is, they want her back. _
_ They also told me, Thor is alive. _
_ I'm glad that Bruce was wrong, when he said, everybody on the Asgardian ship is dead now. They said, he is getting a new Weapon, a Weapon that can kill Thanos. He's Fighting on earth when he gets the Weapon. _
_ So, now I'm gonna kill Thanos, go back to earth, and then, I don't know. Maybe we'll find the other half of Asgard. We'll figure it out. _
_ And now, I'm here. I'm on Titan, waiting for Thanos. _
8. Going for the head
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The final chapter! Now we see, how it ends.
Thor's POV:
"Bring me Thanos!"
_I finally got the new Weapon. A Weapon that can kill Thanos. I can avenge Asgard and my brother._
_I don't know what happened to Carol, but I hope she is okay._
_Looks like Thanos isn't here yet. He must be trying to get other stones._
_But when he comes to get the mind stone, I will kill him._
_For now, I at least can kill some aliens._
* * * * *
Carol's POV:
"Just for record, that was my plan."
_Will this Quill idiot ever shut up? We got Thanos. He can't move. Mantis holds him back with her powers._
_Tony and the kid almost got it off. Some others and I are holding Thanos, so he can't move._
"So where is Gamora?" Quill asks Thanos.
"Hey, it's not the right time for Questions!" I tell him.
_He ignores me. Stupid! If we lose it's his fault!_
_Or at least, it's not mine._
"Thanos took her to Vormir, and came back with the soulstone, but without Gamora." Nebula says.
"What?" Quill says and looks a bit worried.
"I don't think, we will see Gamora again…" Nebula says, and looks sad.
_Shit!_
_I don't think this ends good._
_He loves her, and it looks like she's murdered and her murderer is right infront of him._
"Okay Quill, calm down." Tony says.
"No, no you didn't!" Quill says, ignoring Tony.
"Quill! WE ALMOST GOT IT OFF!" Tony shouts. |
ea8a940ed3f541608c1d9a7aa4822bde | ['bfae333abe8c4dedab201ece4ff7697b'] |
1. Chapter 1
The sound of people talking on the busy street filled up a young male's hearing as he carefully had his full gaze on his phone, today for him would be a fantastic day, well he hoped it would be. His eyes of dark brown color slowly saw two messages in which both had 'I am almost there. Sorry for being late.'
"I hate you both more than I hate myself.'' The mumbling of the lazy male clearly meant his two friends had irritated him by their messages.
'It has been three years since I've last seen either of you and I sure as hell know you assholes will be in for a surprise today, which I guess can make up for you two being late.' While thinking of this two tall, worn out males sat beside him breathing heavily not even noticing how it was three of them and not just two. The shortest of the group merely chuckled not bothering, of course, to open his eyes, he already knew these two.
"Amazing how you decided to be late today, even after I reminded you that today would be a special day"
"Luna, I just came here last night! I am jet lagged, how the hell did you expect me to be here at 9 am?!"
One of the three looked up seeing the stranger that had spoken to Luna, clearly surprised he spoke up as well.
"Uh hello, have we met? "
"Karms, I want you to meet my friend Ben, and Ben meet Karms'' The lazy of the three slowly stood after introducing them to one another.
Ben glanced at Karms, slowly analyzing him to see what type of person he would be or could be. Karms did not smile at Ben but, instead offered a hand to him, mostly to be polite. Luna carefully watched them shake hands but still glancing at one another. Now that Ben and Karms had met, somewhat, Luna could drag them around in the cold city and force them to speak to each other. Carefully, Luna tugged on both of the older males scarfs to get their attention to tell them his plans. Ben looked up first followed by Karms, who smacked Luna for tugging, waiting for the shortest to speak.
"Okay! So, now that you two have shaken hands let's go for coffee!"
"Eww Luna no, I hate coffee you know this. I am not stepping foot in a coffee place, so you either take me to get tea or I will take you to get tea." Karms gave Luna one of those 'do not fight me on this' looks, knowing he was not giving in to Luna's demands.
" Sorry, Luna I also do not want coffee, but hot chocolate sounds good right now."
Luna mumbled something lowly before flipping them the bird and walking away to a Starbucks across the street. Karms shook his head at the stubborn male, but he refused to give into him or his coffee needs.
"To believe I managed to handle that stubborn short ass."
"You sure have a nice humor man. I had to deal with that gay shit when he was Yeci. But he is not that bad, he just.. is very uh reckless with feelings." Ben patted Karms smiling a bit before going to the short male.
"Besides!" Ben looked over, "We are probably the only two who he bothered to keep around in his life, even if he did ignore us as teens. Now hurry! Or he might get you the wrong tea."
"Hey, Wait up!! " The redhead yelled but ran to catch up with Ben, mostly to get the right order of tea.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------
Until next time
2. Three Layers
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> small description of how I see my friends
Sometimes people question how these three became friends, mostly these people were their school friends, but even the three of them did not know how they survived one another. One was always on his phone cussing out every media post while blasting his music not caring. Meanwhile the other would be searching the deep web while doing realistic art pieces, then there was Karms the silent reading a god damn book relaxed one unless disturbed. So we have the loud, obnoxious one, the artist, and the silent but deadly one.
One would dance to electro music in his room with the door closed to avoid being caught by the others. He also did it because he was embarrassed to dance with someone watching his moves, his other reason was body problems he was extremely self-conscious. The second one would much rather be outside sometimes instead of being on his computer all day. He would go on dates with the person dear to him enjoying what the world had to offer. He tried to make room for everyone, of course, he had time for everyone in his mind and heart. The last one had a more closed world where he would try to solve somethings on his own. He had amazing knowledge. That knowledge took years of effort and listening. His effort would pay off in the future. No one truly knows how he spent his free time maybe with friends? Pets? Or himself? It was a mystery indeed, but who doesn't like a mysterious friend?
They belonged to three different worlds that had maybe a few things in common, but not a lot. Luna, Ben, and Karms did not care if others did not see their friendship as a thing, as long as they knew it was a thing then, it was fine. Sure once or twice they snapped at the rude comments others made from time to time. Mostly the one that would snap would be Luna since his temper was very easy to provoke, especially during school due to his lack of knowing self-control.
Most of the questions about how they were friends were because of behavior. Two of the three were very calm. They were very settled only fighting if they needed to, but the third one was just a drama queen. He always wanted to strangle someone or just pester for his sadistic pleasure. All his friends asked him 'how the hell do they handle you?' Which his reply would be a frown followed by a smirk then a very sarcastic answer of 'they love me that's why.' But in reality, he was bluffing because deep down he asked himself the same question. His arrogant pride refused to let him ask them though. Ben would obviously not mind answering how he dealt with him and Karms would try to flip the question by saying 'why do you listen to your friends? I thought you did not care what people say.' That would lead to a tsundere break out by Luna who would try to change the topic quickly to avoid the question.
One kept the positive image of the group by being a meme all the time. The other used knowledge to keep them looking smart in a way. The third one was the one who would cling to them both being a tsundere and afraid to lose them. Ever heard of the expression, The Skies, The Earth, and Hell are three people? Well, this applied to them in Luna's eyes Ben was the skies who kept things bright. Karms was earth, who had a balance of dark and light. Luna was darkness meaning he was hell. But these opinions were his meaning the labels were wrong or right. No matter what though each would be the sky, earth, or hell. They were the three layers that needed to be together despite their differences. | 162da85b597f45c3b8de82e26f5a26af | ['bfae333abe8c4dedab201ece4ff7697b'] |
1. The Perfect Is Never Without Flaw
**Author's Note:**
> I spent at least a hour struggling to fine the correct wording of this one-shot but I like ho it turned out to be.
Ren and the others sat in the council room waiting for the usually punctuation Asano Gakushuu or as Ren called him, orange top, however there was no sign of the beloved orange head in the room. They waited for a few more minutes and finally he came in the cold stern look written all over his face but Ren could see the facade something had happened he could still see the tear stains on his face.
"Alright let's get this meeting on" he spoke with the fake confidence
-time-skip-
Time went by really fast for Ren now everyone was packing up getting ready to head to lunch everyone but Gakushuu who in fact just pulled out a study book and began to study it over and over. A soft sigh left Ren's lip as he realized the perfect Gakushuu was back and the one from earlier had left, possibly stored up with the rest of Gakushuu's emotions. But he wanted to know what had made Gakushuu upset enough to arrive late to the meeting so he took a fat chance and walked over to him sitting next to him.
"Hey Gakushuu... can I talk to you about something?"
"....."
"Gaku? Hey I know you can hear me. Don't be stubborn"
"...."
Ren frowned but stared at the orange head knowning very well he would have to look at him unless... of course!
"Gakushuu Are you a magician because everytime I see you everyone disappears"
" You are a idiot...."
"Your ass is so nice that it is a shame that you have to sit on it"
"Ren if you do NOT stop..."
The orange head finally put the study book down glaring at Ren with furious eyes. But Ren knew what would wipe that glare off HIS Gakushuu's face so he leaned in close to him making Gakushuu completely drop his guard.
"baby your lips look so lonely... would they like to join mines?"
Gakushuu's eyes widen but his cheeks were a different shade now. His eyes looked at Ren before he coughed awkwardly trying his best to get his guard back up so Ren wouldn't strike again.
"Roses are red and violets are blue there's nothing in the world more prettier than you"
Finally he looked at him now facade gone replaced with a sort of sadness like but Ren knew this wasn't a fake look of his no this was actually him showing an emotion. It pained him to see him this way he should by no know even perfection has a flaw but flaws were what made people humans.
"My father is just upset and we had a long talk about how much of a failure I became for letting Karma rank first. I guess I didn't study hard enough so he said I have to increase my study sessions to at least 7 or more hours a day"
"But Gakushuu this was just a once in a life time thing. You literally are perfection why can't he see that? Tell me... did he hit you this time?"
"No..."
He dropped the conversation there because he knew a simple answer meant Gakushuu didn't want to continue the topic so instead he left and went to get him a drink from the vending machine. Upon his return he saw how focused Gakushuu looked while he as reading a book now instead of the study book. He didn't notice he as staring until those violet eyes looked as his but instead of a cold stone glare it had a small smile, a smile that he knew way too well, the smile that said 'thank you'.
"so how about a kiss to your boyfriend of 5 months?"
"You just had to kill the moment..."
A laugh escaped his mouth as he walked over and gave the flustered Gakushuu a kiss on the corner of his lips but Gakushuu moved his head towards his and kissed him softly. For a brief moment it was just them and the sweet kiss and finally just finally did Asano Gakushuu realize that Ren was right about perfection having a flaw but thanks to that flaw he was a human and not a soulless creature, a human who's heart belonged to Ren Sakakibara.
2. Harley X Joker (KarmaGisa AU)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A small au of Joker and Harley as Karma and Nagisa. Also, they resemble the Suicide Squad Joker And Harley
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey! I doubt anyone reads this but I'm updating??
**Of The Cries of Gotham**
The sound of water dripping echoed in the room as a male dressed in shorts, net-like leggings, ripped shirt with a jacket sat in the broken down building, those blue were lost in thought as he watched a green-red haired male beat a civilian up. The cackles that left Joker would have scared anyone but the old psychologist held and had no fear of the crazy, bloodthirsty criminal before him. After all, he was the one he was madly in love with and would definitely give his life for without another thought.
"Puddin' are you almost done? I'm bored.. play with me now!" The dyed haired male pouted making Joker look over now.
"Don't be greedy now Harls... you know what happens" He snapped. |
d95a5715d02e49e2854055ea4b66e0cc | ['bfb5cbd7e416494e8ae1e6985b924a3f'] | He cleverly decides to put on a shirt before heading out to the kitchen. Derek isn’t sure if he hears Stiles humming a tune first or sees him shaking his hips while cooking but he doesn’t have time to contemplate because Stiles shifts his head towards him and gives him his fullest smile.
“Good morning, Sourwolf. Did ya sleep well?” Stiles _winks_ at him.
Derek is so flabbergasted; he does what he usually does and just grunts.
“Based on my experience with your nonverbal cues, I’ll take that as a yes?” Stiles places the finished pancakes on a plate, “Breakfast is served! You better eat.”
They sit down at the table and for a second, Derek just stares at the abundance of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausages…he didn’t even know he had all of that in his fridge. And it’s then that he remembers to ask, “How did you get into my apartment?”
Stiles freezes mid-chew, “I shorda..,” swallows the rest of his bite, continues, “I sorta made a copy of the key? Which I would only use for pack related purposes.” He has a sheepish grin on his face that is kind of adorable.
But Derek is still quite confused, “So why did you come over…yesterday?”
Stiles stares at him. “You don’t remember, do you?”
He shakes his head, apprehensively.
“You left a few voicemail messages on my phone but when I called back you wouldn’t answer.”
“Oh my -,” Derek has the urge to bang his head on the table, “I drunk dialed you. It was good that you weren’t there to answer. Hope I didn’t say anything too stupid.”
Stiles gives him a tiny smirk, “I’ll let you listen to them later.”
He grumbles about how kids these days don’t have the common decency to delete alcohol-induced messages.
“Why don’t you want to be sexy?” Stiles asks in all seriousness.
He stills. He might have said a lot more than he thinks he did when he tried to call him. Might as well tell him the truth. “I finally went see a therapist, as per everyone's nagging, but after _expressing_ myself and talking about my _feelings_ all I got was a ‘you need to be tortured otherwise everything is too sexy for you’. Therapy isn’t my thing.”
“You can be really unsexy sometimes.”
Derek tilts his head, “I can?”
“Yeah, when you’re all wolfed out,” Stiles nods, “That permanent ‘I smell a nasty fart’ expression isn’t flattering.”
He promptly adorns that look, his grin showing off his white fangs, “What, this look?”
“And you don’t deserve to be tortured,” he continues, “In life…It’s…maybe we are only dealt what we can handle. Um…that sounds a bit harsh...how about, we’re stronger than we think? After being possessed by an evil fox spirit…," Stiles chuckles dryly, "I knew what I did, I still remember everything that happened, the pain I caused…the deaths. I didn’t think I could get over that but I had the pack, my dad, you…it made it easier to believe that I could get through this.”
Derek feels the familiar ache in his heart and the tightness in his throat. He wants to comfort Stiles, ease away the smell of hurt wafting from him but –
All of sudden, Stiles is in front of him. He’s cupping his face with those hands that Derek has trouble looking away from, except now he’s forced to look at those beautiful brown eyes and hear the words coming out of those nicely-shaped lips.
“You don’t have to be alone in this, Derek. You have us, you…have me.”
Stiles leans slowly towards him and maybe they meet halfway but it doesn’t matter because their lips are touching, moving against each other in the sweetest kiss. For once he doesn’t feel the anger that is always there underneath the surface, he forgets the resentment over how his life has turned out because all he can really feel is the beginning, stirrings of joy and love. It’s been too long since it felt real and he might always be too nervous to be ready but he needs, wants this. So Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’ waist, pulls him into his lap and lets all of his bottled up feelings out into kisses and touches, knowing that Stiles will understand.
He always has.
-
**1st voicemail:** Stiiiiiiiiiles, I’m too sexy for your love. Too sexy for your loooove. So sexy it hurts.
**2nd voicemail:** It really hurts. Stiles’ going to leave me. Pleeeeeeease don’t leave me.
**3rd voicemail:** Stiiiiles, I don’t…I don’t wanna be a sexy, failwolf anymore. I’m tired of being sexy. So tired. | 56bd113ad0e4480dadb1cd169e697a5f | ['bfb5cbd7e416494e8ae1e6985b924a3f'] |
A Toy Pack Tale
**Author's Note:**
> I was planning on writing about (non-toy) dragon Derek but somehow got this idea instead. Hope it's not too cheesy (it is though, omg). I might make changes to this and/or the title.
“You want _Barney_?” a kid asks incredulously.
Derek barely manages to stop his eyes from twitching. It is hard to be the perfect toy and remain still when everyone keeps confusing you with a certain purple dinosaur. Just because he has a purple coat, more stuffing than necessary and can sing the ‘I Love You’ song…okay, so he can understand the misperception. However, he has always been and always will be a dragon. A dragon who currently wants to glare and growl at _someone_ in particular yet can’t because he is on a table with other ‘For Sale’ objects. It’s good that the price tag is a piece of paper attached to a loose string around his neck and not those sticky ones they slap on you; those things itch.
“Barney is a dinosaur, Scott. That toy is a dragon,” another boy corrects. Now this is a first. No one has called Derek that since-
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Dragons have wings, Stiles. _That_ doesn’t!”
He used to have wings but then they were ripped off by the girl he thought loved him. He was her favorite toy, with her since she was a baby and she was a relatively good kid – also the first one he knew - until she started liking _stupid_ Barney. Except, when her parents didn’t give her what she wanted, she decided to turn Derek into what she wanted. She didn’t even pretend to put him to sleep before she tore off his purple wings, horns and stuffed him with more filling, in addition to her voice-recorded version of ‘I Love You’. Up until then he always believed that he made her happy. Sometimes he even thinks that the process of being modified hurt less than the fact that it was _her_ doing it.
He tries not to think about that, though. Contrary to popular belief, wingless dragons do not make dinosaurs.
“Look at its spine. And here!” the Stiles kid points. Derek almost flinches. “There’s stitching. Someone must have taken his wings off. Hey, doesn’t it look like the dragon I got last year?”
Derek freezes.
Well, more than he has been.
The thing that is worse than being brutally mutilated by someone he loved was having to see her burn his family. When she grew older, she came home from school one day, took the box full of dragon plushies from the attic and made a bonfire out of them, with help from her friends. Derek didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late and all he could do was watch from the window of her upstairs bedroom, unable to stop it. He ran away that night and kept running (he didn’t want to be anyone’s toy again) but regret eventually weighed him down. They were trapped inside that box while…he should have tried to do something. Derek was lying on the road, planning on being run over by a truck, when someone grabbed him and he found himself in this yard sale.
He tries not to think about that either. There probably aren’t any toy dragons that look like him.
“Maybe. But Stiiiiiiles, it still looks like Barney. A scary Barney.” A finger pokes Derek’s belly.
Oh no. “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won’t you say you love me too.”
“Hmm…weird,” Stiles picks Derek up gently and pushes his thumbs on his green tummy.
“I love you, you love me, we're best friends like friends should be, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too.”
“Dude, that’s creepy,” the Scott kid whispers.
Derek agrees. He and other Barneys are most likely the only toys that should come with a ‘Do _Not_ Press Me’ sticker.
“Yeah…”
Silence.
“Mooom, I want this one!”
-
Derek is surprised that someone bought him; dirty, disfigured and disturbing him. What is even more surprising is Stiles playing with him on the car ride home, animating every movement with sound effects and words. Derek is being held up, moved in smooth swirls and turns, as if he is actually flying through the air like a dragon would. He tries not to get lost in the feeling, especially since he probably won’t be here for long. Eventually the kid will realize that he is just a useless toy.
They reach the house quicker than expected. As soon as the car is parked, Stiles runs inside with Derek swinging from his hand and starts heading up the stairs.
“…Stilinski, where do you think you’re going?” the mom calls, her voice more clear as she comes closer to the bottom of the steps.
Stiles pauses. “Going to my room to play with my new toy?”
“You can do that after dinner.”
“But Mom!”
“You heard your Mother, Stiles. Leave your toy upstairs and come down for dinner,” the dad says.
The boy sighs but continues up the steps, leaving his parents chatting behind.
“I wish you would use his real name.”
“You know that it’s hard for me to pronounce, Claudia.”
-
Derek waits until the door closes before he stands up on the bed and stretches. Pretending to be lifeless all day would make anyone feel stiff and sore. As he’s looking around the room he realizes that while there are comic books, a video game console, and a few posters on the walls (one of which is of a dragon), there are no visible toys. Maybe there is a toy chest somewhere that he’s not seeing.
“Derek!”
He turns around to see-
“Laura?” |
a56feac38c414158997cc751635ee5cd | ['bfc01c6a8abc4ea2b988d38833ae0b47'] | “Okay, brats, you all get into groups of three and explore the place. I don’t really give a damn just meet at the front door by 2:30.” Then he walked off with Professor Hanji. Everyone got into groups of three and began exploring the aquarium. Armin grabbed Eren and Mikasa’s arms and dragged them to a exhibit of penguins. His eyes lit up as he looked at the flightless birds.
“These are African penguins. They live to be ten to fifteen years in the wild and live to mid to late twenties in captivity, and they live around the southernmost coast of Africa,” he said looking at the penguins. Eren fondly smiled at him. Armin began to look around then grabbed Eren and Mikasa again dragging them to another exhibit.
After a hour of being dragged around they agreed to have a bathroom break. Armin sat outside the bathrooms tapping his foot impatiently and checking his watch.
“Come on, guys! It’s already 12:46!” he shouted in the direction of the bathrooms, “We haven’t even gotten to see any of the sharks yet,” he mumbled mostly to himself. Mikasa and Eren emerged from the bathrooms. Armin began dragging to the shark exhibit and spouting knowledge about the creatures while doing so.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When 2:30 came around everyone was at the front door of the aquarium. Eren and Mikasa both looking exhausted while Armin stood there smiling.
“Jaeger, you look more like shit then usual,” Jean smirked. Eren looked at him and flipped him off. Mr. Ackerman ignored them and did a head count.
“Okay, get on the bus everyone,” everyone groaned.
“When are we having lunch?” Sasha complained loudly.
“As soon as you brats get on the bus,”
“Come on, guys! Get your asses in gear!” Sasha yelled running onto the bus. Connie ran after her shouting.
“You heard the lady!” everyone began getting on the bus and back into the seats they had before. When Armin and Eren returned to the bus, they found Jean comfortably resting his feet on their seat, legs strewn across the aisle.
“Jean, move your fuckng legs. I’m too exhausted to deal with your shit,” Eren said, sending an exhausted glare towards Jean.
Jean snorted and shook his head. “I’m not moving my legs for you, fucktard,”
Eren acted as if he was going to punch Jean then sighed, “I’m too tired to deal with your shit,” Eren grumbled and promptly sat on his legs. Armin followed in suit.
“Holy shit, Eren you’re going to break my legs with your fatass!” Jean said, his face twisted in a pain filled expression.
Eren smirked “Are you going to move them?” Jean nodded. Eren and Armin stood up and Jean moved his legs. Eren and Armin both sat down. After everyone had settled down Professor Hanji did a head count. Once she finished she went back to the front of the bus and sat with Mr. Ackerman. The bus began moving again in search of a cheap fast food place for a late lunch.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After everyone had eaten their lunch, Sasha had told everyone to crowd into the very back of the bus. Everyone gave the brunette a confused look. “I’ll explain why then, okay?” They nodded and began throwing away their garbage.
“Everyone finished eating?” Professor Hanji said in her usual enthusiastic tone. Once everyone had given her their affirmation she began speaking again. “Okay so let’s get back to the bus and get you guys home,” the were choruses of “Finally”s and “About time”s.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone had followed Sasha’s orders and sat in the back. After another headcount from Mr. Ackerman, everyone turned to face Sasha.
“Okay you have us all back here what do you want?” Jean asked. Sasha smiled and motioned for them to come closer.
“Truth or dare?” she said dramatically. A few people groaned and went back to their old seats Armin, Eren, Jean, Marco, Mikasa, and Connie stayed. “I’ll start,” said Sasha “Truth or dare, Mikasa?”
“Truth,” she replied stoically. Sasha tapped her chin in thought, and suddenly her eyes lit up.
“Have ever had a crush on anyone here?”
“Yes,” she said with calmly. Everyone looked at each other trying to figure out who, they quickly gave up knowing she wouldn’t tell. “My turn?” she asked. Sasha nodded. “Okay, truth or dare, Connie?”
“Dare!” he replied excitedly. Mikasa thought for a second.
“I dare you exchange shirts with the person to right,” she said, smirking slightly. Connie and Sasha looked at each other, then at their shirts.
“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Sasha said looking down at her white button-up. Connie made a noise in agreement. Sasha began unbuttoning her shirt.
Connie spluttered. “What are you doing?!” he shouted.
“What? I have a tank top under this,” she said going back to unbuttoning her shirt. Once she was done Connie quickly took his off and they switched. Connie’s shirt was a little big on Sasha while Sasha’s shirt was a little small on Connie but it fit.
“Don’t you look pretty, Connie?” Jean said, snickering. Connie gave him the finger. The others laughed.
“Okay, Connie, it’s your turn,” Sasha said.
“Truth or dare, Eren?”
“Dare,” he said in a challenging manner. Connie and Sasha looked at each other and smirked at each other evilly. Eren immediately regretted his decision. “Wait, I chan-,” they interrupted him.
“No backsies!” they shoutted. Eren held his hands up in a defensive manner.
“Okay, okay,” he said, “What’s my dare?”
“Your dare is to kiss one of the people on this bus,” Connie said smiling maniacally.
“Okay,” Eren said nonchalantly. He turned to his right and kissed Armin on the cheek. Armin flushed a deep red.
“That wasn’t a kiss,” Jean said, rolling his eyes. Eren narrowed his eyes at Jean.
“Fine, I’ll show you a kiss,” Eren quickly cupped Armin’s face in his hands and kissed him. Armin squeaked in surprise but kissed him back. Eren’s hands let go of Armin’s face and went around his waist. The blond followed in suit, putting his arms around Eren’s neck. The onlookers catcalled and whistled, to which Eren replied with taking a hand off Armin’s waist and giving them the finger. They broke the kiss and rested their foreheads together looking deeply into each others eyes. Everyone else turned away from the two to give them some privacy. The blue eyed teen’s face was flushed a bright shade of crimson, while Eren was smiling smugly.
“So, uh,” Armin stuttered while Eren laughed softly, “Shut up you smug shit,” Armin said smiling Eren’s smile grew.
“Okay, you like me,” Armin nodded, “And I like you. So, be my boyfriend?”
“Yes, idiot,” Armin said kissing him again. | 5611509ec5c748df9c26473720e57a78 | ['bfc01c6a8abc4ea2b988d38833ae0b47'] |
Lovely School Trip
**Author's Note:**
> I was inspired to write this after my school went to Cumberland Island on October 15th, 2014 We drove in charter buses to get there and this happened in my mind while trying to fall asleep so I decided to write it down. EDIT: Wow just started writing this again it’s now June 6th, 2015. Oops?
> And thank you my beta OpaliceWolf find her here on tumblr
> http://opalicewolf.tumblr.com/
> And please for give me for the none indenting AO3 hates me.
Armin was basically bouncing in his seat as everyone else was getting on the bus. Eren, who was tired and sleepy like everyone else, besides Armin, was sitting next to the blond. Eren stared sleepily at Armin wondering how someone could be so energetic at four thirty-five in the morning, but this was Armin we are talking about he gets energetic at the mention of sea creatures, and now, being able to finally see them in person on a school field trip, well let’s just say Eren was surprised Armin didn’t run all the way to the aquarium.
Armin looked at him “Aren’t you excited Eren! We’re going to see so many aquatic creatures I couldn’t begin to name the all of them!” Mr. Ackerman, who looked like he had been through hell and back, glared at Armin because of how loud he was being, and it was obvious the man had a headache Eren felt bad for the man for once. Armin did get carried away a lot. The blond didn’t notice and kept talking about the sea animals.
“Arlert!” Armin stopped talking and looked at Mr. Ackerman.
“Yes, sir?” Armin asked.
“Stop you’re damn yammering while I do a head count.”
“Yes, sir.” Armin sat quietly in his seat while Mr. Ackerman called out students’ names.
“Mikasa Ackerman?”
“Here.”
“Jean Kirstein?”
“Here,” as he continued to call out names Eren tuned him out. After Mr. Ackerman finished calling out names he went back to his seat at the very front of the bus with Professor Hanji who probably talked his ear off. Once Mr. Ackerman was out of earshot Armin began talking about sea creatures again. Eren’s eyes slowly started drooping as Armin talked with his soft, calm, excited voice and before he knew it he had fallen asleep.
Armin looked over at Eren and smiled slightly. This happens often. Armin will be on a rant of some sort and Eren will fall asleep. Armin blushed a little noticing that Eren had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Armin has had a crush on Eren for the longest time, deciding that he should probably go to sleep if he wanted to be wide awake for the aquarium, Armin put his head on top of Eren’s and went to sleep.
Mikasa glanced behind her at her two best friends asleep with their heads on top of each other’s. She smiled slightly she could tell they both liked each more than best friends. She, for the past year, had been trying to get them to admit their feelings to each other with no success. They both we’re too oblivious to tell that the other like each other so she hope someday something would happen that would get them to admit their feelings.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Armin awoke to the bus suddenly coming to a stop. Lifting his head and rubbing his eyes he looked around and saw that most of the students were still asleep including a certain dark haired boy sitting next him. Armin felt the bus start moving again he looked out the window and saw that they had stopped at a red light. He slowly removed a book from his bag careful not to wake the boy asleep on his shoulder. Armin succeeded and opened his book to the page he left off on.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
People started to slowly wake up in the bus including the boy asleep on Armin’s shoulder. Rubbing his eyes and lifting his head, Eren looked around, confused for a second, then he remembered where he was. He looked at Armin who was engrossed in his book.
“What are you reading?” Eren asked. Armin jumped not noticing that Eren had awakened.
“Oh, um, just a book about the ocean.”
Eren nodded, “Hey, Armin, can I lay my head in lap? Leaning my head on your shoulder kind of hurts my neck” Armin lightly blushed.
“Y-yeah sure” Eren laid his head on Armin’s lap and put his feet in the unoccupied seat across from them. Eren had finally started to go back to sleep when suddenly Jean hit his leg.
“Move your legs, asshole, I have to piss.”
“Just step over them horse face.” Jean glared at Eren and kicked his legs.
“Ow!” Eren sat up and kicked Jean in the shin. Jean grabbed his shin in pain and lifted his fist about to punch Eren when Mikasa grab his fist.
“Stop fighting both of you. Eren move your legs.” Eren reluctantly moved his legs and let Jean pass. He sat in his chair correctly, crossed his arms and mumbled profanities under his breath. Jean passed by and went back to his seat beside Marco and started talking to the freckle faced teen. Armin began reading again as Eren played a game on his phone.
Armin glanced up from his book for a second and saw the aquarium come into view, and the blond excitedly shook Eren’s arm.
“What?” Armin pointed to the aquarium. “Oh, cool.” Eren put up his phone while Armin bookmarked the page he was on. They parked and everyone started to get off. Once everybody was off Mr. Ackerman began talking. |
68a3fb5119564e96ac65c90469c05ae4 | ['bfceffddd0624acfbb35df23b2983030'] | “Alright, attention hog. Get out so we can do whatever it is Peter has planned. Go bother someone else.” T’Challa grinned and waved over his shoulder at Peter and Harley.
“Nice to meet you both. Be careful with Shuri-“
“Honestly, I think she’ll have to be careful with us.” Harley drawled, looking bored. “I’m pretty sure we’re the ones who’ll be hiding when she gets ahold of the batter-blender.”
“Probably. Good luck!” Shuri rolled her eyes and looked at the two boys.
“Where’s my apron?” She asked, and Peter handed it to her gingerly. She put it over her head and tied it. “So I get ‘Day’? Why do I get the boring one?”
“Because you’re a princess and we mere mortals need a confidence boost every once in a while.” Harley explained. He turned to Peter. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so start explaining before I jump out the window.”
“Big Dick Energy.” Shuri said, nodding. Peter burst out laughing.
“You’re like, the coolest!” He said, then nodded. “Okay, FRIDAY, let’s get this show on the road.”
Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Pepper was going on and on about some merger with some company involving some kind of clean energy sources.
“Didn’t I make you CEO for this?” He asked. She gave him a stern glare.
“It’s still your name on the paperwork. So shut up, listen and sign.” He sighed again and grabbed the pen. His blind trust in Pepper handling the business side of things surprised him almost as much as it surprised her. Handing over the reigns wasn’t easy for him, and she knew it.
“Are we almost done? I feel like I’m one signature away from dying of an aneurysm.” Pepper rolled her eyes.
“Alright drama queen, I-“ She received a message on her phone and smiled. Tony couldn’t see it, but the live video, though silent, was a sight to see. She decided it was a good time to end Tony’s misery. “Okay, I think we can be done for the night.”
“Thank God.” He groaned. He stood up, cracking his back. He walked to the elevator, then noticed Pepper wasn’t behind him. “Um, Pepper? Elevator’s this way.”
“Yeah, I’ll be up in a bit. Just gonna finish filing these real quick.” He nodded dumbly. She could propose he give all his wealth to a charity right now and he’d probably sign off on it.
“Alright Pep, don’t be too long. Can’t go to sleep in an empty bed.” He grumbled. She smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“You won’t, I promise.” If Tony were more awake he’d probably wonder about that glint, but as it was he didn’t quite care at the moment. He stepped in the elevator.
“Penthouse, FRIDAY.” The AI began sending him upwards, and he blew out a breath of relief as he walked out.
Then immediately sucked it back in.
In front of him was a sight to see. Peter was covered in flour, head to toe, while- Harley?- was smiling and covered something in frosting. Shuri- what the hell?- was singing into an icing bag and twirling around the boys.
“I can't get no satisfaction!” Shuri sang, and Peter leaned over to her make-shift microphone.
“No satisfaction!” He yelled, and the laughed as Shuri put a blob of icing on Harley’s cheek.
“Harley can’t get no-“ Shuri squealed as Harley wiped the icing off his cheek and onto hers.
“Harley did get some-“ He began and Peter jumped on the counter, a whisk in his hand.
“Satisfaction!” He screamed, grinning so wide Tony thought his face might split open. He jumped down and finished off with Shuri, singing in the same whisk.
“No satisfaction!” They screamed.
“No satisfaction!” Harley yelled with the three of them, then they all laughed, real, head thrown back laughed. Tony’s heart swelled. Here were these kids, who had faced so much in their short lives, singing and dancing in his kitchen like they didn’t have a care in the world.
“What are you doing?” Tony raised an eyebrow. All three kids jumped, looking like they’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter yelled, stammering. “You- your meeting-“
“Pep ended it a little early.” He said, then raised an eyebrow. “So, I’ll ask again- what are you all doing?”
Peter grinned and hurried forward, snatching the cake from Harley and moving forward. The other two followed, and in their position their aprons read ‘Happy Father’s Day!’. Tony choked a little at the sight.
“We decided to a little something for you.” Peter said, looking nervous all of sudden. He presented the cake to Tony, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh.
The cake was obviously supposed to be a circle, but it was so lumpy and strewed that it more resembled a blob than an actual shape. The was a small Iron Man figure, surrounded by crudely drawn stars and planets. In the center, in edible letter candy, it said, ‘You’re outta this world, Happy Father’s Day!’. Tony’s eyes burned with tears, and he shook his head to clear it.
“If you don’t like it-“ Harley cut Peter off.
“He’s processing his emotions; it’ll be a minute.” He said. Tony coughed.
“Well, you’re never getting on Cake Boss, that’s for sure.” He said, then grinned. He leaned a little closer, eyeing the planets. “You know there are nine-“
He didn’t finish because at that moment Shuri grabbed Tony’s head shoved it in the cake. He stuttered, and when he peeled away from the atrocity, his face and most of his suit was covered in icing and bits of the vanilla cake crumbs. He slowly wiped his eyes, then looked at the three kids who were obviously holding back laughter. | c5425a4bd26448368c72396e2c61912f | ['bfceffddd0624acfbb35df23b2983030'] | “Won’t let me buy you anything, but you’re willing to up the bounty on yourself when you get kidnapped.” Tony said. “You’re a strange kid.”
“Well, I’m glad you aren’t out any money. They were totally gonna kill me anyway.” Peter said lightly. Tony grabbed his shoulders again and met his eyes.
“Pete-“ He began. He took a deep breath. “Kid, I need you to know, I would give _everything_ \- my money, my cars, my entire _life_ it meant getting you safe. Understand?”
“Y-yeah.” Peter said, taken aback by the honesty. Tony nodded once then straightened.
“Alright, hit the emotional turmoil quota for the next week. Let’s get out of here.” Peter nodded gratefully. “We’ll get you those peas, too.”
“Thank _God_.” Peter grumbled. “Actually, it has to be carrots. There aren’t any peas in the Tower.”
“There aren’t?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head.
“No, cause Sam is allergic and no one trusts Clint or Bucky not to slip them to him anyways.”
“Jesus.” Tony huffed. “When did this become my life.”
“I ask myself that question everyday, old man.” Peter said. “Hey, can I catch a ride?”
Tony rolled his eyes, wrapped his arms around Peter underneath his arm pits and flew upwards.
_This is really my life,_ he thought as he carried a 15-year-old away from a kidnapping scene.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm a slut for domestic, not fucked-up anymore Bucky Barnes baking, okay?
>
> Also, I love Peter and Shuri teaming up and being insufferable together. I need them to meet in the MCU before I die or I'm going after the Russo's.
Nothing could really surprise Peter in the Avengers Tower.
It wasn’t unusual to walk into the common room and see a deadly archer playing Jenga with an android or into the gym to witness a huge, amped up version of paintball. So, it took a lot to surprise Peter at this point.
Then it happened.
At precisely 3:05 Peter entered the Tower with Happy. The older man clapped Peter’s shoulder with a small smile ( ~~mild~~ ~~grimace~~ ) and walked off to do something security related. Peter still wasn’t sure exactly what role Happy played in the company, or was _supposed_ to play in the company.
Then again, there was a lot Peter didn’t know about SI.
The place where he was an intern.
He _really_ needed to talk with Mrs. Potts and visit the R&D level.
So Peter skipped his way to the elevator and smiled as the doors closed.
“Good afternoon Peter.” FRIDAY greeted him. “How was school?”
“Hey FRI! It was good, thanks.” He said, grin still planted on his face. “I aced my chemistry test and I _know_ I impressed my robotics teacher with the bot Mr. Stark and I designed last week!”
“That’s wonderful to hear, Peter.” The AI replied. Peter loved FRIDAY- she was artificial intelligence, yes, but she was also kind of like a distant aunt that’s always around and doting, but also no one really knows where she came or half the things she does. _Vodka aunt_ , his brain supplied.
“I can’t wait to tell Mr. Stark! Is he in his lab?”
“It appears Boss has retired to the communal area.” Peter squinted.
“Coffee break?” He asked.
“Most likely.” She answered. Peter shook his head. He really wished Tony would take better care of himself. He’d gotten better once Peter was there to guilt him into doing better, but puppy-dog eyes could only go so far. “Boss also has a surprise for you.”
“He does?” Peter wondered. A surprise? He backtracked and checked the date. No, not a birthday. Internship anniversary? No, that sounded stupid even to him. “Can you bring me to him?”
“Of course Peter.” FRIDAY began raising him up, level after level, until he reached the communal area. It was empty save for-
“Shuri?” Peter exclaimed. The princess was lounging on the couch, eating chips and watching Netflix. She jumped up when she saw him.
“My favorite white boy!” She yelled and rushed forward into his arms. He hugged her back.
“Shuri, what are you doing here?” He asked. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here, really, I actually have _soooo_ much to fill you in on. Like, so much you wouldn’t believe-“
“Shuri is here because she needed a babysitter.” Tony supplied, strolling up to the duo and smiling over his mug of coffee.
“Babysitter?” Shuri raised an eyebrow. “You are familiar with the basic requirements of being a babysitter, right?”
“Um, yeah?” Tony scoffed, then began to tick his fingers. “One- no blowing things up intentionally. Two- don’t get into my liquor stash, I’ll kill you both. And three- no messing with my lab shit.”
“I hope your brother isn’t paying him.” Peter faux whispered. Tony raised an eyebrow.
“Watch that slang kid.” He said. “I can ground you- I _will_ ground you. Don’t be a little shit, and don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
“Ugh, that reminds me. I’m _starving_.” Peter complained, laying a hand on his stomach.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Tony asked. Peter shrugged.
“Lunch. But I didn’t eat a lot, cause it was meatloaf day and when you have a sense of smell like mine, you don’t even want to go _near_ the cafeteria.”
“Fair enough. Help yourself.” Tony said, walking towards the elevator. He said over his shoulder, “Once you’re done with homework and clearing out my cabinets come to the lab. I wanna show you guys something new I’m working on.”
“Okay Mr. Stark!” He said happily, then looked at Shuri. “You want some food?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?” Shuri asked. “Yes I want food you idiot.”
“God you sound just like MJ sometimes.” He said, and Shuri smiled. “No, you cannot meet her. Five minutes in and you two will literally be taking over the world and the rest of us would end up being your slaves.” |
ee5548b5da984f819cccba942431ea93 | ['bfe89503d69a47279d776e6f011c7cf9'] |
Call Me By My Name
**Author's Note:**
> Hi! This is my fic for the IDOLiSH7 Flash Bang! I strongly ship Gaku and Tsumugi from the series and really want them to have a happy ending! Warning: There are Part 3 spoilers in this fic and some rabbit chat content.
> Ramu/Jessica has been a wonderful partner to me, please check out her account for more great art!
“I think I really like you.”
Unexpected words that came from someone she has admired for a long time. Once again, Tsumugi was sitting in her room, in deep thought of what happened on that day. At the time, she was speechless. So many emotions were swirling inside her.
But there was no confusion in what she felt with Gaku’s next words.
“I will contact you less for the time being, so I don’t cause any trouble for you. I will also stop calling out to you when I see you around”
Tsumugi’s heart sank. Pain, sadness, guilt and desperation to reach out to him; she bottled it all up so that she wouldn’t trouble him anymore.
“Gaku-san…” She mumbles as a teardrop falls from her eye. Ever since the day Gaku told her how he felt about her, the distance between them had increased. As Gaku declared, he doesn’t contact her other than work anymore and he hardly talks to her even if they do see each other. But that’s not all that had changed. Gaku and Tsumugi both call each other by their last names now. Feeling the distance between them, Tsumugi has realized how much Gaku really means to her. Before she knew it, the feelings she holds for him had turned from admiration into something more. That is why she is thinking about him so much and why the grown distance between them is hurting her so. His straightforward and honest personality, the passion and effort he puts in his work, the gentle way he treats her and looks at her for what she is, she fell in love with all of him.
_I wish things could go back to the way they were before. I won’t ask for something as grand as being his lover or anything, but I wish I could close the distance between us. –_ With that thought, she falls asleep to end another melancholic day.
It’s been one month since TRIGGER won ‘Music of People’ and the idol group is making a strong recovery. With the amount of hard-work and passion they have, they proved that there is no obstacle they can’t overcome.
IDOLiSH7 and Re:Vale are also not to be left behind. IDOLiSH7 is having another collaboration event with TRIGGER and Re:Vale. This time, it’s a continuation for Ainana Police with Momo and Yuki as newcomers!
The first meeting is being held today at IDOLiSH7’s studio. It will be a short meeting where they will discuss their schedule for practice. Most members are already at the studio. A few minutes later, Momo and Yuki show up.
“Yo minna, hope you have been well!” Momo says with his usual cheerful voice.
“Momo-san, Yuki-san, we look forward to working with you!” Tsumugi straightens up and bows as she sees them arrive. The rest of IDOLiSH7 follows as well.
Soon after, TRIGGER enters. As soon as she notices Gaku and their eyes meet, Tsumugi’s heart skips a beat. But she forces herself to snap out of it.
“Evening, Takanashi-san. Looking forward to working together once again” Gaku greets Tsumugi in a formal manner.
_There it is again…”Takanashi-san”. I should be used to it. That’s the way it needs to be! I need to make sure I don’t show my emotions!_
“Yes, same goes for us, Yaotome-san” She bows, trying to hide the pain that might have showed on her face.
Gaku replies “Alright,” he replies with a sad, forced smile. Surely, he feels a similar pain as Tsumugi does. Maybe even more. He was the one who initiated to put distance between them. He knew it was the best way to protect her, but it still hurt.
Mitsuki, who is nearby notices the strained expressions the two of them had. He had been noticing his manager’s somber mood for the past month or so and judging by how the two of them had been acting, he realized that Gaku was involved. So, after the meeting, he decides to gather everyone but Gaku and Tsumugi to figure out what the others feel about the situation.
“Don’t you guys think there’s something off about the two of them lately?” Mitsuki starts.
Yamato contemplates. “Now that you mention it, I noticed both of them were trying to avoid eye contact with each other”
Ryunosuke get worried. “No way. Could they have gotten into a fight?”
Yuki shakes his head. “I doubt it. Both Gaku and Maneko-chan are considerate and understanding of each other. The reason most likely lies somewhere else.”
“…I think I know the reason”
All heads turn to the owner of the voice. “What might it be, Riku-kun? Please tell us” Sogo asks.
Riku hesitates but soon tells everyone what had happened before MOP. That Gaku likes Tsumugi and that they need to keep distance so that the press doesn’t take advantage of them.
Tenn sighs, “That idiot. He shows his feelings on his face so easily”
“OH! FORBIDDEN LOVE. How tragic!” Nagi exclaimed.
“I… want the manager to cheer up” says Tamaki.
Iori adds, “That is true. I-it’s not like I am worried about her or anything. But it might pose a problem if she can’t concentrate. Not only that, it might compromise her health”
“Aww, you should just be honest, Iori.” Riku playfully teases Iori as usual
Mitsuki makes a determined face and says “Yeah. It shouldn’t go on like this” | 7297aa6e4d554a799cb5099de3787b6a | ['bfe89503d69a47279d776e6f011c7cf9'] | “I know!” Momo exclaims. “Let’s make an opportunity for them to talk things out! I am sure the two of them want things to get better between them. For that, I think it would be best to convince Maneko-chan to change Gaku’s mind. Gaku is a gentleman after all so he won’t take the initiative unless he knows how she feels about the situation”
Yamato agrees, “That’s true. I guess I should work hard here. Leave the convincing to me. You guys think of a way to get the media’s eyes off them when they talk”
All: “Leave it to us!”
That day, Yamato confronts Tsumugi about the issue. Tsumugi apologizes for the fact that she worried everyone with her recent behaviour. Riku, who was concerned with how it would go jumps in to tell her that she has nothing to apologize for and that they all want her to be happy. Tsumugi, feeling so happy about the feelings of everyone decides to talk to Gaku after all. It might be a burden to him. It might make things harder for the both of them. But she knew that she needs to do this, for both their sakes.
A few days go by and the team works hard to make a suitable situation for them to talk. Re:vale suggests they use their studio for their next meeting and makes sure that the only people in the studio are members of IDOLiSH7, TRIGGER and Re:vale, along with their managers.
Tsumugi approaches Gaku after the meeting. She is nervous and scared, but her resolve is strong.
“Yao-, Gaku-san, may I have a moment with you?”
By instinct, Gaku looks around to make sure no reporters were to be seen. “S-sure, what is it?” He shows another strained smile.
“Let’s have some coffee at the cafeteria” She urges Gaku to follow her and they sit at the cafeteria ready to have their talk.
“What’s wrong, calling me to talk so formally?” Gaku asks curiously.
“I am sorry!” , Tsumugi lowers her head.
Gaku is no doubt surprised “W-what’s wrong, Takanashi-san?! Why are you apologizing so suddenly?”
“I am selfish. I know it might trouble you, but I don’t want to have distance between us! Ever since the day you told me you like me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I was confused, and I couldn’t think properly, but at the same time I was so happy. But the fact that your whole career was jeopardized because of me, I couldn’t forgive myself. I was just so happy we were getting closer, I forgot that I was crossing the line I made for myself. The times we texted each other, the time you gave me a beautiful Christmas present, all of them have become precious memories for me. I don’t want those moments to be the last! ” Tsumugi couldn’t stop the words from coming out. Before she knew it, tears were falling from her eyes and she couldn’t stop them.
“Takanashi-san… you…” Gaku is still dumbfounded not only by her words, but also seeing herself express herself so openly and honestly. He always found her honesty charming, but this is the first time he felt he is seeing her true, unreserved emotions.
“Tsumugi… please call me by my name. Even if it’s just once more, I want to hear you say it” she mutters quietly
Gaku gently takes her hand in his while wiping her tears “I am sorry, Tsumugi. This whole time, I thought that this was the best way to protect you, but it seems I have only been hurting you. I see I made a mistake. But it makes me happy you thought of me so much. From now on, I will try to close the distance I created between us. Though, there is still danger of getting you caught up in something like this again, are you sure you are okay with the risk? The gossip doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want to put you in a troublesome situation"
“Gaku-san… Of course! Please don’t worry. I will make sure to be careful on my part so that I don’t cause you further trouble” Tsumugi is clearly happy but she is still concerned about Gaku and his situation.
Gaku gives a beautiful, relieved smile. “Alright”
The two gaze at each other with smiles on both their faces.
“Well, let’s head back. The others must be waiting” Gaku gets up and starts walking. Tsumugi nods and follows him
Gaku stops a moment later “Ah, does the earlier declaration of yours count as a confession?” He looks back and gives a playful smile. His teasing attitude was so unexpected, along with his words making Tsumugi’s face go bright red. “G-Gaku-san! Please don’t ask something like that so suddenly” She pouts a little while looking down.
Gaku, clearly happy and amused by her reaction, turns back and continues walking. He quietly mutters so that Tsumugi doesn’t hear, “For now, this is enough”
The distance between them may still be there, but slowly and surely, they are getting closer….
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!
> Thank you Ramu, LINK for making a wonderful art piece to go with the fic! Please check her account out!
> You can find her art piece for the fic LINK
> This fic is part of the LINK for 2018
> You can also find me on twitter as LINK |
23771ec2f169402ab70c6b8b438840d5 | ['c0149d409a9f4409ae7a503c6fb2a2f2'] | "Well, let me find out for myself then," Voldemort leaned closer and looked into Harry's face, feeling his stomach churn in anticipation. His newly found sense of guilt came back in full force and he shivered at the notion he was going to watch his worst crime being committed again. Although he had no knowledge of love, of mother's care and adoration towards her child, he understood from his own experience that losing a parent, a mother, was one of the worst woes that could happen to a man.
Staring at him in horror, Harry shook his head but he could feel his mind already sucked inside the ominously bright ruby eyes, that mesmerized and froze him in his place, holding him hard, painfully still. Marvolo's intrusion was hurtful, it was nauseating and sickening, for his presence in Harry's mind felt as if something foul and oily was squeezing his breath out of him. Choking, Harry fought him with all his strength, but this was nothing in comparison to Severus - the Dark Lord was invincible. "Please, stop, it hurts!" he managed to cry and at the same moment he found himself in the other's arms, embraced with such protectiveness and care... He looked up and saw Marvolo's sad, pained eyes watching him ruefully.
"Forgive me, Harry. I am not as gentle as Severus in this... And I can't go further, I am afraid of hurting you," Voldemort buried his nose in the silky raven hair, inhaling the man's scent, holding him and trying in vain to calm down his own frantically beating heart. In truth, he couldn't bear to watch that scene from their past again, he couldn't stand the sight of himself laughing so coldly at the small green eyed boy and cursing him so mercilessly. He wronged Harry so terribly. Was this even worth knowing his Prince's secret if he had already had a guess what exactly was he going to find there? Was he actually so thick and naive to think that one day Harry would forgive him for killing his mother? He didn't need to be human to understand that much: he could be never forgiven for such atrocity. He himself murdered his own father for condemning his mother Merope to death in poverty and famine. Harry, the powerful wizard that he was, could have easily done the same, when instead he accepted Voldemort, changed him, tried to heal him and gave him absolution for everything else but this... "Oh, Harry, I wish I could have taken it back," he sighed almost inaudibly.
He heard him and circled his arms around Marvolo even tighter. Would the dark wizard learn to feel guilt and regret? Would he become truly human one day? "It is useless to wish now, after all this time..." Harry raised his head and looked into the other's eyes, "I have to let go of the past. Please, give me time, Marvolo. I need time."
"We have plenty of it." He thought Harry was the most courageous man he had ever met. And he felt blessed, honoured to be with him. He had never valued another being so highly as he did his Prince, and how could he really demand complete openness from Harry when he had everything else and even more? He could give him time, of course he could, time was what he had in abundance.
"Thank you," Harry whispered, kissing the rose lips tenderly, gratefully. He couldn't hate Marvolo, he couldn't fear him enough to keep away from him, no, he couldn't. He wished his mother could forgive him for his choice, for he knew deep inside of him that his life was one with Marvolo's, their destiny was to be together, they were meant for each other despite what had happened. "Thank you." I love you.
Pushing Harry to lie on the bed and coiling around his warm body, Voldemort sighed, pressing their foreheads together. "I often forget how vulnerable you are sometimes, how gentle. You are such a strong man, Harry, but as any other human being you are also weak. And you make me vulnerable as well, for you are my weakness."
"Forgive me," he mumbled, stroking the other's shoulders, calming down at the sensation of soft, cool skin under his hot palms.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry, I want you to be my weakness," the Dark Lord smiled ruefully and rubbed his nose against Harry's. "Keep your shields down, I will help you banish the nightmares away."
Harry nodded his head and closed his eyes, relaxing slowly, trusting Marvolo to help him despite the fear he had just experienced, despite the notion that he was letting the other into his mind. His emotions weren't kept there, his love burned inside his heart which had long been taken by the dark wizard - Voldemort simply hasn't realized it yet. Perhaps, he never would, perhaps, in time, Harry will show him.
xxx
"What am I doing wrong?" Harry whined, waving his arms around himself desperately as a shower of red sparkles erupted from the tip of his holly wand. Advanced transfiguration was still coming difficult to him, however, with Marvolo as his teacher he was progressing unimaginably fast.
"Gentler, dear," Voldemort embraced him from behind, slowly sliding his right hand down Harry's arm and towards his wand. "Magic doesn't stand neglect and irresponsibility. There is a price for everything," he whispered, inhaling the young wizard's scent and smiling at Harry's adorable ire.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harry rolled his eyes, involuntarily leaning back into the safety of the other's arms. He took a deep breath and concentrated on everything Marvolo had taught him. Standing in the dimly lit, narrow hall of the Red House, Harry had been restlessly trying to transfigure the space into something completely different. What exactly, though, he had no idea. | 6bd55bed170446d79619992c78d62689 | ['c0149d409a9f4409ae7a503c6fb2a2f2'] | "You are too smart for your own good," the soft deep laughter seemed to echo in his stomach, and Harry widened his eyes at the unusual feeling of flutter at his heart. Hell, the man was simply laughing, what was wrong with him? He hid his head under the blanket, to conceal his blush. "Oh, Harry, you weren't so shy just this morning." And another wave of pleasant sounds washed over him, making him practically squirm. He pushed his face into the pillow to will the damned heat away, inhaling involuntarily, and jerked at the sudden realization that if this was Marvolo's room, than he slept in Marvolo's bed and this scent belonged to him. Harry wanted to jump off the bed and never touch it again, but something deep inside of him asked him in that small, cunning voice if he really wanted to do this? He loved this smell, he had to admit it to himself.
"Where do you sleep?" Voldemort heard a muffled question.
He smiled. "Don't worry, I'm using another room."
"And why did you put me in yours when you could put me in that other one?" the boy was still hidden under the covers and Voldemort itched to tear them off of him to see his face and... everything else.
"Don't you like it? I thought you would be more comfortable here." At that Harry moved the blanket away to look at him, and the Dark Lord noticed his blush. A smug smile stretched his lips, despite his best attempts to stop it.
"It's nice," he stared at the smile, asking himself since when had he started googling indecently at other men, at other people for that matter. He had never had any thoughts of that kind before, but he found Marvolo attractive. He wasn't blind, of course, he could see and appreciate beauty in others' appearances, he could determine a handsome boy or girl, but he never were attracted to them. Oh, fuck. But now he was. To a bloody Death Eater, no less. He hadn't even seen his face, only a part of it, but his body was telling him this was enough.
"Why, thank you."
"Why are you nice to me? Why is Voldemort all kind and caring all of a sudden?" Harry sat up, trying to stir his mind from the notion that he had just had his first crush. "I am Harry Potter, I am the reason he died once, the reason many of you were killed or imprisoned..." He looked at Marvolo intently, creasing his eyebrows. It all was truly confusing for him to understand yet.
"Death Eaters were told not to harm you and so they would not. As for the Dark Lord... you will have to ask him yourself," the wizard told him, suddenly looking and sounding serious.
"He is not insane anymore, is he?" Harry whispered, remembering the scene at the Ministry. Despite looking the monster he was, Voldemort felt and acted absolutely... normal. As normal as a Dark Lord could. But his eyes, his ominous blood red eyes, they looked seriously, consciously, and when he told him he wasn't going to kill him, they looked even... human. He doubted he saw any kind of emotions in them, but there was something. Fear?
"No, he is not." Voldemort watched the boy closely. Could Harry understand the Dark Lord? Could he accept him, like he accepted Severus? "You don't seem to be afraid of him."
"There are worse things in this world than some hissing megalomaniac," Harry sighed, scowling at his hands that were tracing patterns on the embroidered cover. It was a true miracle, really, but ever since he came here, he never once saw or thought of Vernon. Perhaps, Marvolo was giving him a particularly potent soporific potion?
Yes, he knew that very well. "Muggles?" Voldemort asked simply, thinking back on everything he knew about the boy's home life.
"People in general. I do not separate muggles and wizards - we are all the same, human beings, with the same desires and fears, sins," Harry closed his eyes resentfully. He jerked and opened his eyes harshly as the mattress sagged a little under Marvolo's weight - he sat next to him, so close, his thigh brushed against Harry's. Flinching, he scooped up, pressing himself into the bed board, staring fearfully at the masked wizard.
"Tell me more," Voldemort said, wondering at the sudden change, sudden fear of contact.
"What?" Harry croaked, perplexed.
His insides trembled both in fear and delight at such close proximity, he couldn't understand himself. A man, a dangerous man, bigger, stronger than him, both physically and magically, was touching him - it screamed violence, pain, as his mind helpfully provided the images of Vernon towering over him with a belt in his fist. But at the same time this man radiated calmness, comfort, he wasn't doing anything else beside sitting close to him and watching him. Harry barely held back a surprised sob, when he realized that somewhere deep inside of him a thought was born that Marvolo could sit just a little closer, so that he could smell his oh so pleasant scent.
"Tell me more about those desires, fears and sins." The deep baritone vibrated in his own chest it seemed, and he looked up to meet the intense gaze of the dark brown eyes, framed by the gold shinning brightly in the candle light.
"No." Fear. "I don't want to talk anymore," he grabbed on the covers tightly, averting his gaze. He was frightened. Not of Marvolo, but of himself. |
bb66aaab083c4964b21a242b8cf56a14 | ['c02f0c2a4c9b41b5a45369e7dccfe660'] | The door blasted open and before he could respond he was stuck to the wall, looking in the eyes of a very pissed of pagan/archangel. He tried to continue trying to get a banishing spell out but before he knew he heard his own bones snap as his neck was broken and his body dropped down lifeless to the ground.
-
Sam hadn’t heard the door but when the chanting stopped his pain ebbed away, the only pain that was left was a sore ache in his muscles. He couldn’t look up but when he heard the voice he had dreamed would come for him he tried to look up. He couldn’t see the person he _knew_ was there but the soothing voice helped a lot. He was whimpering and struggling to get free, he wanted it to be true he wanted this nightmare to be over.
Finally when Loki crouched next to him he could see his lover, and he was clearly in-between personalities. He smiled and calmed down when he noticed that his hand was against Loki’s cheek, he hadn’t noticed that his hand had been freed and when he looked back he saw Bobby cutting away the ropes.
“Hey there Samshine.” Loki’s eyes were soft and Sam knew he couldn’t touch the ropes and hated that he wasn’t the one to cut him free. “Try not to speak you fucked up your voice, sounds like you gurgled gravel.” Loki tried to chuckle but there were tears gathering in his eyes.
“There that was the last one, I’ll look for some clothes.” Bobby’s gruff voice cut through the silence and Loki didn’t take his eyes off of Sam but only nodded. Sam smiled and curled his legs in on himself, leaning heavily against his lover.
“I- trd t figt ím” Sam tried to speak tried to let his lover know that he didn’t want any of it, but his throat was hurting so bad he could only get some noises that sounded like what he wanted to say. Loki petted down his face and smiled tiredly. “I know love don’t worry none of this was your fault.” He placed a kiss on his lips to get Sam to know that he still loved him.
-
When Bobby had found some clean clothes and Sam was seated in the corner of the room, they started on the plan to capture brother and angel. Sam had been briefly briefed on their plan, and when he had accepted that it would hurt Dean but not kill them he had accepted. When he had tried to help them they had gently told him that he needed to rest.
The drawings on the floor looked like it had taken time to get correct and with all the swearing from Bobby and Crowley Sam knew he was right. Crowley offered himself to go and stall Dean for a while, trying once again to get him on his side and when he walked off Sam smirked at Bobby. “So, you guys seem close.”
Bobby looked up and sighed. “Yeah, he helped us find yer.” Sam smiled at the way Bobby seemed to get more silent and a bit red in the face, now knowing who it was to make the old gruff man seem like a teenagers again.
Gabe was working on the warding against Castiel and Sam couldn't stop looking at him, reminding himself every few seconds that _'yes this is real'_ Loki had a soft smile on his lips feeling the love pouring from Sam and even with knowing that the next few months were going to be hard, well what was a few months for gods anyway they had time to fix it.
-
After they got done setting it up Sam had dozed off a few times, Gabriel had made sure Bobby knew it was because he was healing and that he needed sleep to further the healing progress, they had placed Sam on the only mattress they could find and not long after Crowley had let them know that Dean was on his way and that he would send Castiel to check on Sam. They got ready, Loki making sure his energy wasn't detected and Bobby standing in a dark corner. When Castiel entered the room and saw Sam sleeping on the mattress, clothed and bandaged, he ran over to the man and looked at him. “Sam! Where is Gordon! What did you do?!” He asked with a little panic in his voice.
Loki stepped out from behind the door and with a word activated the trap and when Castiel stood back up and looked at him he snarled. “Dean will not be happy with this!” Loki laughed. “You really think I give a damn about **Dean**?!” He snarled and let out a angry huff of air, the air around them increasing in warmth. “You know what he did to his own brother! You saw what Gordon and John did!” Loki wasn't angry at Castiel but at John for taking his son apart like he did.
A struggle could be heard and Loki opened the door, a bound and angry looking Dean was thrown in the room he let out a grunt and when he looked up he smiled. “Castiel there you are!” Castiel tried to curl into himself.
A grunt from the corner could be heard and Dean laughed. “Sammy! Welcome back to the world of the living. Now, where is Gordon?!” Sam flinched at the name and Loki kicked Dean in the stomach for good measure. “Now let’s see what is wrong with you.” Loki crouched next to the bound man and smiled, placing a hand on his chest ignoring the growl the man made. “This is gonna hurt.” Loki sounded a bit too happy with that, when he pressed his hand into Dean’s chest Dean _screamed!_ | 616f560903124f6dab10af6f2b004523 | ['c02f0c2a4c9b41b5a45369e7dccfe660'] | _“Castiel, welcome.”_ However Castiel didn’t feel welcomed at all, the lights that shone in from the garden were harsh and the white room seemed in some way _off._ Like the paint was hiding the true colours beneath it. Taking a seat when directed to it Castiel sat down flinching a little when his hands were bound to it by manacles, looking up and tilting his head a little a frown prominent on the angel’s face.
“Naomi I assume, why the restraints?” the bitter laugh came out of nowhere and Castiel was a bit startled. “You _saved_ an extra person from hell?! Do you know how disastrous the consequences will be for you?!” She snarled as she flung a piece of pottery across the room, it hit the wall and broke on impact shattering into a thousand pieces.
“The **righteous man** asked me to do him a favour! To _save_ the man he needed for guidance!” Castiel was fuming irked with the way he was being treated by this other angel. He had done nothing wrong! “Yes Castiel you saved a man with a vengeance what will this person do once he finds out about his other son?! The true vessel of Lucifer himself?!” Castiel frowned, how could Sam Winchester be the vessel for Lucifer? It didn’t make sense he wasn’t tainted with something the only scars that marred his soul were the one of losing his mother and losing his girlfriend in the same way.
“How could Sam Winchester be Lucifer’s true vessel, Naomi? He isn’t marred?” Again the harsh laugh startled the younger angel he was frowning once more, now more for the angel’s well-being. Naomi walked to the front of the desk planting herself on top of it while she smiled a small knowing smile. “Poor Castiel, not even knowing the great big plan but still being used as a pawn.” She sighed as a mother would before telling their child something so obvious she was kind of upset they hadn’t seen it yet.
“Sam Winchester is tainted with demon blood.” She smiled let out a little laugh throwing her head back at the look Castiel was wearing, his eyes had gone comically wide and the colour in his vessel had left. _Samuel Winchester is tainted with demon blood?!_ He snarled at the angel but before he could try and escape there was a metal contraption put on top of his head, restraining him from further movement once the first pin was in place. Snarling once more in pain he looked up trying his best to escape.
_“Don’t try it Castiel, you won’t even remember what I just told you in a couple of hours. Sleep now Castiel and be a good angel and follow your orders. The Winchesters will come for you soon enough.”_ Castiel could feel his vessel shutting down into what humans called ‘sleep’ how ever his angelic grace was once again also shut off like they would do when he was still a fledging.
-
The programming took some days and by the time Castiel wasn’t fighting it anymore the Winchesters had gotten a way to bind him to the elder one. Much like the metal contraption used to re-instruct him he couldn’t get out of this bond. Once on earth and bound he couldn’t do anything himself needing to have permission from his ‘master’ hating this the clipping of his wings Castiel tried to communicate with any angels that were currently on earth.
There were some lost friends that had ripped out their grace in order to find peace and belonging. Castiel had dubbed in doing this he too wanting to be free but too much of a _coward_ to rip out his grace and take a swan dive back into earth.
He had gotten some response of some angels who still remembered what they once were, some didn’t remember their grace not only ripping out their age and resetting it to relearn everything but also taking their memories. This was one of the things that stopped Castiel from ripping out his grace, he didn’t want to lose the memories he had of heaven, his brothers and sisters the ones that gave him joy and _purpose._ Now however everything had changed. His beloved brothers and sisters were all misled and while Naomi liked to think that he didn’t remember what she said he did remember little things holding on to this knowledge to try and find a way to put an end to this.
That was before he met the true form of John Winchester, while in hell it hadn’t seen so prominent the demon-esk soul seemed to be still okay. However that was before the middle Winchester started to act weird, more in anger and spite than he used to do. Castiel put one and one together rather quickly one night when he was healing Dean.
-
Sam hurled upright and while he was still breathing heavily he looked around to see where the threat was. Once he heard the soothing voice of his boyfriend and the soothing hands slowly wiping away some sweat from his fore head. _“Lo?”_ His voice was wrecked like he had been screaming for a while. Once he looked up he saw the scared eyes and he sighed. _“H-how bad was I?”_
Taking a deep breath Loki carded a hand through his hair and smiled a sad smile. “You were sleeping well for a while but you started to get bad pretty quick. You were screaming for over an hour and I couldn’t get you to wake, you were shouting Dean and John while thrashing around.” Only than did Sam see the blue spot around Loki’s chin and he sat up way too quick for his body at that moment. _“Ohno I hurt you didn’t I?!”_ Chuckling Loki pressed his hands to his boyfriends cheeks and healed the spot on his chin. |
971ebddd00794e57ac1a1ffc43dc8abd | ['c0333a583abe40ef9f8d96d71d58ca71'] | “I do. I write her more letters—love letters, all—than she writes me. She is not half so bad as John, though,” he added thoughtfully. “He can hardly be bothered to correspond, no matter how frequent my own messages. You, however, are a woman of letters,” he proclaimed, grasping Angelica enthusiastically by the arm. “You can be relied upon to write faithfully.”
_What harm is there in political theory between siblings?_ she told herself, every nerve in her body aware of Alexander’s uncommonly warm hand. She lifted her chin and smiled, the cutting curve of the lip that made lesser men think she was too clever by half. “Indeed, brother, I look forward to a fruitful correspondence. I have thoughts on the rights of women in these states, and I have thoughts on Laurens’s thoughts on abolition.”
Alexander was not unaffected, she could tell, as he released her. “I’m certain the latter thoughts could be addressed to him directly.”
_Ah,_ she thought, _what power I have in my hands, in this moment._ She glanced back over her shoulder at Laurens, who was now engaged in conversation with a knot of young officers and Van Rensselaer cousins, looking perfectly at ease.
She took a breath, a sip of wine, a moment.
She turned back to meet Alexander’s eyes with a smile. “I doubt he would be half so receptive to my thoughts as to yours,” Angelica said at last, voice gentle with insinuation.
There was color in Alexander’s cheeks as he replied, “Laurens is as committed to the cause as anyone, myself and Burr included.”
“Burr,” she scoffed, sipping at her wine. “That rake. I can hardly imagine him committing to anything.”
That, at least, made Alexander laugh. “Well, you needn’t speak to _him_ , on abolition or any other subject. He promised to make every effort to attend tonight, but I have yet to see him at all.”
“Alas,” Angelica exclaimed, not sounding very sorry at all, “the efforts of men are too often insufficient to their intentions.”
Alexander produced a wine glass of his own; he touched the lip of his to hers. “Nobody could lay the charge of insufficient effort at my feet—I am sure of it.”
“And I’m sure you are.” Angelica eyed the movement of his throat as he drank deep. “I shall await Eliza’s report before rendering judgment.”
He choked, a thread of champagne snaking its way from the corner of his mouth. Angelica had the absurd urge to offer him her handkerchief, but refrained as he wiped a finger along his jawline and brought it to his lips. “Is that the way of sisters, then?” he asked, holding her gaze. “Have I unwittingly invited all of you into my affairs?”
“You should be so fortunate.” Angelica could feel the blush creeping up her neck, but thought she had imbibed a plausible amount of wine to excuse it. “No, brother—you shall receive my letters, and Peggy’s, should she choose to correspond.”
“I shall treasure them,” he said with a slight, perfectly correct bow. “I look forward to intelligent conversation about the future, when so much of my work is desperate struggle in the present.”
Angelica, looking over Alexander’s shoulder, saw John Laurens making his way toward them. “You may share my thoughts with your tent-mate, of course. Amongst your other negotiations.”
Before Alexander could respond, Laurens clapped him on the shoulder from behind; startled, Alexander spilled the rest of his champagne onto his sleeve. “Come, my good man,” said Laurens a tad too loudly, casting a glance toward Angelica. “You wouldn’t believe who arrived just now. Aaron Burr!”
Alexander allowed himself to be led away by the arm, toward the gaggle of young men congregated near the entrance. Angelica watched them go.
The crowd was thinning as guests began to make their farewells. Angelica looked back to where Eliza was laughing with Peggy, with some of their cousins and neighbors; Eliza was distributing little pastries wrapped in extra bits of waxed paper to the younger girls, saying, “We have so many left over; take some home for your grandmother, your baby brother, your maidservant.” Angelica watched her sister press tiny gifts into the hands of her guests, her veil slightly askew on her dark head. Peggy twirled the stem of a champagne flute between her long fingers, charming eligible young men with Eliza’s grace and manners, with the beginnings of Angelica’s wit. _My sisters,_ thought Angelica, _are beautiful._
She drank down the last of her wine. _Tonight, in this house, there is no war, no deadly invading army._
Angelica went to her sisters.
“Peggy, perhaps you could dole out the remainder of this basket?” she suggested. “Eliza, shall we to your marital chamber?”
Eliza blushed to the roots of her hair. “Angelica!” she hissed. They glanced over to where the bridegroom was speaking with the lately arrived Burr. (“Can you believe he invited Burr?” Peggy whispered, giggling.)
“Come, Eliza,” said Angelica. “The night is almost over for all of your guests. You needn’t stay to the end, as the reception appears to have devolved into a downtown tavern.”
Eliza laughed, and Peggy willingly accepted the basket of pastries, summoning their mother’s best red-lipped smile. As Angelica and Eliza made their way through the ballroom’s wide double doors, Eliza’s eyes searched out Alexander’s; the sudden bloom on her cheeks told her sister that she’d found what she sought.
Angelica turned her head. Like Lot’s wife on the edge of fire and ruin, she looked back.
Alexander, eyes bright in the candlelit ballroom, gazed in her—in her sister’s—direction. He raised a glass in acknowledgement, in salute, in farewell.
Angelica set her glass down. She breathed deep, took her sister’s hand in hers, and they walked out into the rest of their lives, together.
**Author's Note:**
> My first fic in this fandom. (Please let me know what you think!) | b49ff15633c444d1a27e074934debb58 | ['c0333a583abe40ef9f8d96d71d58ca71'] |
To Your Union
**Author's Note:**
> I've attempted to adhere to both the events of the musical and the events of history, with the former taking precedence where they conflict.
Angelica Schuyler was not the life of this particular party. She stood next to an overflowing table at the side of the ballroom, watching her new brother-in-law sweep her sister in a wide arc around the dance floor. Eliza looked radiant, all graceful limbs and dark hair gleaming in the candlelight.
Tomorrow, Alexander would return to his post. Tomorrow, all the handsome young men gracing the Schuyler household would melt into the woods, back into their encampments and fortifications. The British were coming, and it seemed like there was no end to them, the red-coated wrath of an empire.
Tomorrow, Alexander might die.
_Tonight,_ thought Angelica, _let my sister have this._
“‘Twas a lovely speech,” said a dashing officer in a fine blue coat, interrupting her thoughts as he made a beeline for the punch bowl.
“As was yours,” she returned. “A tad bawdier than the ladies might have expected, but I suppose you have been surrounded by military men long enough that it all seems commonplace.”
“My apologies, Miss Schuyler, if a humble soldier’s humor offends. Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, at your service.” He very properly kissed the hand she extended to him.
“I know of your father, of course.”
“Of course,” said Laurens, with the barest hint of bitterness that a lesser conversationalist would have overlooked.
“I read about the battalion you're attempting to raise,” Angelica offered. “I think it a fine idea.”
“You and Alexander make two. My father calls it lunacy, and the South Carolina House of Representatives certainly agrees with him.”
At their mention of him, Alexander appeared to look over at the pair of them, meeting their eyes for just a moment, before returning to his conversation with Lafayette and General Schuyler. Angelica lifted her glass to him, the slightest movement of her wrist.
Laurens, she noted, had the queerest look in his eyes as he stared after them. _He has the look of a schoolboy mooning after the milkmaid,_ she thought.
“You’re married, then, Mr. Laurens?”
Laurens, startled out of his reverie, nearly choked on his punch. “Excuse me?”
Angelica hid a wry smile behind her wineglass. “She’s been in England this whole time, hasn't she? Pregnant?”
“Ah, a daughter,” Laurens murmured, flushing pink. “I confess you have me at a disadvantage, Miss Schuyler. How did you…?”
“It’s astonishing how little one can hide from those with the right connections and a dedicated interest in knowing as much as possible.” Angelica narrowed her eyes consideringly. “Alexander has no idea, does he?”
“He—no. I don't speak of her often. It never came up.”
“All those lonely nights in the barracks, just the two of you…” she prompted lightly. “Has Alexander never spoken of my sister, then, either?”
Laurens gave a small smile. “He can hardly resist praising her numerous charms at every opportunity, I assure you. Between him and Gilbert, yammering on about his beloved Adrienne, I never get a word in edgewise.”
“You suppose he’d think less of you,” she observed.
“For Martha?”
“For leaving your child in London, when you could have her safely ensconced in your father’s house instead.”
“The Atlantic crossing is uncommonly perilous these years, as I'm confident you know. A hostile ocean teeming with redcoats is no place for a child.”
“And I'm confident you know Alexander would hardly see it that way, given the circumstances of his arrival in New York.” At Laurens’s sharp glance, she added, “Of course I know of it. He has no secrets from my sister, and she has none from me.”
This drew an even more severe look from the man. _Curious,_ Angelica mused.
Laurens coughed. “You've given me much to think upon, Miss Schuyler.”
“I'm glad of it. He has an orphan’s obsession with family, our Alexander.”
“One would think you, rather than your sister, the new Mrs. Hamilton, given how well you seem to know my dear friend’s mind,” Laurens retorted.
Angelica thought she recovered well, all things considered. “I take an interest in my sister’s welfare. And he is now family; I make it my business to know him.” Before the man could further probe her heart, Angelica offered her hand. “Shall we dance, Mr. Laurens? I trust you are familiar with the steps.”
“I had a childhood of dance instruction. Much, I suspect, like you.” As the quartet started up a new number, he placed the proffered hand lightly on his arm.
The pair of them floated easily towards the bride, who was now dancing with her father. “What a dashing pair you make!” Eliza called gaily to her sister, her pale cheeks flushed with wine and happiness.
“Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, is it?” said General Schuyler. “Of the South Carolina Laurenses?”
“He’s married, papa,” Angelica retorted, to Eliza’s delighted laughter.
As they drifted past the bride, Angelica felt the tension in Laurens’s shoulder under her palm. “Is it really such a secret, now?” she murmured, leaning close to his ear. “Marriage is a lovely thing.”
“ _Love_ is a lovely thing, Miss Schuyler,” said Laurens, as the music swelled. “Wouldn't you agree?”
“Of course.” Angelica followed his gaze toward Alexander, who was laughing with Mulligan, the tailor and rumored informant. “My sister fell for Alexander the moment she laid eyes on him.”
“That does happen astonishingly often where he’s concerned.”
“You sound jealous,” Angelica teased, dropping into a perfect curtsy as the number ended. “You should have no need for others’ attentions now.”
Laurens bowed over her hand, looking more melancholy than chastised. “Have you heard the story about Lady Washington’s tomcat?”
“Oh, yes. Eliza first heard it from me.”
“Should you repeat such tales to his wife?”
“If the tales are true, then certainly.” |
1877143a96d54bbb8439b2694b196a00 | ['c04201aa148f417aa7d3dd4506ad7d04'] | "Uh... are you trying to say that you don't remember this place? You mean it's not familiar to you at all?" he said. I shook my head, and looked down, embarrassed at my inability to communicate clearly. "I see you are having trouble speaking Inkling... but you can understand what I am saying, correct?" I nodded. I must have learned the Inkling language at some point in my life because I can understand most of it, and possibly read it too, but I just wasn't fluent in speaking it. "Hmmmm... perhaps while we find a way out of here, I could give you a few lessons on how to speak Inkling, if that's alright with you." I nodded eagerly. I really wanted to learn the language, and I was glad the Cap'n was offering to help me. I kept looking around the room until I saw a weird, electronic pressure plate, right next to this weird ball with a nozzle sticking out of it. The nozzle pointed to a smaller ball, floating in the air, that had two nozzles on the bottom of it. This floating ball was floating above a pile of boxes, which blocked the path to another room, that I couldn't see clearly. I tried to step on the pressure plate, lining my feet up with the red, lit-up footprints, and then suddenly, the pressure plate lit up to match my ink color, and the nozzle ball on the right activated. It sprayed a long strip of ink out if its nozzle in the same direction it was pointing. The ink line went into one nozzle of the small, floating ball, and out the other nozzle. I couldn't see where the ink line went next.
I didn't know what to do until I thought, " What if I can swim in this line of ink?" I turned into an octopus and tested my theory. It worked! I could swim inside this ink line. I traveled through the line, into the floating nozzle-ball, and over the boxes, down into where the ink line ended. It turned out it ended at another nozzle-ball. Strange, but fascinating. These nozzle balls can create this path of ink that connects to one another by each nozzle. I felt like I've seen this technology before. Was it more Octarian tech? I was unsure. I continued past the nozzle balls and came across another pressure plate, but it looked different than the one I stepped on before. It was larger and black, and it didn't look electronic. I lined up my feet with the footprints, and suddenly, this large, glass cylinder shot up from the plate and surrounded me, while a red laser scanned me from inside. I was nervous, I couldn't escape the cylinder, and I was worried I'd be trapped in there forever. That was until I noticed the screen in front of me. It showed a picture of this weird gun, that looked like a toy, and a triangle next to it. There was text below it, and I attempted to read it. It said "Splattershot Jr. & Splat Bomb". Splat Bomb sounded familiar. I touched the image, not knowing what else to do, and suddenly, that same gun appeared in my hands, and the cylinder went back down.
"Booyeah!" said Cuttlefish, "That contraption back there gave you a weapon!" A weapon? So this gun is not a toy. There was a pile of wooden boxes in front of me. Maybe I could shoot them. I nervously pointed my gun at the boxes and pulled the trigger. Lightning fast, an army of large, magenta -colored drops of ink shot out of the gun and destroyed all of the boxes. What a rush! It came back to me now. I remembered, I felt, that I was once trained to use weapons like these. These... ink weapons. I looked at the ink that I shot on the ground. I was able to submerge in it in my octopus form. When I came out of the ink, my backpack felt a bit heavier than it did before I went in the puddle. Perhaps these ink weapons use the ink from my backpack, and I can refill it by going inside the ink. What amazing technology! I reached behind me, and I pulled out one of those triangles, those "Splat Bombs". It was actually in the shape of a triangular pyramid. When I threw it, it bounced on the floor a bit, and then it exploded into ink. Now I get why these things have their name. The bomb seemed to take up a lot of ink, so I refilled it and continued on into the room. There were all sorts of things in this room. These weird colored boxes of all sizes, which looked different from the wooden ones, colored balloons floating in the air, some weird looking balloons, and some other objects and mechanisms that seemed a bit familiar. The only unfamiliar things in this room were the colored boxes, balloons, as well as more turquoise IVs, and large, glass crates that surrounded the room's walls. | 4ab25b1d6c854420a56ae83b39c66814 | ['c04201aa148f417aa7d3dd4506ad7d04'] |
1. Prologue
**Author's Note:**
> This takes place after the events of Cephalove. Lucas is hanging out by the alley near the Cafe when he hears some strange noises coming from the subway ramp...
It was yet another regular day for Lucas Splattington here in Inkopolis Square. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, it was a perfect day, like absolutely nothing could go wrong! He was happy to be with his wonderful girlfriend, Marina of Off the Hook. Today was the day after Lucas saved her life after the uh... incident that happened down in Octo Canyon. Today was OTH’s day off, and Lucas had a bit of a date planned for today. It was still a little early, Pearl and Marina were up at their house on Mount Nantai just chillin, and Lucas was hanging by that same corner, in between the studio and the cafe.
He was texting on his phone, until something caught his eye. He saw some sort of small card, sitting on the ground by the window of the cafe. He walked over to it, and picked it up to carefully observe it. It seemed like a scanning type of card, since it had a long black strip on the bottom of one side. He looked at the front of it and there wasn’t much, just a white background and in the corner, was some weird looking blob with spikes. “Must be someone’s weird club card!” Lucas thought.
Then he found another one, closer to the corner where he was originally standing. It looked exactly the same. Near that second card, was some weird looking device. It was blue, slightly filthy, and it had a symbol that looked like two wavy lines. In the center was some sort of joystick. Lucas tried to move it around, and pressed a few buttons, but nothing happened. It appeared to have been busted or broken or out of battery, lucas don’t know which.
But then, something caught his ear. It was coming from the ramp deeper back in the alley, that led down to a subway. Lucas never went down there, it was blocked off by a short barred gate. He could slip through it in squid form, but he never decided to. He listen a little closely. He could here talking, or something. Little did he know, he was about to hear a story that echos from the deep, and will change the lives of many...
2. Awoken and Amnesiac
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Robert, our soon-to-be hero wakes in a strange underground subway station. He has no memory of himself or what happened. He meets Captain Cuttlefish, who threatened him at first but then befriended him when he realized he was an Octoling who heard the Calimari Inkantation. Now the two must travel the subway and find a way out, if they can...
**From Robert's POV**
Everything was dark. My mind was blank. I couldn't remember a thing, except for one thing: that melody. Something about it filled me with hope, joy, and happiness. I silently hummed the melody to myself, until I heard something...
I woke up... or regained consciousness at least. My body ached. I could hardly move. I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, I could hardly see, but I could make out that sound, a voice, saying, "Ahoy! Octoling!" What on earth was an octoling?
I realized the figure standing above me was speaking a language I knew, but it wasn't my own language, at least, I didn't think it was. My eyes came into focus until I could clearly see the figure. It was an elderly inkling. I didn't know it was an inkling at first. I hardly knew anything when I woke up. The old inkling looked at me with large, brown eyes. He looked quite old. I could tell by his pale white eyebrows and mustache, and he held a cane in one hand, struggling to hold himself up. He wore large, black specs, a pair of headphones against his neck, a green... tracksuit of some sort, with various medals and badges pinned to it, and he had some sort of leader cap, with the tip facing backward. The old man continued, "Up and at 'em, ya lazy whiffle-whaffle!" I tried to move my body but still struggled. "This fight ain't over! Prepare yourself for a royal whoopin'!" I got scared, and again tried to move, but my body still ached. I prepared myself for this so-called "royal whoopin,'" but nothing happened, the man simply said, "But there's no honor in defeating an unarmed opponent..." I quietly sighed in relief, then he continued, "...and you seem to have lost your weapon around here somewhere." The man looked around a few times, then back at me. "And just where is...here...anyway?" |
a3fc46b291414841aff4bc70619cd857 | ['c052c26be98d43e7a57b2a2156500480'] | The billionaire lets out a quiet huff of laughter at the doctor’s attempt at probing for information.
“Trust me, he knows me more than I know him…”
_“Fourteen million ways to fall in love with you and every single time, you always went out first…”_
The memory plays so vividly and suddenly that the genius can’t help but bite back the sharp gasp threatening to escape from his lips. Out of habit, Tony presses his hand on top of the housing unit for his nanomites, gently tapping the glass for comfort. He let out a harsh shuddering exhale, trying his best to politely ignore Christine’s alarmed look.
He’s managed to keep it together for the entire morning, he can probably handle a few more hours.
“Mr. Stark? Are you alright--”
“Fine. I’m fine.” Christine looks at him with suspicion and doubt but lets it go. She is not responsible for his well being, after all, and he’s not her patient.
“Well,” The neurosurgeon begins with a slight pause before continuing, “I’m sure he appreciates you visiting him.”
_“Your death didn’t give my life meaning. Your love did...”_
“Y-Yeah…”
“Thank you. For being there by his side.”
_“You saved me so many times, my invincible_ **_Iron Man_ ** _.”_
“What’s the point?” Tony’s voice cracks, nearly letting out a small whimper upon recalling his last few moments with the other man.
“Even if I did stay, even if I was there…” _‘Even if I did manage to save him in all those fourteen million lifetimes...’_ Tony trails off, his voice trembling with heartache with each syllable.
“I couldn’t save him in this timeline when it mattered the most. I failed him. _I’m not his invincible Iron Man..._ ” The billionaire’s breath hitches, as he struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to escape him. Christine looks at him with sad, pitiful eyes, realizing that Stephen probably meant a lot more to him than he lets on. Tony turns away, not wanting to break down in front of the doctor more than he already has when he is stopped by the only other master of the mystic arts he knows.
“Stark, a word?” Tony nods at the other man while bidding his farewell to the female doctor. A portal opens in a shower of golden sparks and Tony has never been so glad to see the familiar walls of the New York Sanctum. The billionaire wastes no time in burying himself in the comfortable armchair, his shoulders slumped in defeat and exhaustion. He takes off his sunglasses and wipes his face with the edge of his formal suit. Red rimmed whiskey colored eyes stare at the small kindling in the fireplace as silence consumes the room.
Wong finally enters the room holding two cups of steaming hot tea as he hands one to Tony without saying anything. The Avenger drinks the scalding tea without a flinch, as he relishes in the burning pain on his tongue. It feels nice, refreshing.
It feels like he was being cleansed of his sins.
He sets down the cup with a tiny _clink_ , letting today’s events sink in.
“Are you calm enough to talk now?”
Tony’s first response is denial and to deflect. As he is about to deny it, the words get stuck in his throat and he feels his mouth clam up. He fidgets on the comfortable armchair and brings his knee up to his chest before nodding silently at the other man’s inquiry.
“Good.” Wong sips his own luke warm tea before setting it down next to Tony’s cup. Comfortable silence settles for a brief moment, giving Tony the opportunity to soak up the soothing atmosphere of the Sanctum.
During the five year gap, Tony worked with the Mystic Arts master more than a few times. He’s stayed and worked in the Sanctum for quite a while to the point that he’s gotten rather familiar with the librarian and current care-taker of the New York Sanctum. Proof of his continuous visits show in some parts of the old building, as he sometimes left behind some tools and tech here and there. At some point, Tony could actually say that he’s bonded and gotten to know the other man well.
His sentimental thoughts vanish, as a dark thought quickly replaces it.
_He never got to visit Stephen in his own home._
“Stark, you know normally, we’re not allowed to let any outsiders even know of the relics and what they are capable of.”
“Wow, you’re breaking your stuffy laws for me?”
“However, in my judgement as the current standing Master of the New York Sanctum, I believe you are a worthy ally and a capable associate.”
“Right, is this going anywhere, Beyonce?”
“Where I am going with this is... here.” The librarian stood up as he hands Tony a bundled up red fabric. Curious, the genius stands up and lets the piece of fabric flow down.
It is a cloak. A very bright red cloak.
It is _The Cloak_ . **_His Cloak_ **.
Tony’s mirth vanishes upon processing the information. He dangles the much duller red fabric around, waiting for it to get up and slap his hand.
It never does.
“Before Stephen… passed away, the magic in the Cloak of Levitation bound itself into his soul. So when he faded away…” The master trails off, letting the explanation sink into Tony’s mind. Calloused hands clutch the immobile fabric like a lifeline as he closes his eyes, trying his best to keep the stinging tears from dropping. He holds the cloak close, nearly wrapping the once sentient fabric around himself as he takes in the warmth and smell of Stephen’s presence from the once sentient fabric.
It doesn’t stop Tony from finally collapsing back into the chair, curling himself up and blinking away the tears that managed to escape. His ever active mind tries to compartmentalize his feelings, trying to force logic onto emotion.
It doesn’t work. | 8545834136f94c66baeef5ebe57cdfae | ['c052c26be98d43e7a57b2a2156500480'] | “No… no, no, no--” Whiskey eyes widened at the implication, as he tries to stand up despite FRIDAY’s warnings. He can’t stay here, Stephen needs him. He’s been so focused on the Accords and clean up and everything that he never had time to check up on what the doctor was up to. He couldn’t even be happy at the mutual feelings being reciprocated.
How could he when there is a possibility that this is his love’s final message...
“F-Friday, w-what’s Stephen’s s-status.”
“I suggest you sit down for this, Boss.”
FRIDAY pulls up various articles about a car crash, broken hands, and one seriously injured neurosurgeon… or ex-neurosurgeon, as the media pointed out. In every picture he saw of the doctor’s accident, he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. It was a miracle that he even survived such a wreckage. Every new article he reads is another strike at his heart and Tony wonders if this is all just a dream and if he’s actually still being beaten down with Rogers’ shield.
The last article, published just a few days ago, notes that all public records and funds of Stephen had been either closed or withdrawn. The man disappeared and has yet to be seen in broad daylight.
**_“Goodbye.”_ **
Tony grits his teeth, refusing to let the tears flow. He refuses to acknowledge that his Stephen is--
“Boss, the medics will arrive in a few more minutes. Please stay at your current location.”
He barely remembers it when he was saved from the cold depths of Siberia. He responds to Pepper and Rhodey’s attempts to talk to him with non-committal answers and one-liners. His mind hardly registers the surgeries and the mini reactor casing being placed back in his chest once again. He couldn’t help but focus solely on Stephen’s message and his overdue confession.
So God help him, the moment he sees that man with gorgeous blue eyes once again, he’s not letting him out of his sight. They’ve wasted enough precious moments already and Tony thinks that they need to catch up on lost time.
Determination and fire slowly burnt within him as he finally utters the first few words he’s said since before his surgery.
“Pep. Rhodey. Help me… search for… Stephen Strange.”
**_“Goodbye.”_ **
He’ll find him and stay by his side, _whatever it takes._
**Author's Note:**
> Turtle: GIMME THE RECONNECT FIC??!?!??!!??
> Me: *sweating nervously* umMM OKAY SEE ABOUT THAT--
>
> ahhAHHA I didn't plan that far ahead asdfjghkl |
76670d056a8044748bec29503b839276 | ['c054356eb5c141bda75da8529fdfce4e'] | "That is so like you," she sighed and shook her head, "I know you're angry, but didn't you tell him you would give it to someone who needed it?"
"Yes, I did," she said and grabbed another piece of cake, "But I never got around to it so..."
Anges smiled softly, "I think the person that needs it is you."
Edea frowned, "Please, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that thing. I mean, it's a good color and all, but it really isn't my style."
"Why not make it into something your style then?" her friend suggested, "You did say a moment ago that you wanted a more stylish uniform, so why not incorporate the coat into it?"
Edea paused to think it over, and she had to admit it wasn't too bad of an idea.
* * *
Another year went by, and Edea had worn her new uniform for awhile now. She hadn't had many problems wearing it(Alternis made sure of that whenever he was around and they were walking down a crowded street), but ever since Ringabel had returned she felt so embarrassed wearing it.
She'd told the seamstress she wanted to look more mature in her new outfit, and boy did she get more than she bargained for. She was told it turned out the way it did because of the lack of cloth to work with(she probably should've reconsidered ordering such a big bow to go with it), but she couldn't help thinking it was ironic how it looked like something Ringabel would've designed just for her in one of his sick fantasies.
So when he came back temporarily she had a feeling she'd get plenty of looks from him, but the amount of attention she was getting was starting to get _really_ annoying. Especially because he looked more puzzled than attracted to her whenever she saw him staring. It was like he was dangerously close to learning the truth, and she wasn't sure if she should be excited or afraid if he did figure it out. She hoped he'd drop it nevertheless, but it wouldn't be like him to just drop a mystery once it caught his attention.
Finally, after they'd finished a random battle, Ringabel came up to her and addressed the issue without even a prompt.
"Why Edea," began the dark night with a smirk, and Edea barely had time to turn to him with a quirked brow before he continued, "Are you wearing my coat?"
Edea was absolutely silent as her face grew warm with blush as the seconds ticked by, and her mouth hung open as she tried to find her voice. She could faintly hear her three other companions starting to snicker and that certainly wasn't going to help her case.
"No!" she finally responded, probably too loudly, and to her mortification he doubled over laughing.
"I said I'm _not!_ " she yelled as she smacked his head.
"I'm sorry it's just--" he paused suddenly to catch his breath, but he was still snickering.
Edea folded her arms and turned her head away with a pout, "I fail to see what's so funny."
"I'm just happy, that's all."
His benevolent and honest voice, alongside that endearing gaze of his that she was still getting use to seeing again, told her that he was serious for the moment. However, she held any reply she might have, knowing he probably had something dumb to add to throw her off again.
"But I must say, you certainly put it to good use!" he added with a playful wink. She wanted to smack him over the head again, but oddly she felt like shaking things up a bit. Afterall, he already told them he couldn't stay long, and no one knew when he'd return. _No reason not to have some fun_ , Edea told herself inwardly.
So she took a step closer to him, her hands on her hips, head tilted up toward his, and a teasing smile on her lips as she said, "Unfortunately for you it's for looks only. So remember to keep your hands to yourself."
"Oh?" he began, surprised by her at first but he quickly bounced back with a response, "What about the sweet embrace we shared earlier?"
She rolled her eyes, but blushed at the memory of it, "That doesn't count, and I _doubt_ you'll get that lucky again."
"Doubt doesn't suit you, my angel," he stated while slowly leaning closer to her, his voice growing softer, "I'm sure I could find some way to change your mind."
"Hmm," Edea pretended to think for a moment before smiling again and poking his nose with the finger she'd just had on her lip, "I'd like to see you try." | 9a46fff5cc6f4a45ac9d2e879b37603b | ['c054356eb5c141bda75da8529fdfce4e'] |
The Blues
**Author's Note:**
> I personally thought Edea's new freelance outfit actually being Ringabel's coat was adorable and funny. I was sad that I haven't seen a conversation in game on the matter yet so I made this.
Never in a million years did Edea think she'd keep his coat. That stupid blue coat that perfectly complimented his eyes. Eyes that had watched her so endearingly throughout their journey, and though she had always insisted that it was the look of a pervert she knew deep down he cared. He just really sucked at showing it most of the time.
So when he left her with a promise that he would return in a few months' time she believed him. She held the journal and coat he'd given to her as he teased about how she could sleep with the coat wrapped around her, or simply hold it tightly in her arms as she dreamed of him. Edea angrily told him such a thing would never happen, and that she'd just give it to someone who needed it. He nodded, approving of her idea.
But after the final goodbyes were said, and he sailed away, she didn't expect to realize the person that needed it was her.
* * *
She'd had it hanging in her closet ever since she got home. She would see it every morning and night, and it was a happy reminder that the four of them would be together again soon. But when the day came and only Edea and Anges showed up it was no longer so happy a reminder. After they'd found Tiz lifeless on the ground she'd shoved aside any furious thoughts directed at Ringbel for later.
Once Tiz was stabilized in the room Victoria had previously occupied many times, everyone returned to their usual schedule, but neither of the girls could recover from such a devastating event. Edea felt absolutely broken as she tiredly trudged up to her room. It had been a long night and she just wanted to sleep.
"Edea!"
Edea instantly froze in place on the steps. It was Alternis, but it wasn't _him_. She swallowed the anger she felt toward her friend's alternate self and turned around.
"Um... You forgot this," he spoke as if he was afraid of bothering her. And he was holding that blue coat. He made his way up the few steps that separated them, stopping on the one just below her, and offered the coat to her. She stared at it for what felt like a very long time, but was really just a few slow seconds.
"Thank you..." she replied with barely any voice and took it with one hand, not bothering to keep it neatly folded up as she let it hang loosely at her side. That's when she felt tears trailing down her cheeks and nose.
She heard him say her name once again and that was it. She covered her mouth as she tried to suppress the sobs escaping her lips, and retreated up the stairs as fast as her legs could take her.
Her vision had been blurry, but she'd gotten safely to her bedroom. After slamming the door behind her she buried the stupid coat in the darkest corner of her closet, and piled everything she didn't like on top of it so that she'd never be tempted to go near it, or even look in it's direction. A million angry thoughts went through her head as she did so.
_ Why didn't Ringabel come back? _
_Did he not want to come back?_
_Does he not care about us anymore?_
_Why didn't stupid, stupid Ringabel come back?!_
After the deed was done she thought she'd feel better, the thought of his hurt expression at what she'd just done was supposed to be satisfying, and all thoughts of love for him would be over. But instead her heart only continued to break.
* * *
A week went by, then a month, then a year.
So much had changed: Anges became pope, the world was making progress towards achieving peace, and Edea had even gotten herself the new title of Captain of the Imperial Guard. Edea would even sometimes get to have tea with Anges and they would get to talk for hours about old times, new happenings, or just what was on their mind. It was nice, and though the topic of how Tiz was doing could never be avoided it never lasted long either. Afterall, there was never a new development, and just the fact that he was still sort of alive put her friend at ease. At least outwardly.
"By the way, Edea," Anges began after a small silence, "How have you been doing?"
Edea swallowed the cake bite in her mouth and grinned, "I've been great! Being a captain sure isn't easy, but it keeps me busy and I'm really happy with how things have been going... I'm hoping to get a more stylish uniform though, the one I have now isn't my style at all."
"That's wonderful, but um..." her friend trailed off, looking unsure if she should finish, "I was actually asking about something else."
Edea was silent and confused so Anges continued, "I know you miss Ringabel terribly, and I was wondering how you were doing. I still worry about you whenever I remember Alternis telling me about you bursting into tears on the stairs..."
The blonde's face fell, not sure what to say, or where to begin for that matter.
"I'm sorry for worrying you..." she began before giving her answer, "Truth be told I've been trying to avoid anything to do with him for awhile now, but it's not helping."
Silence fell on them again before Anges said something surprising, "Do you still have his coat?"
Edea blushed as her eyes widened, "Wha-- Uh, well... Yeah, but I kinda... buried it."
Anges blinked, "Buried it?"
Edea nodded, "Yep. I was angry so I buried it." |
ba1c155ea23f4e1da76d8d153131152e | ['c058e2699e364f47a19e07ef0698e6bb'] |
Fire Sight
**Author's Note:**
> Written in response to Chuck Wendig's 'LINK' Flashfiction challenge. Limit of 1,000 words.
>
> I rolled a d20 and got pyromancy - and once I calmed down from my excited giggles, this character came to me and told me his story.
“Diviner, your skill is needed!”
Kennet jumped, blinking away the blaze in his eyes from staring at the candle in front of him. He sighed, eying the innocent flame with its lack of any subterfuge, complexity, or foretellings.
It had been relaxing, simply watching the play of a flame, even such a small one.
It seemed that he so rarely got a chance to indulge in that simple pleasure - he was so often being called upon to use his gift, to invite and pull images, visions, prophecies from the flames.
Kennet rose, closing his hand around the small flame, and walked outside.
“Diviner, please, we need you.”
Kennet sighed, looking at the figure kneeling on the dirt before him, quite unnecessarily. “Aye?” he prompted, stepping forwards and resisting the urge to nudge the boy to his feet.
“The raiding party will leave in the morn, and your skill will smooth their path, and allow us to know their fate!”
Kennet nodded, though this was not one of the things he preferred to Look for in the fire. It was true that often he could See enough to allow such parties a safer passage, or even a more assured victory.
Even if, often, the things that Kennet saw turned his stomach or made him want to weep. He had given up protesting many years ago, however, when he was still a child - this was his gift, and it belonged, through him, to his people.
At least, when they had Kennet to guide them on their path, the sacrifices to the gods could be reduced, and often kept only to livestock, at each of the major points of the year. Even knowing why, it had wounded Kennet sorely, watching the young men and women be taken to their deaths.
Especially the young women.
The fire was prepared but not, of course, lit, when Kennet made his way to the stone circle, and he carefully concealed his tiredness and his lack of enthusiasm from those gathered around.
Building the fire was a long-familiar and simple task for Kennet, and he took care to prepare himself mentally, as much as he could, while his hands worked. Eventually it was large and hot enough to Look into - and to assure the observers of its power.
Kennet crouched close enough to the flames to feel his skin tighten from the heat, and reached inside - himself, the flame, the indefinable space beyond reality. He pulled at his gift, his eyes aching as he shifted his focus to Look.
A swirling mass of colours and heat and confusion, and then images bloomed in the centre of the flames, though Kennet knew only he would truly see them - only a blur of _something_ magical would be visible to all who watched him.
The faces of warriors he knew - familiar both in his village and through his Sight - swam in the flames, at first reflections of their awed and expectant visages _now_ , then blurring into the future.
Fighting and killing, a successful raid, small things that Kennet could warn for . . . followed by an almost unqualified victory that he could assure them would come. A good use of his Sight, and a short one. . .
Kennet paused. The flames were twisting viciously, uncertain and resolute at once, and he opened the connection a little further, this time not pulling at his gift, or at the flames themselves, but allowing himself to be pulled instead.
Future blurred into now, now blurred into past, and Kennet Looked. The moon of two nights before was in the sky, but the scene being shown was a shock.
A ceremony that was painfully familiar, and a ritual fire in this very spot. That connection allowed Kennet to not only watch, but _feel_ , as a young girl he only vaguely knew - respected as he was, for his gift and for his usefulness, Kennet was somewhat apart from his tribe - was led through a dance and bound by flowers.
Then she was bound by ropes, and her hair torn from its braids to spill over her shoulders, her body arching back at a harsh pull, and-
Kennet felt himself, his body, firmly in the reality of the now, make a small sound of horrified pain as the girl’s throat was slit, and her heart stabbed. The blood flowed over the hands of each of the men in turn, the warriors Kennet sought to aid this day.
A sacrifice, a pact, and a pain that had _not_ been necessary - and had been hidden from Kennet, as though there was anything that could be hidden from his gift.
Kennet had to force himself not to be sick - not at the Sight he was shown, he was long used to that, but at the reflection of the pain from the girl, however willing she had been at first, and the triumph from the others.
The faces in the fire, painted with blood, fell away as Kennet released the fire and closed himself; not completely, but enough for his head to slowly stop spinning.
There was a choice that must be made here. And quickly.
Kennet eyed the fire and did something he rarely did - he Asked.
Images swirled, and Kennet tried not to Look, his head aching, until they settled a little. What would happen from his choice today.
Kennet Watched, and Saw . . . and chose.
Kennet pulled from the fire with a dizzy whirl and a panting attempt to catch his breath, someone offering him a chalice of water, someone else patting his back carefully.
Kennet’s mouth twisted. The hand at his back had, two nights before, plunged a knife into a young girl’s heart; the fingers cradling the chalice alongside his own had soaked in her blood, revelling in viciousness.
“If you wish to be successful on your raid. . .” Kennet began, his voice rough, vision tinted fiery in the aftermath of the Sight.
Kennet lied.
**Author's Note:**
> Kennet is an old Gaelic name and means 'born of fire'. ...sometimes I like name symbolism. | f1fa2208d6754f1ba4009db67ee0d116 | ['c058e2699e364f47a19e07ef0698e6bb'] |
New Door
**Author's Note:**
> In response to Chuck Wendig's "LINK" flashfiction challenge.
>
> Challenge parametres in end note.
Caden paused at the sight of the door.
It was thick, bound with three different kinds of metal, and had a very large magical warning sign posted on it.
What magic _had_ his master been working last night in order to create _this_?
Caden heard some unidentifiable sorcerous chanting at the witching hour, but hadn’t dared to come out and see.
. . .Michel wasn’t around _now_ , though.
Caden carefully put a hand to the door, and when it didn’t explode, shriek, cause his master to appear, or trap him in a magical cage, he let out a sigh of relief.
Then he pushed it open. There was . . . nothing?
Caden leaned forwards, poking his nose through the space, shaking a little, expecting at any moment to feel magical repercussions-
Caden shrieked as the yawning nothing snatched him up and tossed him around, instantly tearing his feet from the floor of his master’s home. There was a sickening swirl of colour and sensation and _sound_ and then-
“ _Ouch._ ” Caden said faintly, taking in the full-body throb of being slammed into whatever it was beneath him. It took him a little while to drag his wits together and get to his feet.
He was still dizzy and a little sick when he managed it, but looking around him . . . did not help in the slightest.
Not only was he somewhere entirely alien, but there was no longer a door anywhere _near_ him - it must have been a _portal_ , his master had been talking of creating a portal, how had he forgotten that?
Caden whimpered quietly, taking in the grey-brown expanse, dotted with jagged rocks and spiky grey-green plants, which stretched out around him to the walls of this new world. It was. . .
Caden was trapped, very well indeed - he could see, if only distantly, every edge of his new environment, natural walls that met the odd sky above.
At least there _was_ a sky above, but it was a dull grey-blue colour, and Caden couldn’t help but wonder what sort of dangerous magical creature would soon fly across it.
He whimpered again, but drew a deep breath and pulled for what little magic he had that could be called upon with no rituals.
It didn’t come.
Caden collapsed to the ground in a heap, trying again, then again. Eventually he had to give up, crying a little and falling to his back in the dirt. A spiky plant tangled with his shaggy hair, and he couldn’t quite gather the energy to care.
He opened his eyes again and saw- The portal!
In the next instant, Caden’s hopes were dashed. It was raised from the ground at least three or four times his own height, and without magic there was no way he could endeavour to reach it.
On the other hand. . .
“Michel! Master! _Help!_ ” Caden screamed. He was rather exposed here in the near-centre of this plane’s expanse anyway, and hopefully his master would hear, even . . . even if Michel was nowhere near the portal. “Master!”
His own voice echoed back to him, sounding not only unlike him - unlike anything human, now - but thin and easily dismissed. Caden ignored it and shouted repeatedly, though his cries went unanswered for a long time.
There was no sun above to judge the passing of time, even if Caden knew how, but his voice was steadily weakening, and his throat ached with dryness, as did his eyes.
“ _Please!_ Michel!” Caden cried, even so, desperate.
“Why do you never heed warnings?” Michel’s usually-rich voice was scratchy and strange, and echoed even more strangely through the portal, but Caden didn’t care. He nearly sobbed with relief as he saw his master’s power snaking through the portal above.
“Do stop that racket, it already feels like someone’s drilling inside my head.” Michel scolded, just as electric blue light wrapped around Caden.
He twitched but tried his best to be still and give no resistance to the magic, which curled about him and lifted him away, in a whirl.
Caden squinched his eyes closed and tried not to be sick, and didn’t see himself reach the portal, or, indeed, anything else, for long minutes.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Michel. At least, he assumed it was Michel. What he actually saw was ratty denims over slender legs, and long feet clad in fluffy blue socks.
He looked up, and noticed his master looked a little ashen. Or green. Or both, really.
Using the portal must be quite the power drain. Caden felt guilty. “Thank you, master! I’m sorry!”
“For disobeying the keep-away, or for being unable to get back through?” Michel asked crabbily. “And please let go..” he added.
Caden released Michel’s legs self-consciously. “Sorry. Where _was_ I? Why did you create a portal to that plane? Why couldn’t I use magic there? _How_ did you do it, and so quickly?” he babbled, frightened and fascinated.
He looked back at the door briefly and shuddered.
When he looked back at Michel, his master appeared . . . slightly confused.
“That plane? . . .Caden, you were in Arizona..” Michel said slowly. “I was practising opening a magical door, and . . . well, it wasn’t supposed to be so high off the ground, I didn’t account for the crater’s depth properly..” he said, with an embarrassed shrug.
“What?” Caden said blankly, shocked.
“It isn’t wise to play with inter-dimensional magics without a grounding in the sole-planar equivalents. Arizona’s Meteor Crater is fairly remote; I chose to open a door there..” Michel said slowly, rubbing his brow. “If you couldn’t use magic likely it was your own stress. Use the calming techniques I’ve taught you next time.”
Caden gaped. “No, no, wait! There- There won’t _be_ a next time, I swear!” he cried, his master already walking - slowly and carefully - away.
“Yes there will.” Michel said over his shoulder, absently, from the door to his room. “If you wake me up again before lunch I will not be happy. I have a horrible hangover. Just . . . do your rote-work for now.”
**Author's Note:**
> My location from the 'Secret Door' was . . . Meteor Crater, Arizona, of course.
>
> I barely wriggled it in under the 1,000 word limit, but it was fun to write, this silly little story and this silly little apprentice. |
61853a0c9325430d8d618dc48632d36a | ['c0701030e9014a5dab93c76317cabbdb'] | <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Todoroki
Kirishima was ecstatic, of course. He always preferred staying in to fig around at home then going out to fig around in public. The guy almost aspired to a NEET lifestyle even with a job. The only reason they ever went out at all was that Bakugou liked beer on tap.
“I call Diva,” Kirishima said.
“No. Fuck you. I want Diva,” Bakugou snapped. The way the two always argued over the character never ceased to amuse Todoroki. The two had such different priorities. Kirishima thought Diva was a great wifau but the only thing Bakugou was sexual attracted to was mechs. Gundam was the only series he actively sought out. The rest Kirishima and Todoroki had to drag him into.
“As long as I get Hanzo,” Todoroki said.
“Yes,” Bakugou said. “We know you want Hanzo, now shut up.”
“Hi guys!” Midoriya said. He smiled and sat down on his seat. “It’s nice that it’s finally Friday, right?”
“Hell yeah!” Kirishima said, pumping his fist.
Todoroki had gotten marginally better at existing in the same general area as the blinding glory that was Midoriya Izuku. He was even able to muster up a hello without diving under the table.
“Great job on surviving your first week,” Kirishima said.
“It was nothing,” Midoriya said.
“It was nothing,” Bakugou said.
“Come on Bakugou,” Kirishima said. “Would it kill you to play nice once in a while?”
“I’m serious,” Bakugou said. “Nothing ever happens here. You don’t got to do shit to fly under the radar. Even you can fly under the radar here. Hawks’ motto is literally to do your job well enough that you can have as much leisure time as you need.”
“Don’t expose us like this!” Kirishima said with a laugh, but Todoroki was frowning. Why’d he have to phrase it like that? Was leisure time a problem? The guy staid up to all hours playing his Mario games so he didn’t have any high horse to sit up on.
“That’s okay,” Midoriya said. “My last job was so high stress. A little nothing sounds pretty good to me!”
Bakugou shot him a disgusted look. “High stress my ass.”
Todoroki drummed his fingers on the table.
“What?” Midoriya asked.
“What Bakugou is trying to say is that you’re an idiot for being here.” Todoroki caught Bakugou’s gaze and held it. “A stunning realization I’m sure nobody saw coming.”
“Oooooh,” Midoriya said. “That is a very Kachan thing to say.”
Kirishima laughed, missing the point by a mile. To be fair, though, Midoriya was smiling too.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I was watching the first Guardians of The Galaxy trailer for the thousandth time two days ago. My favorite part is at the end when one of the guys from Zandar says "They call themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy." and the other responds "What a bunch of a-holes." So I thought, hey, what if Todoroki and Kirishma swore like that? Now the two are going to unironically say the dumbest shit instead of shit, fuck, and crap for the entirety of the fic and there's nothing any of you can do to stop it.
>
> Today's recommendation is Re Zero! Why? Because none of the characters would shut up about it. I wasn't planning to include that reference, it just happened. It's pretty popular, so you might already know it (unlike my last recommendation, My Hero Academia, which is so obscure that you've probably never heard of it). If you haven't then...uh. Rem. It's like Sword Art Online but good and edgy, I guess. Lots of death. Lots of gore. A really fun time. Rem. I haven't actually watched this show, but I've picked up the entire plot through osmosis. Rem. Who's Rem? Get out of the way Ochaco, best girl is coming through. Emelia? NO! This Light Novel adaptation also has a really good plot, and by plot I mean Rem. Watch it for Rem. Rem.
>
> Until next week, Carry On My Wayward SoOoOoOoON
>
> Rem.
4. What If My Hero Academia Had Been A Light Novel? I Have Regular Nightmares About It.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Nerd Squad continues to fail at life, and Izuku wants to be included.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hi! I decided to post early because I can. Hope you guys enjoy!
**Midoriya**
Midoriya woke up in a panic.
Crap! His alarm hadn’t gone off again. He was going to be late for work! Again! Midoriya scrambled out of the covers and fell with a thump on the floor. He grabbed his phone and checked the time. Shit! He only had thirty minutes to make it…
Oh.
It was Saturday.
Collapsing under his weight, he sunk into the carpet. Saturday. An entire day. What to do?
There were a million things to do, of course. Actually stocking up his fridge with food wasn’t the least of which, but he couldn’t convince himself to get up off the floor. Coffee? There wasn’t any in the pantry. Should he go out to Starbucks or whatever passed for a coffee shop around these parts? No. He didn’t feel like driving and he sure as hell wasn’t up for walking.
The carpet was nice.
Midoriya’s eyes wouldn’t close. They wandered around the empty room. He still hadn’t started unpacking the boxes, so his bedroom was still completely bare. If he was going to do one thing today, it should be that.
Get up.
Get up.
His fingers spread across the carpet of their own accord. Midoriya pushed upward and managed to somehow get on his knees. Progress. Midoriya sighed, leaning against the edge of his bed. The ceiling was white. Blindingly white. The light shining from outside seemed harsher than it had on Monday. Of course, it did. Of course, his first day off was a bad one. | 22c3c19fd2514b318ac1345af7cde4b5 | ['c0701030e9014a5dab93c76317cabbdb'] | Todoroki didn’t even send a fierce look in Bakugou’s direction, only advanced on the phone. He checked the caller ID before answering it.
Momo.
His finger hesitated over the green receive button but inevitably pressed it.
“Hello?”
“I’m quitting my job,” she said. “I’m no longer Hawk’s secretary anymore.”
**Yaoyorozu**
“You’ll make more money,” Hawks said, casually, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll meet new people, especially men.”
Yaoyorozu stood shell shocked. A promotion? To what? Where? Why?
Somewhere far away from her friends.
Maybe this wasn’t the horror of being exposed as an Otaku to a potential love interest, but this didn’t make any sense. She already worked too hard as it was. Could she handle it?
The disappointment.
The grueling day after day, and now without her friends. Maybe now there were no boys to pick from. But would they ever accept her for the hobbies she loved? How could she write love into reality?
She thought now.
Maybe now she should give up on love. As it turned out, love was hard for otaku.
This was her reality.
“Excuse me,” she said, and then rushed out of the office. As soon as she was out, she raised her phone with shaking hands and called Todoroki.
This was how she’d move forward.
Looked like she’d become a NEET. |
9fdc0635f043426bab2a4199d4a446df | ['c07539e73b0549208e90559fb13722ba'] |
1. Chapter 1
Katya Volskaya’s sharp, pale blue eyes widened as she realized who the voice on the other end of the call belonged to. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to hear it for a very long time. The alpha woman was in her office, arms crossed against her chest, high tech earpiece buzzing with sound. Workers of Volskaya Industries hustled back and forth in uniforms, some in mechs and some not. This company was like a child to her. It was her life’s work that she has sacrificed so much for. Time and her family were but two things she had given up. She would do whatever it took to keep it alive. Including deal with this annoying woman. Katya turned her attention away from the beautiful view below her, sliding the shades of her large window shut and sitting against the edge of her desk. She didn’t want to be seen or overheard during this. She couldn’t risk it
“How are you?” the voice asked. Subtle, seductive, and just a little bit husky. Her heart quickened at the tone, despite who it belonged to. She couldn’t help it. The omega was attractive. Just her type, if she wasn’t a damned terrorist. The Latino hacker didn’t care that she was an omega she still took what she wanted, and eagerly, nonetheless she was a terrorist. Even worse, she was blackmailing her, threatening Katya’s baby girl…
But Katya’s body didn’t care about that, even if the rest of her did. “Amiga, have you been a good girl?” Being spoken to like this was humiliating. What did the little Mexican omega gain from this? An ego boost? Did she enjoy knowing she was capable of bringing an alpha, the leader of an entire country, to her knees if she wanted to?" She hesitated to answer.
That’d be letting the omega win. Katya leaned back further into her desk, spreading her legs just a little. The hacker’s voice sent pulsing heat from her chest, downward. Between her thighs, her cock throbbed. She ached. Her alpha was stirring at the sweet tone, growing angrier when it realized that this omega was controlling her. It was against her very nature and, just like when the girl had begun blackmailing her, her alpha demanded she take back the power somehow. The voice purring into her ear turned into a giggle and, belatedly, Katya realized she had begun growling low in her chest.
“Mmm, I love that sound.”
Familiar and sweet, almost innocent. It was disturbing, considering it belonged to the woman who was blackmailing her. A terrorist. She repeated that part repeatedly in her brain to make her body understand, but it was refusing to listen, and warmed at the sound of the omega’s approval.
Katya hesitated, a crease between her brow. “I didn’t expect you to call upon me so soon. A bit of notice would have been appreciated.” She tried to keep her tone cold and unreadable, but a bit of an edge entered it.
There was a brief silence. “With an attitude like that, it seems you’ve forgotten the little situation you’ve gotten yourself into, Amiga…Sad to see our deal’s off so soon. The images will be released in- “
Hurriedly, Katya interrupted. Her heart hammered in her chest. With just a few words, this unknown woman could fill her with complete terror. "Wait!" She hadn't raised her voice above a sharp reprimand in a long time. "I apologize." She hated what it felt like to be so terrified, controlled like a puppet. It was aggravating. Unnerving. The fact that it was an omega doing this to her made it even more enraging.
“I’ll let it go just this once, but only because you’re so cute.”
Katya flushed, her face burning at the treatment. At the situation. Damn it all. She forced herself to calm down, despite the fact that the alpha inside her was roaring, demanding she rebel. But she was the president of Volskaya Industries for a reason. She had controlled her urges for years, and she would continue to do so. No amount of anger would make her lose her carefully maintained control, especially not with what was at risk. “What do you want from me? And what should I call you?”
“‘Mistress’ works,” the omega snickered on the other end. Katya growled again. “Put your fangs away. It was a joke. Gosh, you are adorable.” Mocking, cruel. No alpha wanted to be called adorable. Not like this. “Hmm, I guess you can call me…Sombra, if you must call me anything.” Katya shelved that information in the back of her head for later.
The girl would regret giving her name. One day.
“As for what I want from you…” The teasing voice lowered into a deep husky tone. “I’m wet, Amiga. I want you to help me get off.” The image hit Katya suddenly. The attractive little hacker - wet for her. Perhaps not strictly for her, but wet and choosing Katya to satisfy her urges. The alpha had been getting aroused before but Sombra’s words stole the last of her restraint, and the animal inside of her awakened. Katya snarled, eyes half lidded as she resisted the urge to touch the rising swell of her erection. Her mouth was suddenly wet, heart pounding.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Asks the woman betraying her own country.”
Katya was silenced by that. She grit her teeth. The brat would never understand what Katya was doing. that it was for the good of her own country, her people. Or perhaps she did, but didn’t care. “Even you wouldn’t stoop this low.”
“Saying something like that,” Sombra chuckled, “makes it obvious you know nothing about me.” | f9a08e27336c4975893160c44dd6c727 | ['c07539e73b0549208e90559fb13722ba'] | She’d known for a long time that Carver had some form of feelings for her. At first, she had been offended. Carver insisted she was “different” than the other girls. She thought maybe he meant literally. That the only thing that stuck out to him was the fact that she was an elf. Pair that with the fact that he was a jerk to basically everyone, and she felt…fetishized. But it was more than that, what Carver felt for her. She didn’t know why, but she knew that. He made her feel safe. The main reason being that Carver was a templar, and despite looking down on her use of blood magic, despite his fear of it…he had never turned her in.
Despite that, she really didn’t know him much. He didn’t like talking about himself. But Merrill desperately wanted to. The dream had been amazing, actually. Merrill wanted that, to feel the touch of his skin, his muscles against her body. But first, she wanted to hold his hand. To kiss him. To talk to him…
Merrill walked, in a daze, through Hightown. She hoped to find Garrett. If anyone knew how to talk to Carver, and start something with him it was his brother. As usual, eyes latched onto her as she walked. And they were not lustful gazes, or even admiring. She was not Isabela. She was Merrill. She had helped get the Qunari out of the city, but to the citizens of Kirkwall she was nothing more than dirt. The staff on her back made it painfully obvious she was a mage, and her pointed ears and tattoos made it obvious she was not just an elf…but a Dalish Elf. A proud elf.
So they hated her.
Humans were like that. Carver wasn’t…
Not for the first time that morning, Merrill wondered if what she was doing was a terrible idea. Trying to ask Carver out, get into a relationship - and then hopefully bed- with him. Who knew if Carver was actually interested in her? Sure, they flirted and his eyes watched her hips when she walked and when their bodies touched for even a second he blubbered like a fool, but that didn’t necessarily mean the younger Hawke _ wanted _ her. Especially not romantically. Perhaps he just wanted to sleep with her! Perhaps he wasn’t good with girls! After all, he blushed at Isabela too!
“Right then,” Merrill abruptly turned around. She’d go home, go to sleep, and forget this entire ignorant idea. He was a human; she was an elf. He was a templar and she was a mage. A blood mage. They wouldn’t make a very good couple. The elf stopped, eyes narrowed.
Where the heck was she? She cursed when she realized she did not have her yarn with her when she went to the Hanged Man that morning. Human cities were so big and confusing. Like their men, Merrill realized. She giggled at the thought. She sighed as she searched around with her eyes, trying to find a familiar sight. Everything in this city looked the same! She bit her bottom lip, before shrugging. If she kept walking she had to make it somewhere eventually. In theory.
Find something she did. Sights started becoming familiar to her. Yes, that was the Blooming Rose and there was one of the many exits from Hightown! Relief flowed through her. Then, her eyes widened, when someone _ very familiar _ stepped out of the Blooming Rose. A man, much taller than her, with dark hair hanging down to his shoulders. His bright blue eyes were twinkling, and he was grinning like a fool.
She didn’t remember moving, but in the next second she was in front of him.
“M-Merrill?!”
“Hello Carver,” she greeted pleasantly, though for some reason, she was feeling rather irritable. Something about the way his beautiful blue eyes were glazed over with satisfaction. And there was of course, the slowness of his movement and his speech. He behaved like a man who had recently made love. And it…bothered her. Because she was dreaming of him, thinking of him and he was…in a whore house.
She was no fool. She knew exactly what went on in this filthy place.
She took satisfaction in the fact that Carver was bright, cherry red. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m…doing templar research. I mean, an investigation…I’m doing…stuff,” he explained, rubbing the back of his head.
“Busy work, is it,” she asked, green eyes twinkling, “you sure are sweating a lot…”
He cleared his throat with a cough. “Yep! Very busy work…Erhm…Right then. I should go report to my officer.” He began to walk away.
_ I’m a sexy lioness. _
“Would you like to do some templar research in my home,” she asked.
The younger Hawke went absolutely still. He didn’t even twitch. For a solid minute. Then, slowly, he turned around to gaze at her. His face was pure red, his eyes two blue crystals among all that red. His mouth was hanging open. “M-Merrill?” His voice broke, and it reached a very high octave.
_ I’m a sexy lioness! _
“I’m not stupid, Carver. I know what kind of research you were doing in there.”
He buried his face in his hands, obviously humiliated. “Shit,” he whispered. She realized that perhaps the front of the Blooming Rose wasn’t the best place for this kind of discussion. The elf gently touched his shoulder and now he twitched, and his eyes met hers. “Merrill did you just offer-“ |
789895c3ad3e424e8242ff81fe736c2b | ['c090acba0e35475bb2a36509e0956136'] | "How are you doing that?" she asked breathily.
"I did some research and read it was possible, so thought it was worth a try."
"Let me try," she said and repeated similar motions on her own mark. "Anything?"
He made an apologetic sound. "It seems to be a meta thing, sorry."
"Hm," she said, frowning down at her wrist. "It works if I'm in direct contact with your mark but not from a distance. That doesn't seem very fair."
But she was slipping her foot out of her shoe as she spoke and the moment she made contact with his leg, he startled slightly.
"I guess I'll just have to figure something else out, won't I?" she said and gave him a gently devious smile.
"I suppose you will," he said and the tone of his voice went higher as her toes slid upwards along his calf. He cleared his throat as she traced a circle against his knee.
He shifted restlessly, then deliberately rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth along one edge of his soulmark, first with a barely perceptible touch, then firmer, then back to soft.
She had to grab the edge of the table as a warm wave of arousal spread through her. His smile was unmistakable, even through the blur of motion.
She stretched so to continue her journey up along the inside of his thigh. _It's still a little surreal that I know which side the Reverse Flash dresses to,_ she thought, brushing her foot from toe to heel against the unmistakable bulge in his suit.
Whatever he intended to say came out was a mishmash of buzzing sounds.
"Is that so?" she said and licked her lips daintily when he looked at her.
"Bad girl," he murmured and, with great deliberation, swept his tongue over the pad of his thumb and then applied it with long strokes against his soulmark.
The feeling of being touched was so strong she couldn't resist the urge to look down.
"I actually can be in two places at once if I want," he said, managing to achieve a very conversational tone once more. "But in this case, I'm not. I-- Oh."
She put her other foot up onto his thigh, bracketing him between the soles of her feet and stroking him a few times with varying degrees of firmness.
Vibration briefly covered his entire body, shaking hard enough she could feel it rumbling through the floor up the legs of her chair. She grabbed her plate of cake as the table did a little dance, then caught the nearest candle as it tipped.
He put a hand on her feet to forestall any other movement. "Apparently, I'm not as good at multitasking as I thought," he admitted. "Might we move this somewhere I'm not as likely to set on fire?"
"But what about dessert?" she asked in _her_ best innocent voice and slowly took another bite of cake while flexing her toes.
He seemed to forget how to speak for a moment, then blurred out of sight and the next thing she knew, the plates were gone and she heard the refrigerator door close before he reappeared at her side.
"My dear, I intend to make _you_ the dessert," he said huskily, holding out his hand.
She grinned and let him pull her up from the chair.
***
Caitlin woke a while later, instinctively reaching her hand out and finding the bed cold next to her. But then the mattress shifted and she realized he was sitting on the edge. He moved again and she could see the soft glow of his soulmark in the darkness.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice slightly sleep-roughened.
"Everything ends, you know," he said. "This will end eventually, too. One way or another."
He'd never shown this sort of a melancholy side before and, for a moment, she wasn't sure what to say. She shrugged out from under the covers and crawled over to him, pressing herself against his back and resting her chin on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him.
"You're right," she agreed softly. "So I suppose all we can do is enjoy the time we have."
He sat there quietly for a few more moments before exhaling heavily. "I suppose so," he said.
"Come lay back down," she murmured, tugging gently on him. He generally liked to be the big spoon whenever they were curled together but this time, he caught her on her back and put his head on her chest, wrapping around her like he thought she'd vanish if he wasn't holding on tightly enough.
She kissed the top of his head and eventually went to sleep while he listened to her heartbeat.
***
"No, no, no," Caitlin chanted under her breath. "The meta's turning around. Cisco, can you get out of there?"
A loud, echoing splash blared through the comms, making her wince.
"I'd say that's a no," Dr. Wells murmured, his hands flying over the keyboard. "Still no response from Barry. I don't know if his comms were fried or if he's unconscious."
"Vitals are steady," she reported, automatically leaning forward in her seat. "Barry, can you hear us? Cisco's in trouble. You need to get back to the water tower."
"Guys, a little problem here." Cisco's voice shook with effort as he treaded water. "This thing is filling up fast."
"Hang on, Cisco," Caitlin said, trying to keep her tone steady and reassuring. She momentarily muted the mic to Cisco's comm and spoke directly to Barry. "Come on, Barry. Cisco doesn't have a lot of time. Get back to the water tower and get him out as fast as you can."
Barry's vitals were unchanging and he remained unmoving. She made a frustrated noise, shoving away from her desk.
The craziest notion went through her and she almost _said it_ before clamping down on her tongue. _That doesn't make any sense. Why would I think--?_ | 82d1674e185a44559add157c87d7bb41 | ['c090acba0e35475bb2a36509e0956136'] |
Best Served
**Author's Note:**
> I knew I wanted to write this scene but I struggled with how to approach it until I realized that Caitlin might like the chance to serve up a little revenge. And there's only one proper way to do that, of course... ;) If you read, I hope you enjoy! ♥
>
> Also at LINK. ;)
"Caitlin, I'm glad to see you. I wasn't sure if you would come."
She released the handle of the food cart and, without acknowledging the greeting, pulled out a folding chair from the bottom of the cart and set it up.
"Are we eating together, then? Good, that will give us a chance to talk."
Her shoulders tensed but she forced herself to keep going. On the top of the cart were two bags bearing the distinctive logo of Big Belly Burger and she opened the nearest, taking out a wrapped burger, carton of fries and a large soft drink.
This part was harder. She had to look at him, she **had** to, or she would appear cowed and afraid, not confident and disdainful.
She raised her head and met his gaze directly, relieved that she only flinched on the inside. It had been a long time since she'd seen him standing but even that was a minor mental adjustment. The lack of glasses he obviously had never needed -- no wonder he was forever taking them off; she should have caught that, she was a scientist, why hadn't she been more observant? -- was another adjustment as well. But it was the unfamiliar expression on his oh-so-familiar face that disconcerted her the most.
Arrogance. Not that Dr. Harrison Wells hadn't had his own fair share of ego, of course, but it had been tempered by a desire to do right, by a heart. When she looked at this **Eobard Thawne** , she saw none of that. She saw brilliance without pity, without compassion, without decency or goodness.
Or was she simply casting her own feelings of betrayal onto him?
_It doesn't matter,_ she thought. _Stick to the plan._
"I assume you have an accelerated metabolism?" Again, she was glad that her tone was calm and professional, revealing nothing of the emotional turmoil beneath.
He studied her a moment, clearly evaluating her strategy. "Your assumption is correct, Dr. Snow."
He made a minute change in the way he was standing and all of the sudden he was himself again, he was Harrison Wells, her friend, her mentor, her partner in science, and it was as if this were merely some theory they were hashing over, bouncing ideas off each other until the solution could be found.
_He put the mask back on_.
The realization, the irrefutable proof that the man she had cared about for so many years was nothing more than a constructed persona, felt like a hole being carved into the center of her chest. Cold fury flooded into that wound and it was from that icy place that she found the smile she gave him.
"You must be hungry, then," she said, putting her hand on the second bag on the tray.
"I am, as a matter of fact," he said but he had observed the change in her demeanor and it pleased her that he seemed to not know how to interpret it.
"Good," she said and sat down in the chair and calmly unwrapped her food.
She ate in unhurried bites, keeping her eyes locked on him the entire time. His expression initially went blank, almost a predator's unblinking stare, but the longer she continued to eat, something began to bleed through the blankness.
Pride.
_That makes no sense, why would he be_ proud _of me for this?_
But by the time she finished off the last of her fries, there was no mistaking the smile that curved his mouth and lit his eyes with an undeniably devilish glee.
"Why, Dr. Snow," he nearly purred. "Did you ever imagine you could be so... cold?"
It clearly was a joke she wasn't in on. Her lips pressed together briefly in a thin line as she stuffed her trash back in the bag then stood. She intended to walk away at that point but found herself striding stiffly over to stand in front of the containment cell.
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think," she said, her voice tight from the effort it took to keep from shouting. Her hand pressed against the glass, fingertips scrabbling against the slick surface as if she could somehow reach through it to grab his collar and **shake him** as hard as she could.
He stepped closer in return until he was pressing back against the other side of the glass, arms wide-spread, as if offering himself to her phantom grasp. "Maybe I know you better than you'd ever guess," he said softly. "I'm from _the future_ , Caitlin. Don't you think that I might know a few things as to how you turn out?"
Something about the way he looked at her with such sudden confidence made her uneasy. And, as she usually did when she felt uncertain, she fell back on science. "The future has too many variables. You can't be sure of anything."
He shifted, leaning down so near that, were they not separated by the cell, she would've thought he meant to kiss her. "True. But so many of those variables combine to one common truth: you and I are not done with each other just yet. We'll be together again one day, you'll see."
She pushed backwards, struggling to recover her equilibrium. "Enjoy your dinner," she said curtly and turned on her heel to walk away, pausing only to straighten the other bag so that the Big Belly Burger logo was as prominent as possible, so he couldn't help but see it sitting out of reach on the cart.
For a moment, she thought that she had seen an odd mark on the glass, like her hand had left a print of condensation, but she didn't want to ruin her exit by glancing back. And, of course, that was impossible at any rate: the cell wasn't refrigerated so it had to have just been some trick of the light.
She retreated to the lab where she found a place out of the way where she could hide from everyone else and sip a cup of tea and do her best to **not** watch him on the monitor. Exactly half an hour later, she sent Cisco down with an actual bag of food from Big Belly Burger, the one on the cart having just been a decoy -- not only was she against wasting food in general but wasting a perfectly good burger was more of a crime than she was willing to commit to prove her point.
He didn't even look at Cisco as he passed the food through to him; he kept his gaze on the security camera, smiling that same knowing smile the entire time. Then, as if he could feel her eyes on him, he winked and blew her a kiss.
She shivered and turned the monitor off, telling herself that the only thing she felt was disgust. She hurried back to join Ronnie and the others, too distracted in her haste to realize that she had left her tea cup behind.
It glittered in the light, frozen solid. |
dbc1d45f39594581a533e0e6ced37cd8 | ['c119df82ef304eac95af29aefa7d87bd'] | He rubbed his jaw and nodded. “So what are you suggesting besides keeping an eye on him?”
“Just pay attention to any rumors that start that might mess with people’s heads—about Mom, the _kongeda_ , Grounders, the mountain—anything that doesn’t seem to have a reason for circulating. Jax doesn’t like to fight his own battles, but he’s one of those who plants seeds.”
“And if he does?”
“Call him out. And start some rumor campaigns of your own.”
He raised his eyebrows again.
“Like that never happened on the Ark,” she said with a scoff. “It’s important that you pay attention to even one person trying to stir things up. Because one person can do a lot of damage to internal unity.”
“Okay,” he said, but Clarke saw a touch of skepticism in his eyes.
“You need to get past that generational divide thing. Just because someone’s young doesn’t mean they’re not capable of causing serious problems. And tomorrow I’ll tell you more.”
“I don’t for a minute think that being young is indicative of a lack of any kind of ability. I might have in the past, but certain parties have changed my mind in that regard.” He smiled. “I’ll see you later. Get some rest.” He walked away and was immediately accosted by a couple of people who appeared to need to ask him a bunch of questions. She watched him for a few moments, thinking that he was much better with people in the day-to-day mundane situations than Abby, though he hadn’t always been that way.
The ground had changed them all, maybe. Or perhaps it was the responsibility of taking lives that weighed on him, on making the decision to pull a lever, in a manner of speaking. She knew that burden. Knew it intimately. She turned and went to the building that housed Raven’s lab, feeling the chill of ghosts, but these days it was more an echo than a companion and she wondered if it was because she had stopped fighting her feelings not only in that regard but in others, too.
“Hey, Griff,” Raven said when she pushed the door of the lab open. “What’s up?”
She closed the door behind her. “I talked to Jackson. He said he’d consult with Sinclair and probably you about the poison.”
“Okay.” She was checking her shelves.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing in particular. But I can tell if somebody borrowed something and didn’t bring it back.” She used a snarky emphasis on “borrowed.”
“I thought you kept this place locked.”
“I do, but Sinclair has the code and it _is_ a workshop, so there are tools and shit that people need and Sinclair sometimes is a little too trusting with the code. I change it every few days, but…” she rolled her eyes. “He’s a great dude, but damn.”
Clarke sat at one of the stools at Raven’s big worktable. “What’s your sense of Jax?”
“Can’t stand him.” She bent and checked another shelf.
“Why not?”
“He’s one of those manipulative assholes—” she straightened and looked at her. “Are you feeling guilty about not lifting his banishment?”
“No. Just a little worried about how people here will take it.”
“You’re in luck. He’s not popular. You don’t need to justify it.”
“I have to talk to the council tomorrow.”
“Ah. This calls for a Raven special.”
Clarke gave her a look. “A what?”
“Trust me. When have I ever steered you wrong?” She put her hand up when Clarke started to retort. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.” And then she went into the adjoining room and Clarke heard her moving around. She emerged with a battered metal canteen and two equally battered metal cups.
“Every once in a while Jasper and Monty make a good batch.” She set a cup in front of Clarke and unscrewed the top of the canteen then poured some of the liquid into it. She did the same thing with the other cup. “Lincoln added a local herb.”
Clarke picked up her cup and sniffed. It had the pungent smell of strong alcohol but also a woodsy, mellow smell. She sipped. Strong, but definitely much smoother than the usual that Monty and Jasper mixed. “Not bad,” she admitted.
“I’m giving credit to Lincoln.” Raven tapped her cup against Clarke’s. “I know I’m not the easiest to deal with, but for real, Clarke. I’m really glad you’re still here.”
“Same to you.” She took another sip.
“Don’t worry about the council,” Raven said. “Sinclair’s there. And Kane. And Terra is always asking Lincoln questions about what grows down here. She’s totally willing to work with Grounders. And Miller’s dad is just interested in what keeps Arkadia cohesive and working to making things into a more permanent settlement.” She leaned on the table next to her. “Terra knows Jax. Not a fan.”
That was good news.
“Seriously. It’ll be fine.”
She shrugged and sipped. “Nothing is ever fine down here. There are contingencies and then extra contingencies but nothing ever goes according to plan.”
“Point taken. But what the hell is obsessing about it now going to do?”
She laughed, surprised at this more relaxed version of Raven. “Gina is a good influence on you.”
She shot her a look. “You know who else might be a good influence?”
“Wait until I drink more before we talk about that.”
Her eyes widened. “Fine. But Gina’s told me about Terra. She’s not a fan of Pike’s, either. And Gina grew up on Farm Station. She’s known Jax most of her life. He wasn’t popular before we came to the ground and he’s still not.” She took a drink. “I think most people would be glad to see him leave.”
“They might get their wish,” she muttered against the rim of her cup. | b32eb71cd3e445b6bdd45c6beb34f965 | ['c119df82ef304eac95af29aefa7d87bd'] | “Lexa—” Clarke said against her mouth as her hips bucked and Lexa smiled and released her wrists then moved her own hands down Clarke’s torso, slowly over her breasts, drawing chills from Clarke’s skin and another groan from her lips.
She followed her hands with her lips and tongue, and Clarke writhed and moaned softly as Lexa worked her way down, senses full of her, of the faint taste of salt in the sweat on her chest, of the smell of the soap she had used earlier that day, of the sweet, heady tang of desire. And she carried the aroma of what Lexa knew of the sky, of the cool, open, expanse of neverending blue, and it all wrapped around her like one of Clarke’s embraces, like the way she sometimes looked at her.
Lexa pushed her thighs apart and circled her with her tongue and Clarke tangled her hands in her hair and moaned again, which was all the encouragement she needed and she gripped Clarke’s thighs and brought her slowly and teasingly to a razor’s edge of release. And then she stopped, the taste of her clinging to her mouth, and Clarke trembled and hissed between her teeth and Lexa slid two fingers into her heat, and her groan echoed Clarke’s as Clarke thrust against her. She braced herself with her other hand and stared down at her, and Clarke arched against her and gripped her shoulders almost painfully but she stared back, and as release flooded through her, she managed to cup Lexa’s cheek, and then her eyes closed and she fell back with a long, low moan and Lexa’s name on her lips.
Clarke shuddered with a few aftershocks but Lexa didn’t relent and soon coaxed her close to another peak but this time Clarke worked her fingers between them and when she entered her, Lexa almost collapsed. She barely managed to keep her arm braced on the bed as Clarke increased the speed of her thrusts and kissed her hard and Lexa’s breath caught in her throat and all she could do was ride the sensations coursing through her like waves crashing onto a beach, and it was almost too much, too deep, too overpowering, and somewhere she heard what might have been a sob.
“Lexa. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes, realizing the sob was hers, and found, amidst the clash of intimacy and vulnerability that roiled within, safety and warmth in Clarke’s eyes.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke’s, breathing heavily. “I know,” she said, and Clarke brushed a kiss over her lips.
“Stay with me,” she said softly, stroking Lexa’s cheek with her free hand.
She nodded and smiled. “Always.”
Clarke’s eyes filled with things unspoken and what might have been tears and she started moving her fingers again, slowly, and Lexa relaxed with her, matching her strokes to Clarke’s, until she felt the waves gather again, and saw them mirrored in Clarke’s eyes. She locked her gaze with Clarke’s, and then she crested and they were both falling, and Clarke pulled her into a hot, messy kiss on the way down and pushed her tongue into Lexa’s mouth and they shared a groan as Lexa collapsed against her.
Clarke held her close as their breathing returned to normal, and Lexa calmed even more, listening to Clarke’s heartbeat, shivering a little at her light touch as she drew patterns on her back with her fingertips. After a while, she carefully withdrew and Clarke did the same and Lexa wrapped herself around her and pressed her lips gently against Clarke’s neck.
“I like this beginning we have,” Clarke said with a soft laugh.
Lexa smiled and nuzzled her neck.
“No, actually, I love it.” She kissed Lexa’s forehead.
Lexa propped herself on her elbow and studied Clarke’s face in the flickering light of the few candles still burning near the bed. “As do I.”
Clarke started to say something then stopped and pulled her into a long, sweet, slow kiss and Lexa melted into it, let herself get lost in it, and made a noise of protest as Clarke pulled away.
“Not to worry, _Heda_ ,” Clarke said with a smirk. “Because it’s my turn. Provided that’s all right with you.” And she pushed Lexa onto her back, straddled her hips, and pinned her wrists to the furs.
Lexa arched an eyebrow. “ _Sha_ ,” she said with an answering smirk and Clarke’s smile lit another fire between Lexa’s thighs, sent heat shooting up her back.
“ _Heda_ is very wise."
“So is _Wanheda_.”
Clarke kept her pinned and leaned down and nipped at her neck. “Shhh,” she said “No more talking.”
And there wasn’t.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hi, all! Okay, so, I wanted to leave you with some more Clexa because...Clexa. Also, I rather like figuring out how they express themselves with each other privately and navigate physical interactions as they get more comfortable with each other. We didn't get to really see that in the show, but that's what fanfic reboots are for! WOOO! REALLY hope you enjoy the scene between them here. I sweated this one, too. I always worry that I'm not doing them justice.
>
> And yeah, Lexa also prepares for the worst in terms of Nia. But that's how she is. Always thinking ahead, taking all kinds of contingencies into consideration. Neither Titus nor Indra are pleased about the thought of Lexa possibly losing to Nia in a challenge, but they understand Lexa's prepping.
>
> Okay, I'm on the road next week and most likely will not be posting. :( But look for another chapter or two the week after, around the 27th-28th. We might get lucky before that, but most likely around then.
> |
27314cd381454ee5b5d5d59be555177a | ['c13156fb39f740c18041710a640a52aa'] | Hours passed with medical staff checking in occasionally, seeing nothing out of the ordinary left her alone to sleep. When Caroline did open her eyes, blue eyes went searching for the male voice she remembered. Spotting no one around she carefully got out of bed, using the stick with her IV attached Caroline went searching for something to help clear the thirst out of her thought.
“ _Why am I so thirsty? What time is it? Where the hell is everyone?”_ Caroline thought, searching for several minutes before finally spotting the night nurse.
“Hello Dear, you really have to go back to your bed” The nurse scolded her.
“But I am so thirty” She whispered, her eyes narrowing at the throat of the nurse.
“Back to bed with you” The nurse ushered her into the room, not noticing that Caroline had tucked a blood bags under her gown. Sitting on her bed, once the door, and the blonde took one out opening it and took a sip.
Moaning, Caroline felt good, the blood felt so good she squeezed the bag drowning it in seconds. She pulled out another and drank.
**XXXXXX**
**Mystic Falls, 2010**
Elena was at a booth table talking with another of one the school’s volunteers. She had only just sent Renesmee off with Bella to enjoy the fair shrugging off the vampires help. Katherine was nowhere to be found much to Elena’s relief.
“ _Never thought I would be seeing double_ ” Elena thought to herself only to see Damon right before he stood beside her.
“Elena” Damon spoke softly.
“Damon” She replied stiff miffed between him and now Katherine’s seemingly new found bond with her cousin. How was she going to explain this to them? Katherine the Great Bitch was now forever in her family not only due to being an ancestor but rather her own cousin’s sister.
Never mind her own boyfriend was her cousin’s sibling as well. Elena once thought her life could not get any more complicated then Katherine returned. At least her friends would not change.
“Elena I need you to come with me.”
“Not right now Damon.”
“Elena, listen you need to come with me right now,” He insisted finally gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the booth. Damon did not let go until he reached an abandoned classroom pulling her inside with Stefan.
“Damon! What’s going on?” Elena cried out as Stefan pulled her into a soft hug glaring at his brother’s rough treatment.
“Caroline”
Elena’s heart skipped a beat, “Caroline? What happened?”
“She’s turned into a vampire.”
“How could this have happened?” Stefan asked his hands already running through his hair as he looked over at Elena in concern.
“Clearly Katherine killed her,” Damon shrugged.
“Caroline said that?” Elena asked knowing full well just what the brunette was capable of, however would Katherine have had enough time? Elena had rarely seen Katherine without her two newly found family members.
“Well, no” Damon admitted with a shrug.
“Damon, what did Caroline say?”
“That she remembers, all the compulsion from the past is fading now that she is turning into one of us” Damon quipped, in a voice Elena was starting to consider his I care but don’t want to and will not say so voice.
“Then you don’t know Katherine did it,” Elena replied, unable to really think that she was standing up for Katherine.
“Elena…”
“No Damon. Katherine could hardly have had the time. She’s hardly been away from Bella since…”
“Bella?” Stefan asked, eyes immediately seeking his own brothers who frowned at the reminder of their past.
“My cousin,” Elena answered quickly, only to curse realizing the two would catch on.
Stefan and Damon had both immediately shared a look, one that Elena knew meant they were having a conversation only she had only ever seen between her own parents.
“What the hell is Katherine up to? First Caroline now…”
“Katherine wouldn’t hurt Bella,” Elena defended, knowing perfectly well that Bella could and would defend herself. Despite her lack of fight the night before, Elena knew that if needed Bella would fight anyone to project Renesmee.
“Of course, she would, Katherine is up to something we just need to figure out what. We need to find Caroline before she hurts someone then we can help her.”
“No, she wouldn’t” Elena pulled away from the soft grip Stefan had on her, stopping the brothers from the hunt to gather Caroline.
The Salvatore’s looked at her as she forced them to stop, “Elena we don’t have time to fight on this… you don’t know Katherine…. And we need to find Caroline right now she could hurt someone.”
“Auntie Elena?”
The three turned to find Renesmee standing in front of the high school doors that led straight to the festival. Elena carefully stepped forward allowing the young girl to walk straight into her arms, allowing Elena a few minutes to observe the two vampires.
Stefan was the easiest for her to read, his eyes landed on Renesmee immediately hearing her voice causing his grip on Elena to loosen. His eyes widened, mouth slightly open as he starred at Renesmee as if he had seen a ghost.
Carefully she turned her attention toward Damon, whose face was void of any emotion. It was as if there was not a soul living in his body. He just stood there his eyes stuck on Renesmee with a pained look in his eyes as the only sign of Damon still having his emotions.
“Auntie?” Renesmee asked again.
“Yes, Baby?”
“Mama said to go find you. Auntie Caroline was hungry but Mama’s trying to get her away from a student. Auntie Caroline was crying, why was she crying Auntie? She can be a vegan.”
Elena looked down at her, smiling gently at the young girl. “Where are they Ren? Your Mama and I will answer later okay? Auntie needs to go to Auntie Caroline right now.”
**XXXX**
**Mystic Falls, 1850** | 2b16ff1792604a1da25c412be67e1462 | ['c13156fb39f740c18041710a640a52aa'] | The rest of the year went by as much as the first half which visits from the District 4 Victors when permitted. The morning of the reaping started like any other day except the atmosphere was filled with the silent fear of parents and children alike. In the Victor’s Village, the light had barely begun to shine. The room was quiet as the run rose through the window hitting the bed inside. Laying under the covers was a peacefully sleeping Katniss Everdeen.
As the sun hit her face her internal clock shook her from her slumber as she stretched. Sitting up on the edge of the bed she gently fingered the ring that was delicately hanging from the silver thread around her neck. It was a silver ring with a stone set in the shape of a shell, a beautiful sea-green. The fact that Finnick gave her anything was a shock then her eyes lowered to the slim silver bracelet on her wrist. Haymitch had seemed it appropriate that she have something to remember her history by.
The bracelet had several charms swirling around her wrist. The first was an hourglass for obvious reasons, a Primrose for her family, a seashell for Finnick and Annie, an arrow to remind her of home and of Gale and a Mockingjay as a reminder of why she was there. A dandelion was next a reminder of Peeta then finally a Jaybird for Rue. He left a few spaces open for her to fill. She smiled at the blush that crept up on his face as he told her of the charms. As hard as he is around the edges, she would not pick anyone else she would rather take his place in her heart.
Her soft smile soon disappeared it was reaping day.
Looking at the time on the clock on the wall Katniss sighed. Soon in every district reaping would be taking place deciding the fate of 24 children. Finnick, Annie and Mags had left to go back to their district a week ago, Finnick however still called her every night effectively keeping her nightmares at bay. She slowly got dressed in the new dress from Cinna. It was truly a masterpiece with short sleeves, the length of the dress just going past her knees slightly. She put her hair into her usual single braid as she avoided the knowledge that she would be sending two kids to their certain death. Her expression turned grim as she thought of their predetermined fate.
After all it was Johanna's year…
A soft knock interrupted her dreaded thoughts. She turned around to find her nine-year-old sister lean into the door frame.
"Yes Prim?" She asked softly pulling her into a hug.
"Are you going to be okay?" Prim asked.
Katniss smiled softly as she murmured that she'll be fine and that she would be back before she knew it. As Prim left Katniss looked over at the small suitcase Effie had arranged for Katniss to take. She had packed up all of the approved clothing from Cinna and a few of her own as her mind traveled back to the last few months.
XXXXXXX
The month of May hit the 12th District of Panem much sooner than Katniss realized. Katniss was laying down in bed slowly coming to when her door banged open revealing a grinning Finnick with a large tray in his hands.
"Wake up Birthday Girl!"
Katniss groaned softly, "I don't remember telling you that."
"No but Prim cornered Haymitch and I a few weeks ago, Haymitch of course never thought about when your birthday was so when she cornered us well we agreed you had to have a birthday."
The dark-haired victor signed as she sat up in bed.
"I believe Haymitch did not know me until last year of course he didn't know."
"Well now we do and it will forever more be one of my favorite days."
"Oh, why is that?"
"It's a day I can celebrate you and you cannot argue."
XXXXXXX
The train stood still waiting for its two occupants to step onto it, shimmering in the last few rays of sunshine. Katniss stood with her sister as the two District 4 victors double checked their own luggage.
Finnick was done first and pulled Prim and Katniss into a tight hug, earning a soft giggle from the younger sister. Katniss rolled her eyes at his wide grin while she could hear Annie giggle pulling Prim into another hug.
“You better take care of her,” Katniss whispered into Finnick’s ear as she finally pulled away.
“You better take care of yourself. I got Annie, you need to focus on you,” Finnick chuckled patting her head only making the height difference at their current ages even more apparent.
“I have Haymitch to look after,” She countered pulling away from his hand.
“Then you better take care of yourself. The old man can be a handful” The golden boy of Panem grinned at her as he gently pulled Annie away, carefully helping her onto the train as Annie gave Katniss a quick hug.
XXXXXXX
Katniss rolled her eyes at the memory. Finnick seems to have taken on the role of get Girl on Fire to accept help from others and show her feelings. Katniss apparently needed to learn to trust or as Finnick would put it.
"You need to let your wall down. I'm determined to not let you lock yourself away."
From her own prior knowledge, Katniss knew Finnick could be stubborn, she just did not think he would use it for anything to do with her. The clock struck one and Katniss slipped on her shoes subconsciously making sure her bracelet and necklace was in place. She nodded her head in greeting as she went to go wake up Haymitch, who would surely still be asleep. |
2d1e32a540f54e5fab9160e2c89c418d | ['c160cfded4204eb2af73148f3175cea6'] | Ten years. It took you 10 years to prove me right. I always told you that you weren't strong enough to resist the demon inside you. Here's the thing I didn't say: I didn't mean it. I was harder on you, because I believed you were stronger than that. But you weren't. You let Justice take over. And now? Where does that leave us? I had hoped you would prove that I could trust you. That you weren't like all the mages I've ever known. The ones who have destroyed without a second thought. Which is not the man I thought you to be.
When I first met you, I wanted to hate you. You were a mage. I didn't need to know more. But then we got shoved together, helping Hawke on numerous quests. And your true side came out. Or what I like to believe is your true side. The helper, the generous man, the caring healer. Every quality that endeared you to me. Too often I found myself falling asleep thinking of you. Of how you would casually drop your last copper to the homeless person in Darktown. Of the many refugees you brought into your clinic, and wouldn't charge them for the healing. There was the time I caught you crying because you couldn't save the little boy. All of these instances should have made me nicer to you. At least that is what Hawke always told me. That I needed to cut you some slack. But I couldn't. The nights I'd fall asleep with your name in my thoughts, or after Hawke's 'gentle' reminders, I'd wake up even angrier. I couldn't be falling for a mage. You would just hurt me.
This is what I told myself every day. And yet, I would jump at the chance to join Hawke if you went with. "Headed to Sundermount to talk to Merrill's clan, you coming?" "Need to erase some slavers on the Wounded Coast, you in?" Each time I'd ask who was coming along. I'd grouse, loudly, when the answer was you. But I never said no. If the trip didn't require a healer, well then I wasn't needed either. I've always wondered if Varric knew the truth. The looks he'd give me when I agreed or declined; well you know the dwarf. It's hard to say if he did, he's got a good game face.
Speaking of games. Remember that time we all met at the Hanged Man for a game of Wicked Grace? I grumbled so loudly when I was 'forced' to sit next to you and Isabela. She is too flirty for my taste, but she made a good excuse for why I was practically sitting in your lap. Every time she would scoot closer to me, I'd slide closer to you. Our thighs touching was more comforting to me than I'd like to admit. But the surprising part was how you just sat there. Sure, you glared at me, but you didn't attempt to move away. Not even when our arms rubbed up against each other. You stayed right there. I've always wondered why. Varric was sitting on your other side. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if you moved closer to him to get away from the horrible warrior elf. There's so much I've wanted to say to you since that day. I just couldn't find the words. I'm thankful Hawke was patient enough to teach me my letters, so I could write this to you. But the words in my head, no in my heart, won't transfer to the parchment. I still want to hate you, you know. All of those people. Dead. So you could send your message. Elthina didn't act the way you wanted her to, and you made a sacrifice. You took her life. I know I told Hawke to let you die, but my heart hurt with those words. I didn't want you dead.
Now it is as though you had died. Hawke had spared your life, sent you on your way. Yet you came back, to help us fight with the mages. I was so happy to see you standing there, I nearly rushed to your side and kissed you. I often wonder what you would have done if I had. Would you have kissed me back? Pressed those soft lips to mine and let our mouths say what we couldn't speak? Or would you have pushed me away? Expressed your disgust on that perfect face? I was a chicken and let the moment fade away too quickly. And now you're gone.
No! I refuse to accept accept this! I vow, here and now, that I will find you. I will not stop searching until I do. And I will tell you what I should have said so long ago. I don't care if you push me away and say you never want to see me. That you don't feel the same. I love you, Anders. And I won't give up until I hear those words repeated back to me. | 462af6fba1c94d16be31cff9cdc2c701 | ['c160cfded4204eb2af73148f3175cea6'] | My darling Jim,
I had a dream last night that left me feeling a peace I haven't felt in a long time. I go to sleep at night and I'm plagued with nightmares, or rather A nightmare. It's always the same one, always on repeat. We had just said our vows, leaving our loved ones with tears in their eyes. And then the fucking Venatori attack and my beloved falls. And no matter how many times I try to do something different, I can never save you. Every night I watch you die, and every morning I wake up feeling my heart shattering all over again.
But last night was different. Last night I dreamt of you, but not of your death. It was a dream of the two of us back at our spot. You know where we had our first real date, where we first made love. I've gone back there once, but it didn't feel the same. It just felt...dull and lifeless. Not the beautiful spot I remembered it to be.
I digress, my love, so back to my dream. I was back on our picnic blanket, and you were there. We talked and laughed, and made love. It was beautiful, and special, and not even a little bit sad. It was as though you hadn't left me, as though we were still together. The dream doesn't end there. Time fast forwarded to another wedding. Our sweet baby girl had chosen a groom, and had asked her fathers to walk her down the aisle. His face I couldn't see, he was just a blur. No doubt the day she finally does wed, he will be a blur that day as well. My attention was solely on Fayette, dressed in a gorgeous white dress trimmed in shades of blue. Her hair was piled high on her head, pinned up by her aunt Lyn. But it was the dress that drew all of the attention. Why? Because you had made it, my darling Jim. It had taken you over a year to make it perfect, a task you had started the minute Faye announced her engagement. No matter how many times she told you it was fine, you would argue that 'fine' wasn't good enough for your little girl. It made me smile in the dream, as it makes me smile now.
Unlike the dark day of our wedding, Fayette and her groom were united together without a hitch. What was like our wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the crowd. I couldn't tell you what vows were said, but no doubt our daughter took a page out of your book and wrote them the same day she met the man of her dreams. I sometimes wonder how you just happened to have vows ready to say that day. The wedding was a surprise, yet I think you were more prepared than I was. I had agonized over how to express to you everything that I was feeling. Except every draft felt...inadequate. Like I was letting you down. I've never been good with expressing myself, always feeling as though *I* wasn't good enough. When the Chief made me a part of the Chargers, for the first time I felt like I finally belonged. And then I met you. You turned my world upside down and I tried to resist you. Maker did I try. But He wouldn't let me, YOU wouldn't let me.
So, I dreamed of what our life could have been, what it should have been. When I opened my eyes this morning, for the first time I wasn't sad. I probably should have been, waking from something that could never be. But I think it finally gave me the closure I had been seeking. I'm still going to miss you, I know that. But maybe I won't have as many nightmares anymore. Maybe my dreams will be plagued with memories instead. I know there was nothing I could do to save you that day, so now it's time for me to move past and carry on for our daughter. No one will ever replace you in my heart or hers, that I can guarantee. Every day for the past year I've told her stories; stories about you, about me, about us. The ones that involve you are her favorite. I'll tell you a secret my love, they're my favorite too. I'm going to end this now, because I fear if I don't I might never.
Love always,
Krem
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for taking the time to read my first posted fan fic. Leave me kudos and comments please. |
f160953846b445f3a7cde2f85c4de785 | ['c16b6bc847464253897b8309e41a4cad'] | Iris stops rearranging the contents of his allotted, numbered box for a fraction of a second. “Deadlines tend to make me anxious,” he replies colourlessly, standing up with his food.
Mercifully, Lillium doesn’t remark on his tacitness. He merely nods in sympathy, or maybe empathy. “You got this,” he reassures him, “even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
Somehow it sounds different, genuine, coming from him. Perhaps because of how certain he sounds, totally unwavering in his faith in Iris.
“Do you?” Iris says on an impulse, staring at the fridge to avoid meeting his gaze. Already he can feel his initial gall dissipating. “You’ve, uh. Basically disappeared for… a while. Stuck in the library?”
Lillium cocks his head at him, Iris can feel it even without looking. “Or I decided to pull an Indiana Jones and go off after treasure.”
“How does he keep tenure when he’s away from his job so much, anyway?” Iris tsks, going for levity and falling short of it.
“Yeah, I know, right.”
No explanation is forthcoming, so Iris shrugs and starts walking off.
“Take care,” Lillium tags on, abortively shifting as though to follow him.
“Yeah, you too.” And he means it. He tries to convey as much just by looking at Lillium a moment too long. Lillium has dark shadows under his eyes now, the colour of a bruise.
_Where’ve you been? What’s happened that you couldn’t — can’t tell me?_
There’s a post-it note on his container of hummus when he next reaches for it.
When Iris sees it, his first instinct is dread, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’s had a clean bill up to now in college as far as bullying is concerned, but if those days aren’t behind him after all…
Then he reads what the note says, and smiles instead. Very slightly, but still. He smiles.
_Dork, you opened this on Tuesday and it says to consume within 3 days. Sniff-test it. Don’t give yourself food poisoning because you were too out of it to notice._
Iris does as the note says and, yeah alright, it does seem slightly off, in a way he might not have noticed in his sleep-deprived, preoccupied state. Not too off, though, so Iris is about to risk it when he glances down and sees a plastic container below where the hummus was. It too has a post-it note on it, in the same spidery, slanting handwriting. Lillium’s handwriting, the same as on his apron.
_Just kidding, I sniff-tested it for you. Still safe but you deserve better than “this will do”. Hope you like spicy food._
It’s pad thai, sweet and spicy and sour. Iris basically melts when he takes his first bite of it. It might be the first meal he’s actually enjoyed, in what feels like ages.
On two other occasions leading up to his deadline, he finds meals ready and waiting for him in the fridge. They tide him over and probably go a long way to preventing actual malnutrition. One is baked potato patties with a sauce of carrots, beans, and tomatoes. The accompanying post-it note has, ridiculously, what looks like a carrot with Iris’s hairdo on it, and a potato with a six-pack who must represent Lillium.
The other is a Caesar salad that is surprisingly filling, with a note that says _It’s dangerous to go alone! Take these leaves with you._
If this is Lillium’s way of making up for three weeks of radio silence, he’s sure taking the apology seriously.
But they haven’t resumed cooking together. Iris sees him once in the kitchen and _knows_ , just _knows_ , that Lillium’s pretending not to notice him. So Lillium doesn’t beckon him over, and Iris doesn’t volunteer his presence.
For some reason, Lillium’s withdrawn from him.
Iris keeps Lillium’s post-it notes in pride of place, on a shelf in the corner near his art supplies. He has a habit, whenever he returns to his room after a class, of going to stand in front of his work in progress, mulling over what to do next, and before turning away from the canvas to set down his bag, now he glances at the post-it notes and smiles. It’s a bittersweet smile.
The canvas in his room is a half-finished painting of someone, a girl, standing at the stove in a white dress, her back turned to him. It isn’t one of his studio pieces; he’s just been working on it on and off, unable to get the image out of his mind.
At least two of the pieces in his installation this semester are obliquely about Lillium. Iris wonders if Lillium still goes to the school gallery. If he’ll see them.
Iris spends almost two weeks in this state, and finds himself one Thursday doodling, ridiculously, a chibi version of just his head with a leaf on it. He pauses, goes to his wardrobe, and wraps Lillium’s jacket around himself even though he’s indoors.
He thinks of Lillium’s last note to him for the billionth time. Then, with almost a growl of frustration, he goes downstairs, drawing in hand, to start peering at the contents of a bunch of fridges.
He doesn’t even need to take his earbuds with him anymore. Huh. When did that happen?
Friday finds Iris ploughing through an article written in what could charitably be described as borderline comprehensible English, when his phone rings.
Not his cellphone, mind. The landline in his room.
It hasn’t rung all semester because a) who calls anymore, and b) even though his dorm provides free internal calls, people just knocked on their friends’ doors instead usually, and c) Iris doesn’t exactly have many friends.
His heart skips a beat. Iris picks up. | e9a19585a8234d86af5b5c788b6b12c8 | ['c16b6bc847464253897b8309e41a4cad'] | “…I am seeing a whole new side to you.” He shakes his head and makes teasing little _tsk tsk_ sounds at her until she gives him a playful nudge; thereafter, without consciously agreeing to, they both lapse into a reflective sort of silence.
Without the twin distractions of kwamis and puns, they revert back to a shared awareness of their own vulnerability in this situation, only the ice is broken now. Nothing has changed, they’re still the same two people who have been a team for so long, but now she’s rapidly building a rapport with him outside of costume, and isn’t it strange how for a minute there she didn’t even need to think about whether she was behaving like Marinette or Ladybug? How all that careful demarcation of her civilian life from her superheroic one just fell away, redundant and overcautious?
Maybe they can know each other, and be friends, outside of costume after all. Maybe he’s the only person in the world she doesn’t need to hide any part of herself from — and vice versa.
“I guess you must be wondering why I brought you here.”
In a marked change from before, his voice is almost dull, resigned and sad. It’s true, she did wonder at first, but the view and the ambience just swept away her impatience. So instead of answering immediately, she counters, “I guess you must be wondering why I made you stay.”
“And I guess you could just tell me. But that’s not how it works with us, is it?” The sudden brittleness of his voice shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. He must sense its effect on her too, because she can hear him shifting uncomfortably, his sneaker scuffing against the ground as he bends his leg in closer to himself, and he tones it down to just plain sombre as he continues, “I think we both know there are things we do and say and— and _feel_ , that we just don’t talk about.”
Which is ironic, because she was just thinking the same thing earlier. They separately and independently have come to the same conclusion, and in so doing have only proved further to themselves how in sync they are, how attuned.
She knows how he feels about her, or at least she thinks she does. It’s easy most of the time to brush off his corny lines and pretend he doesn’t mean them, but now that he’s called her out implicitly on how she reciprocates some of those same feelings... Tomorrow, or the day or week after when an akumatised villain strikes again, can she really go on pretending not to notice the frisson as he meets her gaze and nods, understanding perfectly the plan in her mind without her needing to say a word? They might continue to act as professional as though they were just teammates, but something has changed tonight. Because both of them have contrived to still be here, now; purportedly still _just talk_ ing, but more critically _connecting._
It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying.
It’s electrifying and she should turn back but instead she pushes forward, against the invisible boundaries that have locked them in place so long. “Maybe that’s how it is with Ladybug and Chat Noir,” she admits, “but we’re not them right now. I— I don’t even know your name. We could be strangers, never expecting to meet again. Saying anything. No strings attached.”
For a long moment she’s afraid that she’s really pushed him too far, and he’s about to stand up and simply walk away, right out of this space they’ve carved out for themselves to be free to just talk. She wouldn’t even be able to turn around and stop him, not unless they both put their masks back on, and got their walls back up in place.
Then he says, with the barest hint of a smile in his voice, “When I was little I wanted to be a _superhero_.”
“You’re kidding.”
He sounds almost sheepish. “I’m really not. This— this life is a dream come true. In more ways than one.” His voice trails off towards the end.
With a light nudge, though, he revives the levity they’re rapidly losing. “You’re supposed to tell me something about yourself now,” he reminds her, “Nothing incriminating identity-wise, naturally.”
“Right, um,” she stammers. Funny how difficult it is to come up with something _significant_ to say about yourself that doesn’t say anything _substantial_ about yourself. “Well. I like... peaches? Fuzzy, sweet peaches.”
She has to stop herself from discussing the relative merits of fresh and preserved fruit for the different kinds of danish her parents have on menu at the confectionary. That’s probably a pretty big hint that she’s a baker’s daughter. Or, misleadingly, that she’s _really_ into baking.
“Oh, yeah they’re the best! Okay, uh, my favourite colour is blue.” (“Blue like your eyes,” Chat Noir would have said, while waggling his eyebrows at her.)
“I made a blue scarf for someone once,” she replies easily, feeling proud of herself for not stumbling over the ‘someone’.
He gives a little bemused huff at that, like he doesn’t know quite what to do about her. “So you make stuff, I break stuff. You sound nice, in your other life. Me? Part of the reason I wouldn’t turn around is I’m not sure you’d like the real me.”
That stuns her a moment. So there’s probably a bit too much sympathy in her voice as she starts saying, “Chat—”
“—your turn,” he cuts her off, firm and clipped. “Don’t...” he starts saying, but seems to lose steam. Against her cheek, the feathery locks of his hair shift as he ducks his head.
He won’t let her pursue what he said, so “My best friend doesn’t know who I am,” she whispers on a whim, thinking of Alya as she starts saying the words, but ending with Chat Noir’s face in mind. |
f3707b88eaf74fb693c02e7ca52e10b8 | ['c1774889fd6842c4b6b2efc44739ba68'] | But this time the black was less dense. It was as though it was releasing her, instead of trying to will her away. The black was separating from her skin, slipping away. She was swimming with the tide now.
The mark on her hand flared to life, she could see the green light pulling her. She couldn’t tell which direction it was taking her, but the black was still sloughing off her, and that had to be right. There were voices somewhere. She could hear confused shouting.
Abruptly, light crashed into her world and her fist closed.
Dorian’s rift was gone. That world was gone. They were back in the throne room, like they had never left.
“No,” breathed Alexius.
Anne’s hand went to her baselard. It was drawn and pointed at his throat before he could say another word. It wasn’t professional, it wasn’t even skillful. Bull had taught her never to go for the throat when face-to-face. But Anne was beyond that. There was nothing but righteous rage pounding through her.
“Surrender now,” Dorian commanded before anyone else could move. Anne caught a tinge of fear in his voice. It was the most naked emotion she had seen him display. _He doesn’t want Alexius to die again_ , she realized.
Alexius looked to his son, tears in his eyes. “You’ll die,” he whispered.
“Everyone has to die, father,” he said softly. “Let us die with honor.”
Alexius’s face crumbled, and he reached for his son. Anne felt the knife follow him, pushing the edge just deep enough for blood. The Magister’s look changed to injured pride. “I surrender,” he growled at her. “I surrender.”
Everyone’s eyes were on her and her baselard, but Anne couldn’t put it down. He had as good as killed everyone in that throne room, as good as killed the world. He had sold them all out for his child.
“You couldn’t save him,” she snarled. _Bull’s shorn horns._ “He was almost dead in your future.” _Blackwall’s jupon._ “Corypheus couldn’t save him.” _Rutherford’s body separating from his head_. “And you can’t either.”
Her baselard went a hair deeper, and Dorian’s arm was now on hers. “Anne,” he pleaded. His dark eyes were begging.
Her jaw tightened. Alexius didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t.
“Not like this,” said a quiet voice. Rutherford was next to her. “Not here.”
Anne looked into his face - his eyes full of the life that had been snuffed out. “For what he did…”
“I know,” he agreed, as if he understood. His hand wrapped around hers on the hilt. “I know, but not like this.”
Slowly they brought the knife down. Her grip was tighter than ever, but slowly she was coming back. Coming back to this world. Coming back to this reality.
“Bull, take his amulet,” she ordered unevenly. The Qunari came forward and snatched it from Alexius.
“You’re not worth it,” she whispered. And then she did something she hadn’t done since she was ten and playing with the villein boys. She spat on the Magister.
“We’re leaving,” she announced.
“Wait!” Fiona emerged from behind a pillar. “What about my people?”
_Fool woman._ Anne could still see her body hunched over the red lyrium, and it still didn’t feel like enough. A dark look passed over her face. Anne wanted to punish her, to punish them all.
“Fiona, you and your Magister must surrender to the Inquisition,” she heard her voice saying. “You will be judged and made to pay for your crimes.”
Fiona’s face fell, but she nodded resolutely. “And my mages?”
“They will close the Breach for us,” Rutherford said curtly.
It was more than she deserved. It was more than any of them deserved. “They are now indentured to the Inquisition,” she stated.
If they wanted anything else from her, it would have to wait. Anne was done.
No one said a word as they made their way out of Redcliffe and up to the Chargers’ camp. Josephine and Leliana sat waiting for them at the fire. Anne couldn’t bear to look at them though. Who knew how they had suffered in the other timeline?
There was a rumble of thunder above and Anne cowered. It was too similar to the sound of the demons arriving. Her feet carried her quickly into the campaign tent, and she sat heavily in a chair, her head in her hands. All she could see when she shut her eyes were bodies and demons and red everywhere. As a sob escaped her, a hand appeared next to her head. She looked up and Dorian was offering his handkerchief. Anne couldn’t help but notice it was already wet.
The small kindness felt like too much, and she started truly crying. She couldn’t think. She had been hollowed out, and now only memories remained.
Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that the tent was filling up with the Inquisition. Everyone who had been in the hall, as well as Josephine and Leliana, was hovering.
Something like shame was coming over her. She knew she shouldn’t be seen like this. Bull came over and rested a hand on her shoulder. Touch was steadying. Anne looked up at him and felt her breath catch.
“Breathe,” Bull said quietly. “Only when you’re ready.”
Anne nodded, her hand reaching up to hold his. _Breathe, breathe, breathe_ , she told herself. It was the easiest way to keep herself going. Slowly her breath came back under control. After a long minute her tears stopped and she let go of Bull’s hand.
With a last squeeze, he looked from her to Dorian. “So what the fuck just happened?”
* * *
After they had finished answering questions, and Anne had repeated Rutherford’s warning, the tent slowly cleared out. | 93729f100809408d8e11c67733214b04 | ['c1774889fd6842c4b6b2efc44739ba68'] | Except, of course, for Madame de Fer. At least her conversation was every inch as perfunctory as Anne’s. She had chosen the day after the outburst to congratulate Anne on her excellent choice to conscript the mages. Anne appreciated the praise, though not necessarily the condescending tone it was delivered in.
It was a month and a day after the events of Redcliffe Castle when the mages marched into Haven, flanked by their Inquisition escort. Anne watched them filing in from the Chantry steps, a swell of pride sweeping her away.
Leaning over to Josephine, she whispered, “We have done something good.”
Josephine smiled back, completely in her element as she took over the directing of the mages. The King of Ferelden had sent them a tremendous gift of tents and resources for the boon of taking the mages off of his kingdom’s hands. Anne had wanted to create a separate space for them, walled in so that none could escape, but for the time that had to be scrapped. There simply wasn’t time for it, and Haven was not large enough to support a separate cantonment.
As the Commander had predicted, the addition of the mages was swamping Haven. They would either need to find a new base of operations or find another place to house the mages. He, Cassandra, and Leliana had been poring over the reports recently, looking for any sign of the Templars. There had been no word in the past few weeks, only that Therinfall Redoubt was shut and no one was going in or out. Anne told them to continue sending ravens, figuring the Templars would have to give in and help them with the mages eventually.
That night, Anne conferenced with Maude, Tess, and the Chargers. If the Iron Bull was concerned about her behavior and attitude toward him, he wisely said nothing. They now had a departure date: the day after tomorrow. In the morning, Anne, the army, and the mages would assault the Breach, and then the following morning they would leave for Ostwick. Maude voiced her concerns about Anne travelling this close to delivering, but Anne would hear none of it. Yes, she had had more twinges of labor pains since that night, but the Maker held her in the palm of His hand. He would protect her on the road and in childbirth.
After a final Council meeting with Solas and Rutherford to review their instructions for assaulting the Breach, Anne went to say her prayers and then to bed. The Chantry was very still, even quieter than usual. It was as though even the little dormice knew the importance of the next day. Laying on her side, Anne softly sang her lullaby to Julienne, but her daughter was having none of it. She was kicking and moving around, though how she found any room, Anne had no idea.
The lullaby was rarely any help these days. Nights were easily the hardest time for them, since Julie apparently didn’t like it when Anne kept still. Perhaps it was the cold of the room that bothered her, now that autumn was upon them. The soldiers had started dressing their kills during the summer, and the tanner had turned several of the pelts into a blanket for Anne. She snuggled deeper into the furs, trying to find some comfortable position for both of them, but nothing was working.
Bringing her marked hand out from under the cover, she held it in front of her face, her other hand tracing the crack of light. It brought the room to light, illuminating them in its ghastly green. What would it be like to return to the Temple tomorrow? Try as she might, she still couldn’t remember the day Max died. Some part of her wanted to return, in hopes it would remind her of _something_ from that day. But most of her was scared. Solas had explained his best plan for assaulting the Breach, and frankly, she wasn’t sure she believed in it. After all, she was no mage. How could she possibly channel and direct their magic? What would it even feel like to have all that magic ramming through her? Solas assured her it would be safe for both her and Julienne, but what if something went wrong?
Anne felt as though her mind was racing in every direction and going nowhere. Clutching her good hand to her forehead she lay back and tried to focus on something else - anything else. It was fruitless. All paths led back to the Temple tomorrow.
Faintly she could hear Tess in the other bed, breathing softly. If Anne listened carefully, she could set her rhythm to follow her servant’s. _Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe…._
Anne awoke with a start as her door creaked opened. She couldn’t remember falling asleep. As silent as the Chantry had been the night before, now it buzzed with activity. Tess and Josephine entered the room, smiles lighting their faces.
“My Lady Anne,” Josephine said, stepping forward to help her out of bed. “The Inquisition has a present for you.”
Tess stepped forward, a beautiful white fur cloak over her arms. Anne’s jaw dropped, she had never seen anything so fine. The shoulders were draped with a broad white fur, while a heavy white wool fell beneath to the floor.
“How did - ?” she asked, her voice soft.
“The soldiers killed a white wolf a month ago, my Lady,” Josephine replied, as Tess placed it over Anne’s shoulders. “We didn’t want to say anything, in case it wasn’t ready in time, but Tess has worked tirelessly to stitch it for you.”
Anne looked up at the women, tears in her eyes.
“Look, milady,” Tess said, tugging at the sides of the cloak. “Horses for Trevelyan, blossoms for Trave.” Along the seams, in tight, fine stitches, was a beautiful design of her two houses.
“Is this - ” |
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