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aa4acecaa2954e95bccfec1a8dbb9b7e | ['c9fcb2c6cc2d40048ed08773ecc78969'] | Lunch rolled around, and Pete dragged Josh to the schoolyard, Frank, Gerard, and Tyler in suit. They stopped at an area covered in benches, tree stumps, and what looked vaguely like tombstones that were all in close proximity underneath the branches of a few big trees. Josh would describe this as beautiful if he didn't get such a murder-y vibe from the place. Still, he sat where Pete placed him, and tried his best to remember the many people whom he was introduced to.
There was Ray, who had extremely curly hair and looked really annoyed with Gerard. Then he met Joe, who had slightly less curly hair, and was probably high. Then he met Ryan and Brendon, who were soulmates, and apparently attached at much more than the hip. According to Brendon, the collectively went by Ryden, but Josh was unsure of this, considering Ryan had been shaking his head furiously as Brendon explained this. Then there was Mikey, who was Gerard's brother, and Pete's soulmate, which seemed to be quite disappointing to Gerard, as he hoped for... better things for his little brother. Mikey ignored this however, as Gerard's soulmate was "a fucking midget punk kid who has too many illegal tattoos and can fuck off" (in Mikey's very own incredibly intelligent words to describe the one and only Frank Iero). There was also Patrick, who was a pretty small guy with a smile that made Josh want to hug him repeatedly, and Josh was not a hugger.
So, Josh sat with the massive group whom he had befriended within few hours. There was a lot he had to worry about starting at this new school, yet he mainly focussed on how he would manage to remember everyone's names.
2. you don't know my brain
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey folks !!
>
> I'm completely overwhelmed with by the fact that people liked this so a huge thank you to everyone who read the first chapter !!
>
> This one is earlier than I planned but I got really excited
The thing was, Josh couldn't get Tyler out of his mind. He probably wasn't the most interesting character he had met, yet he seemed to emerge as the most important. Tyler had something about him. Something amazing.
Josh had no clue Tyler felt the same way. He wanted to know everything about Josh. But he also wanted more than that. He couldn't understand.
\--
The next day, Tyler and Josh once again seemed to dress identically. This seemed impressive, unless you considered the fact that they were once again both wearing black hoodies and black jeans. (Different ones, they might not be particularly interesting dressers but they still respected their personal hygiene and the sanctity of other people's noses). It also was unsurprising considering if you added both of their wardrobes together, you'd never know it came from two people, rather than one extremely boring dresser.
They sat down in math, this time next to each other rather than one behind the other as it had been yesterday. The two hadn't ever talked by now, other than in large conversations with the "squad" that neither avidly participated in, with it being Josh's second day and Tyler being somewhere between shy and just generally disinterested. They had some sort of magnetic chemistry that they could only feel. It wasn't spoken, but they knew the other felt the same.
\--
Lunch today was less introductions, more arguments. Josh wasn't the one arguing, but he was eager to watch the drama unfold. Pete was mad at Patrick for calling him a short emo (which made no sense anyways with Patrick being of of the shortest of the group). It wasn't a very interesting discussion, honestly, as neither party had much to argue on. The topic of conversation shifted quickly, and before Josh could think of a decent excuse, he had been forced/convinced to go to a party at Pete's house on Friday night, as a 'Welcome to Hell' bash type of thing. It would only be the "squad", so Josh supposed it couldn't be the worst thing to ever happen.
\--
Several things happened between that day and Friday. Namely, Josh had gotten Tyler's phone number, and the two would stay up to ungodly hours of the night talking. Unbeknownst to the other, both sat with smiles plastered to their dimly lit faces.
The other thing that happened was that Frank got another tattoo of a dog rather than of Gerard's name as he had promised, which didn't really upset anybody as Gerard didn't want Frank to have to get stuck with needles in his name (literally). Since nobody was mad (other than Frank's mom, who was trying so hard to keep Frank under control and not lose her shit, but could hardly succeed, and consequently payed for this tattoo), it was more a topic that made them all laugh for various reasons, including Frank who rarely washed his look of pure anger and malice off of his face.
\--
All day on Friday, Pete was exceedingly chipper. This was an addition to his usual personality, which could be compared to a 5 year old on a fuckload of drugs, and was a true nightmare. Thankfully, school on Fridays was shortened, and Pete jetted the fuck home and got out of Josh's hair.
Josh retreated to his own home, and put on a slightly nicer hoodie, slightly less rugged jeans, and mildly less ratted vans. He didn't clean up much, but he thought the mild differences made an impact.
He showed up at Pete's house around 6. Mostly everyone had arrived by then, and they cheered as Josh walked in, as Pete wouldn't permit people to eat anything or to start drinking before the guest of honour arrived, which seemed courteous but was honestly mostly just annoying. | 2769d6c876ba492db7f8cb53ab403c25 | ['c9fcb2c6cc2d40048ed08773ecc78969'] | **Notes for the Chapter:**
> so i know that i took a super long break before this chapter but i think i've gotta stop with the constant updates for now. i haven't decided whether i'll do an update every couple of days or just not post for a while, but i promise this fic isn't over, if anyone cares
>
> see you when i see you, lots of love to everyone who has ever read this, it means a lot more to me than you may think
101. Chapter 101
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> back from the dead???? i wish this was for a better reason. the chapter itself is about it, but check the end note please! and while i'm at it thank you so much for all the support, whether you leave comments (my fav), left kudos, or even just have clicked on this. it means a lot.
daddy dun: how do you get someone deleted off of wattpad
josh’s slut: what
frnk: what ? since when were you writing shit on wattpad
daddy dun: since, like, ever dude
gerald: ah wattpad,,, classic
gerald: why do you need someone deleted?
daddy dun: bc they reposted my shit
gerald: what’s the username?
daddy dun: zoeeblurryface, whatever that’s supposed to mean. why?
gerald: you’ll see in a sec
_gerald has added zoeeblurryface to the chat_
gerald: what’s up biTCH
zoeeblurryface: what? who are y’all?
gerald: your worst nightmare
gerald: by the time you know who we are, it’ll be burned into your memory and you’ll see us when you close your eyes
frnk: time to chill gee
gerald: i think the fuck not frankie
daddy dun: what we’re trying to say is you reposted my stuff on your wattpad
daddy dun: and we’re gonna need you to take it down
zoeeblurryface: you can’t prove that
daddy dun: bitch? do you know who the fuck i am
daddy dun: even if i couldn’t prove it (which I can easily, ya dumb cunt) it wouldn't matter
daddy dun: because we’re still gonna fucking box
zoeeblurryface: box?
frnk: box?
daddy dun: yeah you heard me
daddy dun: meet me in the ring
daddy dun: we’re gonna box
zoeeblurryface: what the hell
gerald: you messed with the wrong damn group chat
gerald: see you in hell
_gerald has removed zoeeblurryface from the group_
daddy dun: ok now seriously how do i get her deleted
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ok y'all heres the Juice
> SpookyFaces (i hope that makes a link to their ao3 but if not sorry i don't know how to do that) let me know that someone... (obviously zoeeblurryface i've already used their name i don't need to pretend like i give a damn about whether or not i'm saying their name) has reposted this fic on wattpad COMPLETELY without my consent or credit to me. i dont know how big of a deal this is to some of you, but it's a big deal to me. this is plagarism, and isn't technically illegal because i don't have copyright on it, but you probably get the idea. anyways, i'm genuinely wondering if it's possible to get this person deleted. it really bothers me that this has happened, and i don't really want to just get over it. this person has other posts, one of which i recognize (500 Baskets by emeraldcitydowntowngirl (which is one of the most popular fics on ao3, don't know why you thought you could get away with that)) and others that i don't recognize (i think SpookyFaces said one of theirs was stolen too) but i'm sure that if i were to look them up i would find them under different authors posted long before zoeeblurryface got her grubby hands on them.
>
> i would like to clarify, although it's probably super obvious, none of my work has been posted to any other website by me. i have a wattpad account under the same name as this one, and it does not have anything posted to it.
>
> if you are zoeeblurryface (what's up bitch) and you are reading this about to copy and paste to your wattpad , you can catch me in the fucking ring. i almost fucking hope you repost this, shout yourself out for being so stupid you can't even write your own fics !
102. Chapter 102
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hello!!!!!! i wrote sum of this so here it is lol
>
> i actually think this chapter is good so u better like it or i'll be grumpo
daddy dun: how hot does human flesh burn?
frnk: the same temperature as a psych ward
daddy dun: really? wouldn’t it matter the exact materials the building was made out of?
daddy dun: cite ur sources please
frnk: i dunno, maybe go check one out
gerald: i’d say that was smooth
gerald: but smooth is flirty and that’s illegal
josh’s slut: flirty is illegal??
gerald: yes
gerald: what i’m trying to say though is that it was like a smooth pick up line, except instead of a pickup line it was a go-check-yourself-into-a-mental-hospital line
josh’s slut: sounds pretty flirty to me
gay elmo: check yourself into a mental hospital lines are how we real emos do it
memefucker69: damn straight
daddy dun: ok like i get that we've just revolutionized romance
daddy dun: but how hot does human flesh burn?
memefucker69: why do you want to know?
daddy dun: because my arm hairs are on fire and i don't want the rest of my arm to light up
josh’s slut: what the FUCK
josh's slut: you didn’t think to fucking mention that?
daddy dun: no not really
gerald: what the actual fuck josh
daddy dun: i was curious
frnk: and on fucking FIRE
daddy dun: calm down
josh’s slut: calm down? you. are. on. fire.. put. it. out.
daddy dun: how do you put out fires again?
gay elmo: ok wait josh, you were feeling curious enough to ask us questions,,, but none of them included putting the fucking fire out?
daddy dun: nah not really
daddy dun: just didn’t cross my mind
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> how often should i aim to post? i can't go back to daily but i think i need something to aim for. i've got other stuff that i've been writing ( ;) ) and i've got a lot on my plate at school at the moment, but i wanna try!!! i can promise nothing but that the chapters are (based off the ones i have written) even more nonsensical than usual
**Author's Note:**
> hey, thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it!! please comment below if you have any input whatsoever!
>
> lots of love |
0c8fad2cb5b34c41b3ab5c7958122662 | ['ca1709b191734c91b6b608924e78e8c2'] |
Shifting Bodies, Shifting Souls
June 15, 1979
Stanley Pines took another sip of beer, feeling the alcohol course through his veins as he looks up at the stars. He only had one can-he didn’t feel like robbing the nearest convenience store of all their alcohol; though now he could tell that was a mistake. He always needed to be drunk or high on June 15th. Otherwise, his mind would be stuck in an unending loop of all his memories of this day. His birthday.
“Officially twenty-five,” he said, then laughed uncontrollably. Maybe he’d still be able to get drunk after all. “Would ya look at that.” He was alone, on an old, decaying highway somewhere in Texas. Stan knew he should keep moving; Rico’s goons are probably speeding through Mexico to find him. But he couldn’t drive. Not today. Not now.
He leaned back against the car. No one was around, if you didn’t count the quiet chirpings of countless insects. For a moment, he relaxed, hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a photo.
It’s him and Ford, boxing gear on, laughing and smiling, oblivious to the fact that their relationship would be ruined in a few short months. Seventeen years of living together, supporting each other, being brothers-and all it took was one fist slamming on a table to ruin it all.
Only seven years since he’d been kicked out, left alone and abandoned to die on the streets. It was supposed to be Stan and Ford against the world. Instead, it was only Stan, living out of his car, while Ford was probably off being successful. His brother was a genius. He could probably build anything, or discover everything. Ford had so much potential. But Stanley just had to ruin it, ruin everything. Ruin himself.
He wanted to be angry at Ford. He wanted to yell at him, ask him why he ignored Stan while he cried out for help. But Stanley Pines was nothing but a liar. He didn’t hate Ford-and after a long night of getting drunk on a decayed highway, he realized the person he really hated was himself. That revelation almost caused him to just jump off a cliff and give the world a break. But he didn’t do it. He spent an entire night, leaning forward, never brave enough to take the final step.
“Wonder what would’ve happened if I did,” he said, “Ford would be happy. Hell, he might just throw-” he coughed, “a whole party.” He laughs. Ford had never been the party type. Maybe that had changed since Stan was thrown out. Maybe-
“Hello?” an old voice croaked. “Dearie, can you help me?”
Stan jumps in surprise. He may have had experience with some of the most dangerous criminals in half the continent, but of course he was freaked out by an old person’s voice. “Shit! I mean-what do you need?” It was an old woman with a cane, smiling, even though half her teeth were missing. He tried to remember if he heard footsteps or the sound of another car, but nothing came to mind. He might’ve been drunk after all.
“Dearie,” the lady said again. “I am so sorry to interrupt you, but I need help. I have no money to buy food, but I haven’t eaten in days.”
Stan winced. Sure, he’d gone a few days without eating, but he was young-definitely younger than this woman. He fumbled for his keys, opened his car, and grabbed his wallet. He shoved a few bills in the lady’s direction. Twenty bucks wasn’t a lot, but it’d be enough for a quick meal or snack. “Here ya go, ugh, miss.”
The lady gently walked toward him, not even using her cane. Once she got close, Stan realized there was something off about her eyes. They looked silver, almost glowing like the moon. It should’ve seemed ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but feel oddly intimidated.
After taking the money, the lady stared into his eyes. “This is all you have, isn’t it?”
Stan kicked the ground. “Ugh, yeah.” It’d be fine. He had enough gas to make it out of Texas, and he’d just eaten a few hours ago. There’d be enough people to pickpocket once he crossed the state border. “It’s no problem.”
The lady’s eyes seemed sad. “Dearie,” she said, “is it your birthday today?”
“Yes-wait, how did you know?”
Another sad look. “Tell me, Dearie, what do you want for your birthday?”
Stan was a little annoyed at her dodging of the question, but didn’t push it. Something about this woman made him feel calm. “I don’t know, I guess-”
What did he want? To be with Sixer again, to apologize and make up with him. To see him win awards and praise and get all other types of recognition. To have Ford look back at him, and know that his brother loved him.
He shook his head. That was too selfish, even for him. He destroyed Ford’s future-he didn’t deserve his forgiveness, no matter how much he wanted it. Even if his brother forgave him, he’d find a way to mess it up. That’s what Stanley Pines did-destroy everything he touched.
Stan looked at the lady again. “If I could have anything, I wouldn’t want to be Stanley Pines anymore. I’d wanna be someone else.”
The old woman nods. “Of course, Dearie.” She gave him a wink. “Thank you for your gift. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get what you want eventually.”
Stan blinked, and then she was gone.
He didn’t think much of the incident until two months later. Rico had finally caught him, and Stanley was scrambling through the alleyways of Tulsa, Oklahoma. He cursed himself. Going east would’ve been a better idea.
Stan ducked through the alleyway, diving behind a garbage can. Short breaths came out of him, and he groaned. His ankle was definitely injured, though not broken. Thank God for that. | 353dcde4047c43e190120a1308f32946 | ['ca1709b191734c91b6b608924e78e8c2'] |
Two Halves
I love Berk in the winter. Pure snow decorates the rooftops. The sound of cars on the cobbled streets stops, and when I look down from the palace, I can see all the houses glowing with light. But Berk is also up north. We’re a quiet kingdom, and while we may believe in electricity, we don’t believe in electrical heating.
I pull my coat closer. The sky is empty, except for the few stars visible, but I can sense it. It will come tonight.
When I was a boy, I would go by the cliffs and admire the sky for hours. My sketchbook is still littered with everything I drew there: the clouds, fire and lightning, and a dragon. A dragon sleek and black, with grass-green eyes and an intelligent stare. Every night, I dreamt that he would one day come to me, like he was the other half of my soul. One time, I dreamt of riding with him, my fingers tracing the clouds as I looked down at my homeland.
And so I wait for him. Not every night, but every night that I can. I have other things in my life- I’m leaving Berk to go study engineering. Most people in Berk don’t do that. We’re a proud group of people. These snowy mountains are our home.
But when your father is the King, I guess the rules are different. My dad and I have always struggled with our differences. He’s a big, burly man whose every step ripples through the ground. I, on the other hand, am nothing but a twig- twisted pale limbs and a mat of brown hair. My mom, the Queen, isn’t around. They say that one day she went sailing, and she never came back.
The funny thing is, I’ve always wanted to sail.
I sit by the cliffs. I am ready for this. More ready than I have ever been in my life. I know what other people think of me. They think I’m crazy; that I’m a nuisance; that my dad is ashamed of me. But I know the dragon is real, somehow. Even though I’ve never seen it. Even though the dragons disappeared, or were never real in the first place.
The only person who knows about the dragon is my dad. When the dreams first started, they weren’t dreams. They were vicious nightmares of the dragon hissing at me, his mouth alight with purple fire. He would shove me against a jagged rock and roar at me, and then it would be over. I remember laying in my bed, shaking and crying until my father came in. He carried me downstairs until we reached the fireplace.
“Henry, my boy,” he said gruffly. “What’s the matter with you?”
“It-” I swallowed. My father, especially back then, was so large and impressive. I didn’t want him to think I was a coward. “It was a dragon, Daddy. He was trying to kill me.” I buried myself in his beard and cried. “He- he was black, and had these fangs-”
My father stilled. “Henry, did I ever tell you of the Hidden World?”
I removed myself from his beard. “The what? What is that, Daddy?”
“The Hidden World,” he repeated. “Do you know of our family, my boy?” I nodded. Stoick shook his head. “No, you don’t, Henry. There is so much you do not know.”
He took a deep breath. “Our family’s been ruling Berk for over a thousand years. And it seems like we’ve always been here.” He paused. “But we haven’t. There was once another Berk, back in the east. I don’t know if it’s still there.”
I gasped. “That’s not possible! This has always been Berk!”
My father laughed and ruffled my hair. “True, true. But Berk is its people, not its land. And once its land was ruled by a mighty chief. They said he could tame any dragon that came his way. Including a Night Fury.”
“Night Fury?”
“The most dangerous dragon of all. He was invisible at night due to his dark color, and when he wanted to, he could summon lightning from the gods themselves.”
It was the dragon from my dream. I started crying again, but my father hushed me. “It’s not like that,” he said. “The chief and the dragon were the best of friends. Everyday they’d ride through the night sky. They were two halves of the same coin. Dragon and human.”
I frowned. “Daddy, what happened after that? Where did the dragons go?”
My father sighed. He rubbed his eyes, like he was exhausted, though it was only midnight. The fire crackled before us as he said: “They say that a dragon hunter targeted Berk. The man who murdered all the other Night Furies had come to kill the last one.”
“No!” I protested. “The chief stopped him, right?”
“The chief made the decision to leave his old home behind, and bring his people- our people- here.” He gestured to our large living room. “All of this, Henry, is because of him. And the sacrifices he made.”
“Like what?” I said, even though I knew the answer.
“Henry,” he brushed the hair out of my eyes. “My dear boy. The chief knew it was not time for dragons and humans to be together, despite what he wanted. We humans were too dangerous for them. Too ambitious. Too clever. Too violent. So he let the dragons go, including his best friend.”
Tears prickled my eyes once more, but not for the same reason. “But where did the dragons go, Daddy? Why didn’t they come back?”
My father glanced behind his shoulder, checking to make sure no one was there. “No one knows, Henry,” he smiled. “Except for us. The chief told his children the tale of the dragons. And they told theirs. And on and on until now, where I’m telling it to you.”
“Where are they, Daddy?” I bounced in his lap. “Where are they?” |
f58029e08eae4abbbf989c7a516af5ef | ['ca650cd1eb5a4691b0f81c998989280e'] | > Forgive me for not uploading or adding onto this for quite some time. Been either busy or haven't had the chance. I now that I have the time and people seem to actually like this, I've decided to try to add on the best as I can. Although warning, I haven't been into Homestuck for a bit and with the recent updates I'm now starting to get into it more. I've decided this will still be in the AU of if the game SBURB/SGRUB were to never come into existence.
> TL;DR Been doin shit, now I will try, universe of no game, I'm rusty in terms of Hamsteak lingo. kthnx
>
> Oh also; their quirks will only be when they're typing, for me it looks stupid otherwise. Not a fan. Plus Sollux does have a lisp, since I think that's a headcanon or it is canon. Idfk. That's a thing whoopdedoo.
Yelling ensued further as the dual eyed troll snuck in quietly, not that it was hard to in the first place with the noise covering most to any noise in the small radius of it, and tried to peer in from where he thought the noise was coming from. From inside all he could make out was his friend on the floor, wrestling what seemed to be a giant… Ball thing? He couldn’t make it out too well, as a blanket which had been covering what Karkat was fighting. Frustrated even more, barking out in pain as he was bit by the thing, Karkat yelled some more.
“DID YOU REALLY JUST FUCKING BITE ME?” he roared, letting the thing scuttle away from him, the blanket dragging along the floor that was littered with some leftover food and dvd’s. Slipping the necklace into his back pocket, Sollux decided to intervene before Karkat did anything else that he would not want to see.
“Uh, KK?” he questioned, “why are you fighting a blanket-beast?” although his lisp was mild, his words make Karkat jump, obviously wasn’t prepared for someone to ‘pass by’.
Looking from Sollux and back to the bundle in the far off corner, he ran up and scooped the thing, preparing to take it to another room. “None of your business!” he yelled on his way upstairs, not in the mood to talk it seems. The yellow blood was not having it, following him by the heel with eyebrows furrowed.
“KK, why are you acting weird?” Karkat isn’t the type that would hide something so big. Maybe a dirty rom-com, he can imagine happening. But that thing was alive, and still wriggling in the shorter troll’s arms. Still trying to keep his grip on the round mound, Karkat hissed when something prodded his arm, something that looked sharp and probably had stung a little if it wasn’t too brittle to look at. Dropping the mess, whatever had scuttled out made Karkat curse under his breath making Sollux’s eyes widen.
“Uh…” Karkat began to drone, as the bright red grub had started to squeak up and cry at the new face that was behind it’s adopted ‘lusus’ (if that’s the term they wanted to use). Sollux looked to Karkat for an explanation. “Yeah, shit. Uh, please don’t rat me out or anything?”
“Karkat what the actual fuck” he sighed, the grub shivered and backed up against a wall. Groaning, Karkat got up to nurse the wiggler to calm down, petting it and something very unlike the Karkat he knew. It was rather, sweet? Cute? Words he would not dare say in front of his best friend. Once the nubbed horned troll got the little one to a room for it to rest, he walked into his lounging quarters to be met with a stern looking Sollux, almost ready to cuss him out what he had been thinking for this to happen. “Dude” Sollux spoke first, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”
“There’s not much to explain” he replied, a hand on his head as a migraine was starting to form. “I just went to clear my head the other day and, I don’t know, just found a grub and I guess I’m looking after it now?”
“You guess? You guess!?” Sollux by this point furious, “This is really dangerous, KK! Do you even know if it already has a lusus? Did you even think about if the scent could be tracked here?”
Karkat was groaning now, “I don’t know!” He was almost screaming, but something was holding him back, as if something was stopping him from going all out. Calming down, he looked at his friend in the eyes. “I just, it was alone, and I doubt it had a lusus. It probably had one but it probably either died or was given up from its blood colour. I know it’s really dangerous but, if I don’t look after it who will?” There was something in his eyes, tears? It was only a glimpse but Sollux thought he could see some red streaks forming before Karkat wiped it with his sleeve. It made sense now, or at least most of it. Karkat turned away, before he could lose himself Sollux got up to hug him from behind, stunning the shorter one. Although Karkat wasn’t one for intimacy, he didn’t pull away, turning around to cry into the others’ chest while Sollux rubbed his back.
After that was over, they sat down on the couch, Karkat explaining that they should talk before the grub awoke and began running around like the little shit it was. “… The grub reminds you of yourself, doesn’t it?” Sollux asked, thinking it was better to ask questions now that his friend had calmed down from earlier.
“I guess you can say that” he never really thought about it when it had happened, it was just instinct that led himself to take it home “I guess I had been pretty lucky without, you know, the whole getting caught thing. But I had a Lusus and I got to build a functional Hive, so it wasn’t too bad just yet.”
They both sighed, Sollux starting to feel uncomfortable. Scratching his ass he remembered why he had originally came here. Glancing to Karkat, he grounded up the small amount of courage to ask him the question. Gripping the gift tightly he started, gulping any saliva that had wanted to prevent him from speaking. “Karkat-“
Wailing. Loud and obnoxious coming from upstairs had Karkat running to the staircase, not before saying “can this wait? The little shit probably just woke up.”
Sollux sighed, he guess he’ll have his chance another time.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm having troubles of where to branch of to next, I'm hoping to do at least 1,000 words per chapter, but ideas I haven't the faintest idea.
>
> And I'm sorry if my typing style has changed, I'll eventually revamp my older chapters. I'm just too tired to be doing that. I just hoped this will suffice. | 5b1f186d7dd64822ba6c93ad96954739 | ['ca650cd1eb5a4691b0f81c998989280e'] | She's wanted to escape for so long, almost forever. Her only memory is at this very facility. Every moment of her life that she recalls has to do with surviving this crazy place. This little core knows this, he'll do whatever it takes for both of them to get out of here.
It hurt to be dropped from the Management rail, you know. Taking the biggest risk of his life right there, in front of her like some show. But it's alright though, he understands, right?
Out of all the jobs, he got the worst. Tending to the smelly humans, they were all weak and disgusting. Look at them, hobbling about in the test chambers. How pitiful. The core almost actually feels sorry for them. But why waste feelings over a species that will die as soon as they get hit by an Energy Ball.
What are you talking about, waste feelings? There are no emotions to waste in the first place! He's only a core, a robot, a moron.
All those days of watching test subjects dying, oh man, were those sometimes. It's obviously majorly different now. SO much different, it's hard to describe.
This one lone Testing Subject, let alone a female, has gone through so much to simply survive, it's quite inspiring to him really.
Maybe this is fate, maybe they were both meant to find each other and strive to get out of here, although her muteness stands between the communications barriers, her actions say all the more.
It was all terrible. What was thought to be a great plan, turned into major rubble under her touch. Switching the entities in the mainframe, what could possibly go wrong? Oh that's right, a giant backstab. How many times has that been done to her these past years, twice?
Drip, a sound echoed through the empty building. All throughout the hallways. It wasn't a leaky pipe though, it was her tears. As she silently sobbed, tears hitting the metal below while trekking onwards in hopes of finding some hope in her life.
Why did this happen to her. She didn't mean to feel so attached to the little ball. But the way it lively spoke, and his funny little gestures. How can one not feel accustomed to it? |
4a3bc878343e4aa3a3b784b56096ab1d | ['ca7298b80d75400f911e9ab75204e92a'] |
_One day you might meet a human that will make you wish they could see you. Why don't you try to materialize yourself around humans to see if one of them can see you in that form?_
"Tch, like I would ever want to show myself to stupid humans." Kageyama mumbled under his breath as he floated down the halls. "I'm a ghost, why would anyone be able to see me? Gramps was wrong, I will never be able to show myself to other humans, I've tried materializing myself in front of them for almost a century now, all I got out of it was loneliness and being permanently stuck in this stupid school building." He grumbled as looked down the hall.
Kageyama watched as the students walked past him, laughing and smiling as they headed to the shoe lockers so they could change their shoes and head home. He wanted to be like that, to walk next to a human and talk about normal things like clubs and final exams. He let out a sigh as he tried to think back to what drew him to this school in the first place. He couldn't remember much, just that something compelled him here like a moth to a flame.
He felt a sharp pain radiate through his skull as he tried to remember what is was that did draw him here. "No luck." He winced a little as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He waited for the pain to leave before opening his eyes again, just to see a short orange haired boy standing in front of him, staring at him intensely.
He jumped a little in surprise before glaring at the boy. "Oi you dumbass, you scared the shit out of me." He said defensively. "Oh wait you can't hear me anyways." He whispered to himself as he looked away. "Sorry." The orange haired boy said quietly, cutting through Kageyama's train of thought, before walking briskly away from Kageyama.
Kageyama's eyes widened in shock as the word echoed in his head. Did he say that to me? No way that's not possible, no one can see me. Especially when I haven't materialized in front of them... Right?
Kageyama turned around to see if the boy was still near him, only to find the hall was empty. "Shit, where did he go?" He mumbled to himself absent mindedly as he floated around the school, sticking his head through every classroom he could find, frantically searching for the shrimpy boy.
Where? Where is he? His search became even more frantic as he came to the last couple classes, finding him in neither of them. Where else could he be? Is he in a club or did he leave the school early? He hoped that it wasn't the last option. Kageyama bit his lip in frustration as he thought of the possible places he could look while still being within the school grounds.
The only places left are the club rooms and the gyms. He let out a puff of air as he closed his eyes, concentrating on his spirit before materializing legs from his ghostly form. He sprinted down the halls, opening every door he could find to search for the boy before he headed for the gyms. He stood in front of the gym door for what felt like years before turning back into his ghostly form and passing through the door.
He glanced around the gym court, finding it empty. He frowned. Just as he was about to pass through the wall to get to the gym next door he saw the short orange haired boy walk out of what looked like to be the storage room, carrying a mop. Kageyama floated over to the boy and watched as he began to mop the floor. He was mesmerized as he followed every move the boy made with the large mop, watching him glide it across the floor, all while wishing he could do such a simple task with another human.
Without thinking he materialized in front of the boy and grabbed onto his shirt. "Oi, were you talking to me earlier today? I'm sure that you did..." The boy remained silent.
"I know you can feel me grabbing onto your shirt..." He glanced down at the floor as he clenched his free hand into a tight fist. He held his breath as he felt the boy halt his movements.
"Yeah I can feel you tugging at my shirt. I could tell you were here, I could feel your presence even without seeing you." The small boy said quietly as he turned to look at Kageyama.
"But how?" Kageyama asked in surprise as he glanced up to bring his gaze back towards the boy's eyes. "No one has been able to see or hear me for almost ten years now, I've tried so many times to reach out and touch an actual human... To have a normal conversation with one... So how can you?" Kageyama looked intently at the short boy, awaiting his answer with anticipation.
"I can see dead people. It's this special gift that runs through my family's blood." He pulled his shirt out of Kageyama's grasp and smiled at him. "I'm Hinata Shouyo. But you can just call me Hinata." He said confidently. Kageyama stared at the boy in front of him with a hint of confusion at the weird name. "Hinata..." The name felt foreign as it slipped off his tongue. "I'm Kageyama Tobio... I have a bunch of questions to ask you." Kageyama said with a little bit of excitement. | d5f330d3ece34a6ea5b44caac6a01d9a | ['ca7298b80d75400f911e9ab75204e92a'] | _"So Mr. Squirrel isn't coming back?" He felt his father's hand rest on top of his head and glanced up with fresh tears in his eyes. "Mr. Squirrel went to a better place. He is no longer in the marble."_
_The child sat on the floor, his fingers gripping the blue marble. "I wanted to be just like you... But I can't even keep a ghost in the orb without breaking it."_
_He heard a small sigh escape his father's lips before he was lifted off the floor. "If you want to be just like me then remember this. You can use the orb to transport spirits wherever you want, and they will stay with you as long as the orb is near them and they have successfully linking with it, but it is not indestructible. It can break just like any other form of glass so you must be careful with it at all times, especially if you are carrying a spirit within it. Although you can transport them within the glass, doesn't mean you keep them in it forever." His father gave him a pointed look._
_"You will be able to save the next spirit so long as it is not in the marble when it breaks."_
Hinata let out a shaky breath as he lifted the now shattered orb to his mouth, ignoring the sharp pain as the slivers of glass slid along his tongue to slowly fuse back into place.
A minute passed before he reached in his mouth and pulled out the orb, only to see that it was barely fusing together.
"No it has to work..." He muttered frantically to himself. Hinata crawled over to Kageyama's body to see that a translucent glow was beginning to form over the edges of his body.
"Don't go anywhere Kageyama. Don't go where I can't follow you. I need you." Tears flowed down his eyes, and at that moment he felt like he was five again, standing before his father with the broken orb.
His tongue stung as the shards dug into the sensitive muscle. A soft whimper sounded from the back of his throat as he moved closer to the raven, bringing their faces closer until he rested against Kageyama's forehead.
"Come back to me Kags." The glass shards slid down his tongue as he spoke, a couple fell onto Kageyama's lip. Hinata watched as the little slivers glinted with his saliva, the coated shards slid towards the crevice where Kageyama's two lips met.
Anxiously Hinata licked his bottom lip as he watched the shards move with achingly slow speed. The shards on his tongue scratched against his bottom lip as it ran across the cracked skin, causing them to bleed a little.
"Saliva..." He whispered softly to himself as he leaned closer to the raven's lips.
Hesitantly he ran his tongue over Kageyama's lip to place the shards back in his mouth. "You can hit me later for this Kags." Hinata inhaled deeply before he slowly pressed his lips to Kageyama's.
The feel of Kageyama's cool lips against his heated ones sent a shiver down his spine. "You're so cold Kags." Hinata mumbled as he slipped his tongue in between the icy lips that were Kageyama's.
He gently ran his tongue across Kageyama's, letting the shards settle on his tongue. The softness that he felt from the contact made him let out an involuntary sound which made him jump back from surprise, breaking contact.
"What was I about to do?" Hinata reached up and placed a finger to his lips reliving the feeling of them being pressed against Kageyama's soft, cool ones. Oh god I can't believe I was focusing on the feeling more than helping Kageyama!
He glanced back at Kageyama. I'll just check to see... Hinata leaned over Kageyama's body again, looming at his face before he once again pressed their lips together. This time he wasted no time slipping his tongue past the raven's lips.
He relished the feeling of his tongue roaming through Kageyama's mouth. Ever since he met Kageyama, all he could think about was this, exploring parts of him that no one else was able to touch.
His tongue froze as he glided it over the taller boy's tongue, only to find that the shards were missing. Once again he pulled away from the raven's mouth.
"Oh no. That can't be!" He tried desperately to catch his breath. "Kageyama. I killed Kageyama! Oh no, oh no!" Hinata felt the tears well up in his eyes. He covered his face with his hands and let out a desperate wail.
This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Make it stop, bring back Kageyama.
His stomach clenched in knots that made him want to double over and cry out. Hinata gasped slightly at the feeling before letting out a wailing cry. "Kageyama don't leave me alone, please! I need you. I need you... Love... I love you. Oh god I love you so much it hurts!"
He took in a shaky breath and tried to calm down, as he squeezed his eyes shut. Just trying to do anything he could to block out reality.
"I love you too." Hinata froze at the voice that filled his ears before he opened his eyes. Kageyama looked down at him with a small smirk on his face, his eyes fixated on Hinata.
"It was just getting interesting too." Kageyama crawled over to Hinata and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. "You need to put some clothes on, dumbass. You're butt-ass-naked."
Hinata let out a strangled laugh before pressing his body closer to Kageyama's body. Warmth spreading throughout his body. "I thought you had died again. The orb was gone and usually that means that-" |
74301708910040d79ef624598afbd2ac | ['ca8137c8a38e49318780674411332c5f'] | “I just saved your ass.” Kira’s brow arches. “The least you could do is say thank you.”
“Thank you...?”
Shepard pushes herself up, her elbow conveniently jabbing into my guts.
I choke and lurch upward, my hand instinctively rushing to protect my stomach from further attack.
Shepard glances out the window, a smirk crossing her features. “The assassin is gone for now, but I get the feeling she’ll be back. And I’m sure that by now C-Sec is on their way.”
Kira spins on her toes, her dark eyes coming to rest on my face. For a second her irises flicker over my bare chest, and I catch a glimpse of softness in her eyes. My chest tightens as the faint light brushes against the gentle contours of her form. All I can think about is the night before Ilos, a time when I had been allowed to look, allowed to worship her without feeling ashamed of myself. Now I’m desperately trying to cloak my emotions. Shepard’s gaze, on the other hand, lingers for just a moment too long and her cheeks instantly redden. She turns away, her hand instinctively wandering up to the juncture of her neck nervously.
“C’mon, we need to move,” Kira barks at me as she steps across the room.
Suddenly she chokes out a cry, her hand instantly going to press against the right side of her abdomen. Shepard moans faintly, doubling over in obvious pain.
I leap to my feet. Rushing to her side, I move to press my hand over hers. “What happened?” I can feel that she’s trembling slightly. “Shepard, show me what’s wrong. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” She growls, shrugging me off.
I grip her wrist and spin her around, forcibly pulling her palm away from her waist. I balk at the fresh blood dripping down her fingers. “Oh hell, Kira...”
The spreading stain is particularly apparent against the torn white cloth of her tank top. The wound is nasty – small and jagged, but deep; clearly made by a rogue shard of glass. She must have been slashed when she threw me to the ground a few minutes earlier.
“You need medi-gel,” I persist, but Shepard is having none of it.
“Leave it!” She exclaims, pulling away. “I’ve had worse.” Despite near palpable agony, she shoves past me and reaches for the duffel bag. I can see the disconcertment in her eyes when, after retrieving her clothes and some gear from the bag, she looks up to find me still studying her. “Kaidan, for goodness sake. We don’t have all night. Get your gear.”
The faint sound of a siren warns me of another impending danger. If we’re caught here, C-Sec will take Shepard, and who knows where that assassin has gone. I somehow doubt she was caught in that grenade blast. Besides, there is a good chance that after this, Bailey will never agree to let me guard Shepard again.
I force a nod, reaching for my navy pants and my black leather jacket. Then, I stash a few spare thermal clips in my pocket before slipping my pistol into the belt of my trousers. “Just don’t overdo it, Shepard. You’re not in your armor anymore.”
She zips up her knee-high boots, all the while glaring at me from beneath those long dark lashes. “It doesn’t make a difference – I can still whip you.” Kira shrugs on her brown leather coat, wincing as she lifts her arm fractionally. “Damn it,” She mutters, cringing in pain. A moment later, her soldier mask is in place, and her beautiful face becomes unreadably calm. Using her left arm to raise her pistol, Kira surveys the empty parking lot. “Oh hell. Okay Kaidan – we’re going to have to move on foot.”
I step through the broken window frame to find that our acquisitioned skycar is little more than a bullet-hole ridden, smashed-up wreck.
“Those bullets had some force behind them,” I remark dryly, kicking the dented side door in frustration.
By now the sirens are little more than a block away.
“Come on,” I call to Shepard as I spot a dark alley. “We can go this way.” I summon a small amount of biotic energy, lighting up my left fist to guide our way.
“You have no idea where you’re going, do you?” Kira bites out after a few minutes of walking.
I flash a wry grin at her over my shoulder. “Call it improvisation, Shepard.”
“How about I call it confusion?” Shepard shakes her head, her crimson hair swaying around her shoulders. “I still remember how many times we got lost in the Mako thanks to your directions – I counted 6 incidents before Garrus finally took that map away from you.”
“You were the one driving!” I protest, “I told you then, and I’ll tell you again: it was the compass. The wretched thing wasn’t calibrated properly.”
“Uh-huh. And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you failed navigation basics at the academy – twice? Argh.” Kira moans and sways slightly, reaching out with her hand to steady herself against a brick wall.
“Okay that’s it,” I mutter, storming back to her and pulling up my omni-tool. “I’m not going to sit back here and watch you deliberately hurt yourself.”
“I told you, I can handle it—”
I evade her defences, slipping my hand under her jacket. I scan the wound with my omnitool. Kira growls furiously, the deep-throated warning reverberating through her chest and against my palm. Before she can fight me off again, I tap an order into the control panel of my device. Her eyes visibly widen as the cool touch of the medigel settles against the wound, easing the pain and temporarily sealing the lesion.
“Better?” I ask, tilting my head forward to get a better look at her. | bd898b1b847b49ddb888e17eed52cc51 | ['ca8137c8a38e49318780674411332c5f'] | A few hours later, she had walked me to my sky-car. As I turned to go, the reporter held out her datapad and told me to hold onto it for a few days. “I have to go and do another job,” She informed me, “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop writing.”
“I’m not an author!” I shake my head vehemently. “I’m no good with words.”
“How can you say that? You’re telling the story, Kaidan, I’m just writing it down.” She thrusts it at me. “ _Take it._ If you remember something important, then you can record it. Trust me; it will do you good to talk to something other than me for a change.”
So here I am – two days later, lying in bed and staring dumbly at my ceiling.
_Great Emily – thanks a lot. You’ve got me talking to the mildew instead._
It’s not a particularly nice apartment. I’m staying in temporary lodgings while the Alliance repair crews and the other volunteers continue the clean-up effort. My apartment is really just a two-room flat. A claustrophobic bathroom, and a bedroom and a kitchenette in the tiny living space aren’t exactly ideal living conditions, and it has taken some getting used to. The bed, on the other hand, I’ll never get used to – it sinks terribly in the middle, and that’s with just me in it. As I’m sure I’ve said before, it’s not the first time I’ve lived out of a shoebox. It is, however, the first time I’ve lived out of a _mouldy_ shoebox.
A siren sounds beneath my window. It’s an eerie sound, especially in the dark. Red and blue lights flash across my ceiling as a police sky-car rushes down the street. Somehow I get the feeling that I’m not going to be getting any more sleep tonight.
I stretch my legs as I ease off the bed, making for the bathroom. The floor squeaks as I step onto the tiles and flick on the light switch – a watery patch on the ceiling greets me.
_Great. Another leak._
I shake my head. I’ll have to call maintenance and hope that they have a gap in their schedule sometime in the next month. Otherwise, I’ll have to navigate around a bucket as well, and with the tiny floor-space, moving in this apartment is difficult enough.
I slip off my shorts, crank up the hot water and step under the shower. My mind flashes back to the first Normandy, and the times Shepard and I had shared there. The Normandy had been smaller then – it was difficult to find time alone. We were interrupted numerous times. It didn’t seem to matter whether we were stealing a silent moment in the armoury or whether Shepard invited me to her cabin: somebody found a way to butt in.
Joker in particular became a master at it.
Yes... Joker. He was a brilliant pilot, and he is still a great friend. But if there is one thing that got under my skin, it was his uncanny way of knowing when we _didn’t_ want to be disturbed. Sometimes I wondered whether he’d developed some kind of formula: _Wait ten minutes after they’ve come back from a mission and then radio Shepard about the council. Yes, that will do it!_
After a few minutes, I step out of the shower and move toward the vanity. The mirror is foggy – not just from steam, but from tarnishing. I can just make out my reflection in the glass. My face still looks the same, but my hair is the result of the stresses of war. As I run a comb through it, I can see grey among the jet black strands. A few months ago, I had barely been showing any signs of age. Now, the hair above my ears is turning silver. I can’t help but wonder what Shepard would think if she could see it. Would she have liked this ‘mature’ look? I can’t quite come to terms with it – mostly because I don’t want to change. I want to be the Kaidan she remembered.
Towelling myself off, I step back into the other room. My eyes instantly wander to the datapad on the nightstand. I pick it up, holding it in my clammy hands nervously as I weigh my options.
_What would Shepard have wanted me to write?_
I sit down on the bed, open the manuscript document and begin typing.
* * *
**\---2184---**
I must be the luckiest man alive.
It has been three months since the Battle of the Citadel – three long, calm, wonderful months. It still hasn’t quite hit home yet; part of me still wonders whether this glorious peace can last. I hope it can. Because where I am right now, life couldn’t be more perfect.
She’s asleep in my arms: the strongest, the kindest, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. And she’s here, with me. Never in my wildest dreams did I truly think that this could actually happen. Alliance rules and regulations stipulated only too clearly that a relationship between officers was off-limits. For months I sat on my hands and bided my time. Looking back, I wish I had acted sooner, but after our shore leave I’m just grateful for the time we’ve had. That rulebook is probably still out there somewhere, floating among the stars. No matter the consequences, I know now that I could never have made any other choice. |
be1b1f32015a4d5b8eb520eb4d6ea7ef | ['ca9fa0d3d11c47e2ad4e15ba878e764d'] | At noon, they'd finished practicing and there was no sign of the singer, so they went on with their lives. Murdoc checked his phone, surprised to see that he'd been left a voicemail by… 2D? He played it and held the phone up to his ear.
_'Hey, Murdoc, I'm sorry. I never meant to make you hate me. Though I don't know why you hate me. Nevermind that. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I love this band and I love you. More than anything. You guys were the best mates anyone could have. Your safety and happiness was more important than my own. That's all I had to say, so er, bye Muds.'_
The bassist let his phone fall to the ground. He was shocked. 2D loved him. He went to check the bluenette's bedroom. Nothing. Completely clean. A cupboard was opened and a box was empty. A note on the box read, ' _Property of Stuart Pot. Hands off_ '. He tore the note off and almost threw up at the next note after unfolding it.
_To whomever it may concern,_
_First off, fuck you for snooping. But whatever, I guess I can't stop you._
_There was a gun in this box, along with a bullet. Both have been used if you're reading this and they're gone. Which means that they've been used as a suicide tool, on me most likely._
_Wanna know something funny? I never planned to use them unless it was absolutely necessary. And if you're reading this, it was necessary. I most likely confessed my love to a person who could care less about me after calling two people who cared mosnt. Russel first, then Noodle. Which means that I've confessed to Murdoc. It's all his fault._
_I couldn't take the abuse anymore. I couldn't take the headaches anymore. They were too much. So, I decided to end my life. I most likely did it early in the morning, and a loud noise was probably heard. Whoops._
_Now that I'm dead, you may know where I am. There's a tree at the edge of the property. You'll have to get past zombies and go around gravestones to get there._
_Have fun. - Stuart Pot_
Murdoc backed away from the box, a look of complete terror on his face. He'd gone pale from realization that the bang from earlier was not a zombie, but a _gunshot_ that was loud enough to echo throughout the property. He felt sick and unable to move, so he screamed. His thoughts were jumbled together as he attempted to form a coherent sentence, but he could only say the word _tree_ over and over.
Russel walked into the room, confused as to why the usually angry bassist had screamed in terror. "Muds?" the drummer questioned, earning a look of discomfort from the man frozen in fear on 2D's bed. "Why're you babbling on about trees?" he asked and got no answer. "2D...tree..." Murdoc said, beginning to rock back and forth with his knees to his chest.
Murdoc wanted to speak, but the note had terrorized him to the point that he was frozen. He wanted to run to the tree that 2D had mentioned, but was terrified of what he'd see.
He willed himself to move and ran out of Kong, not stopping to answer protests asking what he was sprinting for. He ran to the only tree he could think of and collapsed. Blood was pooling out of 2D's head, turning his blue hair an indigo colour. Beside his head was a gun, also covered in crimson. His neck was broken, making his head face outward. Even if the gun hadn't killed the bluenette, the fall would have.
Murdoc choked back tears and looked away, incapable of looking at the sight in front of him any longer. He stood up and screwed his eyes shut, feeling for the weapon on the ground and picking it up. Once it was safely in his hands, he threw it with full force away from the tree. It hit a gravestone and made a _cling_ sound once it collided with the stone.
He picked Stuart's arms up, wrappings his hands around the singer's wrists, and began dragging the lifeless body towards Kong Studios. His brain was empty of any thoughts and all he wanted to do was scream, but he stayed silent, ignoring the cries belonging to Noodle. Russel stood frozen, holding onto her as Murdoc continued to pull 2D, eventually helping the bassist do whatever he was doing.
They walked up to 2D's room and Murdoc laid him on the bed. He bandaged his head up, still not fully aware that the bluenette was dead. "I-I can fix him. He's n-not dead. Just unconscious," Murdoc said softly, forcing his eyelids open. The black eyes were drained of any life, but it was ignored. He sat next to the lifeless singer and proceeded to sing. He'd been pulled out of his drunken state by fear, so his singing was better.
" _Windmill, windmill for the land_
_Turn forever, hand in hand_
_Take it all in on your stride_
_It is ticking, falling down_
_Love forever, love is free_
_Let's turn forever, you and me_
_Windmill, windmill for the land_
_Is everybody_ -"
The singing stopped as the bassist began sobbing. He laid his head on 2D's chest, sobbing harder at the absence of breathing and a heartbeat. He clutched onto his shirt and his tears soaked the shirt the bluenette was wearing. "Please-Please wake up. I nee-need you. Bluebird, wake up. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so, so sorry. I'll do anything. Please," Murdoc babbled, unable to control his crying.
"I love you."
**Author's Note:**
> people liked this when i originally posted it on both fanfiction.net & wattpad, so i decided to post it here as well, making it the first thing i’ve ever posted on ao3.
>
> i hope it doesn’t suck because i worked really hard on it (it took almost a week to write). | c891121102c243e08b3f9c189ea98dfd | ['ca9fa0d3d11c47e2ad4e15ba878e764d'] | Feelings?
**Author's Note:**
> I’ve seen a few of these AUs floating around and I thought, ‘Hey, why not make my own, and add a bit of angst, as I am the queen of angst!’, so yeah. I am the queen of angst, especially Gorillaz/2Doc angst. I mean, I wrote an entire book where it ended in angst, so that sorta proves it.
"Do you feel... love, master?”
Murdoc’s head shot up in surprise at the voice which belonged to the machine he made. He hadn’t heard the word love, well, since…
He didn’t answer, so the thing continued. “Sorry. What is love? Can I feel it, this _love_?” the robot asked, accentuating the last word. “No, you can’t,” Murdoc replied, pressing the pencil to the notebook so hard that the tip broke. The Cyborg nodded and continued to watch as Murdoc turned the page in order for him to continue writing whatever it was that he was working on.
”Master, what are you working on?”
Murdoc growled, wondering why the Hell he’d ever given the thing the ability to talk. Oh yeah – to sing. Why had he ever forced 2D imto filming the El Mañana video? Surely it wasn’t to see the singer fail.
”Master, you are crying. What is wrong?” Cyborg asked and Murdoc let out an audible gasp. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been crying. The bassist wiped his eyes and brought his fingers in front of his face. The were slightly wet, and tears continued to follow the ones that had been wiped away.
”You’re insane, Dentface. I’m not crying; I’ve just got somethin’ in my eyes,” he lied and the Cyborg seemed to believe him.
Upon looking at the notebook, Murdoc saw that he’d made no progress and instead had begun a shitty drawing of 2D. As he began to scribble it out, the Cyborg version of 2D noticed the resemblance.
”I apologize that I am not him. He must have meant a lot to you if you have made me in his image.”
Murdoc sniffed and looked up at the robot. What would he say? ‘Oh, I just lost the love of my life less than five years ago, so you’re his replacement.”.
”He meant more than a lot to me. I loved him, but I made him film a video which got him killed. You’re the only part of Stu I have left,” Murdoc explained as Noodle walked into the room. Once learning of 2D’s death, Noodle had tracked down Murdoc. First, she slapped him for what he’d done, then comforted him because she missed the blunette a lot as well.
She’d caught Murdoc both having full conversations with a dead man at any moment in time, and talking randomly to the Cyborg while he was off and charging. Now, she had found him talking about the real 2D to the Cyborg version of him.
”You know, it won’t help anything if you continue on with this,” she said, referring to the fact that Murdoc was speaking to Cyborg like he was actually 2D, but without the violence and rude words. “But, Noodle, you don’t understand. This is all I have left of him,” Murdoc replied, staring blankly into the blank eyes eyes of the Cyborg, the artificial blackness doing nothing; a blank expression.
”I miss him, Noodle. I can’t think without his face being constantly _there._ It’s like his eyes are piercing into my brain. What’s wrong with me?” he whispered.
Noodle hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck comforting the bassist. “I miss him too, you know. Not as much as you do, I don’t believe, but I miss him a lot,” she said, feeling hot tears on her shoulders.
”I just… I can’t believe he’s gone – and it’s all my fault,” Murdoc said. “No, no. It’s not your fault,” Noodle said, hugging him tighter.
”But it _is._ I forced him to film the video! It should have been me, but nobody wants to see me in a video!”
Murdoc was distraught and blamed himself for 2D’s death.
The bluenette was supposed to open a parachute but the specific parachute never opened, leaving the island to fall while he was on it and the bomb that was dropped exploded, killing the singer.
Murdoc shuddered involuntarily, continuing to cry.
Noodle eventually left, leaving Murdoc to what he was previously doing.
”Master, are you… feeling?” Cyborg 2D asked and Murdoc nodded. “I’m feeling… upset. Guilty, angry, sad,” he replied and Cyborg nodded. “Angry… is that a good feeling or a bad feeling?”
”It’s a bad feeling. So is guilty and upset and sad. They’re negative feelings. And negative feelings aren’t good either.”
Cyborg 2D nodded once again, then it hugged Murdoc. “I am sorry you have all of these… negative feelings. I will never experience these as I cannot feel, but humans can feel and it sounds like it hurts.”
Murdoc sniffed. “I wish you could feel, so you could be more like Stu,” he said and Cyborg attempt to smile, in order to make Murdoc feel better.
”And to answer your previous question, yes, I do feel love. I loved my singer a lot, but he died and I can’t stop thinking about him. I feel love, along with other things. And I wish I didn’t.”
**Author's Note:**
> I do believe this took an hour to write, exactly. Also, I watched Shane Dawson as I wrote this. |
b45ca882a3064c1ba2fe9db2bb703a25 | ['cab10bdff99b4db28462f9a023ecc096'] | After a few idle exchanges and an empty glass, Izuku excused himself from the group. There was little resistance in his dismissal, though Todoroki did narrow his eyes in a way that had the OFA successor sweat as though his hand were caught in the cookie jar. He gave another cheerful smile as he made way to the other side of the room where the buffet was. Not that he didn’t appreciate being part of the group, far from in fact. Ever since Middle School he had been ostracized as the ‘weird kid’; Quirkless, constantly writing in his little notebook about the different stats and abilities of others, mumbling allowed in the middle of class in a way that spooked his other classmates.
Shaking himself from his stupor he continued to make his way over to the buffet. It was a feat with all nearly every inch of the place covered in small clusters of people chatting away like long last friends at a reunion, and once or twice Midoriya had pushed or bumped past someone with a flurry of apologies before finally settling at the small drink fountain. An actual fountain, marble statue and all. Honestly, sometimes it was hard to remember just how luxurious this place was.
Yes... Things were better now, and he had made friends and great strides in his dream, and none of that would have been possible without All Might.
All Might, who’s rippling muscles caused the overlayer of the jacket to glide like a gentle wave as he clamped a friendly hand on the back of Present Mic, the other man clearly taken off balance and sputtering as his drink swayed and splattered a little onto the pristine table cloth in front of him. His mentor gave another signature hearty laugh, the movement causing his deltoid and trapezius muscles to flex and bend, his suit straining to contain the Pro-Hero’s frame.
What Izuku wouldn’t give to just run his hand across the silk like material, feeling the smooth velvet under the unyielding bicep just underneath. Or to feel the hard pectorals beneath the stark white button-down dress shirt. It really did do him a world of good to wear that suit. Usually pinstripes would be a challenge to pull off, but of course his predecessor would be able to wear it without much difficulty. Even the way his striking blond hair contrasted against the dark deep-set blues of the suit only enhanced the overall Adonis theme of his figure.
Truthfully, it wasn’t just the suit. It was the way he carried himself as well. He looked so in his element. _’This must be the mark of a hero, to be in any situation and appear unperturbed,’_ Izuku thought as he watched on, captivated. Obviously not a skill he was even close to mastering. He couldn't even talk to a girl without being a stammering, sweaty mess. And not to mention the bawling theatrics on display whenever he was genuinely moved by someone's kindness.
There was honestly something to behold about how lost in thought the young man could easily find himself in. The sudden pat on his left shoulder had him tense, along with a booming “Young Midoriya! Here you are!”
Dropping the glass onto the fabric below (thank god that the tall glass didn’t shatter at the impact). It was a large comforting hand that squeezed his should at the same time he dropped the flute that immediately calmed Midorya as he craned his neck back. All Might moved his hand away when Izuku moved to face him, the symbol of peace giving a bashful and somewhat ashamed look.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, my boy,” All Might said apologetically, and Izuku felt almost equally ashamed for making the man worry.
“O-oh! Hey, All Might! Sorry about that, I was just... distracted,” he said, eyes trailing down his thick neck to that stark white shirt and- oh... he hadn’t realized his mentor had decided on a deep burgundy tie. It stood out perfectly against the darker color wrapped around his core and chest-
Izuku quickly averted his eyes. What was wrong with him? Of all places, this wouldn’t be the one to suddenly pop a boner in front of dignitaries and student faculty. Midoriya focused his breathing and closed his eyes. _That’ll be enough of that train of thought, **thank you very much.**_
If All Might noticed the sudden aversion he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave a broad smile. “No worries, Young Midoriya! I was just checking in to see how you were faring the party,” came the cheerful reply. The teen couldn’t help but smile more to himself at the response. Leave it to the Worlds’ Greatest Hero to make sure even someone like him felt comfortable and as though he were the only thing that really mattered. No matter the event or time, he could always rely on All Might for support.
Realizing the question hadn’t been answered, Izuku cleared his throat and smiled back. “I’m doing great! Just taking a break from all the talking and groups I guess,” he said, excuse pretty weak but All Might still gave a thoughtful nod.
A comfortable silence passed between the two of them. This close Midoriya could glance up and see the fine stitching, the fine threads of the suit and a keen look at the golden cufflinks on the sleeves of All Might’s jacket. Even the subtle hint of some unknown but stimulating cologne the older man was wearing wafted through the air and Izuku could feel his knees buckling at the sight alone.
_This was dangerous. It was beyond dangerous..._ | 6b15ae4b84fa4c27a7f7c0759e75cb72 | ['cab10bdff99b4db28462f9a023ecc096'] | “Do you want me to...?” the question hung in the air and Izuku quickly shook his head. All Might offering to take care of him was always the first thing that was said when this happened. Not that it was unappreciated, but it was the last thing that he wanted right now.
“No! N-no I mean...” He slowly ran his eyes down the toned muscular body, to the much more prominent erection pressed stubbornly against navy blue. Biting his bottom lip, he looked up with shy wide green eyes. “... Can I do it? I just... I really want... M-my mouth on you,” he said, the words blurred together as they tumbled out in a rushed stutter.
God what he wouldn’t give. He needed this. Would beg for it. It was the only thing running through his mind all evening.
Toshinori appeared taken aback by his boy’s brazen actions. Who knew that just below the surface of the eager hero in training ready to prove himself laid an equally perverse and unabashed lewd little teen? The hero covered his face with his hand, equally flustered as he nodded.
“Anything you want, my boy.”
Izuku gave him another awkward smile before sinking to his knees, eye level with the front of All Might’s pants. He couldn’t believe this was happening. To preemptively leave a large social gathering to make out like horny teens on prom night wasn’t really on Izuku’s list of UA experiences, but it was too good to let slip away. The boy took his time running his hands over the tough quads, lightly grabbing at the inner thighs and hips of the man before him. It was always such a tease to see him in his hero uniform, tightly cladding him and leaving little to the imagination. But this... maybe it was the fact he never really saw Toshinori in both his hero form and suit that often. With a sigh he ran his hand from the inner thigh and gently trailed it up to the clothed erection, hearing a deep grunt of approval from his mentor.
He took little time teasing, knowing that time would really be of the essence. He might be off the hook, but there was no way the staff would take so leisurely to the prolonged absence of the #1 Hero.
Giving one more excited grab to the imprisoned cock, he unzipped the slacks and went to freeing the throbbing member. All Might gave a sigh as his cock hit the cool air in the room, already half mass and glistening lightly with precum. Izuku gave it a couple of hearty pumps and watched in awe and excitement as it started to thicken and stand to full attention.
A groan echoed in the walls of the room as the teen gave a small inquisitive lick to the head of the cock. He looked up innocently with batting lashes at the tight grin that greeted him above. Already Toshinori looked like he was ready to burst; face dusted with heat, hands tightening at his sides. “Ah... Young Midoriya... I know I said anything you want. But, please-” another cut off groan as small nimble fingers stroked along the thick veins of his cock, “Give this old man some relief.”
Izuku pouted at the terminology. Sure, he wasn’t in his prime like in the Golden Age, but he was far from being as old as he thought he was. “You’re not old...” came the weak rebuttal as he leaned in again as he grabbed the base of his dick and slowly eased himself down with a moan. He laid his tongue flat against the underside, relishing in the thick taste of the man. His other hand went to All Might’s right hip, burying his fingers into the taut muscle for leverage as he started to bob his head back and forth.
All Might threw his head back, lost in the sensation and trying his best not to be too loud. A large calloused hand made its way in that tuff of soft green hair. He rubbed his fingers against the scalp, earning a shiver and thorough suck and teasing twist of his tongue against the head from his protégé.
“Ahh, my boy... You are doing... Wonderfully-” All Might moaned out with little thrust of his hips into that welcoming heat.
Midoriya gave another moan and shiver, though this time more from the fact that he was being praised for doing such a great job for his partner. It always gave him a little flutter of butterflies in the pit of his stomach when he was complimented by the older male. With renewed vigor he eased further down on that glorious thick cock, taking in nearly half of it before coughing slightly as it brushed against the back of his throat.
_’Still need to practice on getting that far with it,’_ he thought a little crestfallen but didn’t let it deter as he tried again, swallowing around All Might as he jerked off what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. “Shit,” was the soft hiss of a response, the hand in his curly hair tightening almost painfully as toned hips thrusted forward to get more access.
Another gag and cough came from Izuku, but he didn’t make move to usher away as All Might attempted to bury himself deeper in that hot young mouth. Instead the teen tried relaxing his throat and was rewarded when he heard a hitch from above and the tremble in those quads.
Taking a chance, Midoriya used his other hand and moved it to just under his predecessor’s cock, to the hefty sac. He cradled it gently as he continued to deepthroat, his other hand still working the shaft eagerly. The combined stimulation seemed to do its job as he felt Toshi seize up with a guttural moan. |
541116e64f6f4a21942dc13c36a411e9 | ['cabf25109f7d4e1097f56641f082dca5'] | Cerberus barked that no, he did not know what sleep was, and Hades groaned again as he rolled out of bed. He chased Cerberus away, so he could smooth down the black sheets of his black bed because, of course, his room was entirely black like the rest of his house. It was also rather… scarce. Just a bed, the usual drawers, a wardrobe, and a small shelf with some old books, on top of which sat his helmet of invisibility. It was about time he dusted it; it was losing its shine. The only splash of colour were the flowers he had collected from Persephone, kept in a vase on his bedside. They were only a small selection of the flowers, for most he kept in his dining room in the vase that sat in the centre of his table, next to his pomegranate bowl.
Hades padded across the room in only a pair of pyjama bottoms. The coldness of the Underworld never bothered him, not when he was the god of that very realm. He never needed a shirt.
His pyjama bottoms weren’t even fancy pyjama bottoms, more akin to half a tracksuit than that of the silk ones Zeus preferred. Hades would never permit anyone to see him in such dress (especially without a shirt). There was quite the chance that it would ruin his image. The God of the Underworld wearing only cotton pyjama bottoms? Of course, that hadn’t stopped Hecate from seeing him in such a state when she barged into his room some mornings and evenings. And Nyx. Erebus had done it once too. Actually, thinking about it, so had Thanatos. As long as it was only Underworld civilians, then Hades supposed (an emphasis on ‘supposed’) it was… fine.
He'd scooped his phone up from his bedside as he headed to his en suite, meaning to check for the daily morning list of things to do Hecate would send him. That was there, as expected, but he paused with his other hand on the door handle as he saw another message, and he smiled.
**Persephone:** Good morning! Can’t wait to meet up today xx
Ah, yes, of course. Hades snuck a glance towards Cerberus, all three heads looking at him eagerly. Today was the day Hades and Persephone had arranged to take the overly excited dog for a walk. As Hades pushed open the door, he tapped out a reply.
**Hades:** Good morning.
**Persephone** : Ah, you’re up late! Lazy bones xx
**Hades:** I apologise. I am about to shower now.
**Persephone:** Oh really? How exciting xx
Hades frowned down at his phone as he pulled on the light switch, and then the one for the shower. He quickly told Persephone he’d be right back, so he could shower, and once he was done, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he informed her he was almost ready.
**Persephone:** I’ll be at the park. See you soon! xx
**Hades:** I have something to inquire. What do the ‘X’s mean?
**Persephone:** They’re kisses, silly. It means I like you.
**Hades:** Ah. I see. Meet you at the park.
In fact, he didn’t really see at all. Still, he paused and typed out another quick message.
**Hades:** xx
Once he was dressed, he coaxed Cerberus to follow, and Cerberus bounded after him. Down the corridor, Hecate was approaching, her usual clip board in her hands.
“Are you heading somewhere?” she asked, tapping a long nail against her clip board as she chewed her usual gum.
Hades waved a hand at Cerberus to get him to stand down, then said, “I am going out with Persephone and Cerberus for a… for an W word.”
“Oh, yes, your date!” Hecate said, grinning wickedly. “I suppose, as the Underworld’s best secretary, I will have to do all the work today.”
“You are the Underworld’s only secretary,” Hades said, and she shushed him as she put a finer to his lips.
“I will have to do all the work today,” she repeated, and she blew a black bubble at his face. “I’ll pick everything up whilst you slack off.”
“I am not slacking off,” he insisted as he pushed her hand away. “I am permitted a day off.”
“Oh?” she raised a slender eyebrow. “Well, you’ve been doing plenty of slacking off lately. Almost every day.”
“It is not almost every day,” Hades replied, nudging Hecate aside so he could walk past. “Besides, I do my work in the evenings when I am available. It shouldn’t bother you when I do my work, as long as I do it.”
“That’s not what the judges say,” Hecate sang as she instead crouched down so she could scratch Cerberus under all three chins. Even when he licked her, her hair stayed dead straight. “Enjoy your date.”
Hades sighed. “It is not a date.”
#
Kuon Park was, surprisingly, the dog park. It quite literally translated to ‘dog park’, though there had been some chatter about potentially changing the name. Just as those in the West would use the term for a female dog to belittle a female, people were getting in the habit of using ‘kuon’ as the same. Unfortunate, really, for Hades quite liked the ancient words.
There wasn’t really anything special about the park itself. There were walls and gates to keep the dogs from running away. A few climbing frames for bored children to play on. The old, desperately in need of repair, ice cream truck in one corner, and the newer more popular one (that did not sell as good ice cream) in the other.
Then, of course, there was the shrine in the centre dedicated to Hecate. For some reason, the people liked to associate dogs with her. Hecate had snickered when Hades had informed her of the shrine. She hadn’t been to the park herself; Hades could barely remember when she last left the Underworld. | ac6d3cfc000847f091db1e584923698a | ['cabf25109f7d4e1097f56641f082dca5'] | > Total headcanon that neither Reaper nor Sombra can cook so Widowmaker has to do it all the time, but she's not great either. The one thing Reaper misses about Overwatch was Ana was obviously a fantastic cook and he and Soldier always wolfed down her food.
2. Pranks
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which Sombra tries to prank Reaper and Widowmaker, and obviously they try to prank her back to a degree of success.
It was another morning in the Talon household, and Reaper was only just waking up. He wasn't a typical morning person, but didn't particularly sleep in; he was somewhat between the two. With a yawn, he opened his eyes,messy to start a new day doing whatever task he was delegated, when he came face to face with a freakishly oversized tarantula. With a yell he threw back his covers and leapt from his bed, glaring down at the monster that had invaded his room.
"Widowmaker!"
Widowmaker, already showered and fully dressed because she was quite the morning person, stuck her head out of her own room. "Oui?"
Reaper held out a hand, presenting a squashed and unmoving tarantula. "Care to explain why there was a tarantula in my bed this morning?"
"Why would I know?" she asked dryly.
"It's a spider."
"Amazing observation skills. No wonder why you're one of Talon's best."
"You're a spider."
Widowmaker snorted. "Gabriel, I will have to retract my previous statement. Your observation skills are terrible, no wonder why you're one of Talon's worst."
With that she slammed her door shut and refused to come out for the rest of the day. In the meantime a howl of laughter was coming from Sombra's room, and Reaper found himself to be crushing the already dead spider even more.
"Sombra!"
Sombra stuck her head out of her own bed room, flashing Reaper a wicked grin. "Problem, Reapy?"
"Where the hell did you get a spider from?" he growled at her.
"The best Talon agents know how to keep their secrets," Sombra replied. "If you and Amelie managed to shut up once in a while, maybe you would be as good as me."
Reaper threw the spider corpse at her face, but she managed to close her door just in time, so it missed her.
#
Another day, another morning. In fact it was actually the next day, and this time it was Widowmaker waking up. The day before had Ben nothing but rows between Sombra and Reaper (so, nothing different, really) and Widowmaker was hoping (knowing it as futile) that today would be less angsty.
As soon as she saw the skull on her pillow, she knew that as most certainly not going to be the case.
With a shrill shriek, she leapt from her bed. Once the initial shock was over she swiped up the skull and stormed out of her room. The only other person outside in the hallway was Reaper, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Amelie, some of us aren't morning people like you, stop screaming," he grumbled, and was about to return to his own room when he found the skull colliding with his face. "What was that for?!"
"Because you're the only one here for me to take my anger out on! Plus it's a skull."
"If you dare say I'm a skull I'm going to throw this skull back in your face so hard it's going to speed up your heart beat so fast you'll no longer be blue!"
Widowmaker frowned at him. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"
There was yet again another howl from Sombra's room, and Reaper stormed over, slamming his fists against the door. This time she was rather wide in choosing not to actually open it.
"Sombra! Where the hell did you get a skull from?"
"I told you yesterday the best Talon agents know how to keep there secrets!" There was a pause, then a giggle, then a mutter of, "Besides, it's not even real."
There were shouts and screams of annoyance from both Reaper and Widowmaker as they skulked back to their own rooms.
#
"We didn't think this through."
"Of course we didn't think this through, we're not pranksters, Gabriel."
Reaper and Widowmaker were both stood outside Sombra's room in the dead of night, both holding a can of shaving foam. Neither fancied themselves as being creative, and they hadn't had time to go out shopping for anything spectacular, so they had raided Reaper's cupboard and found spare cans of shaving foam that Reaper had once bought a while ago since they'd been on offer. Since he didn't tend to shave all to often, especially since his face was hidden behind a mask most of the time, they were still sitting around doing nothing.
The one problem with trying to prank Sombra was the fact the little sneak had installed a lock on her door (which brought into question why the other two hadn't been smart enough to do that themselves).
Summoning a shotgun in his hand, Reaper said, "Let's shoot the lock off."
"We can't shoot the lock off," Widowmaker hissed. "She'll hear it and wake up and the plan will be over."
"Have you got a better idea?" Reaper asked as he aimed at the lock.
Widowmaker hissed back at him and fought to move the gun away. There was a squabble and lots of stage whisper-esque arguing, followed by a loud bang and a scream.
From inside her room Sombra woke up and stared at her bedroom door, as she heard Widowmaker screech that Reaper was an idiot. Not particularly bothered by what the pair were up to in the middle of the night, she shrugged and went back to sleep.
#
The next morning, when Sombra headed downstairs to the kitchen, she found Widowmaker angrily making a cup of tea, and a Reaper sat down with his foot up and bandaged. |
72bd0d111cb241cd8737035b8d6666c1 | ['cb076bb0f5db400cb66c0245380d1a7d'] | Lan had the urge to just throw the flowers at Dark Protoman and make a run for it, but couldn't bring himself to. Then, a voice spoke. It sounded like a voice inside his head telling him to say his vows and what not, but he didn't even speak. Dark Protoman was getting a little impatient "Come on. Speak, will ya?" He growled. Lan shook his head, with it soon being hard to breathe for him. This was all too confusing and sudden. He didn't even know what to do at a wedding. Dark rolled his eyes "Let's just skip this whole 'vow' part.... or just... skip to the I do part". Lan couldn't do anything about this. There was no backing down. There was a small silence, apart from a voice in Lans head before Dark Protoman spoke the two words that would change both their lives forever;
"I do."
Lan looked somewhat mortified, with a voice telling him the usual thing you'd be told idk I haven't been to a wedding since I was 4- Anywho, he went to reply with 'I don't' but the words 'I do' slipped out of his mouth. 'N-no.... I didn't say that at all!' He began to tear up a little 'I don't want to marry him....' but his tears weren't enough to make Dark Proto feel any sympathy for the boy as they soon kissed, or rather.... 'French kissed', as there was quite a bit of tongue action, at least from DP. The two parted their kiss, with Lan trying his best to run away. Of course, Dark Protoman grabbed his arm and refused to let him leave. "Do you think that you'd get away that easily~" He chuckled, tightening his grip. Lan shook his head "No, but....". "So, why run from me when you know you can't?" He pulled the smaller boy into a hug, which wasn't returned nor declined. "I-I don't know.... I just wanna go home..." Lan started to cry out loud, feeling homesick "I don't like it here.... i-i just..." He then felt gentle fingers stroking his hair, with his loud crying ceasing. "There, there, sweetheart..." Dark Protoman cooed, planting a small little kiss on Lans forehead "This is your home now....".
"I d-dont want to live here forever...." He whimpered, trying to back away from his 'husband'. "Look, sweetie.... I promise to treat you right..." Dark gave Lan a warm smile, which wasn't returned at all, but that didn't stop him from picking Lan up in a bridal style and bringing him over to a small table. He placed him down on a chair, infront of a large wedding cake. Of course, there where other foods, but Lan was more focused on the cake. After hearing Dark Protoman clap his hands, he watched as the area filled with shadows of all different shapes and sizes. "We'll be cutting the cake later, so for now, feel free to eat whatever you wish to." Dark Protoman eventually sat next to Lan, with the small boy trying to move away. "You know that we're going to cuddle later, right?" He said, noticing Lans uneasy expression. "Right...." Lan sighs.
"Come on.... lighten up, Will ya?" DP pat him on the back, unusually gentle "I'll treat you better than Protoman ever could!". "I doubt it..." Lan mumbled, hoping that it wasn't heard.... which it wasn't? Instead, Dark Protoman had got two plates, one for the both of them, with Lan only staring at his. "What're you waiting for?" The larger male asked, placing a bit of food onto his own plate "I'm sure that you'd be shoving all this food down your gullet by now.... unless you're not hungry?" Lan shook his head, with his stomach grumbling. "There's probably some sort of poison in it" He growled quietly, but this time it was heard. "What kind of person do you take me for?" Dark looked rather shocked "I'm trying my hardest to treat you right and you're accusing me of putting poison in your food!?" With Lan just nodding at the statement, but being picked up and taken somewhere. The wedding wasn't even over and Dark Protoman had brought Lan to his- no their room. The room was just as dark as the rest of the place, including the bed. He felt a somewhat wave of anxiety overcome him as he was carefully placed down on the bed, his face quickly being peppered with small, soft kisses.
"Please just let me go home.... I'll do anything...." He whimpered, trying to wiggle away, but the kisses just made him powerless from how much he actually enjoyed them. "Anything won't cut it, sweetie~" Dark Protomans kisses soon spreaded to Lans neck, finding the hickey that Protoman gave him(at least I think-) "Hmm? What's this?" He gently traced his finger along the hickey "Did pretty boy give you this before you.... cheated?". "S-shut up!" Lan uncontrollably yelled, with him quickly sitting up and going to hit DP, but..... his fist was easily caught and his eyes widened in shock, noticing Dark Protomans slight grin. He knew that this was most likely it for him but all that happened was him being punched. He never even wanted to hit Dark, but he just.... did... he had no control over his body. Lans eye was now bruised, and he was still crying "J-just kill me, you fucking asshole..." He snarled, but the darkloid shook head. | 975d214f9e5d4c62a3c46b6960f4a981 | ['cb076bb0f5db400cb66c0245380d1a7d'] | Lan could only watch as Protoman collapsed to the floor, soon rushing to his side "No! Please! Don't..... don't leave me so soon!" He cried, holding Protoman close. "It's fine..... I mean, it was bound to happen..." Proto smiled, happy he had successfully protected Lan from being killed. "Why didn't you let me die!?" Lan yelled slightly. "Hah.... well, NetNavis can be restored, unlike humans" Protoman began to close his eyes. His deletion was almost exactly like human death, but not completely. "Both of you are pathetic...." Dark Protoman said, Lan looking up at him and growling, but soon noticed a small cube in his hand. "What's that?" Lan asked, pointing to the cube. "The thing that can bring Protoman.... back" He replied, holding it up so everyone else could see "I'll give it to you on one condition....". "And that is?" Lan sounded eager to know, after all, Protoman was his boyfriend. Dark Protoman chuckled before answering with one of the most insane answers they could've heard "....... marry me". "What!? I-I can't!" Lan cried even more, noticing all the data leaving Protomans body "But.... if I don't....". "Lan, it's a clear trap" Proto warned, with Dark Protoman saying otherwise. "But you'll.... you'll be deleted!" Lans cheeks where wet with tears, with the cube held infront of his face. "This is no trap. All you have to do is marry me and I'll save your little boyfriend here~" Dark Protoman smiled. "Okay..... but give me the cube first!" Lan held his hand out for the cube, which was handed to him. "It'll take a while for it to take affect, but in about 5 minutes, he'll visibly heal" Dark Protoman then gestured for Lan to take his hand, which..... he did. The others watched in shock, not knowing what was going on. It was all too much to take in. Eventually, Dark Protoman slipped a ring onto Lans finger, dissapearing with the boy somewhere on the net, perhaps never to be seen again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Wow! That..... didn't actually take as long as I thought. Sorry this was a bit short n boring, but I don't have any ideas anyone will be okay with so oof.
>
> The next chapter contains smut and don't worry, Dark Protoman will return later on in the story, even though the next will see Protoman saving Lan(sorry for the spoilers lmao). Added the forced marriage tag for the next chapter btw.
>
> *yeets out*
6. 'Darkness'
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I don't know how to sum the chapter up other than smut, abuse and the fact this is the only other chapter that DP is in for now, until later chapters
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Forgot Lan was in certain clothes at certain times in both this and the previous chapter so forgive me
[SMUT/ABUSE/FORCED MARRIAGE WARNING]
Lan looked around at his new home, the colours mainly being dark purple. He was actually terrified of what was going to happen to him, with his hand being tightly held by Dark Protoman. "So, do you like it~?" The darkloid asked, showing him around more, with Lan shaking his head no. "Why not?" He asked in a somewhat seductive tone "You'll get used to it, I promise....". "Used to it!? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lan growled, trying to run off, But his arm was grabbed as he got slammed onto the ground. "I recommend you don't run away or else I'll have to.... punish you..." Dark Protoman snarled, looking down at Lan, only to walk off "Come on, we can't keep our guests waiting". "..... guests?" Lan got up, confused "How the fu-" he was cut off by his mouth being covered and dragged into Darkness. When the boy awoke, he found himself sitting in a chair, and wearing a nice, long wedding dress. He no longer had his bandana on, with his hair being neatly brushed. "Where am I?" Lan said to himself, getting up and looking in a nearby mirror "Jesus..... what's happened to me?" He placed a hand on his face and- lucky for him- there was no makeup "Why am I in a dress?" He then noticed the ring.... the ring that changed the course of his life forever. The ring was just black, a dark purple crystal in the middle of it.
He of course didn't like this one bit, trying to find somewhere to escape from. There was of course nowhere to leave, other than a door that was locked. Soon, a shadow appeared next to him that looked unusually like Dark Protoman. The doors soon opened, blinding Lan with a bright light as he was escorted down some sort of hallway. The usual wedding music played as Lan was then forced to hold a bouquet of flowers, with his eyesight returning to normal. There, he could see multiple shadows watching, with Dark Protoman waiting for him. Lan accidentally tripped on his dress, instantly faceplanting. Dark Protoman ran over and went to see if he was alright. "Lan! Are you okay!?" Darks voice sounded unusually concerned, but Lan didn't buy it. "I'm fine," Lan growled, getting back up "I don't need help from the likes of you!". Dark Protoman just made his way back to the pedestal thing, watching as Lan was forced to walk closer until the two where face to face with eachother. |
88ab001987464fe2abb403b0404139d3 | ['cb1635fe724d44679309dad4e7768aa7'] |
1. i'm frightened by the devil and i'm drawn to those ones that ain't
**Author's Note:**
> Hi, Riverdale! I wanted to write porn and I ended up writing a whole ass character study incorporating my two obsessions, Riverdale & CAOS. This is Sweet Pea focused but Jughead is important in too I guess lolz. The ship is pretty light and it's more about Sweet Pea and his double life but I do love that rare pair and I'll probably write filth about them at some point. If you read and enjoy, comments and kudos are always nice <3 I'll post the second chapter either tomorrow or Monday (the second chapter is a little longer).
>
> **
>
> Notes:
>
> Sweet Pea’s Dad - Jun Zhào - emigrated from his village in the mountains of Zhangjiajie (China). He is of Tuija descendant (Tuija are a community from this part of China)
>
> Sweet Pea’s real name - I went for Alex. He doesn’t use this name usually
>
> Sabrina crossover/info: You don’t *have* to have seen it for it to make sense, but it helps
>
> There are some flashback scenes to explain certain things but it will mostly be in present day from Sweet Pea’s POV. I’m also loosely basing it around the time of Riverdale S2 as Penny/Ghoulies are the main villains however I’m chopping and changing it a little
>
> Languages: A little Latin for spells (translations provided at the end of the fic but you don’t *need* to know to get the idea)
> One line of Spanish (“odio gringos” = I hate gringos)
> Chinese Mandarin: Bàba = Chinese name for Dad, Nanwu = male witch/warlock/sorcerer
**
_ 1983, Zhangjiajie, Hunan, China _
There’s nothing quite as captivating as the pillar like trees, as tall as Gods, looming over the valleys and streams beneath them. It’s with a heavy heart and tears in his eyes that Jun leaves, feet light on the rocks of the streams, water splashing furiously past as he makes his escape. It’s now or never and Jun chooses now, before anyone can choose for him.
America is calling but Hunan will never be silenced.
**
_ 2009, Riverdale, America _
Alex giggled , comfortably lying on his bedroom floor, carpet filthy from his muddy morning yet it’s _ this _ that’s captured his attention far more than worms or soil.
His crayons can fly.
Wide-eyed and laughing, the eight year old watched as his colouring pencils floated above him in an uneven circle. He didn’t hear the twist of his bedroom door knob, only aware of his Father’s presence when Jun forced the crayons to fall on his son’s chest.
“Dad!” Alex frowned, sitting up with irritation, “I made them _ fly. _ ”
Jun swallowed nervously. Most parents dread The Talk but most parents don’t have this particular talk to worry about. It didn’t help that Leslie knew nothing about his past and therefore nothing about her son’s _ abilities _ . Jun was a simple immigrant, nothing of note in his life bar a Chinese passport and some memories he left behind in Hunan. He’d kept that lie alive for decades and he’d die with it.
Mortal life was better, simpler.
“Ok, son,” he sighed, “let’s have a little chat, just us boys.”
He'd hoped to leave it behind. It was impossible in the mountains but in the American suburbs, it made sense, long days spent in the pharmacy and long evenings in the garden, watching Alex toddle and Leslie paint. Life was like a dream, in the way dreams really are; not perfect, but cosy. He hid the marks that appeared on his skin like veins, messages from his old life, Aunties calling him home but it was worth it.
It was an easy secret at first. Alex liked the idea of keeping something hidden from Mom; a special, strange gift he could share with his Dad alone. Jun came to like it, too, in the way you might love a pet tarantula, both fascinated by it but always aware it could have terrible consequences. He couldn’t deny that seeing his son develop in the same way he did as a boy, in the same way Alex’s ancestors did, wasn’t a beautiful thing to see but as years rolled on and his inquisitive son became ever more curious, being the only one privy to his otherworldly growth was frustrating for them both.
That’s when they often crossed the roads into Greendale.
It was no coincidence Jan found himself on the edge of a magical town, just out of eye sight but close enough to hear the sound of the other paths mortals never get to see. Riverdale’s residents stayed clear of their neighbours but for Jun, Greendale was a lifeline. On many fishing trips and forest treks - according to his wife - he’d take Alex to visit friends and friends of friends, watching fondly as his boy learnt spells and tricks from his witchy peers.
“Remember, Mama can’t know,” he’d say sadly on their way home, “she isn’t like us. It could scare her.”
Alex was good at that. Even as a youngster he knew the less people knew about him, the better.
Perhaps, as wise as he was, Jun should have anticipated nothing as good as what he had - what they had - could last. Surely an elder or a previous life could have warned him of what was to come but maybe the simple happiness of a kind wife, a healthy child, a small, cosy home overshadowed one’s predictive senses.
He’d ran from the dark forces of below, waded through rural Chinese rivers to be splattered down by a 1940 Cadillac. | 23af0c42a43a4e8984e2631a7221adc9 | ['cb1635fe724d44679309dad4e7768aa7'] | “Look, Pea, you’re a good kid, you’re a good fighter,” he shrugs, “but you can’t take on Penny’s smarts or the Ghoulies. They outnumber us. A real winner doesn’t win every fight, ok?”
“Listen, FP - ”
“ - no, you listen to me. I’m the leader. I make the rules. We lose this time. But we’ll win eventually.”
“Dad,” Jughead yells, annoyed, “will you just for once listen? Sweet Pea’s not - he’s…,”
Sweet Pea looks for the nearest item he could move, a plant he could perhaps shrivel, or bring back to life, a bottle of whisky he could make float, or smash with his eyes.
“I can take care of them, FP. I swear. I have - I’ll show you,” he stutters, now realizing perhaps a little smoke wasn’t the hottest take, mind a little slow and muddled and FP has had enough, making way to barge past them.
“ _ Dad _ ,” Jughead insists, tugging on him, all fury and frustration as FP ignores him, the older serpent shoving his son so that Jughead falls back on his heels slightly, before grabbing his jaw.
“Stay out of my business,” FP growls, Jughead scratching at his grip, gasping in obvious pain as FP holds him tightly and Sweet Pea feels the darkness descend, blind righteous anger at the violence, how this stubborn old man always resorts to the worst possible option he can choose, manifesting with fire before FP drops Jughead like he’s been burnt, crying out in pain as his arm twists unnaturally. He drops to his knees and Sweet Pea can’t hear his agonized cries, barely registers Jughead hitting his chest and screaming at him to _ stop _ because he could break every useless bone in FP Jones’s body if he wanted to, he could burn his eyes out -
“Sweet Pea, please!”
His vision sharpens, soul back in his body after it temporarily lifts and ascends, he’s never sure where, the power outside of him and using his physicality to weld itself and with that he drops FP from the grip he’s controlling, an unmistakable feeling of invincibility making him smirk as he looks at his leader, crunched over and whimpering. It feels like hours they stand and stare at him, Sweet Pea vindicated and Jughead torn between loyalties, but it’s not. FP twists, wary, confused as he glances up at them.
He doesn’t know what to say, what to ask, Sweet Pea can feel the shock and bewilderment dripping off him like summertime sweat, and it’s tinged with a little fear.
“You,” FP begins, eyes finding the shitty alarm clock on their kitchen side, their time running out, “you, what? Special, huh?”
It’s not an easy life being torn in two, living abridge two worlds, as exciting as mortals think it is in their stories and their films yet it’s undeniable as FP sits curled up on his kitchen floor, face still twitching from aftershocks of pain in his arm, that there’s another world in the Jones’s trailer. Riverdale folk know all too well the witchy tales of Greendale but it’s a long running joke, a scary story to stop your kids roaming too far, entirely different from being faced with the concept of another reality existing.
“It’s why my Mom brought me to you,” Sweet Pea says, “she doesn’t know, and I - after my Dad - I wasn’t in control.”
FP looks at Jughead with wounded eyes.
“You involved in this, Jug?”
Jughead shrugs, hair bouncy in a nearly comical way. He looks smaller without his jacket, still tall, but it’s easy to see his slender frame. Sweet Pea bites back another surge of anger at that, because FP is broad and strong and he still used that against his _ son _ .
“What you gonna do, then, huh? Turn the Ghoulies into frogs?”
Sweet Pea smiles at that. It’s not an unpleasant thought; Penny and her greasy new gang hopping about, slimy and silenced.
“Nothing to do with Frogs, Boss,” Sweet Pea murmurs, “we’re using snakes.”
**
Once he’s on his feet, still scowling at his arm and by default, Sweet Pea, FP doesn’t ask much. He isn’t going to fight them tagging along to Ghoulie headquarters, both Jug and Sweet Pea sighing with relief when FP confirmed that’s where he’s due to meet Peabody herself and whatever unlucky lackies are lying around the Ghoulies creepy home. He isn’t convinced, face as miserable as sin as they walk in silence, but if he’s honest, neither is Sweet Pea. It’s a complicated ritual and a community wide hex. Regardless of the potency of the poison and Ambrose’s careful, educated teachings over the past few days it’s still Sweet Pea, a student of himself, fumbling through a curse with two extremely murderable mortals for back up.
Sweet Pea pulls his jacket tight around his waist, as if it can hide him. FP has lost some of the swagger, dragging his feet alongside the boys and when Sweet Pea risks a look in his direction his face is stony, eyes focused on the road. The Ghoulies keep to the backstreets of the South Side where buildings rise high and the stench of littered liquor bottles and dog shits makes you choke as it hits the back of your throat.
Sweet Pea’s not used to luxury but his Ma’s apartment is practically a North Side paradise in comparison to the bleak streets the Ghoulies roam around. |
b88652c9bf604f758661ee8721b94ed1 | ['cb28441afe2c4722b326d744f7789617'] | ______“Shut up,” John manages. He pushes Sherlock down again and Sherlock obediently opens up his mouth and proceeds to thoroughly wet the cotton, his fingers digging into John’s thighs. He kisses the just visible head of John’s cock and things are just getting interesting, when there’s an all too familiar buzzing from the table._ _ _ _ _ _
______Sherlock pulls away immediately, his eyes glazing over with excitement._ _ _ _ _ _
______“Oh no—“ John says, with genuine alarm. “See here, I’m sure it can wait 5 minutes--“_ _ _ _ _ _
______Sherlock gives him an annoyed look. “But JOHN,” he exclaims, the capital letters ear-shatteringly clear. “There’s a CASE.”_ _ _ _ _ _
______………………………….._ _ _ _ _ _
______10 minutes and one very short wank later, they’re on their way and Sherlock is going off at a mile a minute about drunk fairies and pink flamingos doing the macarena—or he could be, for all that John is paying attention. For Sherlock, for all his genius, little suspects that John is currently otherwise occupied with plotting the demise of something very dear to the detective. Namely, it is the callous and cold-hearted murder of Sherlock’s 0900 Blackberry._ _ _ _ _ _
______It is, practically speaking, completely irrational for John to be so jealous of an electronic device. But the good thing about living with a mad genius is that John feels entirely justified in being irrational, if only to even the scales._ _ _ _ _ _
______So he settles in and fumes and glares at the bane of his existence, cradled oh-so tenderly in that gloved hand. For if there’s is one thing that Sherlock is entirely devoted to, it is that damn mobile and John would like nothing better than to douse it in kerosene and set it comfortably on the stove. He reckons that Sherlock has set more ridiculous things on that stove anyways—compared to human phalanges, electronics should be little challenge to that long-suffering appliance._ _ _ _ _ _
______Of course, Sherlock will no doubt just end up with an even MORE updated variation of the same device and this time, it might even be the kind that’ll talk to him. John has a very reasonable horror of such an event, as he’s pretty sure that if Sherlock could talk to the mobile as well, he’d end up marrying the thing._ _ _ _ _ _
______Not that John wants to marry Sherlock himself, of course. That seems like a vaguely ridiculous notion for a relationship that has lasted all of two weeks so far and included roughly four sexual encounters, one of which John distinctly remembers as being more of a threesome with the laptop._ _ _ _ _ _
______Hell, Sherlock could probably replace him entirely if he could figure out a way to have sex with his damned gadgets—no, John doesn’t want to think about that, that’s weird._ _ _ _ _ _
______Of course, now that the concept’s been introduced, he then proceeds to spend entirely too MUCH time on how that could be accomplished instead, by which point his jeans are fairly uncomfortable again. He’s not proud of himself for it, but there’s the sad truth—anything involving Sherlock Holmes naked is, for all intents and purposes, a sexual fantasy on par with fucking Catherine Zeta-Jones at this point._ _ _ _ _ _
______And John doesn’t even want to fuck Catherine Zeta-Jones anyways, he just wants to fuck his –Sherlock---his brain still short fuses at “boyfriend”--so the metaphor is a bit of a fail._ _ _ _ _ _
______But he's gone and digressed quite a bit there._ _ _ _ _ _
______The salient points here are that John is still a bit jealous and Sherlock is still a wanker and that that Blackberry is still fucking dead as it sits._ _ _ _ _ _ | 7f342b104350476f846e0e35dad71bb5 | ['cb28441afe2c4722b326d744f7789617'] |
1. The Bet/Dare
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Dedicating this series to nerdymind for creating this bit of awesomeness to begin with.
>
> Originally published on consultingdragoness.tumblr.com, under the tag 'jltropechallenge'. You can also, as many of you have figured out, find me at damesansmerci on AO3, though, fair warning, that corner's rather dark and highly experimental.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Updated the chapter order, since the Bet/Dare is ALSO Army John and Teen Sherlock and would, chronologically, come before Train Station Goodbye. They're all technically stand-alones but a first meeting and a goodbye did seem to fit.
He didn’t know who had told his friends back home about the rumors. Must have been Bill, really, but the entire thing was just shit anyways. ‘Three-continents-Watson’ they called him and all right, yes, there had been that nurse in Afghanistan. And yes, fine, he’d had a bit of a reputation back home. And there had been that trip to America, when he was a good bit younger—
It still wasn’t on, though. Here he was, trying to relax for a night at the local pub…and his own mates were treating him like some sort of pimp.
Well, it was mostly Greg, but neither Molly nor Mike had protested all too much so far.
“Sarah,” Greg said with relish. “She’s been eyeing you all evening. Chat her up then, show us those skills we keep hearing about.”
“He won’t do it,” Molly said. She nervously pushed her drink aside. “It’s silly, why chat someone up if you don’t mean anything by it?
“Course he will,” Greg said. “It’s only a bit of fun. Just seeing if that thing about all the girls loving a soldier, is true.” He winked at John. “Is it Johnny?”
“I don’t think that’s the quote,” John muttered. His good-nature had survived for the first bout of teasing, but after it had continued for the better part of an hour… He tilted the rest of his pint into his mouth and looked morosely at the now-empty glass. He missed his rough cot and the excitement and—
God, look at him. Home for two weeks and he was already pining for war, of all the damned things. There was something wrong with him, for sure.
“Aw, leave him alone,” Mike Stamford said. “You got nothing better to do, Greg?” John smiled at him gratefully.
“Hey now,” Greg said, holding up his hands. “I don’t mean anything by it, you know that. I just hear you’re quite—good—at what you do. Thought I might pick up some pointers, see if it’s all just talk—“
“He IS,” Molly said. They all turned to stare at her and she blushed, a dull, mottled red spreading across her fair skin. “I mean—not that I know—Oh, I didn’t mean—I just bet you are, is all,” she said. “And if you want to talk to Sarah, you—you go right ahead, just don’t let this one—“ she paused to glare at Greg. “Don’t let him—“
“It’s all right Molly,” John said. Her effusiveness was as suffocating as it was heart-warming—Christ, there he went again. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this? Enjoy having all his friends about him, for once, enjoy his leave—
“She’s not interested anyways,” a voice said behind him. Deep, raspy even. John tilted his head up to see a tall brunette in an absurdly tight t-shirt staring icily down at him.
“Hello, soldier,” he said slowly, as if savoring the taste of the words on his tongue. “Was it Afghanistan or Iraq?”
“How’d you..?” John gaped blankly up at the stranger. He whirled on Greg. “Did you tell him?”
“Nah,” Greg said. He tilted his glass at the boy, who was still just standing there, how awkward could he be—
“That’s Sherlock, he’s really good at that sort of thing. Knowing, I mean,” Molly piped up. ‘Sherlock’—of all the poncy names, really— pivoted like he was mired in taffy, his gaze drifting to her, and the blush that had barely faded from her cheeks rose up again almost immediately.
“I mean—“ she started. “He just knows—“
“It was the tan, of course,” Sherlock said. He dropped his gaze pointedly to John’s wrist. “You can see by his bearing he’s in the military. Tanned hands, but his uniform covers the wrist, so where in the military does one get such a tan these days?” He nodded at John. “Afghanistan… or Iraq?”
“Fucking brilliant!” John said. He turned back to his table. “Did you all see that?”
“All the bloody time, mate,” Greg said. “Meet Sherlock Holmes, boy genius.“ He looked at Sherlock and smiled. “Never seen him speechless before, so there’s a new one.”
Sure enough, Sherlock looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I—- did you mean that?” he asked John.
It occurred to John that genius or not, Sherlock was far younger than he’d initially assumed. His aloofness, and height and those awful clothes—torn jeans, worn old tee, had made John think… But now he looked a bit softer, shy, awkward, almost, and John noticed that his clothes hung off of him like they didn’t quite fit.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling gently. “Yeah, of course I did. It was amazing.” Sherlock locked eyes with him and John saw that he was blushing, just faintly, and it was, quite frankly, one of the most endearing things John had ever seen.
“John Watson,” he said, holding out a hand. “Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, stationed in Afghanistan.” Sherlock took it.
“John,” he said, inclining his head ever so slightly.
“Take a seat,” Mike interrupted. He gestured at the place between him and John.
“I was just leaving,” Sherlock said, instantly dropping John’s hand. Molly’s face fell, a little, and John was seized suddenly by the urge to make this queer creature stay—for her sake, of course, anyone could see she’d taken a fancy to him—
“No, come on, it’s barely 9 pm and you’ve got to be on holiday,” John said. “You’re what—still in secondary? Just graduated?” |
5cf162b80d664888bfa37e9260d57a33 | ['cb351994f44e4f47a782158ead83c553'] | He coaxed his limbs into working order as he stood. They both got ready for the day, Matthias having been nearly finished by the time Sindre’s alarm blared (how he didn’t stir when Matthias got up would forever remain a mystery). Sindre successfully tied Matthias’ tie with barely-shaking hands - at least, he hoped Matthias didn’t notice their shaking. His breath only hitched in his chest when he smoothed his hand down the tie, very aware of the feeling of Matthias’ chest and abdomen, wiping away any wrinkles, “there, all finished,” he said and stepped away. How domestic. The butterflies in his gut roared to life, threatening to crawl up his throat. He chewed on his bottom lip to keep them at bay.
The new day had brought stormy weather. Sindre glanced through the curtains of the hotel room and shivered at the onslaught of rain, turning the snow on the sides of the roads to freezing slush. The early morning sky was dark with heavy clouds.
Sindre and Matthias were served a simple breakfast as they sat down to the first round of dry presentations from various key companies; it was bad enough that seemingly all the presenters for the morning had chosen to dim the lights and use projectors so early in the day, but the topics of discussion were, in Sindre’s professional opinion, weak at best. He was not getting anything out of this. Matthias, however, was surprisingly engaged as he took notes by hand, writing furiously with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Sindre resisted the urge to continuously stare at him - to marvel his easy eagerness, he told himself, and not because he was admiring at the handsome angles of his face. He was so new to this kind of work and still had his enthusiasm. A few years of attending the same sort of conference and he’d likely lose his zeal.
By the time a break was called, Sindre was half asleep again. During any function that promoted mingling and networking, as a general rule, he avoided coffee. Nobody liked to get close and discuss business with someone who had coffee breath. Thus, he was restricted to sipping on bland tea throughout the morning which did not pack the punch that he needed to stay focused.
The second half of presentations were just as dull as the first, and when lunchtime rolled around, Sindre was dangerously close to breaking his ‘No Coffee’ policy.
“Hey, Nor,” Matthias leaned on his elbow, turning to face Sindre, “wanna go grab lunch somewhere? I just need to get out of the hotel for a bit.” Sindre blinked at him. This was exactly what he had feared when his boss announced that he’d be going with Matthias, of all the people in their company, to this conference. Looking around their immediate vicinity, there were no faces familiar enough to invite along with them. Going out for lunch with Matthias _alone_ felt a little too non-work-related, despite the fact there were here for work reasons…this didn’t seem to matter in his reeling mind. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can always go grab something by myself. I just-”
“No!” Sindre gasped, realizing he’d almost waited too long to think up some sort of response, “no, that’s fine, we can go.” He stood and gathered his things, trying not to feel like an awkward teenager at the prospect of _dining out_ with the _object of his affections_. Matthias’ face, having darkened to show concern a moment ago, brightened again with a wide smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and he made a happy noise somewhere in the back of his throat. Sindre’s stomach flipped. “Where - what do you want to eat?”
“Oh gosh, I dunno. How much time do we have? An hour? Let’s just wander down the street and see what we can find.” He suggested this so easily, like there was no doubt in his mind they’d eventually find food. Sindre would not consider himself to be a spontaneous person, he functioned much better within some sort of structure, but he felt himself nodding at this proposal and he stepped away from the table, waiting for Matthias to follow.
They had both failed to take into account the severity of the weather outside of the hotel.
“We could just eat here, you know,” Sindre suggested as Matthias looked gloomily out of the lobby doors. He laughed.
“Nosense! A little rain never hurt anybody! It’ll be an adventure. Come on!” He reached down and grabbed Sindre’s hand and yanked him out of the building and into the chilly, torrential downpour.
The winter wind was biting and relentless, making it impossible to shield oneself from the freezing rain. They only made it a block away before Matthias pulled them into a coffee shop, soaking wet and laughing. Matthias released Sindre’s hand and pushed his now flattened, wet hair out of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed.
“Isn’t this fun?” he cried, then turned towards the inside of the shop, observing what sorts of things they might find to eat there.
“No,” Sindre said, shivering. He was smiling, despite himself. It was warm inside, and cozy, the floors dark walnut wood. All the tables and chairs had a reclaimed look to them, but the seats were covered with plush velvet and looked inviting. The menu was written in hand on a giant chalkboard behind a long serving counter with a mahogany-coloured granite top. It smelled like coffee and bran muffins and something savory that Sindre couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some jazz music played softly in the background, just loud enough to be heard between lulls in conversation by the dozen other patrons scattered through the establishment. | 23c282d6a5994a8e811cc3c453380823 | ['cb351994f44e4f47a782158ead83c553'] | This could not be happening. He never, even in his wildest dreams, could have anticipated the weekend including this situation. He had spent hours carefully considering every possible outcome, and none of those scenarios involved him wearing rain-dampened clothing in a freezing, stalled elevator, pressed up against Matthias’ chest, whose hands were rubbing his arms with a sort of tender ferocity. He was just being polite, he reminded himself, _friendly_ , even. He was a naturally nice guy, after all, he’d probably try to warm anyone he was trapped in an elevator with. ‘ _Matthias is just being nice_.’ He repeated this to himself, forcing his breaths to come and go evenly, his eyes sliding shut as he concentrated only on getting warm and not whose hands were now rubbing soothing circles into his back.
“Are you concerned?” Matthias asked quietly. Sindre tried to reply, but his attempt only resulted in a gasp as his voice got lost somewhere between his throat and his lips. This crush was getting out of control; Sindre was no longer shivering just from the cold. Matthias still smelled faintly of this morning’s aftershave, but now also of chocolate, reminiscent of lunchtime, and rain water. He couldn’t think of anything to possibly say, so instead leaned against Matthias. He found himself happily pretending that this situation was more than it was, letting himself enter into the land of unrealistic possibilities. Matthias with his arms wrapped around him, but perhaps they were on a couch or, his heart skipped a beat, in bed, warm and cozy.
His eyes flew open as Matthias stopped rubbing his arms and back, and enveloped him in tightly in another embrace, dropping his head down and nuzzling into Sindre’s hair.
“God, you smell so good,” he murmured, voice muffled and breath hot against Sindre’s neck. Sindre wondered if perhaps his heart might stop beating altogether. For all the open flirting Matthias did with everyone, a comment like that still felt strangely intimate, cracking Sindre’s carefully crafted belief that Matthias was simply being friendly. Especially when he pressed in closer, hugging Sindre tighter. Sindre stiffened and Matthias seemed to snap out of whatever possessed him in that moment and he sat straighter, pushing himself away from Sindre a bit, creating cold distance between them.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I just… you’re just so close and I…” They stared at each other in the dim glow of the emergency lighting, Sindre frozen with his heart beating in his throat; he didn’t dare move for fear of shattering the illusion he had created in his mind. Matthias was pulling away and he wanted to cling to him, not only for warmth but also because of the stirring in his chest, that desire to be closer to Matthias which had steadily grown since the day they first met. His breathing was coming fast and shallow. He tried to steady himself, to dismantle the thoughts of simple domesticity he had envisioned only moments ago, to wipe away those pesky emotions and plant himself firmly back in reality. _This_ is why he had thought attending the conference together was a bad idea. Not only was Matthias green at his job, Sindre’s crush was gaining momentum and soon he would be in danger of getting hurt.
They call them _crushes_ for a reason.
“Sindre,” Matthias said his name, not that ridiculous nickname, like he owned it. Sindre had barely just began to convince his heart to return to a normal pace and now it was running away again.
“Matthias,” it came out as a whisper, and before the last syllable was past his lips, Matthias was leaning in and kissing him. Any thought in Sindre’s head was immediately turned to white noise. He felt his breath hitch for what seemed like the millionth time in the span of two minutes. He reached out a hand, shaking, and ran it up Matthias’ arm, his neck, and pressed it to his cheek; his jaw was scratchy with new stubble already growing in. He brushed his thumb against the contour of Matthias’ cheekbone before pushing his hand up into his hair, splaying his fingers. Dammit, this must be a dream or some sort of vivid hallucination. But, Matthias’ mouth moving against his own felt so solid, their breath mingling had a sensation that could only be described as reality.
Matthias was kissing him.
“Oh god, Sindre,” Matthias whined, pulling him closer, his hands wandering their way up and down his back, one of them finding its way into his hair and gripping tightly. “You’re so amazing, you,” whatever he was about to say was swallowed up between them. He tried several times to express himself verbally, failing between quick pecks and longer kisses that had their lips sliding together.
“Idiot,” Sindre breathed into his mouth, “stop talking.” A burst of confidence took him over as he shifted his weight, straddling Matthias’ lap and kissing him deeper.
The chill Sindre had previously felt seemed to have bled away and he now felt only warmth. His skin was tingling. Matthias’ breath was hot against his mouth when they paused, briefly, gasping. They kissed again, fevered and searing and Matthias’ tongue lapped at his lips until they parted, sweeping into his mouth, unapologetic and eager to explore. Matthias leaned into the kiss, bruising and delicious until Sindre was light-headed and he moaned, arching into the hand kneading circles into his hip. He inhaled sharply through his nose.
Matthias broke away, eyes darkened and lips shining in the gloom. He never could cease talking for very long, and he panted, “I have wanted you since the day you yelled at me for breaking your mug.”
“It was a nice mug,” Sindre sulked and Matthias chuckled. The sound chased a shiver down Sindre’s spine.
“It was a cheap mug from a tacky souvenir shop.”
“It was _my_ mug.” |
8f98dc6871444084b39cb436e0490ac5 | ['cb4bdf45b46c4c899d91b3ba09ba7cab'] | Bucky drops into his chair with a grunt and picks up his bottle. The blind guy follows him, and somehow pulls up the one remaining empty chair without needing direction.
"Sit up straight," Bucky tells him as he sits down. "Your mama didn't raise a putz."
Smirking, the blind guy sits up.
"This is Clint," Jessica says, clapping a hand on Clint's shoulder so the blind guy knows who she's talking about. Clint hisses in pain. "I found him in a dumpster."
Bucky snorts. "That's where I found Matt." He jerks his head at the blind guy and opens the Four Roses.
"Technically," says Matt mildly, "it was a recycling bin."
"Po-tay-to," Bucky says, taking a swig and sliding the bottle to Matt. "Po-tah-to." Matt catches the bottle perfectly and takes a more dignified sip. "I know what my plus one's doing here, Jones—what's with yours?"
Jessica shrugs. "I found him in a dumpster. He voluntarily associates with Steve Rogers. I figure he could use some adult supervision. That _is_ your specialty, isn't it?"
"I don't need a babysitter—" Clint begins.
" _Yes, you do_ ," Jessica and Bucky say at the same time.
"So what's with Mister Magoo over here?" Jessica adds, ignoring the affronted look on Clint's face and the horrified one on Bucky's.
"Well, for starters, I'm blind, not deaf," Matt pipes up, voice dripping with false cheer.
"Is that why you're sitting next to an internationally feared assassin and not freaking out?" Clint asks him.
"No, that's the alcohol," Matt replies. "And maybe the concussion." He makes a face. "And he's not as scary as my secretary."
Jessica expects Bucky to complain about that, but the guy just shrugs. "I've seen her argue with people. He's right." He takes another swig. "And as for why he's here, I figured you need to meet him. He goes around hitting assholes with his face, and occasionally his fists."
"Usually the fists," Matt interjects.
"Your face says otherwise."
"Excuse me," Matt retorts. "I jumped out the window of an exploding warehouse. How was _your_ morning?"
"See what I mean?" Bucky asks, and swallows more whiskey. "Plus—tell 'em what you do for a dayjob, Matty."
"I'm a lawyer," Matt says, a bit grudgingly.
"And he got blown up," Bucky continues, "because he was doing a little _investigating_ on one of his cases—"
"Wait." Jessica cuts him off. "Matt? Matt _Murdock_?"
"Guilty," Matt sighs.
Jessica arches an eyebrow at him. "Jeri Hogarth's told me about you. She says you don't suck."
Matt's eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "Seriously?"
"Well, her exact words were, 'He's enough trouble that it's better to settle out of court', but coming from her, that's like—"
"Don Corleone calling you a man of respect. Ha!" Matt sits back in his chair and snorts. "So you're _Jessica_ Jones. I've been trying to find you. My firm needs a PI. Ideally one who can handle," he rolls his eyes, "the interesting cases."
"Like being Daredevil?"
"Never ask a lawyer something like that. I'll talk you into the floor."
"See," Bucky says smugly, and takes another pull. "One of us brings _nice_ gifts to the party."
"I still have no idea why I'm here," Clint complains.
Bucky passes over the bottle.
Clint takes a swig. "But I'm suddenly caring less." He squints at Bucky as he sets the bottle down again. "You know Cap's looking for you, right? Like, tearing the planet apart, while you're sitting here drinking expensive bourbon?"
Bucky gives him his best dead-eyed Winter Soldier stare. "You gonna rat me out?"
"Depends. Can I get a beer?"
Jessica signals for one.
"Aw, beer, yes!" Clint crows as his drink arrives. He holds the bottle out to clink with Bucky. "A toast. To the absolute shittiness of mind control."
Startled, Bucky clinks with him. Jessica sticks her own bottle in. _Chink._
"Great," Matt says dryly. "Am I the only person at this table who's never had an evil asshole steering his brain?"
"Somebody's gotta be the designated driver," Jessica replies.
Matt snorts and starts to laugh. It's surprisingly high-pitched, almost a giggle.
Between the four of them, they polish off a frightening amount of whiskey—although Jessica has to admit that's mostly Bucky, who drinks his Four Roses like it's water. And they talk.
Matt and Bucky turn out to share a passion for boxing. Clint and Bucky swap sniper shop talk. Jessica trades asshole-client stories with Matt and argues about pizza joints with Clint. Matt and Clint compare ridiculous injuries and argue about coffee and dogs. Jessica and Bucky drink and kibitz.
They make lists of dead people the snipers wish they could shoot through the eye (Loki, Kilgrave, Alexander Pierce). They discover that Clint and Matt have been getting patched up by the same overworked ER nurse (somebody named Claire, who's apparently some kind of saint, ninja, or ninja saint, and eventually turns out to be the same woman who helped Jessica with Luke after Kilgrave made him blow up his bar). They agree that Jessica has the most disturbing weirdo-neighbor stories, but Clint has the funniest. They drink some more.
After an hour, things get downright chummy. Matt offers to defend Bucky if he ever gets into legal trouble, either from blowing up Hydra or because of his history. Bucky grudgingly agrees to give Clint a working phone number so they can go to the range sometime, although he sounds more interested in meeting Clint's goofy half-blind dog. Clint suggests he and Matt go to the movies together next time Clint's hearing aids are on the blink—Matt can repeat all the dialogue for him, Clint can describe the images, and they can see how fast they get tossed out. Jessica talks more about Kilgrave than she's done in months; Clint gives her an actual goddamn hug, and it doesn't suck. | 3bee15877ba042d8bb51bbc26e89b00c | ['cb4bdf45b46c4c899d91b3ba09ba7cab'] | They flew on in silence for several minutes while Peggy ran the variables through her head. Nothing made the sum came out right.
Finally, Anna cleared her throat and said, in her careful accent, "I wouldn't harm you, Miss Carter. It would break Edwin's heart."
"What if Leviathan ordered you to?" Peggy asked.
In the backseat, Barnes whimpered faintly at the word.
"If Leviathan comes for me," Anna replied, "it will not be with orders. It will be with a bullet from a great distance."
"Left without a reference, did we?" Peggy muttered.
"They think I am dead," Anna said without taking her eyes off the air in front of them. "No longer."
"You have quite the sense of moment for a dead woman," Peggy said, turning around in her seat and pulling a blanket out of the footwell. She tossed it over Bucky's shoulders. He appeared to be staring through her at the clouds, but his shoulders relaxed a little. Well, the right one did.
"I never planned to blow this cover," Anna replied. "It was necessary. Do you think Edwin will understand?" She sounded worried.
"That depends," Peggy said delicately, "on how much he understands already."
"Nothing," Anna said, almost too quietly to be heard over the rush of the wind outside the car. "My beautiful boy. He understands nothing. He told you we met in Budapest?"
"Yes. The hotel."
"I sold him a tie," Anna agreed. "But really I was selling him myself."
Peggy arched an eyebrow.
"It was his job," Anna explained. "His general. Leviathan wanted access. They selected Edwin as their entry point. They sent me to get him."
"What changed?"
"I did. Edwin, he—he didn't know, of course. He'd never had a woman look twice at him, I think. He tried to do everything men are supposed to do with women. He took me dancing." She smiled dreamily.
"Any good?" Peggy asked.
"Terrible." Anna laughed. "Like a goat with brain damage. But he was so gentle with me, and he enjoyed it so. He was the worst dancer I had ever met, and he danced like Nijinsky. Like it was joy to him. I thought ..." She sighed heavily. "Where I come from, a man would be ashamed of this. Leviathan would kill him for such failure. But Edwin refused to bow to that. He danced, very badly, and he laughed."
"You fell in love," Peggy said.
"I did. And my cover identity was Jewish, and the Germans ..." She shrugged. "I could not tell him not to save me. I laid traps. Failsafes, to make sure no one would come after me. And then I let them think I had died in the escape." She tilted her head. "A lot of Jews did."
"They let you go so easily?" Peggy was incredulous.
"I never said it was easy."
"And what—you sat out the entire war as a refugee? As a _housewife?_ " It was impossible to completely conceal her scorn. She didn't mind most women staying out of combat, but to think what someone like Anna could have meant to the Commandos ...
_She could have saved Bucky. Or Steve._
Anna snorted. "Have you noticed anything unusual about Mister Stark?"
"Where would you like me to begin the list?" Peggy asked dryly, leaving off her painful thoughts.
"With the fact that he is still breathing."
Peggy blinked. She hadn't thought about it before. "Howard never travels with a bodyguard," she said slowly. "He travels with ..."
"Edwin. And _I_ travel with _him_."
" _Howard_ knows? You're his protection?"
"From everything except VD," Anna said, and the scorn in her voice made Peggy laugh heartily.
Laughing at off-color humor, while soaring over Manhattan in a flying car with a catatonic super-soldier in the backseat. Say this for life in the SSR—it was never boring.
"Howard asked Mr. Jarvis once if I'd tried your goulash," she told Anna, having a sudden realization. "Was that a euphemism? Would you have slipped me—I don't know, truth serum, or poison?" She grinned.
"I would never sully my goulash recipe with poison!" the woman retorted, her voice filled with horror. Then she added, "It would be in the wine."
"Good to know you have _some_ standards."
—
Landing the flying car turned out to be considerably more difficult than taking off had been. A city street wouldn't work, for obvious reasons; even though Anna claimed she could easily cut the "gravitic reversors" (damn Howard and his technical doubletalk) and drop the car neatly into an open space in traffic, there weren't that many open spaces in New York City on a busy afternoon. Besides, there was always the possibility they'd give some nearby driver a heart attack.
Peggy looked back at Bucky when he went quiet. He was curled into a ball, face buried in the blanket, shaking.
"Mind the helm," she told Anna, and climbed into the back of the car. "Budge over," she told Bucky, nudging him gently aside, and he curled up enough to allow her to sit beside him. She ran her fingers over his hair and rubbed at his exposed back, feeling him tremble. She was acutely aware of how vulnerable she was at the moment—thousands of feet in the air over Manhattan in one of Howard's famously unreliable experiments. And trapped in an enclosed space with a former Leviathan assassin, however friendly at the moment, and a man having some kind of mental breakdown.
Well, she could trust Anna to fly them straight, probably, since the woman's own survival depended on it. But Bucky was another matter.
Between one moment and the next, Steve appeared, sitting on the other side of his friend and looking panicked half to death. Fantastic. Even her hallucinations were disappointed in her. |
53b8e951b17a4cb3996e9d435b7e64ae | ['cb63d1e852af43f792453047757f5bef'] | broken & alone
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first and probably unbelievably dumb attempt of translating some of my drabbles/ficlets into english, because it was written for a prompt of an english livejournal ficathon.
> So, it maybe sounds kind of strange and maybe english users will laugh out loud, when they read it.
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
>
> **Wordcount:** 227
>
> Written for the LINK Prompt by LINK: _we're under the sheets / and you're killing me / in our house made of paper / your words all over me_
_we're under the sheets / and you're killing me / in our house made of paper / your words all over me_
+
Her fingers firmly cling in the thin, white sheet which covers her body.
The fear within her chest increases in despair and threatens to smother her.
„Why?“, asks Millicent only, with shaking voice and tears in her dark eyes.
Irritated Pansy twists the eyes, while she gets together in a hurry, her clothes which lie everywhere on the ground scattered.
„Why should it go on, Mill? Listen, it was only an adventure with us, okay? Or have you possibly thought, I would have fallen in love with you?“
Pansy looks at Millicent with an icy look, so that she only is quiet and shakes sadly her head.
„You see. Then, nevertheless, everything is cleared.“
And Pansy goes and leaves Millicent behind, broken and alone.
Not till the door has closed to the dormitory, for a long time behind Pansy, Millicent allows to herself to awake from her stiffness.
And sinks in the arms of loneliness, which has already stretched the arms to her.
Pansys words resound loud in her head and crash her little house made of paper, which she has been based so laboriously, down, over and over again.
Stiff, she crouches down in a corner, left, desperate, until she wishes, to not to have to wake up the next day, anymore.
Because Pansy has anyway killed her already.
“You have killed me, Pansy”, she whispers. | 81ed4be33fe64cc6b9da94d194318039 | ['cb63d1e852af43f792453047757f5bef'] |
i want you to stay
**Author's Note:**
> Yeah, I wanted to write something in this fandom and with this pairing for so long.
> And I have to admit, it worked out faster, than I imagined. It's certainly not a masterpiece, but I kinda like it anyway.
> Maybe there's someone out here, who stumbles across this little fic.
>
> Since english isn't my native language, I'm from Germany, I'm always open to corrections regarding my grammar and stuff ... I'm still not 100% sure about that. So if you read this feel free to correct me!
>
> Written for the german fanfiction project LINK
> The song I picked is LINK by Willie Nelson & Shania Twain.
>
> It's mostly inspired by the feeling of the song & a little bit by the lyrics.
>
> Wordcount: 1700
»In the twilight glow i see her
Blue eyes crying in the rain
When we kissed goodbye and parted
I knew we'd never meet again«
Too late!
Sweaty and out of breath he arrives at the Department Of Violent Offenses of Metropolitan Police, bursts into her office and abruptly stops his movement as he catches a glimpse of her empty desk.
Too late! He's come too late!
_NoNoNoNoNo,_ that simply couldn't be true.
In the crucial moment he's come too late - she's gone.
Spontaneously he whirls around, running down the corridor back to the reception.
»Oh, Dr Hill. I hadn't expected you«, the receptionist greets him and looks at him in amazement.
»Carol! I mean DCI Jordan! Do you know where she is?«, he interrupts her quickly, almost stumbling across his own words.
Embarrassed the woman looks at him. »Tony, I shouldn't tell you that. And you know that.«
Tony darts a haunted look at her. »Please! If you know it, then you have to tell me! It's … a matter of life and death. … Well, almost. At least it's a matter of life. Please, you're my only chance to stop her.«
For a moment the receptionist remains silent, while Tony fidges back and forth impatiently in front of the reception desk.
»Okay«, she finally brings herself to say. »But don't you dare, to tell Miss Jordan you got it from me, okay? So, I called her a taxi. I think, it was supposed to take her to the airport.«
»To the airport?!«, Tony exlaimed. Good God, She really wants to get away. Far away. From me.
»Yes. It picked her up about ten minutes before you arrived. You just missed her.«
»Shit!«
This can't be true.
»If you hurry, you might still make it.«
The voice of the receptionist interrupts his thoughts.
She was right.
»Thank you. You helped me very much«, he calls over his shoulder, as he runs out of the door and into the parking lot.
Thankfully, at least this one time, he remembers where he parked his car. Hastily he fishes the car key from his jacket pocket and fumbles with the lock, but his fingers tremble so much, that it slips out of his hand.
»Shit!«, he curses quietly, and when he finally manages to open the car door, he literally throws himself on the driver's seat and sends a silent prayer to heaven, that he will make it in time.
»Please, please, please, dear God, let her be stuck in traffic.«
_Or stopped at the airport. Anything. Please, I need to catch her. I need to be able to stop her._
With screeching tires he leaves the parking lot to the main street and floors the accelerator.
+
Thirty minutes later he rushes through the rain into the parking lot and almost collides with an oncoming car that gets out of his way at the last second. But he doesn't even notice. His thoughts are solely about Carol and the hope that he might come in time.
_That maybe he can stop her from running away, that maybe he can persuade her to stay. To stay with him._
With quick steps he enters the entrance hall of the airport building and looks around, searching for her.
Accompanied by a piercing feeling in his stomach area, the insight that he has no idea where to look for her, hits him like a punch in his face.
Helpless he takes a look at the destination board that's mounted high on the opposite wall and announces the next flights. _Johannesburg._ The next outgoing flight is to Johannesburg. In thirty minutes.
»If I'm lucky, I'll make it«, he murmurs quietly to himself and runs down to hall and to terminal four as fast as he can.
But at the sight of the crowd urging in front of the Check In terminal, his courage is almost leaving him.
Sighing he shakes his head in a helpless gesture, as a blond head of hair comes in his focus.
At first he doesn't believe his eyes, but as he has a closer look, he feels, _he knows,_ that he hasn't been wrong.
_He knows that it's Carol._
Spontaneously he heads towards her, pushing himself through the crowd, murmuring excuses accompanied by regretful glances.
»Carol!«, he calls again and again. »CAROL!«
And then, as he's only a few feet away from her, she turns around.
And her grey eyes look directly into his.
»Tony.«
Her lips form his name, but no sounds comes over her lips.
She looks at him with a mixture of shock and desperation and stops dead in her tracks, while the people around them unwaveringly continue to flow towards their Check - In.
But just as Tony wants to take the opportunity to approach her, Carol whirls around and runs away.
»Carol! Carol, wait!«
+
It takes a few seconds for his legs to respond to the orders of his brain, to run off, but finally he follows her out of the airport and back to the parking lot. |
a13e6f22264c43f791e4746889a72bd3 | ['cb94a9b96ea541f9bfb33287e7543ace'] | 3. Sky Thatcher
Westminster called his little anty name. The houses of parliament, his place of work, were all that could make him feel safe. He stretched on the pavement near the men with the fuckin massive guns and screamed his li’l anty scream, “WHYY?”
George collapsed and pounded the pavement, the clicking of camera phones adding to the chorus of yells that suddenly erupted above him. The yells, the cameras snapping, the crowds, the fear of his li’l anty body being tread on all blended into white noise surrounding him, oppressing upon him the darkness of his reality. He was no longer an ant, he was an angry upper-middle class politician having a bit of a tantrum, frankly, outside parliament before a soft voice penetrated (ooh cheeky use of language there) the din.
“Gideon,” said the soft voice. George didn’t know where the voice was coming from at first before he rolled onto his back and gazed into the clouds above him.
“Maggie?”
The disembodied face of the late great Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher hovered above him in all her ugly, wrinkled, evil glory. Her hair was coiffed shitly upon her head and George admired every crevice of her face. This amazing hallucination which his mind had concocted for him was about to deliver messages from his subconscious, he knew it. And he was ready for that deep shit.
“Yes, Gideon, it’s me. I’m here to help you, Gideon.”
George didn’t need this clarifying. He’d known this all along, since he’d first seen her image. What he needed most now was the gentle yet strong advice of Britain’s greatest leader (no, not Clement Attlee who is the obvious choice, the greatest leader according to complete cunts e.g. Tories).
“My advice to you, George,” she said, “is that he will come to you.” As she had no hands with which to gesture, she waggled her shitly pencilled right eyebrow furiously and George knew immediately what she was trying to convey.
“He loves me,” he whispered, much too quietly for Margaret to hear, but she did. Of course she did. She was in his twatting head.
“Urgh, don’t be gay,” she said. “Didn’t mean it like that you poof.”
“But mistress…” he began to say and then he slowly became aware that the people around him were no longer yelling, they were screaming and crying, their faces pointed skyward at the spot where George envisioned Thatcher. Only he gradually realised that she wasn’t a hallucination. The ordinary folk could see her too. And then her eyes flashed red like book Voldemort and her scales bristled.
“Now, Gideon, for this country is once again mine.” She directed her next words towards those fleeing from her laser gaze. “I shall destroy ‘Great’ Britain like I did the trade unions!” she cackled maniacally, her yellowing incisors exposed to the horrified public and jowls swaying elegantly in the increasingly strong wind.
Gideon, still staring at the sky could only watch as fire reigned down from above. Income under £20,000 a year? Immediately incinerated. No point burdening the health system she was going to get rid of anyway.
“My tyranny failed the first time, but now… NOW I SHALL EXERCISE MY POWER WITH AN IRON FIST.”
And then she exercised her power with a metaphorical iron fist because she didn’t have any hands.
**THE END**
AHHHH, GOT YA THERE, JUST KIDDIN’.
Suddenly, there was the sound of metal paws galloping, but like, in a shit way. Like a race horse off its tits on ket. And then, like a hip, white Ghandi, Jeremy Corbyn emerged from round the corner, upon the back of one of them lions out of Trafalgar Square. He brandished in his left hand a hammer and in his right a sickle (subtle imagery for GCSE analysis. I’m _handing_ this A to you Timothy. Pay attention) with which he slashed and battered fleeing bankers like an angry fishmonger. At the same moment, the reanimated corpse of Clement Attlee rose up from the Thames. Don’t really know why it was in the river like. Maybe it was on holiday there. His left lung slid lovingly from his rib cage like a snake in an open snake enclosure, along with his liver which was more like a disconcerted lizard. He raised his fist in a comradely gesture, but his hand, like, just dropped off because he was dead as fuck. This did not deter him, however and Corbyn came to a stop, feet from Gideon’s writhing, sweaty body. Thatcher stopped laughing immediately and pointed her eyebrows at Jeremy Corbyn.
“Ahhh! Socialism! My biggest weakness!” she cried, her freckled jowls now flapping desperately in the sky like a large bird over Westminster. Immediately, Jeremy Corbyn dropped his communist symbolism and instead brandished finger guns, made of actual fingers. Like, his own fingers. Finger guns. She crumbled like a fresh Jaffa Cake because a Jaffa Cake is a fucking cake not a bastard biscuit so go fuck yourself Lindsay, you know nothing about the culinary arts. Chunks of old tory flesh littered the streets of London and Corbyn tossed his beard, which had grown three feet in length with the sheer power of the socialist revolution, and trundled off to watch the episode of Countdown he had put on series record.
George lay, speechless, staring fruitlessly into the clouds. His vision was blurred and his hearing fuzzy. Suddenly, once again, he heard his name, but this time spoke lovingly, longingly, sexually and, in an instance, he was aware of hands grasping, grabbing him and hoisting him up like a rake does to leaves (shout out to gardeners ayyy) onto his rescuers strong and stable shoulders. Everything faded to black.
**Notes for the Chapter:** | de7c2111472c4464bd554f981b11deb4 | ['cb94a9b96ea541f9bfb33287e7543ace'] |
1. The Adventures of a Coke Ant
**Author's Note:**
> Okay so my pal and I were/are currently very drunk and we plan to continue this exquisite piece of art in future. I hope you like our vision of beauty. This will eventually have several chapters and an excellently arched story line. Enjoy (like Blair enjoyed his majority in the HoC AMIRITE?!)
__
__
Over the five years of the coalition between David and his beloved Nick, making sweet love into the night, lying to Samantha about where he was going, he couldn’t honestly say he’d paid attention to George in that way. George, the man in the shadows who lusted after him privately.
__
One day in November of 2014, George walked into Cameron’s office to find Clegg, perched on the edge of the Prime Minister’s desk, his shirt and trousers disgracefully dishevelled with David standing between his thighs, kissing him passionately as if he was his mildly attractive cousin. George muttered his brusque apologies and stepped backwards through the door, catching the sight of his colleague’s shocked expressions, his heart smashing like a stepped on cactus, water leaking out of every orifice. Even though he’d known about the pair’s shenanigans (e.g. consistent brutal fucking in the PM’s office which seemed to lead to the disappearance of the odd cactus), witnessing it in such a way, with no forewarning, made George face the bitter reality of David’s desires. After that, the next few days were a self-destructive cycle. He jogged down the corridors of Downing Street, passing TRESemmé who looked down the corridor after him, concerned. He pushed the door open into the bathroom and drank feverishly from the tap (due to his dangerous lack of fluids, after all of the leaking) and pulled a bag of **_QUALITY DRUGS™_** from his suit jacket pocket, dumping it all onto the toilet seat before burying his face desperately into the pile of white powder.
__
Now in his final form, an ant, George buried himself into the garden of the House of Commons, his antennae following the sound of some mysterious calling. Except he wasn’t in the Commons garden, he was just desperately pawing at the stone floor.
__
There wasn’t even a Commons garden. He was just off his tits on **_QUALITY DRUGS™_** in a Downing Street bathroom. He stood and stared at his melting face in the mirror and mentally added courgettes to his shopping list. The following weekend was filled with drinking, **_QUALITY DRUGS™_** , some cheeky bum sex (Keith Vaz hit him up with his pal’s number), more **_QUALITY DRUGS™_** and listening to My Chemical Romance BANGERS with a glass of Rosé as he sat crying in his extra-large dishwasher as bits of pasta flew past his vision. Some mince landed on his cheek and he briefly questioned the morality of the meat industry before swiftly taking more **_QUALITY DRUGS™_**.
__
He didn’t hear from David until the following Tuesday after George grew jealous and lamped a 97 year old woman in his constituency surgery after she said how much cheeky bum sex she was having with her boo before proceeding to bare his testicles and exclaim “BOOM!” over her unconscious body. He’d been called into the Prime Minister’s office and was instructed to lock the door behind him before being shoved forcefully against the wall.
__
“What the FUCK are you playing at George?!” yelled David in his posher than strictly necessary voice, his face inches from his Chancellor’s.
__
George stumbled over his words, feeling conflicted with the proximity of his superior. “David, it’s, I, I-”
__
“No, actually I don’t want to hear your damn excuses. You’re off your head!”
__
George was, in fact, coming down from the previous night’s excursion into the land of drug fuelled agony after he’d had a bad trip as a result of his **_SLIGHTLY POORER QUALITY DRUGS™_**. “I’m sorry David. I really am, I just…”
__
David’s face momentarily softened before becoming as hard as George’s tiny erection once again. “Just… just make sure you’re ready for Questions tomorrow George,” he said and reached over him, grasping the door handle. George wished he’d grasp something else. Like his heart (YOU SINFUL INDIVIDUALS I KNOW WHAT YOU WERE THINKING).
__
He left without uttering another syllable.
__
\---
__
The next day, George steeled himself in a mirror inside the Parliament toilets. Dennis Skinner MP shat furiously in a cubicle behind him, shouting northern expletives as yesterday’s vegan sundae dribbled out of him.
__
“Get it together George,” he said as he stared back into his hollow, pale features.
__
He’d thought PMQs had gone well; he’d managed to conceal his state with a couple lines of QUALITY DRUGS in the same cubicle Skinner MP had released his waste for the fish of the wide ocean to happily consume, smelling mildly of decomposing testicles. But oh how he was wrong. All of the news broadcasters were commenting on how peculiar his behaviour was seated beside the Prime Minister in Prime Minister’s Questions the next day. ‘Was Osborne intoxicated?’ Yes he fuckin’ was, but he didn’t want anyone to know that.
__
The Prime Minister wasn’t happy and, once again, he was called into his office.
__
This time, his voice was calm and level as he spoke. “Gideon,” he said, and George’s stomach twisted with lust.
__
“Ouch,” said Gideon. “My stomach is twisting with lust.”
__
David disregarded this and instead said, “Look, I know you saw… us, Nick and I, the other day. Is that why you’ve been behaving the way you have?”
__
He nodded.
__
“Oh,” he sighed, and then, “But why?”
__
George stared aghast, his white ghostly flesh rippling ominously. “You really don’t know?”
__
“Know what?”
__ |
fcc28382588f4f458645d4152d290e1d | ['cb94b8c303d94fb68e4d8c035efc690e'] | Liam takes another sip of the piña colada and pulls his shirt off, thanking every deity when it comes off flawlessly and not getting stuck on his head like normal. Liam was also happy with the fact that it had gotten dark quickly. He wouldn't have to worry about getting that distracted by Zayn's looks if he couldn't see him.
Wading into the water, Liam let's out a soft sigh of content. Zayn follows him and sits with his feet on the steps into the shallow end of the pool after rolling up the legs of his skinny jeans.
After the storm, the air temperature had cooled down, making the water in the pool much warmer than before. Liam took a deep breath and went under and then popped up next to Zayn where he left his drink.
The two of them spent a while in the dark not talking, just drinking, before anyone said anything.
"I can't swim." Liam choked a little on his drink and turned to face Zayn. "I hate the water. I can't swim."
"That explains the thing where you nearly died..." Liam mutters under his breath and instantly regrets it when he hears Zayn's breathing speed up.
"I was leaving. I thought I could maybe get in the water and cool off, but there were too many people so I was trying to get home. I walked past those boys you yelled at and one of them knocked me in. I just kind of sunk."
Liam didn't say anything. He just stared at the outline of Zayn's face in the dark. He takes another sip of his drink, finishing it off.
Zayn heard the empty sound his cup made when he sat it down and passed his cup to Liam. Liam takes it without a second thought and starts drinking it. The ice made him cold, but Zayn must have really spiked the drinks because the alcohol was making him feel warm and kind of fuzzy.
"If I had watched them more though." His voice was almost a whisper. "I could have waited until later to talk to Niall and Harry!"
The two go back to sitting in silence, the only noise was the water whenever Liam moved.
"I have more at my house." Zayn mumbles as Liam finishes his second piña colada.
Liam shakes his head, but then remembers Zayn can't see him. "No thanks, mate. I'm going to drink my guilt away by myself." Liam slowly wades over to the steps and grabs the railing making his way out of the pool.
On one hand he's happy it's dark: Liam doesn't have to worry about getting caught staring at Zayn, but now he can't tell if Zayn is staring at him either.
Buzzed and angry, Liam makes his way to the guard room to grab his things. He stumbles and curses before he laughs to himself and throws the light switch on.
He turns around to find Zayn standing in the doorway, eyes raking over his body. Liam clears his throat and runs his hand through his wet hair. He grabs his towel and quickly dries off before he throws his shirt back on.
"You saved my life and you feel guilty. You've got issues, mate."
Groaning, Liam throws the rest of his things together and takes a step toward Zayn, smiling slightly as he dips his head and moves out of his way.
"You didn't die but you could have and it would have been my fault. So I'm going to drink until I don't remember how much of an ass I was." Liam shoves past Zayn and walks out of the pool. He knows Zayn is following him though, he can hear his feet smacking the wet pavement.
"And you're going to drink with the two that distracted you in the first place?" Liam stops dead in his tracks causing Zayn to run into his back. Liam turns around slowly as Zayn shifts his weight between feet waiting for a response.
"You think drinkin' with the person you almost killed is better?" Liam turns back around, heading toward his grandparents house, the idea of drinking until he passed out was no longer appealing to him.
"Celebrate! Drink with the person you saved?" Liam stops again and this time, he turns around completely, facing Zayn. He doesn't say anything but just admires him under the glowing from the streetlight.
Zayn slightly nods and without waiting for a response, he turns on his heels heading home. Liam follows without another word.
The walk to Zayn's apartment didn't take very long. Neither of the boys talked. Liam listened to the sound of Zayn's bare feet against the warm asphalt. 'Why am I doing this' he wondered, as they walked under a streetlight. Liam admired how Zayn's silhouette lit up under the old light but quickly shook the thought away, blaming the alcohol.
Zayn took his keys out of his back pocket and walked up to a small little apartment. He bounced up the steps as Liam followed cautiously behind. Placing the key in the lock, he fumbled a bit in the dark but was able to open the door eventually, throwing it wide open.
Zayn walked inside assuming Liam would follow. Which he did. Liam quietly closed the door behind him as Zayn threw the lights on, temporarily blinding the both of them.
Liam took a look around. The place was a mess, like it hadn't been cleaned in months. Papers littered almost every surface and there was a bookshelf overflowing with books in one of the corners. The small tv was left playing on mute, some romantic comedy.
The coffee table in the middle of the living room had three books opened on it as well as a sketch pad, a full ashtray and a set of pastels. | dabaa125226a42ab8fe47c1248574ce0 | ['cb94b8c303d94fb68e4d8c035efc690e'] | Liam watches the boys as they go back to rough housing, pushing each other into the pool. A midst all the chaos, the tanned, tattooed boy was cautiously making his way to the shallow end of the pool.
"Liam!" He turns toward the sound of his name being called. Walking toward him were two more guys from the neighborhood. Niall and Harry lived in Liam's grandparent's neighborhood year round. He had grown up with the two and even when Liam left at the end of the summer, they would still keep in touch.
"Hey boys!" Niall, reached up to give him a high five. "New piercings I see, Nialler!"
Niall smiles, the ring in his lip wiggling, as he starts touching the plugs in his ears. "Y'like? M'mum hates it but I'm loving them!"
Harry nods, staring at the purple haired boy. "We've missed you Payno!" His hair had gotten much longer, and Liam noticed that there were two new tattoos along the waistband of his swim trunks.
"New ink, Hazza?"
He nods furiously, reminding Liam of a puppy; he's always full of positive energy.
"I like the little fern leaves. They always bring everyone's attention to my--"
Harry's response is cut short by the sound of Allison's whistle blaring through the pool. Liam turns toward the sound and spots her running toward the pool with the back board.
Liam quickly blows his whistle in response and jumps down from the guard chair and into the pool. There was a body at the bottom of the deep end of the pool and from what he could tell, they weren't moving. It was only about 15 meters to the spot where the person was, but the swim over there took forever. Liam let the guard tube float behind him and as he reached the spot where the person was, he takes a deep breath and sinks into the water.
It's hard to see through the chlorinated water but Liam hits the bottom of the ten foot pool. He gets behind the victim and wraps his left hand under the guys arm, across the front of his chest and then over to his shoulder.
Liam's head is going fuzzy from the pressure and lack of oxygen but he keeps moving. He feeds the rope of the guard tube from his right hand to his left and and pulls up, the two of them reaching the surface quickly.
He slides the tube under the guy's back and starts kicking trying to reach the side of the pool as quickly as possible. He spots Allison waiting at one edge. She's shouting to him.
"I've already called an ambulance." A crowd was forming around them as he pulls the kid to the edge of the pool. Allison grabs the victims hands as Liam quickly gets out of the pool grabbing the backboard.
The two of them quickly position him onto the board, "one, two, three!" They pull him up onto the deck and gently set him down.
Liam quickly grabs his mask out of the pouch and starts checking his pulse, his fingers pressed to his vein. "He's not breathing but I've got a weak pulse." He places the mask over his mouth and nose and breathes in. The air doesn't go in and Liam starts cursing to himself. Why didn't he just continue watching the pool?! He readjusts the mask and tries to blow more air in.
The air goes in, thank god, but the guy still isn't breathing. "Fuck!" Liam shouts as he begins to give the rescue breaths. He counts out loud before taking a deep breath and blowing air into the mask. He keeps going. He's not getting any response but he keeps going.
Even when the paramedics arrive and take over, Liam is still trying to save the boy.
Liam's able to understand some of the medical jargon. He knew the boy was still alive as they loaded him into the ambulance. But after that, Liam didn't know anything.
He sat on the pool deck, tears streaming down his face. "It's all my fault!" He screamed. Allison put her arm over his shoulder to comfort him. He felt her hot tears soak his shoulder but he didn't care.
|-/
It had been about a week since the accident and Liam was finally able to go back to work. He had spent four nights (and days) getting drunk with Niall and Harry trying to make the guilt disappear.
By the fifth day however, he had gotten a call from his manager who had learned from his son in the ER that the boy had survived.
With a sigh of relief, Liam began sobering up and getting ready to go back to work.
Liam started his routine again, making the walk down the the pool, however when he arrived, he realized there was already a bunch of people at the pool. Liam walked through the gate into the pool and was surrounded by ten people within seconds, all of them taking him into hugs or shaking his hand or just thanking him.
"It's my fault!" He kept trying to say, holding back tears. "If I would have just paid attention none of this would have happened!"
"It doesn't matter," a woman said to him. "If you hadn't have pull him out this could have gone so much worse!" She pulls Liam into a right hug. "You saved my son!"
Liam nods, not knowing what to say. Allison came up behind him and gave him a hug.
Liam wanted to take credit for saving the boy but he knew that it was his fault that anything happened in the first place. The guilty conscious started coming back as soon as one of the boy's sisters handed him a card thanking him. |
3192d9fbd77241d299705f3f7c49c7e4 | ['cb98fb8f9c694f94bdbb24da25409c51'] | From the other side of the door, John could hear the low buzz of the television. He could tell by the cheers and jeers that it was probably some horrible daytime chat show. Balancing his armful of grocery bags carefully, he let himself in, only to nearly twist his ankle on the discarded trainers lying in the middle of the entryway. He muffled his curse and put the milk in the fridge. Sherlock was sprawled out on the couch, limbs splayed like a ragdoll. The knuckles of one hand brushed the ground, while a leg hung carelessly over the back of a cushion. Remnants of his ridiculous costume surrounded him. The jeans lay in the floor, turned inside out with their hasty removal. The turtleneck dangled from a lamp. But where was his jumper? Upon closer inspection, John finally spotted it. It, too, was on the couch, and Sherlock’s face was squished unceremoniously against it. He inched closer, partially in an attempt to retrieve it, and more irrationally, to reassure himself that he was still breathing. What a stupid, fleeting anxiety he found himself plagued with now and then. Taking only the briefest moment to ascertain Sherlock’s warm breath against his fingers, he clutched the jumper and tried to ease it out from under his head. Sherlock snuffled, sounding disgruntled, and pushed his face more insistently against the fabric, trapping John’s fingers against his cheek. John snatched his hand away as if he’d been burned. Blinking down at Sherlock, and then at his hand, he resolved to retrieve the jumper later.
John had little reason to worry—Sherlock put it in the hamper himself as soon as he woke up. He had been willing to write off the sight of Sherlock _snuggling into his jumper_ as an unconscious act were it not for an incident a few weeks later. Once again, that jumper _should have been_ _in the hamper_. But as he crept downstairs for a cup of water, throat parched from the open-mouthed panting of rare but intense night terrors, the image before him arrested him where he stood. Sherlock had thrown John’s jumper on over his own pajamas. He sat in John’s chair with a book propped up on his knees, toes curled around the edge of the seat–distantly John thought he should chastise him for reading in the near-dark, but before he could even form the words, he watched, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as Sherlock drew the soft, knitted material up to his face and breathed deeply, eyelashes fluttering in some imaginary interaction. _Now_ his mouth really was dry. As if his legs were moving of their own volition, he descended the stairs. A floorboard creaked underfoot, harsh and cacophonous in the otherwise silent moment. Sherlock’s head shot up, wild-eyed and alarmed. They regarded each other, neither daring to speak. After a few seconds that felt to John like eons, Sherlock’s gaze narrowed and hardened and he got up wordlessly, trying to slip past him. John’s reaction felt detached and delayed, but his hand shot out, groping clumsily for Sherlock’s wrist. Sherlock tried to wrench his arm away. John tightened his grip.
His voice quavered, but Sherlock gave his best impression of detached condescension. “John, I really think you should—“
“Shut _up_ , Sherlock.” John put the hand not currently wrapped around Sherlock’s too-thin wrist up, shushing him. He closed his eyes and took a breath, slowly exhaling through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. “Let’s not do this.” His expression softened slightly, “… please?”
“Do what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” he sniffed, nose in the air. Even in the dark, John could see how Sherlock avoided his gaze, could feel his pulse thudding fitfully in his too-tight grasp. And it was Sherlock’s hand trembling, vibrating between them, not John’s. Apparently, dealing with Sherlock right now was close enough to being in a warzone, but he still flexed the fingers of his free hand, opening and closing his fist repeatedly as if calming that “intermittent tremor.” More than anything, it lessened his overwhelming urge to throttle the other man.
“Are you really just going to pretend you weren’t just… just” _sniffing my clothes like some kind of lunatic? Again._ John squeezed his eyes shut and started over. “Sherlock, this isn’t fair. You can’t just come waltzing back into my life after three years like nothing fucking happened. Things aren’t the same. I thought… I thought you were dead. And you’re always… but you never say…” This wasn’t working. His grasp on Sherlock’s wrist was firm, but his command of the situation was slipping. His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, trying to push past the massive lump in his throat. “And… and maybe I just _want_ you to say something but I can’t take this anymore. Do you even realize—“ _How much you hurt me? How much I love you? How much of an enormous pain in the ass that is?_
“ _Yes_.” Sherlock interjected. He twisted his hand in John’s grip, grabbing his forearm and jerking him forward. Their bodies collided awkwardly. Wide-eyed, John released his wrist, but Sherlock wound his arms around his waist and pulled him closer. “Yes, of course I realize.” His words were warm against John’s ear.
“You didn’t even let me finish. You never let me finish,” he protested weakly, the fight leaving him. His arms slipped around Sherlock, returning the embrace as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Your thoughts are, as ever, Dr. Watson, completely transparent to me.” Sherlock deflected, aiming for flippancy, but John could swear he heard vulnerability in his voice.
“You insufferable arsehole, can’t you just let me be angry at you for a minute?” John mumbled against the skin of Sherlock’s throat.
“You’ve been angry at me for much longer than that.” he countered quietly, nocking his head in the juncture between John’s neck and shoulder and sighing. “I’m sorry.”
John nodded minutely, hands buried in the material of his own jumper hanging from Sherlock’s thin frame. He’d have to tease Sherlock about that later. Now, though, now he just wanted to sleep. He was so, so tired. “Come to bed.” Sherlock’s raised eyebrow must have been audible, because he clarified, “ _not like that_ , just. Let’s. … I’m _knackered_.” The rest of his words died on his lips, but he was met with no resistance as he dragged Sherlock by the wrist up the stairs to his bed.
“Okay.” Sherlock finally replied as he settled against John. And they were. | c569754b607b45bd8135f0aedfe24ab8 | ['cb98fb8f9c694f94bdbb24da25409c51'] | smarter than he looks
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Aiba always knew more than he let on. At least, Jun couldn’t help but think so. Across the table, Aiba was quiet, contemplative. Calculating, maybe? Nothing like the cackling, wheezing whirlwind of good-natured idiocy he frequently came across as being on television. Of course, Aiba often _was_ a cackling, wheezing whirlwind of good-natured idiocy, but he was a lot more than that, too. Jun really liked the Aiba that didn’t misread kanji on purpose or injure himself with eating utensils. But he respected his skill at maintaining his “character,” when he himself so frequently couldn’t reconcile all the facets of his identity with everyone else’s expectations of who Matsumoto Jun was _supposed_ to be. His train of thought was interrupted when their waitress returned, setting down another round of beers. Aiba’s smile could have lit up the room and when he thanked the girl, she gushed mawkishly, her smile just as big but, to Jun, not nearly as beautiful. It looked like Aiba was pointlessly flirting and Jun rolled his eyes. But he didn’t have to be jealous, because as soon as he saw Aiba biting his thumb in thought, overhearing the makeup artist fussing at Jun about his under-eye circles and gaunt appearance earlier that day, he already knew what Aiba meant with the invitation to grab a beer. Sometimes, Jun knew more than he let on, too.
Maybe before this glass was even empty, Aiba would find a way to insinuate himself in Jun’s space. He wouldn’t fall all over Jun and ask him for help getting home, and he was at least two more drinks away from wailing, teary-eyed, about how much he loved Arashi.
It had always been that way, even when they were teenagers, Jun thought. Sometimes, there’d be porn on the television in a shared hotel room. Other times, there wasn’t even that for justification, just a passing remark that he looked “stressed out” and Aiba would reach for him, long fingers and a shy smile. Except for that first time, when Jun hadn’t known how to react, he returned the gesture, a shaking hand silently sliding into Aiba’s perpetually low-slung pajamas. They might as well have declared “no homo,” this pretense of “helping a friend out.” It was as transparent and contrived as “kissing practice,” but Aiba never said anything, never offered more than a spit-slicked palm, and maybe an awkward embrace when it was all said and done, and Jun never called him out on it. Everything was in balance; the illusion was maintained. Because Aiba knew what Jun was comfortable with, he always knew.
Hadn’t Arashi made their reputation as a group that got along so well precisely because they all knew when to withdraw, when not to push an issue, to push each other?
In those awkward, early years, not pushing was far more difficult for Jun, who wanted to speak up, to question, to ask someone, _anyone_ , whose brilliant idea it was for him to be so-called “comedy leader” in the first goddamn place. There was nothing funny about him, save his gangly limbs, unfortunate teeth, and explosive acne. Which, to him, wasn’t funny at all. He was often a sullen ball of anger and impotent frustration and he always, _always_ had to smile. Smile because there was always a camera somewhere. Smile because he had wanted all of this so badly. And Aiba had been there, without judging, without questioning, on the days when Jun just couldn’t take it anymore.
Over time, it had gotten better—better for him, better for everyone. But there were still those days; days when the only sleep he got was in the van on the way to a shooting location, days where the jokes and anecdotes about talking to himself and to his houseplants were more hurtful than funny, days where he just couldn’t seem to do anything right and he couldn’t keep the sharp, tetchy edge out of his voice. Sometimes, when he’d pull his pants back up and push his disheveled hair back with a clean hand; he’d think that Aiba was more thoughtful and mature than anyone was likely to ever give him credit for.
At other times, he would think that Aiba must be just as much of a coward as he was. |
67f6ea82f9664850ba56a08fa0ffc40d | ['cba31c7cda0840cfb2236e8bdb56439d'] | “Yup. I live for about 30 years, more or less.” Dan mentioned, causing him to curl up further.
“I’m almost 30, Dan, stop it.” Arin pressed at his temples with his thumbs, trying to process all of this.
“Dan- Dan, stop laughing at my pain.” Arin complained, which only made Dan laugh harder.
“Hey, you’re 78 in siren years. You cougar.” Dan laughed again, and Arin actually screamed.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I think this might be my favorite chapter. It was so fun to write tiny siren Dan!
8. Confession Time
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Dan looked up at Arin, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes wide and wet.
> Dan looked vulnerable.
After- what had it been? Four months?- His raft was coming along nicely, and it was nearly done. He could easily get water from Dan’s pond, and he could get food from around the island, though it was mostly fish. It would take a long time for Arin to get back home, so he wanted to be prepared enough.
But he couldn’t be prepared for not wanting to leave.
He missed his old life, of course. He missed Suzy, his friends, he wondered if they had made it back and if Jon was okay.
But at the same time, he didn’t miss the familiarity of it all. The repeating schedule of his life.
With Dan, things were different. It felt strange to admit, but it seemed like Dan was the excitement Arin had been looking for for the last 13 years. With Dan, he could escape his old life and the responsibilities there. Dan was a new routine.
There were equal pros and cons to each side, but he could only choose one.
He found himself slowing down on his raft. He focused on the arguments of leaving versus staying here.
If he stayed, there might not be enough food for both of them. Maybe Arin wouldn’t recover from his broken ribs if he didn’t get help, and then Dan would have to keep supplying for them.
Then there was the looming idea of regretting his choices in life by going home and living the same thing every day.
“Arin?” Just the person he had been thinking about.
“Huh?” Arin opened his mouth to continue, but when he saw Dan, something different pushed forward.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Arin spoke softly and rushed over to the pond, seeing his expression in better detail.
Dan looked upset when Arin was far away, but once he got closer, he noticed something.
Dan’s lip was quivering. He was holding back tears.
“I-” Dan’s voice shook. Arin hushed him and knelt down, getting face to face with his friend.
“It’s okay, take your time.” Arin reassured him. He wouldn’t rush him, but concerns filled his mind. Was Dan hurt? Was something wrong with Arin? Worries ran around his thoughts while he waited for Dan to continue.
“I…” Dan pushed out a breath. “I’m stuck here.”
“What do you mean?” Arin laid a hand on Dan’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb on it comfortingly.
“I wasn’t born here, Arin. I was born in the ocean. I was free. Then…” Dan took a breath.
“Someone took me, and stuck me in here.” The admission hit Arin like a punch, and it certainly wasn’t being kind to Dan, either.
“Take your time, Dan.” Arin whispered, moving his hand down to his arm.
“When I was 21 in your years, I was really good at seducing people. Once, I… I attracted this sailor. He was so nice, and he’d sail out to see me, just by himself. He didn’t want his crew to know. It hurt, but I understood. People wouldn’t believe him, they’d lock him away. But it was nice, he was a good person. His laugh was low and you could hear it for miles, he was sweet, he cared about people- he cared for me, Arin. He did, I know-” Dan choked up and covered his mouth.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not fighting you on this.” Arin shushed him, tracing his thumb around one of Dan’s scales. The edges were hard but smooth, and the motion distracted him so he wouldn’t cry too.
“We were together for a few months, and he just started talking less and less. I’d ask what was wrong, and he’d say he was thinking of other things. Then, one day…” Dan paused to compose himself. It was obviously taking a lot of energy to bring this up, so he was letting Dan take as much time as he needed. Talking about the person that took his freedom away had to take a lot out of him.
“One day, he snapped. He stayed up on his ship and wouldn’t be convinced to come and sit with me. He said I wasn’t being like a siren, that, if I wasn’t going to be flirty like I was in the beginning, I should be killing him. I tried and tried to tell him that I wanted to know him, I didn’t want to just be a seductive creature, that I _loved_ him- but he wouldn’t have it. He threw a net over me, dragged me through the water until he found this place, and carried me through.” Dan’s words slowed as he described how he was forced here, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Thinking about it, he didn’t care if there was water in here or not. He had never been here before, he didn’t know what it was like. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe this pond is the reason I lived, maybe it was a last act of sympathy. Maybe he threw me in here instead of on the ground as an act of love.” Dan’s ideas all had a tone of cynicism, bitterness. | 0faefb3d8d174342803415485aca3a72 | ['cba31c7cda0840cfb2236e8bdb56439d'] | “Arin…” He sighed, tipped his head back on the arm of the couch.
Dan just felt Arin’s lips turn to a smile while he kept moving down, sucking along his collarbone to the junction of his neck and shoulder. He clawed at Arin’s back gently, still unsure about how to feel about this, but he was definitely enjoying it.
“Can I take off your shirt?” Arin murmured and looked up at Dan. He nodded and Arin slipped it up, fingertips brushing up his sides. As Dan pulled it off, Arin continued and kissed down his chest. He was making sure to kiss every inch of his skin, worshipping his body. Sure, it was slow, but he wanted to savor every second of this, know every detail of Dan’s body.
He then worked his way down to his stomach, Dan’s hand moving into his hair.
“Please…” He mumbled, and Arin noticed now how lustful he looked.
“Wow…” Arin stared, looking at his red cheeks, his quickly-rising chest, his slight erection currently pressing against him. He smirked and bit at the Grump’s hipbones, causing Dan to buck his hips.
Dan shuddered and eagerly nodded when Arin asked to take off his pants. He swallowed slightly as he took it all in.
He was gorgeous. Long legs led up to that dick they had so often talked about, which was currently in a semi.
Arin just gazed lovingly before shifting down the small couch to kiss up his calf, his hands on Dan’s hips. He slowly worked his way up to his thighs, and he heard Dan’s breathing getting heavier as he moved up his thigh. He made sure to give just as much attention to each leg, sucking hickeys and nibbling at them because no one would see those, besides maybe Barry if Dan walked around in boxers.
Finally, the moment Dan had been so impatiently waiting for.
“What do you want me to do to you, gorgeous?” Arin purred and Dan let out a small moan.
“Fuck me, Arin, _please_.” Dan begged, and Arin would so happily oblige.
“I gotta prep you first, okay? I’ll go nice and slow.” Dan nodded. Arin slowly pulled off his boxers, revealing his leaking member.
Arin licked his lips and slid his thumb over the slit, slicking him so he could slowly jerk him off. Dan let out a loud moan, and he just chuckled as he teased around his entrance.
Once he thought Dan was ready, he pushed a finger in, letting him adjust for a minute, continuing his slow handjob. He began to learn that Dan was pretty loud, at least when he was this sensitive or desperate. He couldn’t wait to hear him when he was actually inside him…
He started to pump the finger, slowly at first but beginning to move faster. He then inserted a second, scissoring them to stretch him further. Dan could barely go a second without making some sort of noise, whether it was a moan or whisper or plea.
Soon he was up to three, barely keeping himself from finishing Dan then. It would be so easy, just jerk him off a little faster or hit his prostate a couple times and he’d be done for. Or both, that would be amazing. But no, he was hard at this point as well, and he needed this. He decided he was stretched enough and ran to his bag to grab a condom, leaving Dan squirming on the couch.
When he came back, he was glad to find Dan hadn’t decided to finish himself, and he rolled on the condom. He looked so good under him, hot and begging, and he’d look even better getting fucked.
Arin slowly inserted himself, the both of them groaning. This had to be odd for Dan, but at least he seemed to be enjoying himself. Or, definitely enjoying himself.
He started off slow, as he had done with everything else, wanting to get every beg and filthy sound out of him.
“Arin…” Dan whined through Arin’s shallow thrusts. “Fucking- go faster, please.” Arin sighed shakily and obeyed, pushing fully into him and almost pulling all out before repeating. Dan’s moans became louder, and he could tell he was close. It made sense, considering how much he was begging before. Arin quickened his pace further and Dan finished with a cry. He shuddered, each sound arousing him further, and he came a moment later with a moan of his friend’s name.
Once he had a little more stability in his legs, he pulled out, lying back on top of Dan.
Dan let out a long whistle, looking down at Arin with a smile.
“That was a hell of a ride…” Dan whispered with a tired laugh.
“And we can do it again.” Arin smiled and cuddled up to him, grabbing a blanket to cover them up.
“Hell yeah. Just… Lemme sleep first.” Dan yawned and shut his eyes. Arin nodded and shut his eyes too. He heard Dan snoring softly and snuggled into his chest.
“Love you…” Arin mumbled and fell asleep in Dan’s arms.
**Author's Note:**
> Send me LINK!!!! |
9e3e5d59314b4c8a8174b30b4fe8c790 | ['cba4371c88a94fcba3ac1a0ec6622234'] | “When its time comes to bloom, I’ll bet it will be the most radiant of them all.”
With a quiet sniffle and a quick wipe to his drying eyes, Marth looked down to his hands and the flower within them before looking up at his mother’s knowing smile,
“You really think so?”
Liza’s smile never wavered as she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her son’s teal head,
“I have no doubts.”
With that, Marth allowed a bright smile to break across his face, one which has been rarely seen ever since Elice’s leaving. And, the Queen could not help but return her own, happy to see her son in higher spirits.
That quiet, tender moment between mother and son was held for a long while before Liza’s smile suddenly morphed into one of playfulness as she gently nudged the younger bluenette's shoulder with her own,
“So, you know...before your sister left, she informed me that she had managed to sneak you out of the castle recently.”
Cheeks flushing a bright pink, Marth looked away at that.
Liza let out a quiet chuckle at her son’s sudden shyness at this new topic before she looked up at the cherry blossoms hanging above them in the tree they resided under,
“Now now, no need to be so bashful around me. It’s about time you’ve managed to find a way out of here, and well...become acquainted with someone.”
Marth’s cheeks couldn’t get any redder at his mother’s words. This was quite an uncomfortable conversation,
“U-Uh...y-you know I’m not...not really interested in f-finding a...a...um lady friend right now, Mother.”
Smirk still present, Liza let out a sigh as she continued to look up at the blossoms in bloom,
“I never said anything about you needing to have interest in a _woman.”_
Marth’s jaw dropped as he suddenly turned towards the Queen.
“What’s with that face? You wouldn’t think I would have any knowledge on who my children fancy?”
The prince squeezed his eyes shut.
This was humiliating.
“Elice wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” the younger bluenette grumbled out, face resembling that of a freshly picked tomato.
Liza laughed lightly before rubbing the poor embarrassed boy’s back,
“Oh, worry not, Marth. I am your mother, not a complete stranger. Now...the reason I bring this up is to not shame you. Actually, it is quite the opposite. I think you should try again and dress in whatever way Elice had you for a disguise. Then, I can take you out—.”
_“Mother!”_
Chuckling fondly at her bashful son, the Queen decided to ease her teasing,
“Relax, Marth...I am simply messing with you. However...I think you should take the risk and sneak out to at least explore the surrounding province. Altea is a remarkable land of countryside, and I trust you are old enough to keep safe and return before dusk.”
Marth tilted his head at such forward permission to leave the castle, before a sudden, more dangerous and thrilling idea formed in his mind,
“Well...I guess I can try again. But, Mother...where um...where would be the best place to avoid, you know...Jagen when he helps lead out the troops tomorrow to meet the General?”
Liza tilted her head at such a question. But then again, although she wasn’t aware of her son’s sudden, secret intentions, the inquiry did make sense if Marth truly did not want to be caught out of the castle by Cornelius’ head knight.
“Hmm...I know General Greil has already set up base a few miles east of the town just northward from here. And, Jagen may not actually be fit to lead with his injuries...I, instead, believe the General will be sending out a tactician to come gather up those men in the connecting villages who have enlisted for the war.”
Marth bit his lip at that, but nodded silently in response.
The Queen looked over her son quietly, noticing the wheels churning in his head at the sudden deep thoughts he appeared to be having. However, the older royal simply deemed them to be worries of anxiety the prince may be having for being out in the open on his own for the first time.
She nudged Marth gently once more with a soft wink,
“Hey...you will be fine. And, your father will be none the wiser. I will make sure of it.”
Startled slightly from the troubling ideas beginning to collect in his mind, the younger male blinked up at his mother’s warm smile before returning a shy one of his own.
Although Marth welcomed her love and encouragement to become more independent and rebellious against his father, the Queen was unfortunately unaware of the sudden light bulb that had also gone off in the teal-haired boy’s mind.
He had indeed worn the attire of the folks people while his sister led him through the closest town by the castle one night. Everyone knew Elice to be the princess and greeted her as such, while they unsurprisingly paid Marth no mind. No one had a clue to who he actually was, and simply believed him to be a mere poverty servant to his sister.
Marth grinned brightly once more.
His disguise was pretty much himself.
And, now that he knew Jagen was no longer leading out the troops tomorrow evening...
It will be much easier for the trivialized prince to formulate his real plan.
* * *
Rubbing her fingers to the temples of her head, the Divine Dragon of Archanea rolled over in agitation once more with a quiet huff.
So many prayers were being shot through her mind, and so little time there was to keep up with each and every one of them. However, a certain prayer in particular has been nagging at her for quite some time now, and she was having the upmost trouble in passing it up.
Suddenly, a pair of racing footsteps approached Naga’s laying, human form on the cold, stone cobble ground before their owner shouted, | aec1e86fd99c411897a7e66448afea5d | ['cba4371c88a94fcba3ac1a0ec6622234'] | The prince’s quiet understanding from a moment ago suddenly morphed into an ugly bubble of rage. Marth knew how upset Merric was and understood his pain, but his friend knew _exactly_ why he was unable to come to their aid in taking his sister out of this horrid mess.
“You know I was unable,” he spoke lowly in a dangerous tone that wavered ever so slightly.
Gritting his teeth, Merric tried keeping his hands from clamping into fists. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, knowing it wasn’t right to take his grief out on his best friend.
And, he knew it was far from Marth’s fault. Not only did Cornelius lock down his son from the outside of his own bedroom on multiple incidences throughout the ordeal in sending Elice out, but there was also no knowing in what the King would have done Gods forbid his son were ever in his presence while in political discussion with his noblemen in the parley room.
He heard the story once before when the young prince had made that mistake.
The poverty in the surrounding provinces of the country of Altea had hit an unexpected high rate one year, and Marth had tried shoving in his say on how to accommodate it. However, the King refused to pay his son’s ideals any mind, which led the younger royal to creating an outburst one evening without His Majesty’s permission while he had been in conference with his noblemen over the entanglement.
A time that left Marth bedridden and in Elice’s care for a few painful weeks, where he had been in dire need of true medical attention his Father had refused him. Where Cornelius had deemed there to be too much of a risk if any of the townsfolk, or even a private medical specialist alone, were to know an heir existed to the King’s thrown.
The remembrance of that dark tale slowly dwindled from Merric’s mind as he allowed himself to take a deep breath.
Hard green met watery, yet unnerving blue.
However, the sorcerer faltered upon the realization of how ridiculous this bickering was and the unnecessary pain it was causing the both of them.
There truly was nothing they could do now.
Elice was already gone.
With a dejected sigh, Merric allowed his features to soften as he continued to stare ahead at the hurt boy in front of him.
The Princess of Altea may be his dearest love.
But, she was also the kind-hearted, older sibling of his best friend.
A woman who both young men loved in their respectful ways.
But, they both felt the same amount of pain upon her absence. Although, with the King in a fury over his son’s behavior as of late, Marth has been getting double the whammy in hurt with his big sister being gone.
Jade concentrated softly on sapphire for a moment before Merric noticed the swallowed gulp and shake in the young royal’s stance. Carefully, the green-haired mage leaned forward before grasping his best friend by the tunic and pulling him in for a tight embrace.
Blinking at the sudden comfort, Marth was utterly confused before he allowed himself to melt into the hug and return it fiercely. Gripping the back of Merric’s thick blue cloak, the grieving prince bowed his head into the older boy’s shoulder and let out a shaky breath,
“Gods Merric...I...I wish she were h-here.”
Hushing the younger male softly, the sorcerer simply rubbed a soothing hand once more along Marth’s trembling back as his own eyes pricked with unshed tears,
“Me too.”
Allowing himself a moment, the bluenette sniffled quietly before his watery gaze looked up passed his friend’s comforting shoulder.
Before his sapphire eyes suddenly narrowed in puzzlement,
“Is...is t-that Jagen...?”
Looking up at that, Merric gently pulled away before he turned towards where the other was looking.
Just before the main entrance of the fortress, a lone soldier on a limping steed appeared to be hurrying their way over on the soft traveling path leading to the castle front. However, no one else they knew had bright white locks of hair like those of the King’s most noble knight.
But.
What was Jagen doing here?
He was supposed to be with—
“Elice.”
Both Marth and Merric turned towards each other as they together gasped out the princess’ name in unison.
Looking back once more as Jagen was hurriedly greeted by the castle guards, the green-haired mage pulled at his best friend’s arm,
“Come on!”
* * *
Prince and sorcerer flew through the castle halls, twisting and turning through every corridor until they were able to hear a crazed amount of shouting from the mess hall, just a few paces from the King’s parley room.
“You _swore_ to protect her, Jagen! She is my _daughter—!”_
“And _you_ failed to mention that we are already at _war_ with Gra! And, you sent her out _anyway!_ What for?! Princess Elice could have been _safe_ right now if it wasn’t for—!”
“I had no choice! She was my last option in forging a _peace_ with Gra—!
“You _threw_ her over to the _enemy_ and you _knew_ they were going to take her, marriage or no marriage! She is their _prisoner_ now!”
That final enraged shout from Jagen shut Cornelius up for a moment. Which gave ample room for the infuriated knight to continue,
“You _knew_ all along that Gra had been on the verge of attack. And, you not only let yourself become _wide open_ and _exposed_ to a war breaking out, but now you’ve put your own _daughter,_ your own _flesh and blood, in the middle of it!”_
The King remained silent.
Jagen let out an angered huff as he shifted uncomfortably from the terrible wounds he had endured from the Gra soldiers out in the gravel terrain, |
93cd6146342849ffb80c31f7ba046dc4 | ['cbaaff18a2914ac8a23cb98d348c3fa8'] |
It just happened, as fast as blinking.
One second I was laughing, fighting to protect my boy from those suckers, that don’t even tie their shoes without their ‘Dark Lord’ telling them to do so, and the next I was falling through the veil, my vision going at first green and then plain white.
I didn’t realize what had just happened until my back hit the floor, on the other side: no noises, no shouting. No one was fighting for their lives on this side. Silence ran all over the room, as realization hit me like a train: I am dead, I will never see Remus, nor Harry, ever again.
I won’t be able to tell Harry about his parents, about life and how it goes. I won’t be there to help pick-up girls and I won’t be able to hear stories about what happens to him and his friends inside the stone walls of Hogwarts. I won’t be there when he questions his sexuality for the first time, realizing that both boys and girls are cute. I won’t be able to comfort him and support him.
I will never be around for anyone anymore, and I don’t know it simply ‘cause I’m dead and can’t reverse this condition, but also ‘cause I’m _dead_ and we _dead people_ _know_ just about everything. Wow! I can’t wait to find someone to gossip with.
No, Sirius, bad dog, stay focused. Keep on your train of thoughts. Don’t think about chisme. Now, where was I? Oh, yes: Harry and his not-yet-out-of-the-closet bisexuality/pan-sexuality.
I will not be there for him, but Rem surely will! My sweet lovable Moony, all alone, without me to do stuff with him. Yet again, I was in Hell on Earth for 12 years so he might be used to this, but, still, we were so happy with our new honeymoon phase! Is he going to move on from this tragic situation? Probably not ‘cause I’m too hot, but still.
...Wait a second...
Nynphadora Tonks, aka Andromeda’s kid, aka my little cousin! Blood of my blood! And she has the hots for his furry little ass! I mean, who doesn’t think that Remus’ buttocks is one of a kind must be blind and I pity them for never seeing such perfection. Anyway... This is a victory!
Remus, if you want to grieve, grieve for the loss of my hot abs and glorious hair, but for the love you have for me, and I know it’s a lot, do her and get me a small army of Blackies or Tonkses or Lupins. Now that I think about it, Blackies is much nicer that Lupins. So it’s settled, Blackies!
Also, Remus, it’s your moral duty, as my hot boyfriend and Lily’s _beastie_ and James’ second best-man, to take my godson away from those Dursleys, those sick monsters whom take pride into being normal.
Remus don’t you dare forgetting that Petunia back-then-Evans now-Dursley said that I was a spoiled brat and that my hair are too long and have split ends. I don’t trust anyone who thinks that my hair are too long or lies about this majestic mane of mine. Not even in Azkaban I had split ends!
Moral of the story: get Harry the hell outta there and into Grimmauld Place, love and raise the hell out of him, and then get an army of younglings with Tonks. Good job, Sirius. Everybody else go home, the best planner in the world has spoken...wait...
I forgot to add to the equation that little shit of Dumbledore, or should I say... SHITTLEDORE! Even dead as can be I still am the pun master, bow before me peasants! Anyway, that asshole had all the possible clues that that Rat was guilty and still let me rot in a dirty cell in Azkaban, just ‘cause Harry had to live with Lily’s despicable sister, who locked him under the staircase and let him live there to not disrupt her happy little family. Puah, whitened sepulchres! How lovely to live next to those.
He could’ve get me to raise him, I was his godfather after all.
Or, he could’ve left the job to Old Minnie McGee, who would’ve raised him to be the most polite and bad-ass kid in the whole universe. He would’ve also been protected from harm, ‘cause I don’t think that even the Grim Reaper could mess with that woman!
Talking about Grim Reapers...where the fuck are they? I’m Sirius-fucking-Black, I just fucking died, and I deserve a fucking welcome party, with confetti and balloons and music. Or, you know, at least an introduction and indication to where the exit doors are. A map would be nice. Do I have to find my way to St. Peter’s Doors all by myself? Are the Grim Reapers on their day off or are they arguing because I’m too sexy and they all wanna take me there?
Maybe I should get up, though. This floor is getting a little uncomfortable and cold. I shall find my way out of here, gloriously as a hero on a quest! I still got legs, right? Fascinating, I can still feel my body working. And I used to fear death ‘cause I thought that I’d have to leave my body behind, decomposing, and it would have been such a waste! Apparently, not even death can resist this hot stuff!
Wait...does this also mean that other parts of my body, let’s just say my penis, still work? Can I get a boner in here while watching Moony shower? Creepy, stalk-y, perv-y thought, but can I? Can I jerk off in Heaven? Or is it a sin, blasphemy? A bad thing that’s gonna get me kicked out? Can you get kicked out of Heaven once you’re inside? Isn’t it, like a contradiction? Dante said that once you enter Heaven, you lose all interest in everything but God, or something like that. So is it like this? Whatever, I’ll find out later. | 96f9df8062604c2b8d9d6a184f6f39d2 | ['cbaaff18a2914ac8a23cb98d348c3fa8'] | “We won't, and that's okay. I wanna change with you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go getting ready. See ya at the altar, love.”
84. Echoes
“I dare you to do it.”
“Do what exactly?”
“We're exploring a dark big cave, doesn't it make you wanna scream?”
“You mean in fear? No, not exactly. I could teleport us out of here in case of any danger. It wasn't wise to not bring our ammo here, due to the fact that it is a big dark cave.”
“Don't worry, there's nothing in here. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Do you have science based proof for that feeling?”
“Just shut up and scream.”
“AAAAA happy no…”
“ _ AAAAA _ ”
“What the FUCK!? Stop laughing, Dean, there's someone screaming!”
85. Falling
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A entrance from Cas' blog
" _Falling_ always hurts.
Whether it's from a chair, or the stairs, or heaven, it's always the same.
And whether you trip over your feet or your pushed, the ground will always be there to catch you. With time you'll heal and forget about it.
You’re not who you were before , and you'll never be like that again.
And the ground that catches you can be anything. It can be anything, a couch, a lake, a pair of arms that belong to kind apple green eyes full of love and trust.
Yes, falling hurts. But it's the afterwards what really matters.”
86. Picking up the pieces
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Dean, normal; Sam, bold; Cas, italic.
“ **I don't want to know how this happened….”**
“ _Believe me, Sam, you really don't.”_
**“BUT you're going to clean this mess.”**
“Well technically it wasn't my fault…”
_“You were backing me up against the wall.”_
“And you were trying to find a grip. And when you found it, you sent the whole cabinet to the ground.”
“ _Nothing of this would've happened if you hadn’t bit me! Not that I'm complaining, but still.”_
**“I TOLD YOU TWO FUCKS THAT I DO NOT WANT THE DETAILS. I don't care who topped who, you broke it. And now you pick the pieces up.”**
87. Gunshot
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Dean, normal
> Cas, Italics
> Sam, bold
**“WHAT WAS THAT?”**
“Chill Sammy, nothing to worry.”
“ _Sam is right in worrying, Dean. After all, he heard a_ gunshot.”
**“Exactly. Thanks, Cas. Care to explain?”**
“Not really.”
_“What your brother is trying to say is that he accidentally fired his pistol.”_
**“And how exactly did he do such thing?”**
“You tell him and I kill you.”
“ _You used a wrong tense, Dean. It’s ‘I’ll kill you’, in future for. Anyway, he was loading his gun and I accidentally tickled him.”_
**“How?”**
_“I touched him as I was getting on my knees and...”_
“Okay, that’s enough. Imma kill you both.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "He shoots at the beginning and then shoots at the end"
> paraphrased wise words from My Beta Mels
88. Possession
We’re experts in the field.
Any type of weird stuff, we’ve been there. Demoniac _,_ ghost-induced or angelic _possession_.
Ghouls, genies, dragons, witches and wizards.
All the random stuff, been there, done that. Actually, killed all that, or mostly anyway.
And yet, not just bad things or material things go around the word.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I truly belong somewhere.
I can feel myself being branded and marked and, yes, possessed by something greater and older than the Universe.
And I am loving every single moment of this.
Knowing where you belong is intoxicating.
89. Twilight
“It is highly illogical and unrealistic.”
“Yeah, dude, I know. Real life vampires don’t act like this.”
“Indeed. But that’s mostly the unrealistic part. The illogical part is about how the girl is acting.”
“Don’t criticize on her acting, her role was simply badly written. Kristen Stewart’s got balls.”
“Is she a woman of transgender experience?”
“NO, not that kind of balls. Metaphorically speaking.”
“I see. Still, I don’t recall girl to be attracted to this kind of boys.”
“That’s generally creepy and doesn’t happen usually. It’s just a bad fanfiction trope. Can you please ask questions after it’s over?”
90. Nothing and Nowhere
“Have you checked in the cupboard under the stairs?”
“Yeah, I lived my Harry Potter moment. _Nothing_ ’s there.”
“What about the big wardrobe in the corridor?”
“I revived those sweet closeted days with joy in my heart.”
“Tone down your sarcasm, Dean. Did you find it or not?”
“Answer’s no. It’s _nowhere_ to be found, if there even is one.”
“There was one can opener, until you broke it.”
“It was an accident! And it wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m sure the can itself is to blame. Anyway. We still need one. Get in the car, we’re going grocery shopping.”
91. Answers
****“Care to explain, Dean?”
“What, Sammy?”
“Don’t answer me with another question. You know very well what.”
“I don’t. You just came up to me all menacing without any reason. What is the reason, Sammy?”
“Stop calling me ‘Sammy’. Fine, I’ll play your game. Explain why you haven’t slept in your bed in days.”
“Samuel! Are you stalking your big brother?”
“Stop being a massive drama queen and answer.”
“I feel threatened. Imma go and hide in Cas’ room for a few hours until you’ve stopped obsessing with me.”
“So that’s where you’ve been.”
“His bed is very comfortable...SONOFABITCH!”
92. Innocence
White. It’s the colour of purity.
A girl on her wedding day in western culture wears white to represent her _innocence_ , while she may wear bright colours in the East.
It’s the colour of paper and bed sheets. It’s the colour of many motel’s towels and several hotel’s bathrobes.
It’s the colour of the wrapping paper on the first gift he gave me.
It’s the colour of the shirts we both wear whenever we’re working. |
c4f2d09a24024ec2887e6e18b987ca2d | ['cbbb764b79d04a44aaf8d3a1340fad5d'] | He had waited for this moment for so long, to finally dance with the girl of his dreams. Peggy was quiet as they swayed to the sweet melody, and he knew he’d be hearing this song for the rest of his life. His first dance with the perfect partner. He couldn’t be happier.
“Thank you, Peggy,” Steve murmured as the song swelled to a close, and he released her so she could sit back down on her bed. She patted the space beside her, and he took the seat, their shoulders brushing.
“When I wasn’t busy with SHIELD, I was raising Tony.” Peggy took a deep breath leaning her head on Steve’s shoulder. “I was the one who taught him how to dance, and he took to it like a duck to water. He was three years old, and this was the first song we danced to.” She looked up at Steve, her brown eyes bright as she smiled at the memory. Her hand found his, and she squeezed gently, running her fingers over his knuckles. “He’s a natural at it, you should ask him to teach you. Don’t let that rubbish he normally plays fool you; he loves this song.”
“I’ll ask him when I get back,” Steve said, nodding absently and patting Peggy on the shoulder before standing up and gently tucking her back into her bed. “Speaking of, I gotta go, Tony’s probably waiting for me.”
Peggy shook her head as Steve adjusted the vase of flowers on her bedside so she could see them. He had re-tied the yellow ribbon around the glass of the vase, but he couldn’t get it to look as fancy as Tony’s did. He slid a finger across a soft, waxy petal that was barely blooming.
“He loves you, you know?”
He couldn’t help the tense of his shoulders in surprise as he dropped his hand and turned to look at her. Peggy had closed her eyes as she spoke, and Steve took that as his cue to close the blinds so she could nap.
“I’ve never seen him look so incredibly happy,” Peggy continued.
“Yeah, we may have had a rough start, but Tony and I are great friends,” Steve responded. He stopped the gramophone and put the record back in its sleeve. The grooved ridges felt familiar to his fingers as he slid the sleeve in its place on the bookshelf.
“Oh, Steve.” Peggy shook her head as he bent down to kiss her cheek goodbye. “You are too adorable for your own good.”
“I’ll see you next week, Peg, and Tony will be here too.”
Steve paused in the doorway, looking back at Peggy with a soft smile on her face. While he had originally hated having missed his chance, seeing her so content with how things ended up always made him grin, gave him hope for his own future. She clearly knew what she was doing, and she always gave him the best advice.
Maybe it was time for Steve to finally start taking it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Why did the ocean leave the party early?
> He was getting really tide.
2. Chapter 2
When Tony emerged from the bathroom, Steve was floored. He had never seen Tony clean-shaven, and it made him look ages younger. Steve was surprised to see that the dark blond hair made Tony look a thousand times more attractive, especially coupled with his olive skin.
Tony was frowning as he dried his hands. “The contacts they gave me are not prescription.”
That’s when Steve noticed his eyes, and good lord. Steve had always thought Tony with brown eyes would be the death of him, but the blue was almost as pretty, sparkling with a new kind of mischief as Tony squinted around the room. “Maybe they’ll let you go without them.”
“Doubtful,” he shrugged, the wet ends of his hair dampening the shoulders of his grey henley. Steve had never seen Tony in acid wash jeans before, and the black, ripped ones he was wearing now clung to his legs like a second skin. Steve had to tear his eyes away in order to focus on the words coming out of Tony’s mouth. “I have glasses around here somewhere,” Tony mumbled, his naked feet slapping against the hardwood floor as he clumsily stumbled away from the bathroom, his depth perception clearly skewed. Tony started to rummage through the bedside table, looking for his glasses.
Steve came up behind him to look over his shoulder. There, right in the middle of the drawer was a black spectacle case with Tom Ford printed in blue across the cover. Steve picked it up and flipped the case open as Tony turned around, caged between Steve and the dark wooden bedside table. Steve plucked the large black frames out of the case pulling them open and gently sliding them onto Tony’s face. “Is that better?”
Tony blinked up owlishly at him as though seeing him for the first time. His blue eyes were magnified by the frames, and Steve suddenly never wanted Tony to take them off. There were a couple of inches between them, all Steve had to do was duck his head to close the gap and they’d be kissing…
A shiver ran down his spine, despite the warm forest green hoodie he was wearing, and Steve resisted the urge to slide his fingers into his sweatpants’ pockets to keep them from reaching out to Tony.
“With this tracker,” Tony began, his fingers drawing Steve out of his reverie. Steve’s gaze shot down to where Tony was sliding a gold wedding band up his left ring finger. Tony’s eyes were laughing as he slowly brushed his thumb across Steve’s knuckles and continued, “I, Edward Carbonell, take you, Grant Brooks, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, until Fury do us part.” | 16b9ae753947496fb9d843d284340344 | ['cbbb764b79d04a44aaf8d3a1340fad5d'] | > He asked him “Water you doing tonight?”
8. Chapter 8
Steve loved waking up like this, with Tony’s box-dyed blond hair in his face, and their bodies pressed against each other. With a sigh, Steve turned his head to glance at the clock on the nightstand. This was usually when he’d go for his morning run, but there wasn’t really anywhere to go on a cruise ship
He snuggled back into Tony, inhaling the warm smell of his coconut shampoo and the lingering scent of grease that always seemed to cling to his skin. Tony still had his fingers curled around his wrist, Steve’s arms wound around his waist with a hand raised to cradle the arc reactor.
He pushed his knees up and into the back of Tony’s legs until they were molded together from shoulder to hip. Steve didn’t want to ever leave their bed but as the early rays of sunlight glinted through the porthole, he figured someone would need to go and get Tony his morning coffee.
“I think today’s a graphic tee day,” Tony’s soft groggy voice startled Steve out of his thoughts and soon the smaller man was rolling over so they were facing each other, legs tangled together in the sheets, “don’t you?”
Steve took in Tony, eyes heavy with sleep and face young and open. His blond curls were a bird’s nest, shoulders a beautiful relaxed line.
“I brought a dinosaur t-shirt,” Steve told him helpfully as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “if we go black bottoms and cute graphic tops we can make all the other couples jealous with how perfectly coordinated we look.” Steve still had his arms around Tony, but neither of them said anything about it as Tony closed his eyes, laying his head down on the pillow, soft breath against Steve’s bare chest.
Steve was really glad that Tony hadn’t made a big deal about the snuggling. He was always really cuddly when he was asleep and while he and Tony had shared a bed in the past, it had never been this bad. KHe loved being cozied up against Tony and he was grateful that he didn’t read into it to much and demand an explanation that Steve would never be able to give him.
“Stay here, we can get coffee together later,” Tony mumbled reading Steve’s thoughts perfectly as he debated getting out of bed like yesterday and heading down to the coffee bar.
Steve huffed out a chuckle as he settled back into the pillows, eyes roaming up the expanse of Tony’s bare chest. He averted his gaze, if he stared too long his morning wood could get the wrong idea and the last thing he’d be able to do was hide a raging boner from Tony when they were still warmly pressed together under the sheets.
Steve’s eyes trailed around the room searching for a distraction as he slid one hand up Tony’s back and into his hair. It would probably be best to get out of bed. Steve sighed before leaning forward, “I think I want coffee now.”
Tony whined as he got out of bed with Steve, which he honestly thought was worse than getting out of bed on his own. Tony was noticeably half hard and unashamed as he followed Steve to the bathroom for his toothbrush. They stood side by side in the mirror to brush their teeth, Steve avoiding Tony’s beautiful brown eyes as he willed away his interest. If Tony noticed, he didn’t say anything about it, instead choosing to make garbled conversation around his toothbrush.
Steve laughed, spitting in the sink before gargling. He didn’t have to shave but Tony did so he excused himself from the bathroom to give the genius some privacy to relieve himself and shave off his stubble.
He dug through his bag for his black acid wash jeans and his pink graphic tee. It was a ridiculous screen print of a t-rex holding Captain America’s shield but Tony had seen it while they were out shopping one time and couldn’t resist buying it for Steve. That was the same time he had bought an unholy amount of cat t-shirts, filling his closet with more and more ridiculous slogans and pictures to puzzle the paparazzi when they did manage to recognize him outside the tower.
Steve got dressed quickly, pulling on his flip flops and then waiting for tony to get out of the bathroom so he could use it. When Tony finally emerged he had his contacts in and glasses on, wide blue eyes ready to greet the day and drive Steve crazy. Steve loved him best when he was like this, young and open, eyes sparkling with a beautiful glimmer of intelligence.
Tony occupied himself with his laptop as Steve used the bathroom. Washing his hands and smoothing down his hair in the mirror. He grinned at his reflection, running his fingers over the stubble on his chin.
When Steve stepped out, Tony was already dressed in his pink cat shirt and sinfully short black cutoffs, tapping away at his laptop like usual. “We got a hit on Garrett in the breakfast restaurant just like you predicted,” Tony said, glancing up from his laptop. “Jarvis also picked up a call to one of the restaurant servers from Garrett regarding payment for a service so I’m guessing he’s is gonna pass the info over to one of the wait staff to deliver to Bateman.”
Tony routed the program to his phone so he could get updates through breakfast before he was ready to go. Steve threw a friendly arm around his shoulders as they headed towards the restaurant. He tried not to blush as Tony slipped his hand into his back pocket, loving the warm weight of it.
9. Chapter 9 |
e7bedb0d55304738acd90fbeea9d59d3 | ['cbfdb4a3e66c4b1bb35abbe8e27b2517'] | “Sure, just take everything out of context and let me sit at the back of the fight like a good little pup.” Jak didn’t acknowledge him, instead turning back to the battle and Sig’s commands.
Daxter ended up staying behind the wall for the entirety of the battle, listening to the Spargians plus Jak whoop and holler about their kills.
\---
After it was over, they hopped back into their car and drove back to Haven, with Jak trying to cheer the annoyed red head up, and Daxter ignoring the other man’s desperate grabs for attention.
“Look, Dax,” Jak tried as they walked into their wonderfully crumbly Haven City home, “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. Those guys would’ve targeted you first, y’know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Jak. I’m gonna take a bath and hit the hay.” Daxter said, shooing Jak and heading for the bathroom.
“Mind if I join you.” Jak whispered into Daxter’s ear as he latched on to the shorter man. Daxter scoffed, pulling himself out of the blond’s grasp and slamming the door in his face.
“At least he hasn’t gone to Tess.” Jak mumbled to himself, sitting down on the couch to await Daxter’s return from his bath.
\---
Half an hour later, Daxter emerged from the bathroom. Jak shot up, ready to continue his cheer up Daxter mission. Daxter sighed.
“C’mon, boy, let’s go cuddle.” He said, patting his leg. Jak chuckled, following the red head into their bedroom.
“You know,” Jak said as they got comfortable, “I kinda liked having you out on the field with me, gave me someone to show off to.”
“A good ego-stroke is always good.” Daxter replied after a yawn. Jak snorted.
“That’s not the only good kind of stroking there is.” A short pause later, and they were both laughing at the horrible innuendo.
For the rest of the night they cuddled, snuggled and played a nice long game of _is that a rat or do we have a ghost?_ Until, finally, they fell asleep.
**Author's Note:**
> Just like with every fic in this series, I had no beta and this's barely edited.
>
> Date written: 8/6/2012 | f29a5e00401f4e2abf95360367911d2a | ['cbfdb4a3e66c4b1bb35abbe8e27b2517'] | "You don't scare me, Ryan." Gavin bit back sharply. Ryan shot out of his seat and hauled angel off the couch by his collar, metaphorical fires blazing in his eyes.
"Do I scare you now?"
"No." Gavin's eyes betrayed him, though, and Ryan noticed the fear. Saw his wings ruffle in a shot-lived attempt to escape, the slight twitch of his arms as he tried to defend himself.
"Bullshit, now tell me-"
"Ryan, leave'em alone." Ray called from the half-rotted bamboo chair.
"Listen to your human, Ryan, back off. Geoff will-" Gavin stopped short as Ryan's fist connected solidly with his cheek.
"I don't care who or what you are, you don't _dare_ to boss me around with that pompous voice."
"That's enough, Ryan!" Geoff yelled from the doorway of the bedroom. "I think you two should leave."
Gavin jumped off the ground, bounding over to help Geoff, who seemed unable to stand properly.
"You shouldn't be up, Geoff, not until you're able to." Geoff smirked, reaching up to ruffle Gavin’s hair for a short second.
"I have to piss." Gavin nodded, looped his arm around Geoff's waist, and half pulled, half supported him as they turned and walked down the hall.
It was then Ryan saw the raw, bleeding stubs of what were once Geoff's wings.
\---
The trip home was silent, almost unbearably so, and nervous.
Ray sat in the passenger seat, absently watching the scenery fly by as Ryan tried his best to contain his anger.
If only Gavin hadn’t been there, he would’ve gotten some answers. He wouldn’t have to play second best to some child, wouldn’t have to watch _his_ best friend rely on someone neither had known over a decade.
But he couldn’t let himself linger on those thoughts, not with the newly purchased box sitting in the back seat, waiting to be opened.
The months he’d spent nervously watching over Ray would come to an end as soon as they arrived at Ryan’s apartment.
\---
"Are you sure you want to do this? Once you wear our horns, you can't go back to being human. It only works one way for us." Ryan warned as he opened the old, worn box he’d gotten from Jack.
"What about angels?"
"They have their laws, we have ours. The Fallen can regain their faith, but there is no faith in demons.” Ray nodded, and, for a short minute, the only noise in the room was the faint _thump-thump-thump_ of Ray’s heart hammering in his chest and the unsteady ticking of Ryan’s broken clock.
Ryan could understand the nervousness or fear or whatever Ray was feeling. He knew if he was in his shoes, he would’ve just told Ryan to fuck off the moment they’d met.
“And if the horns reject you, you could die.”
“I’ll-“ Ray cleared his throat, “Okay.”
“You’re abso-“
“Ryan, if you ask me if I’m sure again, I will shove those horns up your ass.” Ryan laughed and pulled out the horns. They were old and cracked like burnt wood, but they were none the less grand for it.
Ryan had never seen the change first-hand and, if he was honest, it actually wasn’t as impressive as he thought it should’ve been.
The horns fused with Ray’s scalp, sizzling and cracking as they did.
To Ryan, getting his horns had hurt like a bitch, but he was sure it was just because they’d grown from him instead of being carefully held in place. In fact, it was almost like holding together pieces of a broken object while waiting for the glue to dry.
There was no hiss of pain or flinch or any sign of unease or discomfort from Ray through the short process. He just stood there quietly as if deep in thought.
Once it was done, Ray’s head didn’t spin around, he didn’t suddenly spout some long-dead language, and he didn’t immediately ask for sex –which was all sorts of disappointing in itself.
Instead, the now-demon boy looked up almost shyly, silently awaiting Ryan’s approval or disapproval of his new status –approval Ryan was more than willing to dish out.
“You look amazing.” He smiled, running his nails up and down Ray’s new appendages.
To him, Ray had never looked more stunning –and he honestly couldn’t wait for the tail and claws to come in.
Ray smiled, leaning up for a kiss Ryan gladly accepted.
\---
“And the rest, as they say, is history.” Ryan finished. He stood up slowly, popped his back, and walked back inside with a mumbled, _Hope that answered your question_ , leaving Michael to sit in confused silence surrounded by empty beer bottles.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for reading! But that's not all~ If you guys want something on how Jack and Geoff met or a 'first meetings' fic for Jack and Geoff and Ryan and Geoff, just tell me and I'll make it the (possible) final part to this series. If not, I have some things lined up for some more Michael/Gavin moments and a few more Ray/Ryan ideas floating about.
>
> I'm really happy how this series turned out and I'm not sure I want to let it die, so if you guys have some ideas of what you want to see, just yell it into the void. I will hear you.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> These are the two alternate endings that I really liked, but didn't fit in with the story as a whole.
#### Alternate Ending One: Ray's side
When he asked Ray, the Puerto Rican laughed and told him a shorter story.
"I was screwing around at the library; saw some hot guy reading cheesy angel-human romance novels." He says with a slight grin, "We started talking about the bullshit they put in them and it just kind'a snowballed from there, really."
Michael cocked an eyebrow; it was nothing like Ryan's story. |
f71915b2e34441e7a95b8b173e223f31 | ['cbffdf7c54594a6d91f363e233c3b981'] | Jungkook lowered his head blush creeping across his cheeks, “M-morning hyung.” The younger mumbled grateful that the alarm stopped blaring, “I uh.. I thought id make you something..but the toaster decided to humiliate me..again.” Jimin cooed at the pink cheeks walking over giving them a little pinch without much thought of the effect it would have on Jungkook whose cheeks seemed to be getting pinker by the second. Was it getting warm in here? “So, Jungkook right?” Jimin hopped himself up on the counter next to the toaster with the burned to a crisp toast sitting in it.
“What’s you motive here? You just meet some hot bottom whose freshly out of a relationship drinking to his hearts content and then take him home, change him and leave him in your cute little iron man bed and then try to make him breakfast the next morning? What are you looking for here?” Jimin asked raising a brow running his hand through his bleach blonde hair smirking at the look of shock on Jungkook's face.
“N-no its, you were drunk and- and I didn’t want someone to take advantage of you.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, how was he supposed to say he thought Jimin was cute last night and didn’t want someone else to take him away. “I'm.. I'm just looking for a friend, I only have Tae right now” Jungkook spoke honestly looking away unsure now, Jimin whose smile dropped hopped off the counter, the dom side in him sparking, he felt instantly bad for judging the younger. “H-hey, I'm just messing with you..” Jimin rubbed Jungkook's back peering at him. “Hyung’s just messing with you. I really appreciate young doing that for me, taking care of me when I'm sure I was.. a handful. I don’t usually drink like that, it had just been a sucky day.” Jimin lifted Jungkook's chin back up giving him his signature mochi smile. “Why don’t we go get breakfast down the street? My treat okay.” Jimin's heart warmed seeing Jungkook smile back at him giving him a small nod. “Y-yeah… id like that.. let me clean this up first or Tae will stab me when I sleep.” Jungkook's toothy smile came back and for some reason Jimin was having trouble concentrating on his words and dumbly nodded along.
***
“That’s my muffin” Jimin gasped dramatically lightly smacking at Jungkook's hand, “just cause you finished yours doesn’t mean you get to eat mine.” Jimin pulled the napkin that held the muffin closer towards him eyeing Jungkook with a playful smile. “Yes but- I carried a very drunk you home last night and I think I deserved a bite of your muffin. Not to mention you said some pretty cute things while drunk and id be happy to repeat them” Jungkook smirked picking up said muffin and stealing a bite as Jimin looked at him in horror.
“I am never drinking with you again, you big baby” Jimin stuck his tongue out yanking his muffin back shoving the rest of it in to his mouth giving Jungkook a triumphant look. Jungkook snorts picking up his iced coffee rolling his eyes with a chuckle, “You're even cuter with your cheeks like that.” He mumbled under his breath for Jimin not to hear which thanks to the dead space in the café he most certainly did hear, Jimin smiled bashfully looking way finishing his muffin with a hard gulp. “Sh-shud up Mr. Iron man bed, yeah two can play this game” Jimin reached forward flicking Jungkook's nose obviously not hard enough to hurt the younger, just as a teasing gesture.
“Hey! ill have you know-" Jungkook started off with a serious face, “Id really appreciate if you didn’t say anything to the rest of the hyung’s” he ended off looking shy which only added to the way Jimin was being captured by the youngest cuteness. It was something that tapped in to Jimin's more dom side, he wanted to see more of Jungkook's flushed face, see the way Jungkook's bunny smile changes from confident to shy in an instant. He'd never seen someone with a Top tattoo so..soft looking.
“I won’t maknae, don’t worry your little obsession is safe with me” Jimin winked, “Do you have anything else planned for the day, I was thinking maybes yo—" Jimin paused when his cell phone started to ring the newest single of his favorite girl group, “Sorry, its Hobi. Hello?” Jungkook watched Jimin's face as he talked to Hoseok on the phone. It was funny watching the annoyance comb over Jimin's face. Even he can hear the concerned scolding of Hoseok from across the table, In hind sight Jungkook probably sent the others a message, the others meaning Taehyung but after taking care of Jimin he'd more so forgot and now Jimin was taking the heat for it.
“Hyung- stop, I have all my limbs and I'm alive okay? No I slept t Jungkook's.” Jimin rolled his eyes, “No!” Jimin stood up holding the phone tighter and walked away from the table leaving behind a confused Jungkook. “I said slept at his place not with him- You know I don’t want another relationship unless it’s the one. I'm tired having to pretend to be something I'm not.” Jimin sighed turning around to look back at his table catching Jungkook's eyes. Jungkook waves mouthing to Jimin asking if everything was okay. Jimin nodded waving back and held up a finger letting him know he'd be done soon. “hyung- I'm fine with being alone right now, look I got to go me and Jungkook are going to hang out. Ill call you later” Jimin hung up before Hoseok could get another word in and made his way back to the table. “Sorry about that” | 63b093c67b8a4889b55f522f5cfc4f45 | ['cbffdf7c54594a6d91f363e233c3b981'] |
1. Chapter 1: Three More Days
**Author's Note:**
> Please leave feedback, thoughts and suggestions at the end <3
“Three more days, are you excited baby? I cant wait to see you walk across that stage.” Jimin smiles in to the face time, eyes turning in to small crescents like they did when he smiled to hard which was pretty much always when he was with, talking to or even thinking about Jungkook. Jungkook was always in Jimin's head, he was surprised he still could get school work done with how much he thinks of the younger. All of his friends know of the younger male and each time Jimin opened his mouth to talk about Jungkook which was almost always they all tried to zone out their friends talking but none could, Jimin had a string of bad relationships and after meeting Jungkook the old Jimin was back. The bubble, giggling smiling ball of sunshine was back and stayed for once. Regardless of only seeing pictures of Jungkook and Jimin together the group already loved the boyfriend and couldn’t wait to welcome him in to their close nit group.
“Th-that’s exactly why I'm nervous! You're going to be there, what if I trip? Oh my god what if I fall and and hit my head and forget lose my memory?!” Jimin could see the true panic in Jungkook's eyes, he would laugh at the silliness because that’s so cliché thing to think but after seeing the real fear Jimin cooed at the younger male. “Gukkie, calm down that’s not going to happen. You're going to walk across that stage be handed your diploma and walk off, it’ll happen so fast you wont even have time to think about tripping. Plus you're a dancer baby, you’ve got this more than anyone else at that school. Oh how I wish I could just reach in to the screen and hold you.” Jimin whispered petting where Jungkook's hair was on the screen,. That made Jungkook smile and look away shyly. “I wish you were here too.. I hate when you have midterms- I don’t get to see you a lot.. how much longer do you have?” Jungkook asked picking at the strands of his Ironman plush pillow Jimin had given him as a gift for finishing all his tests with A’s.
Jimin's smile faltered, “Another week.. but look you have three days left and you're done. Hang out with some of your friends and it’ll go by quickly. Then were both free for a little bit together. Plus you’ll be going here towards the end of the year and we can see each other more. The guys are excited to finally meet you in person.” Jimin rolled his shoulders back taking a sip from his forth cup of coffee, Jungkook could see the way Jimin's eyes were getting tired, “I cant wait either hyung..I miss you so much. Why don’t you get some rest? Ah- no no, your eyes are drooping and you have bags. I need to keep you alive till I get see you. Just for a few hours.. promise me” Jungkook whispered wishing he could stay on longer and be selfish but he needed Jimin to get some rest, overworking his brain before an exam wasn’t how he was going to pass. Jimin turned his head to yawn and gave a small thankful smile, Jungkook was Jimin's everything especially his number one supporter. “Okay, ill finish the chapter since its only four pages and take a nap for a few hours. I miss you bunny..” Jimin whispered, neither have dropped the L word yet but they both knew they loved each other. It was always added silently when they said they missed each other. “I miss you too hyung.. call me after your test tomorrow. Goodnight hyung”
Jungkook smiles waving goodbye watching Jimin do the same thing before the face time call ended and Jungkook was left in silence. He looked around his room a few boxes filled with his things hidden in his closet. No one in his family knew he was planning to move in with Jimin and his friends after graduation. It was a bomb yet to drop, Jungkook was trying to find the best time to tell them for the last month and a half but each time he tried he got cold feet. Soeul was a big jump away from Busan, he wouldn’t get to see his family that much when school starts, part of the reason he was hesitating to tell them. Jungkook knew he'd have to do it soon, he already made his decision the moment Jimin asked him to move in he answered ‘yes’ in a heartbeat and nearly cried. His life in Busan was ending and beginning again in Seoul.
****
“Oh god baby you look so cute I can’t wait to see you, I tried looking for your parents but I couldn’t spot them. They know I'm here right?” Jimin asked with some worry looking at Jungkook through the screen once again shifting in his seat, he has the perfect view in the stands, his camera up and ready for when Jungkook's name was called. “Yes hyung they know you're here, moms excited to see you again said one time wasn’t enough.” Jungkook recalled telling his parents that Jimin was flying over to see him graduate, they were both shocked but happy that Jungkook's boyfriend was going out of his way. He was happy they finally accepted Jimin, the over protective parents were put off by the small age difference but after seeing how happy Jimin made Jungkook and treated him perfectly even if they were so far away from each other they let the age slide and supported their son. |
55a7da7494584d259a6418924751b8f5 | ['cc0f61fe54c64921886540adf09134cf'] | He feels the device torn from his wrist, an unexpected force yanks his side.
A confused ‘wha-‘ spills from his lips, he can’t move his arm, it’s numb, he feels numb. Everything feels too numb. The Doctor sleeps.
In the distance Missy wheezes into life in a stranger’s arms, spluttering up imaginary ashes. She’s alive, so alive.
2. Data Log (supplementary): ROVER ONE
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ROVER ONE- Report detailing specifics of planet surveyed. VOID as of 2278.2
Planet Name: Acquous-EN6
Location: Sixth Galaxy
Planet Formation Date: Delta-Delta-4
Planet Extinction Date: Beta-9
Planet Classification according to Shadow Proclamation Guidelines: Level 2 (little to no possible threat)
Rift activity: High
Dominant Resident Species: Name Unknown
[query] Weapons Systems?: Unconfirmed
Population Classification: Docile
Notable Features: Breathable Atmosphere
Solar System
Presence of Water
Potential for colonisation: Positive
Environment Description: Surface appears mostly wooded with little evidence of indigenous civilisation. Ore rich soils present, highly fertile land bearing edible crops with evidence of farming.
Report as follows: Possibility of intelligent life, maintain non-interference policy unless urgent action required. [ADDITIONAL NOTES] After official review planet appears uninhabited, mark as void.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Next chapter: soon.
3. chapter two: sigh no more
scanner one: incoming rift activity detected
scanner two: kickstart rift protocol
scanner one: affirmative, co-ordinating response now
scanner two: halt, i'm detecting another energy strand
scanner one: should i send them both here?
scanner two: pull them apart, we don't want two to deal with
scanner one: agreed, i'll redirect one towards the savages
scanner two: yes, send the other here for examination
scanner one: we have a confirmed lock, beaming up now
scanner one: strand safely contained, examination in progress
\---
Missy pulls back her arm, there is a clap as palm connects with skin. She turns fast. Walks as hard as she can away from him, to a futile attempt at freedom.
There’s shots of adrenaline pounding at her hearts, it’s the best her body can do to keep walking as the bolts of electricity shock through her.
‘Missy.’ He calls her.
‘Don’t talk.’
‘I can’t let you do this.’
‘It’s perfectly easy. I walk away and you fuck off, we’ve been at it for centuries.’ She spits. It’s the first time she’s sworn in years, her mo
He stops walking behind her. Buying her the time to speed up, through thick grasses into painful patches of weeds and thistles.
‘You asked me to teach you.’
The thistles stab at her legs.
‘I asked you to help me, there’s a difference.’ She lies.
‘Then I’m going to stand here until you come back.’ There’s desperation there now, he’s afraid to lose her. Trying to reach her, voice never raising. ‘You can’t walk more than a hundred metres away from me.’ She lets out a pained laugh, each step crippling her foot.
It’s not far now. Not far until she can zap herself back to sleep. Justify the small attempt for freedom as one of her episodes. The world is getting slower now. Waltzing, twisting, turning.
‘Missy!’ His voice pierces the air. It doesn’t matter, she can feel the grass around her now, smothering her sprawled body.
There's a cry in the distance, the sound of something hitting the ground then a cacophony of noise. Missy sleeps.
—-
She stirs to a pounding in her head and a corset missing. There’s a bitter ache where her wristband clings but the rest of her body feels loose and free. The air seems warm, like the Vault's intricate heating system. She'd lost consciousness and been carried back to sulk probably. So much for adventures.
'Here comes the chopper to chop off her head.' She mutters under her breath. They'll likely be no visits now for a while, like the time a decade ago with the chair and the teacup. Her irritation at something petty had turned into an excuse to be angry, any excuse to break something. The two years after had gone slowly. Even without even Nardole's tentative mumblings.
When The Doctor had finally come back she made sure to reposition herself in the same space, make it look like she'd died waiting. It didn't work for long but she'd sensed his heart rate spike. 'Don't be stupid Missy.' He'd chided her and sat down on his chair like nothing had happened.
It had even got better for a while in the mid-60s, then she'd lost her sense of time and he'd become distant, glaze-eyed, cold even. Keeping promises was hard. Harder than dying.
The bracelet shakes her back to the present, sending a jolt to the cruel chip in her neck.
'Ngh.’
Right. Time to wake up.
She adjusts her senses to the outside world. Something's off. The silence isn't silent enough. This isn't the Vault at all.
It would have been quiet if it hadn’t been for the buzz of noise around her.
A cluster of voices, they're definitely not in her head. Somewhere in the room- she assumes it's a room- someone is talking. She opens her eyes slowly. The roof above her is a muddy brown, thatched like an old Earth house.
Her body raises itself to a sitting position. She's on a bed. A small crowd of creatures block her view of the outside. They're blurred. Humans?
A few seconds pass and she forgets for a moment who she is before everything occurs to her at once.
‘Where the fuck is my corset.’
A few of the blurs mutter to one another.
Missy tries another approach.
‘If you don’t tell me where my corset is, I’ll skin you. Starting with the scrawny one there.’
The humanoid like creatures blink.
‘I take it back, you’re all disgusting.’ | 702236f25d9247b5ae59a1d639edf50a | ['cc0f61fe54c64921886540adf09134cf'] |
1. because this definitely won’t end badly
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Because the S10 gang definitely had a group chat at some point
> ...and because Missy is primeminister. And a snake.
Doctor Disco created a chat
Doctor Disco changed the name to ‘sunshine and happiness gang’
Doctor Disco added ✨weird mad woman ✨
Doctor Disco added ‘disposable 1’
Doctor Disco renamed themselves The Responsible Adult
weird mad woman: this had better be important
weird mad woman: im watching the one with mcauley culkin in
The Responsible Adult: ????
The Responsible Adult: I’m not sure how you even got that, aren’t you too cynical for Home Alone?
weird mad woman: i resent that accusation
The Responsible Adult: Nardole pick up
disposable 1: w26;’]\\\\(==\\\\\\\
disposable 1: h29oo]]]
disposable 1: lwnm
weird mad woman: do you think he actually knows how to type
disposable 1: [[[[pkjsb
weird mad woman: oh my god
The Responsible Adult: I’m sure he can see what I’m typing. Anyway I thought having somewhere we can all talk would be helpful, especially now Missy has a phone (that she hasn’t smuggled). I’m away for a few days so I can see that you two behave yourselves
weird mad woman: wooo
The Responsible Adult: It’s 1999 so we won’t look suspicious to anyone using a phone but don’t make it too obvious.
weird mad woman: 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
weird mad woman: did I ever tell you how much I love 1999
weird mad woman changed their name to sidewinder
sidewinder: get it
sidewinder: because
The Responsible Adult: Yes
sidewinder: im a snake
disposable 1: n;lllllmjg
sidewinder: nobody ever appreciates me
2nd February 2001
sidewinder: well this chat is dead
7th February 2001
sidewinder: lmao
10th November 2006
sidewinder: hey come downstairs
sidewinder: im on prime-ministers question time
sidewinder: look
sidewinder sent an image
sidewinder: how am I so attractive
(12:36) The Responsible Adult: You haven’t actually spoken yet, this could be okay.
(12:39) The Responsible Adult: I take it back.
disposable 1:arent you ,eant to be in class
sidewinder: stop pinging me
The Responsible Adult: It’s only a pop quiz they don’t mind.
disposable 1: gLad youre taking your job seriously
sidewinder: hey have we got that hyper vodka from last night
sidewinder: take a shot every time I say ‘economic instability’
The Responsible Adult: I’ve sworn off alcohol poisoning since that time on Vega 4.
sidewinder: gOd that was ages ago
sidewinder: i’ve just got into a debate with the prime minister
sidewinder: has anyone got some bleach like urgently
(13:06) The Responsible Adult: It’s over you can come out now.
The Responsible Adult: I was showing my class, apparently you’re a solid 9/10.
sidewinder: im going to fucking choke you
sidewinder: that was a joke if nardole was watching
disposable 1: youre hilarious
sidewinder: tell your class they’ve clearly never actually been outside before soooo
The Responsible Adult: Who needs to go outside when you have entertainment like this?
sidewinder: h a
10th July 2007
sidewinder: hey guys I’m on tv again
sidewinder: come down here come ooonnnnn
disposable 1: haD my fill of genocide for today thankss
sidewinder: ayyy I just shot the president
disposable 1: .
sidewinder: come on
sidewinder: loooook I’m being cool
sidewinder: egg pls this is part of your cultural education
sidewinder: come hither my tiny egg son
sidewinder: ew i take that back i’d never have a son
sidewinder: hello???
sidewinder: honestly this is prime time tv they should pay me for being this entertaining
sidewinder: i give up
sidewinder: bye losers
2. because we can’t sleep
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Missy likes ASMR. Missy likes getting on people’s nerves. Missy also likes screaming, party crashing and getting crazy for Christmas.
23rd November 2008
disposable 1: I can hear you from upstaiRs
disposable 1: what the hell are you doing
sidewinder: recreating the battle of the chromotids
disposable 1: missy I can’t sleep
sidewinder: go watch asmr egg
disposable 1: ??
The Responsible Adult: There should be some sleep patches in the TARDIS.
disposable 1: what’s asmr;\\\
sidewinder: people touch plastic bags and it makes you feel good
sidewinder: then they say stuff that makes you not want to stab somebody
disposable 1: why would someone video themselves touching plastic bags
sidewinder: i don’t know maybe it’s to stop them murdering people
sidewinder:
disposable 1: hey why am i called disposable 1
disposable 1: Doctor how do i change it
The Responsible Adult: Wait There, I’ll come down and show you just in case you do something stupid.
disposable 1: never,ind found it
‘disposable 1’ deleted the chat
‘The Responsible Adult’ created a chat
‘The Responsible Adult’ changed the name to ‘never let Nardole do anything’
The Responsible Adult added 🐍 sidewinder 🐍
The Responsible Adult added ‘disposable 1’
‘disposable 1’ changed their name to ‘permanently exhausted’
(1:06) permanently exhausted: i was handling it
The Responsible Adult: It looked like it.
permanently exhausted: why are you screaming missy
sidewinder: im re-enacting the bit where I get stabbed through the hearts
sidewinder: ahskdlljshsbdbcmnskwdjiokmrfi
sidewinder: hgsjslalpakdhsjlam
sidewinder: (I’m keyboard smashing for dramatic effect)
sidewinder: okay im done
The Responsible Adult: Of course. Good to clarify. Thanks.
24th December 2008
sidewinder: nobody ever responds to my messages where are you
permanently exhausted: university cbristmas party and before you say anything no youre not allowed
sidewinder: rude of you to assume I want to be invited
permanently exhausted: rude of you to gatecrash the last one with a giant inflatable tiger
permanently exhausted: we’re still finding bits of him in the carpet
The Responsible Adult: Mr Claws was the worst pun you could have got out of that situation.
sidewinder: you’re under the impression that I take your opinion into consideration
permanently exhausted: nobody likes your puns they’re just too scared to admit it
sidewinder: why do I waste my time here
sidewinder: im going to sleep
The Responsible Adult: Phew.
permanently exhausted: thank the gods |
cb9dd22ddec348119afbd808e8bbfa30 | ['cc171a5e233244cb844ab36c2529ddeb'] | “John, I'm going to do it now.” God, that sounded hackneyed. The basket is free from the bicyclist. I watch as he rides away quick. Why? Did he steal something? Did Moriarty somehow find out and sabotage even this? I find my eyes flicking back at his corpse. My shoes move on the ledge. A slight grit under them. Slippery. Someone could fall from here quite easily. A breeze catches me, making me momentarily lose my balance, threatening to go over the edge. I feel a moment of virtigo, the wind brushing past my face and catching on my coat adds to the illusion. I gather myself and stand straight on the ledge and look down.
John is in the middle of the street. The man on the bicycle doesn't see him in time. A glancing blow. No! John has to see! He has to report! Nobody else will do! Nobody else has the weight behind their opinion.
“John! John! Are you alright?” Stupid, Sherlock. Suicidal men don't ask. I watched in horror as my carefully-staged set-piece was falling apart before me.
“Sher…” John has gotten his phone. He's unsteady. “But. I can see…”
The ambulance arrives just in time. Which is to say, the wrong time, as I haven't thrown myself off the roof yet. The idiots are loading someone on the gurney. I have to grind my teeth to stop from shouting at them.
I've given up on this plan. It's all gone wrong. Damage control. “John. Listen to me. You need to get out of here.” No subterfuge now.
“Sherlock… I'll be right there.” John isn't even looking at me anymore. I can almost feel the itch of a crosshaired scope settling in on my neck.
I can hear him through the phone talking to the crowd. “I'm a doctor. Let me through. Let me through please.”
Some are my plants. They are sticking to the job, getting in the way. Worse and worse.
“John. Please listen. You need to get out of here. Now.”
He raises the phone to his ear. His breathing is unsteady. “Sherlock?” The first few pips of the rain that it has been threatening all morning begin to ping off the rooftop around me. Of all the inappropriate times. My phone bleeps that it is low on power.
“John. I don't have much time. You must get everyone. Molly. Mrs. Hudson. Get them to Lestrade. It may be their only chance. Men are coming for them, John.”
“Sherlock, how are you talking to me..?” God. He must have hit his head when he was knocked over. He sounds confused. More confused then usual.
“John. Focus. There are more important things right now. Moriarty's men. Are coming for you all. Get them to someplace safe. I will try and… John… are you listening?”
The phone beeped again. Now that it started, the rain began in earnest. Already the outer edges of London were graying away, lost in the distance. Even the traffic was muffled in the steady sound.
“Sherlock. They put you in the ambulance.” His voice was weary, cracked, scared.
“Nonsense. Now get out of the rain. Get Molly. And Mrs. Hudson. Get my files and get to Lestrade. The police might be able to protect you.” I hoped they would. Or at least not screw things up too much. The rain was coming down hard now. The sky darkened. This would have been perfect if everything hadn't gone to pot.
“Rain? Police? Sherlock… it's not raining…” John's voice was just a whisper as my phone slowly ticked off the last of it's power. He was kneeling in the middle of the street. Kneeling!
I had gone from perfectly timed orchestration to sudden urgency, and worst of all was that John was simply not getting the point. He didn't even notice the downpour I almost wanted to run down there just to boot him into action.
“John. Do this.” I said trying to remain clear and concise when all I wanted to do was scream at him “This last thing. Go. Now.”
“Sherlock?” It was raining hard enough now that it threatened to drown out the tinny little voice in my ear. “Just. Keep talking to me. Don't stop. I'm going to follow the ambulance.” He waved for a taxi. “Wait… where are they taking you?”
I couldn't believe the man! Did he not understand anything? “No! Not the ambulance! The people, John, the people! Save our people!”
A black cab pulled over, and John held the door open for an older lady, mid-sixties. Affluent, but not wealthy. She must have been heading into one of the nearby buildings, as she didn't even bother to open her umbrella. She strode off in a neat clip and John got in the cab. I could hear him tell the driver to go to the nearest hospital.
“John! Forget the bloody ambulance!”
“Sherlock.” I could barely hear between the rain and the dying battery. “I'm on my way.” In seconds he was out of sight. And I was standing drenched on a rooftop. I wonder why they hadn't taken their shot yet.
John couldn't do this. I would have to. I lept down from the ledge and walked to the door, making plans. My phone gave off another pitiful bleep. So I stuffed it into a pocket and began planning. First, I would need to disappear from this building.
I admit it. I was so engrossed in my planning, I walked to the wrong part of the roof. The door was on the other side. Sturdy, security door. Strange they choose to paint it that colour. Wait… Wasn't it on the other side of the roof? Surely I walked straight from it to Moriarty and the ledge? A faint memory… the wind blowing past me, a moment of vertigo. The basket in the wrong place… | dd6fa59df63e41e5ba9dc3c3f4b22797 | ['cc171a5e233244cb844ab36c2529ddeb'] | Another sound came through the wall. Along with a sound suspiciously like broken glass and a moan of pain. The doctor in John took over and before he even realized it, he was out the door and knocking on 221a.
There was a sound, a shuffling, and more sounds of broken pottery. He tried the doorknob, it was locked. There was another moan and something that sounded like liquid. He hesitated only a moment before he kicked the door, sending it flying inward.
The layout of this side of the duplex was a mirror image of his own. So it only took a moment to get to the study. This one was made into a comfortable television room, with floppy couches and a low table. Near the fireplace was a ladder, and under the ladder was Isabel, holding her head while sitting in the blue and white shards of what was expediently a quite expensive vase. A framed painting lay nearby as did a hammer. A bright trickle of blood trickled from under where she held her hand to her forehead.
John crouched by her side.
"I.. I was just..."
"Shh-shh-shh..." he whispered. He gently took ahold of her wrist and pulled the hand away. She had a small cut on her forehead. Missed the Temporal Arteritis by a few centimeters. She'd bleed, but she was going to be okay.
He took her to the kitchen and sat her at the table. He grabbed a roll of paper towels on one of those spindle-things (what do you call those anyway?) on the counter, and wetted a few, before he settled down next to her, to clean the cut. "Don't worry." he said in his doctor-voice "I'm a doctor."
"I just..."
"It's fine." he said, deliberately not thinking of the puppet back in his own flat. "Fix this first, then we can worry about everything else."
"I just... feel so clumsy."
"Happens to the best of us. I once even tripped on a sidewalk."
That got a flash of an upturn on the corner of her lip, so while carefully pushing a dry towel to her head, he continued. "It's true. Lovely spring day, dry as a bone. I'm walking the sidewalk downtown, trying to find a taxi. I'm looking around, wave one down, and he actually pulls over. I start to run to run to take advantage of my good fortune, only somehow didn't step right. Ended up face first into the sidewalk. Made a sound I think they heard it on the top of Heron Tower. By the time I got up, a little old lady had taken my cab." He took her hand and guided it to the towel on her forehead. "Hold that. I've never trusted little old ladies since then."
She actually smiled at that "They can be viscious. Those little old ladies."
They sat in quiet for a moment. "Well, I should go. I think I broke your door. I'll be by tomorrow to see if I can fix it."
She reached out and touched his wrist with just a fingertip. "That... would be nice. Thank you."
* * *
The flat was in darkness when he returned.
"I'm home!" he called out, and felt immediately silly for it. There was no responce. He looked through the rooms as he entered. The kitchen off to the left was quiet and still. The sitting room to the right. The top of the stairs was dark and still.
Morariti lay where John dropped him on the floor. His blank face stared at him. Scarred eye accusing.
"She fell. Hurt herself. I bandaged up her head."
No responce.
John crossed over and picked him up. The scar wasn't too bad. Barely noticeable, really. He put his tools away, and set Moriarti on the shelf. Then he turned to leave. His hand was on the switch when Moriarti spoke.
_You smell like whore._
John paused a moment, then turned off the light and headed to the stairs. Halfway up them he realized he had already started planning on the new puppet he would start in the morning.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Under construction
John set down the toolbox with a satisfying rattle. "You are lucky. I've been putting so much together next door, I've got just about everything you'd need." |
7ab85bae704b4f25b3869818ee33b74d | ['cc42885dd509498fb6c5c2f81d993779'] | "Dear, there's someone here who'd like to speak with you." The bluenette feigned a surprised look and peered around her mother to spot Adrien again, her wild dream instantly smacking her in the face just from the sight of him this time. Suddenly she felt that fixing her gaze on him was the worst idea yet, and instantly looked away as she cleared her throat and gently set down the measuring cups she was working with. Putting on a smile, she turned to her mother and nodded.
"Thank you, mamon." Pressing a quick kiss to her mother's cheek, she then bounded around her to go towards the counter, suddenly each step feeling like a weight tied around her ankles. Adrien was staring right at her, causing her heart to thump wildly and her stomach to do flips in a way that dangerously resembled that of a butterfly's wings fluttering rapidly.
"H-hi, Marinette." She ogled him for a moment, as she came to a stop, clasping her hands together and folding them over the countertop. Did Adrien Agreste just _stutter?_
"Hello. H-how, uhm... how are you? You weren't in school today..." she trailed off towards the end, a somewhat worried look etching into her soft features.
"Oh... yeah, about that..." Why did he look so nervous? He was doing that thing where he would rub his neck as if he had a reason to be on edge. Suddenly a lilted laugh left him, airy and unsure as his gaze shifted from the floor before coming back up to meet her bluebell gaze. "I, uhm... wasn't feeling so well from last night... you know... but... I wanted to see you." Then that adorably sheepish smile was back in place and she couldn't help but feel the warmth returning into her face tenfold.
"F-from last night..?" She sounded uncertain, unbelieving of what she had a feeling he was about to confirm.
"Y-yeah, you know... I was... a bit intoxicated?" Adrien made a gesture with his hand, swirling his pointer finger toward his head like he was feeling loopy then chuckled mostly to himself as his gaze got a little lost in whatever he was thinking about.
"R-right, s-so then..."
"So then..." They both went silent, meeting the other's eyes but having a hard time with forming the words necessary to break the tension. "Uhm... I- I know that I... wasn't exactly... with it-"
"Huh?"
"All there- I wasn't all there." He laughed again; a little more relaxed this time.
"Oh, r-right..." There was still a chance that she had been dreaming the rest of it, but that would depend on what he chose to say next. The look on his face was clearly evidence of something needing to be said but unsure of how to say it.
"Look, I don't want to drag this out, so... I hope we can carry on as usual and this won't put any... strain on our friendship..."
"Uhm... you mean..." His brows furrowed as he looked her over cautiously, the look in her eyes showing a revelation of emotions as if she had just discovered space and it was utterly horrifying. "It... wasn't in my head...?"
"What?"
"I didn't d-dream all of that?" All he could do was stare at her helpless expression as the color creeped up to the tips of her ears. It was oddly satisfying. He chose that moment to break down into a fit of laughter, quickly shooting his hand up to cover his mouth in hopes it would muffle it; he must've been to late though, as her parents were already watching the two from the back.
"What? No! That actually happened," then he leaned in with a smug look on his face and lowered his voice, " _purrincess_." The mortified look on her face was priceless, causing him to guffaw in delight and push his weight onto the counter in attempt to balance himself upward. "Marinette, I was serious about what I said."
"Wh-wha-" Clearly she wasn't in any shape to form coherent sentences right now.
"I know. I know that you're rather... _fond_ of me... and my... _pawsitively_ magical voice," Adrien couldn't help the snort that came out as she seemed to wither away into a white sheet of paper from how pale she became in that moment; besides the burning coral of her cheeks of course. Then he was leaning in again, a genuine smile lighting his features now.
"I'm _fond_ of you to." He reiterated in the sweetest tone he could possibly muster up, wanting to get the point across right then and there.
"I-"
"How about a date?"
"What?"
"You know, a date? A proper one, dinner and a movie kind of date..?" He looked hopeful, taking a moment to worry his lip as Marinette's face twisted into a look of disbelief. "And uhm... maybe we can end it the same way as last night." Flashing a pearly white smile, Adrien couldn't help but accompany it with a devious wink. He was taking joy in the way Marinette stared on as if she were stuck between wanting to float above the clouds or allow herself to get dragged beneath the sea floor.
"Wh-when?"
"Friday night?" All she could do was reciprocate with a quick nod, pulling his smile into a wide grin in response. "Great. But maybe this next time we can throw out the phones and the roleplaying?" The bluenette was pretty sure she was about to experience what heart failure felt like.
"Y-you mean-"
"You know what I mean."
"I- well-"
Marinette cut herself off quickly as she gave him one more look over and it all seemed to click into place right in that moment. She decidedly crossed her arms over her chest and sent him quite the glare.
"How much of that was actually _'roleplaying'?_ " It was muttered under her breath just loud enough for him to hear it, but keeping any other prying listeners at bay. | a6ae7e088f03483c94852be417d30e5b | ['cc42885dd509498fb6c5c2f81d993779'] | "So then? What're my... other options?" Now that she thought about it, Marinette wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting at her computer; she must've fallen asleep. It was the only logical explanation for... whatever this was.
"How about... a cuddle buddy?" He had said it so cutely, it left a fluttering sensation pooling in the pit of her stomach.
"A cuddle buddy..?"
"Did you want more?" This was bordering insanity, reaching dangerously close to unexplored territory. What was she supposed to say to that?
"M-more?"
"Yeah... More." There was that breathlessly attractive tone of his again.
"C-care to elaborate?" Alarms were going off in her head, a heavy ringing in her ears as her heart thumped dangerously fast in her rib cage. She had no idea what he would say but there was a part of her desperately curious as to what it would be.
"How about a _fuck buddy_?" Her brain must have short circuited then, almost certain he broke her ability to form coherent sentences as the words wouldn't process from point A to point B. Gaping like a fish out of water, she sat there in silence, not realizing she had been holding her breath until her brain processed that she needed to _breath out_. "To much?" Clearly she was taking to long to respond, the sultry tone to his voice wavering in his question.
"I- Th-that's very... B-bold of you..."
"So you're not going to deny you're _interested~?_ "
"Are you drunk?" He laughed.
" _Aha_... I was waiting for that question to come up..." A soft hum reverberated through the line following his humored assumption, then more shifting closely resembling the sound of shuffled fabric. Marinette knit her brows together as she bit her lip, suddenly fascinated by the sensual hum more than anything as her thighs subconsciously squeezed together.
"W-well then..?"
"Let's just say... Nino likes to party hard. Even when it's only the two of us." There was that small giggle again, only this time she was certain she didn't imagine it.
"So, you are..."
"Drunk? Yeah."
"Adrien..." She let out a defeated sigh, relaxing into her chair a bit. "You should be resting."
"I am resting. I feel quite relaxed, thank you."
" _Sleeping_. You should be sleeping." She corrected.
"I'm not tired..." The childish tone was _almost_ endearing, if it weren't for his previously dirty-minded outspoken thoughts. _Speaking of which,_
"You're not yourself right now... You need to sleep." Marinette spoke gently, as if handling a stubborn pet. Almost as if she were handling a certain black leather-clad cat.
"I am _totally_ myself! What's that thing they say about drinking? You just act more freely, right? Do the things you'd want to do that you don't have the guts to do when you're sober? Did that make sense?" Adrien trailed off towards the end, sounding confused by his own statement momentarily. "Anyways, I'm _feline_ great! And I'm _not_ tired! So _you're_ going to keep me company tonight!"
As excitable as he sounded, she knew it was within his best interest to be sleeping right about now. A small frown formed on her lips, having the feeling that Adrien was going to regret his actions in the morning when he was nursing a hangover and the possibility of remembering all that he had propositioned her for. What she wasn't sure of though, was who was going to be more embarrassed by that sentiment.
"You... You do realize you keep cracking cat puns, right?" That seemed to shut him up- if only for a split second.
"Am I? Hm, I can't seem to _scratch the itch_ not to." An audible groan left her as she rolled her eyes, sinking back into her chair at her partner's ridiculous antics- then it hit her. Her _partner_.
"Chat?"
"Yeah?" Suddenly her eyes were bugging out as far as they'd go, frozen in her spot. She _knew_ he'd sounded familiar when he'd put on that sleazy little tone accompanying his every cat pun.
"Chat Noir?" Her voice was shaky now, his response sounding confused at first until he cut himself off short,
"I just said- oh." There was a strained silence hanging in the balance that seemed to last an eternity, but in retrospect was only about twenty seconds until he spoke up once more; this time sounding more like Chat Noir than he had throughout the entire conversation. It sent a shiver down her spine.
"Oh, I get it... Do you want to role play~? _God, that's hot, Marinette..._ "
Okay, he had sounded like Chat, but this was indeed Adrien. _Adrien Agreste_ was sounding rather _turned on_ and quite interested in whatever he thought she meant. Or was this his cover? Maybe he wasn't drunk enough to just give himself away- or her assumptions had been wrong? He just sounded _so much_ like Chat. And oddly enough, that thought didn't bother her. If anything she was feeling more and more intrigued to see where this would go.
"You really are drunk..." Dare she say, she had just sounded a bit breathless herself? "This is a bad idea..."
" _Meowch_ , don't push me away now, _purrincess_... We're just getting started." Somehow his words had settled hot coals to her core, sending a flare of heat throughout her body and pushing her thighs together as she had done earlier; only the feeling was so much stronger now.
"It's... s-still a bad idea..."
"Why's that? If you're worried about my _secret identity_ , rest assured it'll stay between us. Isn't that right?" _Oh_ , he was _really_ laying it on thick. Adrien was clearly going to go all out with this and she helplessly had to go along with it. She knew somehow that if she didn't, she'd regret having missed out on the opportunity. Which made her feel a bit guilty, almost selfish. |
8f195a3c9df6445491816aa0a12ec180 | ['cc4fa199c71549b79066ede964abdd93'] | Mrs. Jensen kept talking about everything she had thought out already. Justin just smiled; half listening, half thinking about lucky he was, to have these people around him. His whole world would change, in a good way this time.
* * *
A little later he was sitting on Clay’s bed, reading one of Clay’s many Alien Killer Robot comic books. He actually really likes them. He wasn’t the kind of person to like this kind of stuff. Well, he used to be the kind of person who wouldn’t like this kind of stuff. Even worse, he used to be the kind of person who’d make fun of anyone who read these kinds of comics. He used to be the person who’d think that he was above everyone that wasn’t an athlete. Far above people like Clay. A guy he’d now look up to. He relied on Clay, he saw Clay as some kind of leader, a person he would be loyal to.
Previously it was Bryce who he was loyal to, the person he could – correction; he thought he could trust. Bryce had always been there for him, from the moment they met. Bryce stood up for him, even though Justin was a brat towards every kid there. Justin was a little aggressive as a kid. He would call other kids swear words all the time; words he shouldn’t have known at his age. He picked fights all the time.
Why he did that? They bullied him. All the fights and swearing were a reaction to the bullying of the other kids. They made fun of him for often wearing the same clothes, for smelling, for not bringing lunch with him, for often having bruises, for not coming to school trips and probably for a lot more.
The truth was, he was used to people swearing at home. His mom and her boyfriends would do it all the time. He automatically started doing it too, not long after he learned talking.
Most of the time he wore the same clothes because he barely had clothes. They didn’t have money for that, just like they didn’t have money to pay for the school trips or for anything else. They barely washed clothes or showered because water costs money, and they tried to spare as much money as they could.
Most of the time he couldn’t take lunch to school, because then they wouldn’t have enough food for dinner. If they even had food for dinner. And for the bruises… He didn’t want to think about that.
Bryce had bought him everything: food, clothes, stuff for school. He even got his dad to bail his mother out of jail when she was arrested for possession. If Bryce hadn’t done that, Justin might’ve been put in foster care. Now he thought about it, it might’ve been better if he was put in foster care. He would have to go to another school and never see his mom or his friends again, but maybe a nice family would’ve taken care of him, and he’d grow up to be a lot less fucked up than he was now.
But on the other side, he had heard a lot of bad things about foster care. Kids get tossed around between families, a lot of families only do it for the money and those kids are often screwed when they turn 18. Besides, even if had gone to a nice family, would it still be better? What if everything would only get worse for his mom if he wasn’t there? What if one of her boyfriends he had always defended her from, would have heavily injured her, or worse; killed her? What if she’d been so upset that she lost custody over him, that she would do something to herself?
He remembered the conversation they had, a day before he left the house to run away for the second time. She told him that she had missed him. Yet, he left her alone. Again. Probably forever this time.
“Honey, you can run as far as you want, you’ll never get away from who you are!”
When she said that, he saw it as a failed attempt at getting him to stay. He hadn’t taken it seriously. But the more he thought about it, he realized that she had a point. He will never escape from who he is. He thought he would be fine and just stay clean, forget his past, be a good son to his soon-to-be parents and just a good person in general. He thought it would be easy.
In juvie, it was very easy to get drugs. It was full of teenagers with drug problems there, and there were always a few people who were able to smuggle drugs in. He managed to stay clean for like a week, but then gave in. He shot up some heroin almost every day. It made it easier to go through his time in juvie. He said yes to getting adopted, but didn’t tell the Jensens about his relapse. Even when Clay told him why he was fine with a fucked up person like Justin getting adopted after being hesitant about it first, he mentioned one of the reasons was him being clean. Justin should’ve been honest. He should’ve told Clay that he wasn’t clean anymore, but he just couldn’t. He was afraid of what his and his parents’ reaction would be. The last time he found out that Justin had been using heroin again, the family got into a huge fight. He wouldn’t want to be responsible for that again, even if they told him a thousand times that it wasn’t his fault.
“…you’ll never get away from who you are.” | 8d6f786d5b074403a200fedebd1413f6 | ['cc4fa199c71549b79066ede964abdd93'] | “And watch your language.” Lainie added.
The boys stopped their conversation about the duck legs and kept quiet about the rest of the menu. A few minutes later a waiter arrived at their table.
“What would you like to drink?” He asked, holding his notepad with orders.
“I would like to have the Louisville Champagne Cocktail, sir.” The youngest boy told the waiter. “And I would like the Alempue Pro Cabernet Sauvigno.” Clay had trouble pronouncing it, and had never drank it before, but knew that it was some sort of wine.
“No, we can’t allow that. Both of you should pick something else.”
“But literally everyone is drinking wine here,” Clay defended his choice against his father. “it’s weird if we don’t order alcohol too!”
“Since when do you care about being weird, you’re always weird.”
“Justin you-” Clay was ready to snap back at his step-brother, but before he got the chance to, his mother made it clear that she agreed with her husband.
“No, neither of you is gonna drink any alcohol tonight.”
The boys let out a sigh and started looking at the menu again. The waiter was still awkwardly waiting for Clay and Justin’s order. Matt realized and looked up.
“Both of them will just take water, sir.”
The boys were ready to protest, but the look Matt gave them kept them still.
“Excellent choice. What would you like to drink, sir?” Matt and Lainie passed their orders to the man. The waiter told them that he would be back in a few minutes to bring their drinks and take the rest of their order.
Lainie decided to start a conversation with her foster child, who seemed nervous about getting looks from people for his… fashion choice.
“So… You’ve never been to a restaurant before, Justin?”
“Well obviously.” Clay replied, before Justin got the chance to say something.
“Clay, I asked Justin.”
“No, I haven’t. It’s not too bad so far, I guess…”
“We haven’t even eaten, let out drank anything yet, how can you already give an opinion?”
“I said ‘so far’, and I didn’t say I was talking about the food? Stop being like that!”
“Like what? You said something stupid, and I just…”
Clay and Justin continued bickering. Their parents exchanged looks and let out a deep sigh. This was going to be a long evening.
* * *
Everyone’s food and drinks had arrived. Clay and Matt had some sort of beef with mushrooms, Justin tagliatelle pasta with lobster and Lainie had chicken with potatoes and onions. Now, Justin didn’t really know table manners, but also didn’t care enough to find out what they are.
“Get your elbows off the table. Also, don’t wipe your hands off your pants, there’s a napkin right next to you. Don’t you have any manners?”
“Jeez, calm down. I’m already taking them off.”
While Justin removed his elbows from the table, his arm hit one of the glasses of water. It fell over and all the water spilled over Clay.
“FUCK!” Half of the people in the restaurant, though it felt like the whole restaurant, turned around, giving the family annoyed looks. Some of them were muttering, while still staring at the family. Lainie and Matt looked at their sons with their eyes wide open.
“Sorry… At least it was just water.” Because of Clay’s angry look, Justin realized that it was better to keep his mouth shut.
A lot of water had dripped from Clay’s lap to the floor. Justin grabbed his napkin and attempted to dry the floor, without much luck. A few staff members had come over at the table.
“No sir, we will clean this up. Something like this can happen anytime.” Even though the man’s words were nice, the tone of his voice and the look on his face made it clear that he didn’t mean any of it. Nobody said anything anymore and tried to quietly continue their dinner while the staff members were cleaning the floor.
* * *
Everyone in the restaurant seemed relieved when the family left, but the family was the most relieved of all. They had decided to skip dessert and just leave a bit earlier than originally planned. They left the place in high-speed. When everyone was back in the car, they all let out a loud sigh.
“Well, that was… fun?” Matt slowly said.
“Yeah. Fun,” Clay agreed with his father.
“Shall we just stay home for the next couple, uhm, years?”
And that was the one thing everyone agreed on that night.
2. The Basketball Game
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Justin decides to play basketball again, and his new family is very supportive.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This takes place shortly after Clay and Justin's senior year starts.
“I need to have this one!“ Clay was just telling his family about a new robot toy that is going to be released within a few days. The whole family was in the living room. The parents of the family were doing their own thing; Matt was reading a newspaper and Lainie a book about living healthy. They barely listened to Clay. Clay didn’t care, he kept talking about the robot and showed Justin a flyer about the toy. Justin’s eyes fell on the price that was at the bottom of the flyer.
“You’re gonna pay 20 dollars for some useless toy? Don’t you have six of those already?”
“It is not some useless toy! It’s the one and only Afoyoid 3.0!” He said as it was the most obvious thing ever. “Oh, and I have seven robots from this collection. Not six.”
“It just sounds weird to me, why would anybody want to pay 20 dollars for that? Maybe I don’t understand it because it’s not my thing.”
“You just don’t get it.” |
c5ccf031f2ac469c86ea9ddca9d83905 | ['cc535791ec9b425f88183bbc11eb43ec'] | __“Kiss?” He heard Pallas say, and the word fell full from his mouth, heavy with his accent and Lazar wanted to hear him speak more. He nodded and Pallas pressed his lips against his, sweet and flustered. Lazar cupped his cheek and wondered if his stubble was scratchy._ _
__“You are very pretty.” Lazar said. “I mean, not like… pretty as a girl. Pretty as in... as in attractive. As a man.”_ _
__Pallas raised an eyebrow and pecked his lips again._ _
__“Pretty?” He chuckled. He knew that word._ _
__Lazar smiled._ _
__
__The week ended sooner than he had expected. Seven days of subtle flirting while Pallas was at work and not so subtle after his hours came to an end; seven days of feeling like he was reliving his first crush, filled with hand in hand walks on the beach, lazy kisses, horrible grammar and dreamy, whiskey colored eyes.
He fell in love with Pallas’ eyes. They weren’t a piercing blue, or a shocking green, they were calm and gentle. They didn’t strike your heart, they melted their way into your soul._ _
__He walked towards the reception, dragging his luggage behind him. He had to give the key back._ _
__“Leave?” Pallas asked._ _
__“Yes.” Lazar sighed, wondering, for the hundred time, if he could prolong his stay._ _
__Pallas nodded and wrote something on a yellow sticky note. “Call.” He said. “Number.” He pointed at the paper and smiled. “Yes?”_ _
__“Certainly. Yes. Of course.” He took the note and hid it carefully in his wallet. “You have to visit me…. Come over. Visit.”_ _
__“Visit?”_ _
__Lazar touched his own chest. “Home.” He tapped his finger against it. “My home.”_ _
__“Yes! Visit.” He laughed and nodded._ _
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you bunches for reading!!! <333 I hope you enjoyed it! If so, don't be shy and let me know, every comment makes my day <3
> I'm planning on writing a second part to this. After all, Pallas needs to visit his new boyfriend <3 *cough* it might be steamy *cough* | 0d389c7599c94c6b8fe0b82c002df451 | ['cc535791ec9b425f88183bbc11eb43ec'] | He clumsily stretched over Pallas’ body so he could reach the nightstand. He opened the drawer and fished out a bottle of lube.
“It’s cherry.” Pallas took notice in a half amused voice, eyeing half yellow half red packaging.
“You got something against cherries?” Lazar’s spoke deeper than usual; he was too turned on to notice, but Pallas did. He bit his lower lip and waited. Lazar opened the bottle and poured some of the lube on his fingers.
“No. I love cherries.” Best sex talk he ever had. “Cheeky cherry.” He read the label and Lazar laughed.
“They were out of Saucy Strawberry.” Lazar parted Pallas’ knees and pressed a finger against his hole. He pushed it gently, wanting to drag out every reaction. Pallas inhaled through his nose and parted his lips. His moan came out as a long, pleasant sigh. He decided he liked how it sounded and wanted to hear more. It did _things_ to him.
He never expected to want to be knuckles deep into someone until then. It had always been a prelude to the actual fucking, but now he found himself enjoying making Pallas squirm under him. He was arching his body, biting his lip, tugging at Lazar’s hair in a sorry attempt to make him do more. Lazar did more. He added a second finger. Pallas’ face was a mixture of sexual frustration and pleasure. He was doing his best to rock his body against Lazar’s fingers, but Lazar didn’t let him. He held him still with one steady hand on his hip and smiled at him.
“You want me?” Lazar teased, expecting a blush, a stutter, a shy nod. Pallas shoved his hands in his own air and arched his back. He moaned like a damn porn star and Lazar almost came from that alone. That was enough.
“ _Christ_ , Pallas!” He fumbled towards the condoms. He opened a pack, took one out and ripped the plastic wrap with his teeth. He was a bit desperate by now, but he was trying to play it cool. Breaking the condom did not denote _cool_. Pallas smiled and took a second one. He opened it and rolled it over Lazar’s member. All good, all good. Lazar moved himself back between Pallas’ legs and positioned himself.
“Don’t tease.” Pallas muttered, glancing at him through half closed eyes. Lazar was over the teasing part, his whole body ached for more. Pallas wrapped his legs around him and pushed his heel into Lazar’s back, pulling him closer. Lazar thrusted with a low, guttural moan. He had to mentally go through the periodic to keep himself from orgasming right then and there. He couldn’t remember most of it.
Lazar managed to find a rhythm and allowed himself to just _feel._ Time seemed to cease to exist, Pallas was tight around him, his trimmed nails were digging in his back, his mouth found its’ way to the crook of his neck and he was biting and licking.
Pallas was tugging and pulling him closer as if he was doing his best to merge their bodies together. He pressed his mouth against Lazar’s ear; hot and shaky breath that made Lazar weak in the knees, and whispered something he couldn’t make out. His voice came out raspy and pleading and Lazar gulped because he was close. Pallas wasn’t helping him keep it up either. A couple of thrusts more and he came, pressing his forehead into Pallas’ neck.
Pallas whined. “Nooo, no, don’t stop.” Lazar was panting, he lifted his head to look at him.
“I’m not. Shh. I’m not leaving you.” He muttered and kissed him. He was at a loss for words, he wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked, all ravished and flushed and needy. But he wasn’t good with words. He was more of a wolf whistled kind of guy. He would’ve done that, but whistling seemed mighty hard. And he couldn’t find the right phrases to tell him that in that moment the world was just that room with the two of them in it, and being with him didn’t feel like _fucking_ , it felt more intimate and lovely and God, how do you ask someone to move in with you without sounding like a creep? He remembered something he read a while ago, maybe on Pinterest, or Twitter, or Tumblr, his memory was foggy. _Brown eyes are just brown eyes until you love somebody with brown eyes._ And fuck if that wasn’t true. So instead of going on a poetic rampage he looked at him appreciatively and said “Damn, you’re fucking hot.”
“You’re an inspiration to all romantics.” Pallas stretched under him. “Now don’t be selfish and make me cum too.”
Lazar puffed through his nose and reached down between Pallas thighs with his hand. “Finger ok with you?” He asked, because it seemed that neither of them was the romantic sort. Which was fine. Perfect actually. Pallas spread his legs for him and nodded.
“Fuck me already.”
“I’m making love to you, you ass.”
“Make love to me already!”
Lazar couldn’t help a chuckle and pushed his fingers inside. Pallas moaned and arched, his toes curled in the sheets. “Add more.” He muttered and Lazar did as he was told. He finger fucked – finger made loved – to him until Pallas threw his head back into the pillow and gripped onto the blankets and came with a moan. Lazar went through two orgasms in less than half an hour, but damn, that moan made his dick twitch again.
He kissed Pallas all over the face. “You’re very pretty.” He muttered, meaning every word.
“You’re very handsome.” Pallas responded. He pushed himself up and left the room. Lazar was confused until he saw him return with the box of pizza.
“What’s with the garlic sauce anyway?” Lazar asked, watching him sit on the bed with the food.
“It’s for the crust.” Pallas explained and picked up a spice. “Oh, you know what this is?”
“Ugh…post sex food?” He knew about the whole post sex smoking, but pizza seemed like it was a bit more enjoyable.
“Pizza and chill.” Pallas said, proud of himself.
Lazar looked at him for a second before he started laughing. Fuck if they weren’t meant for each other.
“Let’s do this again tomorrow.”
“Breakfast and chill.” Pallas offered and yes, yes, yes, Lazar was on board.
**Author's Note:**
> Hello~~~ Thank you for reading! I hope that you liked it or found it even a little entertaining. Please let me know your thoughts <3 |
34b1d28943984982be80a930bc60af4c | ['cc5b44bc76c146b599c76c84c62a5cb9'] | Odile touched Iris’s face, but then quickly drew back. Iris crumpled to the ground, choking.
Iris’s face, where it had been resting on Odile’s neck was red and blistered. As she looked, a swollen, yellow blister formed below her sister’s ear.
“Oh,” Odile breathed. “Oh.”
Odile shut the door and locked it.
She closed her eyes against the sound of her sister from the other side of the door. Her breaths stuttered in her chest and she counted.
‘2...2...4...5...3...5...10…10...’ Her sister had finally stopped coughing.
“Odile? Odile, open the door! Open it! Now!”
Odile didn’t answer. She rested her head against the door and just breathed.
**Author's Note:**
> Heyyy I hope you like this. Drop me a kudos! | 7b8b51dfdbaa44bfafac94ff1e4af3dc | ['cc5b44bc76c146b599c76c84c62a5cb9'] | “Curse?” Odile asked. She looked down at her hands. They looked the same as before. She didn’t feel any different. She hadn’t noticed any change in the atmosphere.
The girl looked away, her arms entwined behind her. “Maybe your sister did get to me. Remember this last night. Remember that I gave it to you. Good night.”
The girl walked out of Odile’s bedroom and closed the door.
~~~~
Perhaps it was part of the curse, but Odile slept deeply and dreamlessly that night. She woke up a few hours after sunrise, as she normally did, when the air was still misty and cool.
Things were normal as far as she could see. Her skin was all still on her body. Her head still had hair. She could see and hear and walk. She wasn’t extraordinarily tiny or extremely large.
She pressed her back into the quilted leather bed frame, her knees up under the sheets. Last night hadn’t been a dream, she knew that must. Before anything else, she trusted her mind.
A slow cold feeling washed over her. What if that was the curse? Her slowly losing her mind or her memory or her intelligence? Slowly becoming dumber and dumber until she was a brain dead? She’d never realize it until it was too late to retain anything useful.
She pressed a hand against her mouth, forcefully breathing through her nose. There was no need, or time, to lose her head. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if there was no curse at all and this was all just to work her into a lather, forevering doubting herself.
She threw the covers back and stepped out of bed. Until she showed symptoms, she would declare herself curseless.
She stood, taking slow deep breaths. She should go to town today. Nora would know where her sister was, or at least what to do for Odile. It technically was her fault, after all.
Odile blinked a few times. There was a white haze growing in front of her eyes. She fanned her hand violently, hoping it was the air and not her eyes.
It wasn’t.
There was smoke misting up in front of her for some reason, but it didn’t smell like smoke. It didn’t smell like anything.
She looked down. The smoke was curling up in small, but thick white billows from under her bare feet.
She jumped back, tumbling onto the bed, but she wasn’t standing on anything.
She stretched her leg up, and the smoke seemed to be seeping from the very pores of her feet.
So not curseless apparently, though she couldn’t decipher what the purpose of the smoke was.
There was more smoke appearing, now misting up through her pajama pants and shirt. Tentatively she inhaled, then breathed in deeper. Still scentless, and it didn’t choke her. It was like steam. She stuck her tongue out. No taste, obvious considering that it was scentless, though it did condense a little against her tongue. It didn’t hurt either.
Was she dissolving? Like chalk in water, was she going to become tinier and weaker until she eventually disappeared?
That was a gruesome fate just for kissing someone who has been wanting to kiss you for a long time. So much so that Nora’s longing became a palpable, heavy thing that disrupted Odile’s concentration every time she came stomping up those steps.
Why she didn’t just use the dumbwaiter instead of climbing the stairs was far beyond Odile, but Odile chose to let it go. Nora was good at her job. Efficient and accurate with a good intuition. She had also studied chemistry in school, that much Odile knew.
As long as she continued to be good at her job, Odile would ignore any idiosyncrasies she had.
Though, perhaps she had quit?
Over what? A stupid kiss?
The witch had asked ‘how many other hearts have you broken last night?’
The answer was zero
The one time she decides to indulge Nora in her stupid little infatuation, she gets punished for it. Did Nora really believe that she just suddenly fell in love with her? Totally out of the blue? The idea was preposterous.
The more she thought about it, the more upset Odile got, and the more she wanted to march into town and demand that that hateful little bitch remove this pathetic excuse of a spell from her at once.
She threw open her closet doors, but just at that moment, the downstairs doorbell chimed.
Someone had opened the door to the tower.
She waited for the second bell, the one attached to the stairwell door to chime, and it did.
That meant it was either her younger sister Iris, or Nora, come to apologize. She went down the hall, through the parlor and the front room and opened the door.
She could usually see who was coming up if she looked over the top balcony. Whoever it was was running up, stopping every few seconds to breathe harshly.
“Iris?” Odile asked. “Why are you running?”
“Odile?” Her sister’s voice echoed up shrilly. “Odile!”
Her sister didn’t stop running this time, calling out her name every so often.
Iris reached the last landing and looked up at Odile.
“What on earth is the matter?” Odile asked.
“Odile!” Iris yelled. She skipped up the last few steps and flew into her sister’s arms. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I tried to stop her, I begged! I couldn’t come earlier, because the wagon wheel burst. What did she do to you? Are you alright?”
“Oof, Iris,” Odile said. “I’m fine, as you can see. She didn’t do anything of note. Just this- steam.”
Still, her arms closed around her sister’s shoulders, glad to touch someone familiar.
“Oh no, I don’t-” Iris coughed. “I don’t like the-” coughed again. “L-loo- looks-”
Iris devolved into a coughing fit, hanging off of Odile’s shoulder while she doubled over.
“Iris?” |
b7b783df73184e839fef409288669ebf | ['cc8f4ba7c36c45d196561a8b0fa1e312'] |
In Loco Parentis
Hercules was sitting in the bar nursing a beer when Hamilton finally walked in. Well - bounced in is more like it. "Is it true?" He asked Hercules as he plopped down on a stool next to him. Hercules shook his head. "Is what true?" he asked calmly, slowly raising one eyebrow. Hamilton squirmed impatiently. "You know - I just came from camp. Rumor has it you've got a source." Hercules frowned a bit. "I don't know what you're talking about." Hamilton smirked a bit. "Right, right, of course," he said slowly. "You're just a lowly tailor, no super secret spy plots here." Hercules leaned forward. "You idiot. The walls have ears." He dropped some money on the bar and started to walk away. Hamilton quickly followed.
"Look - ok - that was probably kind of stupid. But I want to help! Washington told me to go home because of some foolishness with a duel - which I didn't even fight in, that was Laurens! Anyway. I still want to help even though I'm stuck here. So? Got anything for me?" Hercules stopped in the street and turned to face him. "Burr was right. You need to talk less."
Hamilton sighed impatiently as he continued to follow Hercules through the streets. Arriving at Hercules' shop, he followed him upstairs to his bedroom. "Look, Herc, I know I talk a lot but I can do quiet too. If it's for the revolution I'll do anything I have to. Come on. Let me in. I need to be a part of this!" Hercules shook his head and frowned. "There isn't much to do. I just listen to the British soldiers that come into my shop for uniforms and pass on anything they let slip." He suddenly stood up and grabbed Hamilton's wrist. "Never mention that. To anyone." He looked sternly down at Hamilton, who nodded frantically. "Don't worry, I'll be quiet." Hercules chuckled a bit. "I don't think you could be quiet if you were hogtied and gagged with your own undergarments." Hamilton frowned and stiffened a bit. "What's that supposed to mean? I’m loyal to the cause! I would never do anything to harm it!"
Hercules smiled gently (patronizingly, Hamilton thought). "Look, Ham, I know you would never do it intentionally. You definitely care about the cause. But you do have a tendency to…run your mouth." Hamilton sighed in frustration and yanked his hand out of Hercules', who had still been holding it. "You don't know a thing if you think me capable of such treachery!" He swung at Hercules with one fist. Hercules calmly caught his arm and twisted it behind his back before shoving him face down into the bed. Calmly he said, "you need to calm the fuck down, young squire. This is exactly what I was talking about. You get angry and you say things without thinking them through."
Hamilton struggled against him, but Hercules had three inches and 50?? pounds on him. He kicked out as hard as he could, but Hercules dodged him easily. "Calm the fuck down, man." Hamilton shuddered then let all of the fight go out of him. "Fine. I yield. Fuck." Hercules released his arm and let him up. Hamilton immediately bounced back up. "What if I promise to do everything you tell me? Exactly as you tell me? And feel free to beat the shit out of me if I screw up?" Hercules considered him for a moment.
"You really want this, don't you?" He asked slowly. Hamilton nodded his head frantically. "Look I - I fucked up, ok?" He sat down heavily on Hercules bed and put his head in his hands. "And Washington sent me home and all I can think about is that they're out there dying in the trenches and I'm stuck back here in New York because I'm such a fucking idiot. So I need to do something. I don't care what. But I can't just live it up at home knowing what they're all going through."
Hercules folded his arms. "I can't have you working for me feeling guilty. I don't need a martyr. You could blow our whole operation open with one stupid move." Hamilton looked up. "Then punish me! I know I need it, God, I wish the General had just beat the shit out of me instead of sending me home. But punish me, and then I won't feel so guilty and I can work for you safely!" Hercules considered him. "If I do this, then it sets a precedent. Any time you fuck up from now on, I punish you the same way.
Hamilton looked Hercules in the eye. "That's fine. Like I said, I need it. Shit, we all need a little discipline in our lives." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "I never really had that before. You know, I've always only been accountable to me. Now I have to be accountable to others, and it's fucking hard. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." Hercules gave him a little half hug. "Don't worry bro. I gotchu. In loco parentis, right?"
"Right." said Hamilton. He squirmed a bit. "So are we doing this now, or - ?" Hercules grabbed Hamilton by the hips and stood him up. He turned Alex to face him and pulled down his pants before pulling him over his knee. Hamilton squawked a bit indignantly as he was pulled down. "Wait, I thought you were going to beat me!" Hercules laid one heavy hand on Alex's upturned bottom. "I am." He said before bringing his hand down, hard on Alex's behind. Alex jumped a bit in surprise.
"Ahh-I thought you were going to hit me with a belt or something!" Hercules brought his hand down a few more times before answering. "Have you ever even felt a belt before?" Alex squirmed a bit, trying hard not to flinch away from Hercules' hand. "Yeah, a couple of times. On the island. If I fucked up my job for my ma's landlord." Alex flinched as Hercules laid down several strokes in the same spot.
"Well I do things a bit differently" said Hercules as he grabbed hold of Alex's hip to hold him still as he began spanking rhythmically. Hamilton tried not to flinch and squirm but eventually couldn't help it. After a short time, Hercules stopped and set him back on his feet. Alex looked a bit surprised. "Is that it?" He asked with false bravado. Hercules let out a little chuckle. "Not by half. Stay here a moment." And with that, he walked out of the room. Alex stood there by the bed, half naked, his shirt hanging down over his bottom, his pants at his ankles. He felt awkward standing alone in the middle of the room like that, and he suddenly noticed that it was a bit cold.
A moment later, Hercules returned. In his hand was a large wooden paddle. Alex paled on seeing it. "Oh no - " he started to say as Hercules returned to his seat on the bed and dragged Hamilton back down across his lap. This time he put Alex only over his left leg and used his right to pin Alex's legs down. Alex squirmed, testing his ability to move. Hercules put one broad hand down on his back and then brought the paddle down hard. Alex tensed briefly as the pain sunk in, then shuddered. This hurt. A lot. Way more than just Hercules' hand, and that had been pretty bad. Not as bad as the belt, but still.
Alex tried to sink into it, to submit to the pain he knew he deserved, but his body wouldn't let him. He fought and twisted and kicked as he tried to get away but Hercules held him tight. Hamilton counted the strokes to himself. At 20, he started to cry, and by 30 he was physically exhausted and just laying there taking the punishment. At 50, Hercules pulled him up off his knee and over onto the bed, where he lay down next to him, spooning him. Alex cried, shuddering, gasping tears as he let out the poison guilt and anger inside of him. Eventually, he calmed down a bit, enough to notice Hercules a warm weight around him. He turned around so he was facing him.
"Thank you." Alex sniffed. He leaned forward a bit and gave Hercules a little kiss on the lips. Hercules smiled. "No problem, my little spitfire." Alex blushed. Hercules reached up and stroked a gentle hand through his hair. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll talk about your duties here in the shop." Alex looked up. "Really?" he asked. Hercules nodded. "Congratulations. You just became a tailor's apprentice." | 82b9af66062e42d9bca7ac5a705edcea | ['cc8f4ba7c36c45d196561a8b0fa1e312'] | Call Me Son
Washington sat at his desk, arms folded, looking sternly at Hamilton, who was practically vibrating with anger and what Washington judged was not a small amount of fear. "But sir-" Hamilton began, but Washington held up a hand to stop him from speaking. "My word is final, Alexander. Submit to this punishment or be sent home in disgrace. No further arguments will be accepted."
Hamilton stood there glaring at him for a moment longer before slowly taking off his jacket and laying it on a chair. At a meaningful nod from Washington, he pulled down his pants as well. Washington stood and took Hamilton's arm, guiding him so he was laying over his desk with his bottom in the air. Washington pulled from his chest the strap of leather he frequently used when punishing errant soldiers.
Hamilton had felt the strap before, of course, although never at the hands of the General. He squirmed as he felt the strap rest across his bottom briefly before being withdrawn. The first stroke fell quickly, drawing a startled gasp from Hamilton as he felt it land. His entire body went stiff as he fought against the urge to leap up from the desk. He stifled a gasp and braced himself for the next stroke.
Washington had punished many young men over the years, and was accustomed to their reactions. Some would yell and scream out their pain, while others, like Hamilton, tried to hide their reactions out of a sense of bravado. Those soldiers were always the hardest to break, but were also the most skilled and brave on the battlefield.
Hamilton gripped the edge of the desk as he braced himself for the next stroke, the tips of his fingers turning white. Washington let the strap fall, again and again, as Hamilton maintained his silent rigidity. Finally, after twenty strokes, Hamilton let out a quiet gasp. The General gave him five more, quickly, before stopping.
Hamilton lay face down on the desk, breathing hard. Washington reached over and placed a hand on Hamilton's neck. "All done, son. You are forgiven." Hamilton took a shaky breath in and pushed himself up. To Washington's surprise, his face was covered in tears.
This was the part of any punishment that was hardest for Washington. He always offered comfort, but some soldiers wouldn't accept it, which left him feeling as though he was going against every instinct, allowing them to leave without proper care.
Washington pulled Hamilton into a hug, fully expecting a stiff body to remain in his arms only as long as absolutely necessary. Instead, Hamilton melted once Washington's arms were around him, doing his best to mold his entire body against Washington's. "Easy, easy," Washington soothed, guiding them both over to the sofa. He sat down and pulled Hamilton into his lap, tucking his legs up onto the sofa and his head below Washington's chin. Hamilton buried his head into Washington's shoulder, and Washington started to slowly stroke Hamilton's hair.
They sat like that for a while, until Hamilton's shaking stopped. Eventually, he pulled his head up and looked at Washington "'m sorry sir," he sniffled. Washington slowly rubbed his back. "All forgiven, son."
Hamilton smiled, a bit uncertain. "I can go now, I don't want to disturb the rest of your evening." Washington shook his head. "You're not disturbing anything. How about you lay down on the couch here for a while and take a nap while I work?" Hamilton nodded and Washington lifted him up, laying him out on his side on the couch and spreading a blanket over him.
Washington walked back over to his desk and started reading a letter, looking up periodically to check on Hamilton, who was fast asleep. Washington marveled at the sight. In his sleep, Hamilton, usually full of fiery energy, seemed very young and vulnerable. "Sleep well, my son," he murmured to himself before turning back to his work. |
0e1b318e50b341ce873900d0ecc2196f | ['cc9df3a6cb0d458a82a3d74c4ca5053c'] | When the server came to take their order, Neil ordered his own food and pancakes piled high with whipped cream and chocolate. Andrew came back shortly after and Matt took a moment to really watch them together. He watched as Andrew subtly raised his eyebrows at Neil, and he watched as Neil grinned, leaning slightly to bump their shoulders together. He watched as Andrew turned back to his jelly tower, and Neil began talking about a girl in one of his classes.
Matt started to think that maybe Neil really did know what he was doing. Maybe he really was just fine.
4.
Nicky loved his cousins, he really did. If he hadn’t, he would be in Germany right now, and he wasn’t, he was in South Carolina playing exy and he was happy. He missed Erik, but he really was happy, and he really did love his cousins. He loved all of his fox family, and no one could blame him if Neil was just a little bit of a favorite outside Aaron and Andrew. It was just...
Nicky had been the twins’ guardian for a minute while they were teenagers. He knew how they were around people, around relationships. He knew how Andrew was, how he didn’t _ do _ relationships, how he barely ever spared anyone a glance. So he was more than a little... concerned when Neil latched onto Andrew, and Andrew seemed to latch onto Neil. At first it made sense, because they had a deal, and Andrew would rather die than break a deal. But then Neil dissolved the deal, and then Neil disappeared, and then Andrew showed more emotion that Nicky had possibly ever seen from him.
So yes, Nicky loved his cousin, but he was concerned Neil was going to get burned. He didn’t know how bored Andrew could get with people. Nicky was worried that Andrew was chasing being able to feel something about someone, and when he had caught the feelings, he would be done, and Neil would be dropped. He didn’t want to watch Neil fall, and he really didn’t want to watch Andrew stop caring.
It went like this.
Classes had ended, they didn’t have practice for weeks, and summer was officially in full swing. The foxes had decided to take a day trip to the beach before everyone left. Andrew had grumbled about not going, but the second Neil had agreed, he had refused to stay behind. They left early in the morning so they could make the most of the day. The day started uneventfully, the drive going smoothly, and the three cars all meeting at roughly the same time. They gathered all of their things, and they staked out a spot on the beach.
Kevin was nearly instantly bugging people to play volleyball until it was warm enough to go swimming, but they ignored him in favor of applying sunscreen, laying out towels, and putting up umbrellas.
“We can’t just play around all day, guys, we have to keep our stamina--” Kevin started.
“Would you drop it, Day? No one is on your side here,” Allison cut in, already donning oversized sunglasses and laying back on her towel in the sand.
“Face it, Kev, we’re relaxing today,” Dan agreed, sitting directly in the sand.
“Neil, surely _ you _ \--” He tried again.
Neil shook his head from where he was laying by Andrew, still wearing his t-shirt. “Not this time, Day. I’ve never relaxed at a beach before, I’m doing it today.”
As Neil’s eyes were closed, he didn’t catch the sympathetic glances thrown his way, but Nicky had frozen. Wasn’t the last time he was at the beach the day his mother had died? He studied Neil and Andrew beside him, but they both looked at ease, enjoying the sea air. Maybe he was overreacting. They’d probably already considered that when they agreed to come. They knew what they were doing.
The sun crept higher in the sky, and the sand warmed and the water looked more and more inviting. Most of them went to swim in the ocean, but Nicky stayed behind to sun tan while Neil and Andrew laid under an umbrella, murmuring softly to each other.
They went to grab lunch at some point before returning to the beach. Kevin found people to play volleyball with, and the rest went back to the water, with the same three exceptions. As the sun sank closer to the horizon and it grew darker, Nicky could begin to smell the starts of someone’s bonfire. It had always been one of his favorite smells, and he felt himself relaxing even more before he heard a sharp, choked intake of air.
Quickly sitting up, he turned to the noise to see Neil trying to scrabble to his feet, his eyes wide and lost. Andrew quickly reached out, firmly wrapping his hand around the back of his neck. “Stop.”
Neil froze and looked to Andrew with wild eyes, but at the same time it seemed like he was looking far away. Nicky hesitated, not sure if he could help or if he needed to keep his distance.
“Your name is Neil Abram Josten. Say it.”
“M-my... My name is Neil. Neil Abram Josten,” he repeated back haltingly.
“You are a fox.”
“I... I am a fox.” Neil was very slowly coming back to himself, looking Andrew more directly in the eyes. “My name is Neil Abram Josten. I am a fox.”
“You are in South Carolina, not California. Your mother is not here. You are safe.”
“I am safe.”
“Come here,” Andrew finally murmured softly, pulling Neil closer until his face was buried in Andrew’s neck. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another one, and another until his breathing had slowed to normal and he pulled back again. | 5acc90ac922341e58e5f04af16d4af5a | ['cc9df3a6cb0d458a82a3d74c4ca5053c'] | Andrew saw the way that Reynolds watched him, always with a slight sneer on her face. He knew what she must think when she sees him with Neil, hears it every time she calls him ‘Monster’. It’s not that he cares about what she thinks of him, it’s that clearly Neil does. Neil is friends with her, close with her, and he sees how much it affects him when she says what she thinks.
It went like this.
The team was chattering on the bus, topics flying past him. Kevin went on about how the game went, trying to get anyone to listen to him. Matt was leaning over the seat in front of him, talking to Dan about what to get for dinner once they got back to Palmetto. Nicky was lamenting about how sore he was, and how excited he was to get back home to start drinking.
He sat in the back with Neil, as usual, saying nothing. Neil was leaning against him, fighting valiantly against sleep. He had scored most of the points this game, and though he would never admit it, something close to pride had wiggled its way into Andrew’s chest.
“Hey, Drew?” Neil mumbled softly. “How much longer?”
He’s not sure when they got so good at reading each other, when they were able to understand the real question under what is being said. It feels like they’ve always been able to do it, but he knows that’s not right. What he does know is that Neil is asking when he can sleep. Despite how much he trusts the foxes, he still wasn’t thrilled about sleeping around so many people if he could help it.
“Sleep, junkie,” is what he says. _ I’m watching _ is what he knows Neil hears.
He wraps an arm around Neil’s waist, and Neil curls into him further. He settles against window to wait out the last couple hours of the trip.
Neil’s asleep nearly an hour when Wymack stops the bus and everyone files off. It only takes a couple minutes before they notice that they haven’t followed them off, and it’s Allison who comes back on to see what’s holding them up. He watches as she climbs back onto the bus, and walks down the aisle towards the back before she froze, staring at them with wide eyes. He watched as she slowly opened her mouth, probably to say something asinine, and he knew the second she did Neil would wake up. Neil had gotten used to a few noises and would sleep through them, but anyone’s voice that wasn’t Andrew’s had him waking up immediately.
“If you wake him up, you will be leaving this bus bleeding.”
He didn’t like the look on her face. Usually the threat of his knives was enough for people to leave him and his alone, but instead she pulled out her phone.
“Don’t.”
“Come and stop me.” And ah, that was it, wasn’t it? She had figured out that he wouldn’t actually move. After all, if he moved, wouldn’t Neil wake up anyway?
She smirked and spun on her heel, practically marching off the bus as Neil started to stir. “Drew...?”
“It’s fine, go back to sleep,” he murmured, rubbing gentle circles along his side.
As Neil fell back asleep, his own phone buzzed. He carefully pulled it from his pocket to see a text from Reynolds, the picture she had taken.
If he made it his phone background, that was no one’s business but his.
(The next time she sees him with Neil, she calls him ‘Andrew’ instead of ‘Monster’, and he sees Neil’s shoulders drop just a bit in relief.)
2.
Despite her role as captain, despite how much she rallied to keep the team together, he knew how Wilds felt about him. It was a very poorly disguised feeling; she would only mildly glare at him when he knew she hated him. While Boyd had forgiven him for what had happened Freshman year, Wilds would absolutely kick him off the team if it was within her power and wouldn’t affect her team. He doesn't care. Neil does.
It went like this.
Having an eidetic memory was mostly a curse, but it did mean that when finals came around, he didn't have to study. The others did, and Neil was putting his all into doing every review and all the reading he could.
The first time it happens, it was already night. Neil stood from his chair to stretch and wavered, quickly catching himself on the desk. Andrew just stared at him, waiting. "I got dizzy. I've been here all day, I just got a head rush."
"All day?"
"Yeah, I'm not even sure if I got up to eat? Which, come to think of it, that might be why I'm dizzy." He shrugged it off and made his way into the kitchen, unaware of Andrew's frown.
The next day, he makes sure to pay attention. Neil shrugs off the offer of breakfast, and before Andrew leaves he leaves food in the pan on the stove. However, when he comes back after class, Neil is in the same spot and the food hasn’t been touched. He tolerates it for another hour before going into the kitchen and heating up the food, bringing it out to Neil in a bowl and setting it on top of the textbook he’s reading.
He looks up, startled at first, then annoyed as he pushes the bowl away. “I’m busy, Drew.”
“You haven’t eaten today.”
“I can eat later, I’ve gotta finish--”
“Eat your food, idiot. I don’t need you passing out from your own stupidity.”
Neil huffs. “Andrew, I don’t have time, I’ve gone longer without--”
“You’re not there anymore, you’re here, and here you have to eat.” Neil opens his mouth to argue again, and Andrew snatches the textbook up, replacing it with the shoved aside bowl of food. “You can have it back when you’re done.” |
79ee1400345144b8adcd2a2cc0646047 | ['ccb0a935420b4cfbbea5d9170b89abc0'] | her drink is already waiting for her on the counter, the latte showing off a pretty leaf design on it's surface. tidbits about their day traded as she watched him work on sasha and bayely's orders. she balances the tray with three mugs in her her hands, a thanks tossed over her shoulder at him as she walks towards sasha. her friend already pouring over notes and books in the small table becky had claimed as hers as in the past few weeks. " here, drink up. " she slides the drink towards her friend, taking a drink of her own. fingers pulling sasha's notes towards her as she begins to study for the never ending exams that seem to come her way. hazel eyes drifting over to the counter every few minutes, a smile curving on her lips. sasha's sigh pulls her attention from seth and towards her best friend, and though she doesn't catch it she knows sasha had rolled her eyes at her. " what. " she asks through a smile, unsure if it was the excess coffee or his voice over the patrons that caused the fluttering in her stomach. before sasha can go in on her there's someone heading towards them. papers that needed grading dropped onto their table as bayley took her seat next to sasha, a kiss dropped on sasha's cheek and a hug given to becky over the table.
bayley with her bright smile and cute comments about her students lighten up the mood between them, a nice distraction from studying for exam upon exam.
becky thinks she's in the clear, that bayley's presence has stopped the questions sasha had for her. it's stupid really, to think her friend would give up on the exchange she had seen before. in no time at all she's gotten his name out of her and pulled him up on instagram, twitter, facebook and tinder. bayley's giggles pulling a smile on her lips when she wants to frown instead. it feels like high school all over again. them sitting on bayley's bed, painting each others nails as they laughed over rumors spread at school and giggled over their current crushes.
small tidbits about seth at sasha's fingertips and relayed to her. most things stuff becky already knew and other things she didn't. like the fact that he'd been in a relationship of two years and had made his tinder shortly after ending it. the most surprising thing she finds is that it's his coffee shop she'd made her main place to study, and he wasn't just an employee.
two hours go by quickly and before she knows it bayley and sasha are gathering up their things. sending her a smile, a laugh from sasha, as she waves them off and stays in her seat.
it'd become her routine in the last few weeks. to stay past closing time ( he never asked her to leave ), glancing up from her notes to watch him clean the shop and talking about anything that came to mind once her books and notes were placed in her bookbag.
a hug shared outside the door as they both made their separate ways home.
_**four.** _
there's a flush on her cheeks, lips curling around pearly whites as she pulled the door open. vibrant hair is in curls, curling around flushed cheeks and flowing down her back. boots loud against the floor as she rushes towards the counter. arms thrown around him and lips pressed against his cheek. " i passed. " her voice raises in pitch, arms still around him as she leans back to look at him. a smile that matches her's curls up on her lips and he hugs her just a little tighter. her feet lifting off the ground. she laughs at the action, her laugh free and airy. his own joining hers and she decides she really really doesn't hate it.
what she does hate is when she's placed back on her feet and he has to take the order of the person behind her.
becky finds herself sitting in her designated table, legs curled beneath her as she scrolls through her social media. for the first time since she'd found the best coffee she'd ever had she has tea instead, liking pictures on her instagram ( of him, and sasha and bayley and charlotte and finn ) as she waits for the shop to silence around her leaving just the two of them.
she helps him this time, playfully snapping her white towel at him as she cleans one of the counters.
_**five.** _
various mugs cluttered around her and yet her eyes dropped, her hand writing blending together as she tries to focus on her notes. the shop around her had long since emptied, the open signed turned off as she studied. it was inventory day and she was allowed to stay longer than usual. curls brushing against the table as she slumped forward, her forehead meeting his hand instead of the table which is what she had intended. his laugh is annoying this time and she looks up with a glare, slapping his hand away. " it's not too late to drop out yeah ? " she asks him, a pout forming on her lips. hands pushing paper away from her, notes upon notes in front of her. words highlighted by different colors. too highlighted in sasha's opinion. "whos' going to be dean's lawyer when he get's arrested again. " he asks, taking a seat next to her and handing her another mug. she holds it in her hands, enjoying the warmth that radiates onto her palms. a smirk tugging at her lips at the mention of one of his best friends. " he can't afford me. " she shrugs her shoulders, bringing the mug up to her lips.
hazel eyes focus on her notes again, shoulder brushing against his as she leans slightly against him. her eyes begin to drop again only minutes again and she's forced to open them when fingers tug at the end of orange strands, a " hey bex." following his actions. her head, which is almost leaning against his shoulder tilts and hazel eyes focus on him. his next few words come out in a rush and she rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at his ler lips. the curve of them pressed against his cheek. " o'course i'll go on a date w'it ya. " she sounds casual to her own ears, but teeth bite down on a smile that threatens to be as bright as one of bayley's. " ya don't think i buy copious amount 'o coffee from any lad do ya? "
_**\+ their date.** _
fingers intertwine with his, his arm around her shoulder and her arm sliding around his waist as she leans against him. they'd fallen into their date easily, the coffee shop left behind but their conversation just as lively as ever. shared smiles over their dinner and her feet childishly sliding against his. she learned more about him over dinner, every small detail he was willing to share about his own college career and how he ended opening his own shop. she in turn told him about law school and all the way she could murder her professors and get away with it.
" ya'know, ya took yer sweet ass time askin' me out. " she teases as they walk. he knocks his hip against hers and she stumbles with a laugh. he says something about not knowing if she'd say yes and she laughs, fingers tightening around his. footsteps coming to a stop on the sidewalk as she looks up at him. " okay, so maybe if ya'd asked me out the first night i came in i would'a have said no 'cause yer laugh is somethin' a lass has'ta get used ta but after that - " she trails off with a teasing smile, a flush on her lips. his scoff and look of mock outrage makes her laugh and she leans up, her heels bring her just a few inches closer to his height. fingers against his chest and hazel eyes half way closed.
she's not ready for the rain this time either but she laughs as she looks up at the sky. hands wrapping around her's as he pulls her towards the last destination of their date. key's sliding into place as he pushes the door open. she follows behind him, almost bumping into his back as he stops to turn on the light.
fingers wrap around the white towel thrown her way and she uses it to wipe down her leather pants, shedding her leather jacket and giving it the same treatment. her hair comes next and curls turn to straight strands as she dries them. " oi rollins, a latte please. " she calls out as she hops onto the counter. eyes following his moments as he makes their drinks. becky appreciating the way the shirt is rolled up to his elbows and molded against his shoulders from the rain.
a mug is placed beside her thigh and she gives him a smile in return, motioning him towards her. every intention of getting the kiss she had wanted before it'd started raining. thighs slotting against his hips easily, arms around his shoulders as his find their way around her waist. her forehead knocks against his softly and she gives him one last smile before she tugs him closer. smiling lips against his in their first kiss. teeth tugging softly at his bottom lip, capturing it between her own.
he tastes like coffee. | 7978a9f8dc414a23a867249b523281b1 | ['ccb0a935420b4cfbbea5d9170b89abc0'] |
you caught me staring ( but i caught you staring back )
_**one.** _
her day had been perfect, which is why she's not at all surprised when the sky opens and it pours. she's soaked within seconds. with vibrant hair sticking to her cheeks and leather jacket minutes away from being ruined she rushes towards the closest shop to her. the first thing she notices is the strong scent of coffee, the second is the cackling laugh that overpowers the friendly chatter of the coffee shop. hazel eyes find the owner of the laugh and she almost doesn't roll her eyes. it comes from the man behind the counter, all tan skin and gapped smile. shaking the rain coated jacket off she holds it close to her chest, low heels clicking against the wooden floor as she walks towards the counter.
an easy slow smile spreads on glossed lips, hip leaning against the counter. hazel eyes on the board above his head as she reads the menu. it's only a few minutes before she decides on what to get, her focus shifting back towards him. hazel eyes meeting brown, her smile growing. " I'll take a latte. " her order is simple enough, though her eyes had lingered on the irish coffee. when he asks her for her name she replies with " Rebecca, but ya can call me Becky. " there's a slight flirtation in her tone. a confident smile spread across his lips and she returns it before turning her attention towards the shop itself. it's cute, with it's wooden details and dim lighting. a nice atmosphere that she would never have found without the help of rain. before long her attention turns back towards him, he makes an impressive sight. skinny jeans that would look ridiculous on anyone else and a black t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and arms.
" hey - ya t'ink ya can lend me one o' those. " she nods towards one of the white towels on the counter behind him, before gesturing towards the black leather she was still holding to her chest. her thanks a nod of her head as she takes it from his hands and begins working on drying her jacket. tossing it back at him when she's finish and taking the coffee placed in front of her. with another thanks she disappears into the shop. books and laptop taken out of her bag as she settles into her study pattern, rain softly hitting the window beside her.
and if her eyes linger on his form for a few minutes between taking breaks from her notes it's only before her coffee is damn good.
_**two.** _
_coffee, coffee, coffee._
it's the only thought in her mind as she pulls on the door. usual bright hazel eyes dull with fatigue, booted feet dragging on the floor as she walks towards the counter. she's the only one in the shop, an silence around her that does nothing to silence her own thoughts. thoughts filled with notes upon notes on laws she wasn't sure she'd ever encounter. midterms were kicking her ass and she was sure coffee was the only thing that would get her through the next few hours before her last exam.
fingers tap against the counter as she waits for him to look up from the book in his hands, but she's never been the most patient person. so it's only a few seconds before she's done waiting. " yer not closed are ya? " her voice is louder than normal, demanding his attention. " 'cause if i don't 'ave coffee right this second i might _die_. " it's an exaggeration of course, but it's how she feels at that exact moment. the look on his face tells her she's being dramatic and she does everything she can not to cross her arms over her chest and pout.
when he asks her if she wants her usual ( she has to hide the smile at the fact that she has a usual despite the fact that she'd only visited a few times ), she shakes her head. " a long black please. " she answers instead, hip against the counter as she watches him make her drink. " ya know, i think it's really unfair t'at ya know my name and i don't know yours. " her voice rings out in the otherwise quiet shop. his name accompanies the coffee that is placed in front of her. _seth rollins_ , rolls off her tongue easily as she thanks him.
she doesn't take a seat this time, instead leans against the front counter, trading jabs and witty comments with him for the next thirty minutes. his laugh not as grating when it's mixed with her chuckles.
and if she starts coming in late in the afternoon when no one has any right drinking coffee it's definitely not because she enjoys having his attention for thirty minutes. not at all. it's definitely because her professors hate her and the law sucks.
_**three.** _ |
f31069bcdef44594ba7fbaf5f0274fa6 | ['ccbfe7697d55456383b10f5a69ac0daa'] | “You didn’t think I was that stupid did you? I got you all figured out, dude,” Harper says while Jamie stares back at him in confusion, “Remember that time you bought a present for a five year old girl? Well, I remembered and I did some digging on your boy Seguin and turns out he just happens to have a five year old daughter.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to get at-“
“There’s no point in denying it, Benn. I already figured it out. My research was very extensive. You stared at him a lot back when he still played here. Not to mention you two faggots were all over each other at the All Star game.”
“Listen to me, you fucker,” Jamie snaps at him.
“No, you listen to me. It’s been hell having to share the locker room with a homo. Always worrying that you might look at me in the showers-“
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t look at your dick even if you forced me to,” Jamie says.
“Whatever. All that is finally over. Management will talk to you soon. You’re someone else’s problem now,” Harper replies smugly and walks away to his car.
Jamie drives home in a daze, still stunned by Harper’s words. What on earth did he mean by saying management would talk to him soon? Would they really believe Harper’s theory about his relationship with Tyler? Obviously he isn’t wrong but he’s got literally no proof. Would management really do something to Jamie because of what Harper told them?
He wishes he could talk to Tyler about the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, Jamie’s call goes straight to voicemail and he remembers the Bruins game had been on the west coast, against the Sharks and was most likely still going on. Jamie’s so anxious and stressed he’d have trouble sleeping if he wasn’t so damn tired. He may have had a terrible season but he still gave it his best and worked as hard as he could for the team. He falls asleep hoping it wasn’t all for nothing.
Management calls him the next day, just as Harper had told him. It’s awkward from the start. They sit him down and try to explain the situation to him. Apparently, Harper had given them an ultimatum and threatened to leave the team if they didn’t get rid of Jamie.
“We don’t want you to think that we don’t appreciate all you’ve done for this organization,” the GM says. It’s not Jim Nill anymore, he left a couple years ago. This GM is some other guy, younger and with ridiculously ugly mustache. Jamie doesn’t really have any respect for him.
“You sure have a funny way of showing your appreciation,” Jamie sneers.
There are some loud sighs on the room. “Listen, son,” The Stars president says, “You’ve been long enough on this league to understand that above all, the NHL is a business.”
“Precisely,” the GM complements, “And we gotta do what’s best for the business. When the top two players on the team don’t get along, that’s bad for business.”
“‘Don’t get along’? You make it sound as a playground feud,” Jamie says sarcastically.
“Whatever the reason behind your disagreements, it doesn’t matter. Chad made it clear that it was beyond fixing and that we needed to choose one of you,” the president replies. His voice is monotonous as if he was doing Jamie a favor.
“It is at this point that we had to take the choice that was best for the organization,” the GM says, “Unfortunately, that’s not you anymore. You’re considerably older than him and you probably don’t have a lot of gas left in you. It was only logical that we go with the younger choice who has been a lot more productive than you have been this year.”
“He’s young but he’s shown enough potential and professionalism for us to trust that he is able to lead this team,” some other guy on the table adds. Jamie doesn’t know who the guy is but he instantly wants to deck him.
“Professionalism?” Jamie says aghast, “He’s a fucking bigot! That’s really what you want as the face of your franchise?”
“Look, Jamie. We respect the choices you may take in regards to your lifestyle,” the GM tells him.
“My lifestyle?” Jamie cuts him off. Anyone who refers to gayness as lifestyle is fucking ignorant.
“What he means is that we don’t care if you’re gay. That’s not why we’re trading you,” the president explains, “It’s the fact that your sexual preferences have interfered with the dynamic of this team for a second time and-“
“Wait, hold the fuck on. When have my, excuse you, sexual preferences, affected this team in any way?” Jamie asks.
“Well, not that it matters now but it’s clear as day to us that you had something to do with Seguin’s departure from the team,” the president answers.
“You don’t know anything about-“
“Perhaps not. But like I said, it doesn’t matter now. Harper gave us his side of the story and we’re frankly not interested in hearing yours. We don’t need a he said-he said situation.”
“Jamie, we didn’t call this meeting looking to fight or argue with you,” the GM says, “Our decision has been made. We’re only letting you know in advance as courtesy, so you have time to get your affairs in order.”
Jamie guesses he could still put up a fight. He could all his agent, the NHLPA or even You Can Play. But what would be the point? Who would want to play for a team that clearly didn’t want them?
“Alright,” Jamie sighs, “Where are you trading me?” | 193bce92fb8344c1abaa5ea9435262b9 | ['ccbfe7697d55456383b10f5a69ac0daa'] | “Act like you're an emotionally intelligent person,” Jordie says and Jamie wonders when exactly did his brother start saying things like ‘emotionally intelligent’. “Before you ask what that means… just call Tyler. He needs a friend a right now. Violence isn't gonna fix shit.”
Jamie nods, still a little puzzled by his brother’s newfound ability to give advice. He takes out his phone and clicks on Tyler's contact to call him. The call goes straight to voicemail.
“I didn't consider the possibility that he might not pick up,” Jordie admits.
It doesn't matter. Jamie knows what to do. He goes to some old message group he's still in that has players from all around the league. He asks for a phone number and it is Matt Duchenne who delivers it.
Jamie can't believe he's gonna do this. It could probably go horribly wrong. He clicks the call button and hopes for the best.
“Hello? Who's this?” Brad Marchand answers.
“Marchand, hi. It's uh… Jamie Benn,” he says and he can just hear Marchand’s annoyed sigh, “Please don't hang up. I need to talk to you.”
“What could you possibly want to talk about with me? You and I are not friends. How the fuck did you even get this number?”
“That doesn't matter. Listen, this is about Tyler. Please tell me you're on your way to check up on him,” Jamie says. If Tyler is with Marchand, he’ll be alright.
“Why would I need to check up on him?” Marchand asks sounding puzzled and annoyed.
“You haven't seen the news? It's all over twitter, Deadspin and motherfucking TSN!” Jamie yells at him exasperated. How could he not know? “Tyler was outed. Wait… you knew he wasn't straight, right?”
“Of course I knew! I'm his best friend, you idiot,” Marchand says, “Who the fuck outed him?”
“His ex-boyfriend Kenneth,” Jamie says. Just saying the name of that bastard angers him.
“Fucking Lizard Man. I'm gonna kill him,” Marchand proclaims and although Jamie would rather not stop him, he knows it's the right thing to do.
“Don't do that. Or do it later, whatever. Right now, you need to be with Tyler. He shouldn't be alone right now,” Jamie tells him. Marchand said it himself, he is his best friend. Jamie knows he cares about Tyler almost as much as he does.
“I can't go to his house, Benn. I'm not in Boston, I'm at Cape Cod,” Marchand says.
“And? That's like an hour away!” Now Jamie's the one who's annoyed.
“On a good day, yeah. But there's a tropical storm going on, in case you hadn't noticed. I can't drive in this weather. Besides, I can't just leave my family like that.”
“So what happens now? We just leave him alone and hope he's not miserable enough to hurt himself or something?”
“I can check up on him tomorrow morning when the storm has cleared,” Marchand promises. To Jamie, it's fucking useless so he hangs up the phone without saying goodbye.
Marchand may not be willing to drive one hour in this weather. But Jamie is willing to drive four. He refuses to leave Tyler alone during this time.
“Give me my keys,” Jamie orders Jordie who obliges without thinking.
“Wait… where are you going?” Jordie asks after realizing his mistake.
“I'm going to Tyler's house. In Boston,” he declares.
“Are you nuts?! There's a storm going on, Chubbs! The highway is the last place you want to be right now,” Jordie says, worried for his sake.
“Maybe, but if I have to get through it to get to Tyler, then so be it,” Jamie vows decidedly, “Please don't try to stop me.”
“I won't... but what about the packing? Katie comes home in two days and we're nowhere near done yet!”
“If you finish it by yourself, I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Your car,” Jordie says without a second thought.
“Alright. It's yours,” Jamie replies.
“I don't mean the boring sedan you have here. I want the kick ass Bentley you’ve got in Dallas.”
“It's yours,” Jamie repeats. He couldn't care less about his dumb car. Jordie all but squeals in delight. “I’m going now. If it all goes well, I’ll probably be there by 8pm.”
“Call me when you get there,” Jordie requests. Jamie nods and walks out the door.
It turns out Jordie was absolutely right. The highway is a mess and Jamie has been in it for only half an hour when he realizes he might actually die there. The rain is falling like there's no tomorrow, too fast for the car’s wipers to clean up. He can barely see the road, even with the lights on. It's too late to turn back now. All that is left is be as careful as possible and to pray to god that he won't crash his car and suffer an untimely death. He calls Tyler again once he stops at a gas station to refuel and grab a snack. It still goes straight to voicemail and Jamie wishes Tyler would just pick up the damn phone.
It's almost 9 o'clock when the city of Boston starts coming into view. It's raining just as hard there as it was in New York. |
ea9c1c4525324d058c4cbbfdf597eb68 | ['ccc7651dec6f416aa15263077d64d471'] |
We Don't Keep Secrets In Our Family
"Jim," Leonard McCoy shouted towards the small kitchen of their apartment "You are going to want to see this."
"I'm making myself a sandwich. You're the one who is always on me about-" Jim started but was interrupted.
"No, that can wait. You have to see this." It was the urgency in Leonard's voice that made Jim roll his eyes and close up the sandwich before heading to join him on the couch.
"I swear to God Bones, if this is another one of Starfleet's "we are strong together" propaganda I'm going to shove this sandwich somewhere unpleasant"
Jim sat down and turned his attention to the television.
“ _-the twenty four volunteers who will be spending a year doing research on the planet. These scientists specialize in fields such as botany and biology and will be conducting surveys to see if the planet is still habitable. Some of you remember the tragic story of Tarsus IV and how famine swept across the planet. With the help of these men and women we hope to be able to rebuild Tarsus IV into the thriving land it once was. Please welcome the man who will be leading this expedition, Samuel Kirk."_
Jim froze but his heartbeat raced. He could see the pictures moving in front of him as his older brother came onto the stage. He could not hear what they were saying. He was vaguely aware of Leonard by his side trying to get his attention but all he could do was pull his knees to his chest and close his eyes, hoping this was all a bad dream.
.-*-.
After Leonard helped Jim calm down, it was decided that Jim needed to talk to Sam. They had managed to reconnect some after the events of the Narada and Sam and his wife had come to visit for a while after everything that had happened with Khan and Admiral Marcus. Jim was grateful to have his brother back in his life, but they avoided talking about Frank and their childhood. He had not told Sam about his time off planet.
Jim spent the whole day preparing to tell Sam. Convincing himself that he could talk about it, that he had to tell Sam what happened. Jim had only told one other person, Leonard, about it and it had only come up after Leonard had noticed how Jim reacted when the topic was mentioned in their History of the Federation class that they shared. Even then it took a fair bit of liquid courage to help him out.
Still when there was a knock at the door Jim almost didn’t answer.
“Hey Jimmy.” Sam smiled and wrapped his younger brother into a hug. “You are looking good, glad to see you’ve put some meat back on those bones.”
“We need to talk about Ta- your mission.” Jim blurted out, his cheeks burned as he turned towards the living room to sit.
“I’m really excited about this. There was apparently an unknown disease that hit the planet and affected the crops. It killed most of the crops. Starfleet received a distress signal from the planet and managed to get there in time. They had preserved a few of the crops so we have samples of the disease to run analysis on.” Sam had the glow about him of a person who was excited for what was to come, but Jim’s stomach turned.
“You can’t go.” Jim’s voice weak, almost begging.
"This is a great opportunity for me, Jimmy. It will finally get me some field work which will open up new research opportunities.”
"What if something happens to you? I don't want to lose you too."
"Don't you think I worry about you too? Hell, I didn't even know you joined Starfleet until I saw you on the news beaten and bruised from saving the planet. Then with what happened two months ago-" Sam faltered. "Look, the famine occurred fourteen years ago. We will have plenty of food and supplies to-
"THAT'S WHAT THEY SAID THEN TOO!"
Sam was taken aback by his brother's sudden outburst. "What are you talking about?"
Jim swallowed the lump in his throat. "That is what they said fourteen years ago. They kept promising that Starfleet was coming with more supplies. But they didn't. Not until it was too late."
"Jim.."
"I was there Sam. I was on Tarsus when all the crops started to die and when.. when.." Jim stopped, not trusting himself to say more.
"You were 13 when it happened. How did you end up off planet?”
"The day you left I, uhm, took the car. I was upset and I didn't want Frank to have it so I stole it. I ended up driving it off the cliff. Frank was furious when he found out. He signed me up for one of those youth programs that take you off planet and assign you to a host family to live with and learn from."
Sam's expression softened as he listened. "I didn't know.."
"Of course not, you were smart and escaped." A year ago there might have been bitterness in that statement, but the brothers had become close that Jim couldn’t fault him for doing what he thought was best, for giving him an opportunity to have a normal life.
"I should have took you with me"
"You couldn't have. We couldn't have both left and you know it. Besides, it's not like you can change what happened."
"I can't change what happened on Tarsus either, but this project could allow people to return. It's not like the famine will strike twice."
Jim's voice was small "That's not what happened.”
"Jim, Starfleet records say a famine came and wiped out all the crops. What else would cause perfectly healthy crops to die out?"
"It was an ecoterrorism group. They did it." | 204f53fd8f6c424bb759b82b323e42df | ['ccc7651dec6f416aa15263077d64d471'] | Come on Bones, It's Gonna Be Fun
_The first time Jim said it he trusted him. That was a mistake._
It was their first break at the Academy. Jim insisted to Mt. Defiance Summit and go hiking. Bones protested, said there was no way in hell he was going to go. The next morning when Jim showed up at his dorm in full hiking gear Bones just grumbled under his breath.
“Come on Bones, it's gonna be fun” Jim said, a smug smile on his face. He knew he won.
They ended up getting lost in the forest trying to find their camp site.
_The second time Jim said it he didn't go with him._
“Dammit man I have an exam in the morning” he argued while Jim pouted at him. Not all of us could be boy geniuses. If Bones didn't pass his Temporal Mechanics exam odds we looking good that he wouldn't pass the class.
“Come on Bones, it's gonna be fun!” Jim begged.
“No” and that was that.
Around three Jim came in again bloody and drunk off his ass. Bones fixed him up the best he could with the supplied he had in his room and let Jim sleep in his bed. The floor wasn't comfortable but at least he could check up on Jim.
_The third time Jim said it Bones won the argument._
“Come on Bones, it's gonna be fun” Jim pleaded with him.
“Dammit Jim, last time it took me four hours to get you all patched up. You are not doing that again.” Jim gave his best puppy dog eyes hoping to get Bones to change his mind, but Bones was a stubborn man.
“Fine, let's just go to the bar” Jim conceded.
_The fourth time Jim said it Bones believed him._
They had been sitting in silence for a while. Jim looked like he wanted to say something but he hadn't for the past two hours. It was okay because Bones was enjoying the book he finally had time to read now that exams were over.
“Hey Bones” Jim interrupted his thoughts, “Do you want to go get dinner with me and maybe catch a movie?”
They had done this a couple times in the three years since they'd known each other but there was something different in Jim's tone this time. Something Bones couldn't quiet put his finger on. He agreed anyways.
Jim's face lit up. He gave Bones a quick kiss on the check which almost made him drop his book out of surprise.
“Come on Bones, it's gonna be fun”
It was. |
dcc2e1d2c2404332be1c22eae1d27772 | ['ccdcbf60269a41598ba5b15ecdbaa1e4'] | The other hobbits were currently in the royal quarters with what little of the Company that wasn't searching for Bilbo. It was the only place he could think to put them where no one would dare try to take them and they would not let anyone harm them. Dori, Ori, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur loved the hobbits dearly and, while they wanted to join the search, knew that the others needed protection. They were currently keeping them calm as well, as they had understandably panicked when they heard what happened.
Frodo had done his best to tell him what happened to his uncle. but his information had been limited. The passage way was dark and while he knew there were three dwarves, he couldn't tell him who the third was. He had been hooded, like the guards. All he could see was a little of his beard, bright red and with few braids.
But, while his information on the kidnappers was scarce, he had something else to tell Thorin. "I was going to tell him he was being silly." he admitted softly to him, hiccuping occasionally from all his tears, "He was so happy to see you and he'd get so sad when you left. The girls said he was in love with you and... And we tried to help. We tried to make you jealous, like Berylla's mommy did with her daddy, but it didn't work..." He paused there, looking up at Thorin,
"Please don't throw us out. Uncle Bilbo can't change how he feels..."
"You have no fear of being thrown out." Thorin said after a moment of silence. Bilbo was in love with him... His feelings were returned! But... Was it too late?
"Do you love Uncle Bilbo too?" he had asked, growing drowsy in his lap.
"Aye." he had said, "I love your uncle."
The faunt hadn't lasted long after that, falling asleep. But he had become more frantic to find Bilbo, pushing his men harder to find him. An hour later, Nori had come forward with a dwarf that he did not recognize. His outfit clearly marked him as dwarf of the Red Mountains though, which put Thorin on edge. Their negotiations weren't going well at the moment and, while they had spoken little on the subject of hobbits, it was clear they thought themselves above them.
"My men caught him trying to clean up a puddle of blood in the lower halls." Nori said, "And he had this on his person."
His breath caught in his throat, for in Nori's hand was one of Bilbo's buttons. The golden metal shone in the little, the acorn engraved in it's middle leaving no mistake of who it belonged to. A quiet rage filled him, wanting to tear the dwarf in front of him to shreds, but still knowing that this was neither the time, nor the place, for such actions. "Where did you find this?" he asked, his voice cold as he stared down the traitor in his midst, "Who are you working for? Why have they taken Master Baggins? And where is the hobbit now? Answer me truthfully and I may give you mercy."
The dwarf in front of him whimpered pathetically. "Please, know I wanted nothing to do with this." he pleaded, his voice shaking, "I had no clue my kin were planning such an act, I only came to find a home among your halls... But, when we arrived, I found my company's plans had changed. They wanted wealth and power beyond their reach and began to search for a way to find it. One of your guards, he told our leader, Dwoigi, about a magic ring the hobbit had entrusted you with. He thought if he could gain possession of it, he could purge the mountain of non-dwarves and gain the riches he's always sought."
"So he took him for the trinket?" he said, eyes never leaving the dwarf in front of him.
"Not only for the ring." he admitted, "He saw how... close, the two of you were. While the ring would allow him to take out his enemies unseen, he... He believed that he could dangle him in front of you for treasure. If his original plan still holds true, he plans to send you pieces of the hobbit one by one until you give in to his demands. If he were to die before, he would simply take another hobbit and repeat the process over and over until you gave him what he wanted."
"And if I never gave in?" he asked, holding Frodo closer to his chest, "If he killed all the hobbits and I still didn't give him what he wanted?"
"He planned to don the ring and take out your line." he said, swallowing hard, "He would reveal himself in front of everyone and declare himself the true king of Erebor."
"But how do you fit into all of this?" Thorin asked, "Why has one of my own dwarves caught you in this conspiracy?"
"He threatened my life and the lives of my family." the dwarf admitted, "I... I wasn't supposed to know of his plans, but I overheard him. He told me I would participate or perish by his blade. Today, he sent me to remove all evidence of the hobbit's presence in the halls. If I remember correctly, he planned to take him to the abandoned silver mines."
Thorin did not speak for a few minutes, taking all the information in. The dwarf in front of him began to squirm as time passed, but stilled when he felt hands on his shoulders. "Take him to the dungeons for now." the king said, looking up once more, "I don't want him to change his mind and tell his kin we're coming. I will deliver a sentence after Master Baggins is found." | 4f2b49c785b64334b8af0ed30bd79af3 | ['ccdcbf60269a41598ba5b15ecdbaa1e4'] | Bilbo nodded. "I barely even thought about it." he admitted, "I handed Frodo and the Farfoots to the Gamgees and rushed into the fray. I barely remember any of the fight, except hearing the girls screaming. There were three orcs and more were coming. We disappeared into the bushes before they could see us. From there, we grabbed what we could to defend ourselves. When we found the Boffins, Clovis was trying to fight the orcs off with a rake. It was Hamfast and I who rushed into the fray to help him. We had barely fought off the orcs attacking them when we heard screams from down the road. The Bottomhills faked their deaths and the orcs fell for it, thankfully. Poor Peony couldn't walk, they had thrown her so hard. And the Lightfoots only had a shovel and a rolling pin, weren't doing much to the orcs either. We found most of the children hiding in the bushes just outside the forest when we fled."
"You said the elves found more hobbits, correct?"
"They said that they did, but they didn't give much detail." Bilbo confirmed, "I know the elves of Rivendell wanted to help, but most of their soldiers were injured and exhausted after spending weeks fighting off the orcs. They had to sneak us out, as the orcs who had attacked the Shire followed us... We believe that they still are after us, Bard received word from Mirkwood the day we arrived telling of orcs. They managed to get close enough to hear them talk about halflings..."
"That is what I need to know." Thorin said, "I will have to increase the security around the mountain. If what you say is true, they will be upon Dale within days and attack Erebor not much later... You go back in and rest. I will handle the situation.... And I'm sure you will have many visitors tomorrow."
Bilbo nodded and bowed. "Thank you, your majesty." he said.
"Please, just call me Thorin." he said, "It is wrong to hear a friend refer to me like that in private."
"Of course, Thorin." he said, a small smile on his face, "Again, thank you for this. I would not have brought them this far if I thought we had another choice."
"And again, your kind will always be welcomed in this mountain." he said, "Good night Bilbo."
"Good night Thorin."
2. More Questions than Answers
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> As the second day dawns on the hobbits, they begin to settle into life in Erebor, as well as search for answers to the questions they've had since fleeing the Shire. Sadly, a lot come with answers that offer little information or no answers at all. They also find the orcs are not ready to give up whatever they're after.
The morning after the arrival of the hobbits was hectic. Bilbo had woken up under a pile of sleeping faunts, which normally wasn't a problem. But the Ri brothers had come by to see him and it was near impossible to dislodge himself with waking them up. He had been talking with Ori to catch up on all that had happened during his time away when Frodo had woken up screaming. Then, when he got Frodo to calm down from whatever nightmare plagued him, Merry and Pippin had come to him asking for breakfast. Before he knew it, he had all the younger faunts at his feet, asking for first breakfast. Thankfully, Dori had taken it upon himself to help with the little ones and took him to the kitchens to get them some food while Nori and Ori stayed behind to keep them entertained.
Once they had the faunts fed, he had been pulled aside by Gerontius and Adamanta to discuss their plans from here. They were worried and understandably so. With orcs on their tail and having to trust their lives with people they knew nothing of, he couldn't blame them for their worries. It did get tiresome, having to repeatedly tell them that they were safe within the mountain and, as long as they respected their culture, they would be fine. And that had led to him having to explain the basics of dwarven culture, thankfully with the Ri's adding something to their conversation that he missed.
Then he had been all but kidnapped by the princes, who were excited to show their hobbit the mountain. That had only resulted in Frodo panicking, afraid that Bilbo wouldn't come back. He felt terrible for the ten-year-old, having lost his parents two years ago and when he finally began to relax at Bag's End, they were forced to run for their lives because of orcs. He had only calmed down once Kìli offered to let the faunt go with them and ride on his shoulders.
And finally, just as Fìli was showing Bilbo where the library was while Kìli was telling Frodo one of the dwarvish fairy tails, a horn had gone off. Both boys had frozen at the sound for a moment before rushing the hobbits back to the infirmary. They had given no explanation, only telling them to stay here and to not open the door until either they or one of the company had returned. All of them had gathered in a corner, the younger children whimpering and crying while the older ones did their best to keep them calm. The adults were gathered around them, acting as a living barrier.
No one came for them for another hour, but they could all hear the screaming from outside. All of them recognized the sounds of orcs attacking and they couldn't help but send terrified looks at each other. Why had they followed them so far? What exactly did they want from them? The orcs had their home in their control, had all the food they had harvested for the winter, and had nearly wiped hobbits from existence. Were they that determined to kill them all? |
cad58bf045a44443916bd5f3c6820595 | ['cce34664d6414fb7b952695e4b85838f'] |
Can't lose you again
**Author's Note:**
> It's my first fic in this fandom and I had really fun writing this. But I have to say that English isn't my mother tongue, but I tried my best. I hope there are not too many mistakes in there, whether grammatical or spelling.
I hope you enjoy reading.
Maybe you left some kudos or comment's =)
>
> I do not own any of the characters!!
“Please, I KNOW you remember something. And I can’t believe that you don’t care. Look at me, please”, her last words were more like a whimper.
“I DO remember but that doesn’t matter. I can’t stop right now just because of your stupid human feelings! I know you want me to be this Coulson guy but…” Sarge stopped in the middle of his sentence.
“What?”, Daisy asked, her hope slowly coming back. Sarge hesitated. He seemed thinking about what to say, HOW to say it. He stared at Daisy. She waited for him to speak again although that was NOT her “super power”. It felt like an eternity to Daisy when he finally started talking again.
“These things I remember are...personal…VERY personal, if you know what I mean…”, Daisy blushed slightly. Did he remember ERVERYTHING?
“I guess I know what you mean…”, she answered without looking at him. Just because he looked like Coulson, doesn’t mean he is Coulson. She tried to talk it over again and again.
“Yeah…so…I’m worried a can’t end my mission as long as you’re around”, he finally said and his words felt like a stab through Daisys heart.
“Oh, so you want me to let you go to kill Izel and probably kill yourself?”, now Daisy became angry. Sarge had Coulsons memories, that means he had to be there somewhere. At least that’s what she hoped. She just wanted Phil Coulson back and fight together with him against this new threat which wanted to destroy the earth. Which was, by the way, nothing new to them, but it was new, doing this without their real leader.
Sarge didn’t answer which only made her angrier. She slammed her fists on to the table where they sat and got up. She stared down, slightly shacking. What was she supposed to do now? Lock Sarge away, kill Izel and then try again bringing Coulson back? Maybe she should let him go and let him do his thing and… No way this is ever going to happen! The risk of losing him forever was too great. She needed a plan, a very good one. Daisy sighted, turned away from him and left the room. She needed some space now, being with Sarge was more painful than she thought it would be. Losing Coulson was the worst thing ever happened to her, she knew that now.
Daisy rushed to her room and closed the door behind her. She was walking up and down, thinking what to do. The door behind her opened and closed again. Daisy didn’t have to turn around to know who came in.
“Maybe it’s somehow like the androids. Your copy was mostly like you, she saved Jemma and my life’s. She wasn’t you, but somehow, she was. It’s complicated but maybe it’s the same with Sarge. Coulson has to be there somewhere. At least I hope so. I mean he said he would remember some personal stuff”, Daisy turned around to face May. May stood there, arms crossed in front of her chest, her back to the door so no one could come in. Her expression was unreadable.
“Yeah, I know he could have just lied but somehow, I don’t think he has…May I…” Daisy stopped talking, clapped her hands over her head and fell to her bed. She dropped her hands in her lap and sighed.
“May I can feel my head explode! I can’t handle this anymore”, Daisy started crying.
“I know how you’re feeling Daisy. I loved him too. You don’t have to handle that by your own”, May finally said.
“Wait. What? Did you just say you loved him TOO?” Daisy frowned. May loved Coulson… And what did May know? And HOW did she know? May’s look turned from understanding to her May typical you-really-think-you-told-me-something-new-? gaze.
“Daisy”, May said and sat down next to her. “I saw it every time you looked at him or you just were near him. This satisfied look and the sparkle in your eyes”, she sighed sadly before she started to speak again.
“And I know he loved you too”, she lovingly put her hand on Daisy’s.
“May, I’m so sorry…”, Daisy began to apologize but May interrupted her.
“No, you don’t have to be. It’s ok. That’s life and if I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be here anymore…so….do you already have any plans?”
“Not exactly but maybe we should talk to him together.”
“Maybe we should….”, May said absently.
“Wow, you brought your girlfriend with you?”, Sarge asked grinning. May snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Sarge, please…”, Daisy started but were interrupted by May again.
“That’s enough talking”, she said, slapping Daisy’s head to the table where Sarge was still sitting.
“What the…”, Daisy’s nose was bleeding and her head was buzzing. But before she could realize what was happening, May hit her in the stomach. Daisy now fell to her knees. Why would May hit her? Maybe she was possessed? They still don’t know what Sarge exactly was or from which planet he came. Was this one of his powers? Did he really lie to Daisy earlier? She knew he was annoyed by talking, but this…? | 82e28e15b128416ca6ee7cf907767b5d | ['cce34664d6414fb7b952695e4b85838f'] | “Holy shit!” you screamed. Your heart was beating like crazy but a few seconds later you recognized the man in front of you. He was the good looking guy from the bar and also from the dream. You cheeks blushed again and your head fell down. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. But on the other hand you needed to know who he was. It was only when you tried to lift your head again that you felt like you drank a whole liquid store but didn’t drank some water for a couple of days at the same time. You felt weak and your head was to heavy to lift it up.
“What’s your name?”, the man asked and gave you a worried look.
“Y/N”, you answered almost whispering. You hadn’t enough strength to make yourself known to the still foreign man who cowered beside you.
“Hello Y/N. My name is Castiel and I’m an angel of the lord”, he spoke as if it were the most normal thing on earth. You stared at him with disbelief.
“An…angel?”, you stuttered still confused. He nodded slightly and raised his hand. You flinched backwards unsure of what was coming.
“I just want to help you”, he said with his deep voice that chased shivers down your skin. You closed your eyes and waited. Castiel pushed two fingers against your forehead and instantly you felt pleasant warmth that flooded through your body. The discomfort you were suffering of was swept away and you opened your eyes again just to look in the most beautiful blue eyes you ever seen.
“How did you know I’m here?”, you asked Castiel after he helped you getting up.
“I didn’t know. We were hunting the dschinn and when we looked after him we found you instead”, his blue eyes wandered up and down your body and if you didn’t know better you would have thought he likes what he saw. His cheeks blushed slightly when he recognized you were observing him.
“With ‘we’ you mean the other two men who were with you in the bar a couple of days before?”, he looked at you confused but nodded in agreement.
“I …saw you there”, you stuttered when you recognized his still confused glimpse. You couldn’t deny that this guy was very attractive. You never were really shy but this man seemed to be someone special. Not just because he was an angel. There was something else. Something you couldn’t figure out yet. You knew it because you felt it at the very first moment you saw him in the bar.
“So…where are your friends?”, you looked around but nobody was there except Castiel and yourself.
“They’re burning the dead dschinn. Just in case”, he replied and pierced you with his gaze. You didn’t know what to say but you felt nervous. You never met an angel before but you imagined them differently. Definitely less hot. Just a few moments later the two men from the bar walked straight to you, smiling.
“Hey, you alright?”, the taller one asked with a wondering gaze. You nodded slowly. Again you felt embarrassed. You were caught by the dschinn just because you couldn’t control your mind. That was stupid. Although it was the first time for you hunting a dschinn things could have gone better.
“Yeah…thanks for the help”, you couldn’t hold his gaze because shame was overwhelming you. You never even needed help before. You were able to handle things by yourself. Your adoptive parents trained you hard till they disappeared. You didn’t know why or where but you were sure that there must be a ‘supernatural’ cause.
“No problem. I was caught by a dschinn, too, a couple of years ago. So…nothing to blame for”, the man with the shorter hair laughed slightly at you. His green eyes were sparkling in the light of the rising sun which shined through the shattered windows of the warehouse.
“Want to come with us? Just to recover yourself a little bit…”, the other guy blinked at you and waited for an answer.
A couple of month later…
You stayed at the bunker with the boys because you really liked each other and the Winchesters wanted to help you finding your parents. But that wasn’t that easy. You followed any information you could find. But there was nothing. You just came back from another hunt and you were really tired. So you decided to go straight to you room and find some sleep. As you opened the door you were confused. There were flowers everywhere, at the floor and on your bed. You slowly walked in looking around for someone. You actually didn’t know why somebody should bring al the flowers to your room.
“Hello? Someone here?”, you shouted but you got no response. A softly wing beating tore you out of your thoughts and you turned around quickly.
“Hello Y/N”
“Cas, what’s going on here?”, you asked surprised. A shy smile crossed his face and he was barely able to hold your gaze.
“Well…I heard about your failure today…so I thought…it would be a nice surprise…for you…I thought…maybe…you like flowers…”, he stuttered around. His cheeks blushed when he looked at the floor. You smiled softly at him and approached to him to kiss him gently on the cheek.
“It’s a beautiful surprise. Thank you, Cas”, he sighed in relief and smiled.
“Y/N, I wanted to talk with you…”, he began to speak. He seemed to be very nervous and you were wondering why he was so unsettled.
“Of course, what do you want to talk about?” and now it was your turn to become nervous. You had a crush on him since you first met and being so close to him chased shivers down your skin.
“I don’t know how to start…Y/N, I just wanted to say that I really like you…more than just ‘like’ I think…” your heart fluttered at his words. You couldn’t believe what he was trying to say.
“I like you, too… even more than that”, you replied a little unsure of what to do next. But before you could think even more about it you felt two warm lips pressed slightly against yours. You returned the kiss tenderly. And now you knew what to do next.
It was a little weird but the unsuccessful dschinn hunt a couple of month earlier was the best thing that ever happened to you. |
a1013073d0f54b8da0fbb534e64d6917 | ['cceedc12e17e47c2be2155fcd80de726'] | "I don't know. I guess maybe not." Jim hit the button for the elevator and cocked his head in thought. "I don't think Rafe and Brown said. They talked to a few different people, though."
"Right, right, but remember how Landry talked -- it didn't sound like he was the only guy who wasn't pleased with the organization. So there might be a handful of people who aren't too excited about marching in the parade tomorrow and appearing to support these organizations in particular, as opposed to veterans in general."
"What's your point, Chief?" Jim asked as Sandburg unlocked the loft door.
"Lemme make a couple of calls. Is Landry in the book?"
* * *
"Ellison. Sandburg. Glad you could join us." The Major Crime gang, all in uniform with the exception of Megan and Blair, gathered at the corner of 12th and Park, at the north end of the parade route.
"We're actually just here to say good morning, Simon," Blair said, holding his sunglasses between his teeth as he pulled back his hair. "Everybody feeling good, now that the pressure's off?"
"What do you mean?" Megan asked. "You're not leaving now you've been here, are you?"
"Nah." Jim slid his hands into his pockets. "We're meeting some people in a few minutes."
"To be scrupulously correct," Blair added, putting his sunglasses back on and wrapping his scarf tightly, "Jim is meeting some people. I'm here to march with you guys, actually. Who has some coffee for me?"
"What's going on, Ellison?" Brown asked.
"Some things Simon said clicked when we got home last night," Jim explained. "Seems I'm here simply as a veteran, not endorsing any particular group or organization. So Sandburg called around and rustled up some other veterans who don't care to endorse any particular group, and we're going to march together."
"As a group." Megan grinned.
"Laugh it up, Connor," Jim said, poking her with his elbow. "We're the most unorganized group here. Just a bunch of orphan vets."
"Here comes some of your posse, Jim," Blair said. Coming up the block was a cluster of men in dark business suits; a few had flag lapel pins, but mostly they were unadorned. Besides Ben Landry, there were seven or eight guys Blair didn't recognize. Right on their heels were three women he'd talked into appearing, and just a few minutes later Jerry Brandt turned up with a group of six men and women behind him.
"This isn't a bad idea, Ellison," Simon said as the parade organizers started to call to the assembled public servants through megaphones. "I knew you'd come up with something when I spoke to you yesterday evening."
"Did you, sir?" Jim said, eyebrow raised good-naturedly.
"Absolutely. Management skills and motivation. That's why they pay me the big bucks." Simon grinned around his cigar and clapped Jim on the shoulder. "See you later."
"See you later," Jim nodded. "Have fun without me, everybody." He tugged on a curl of Blair's hair and tapped his cheek lightly with the flat of his hand. "See you on the flip side. We'll grab lunch on the way home." Jim stepped away to walk with the other unaffiliated veterans.
"So, how should we form up, guys?" Blair said, turning back to the Major Crime group. How many of us are there --" He had started to count heads when Simon glared at him. "What?"
"Nobody's _forming up_, Sandburg. This isn't the high school band."
Blair looked around at the faces of his co-workers. Everyone was stifling laughter, except Megan, who shrugged. "Do we even step in time?"
The rest of the team gave up their struggles and laughed out loud. "Sandburg," said Brown, "have I ever told you how glad I am you're a part of this team?" He pressed a hand to his side, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Picking on Rafe was never as much fun as picking on you."
"You've added years to our lives, buddy," Ramos agreed with a grin.
"You're welcome," Blair smiled. "So, seriously -- do we just sort of ... go?"
"Yep," Simon nodded, crushing his cigar against the edge of a wastebasket and dropping the butt inside. "Ready?"
"Maybe I won't put this in my paper," Blair muttered to Megan as they stuck their hands in their pockets and set off along the parade route. "Get everybody together in uniform and wave the colors and stuff, and then all they do is take a walk? Some ritual."
Blair could feel Jim looking over at him while he rinsed the lunch dishes and set them to dry. He knew it was because he was so attuned to Jim's mood and presence, but he couldn't quite convince himself it wasn't because the heat of Jim's gaze was like a beam of fire. For the fifth time, he pushed a lock of hair off his forehead and behind his ear; the crisp breeze during the parade had played havoc with his ponytail. Jim came to stand behind him at the sink. "Just let it go," he murmured, setting his hands on Blair's shoulders and nipping gently at his neck. "You know if you tie it back it'll just come out again." He nipped again, harder. "Might as well turn it loose."
Blair tipped his head to the side and hummed for a second. "But it's so much trouble when it's loose. Messy. Gets in the way." He twisted to face Jim for a brief kiss.
"I know," Jim whispered. "I also happen to think it looks better." He grinned and pulled the tie out of Blair's curls.
"You're not the one who has to deal with it," Blair said, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"Of course I am. You shed all over the place. You don't think I find your hair stuck to my pillow, in all my sweaters, everywhere?" Jim tightened his grip. "But I put up with it, because I love you." | 541e633ce0664c3a89b269dfb4ae9a26 | ['cceedc12e17e47c2be2155fcd80de726'] | Faster, now, but not as deep. Martigan could hear Airk's breath speed up, above him. He gritted his teeth and arched his back up, tried to get his spine up near Airk's body. Airk moved one hand to his shoulder and kept fucking him, hard, and then suddenly in one motion Airk wound an arm around Martigan's chest and pulled him up, sat back on his heels and pulled Martigan back with him. Each threw an arm up to brace a hand against the post, so they wouldn't pitch forward; Airk had Martigan's other hand pinned to his side, so Martigan couldn't touch his cock, couldn't reach back and get his fingers in Airk's hair, couldn't do anything. When he tried to use his other hand, Airk grabbed his wrist, and the angles were all wrong for Martigan to be able to pull free; all he could do was tip his head back and shut his eyes.
Airk was close; Martigan could tell by the way he trembled. He could feel Airk's breath on the back of his neck, and then he could hear Airk's soft, low groan as he came. Martigan was finally able to tug his arm away, and although it was his wrong hand, he was desperate enough that it only took a couple of strokes, and Airk's hand on his belly, and he came almost as hard as Airk had done. They slumped down to the blankets and lay together for the length of about six heaving breaths; then Airk pushed Martigan away, pulled his clothing back into place, and went back to his own blankets and huddled up to go back to sleep.
Martigan lay catching his breath, sticky, sore, still feeling Airk's teeth and tongue and beard and cock. He looked through the darkness at the darker lump that was Airk in his bundle of bedding, sleeping alone, not holding him. "Fuck," he whispered to himself, when he realized what his plan was going to have to be.
* * *
Ingen's rationale had made sense to Martigan when she explained why it was safer not to tell Koppan that Prince Tualas was her baby's father. He understood now that he also couldn't tell Airk, for the same basic reasons. There was a chance Airk might not believe him. But if Airk believed him, one of three things would happen. Airk might resign his commission and finish his service with Koppan followed by a life of who knows what; or he might threaten the prince and lose his commission and his position with Koppan as well; or he might clench his fists and serve in the army under a prince he despised. In any case, even though Airk believed Martigan, most others would likely believe the prince, so Airk would have little hope of success whichever of these options he chose.
No, the whole plan depended on nobody knowing the truth. Nobody but Martigan, of course. Well -- and Ingen. And Tualas, but he was the one who'd have to live with himself. Martigan sat up most of the night making sure he had it all worked out in his mind. He'd tell Ingen; it wouldn't do for her to be surprised. She'd try to talk him out of it, she'd tell him he was mad, but she'd see that this was the only way for her and her father, and Airk, to survive. Martigan would be all right out there in the world. It was where he was going anyway -- only now he was going sooner, and alone. Airk would have done the same, he was sure -- and not told him about it, either -- if their situations had been reversed.
So he'd tell Ingen. And then he'd go up to the castle and challenge the prince to a match. He'd fight left-handed, and the prince would disarm him, and he would punch him in the jaw just as Airk had done to him the previous day. He'd be banished, of course. And when he went to collect his few belongings, he would confess to Koppan that he was the father of Ingen's child, and he would take her, but they would have to leave and never return. Koppan would forbid this, and Martigan would go -- but Koppan would keep his position, Airk would keep his commission, and Ingen and her fatherless child would keep their honour.
Martigan took a deep breath. It was just barely dawn. He crept over to where Airk slept and, careful not to wake him, leaned over and kissed his mouth. Airk stirred and parted his lips; Martigan struggled against the impulse to deepen the kiss, which would surely bring Airk out of sleep and end in disaster. He drew back slowly and looked at Airk for one more long moment, then turned and climbed silently down the ladder.
**Author's Note:**
> This was deceptively hard, probably because the source was written by George Lucas and therefore there's precious little to build on; bless his heart, any depth his characters have, the actors brought with them. So, you know, it's not that I can't come up with backstory on my own [note: there is apparently more backstory in some novelization or other, as well as earlier drafts of the screenplay, but we know how I feel about the canonicity of that sort of thing, right? of course right.], but that's two jobs in one, man. |
1fb3971cacb04150b5f97ada175e53fb | ['cd01413211954047828e0e1a668ac44e'] |
Like a flood of pain
**Author's Note:**
> something something memes jack
> put off the pain inhibitors
> time to yuuya to let 're rip [sick guitar intro] wash away the anger
>
> In other words, very quick fic, that wasn't as quick as I wanted and not as purple prose-ish, about whatever Yuuya has inside his soul, that somehow is physical?, and the fact that there are nanomachines now (let's face it, there kinda are), and my "Metal Gear Arc V - The Phantom's Pain" crack theory.
> I'm not really sorry, honestly, I always wanted to make this not-so-joke comparison between Yuuya and MGR!Raiden.
>
> The title is taken from "The Stains Of Time"'s lyrics, Monsoon's boss theme.
**Y** ou wait, in your recess, deep in a maze of sombre secrets creeping along the meninges, a warm angle where you sit and don't open your eyes, listening to the sounds of blood rushing in the veins and arteries at the rhythm of life.
You laugh, when you realise your host hates that sound. You host often tries to sleep immediately, but ends up listening to his own heartbeat, realising how frail he really is, brooding over how inherently terrifying his own bodily functions are. Your host is now particularly scared, as he's forced to sit in a small room, lying to himself about his destiny, about his situation as a cornered prey. His thoughts are all about saving other people, when he should care about himself first, how to get out of the prison he was put in, but you do not blame his miserable intelligence - he has always deceived himself, unwittingly exposing his weaknesses, one by one, to you.
You grit your fangs, when his heartbeat falls to a calmer pace, chemicals injected with a needle piercing his skin reacting with his synapsises, forcing his conscience to drift away, but you feel the scalpel cutting under the lowest line of hair, surgical instruments messingly inserting a cold piece of metal into his brain, connecting his matter to its electrical circuits. You are aware why they're messing with his brain, he might not suspect it until he wakes up and feels the small cut on his neck, but you already know, you already fight, but you aren't powerful yet.
You need something that satisfies your hunger, lets you gain strength, so that you can control your host.
They cannot control your host, only you can, only you have to.
Your host is trembling, touching his fresh scar. You read his thoughts of fear, as his digits press the thin lumps of gore, the only trace that remains of their filthy procedures. They won't have him, you will have him instead.
They don't know yet, but they have just signed their loss. As soon as they activate their little machine, a flood of pain pours down your host's senses. His mind is fighting, as if it grew nails on its own, pushing against the stimuli the chip is sending, to let them control him like a puppet, and of course his will desires to be free.
Unfortunately for him, his nerves aren't strong, and he's quickly overwhelmed by pain.
Unfortunately for them, you feed on that pain and anger, you feast on his terror, on his anguished screams, the music that arouses your fury, you drink off his tears, like a nectar that cures your old wounds, fills your being with power, makes you grow larger.
Stronger.
You're free to move in his brain, seeking your pleasure in that stormy ocean of pain. You reach his core, with your sticky, gooey claws, you can almost smell his souls, and you yearn for the day you can devour them whole, become entire as you were in times lost in the sand, but that time hasn't come. You have to sit and wait for the right time, when you'll have all of them. But what you have right now is already perfect.
You scream out your joy, and it's the most wonderful feeling, as you realise your host is no more under their control, but under yours. You haven't felt the sensation of owning a body in an eternity. It's marvelous to sense all the nerves controlling every act of his body, the gurgle of his intestines, the creak of his bones, the murmurs of his lungs, and most of all, the steady percussion of his heart, the rush of his blood. It's not simply hearing it, you can feel it, as if it were your very own heart pumping. That is your heart, you own it, like you own his lungs, his legs, his spine and brain. And the pain, dear gods, it's excruciating, a thousand burning pins hammering to the marrow, so painful it's maddening, it paralyses you as if it's drowning with a flood of acid, and it make you feel alive! It's not the simple awareness of pain, there aren't any mediations between you and his pain; that is your pain now, in your shaking muscles and bones, blurring your sight with your hot tears.
You do not care about your host's original mind, it probably ran away in a corner, like the one you had to survive in. He's horrified, surely, somewhere lost, and that only dries your throat with wild laughter. You are ecstatic, you are in control, you want to enjoy every single moment, mark your power with every action. You want the crowd to scream, hear their cries with your ears, your eardrums vibrating.
It's your moment to rise and shine, to let them taste what despair feels like.
_And it's your turn to draw_.
**Author's Note:**
> AND IT WILL COME LIKE A FLOOD OF PAIN [wob wob wob wob wob] POURING DOWN ON ME
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJ-8TdpkfDA
> | 6395f696a5e1487a898b060d7cfa2ae2 | ['cd01413211954047828e0e1a668ac44e'] | Yuuya opens his eyes to a small island and clear water around it, while a cheerful piano version of “A Cruel Zarc’s Thesis” plays in the background. Around him, people are cheering and clapping.
The camera moves on to Ray, exclaiming “Congratulations!”.
Cut.
Onto Yuzu, saying “Congratulations!”.
Yet again, now we see Selena, quietly supporting with her “Congratulations”.
Then, even if she barely had screentime, Rin applaudes “Congratulations!”.
Gongenzaka manly shouts “Congratulations!” and he’s so manly he can clap with only one hand.
Ruri smiles “Congratulations!” and promotes her brother’s Raid Raptors like everything in this anime.
Neo New Mega Galactic Super Extra Fresh Crème Sawatari saves the day with his “Congratulations!”.
Shun is OOC and smiles genuinelly and doesn’t hate the world, instead claiming “Congratulations!”.
Crow is always there, because they thought putting him everywhere was a good idea. It’s not. He makes penguins noises which would actually spell “BUY BLACKWINGS” instead of “Congratulations!”; the penguins noises is because that’s how the original goes.
Reiji, now with a black band on his arm to represent the loss of his scarf, goes “Congratulations just as planned”. He plans everything, the man.
Jack, dubbed by Martin Billany, comes in and scream “CONGRATULATIONS ON MOTORCYCLES!”.
For some reason, Kaito has a girl voice. There’s no Asuka because she was useless and didn’t deserve this. He claps “Congratulations”.
Despite having caused all of this stuff, Leo looks the happiest he’s ever looked and he also joins the celebration with “Congratulations!”.
Yuushou and Yoko are clearly proud of their son, and their soft “Congratulations!” is full of love.
Yuuya is the very definition of perplexity, his smile is unsure, but from the bottom of his heart he says “Uhm… thank you all!”
The screen goes black, followed by white Japanese lettering:
**WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT**
**CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN**
**FIRST YOU CANCEL PT THEN YOU MAKE MGS PACHINKO AND NOW THIS**
**FUCK YOU KONAMI**
**Author's Note:**
> where's yusaku |
c5e1938d3b7a4bdead6e711d54b88748 | ['cd0e804293f54cda8d1006b102126ceb'] | Chloe feels ashamed. “But what if he can’t forgive me for being scared?”
_(What if she was too awful to the Devil?)_
Linda leans forward to rest her hand on top of hers, her eyes kind and forgiving and understanding in the way that only Linda can be, as if she sees right to where Chloe’s hurting and says, “He will, Chloe. He knew you would run that’s why he didn’t show you his proof. On some level, he knew how you would react. But he didn’t expect _this_ and for that, he needs time. Just give him time.”
It takes Chloe a while to believe her.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i really feel like Chloe also needed to understand why she hurt Lucifer. It's definitely understandable and okay for her to be terrified out of her freaking mind but I think in order for her to accept Lucifer, she needed to understand what being the devil meant to him.
>
> I think the show eventually got it handled but I always like my conversations a little more explicit and less subtext.
>
> what did you guys think about how Chloe reacted, and how the show handled it?
3. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change (I'm ready to try and never become that way again)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lucifer forgives.
In the end, it’s because she doesn’t blink.
“Lucifer, enough,” She sighs, turning the safety on her gun back on and reholstering it. She would’ve preferred if it hadn’t come to this but, well—it was effective. And less bloody. It’s much easier to cuff the perp when they’re still mobile, just cowering, rather than bloody and dying.
Lucifer turns to look at her, full Devil face on, and scoffs, “But Detective, this scumbag deserves to be punished!”
She grabs her handcuffs and brushes past him, kneeling down to cuff the perp who’s incoherently begging for Lucifer to stay away. She rolls her eyes and looks up at Lucifer, “And he will—in jail. We have an airtight case on this guy, there’s no way he’s walking away anytime soon.”
She drags the perp up onto his feet and glares at Lucifer, “Got it?”
He blinks and he’s back to his normal face, “Got it, Detective,” he murmurs, looking at her strangely.
She squints at him, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He has that look on his face when as if he can’t believe she’s standing right in front of him, like he’s just seen something new and surprising for the first time.
He opens his mouth and then closes it, and does it again before he finally manages, “You seem quite . . . unperturbed, Detective.”
A uni comes and collects the perp from her so she turns her attention back to Lucifer. “It’s not my first rodeo, Lucifer.”
He steps a little closer into her space, and she hates how every cell in her body starts to hum because of it. “You’re not scared, Detective.” Immediately, the situation makes sense, like understanding a new language for the first time, and she shifts under his intense scrutiny. He’s staring at her as if he can find her thoughts tattooed on her skin and she knows in the pit of her gut, in the same place that tells her a suspect is actually innocent or that something isn’t lining up, that _this is it_ and she _cannot mess this up_.
So she resolutely does not square her shoulders, does not cross her arms, but just gazes back at him and tells him, “No, I’m not scared.” She hopes that he understands what she is saying: that she understands who he is and that she’s not scared of him because she believes in Lucifer, her partner, and believes that her partner is a man with many demons (both literal and figurative) and she thinks he’s stronger than all of them.
The way his eyes shatter as he takes in her words breaks her heart. Lucifer wouldn’t agree, but he is the most emotive person she knows. He wears his feelings on his cheeks, his emotions practically rolling off of him in Lucifer-sized waves. And it shakes her to her core that she put that pain in his eyes.
“What changed, Detective?” He whispers, broken.
She smiles—because of course, he still doesn’t know, her silly Devil—and reaches out to touch his cheek, “Nothing, Lucifer. I just needed to realize that.”
Lucifer’s face scrunches up like he’s straining against something inside of him that won’t break, “I thought you hated that part of me—the devilish side, the _evil_ side.” He’s whispering now, as if saying it too loud will break her again, and she’s endlessly frustrated that it took her this long to realize what she had done to Lucifer.
She understands now why it was painful for him, why he said the things that he said.
_“But I don’t like the way you make me feel either.”_
_“You’ll never have to see anything monstrous ever again.”_
She was his mirror and she threw everything he hated about himself back at him by looking away—by fearing him.
She has to make it right.
She leans into Lucifer’s space, “Lucifer, it is a _part_ of you. It helps make you, _you_. And well,” she doesn’t know how to say this part because this part is _a lot_ and it’s hard but she has to so she forces the words out of her mouth, “I like _you_.”
Lucifer reels back as if he’s been electrocuted but she steels herself and keeps going, she _has_ to say this, “Once I realized that, it wasn’t hard to stop being scared. You’re who you’ve always been with me, Devil face or not, and now I can see all the parts that make you _my partner_.” | 8babd840a836415eaf4116deed43afa9 | ['cd0e804293f54cda8d1006b102126ceb'] | Keith tangles one hand in Lance's hair, holding him close to him, probably a bit too hard but Lance isn't complaining, yet. He doesn’t know the words to soothe Lance because he honestly doesn’t know either if they’d get a chance to see Lance’s family again. So he redirects, "I think they'd be more interested in your giant killer robot than me," he guesses.
Lance chuckles, "Probably. Mateo would beg me to take him for a ride. Probably Jackie and Luca, too."
Keith prays this is going to work and continues hesitantly, "But then they'd experience your atrocious piloting."
He can almost feel Lance's pout, " M'not that bad."
"Yes, you are. You nearly took off our supply ship's wing the other day."
Lance looks up, tightening his hold on Keith and resting his chin on Keith's shoulder, "But I didn't."
Keith smiles fondly at his boyfriend, "Yeah, you might just be getting better." Lance scowls childishly and Keith just wants to kiss the scowl right off his face.
So he does.
....
So yeah, Keith might not be a master at knowing when Lance is upset but he might just be getting better.
**Author's Note:**
> this is a standalone fic but I wrote the summary as if this was a fic dump so I might just drop any standalone klance fics in here. who knows? certainly not me. |
6e4e41e5ac254c47bea5df7e25ff3185 | ['cd15a00721b94ed0b4a1e74d6464d27e'] | Stiles snaps his fingers in front of her face, and Lydia focuses. Stiles. And Malia. And Kira. And Liam, and Scott, and Mason.
_Allison. Jackson. Boyd. Erica. Aiden._
She shakes her head and tries to hold onto Malia grinding a noogie into Stiles’ head for stealing her tater tots. In the distance, something calls out her name.
Not Allison. Why hasn’t Allison reached out to her?
~
Lydia lies awake in her bed that night. She doesn’t feel tired in the slightest. Feels like she can go for days. Weeks. Has the power of of the sun running through her veins, spilling light out of tiny, fleshy constructs to shine through the pores of her skin and light up the room.
And then _It’s_ there.
She isn’t afraid. Not even sure if she can be. Fear laps at the back of her mind like a distant relic. Cuneiform on a crumbling, clay tablet.
It has a name.
_Vassago._
It sounds familiar. She ought to look it up.
Vassago leans over her, skin shifting from ebony to marble, to nothing at all. Then it smiles. Smiles and says “welcome home”.
~
Lydia wakes up in her bed. It’s dawn.
~
She made a bridge at some point. A bridge for a banshee to try and reach the dead.
She knows better now. She _IS_ death. She was always there.
Scott waves a hand in front of face. He looks concerned.
Oh. They’re in school again. Chemistry? Isaac is offering her kanima-poisoned candy.
No. American History. The classroom is empty and Kira and Scott are hovering in front of her.
Stiles wants to meet with her, take her to Deaton. She refuses. She has places to be. So many places.
How did she get home?
Daddy?
An empty house. Mom had detention duty. Dad is gone away.
~
Vassago comes again at night. Lydia is waiting.
Oh, she had meant to look the name up.
It places a hand on her head and whispers for her to sleep.
~
Lydia wakes up in her bed. It’s dawn.
~
Stiles is Stiles. And Scott is Scott. They’re permanent today. Like today is today. They’re tangible, and she can hold onto them.
Why couldn’t she hold on to Allison?
~
Vassago comes again. Smiles, mouth all full of teeth and empty and bright.
“It’s been so long since one of you found the way home.”
Lydia is confused.
Vassago lays a hand on her head again, and whispers for her to sleep. They have time.
~
Lydia wakes up in her bed. It’s dawn.
~
She looks up Vassago online.
The crown Prince of Hell.
Maybe she should be worried. Maybe she should go to Deaton or Ms. Morrell.
Sunlight runs through her veins, and death breathes out of her lungs.
No.
They wouldn’t understand anyway.
~
Vassago comes again.
“You’re a demon.”
It smiles. Bright and furious.
“To some. And angel to others.”
Lydia reaches out, and Vassago takes her hand, corporeal and warm.
“And to me?”
It smiles again. It smiles so beautifully.
“To you, I’m family.”
~
Lydia wakes up in her bed. It’s dawn.
~
She’s missing information. She knows this. But she’s not even sure where the hole in the puzzle is, much less to what she needs to actually find.
A scrap of paper twists in the wind and slaps her across the eyes. When she looks at it, she sees a phone number. She hears a symphony.
She calls.
A witch answers.
~
“Tell me about banshees.”
The woman, older, living on the edge of town in a cozy little bungalow with a white picket fence, offers her spearmint tea and bids her to sit.
“I’ve waited for one of you for so long.”
Lydia blows on her tea to cool it. Takes a sip anyway.
“Threads of Brigid. You were trapped. Unraveled. They stuffed you into flesh, they wanted to stop you both from starting a line. To hurt you. To hurt _her_. You hurt so badly after they took your first son, and then they came for you. She couldn’t survive losing you. She split herself in to fragments, burrowed into human blood and veins and gave herself up to stay with you, until you could find your way home.”
Tears are tracking down Lydia’s face. The sun and fire running under her skin are her, and they’re love, and they’re home and belonging. She reaches just the barest hint further, and touches the beyond again, and _OH._
_I HAVE MISSED YOU._
__
_I. AM._
~
When she comes back to herself, she’s outside. The house is gone. Never existed, yet served its purpose anyway.
She’s still holding her cup of tea.
~
Vassago comes to her again at night.
“You’re not ready yet.”
“For what?”
“To be all that you are. This body isn’t complete.”
“When can I come home?”
“When you find your other half.”
~
Lydia wakes up in bed. It’s dawn.
~
Ms. Morrell shows up on her doorstep. Her face is drawn, tight.
“I’ll help you.”
Lydia laughs. Why now? Isn’t it a little late? She looks, looks, and sees Deucalion and Ms. Morrell running in fear.
Fingers snap in front of her face.
“I’ll help you.”
Apparently finding herself has precipitated the need for someone to fix the balance. She doesn’t know what’s out of balance yet. Can’t solidify it enough beyond everything else to grasp it.
A thought flits across her eyes, it’s a rainbow.
“You didn’t want me to find out. You knew I would.”
Ms. Morrell cocks her head every so slightly.
“We maintain the balance.”
Lydia doesn’t trust her.
~
When Vassago comes at night, she asks about the missing piece. About _her_.
“You weren’t the only one of you who was put away.”
Lydia feels a spark in her chest, a star blooms where her heart is.
“Allison.” | 93ce9570b8b246209e20492061d522cb | ['cd15a00721b94ed0b4a1e74d6464d27e'] | So she tells him. Some of it. Tells him that she's trying to form a permanent bridge so she can communicate clearly. No more of the fugue states, no more half hints that she can never figure out until it's too late. (These aren't lies either.) She insists that she's not going to be the weak link, throws him off to another worry. Let him go back to Scott and fuss and fret over Lydia feeling inadequate. That's all he'll get. Part of her, a darker part of her, something she's not even sure she's terribly ashamed of, remembers a nogitsune pressing her up against the wall of the remnants of an internment camp, ordering an Oni to run Allison through the gut with its sword. All while wearing Stiles' face.
Maybe Stiles knows that part of her still blames him. He does leave, face still scrunched up, looking mildly constipated. But he throws a parting shot over his shoulder, warns her to be careful about building her bridge, that bridges allow for things to cross from two ways, not just one.
(She already knows this, she's counting on it.)
Deaton is last. And he has a solid idea of what she's up to. When he confronts her and warns her not to follow her current line of "study", Lydia's only response is "tough shit". For all he and Ms. Morrell are supposed to be emissaries, they've done absolutely nothing for her. How long had they sat on the knowledge of what she was? Are they sitting on the knowledge of what Jordan is? Do they know how to bring Allison back?
Lydia assumes they have some inkling. After all, it only took seconds for Jennifer to name her as a banshee. Granted, she immediately tried to kill her, but if Jennifer knew, Deaton and Ms. Morrell surely would have. And they kept it from her. Looked her right in the eye, and withheld that information. Seriously, if they think they have any right to lecture her on keeping the balance, they can honestly go screw themselves. They weren't there when Lydia needed them, and from her perspective, the only balance they seem intent to keep is some nebulous, arbitrary determination of their own making.
She gives absolutely nothing away, no confirmation or denial. A flounce of her head, dry and brittle hair flipping over her shoulder, and sashays away.
(She’s so tired of waiting for people to help her, she’ll help herself from now on.)
~
It takes three more “Chernobyl” blasts before Lydia can get the bridge to stabilize. At first all she can see is a flicker. Hear a ghost of a whisper tickling her ears. It’s something. She can work with something.
Two months of practice go by, and Lydia learns to tune out the “static” noise. Babble and groaning of spirits or something else that have realized Lydia’s locked in on their frequency. She’d like to think that if it were a true warning, if there were a danger waiting, she’d stop and listen. As it is, she never has the chance to put that thought to the test. All she hears are grumblings of things left undone, petty grievances, and a few attempts of not-spirits (she’s not sure she’s ready to name them anything else) trying to cross that bridge over to her.
Lydia is ready for attempts. Has a stockpile of every supernatural defense she can find. Wolfsbane packets sewn into her clothing, rosemary and basil ground together in a little posey worn around her neck. Protective sigils painted into her skin every morning when she wakes, and every evening before bed. Whatever tries to cross isn’t so powerful as to succeed. But, Lydia knows it will only be a matter of time before something stronger finds her. And she needs to find what she’s looking for first.
She wonders why she hasn’t been able to hear Allison yet. Wonders, not for the first time, if Allison accepted her fate and had passed on, farther beyond Lydia’s current reach.
She hopes not.
~
A month later, Lydia finds a thread to follow. A small, gossamer thing, just wafting in the ether. Lydia imagines closing her fist around it, and her body lights up like a Christmas tree. She feels full, she’s everywhere, in everything. And then she’s not.
She’s floating, weightless, free from everything and everyone save the thread in her hand. She feels compelled to follow it. Why shouldn’t she? She has nothing else to do. The thread is calling to her. Asking her to come.
She goes. The further she follows, the more a burning curiosity grows in the pit of her stomach. Part of her remembers that she’s left something behind, something important. But the thread in her hand is hot and burning, and the warmth is soothing. She’s closer. To what, she’s not sure, but it’s calling out to her. Joyfully, so happy. It’s jubilant and Lydia wants to find the end and join in the rapturous chorus with it. Please, please wait for her. She’s coming, she’s coming.
There’s end end. Is it the end?
It’s not the end at all.
Oh.
It’s so big.
It’s infinite.
So much more.
Eternity is swirled with the birth of the stars.
Beyond is the blackest night.
And _OH!_
There it is!
Color and nothing, and light and dark, and _FURTHER_.
~
Lydia wakes up in her bed. It’s dawn.
~
Something is different. She sees the pack, and they’re there. Sitting in the cafeteria. But it’s more than the cafeteria and it’s less, and she can’t focus on all of the threads to weave them back together. Allison and Jackson are sitting and baiting each other into a bowling game, and now Scott is feeding his french fries to Kira. Then, two boys Lydia doesn’t know, and the school isn’t there at all. It’s woods. And the boys have guns. |
e0a06b5d70104e04860b9f3d4358502e | ['cd255f3c96da4e1f826d9809f0931416'] | The ace smiled and the libero was winking at them while the setter kept reading the book he had been reading during the class.
-Sirius always a pleasure
And they left without another word, and now the James and Peter were looking at Sirius who was just frowning and looking the kid leave with the last word, they didn't understand and Sirius stopped looking at the retreating backs and he looks at them.
-He is my brother
-Wait...what?!
He was walking away, he was going to the showers and he was fast but James, who had stood there flabbergasted went after him while grabbing Peter's hands, they caught up to him before he entered the shower. James was opening his mouth when Sirius stopped him by raising his hands.
-Regulus younger brother, don't get along, lost touch. Now you know what I know.
Peter know it wasn't the whole story, they knew that Sirius had left his family at a young age, they didn't know the whole story but they did have suspicions about his family but this was the first time he mentioned Regulus.
Sirius went to the showers and James was standing next to him.
-There is something he isn't telling us
-You think?
James could be kind of oblivious to the idea that people sometimes were as smart and fast in catching people lies, he had a bigger ego than him but not than Sirius.
-The problem now is how...
-We get the truth
-We get Regulus to enter the team
Awkward silence.
-Right! First Sirius, then the team, of course, I knew that
Peter was looking at James who was blushing and looking somewhere else, sometimes Peter thought that James care more about the team than their friends, he was too competitive, he cared about his friends, about them, he really did, it was just that he loved volleyball, however, in this moment it seemed weird, more when he said Regulus and he didn't mention Regulus friends. Weird.
-I am going to take a shower
-Mhh
That afternoon they were going to Sirius flat, he had a good place he pays with his after-school job and some money an uncle left him behind, it was a usual thing for them to go there after a long day at school, or after the first week of school, what wasn't usual was that James was arriving late because he had some things to attend, that was a first and Peter had seen James asking directions to go to someones house and Peter thought that he may knew where James was going.
**\------**
They were walking in silence, they were one of the last people to leave the school as Remus went looking for a book and Bart had had detention for some prank he pulled to some underclassmen, while he had been hiding from James that wouldn't stop pushing him about the volleyball team, or well he tried to push but Regulus was fast, he was also trying to avoid Sirius, Sirius his oldest brother who he hadn't seen since the start of the second world war, Sirius hadn't seen him but he had and since then, since finding out that his brother was alive and well he had kept his distance as Sirius had done.
Their house wasn't near the school but they had decided to walk for this week so they could get accustomed to the town they were now living, it was a two hours walk if they were feeling lazy or it could be ten minutes or less, alas today they were lazy and in need to absorb what had happened that day, it took Bart ten minutes to break that silence.
-So, that was Sirius?
Remus stopped reading and was watching him while Bart was smocking his second cigarette.
-The one and only
-Do we like him?
-It's your choice Barty, not mine
-Ok, but do you like him?
Remus always went with the right question, the direct one, the one that everyone wanted to know the answer to.
-I don't know him to like him or dislike him
And that was that the silence didn't last because Bart started talking about the kid he had pranked and Remus would talk about the latest book he was reading, they were trying and he was grateful, they were his family and friends who knew him very well.
-Whos turn is it to cook dinner?
-Not it
-Not it
They were selfish little rats who hadn't cook dinner over a week, Remus would cook some simple lunch for them and Bart would just survive from the blood pop that Regulus made as a snack, that meant that it was Bart turn, however Bart was a disaster in cooking so it was better if it was him that cook the dinner.
-Is spaghetti good for you?
-With meatballs?
-With meatballs
-Sure
Remus was smiling behind the book and Bart was fist pumping, his idiot's friends, and family. The silence broke off again when Bart started another conversation but now with Remus.
-What time is he coming?
-After and he is bringing someone
-Oh, is he now?
Bart was smiling, Remus was turning his eyes and Regulus knew that Bart and he were thinking the same thing that their little wizard had probably found that companion that he had been looking for.
-Don't
-Aw come on, you can't tell us that and don't expect to us to react
-I expect you to be the adults you are
-You are expecting too much
-True that | 189517d762544e21a8d854dceb96d7fb | ['cd255f3c96da4e1f826d9809f0931416'] | Regulus touched his healed hand that still had the gauze that James had used to treat it and he smiles ad the memory of it as with the rest of the memory of that day "Me too, an amazing one, it will be difficult to top this one next year"
"Is that a challenge I hear" Barty was up and above looking at him as he drank from his flask "Because challenge accepted!" Regulus started smoking while Barty started to scream to the top of his lungs "Challenge accepted!"
And Regulus was laughing because that was carefree and young Barty who could always make him laugh and who always ended this day the same way,
"Happy birthday Barty" And Barty bow to him and then smile at him "Happy birthday to you Regulus"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hi! I am sorry! At first it was just a block then I got lazy, and I am a disgrace, you have permission to hate me, sorry, I don't know when I will update this FF but I will update it and finish it, I can't promise that I won't disappear again because that would be a lie.
> The secret between B and R is about the dual birthday
> Next chapter we will know more about the James part,
> and yes it's short, sorry!
> I hope you like it!!!
7. Hunger
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> James is a sucker,
> Barty and Peter are plotting,
> Sirius has a really stupid plan,
> Remus is somehow in the middle
> and Regulus isn't hungry, alright?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> it's weird, I know, sorry, hope you like it and thanks for all the support!
"What happened to your hair?"
"What happened to your face?"
The two questions have been said at the same time, but they had a different story behind them. And also they were asked by different persons at different times.
_**\----** _
"You like him?" There were disgust and venom in that word and James knew he was screwed that he had made a mistake, that there was a reason friends were before potential partners, but he couldn't stop his feelings and he couldn't lie, he liked Regulus and he was best friends with Sirius and he wanted both, he was selfish and wanted both. "Yes" And at that moment when he saw the punch coming to him, he didn't think of defence, block or response, he just thought that he wanted another cigarette and he had it coming.
\----
"Oh, you know me, picking fights and getting hit in my perfect, beautiful, attractive face" He had been wearing glasses, thinking he was oh so smart by wearing them, that no one would suspect or ask, he thought it was as good as makeup but alas it wasn't
"Yeah, I know you and you never let anyone hit your face, your balls? Sure, your stomach? Perfect, but your face? Hah! No!, so, what the hell happened and why didn't you call me?" Yeap, he saw this one coming, the questions and how he knew him, because he had fought alongside him, and James couldn't lie to him, but hey, he did try and failed, miserable, and he did have a backup story but it was shit and he would know, and they were standing outside school grounds and people keep watching their way while they walk to school, so he grabbed his cap because he had lost his glasses.
"I...you know...it was...and then..." And ok, he was a better lier than this, he had to lie his ass off some finals, he was a charmer, he could charm the pants off of anyone, except maybe one person in the world and of course, it was the same person making the questions.
"Hi, guys!"
And James couldn't lie, "Pete hit me"
"What?!"
"Funny, I said the same thing!"
\----
"You punch me!"
"Fuck! It hurts! Ice! I need Ice! Shit!"
"You punch me!
"Fucking hell it hurts!"
"You bastard!"
\-----
"Yeah, I hit him"
"Pete? My Peter? My little munchkin? No! Never!"
"Hey! Why is it so hard to believe?"
"I kiss Mary, the girl you fancy, and you didn't hit me"
"No, but he did put itch powder in all your boxers"
"Yeah, I had to buy new boxers, thanks Pete"
"Next time you will think twice before kissing the girl I like"
"Not likely, come on! it's me, everyone wants me"
And that's was their cue, they kept walking to the school's door without Sirius who was smiling to anyone who looks at him and he was preening like a peacock, a narcissist, that was a fast runner. "Wait, wait, but why did you hit Jamie?"
"He is a prick"
"Hey!"
\-----
"You did ask me to act as Sirius"
"So you punch me?"
"Yeap and you are welcome"
"Welcome? I am bruising, my beautiful, perfect, handsome face is bruising and you say: you are welcome? Are you mental?"
"Mate, come on, I should have kicked you, spit on you, disown you, break your bones and sell your organs and then dispose of your remains, I went soft on you, so you are welcome"
And yes, he was right, Sirius would have killed him, what the hell was he thinking?
"So Regulus?"
Oh, right, he wasn't thinking.
\----
"And?"
"And what?"
"Why did you fight?"
"He said that they were on a break!"
"Is that the bell?"
"No, it's not! Come back! James Ignotus Josefina Raymundo de los dolores Potter come back right now or so help me Satan!"
"What? I can't hear you! I am so far away" He was ten steps away, the bell hadn't rung and there weren't a lot of people around of them, "You love me? Aw, honey! I love you too!"
"No! James! Come back!"
\----
"Your hair! What happened?" |
b92126487fcd460a8f9b26132a5440c3 | ['cd554737225d487f86fcd2cd189a7acb'] | “The Talk” being that while other Doms were fine so long as they were of age, Subs were off limits without his or her Head’s permission beforehand, lest John wanted to be charged with sub-rape. Seeing how Traditionalist views on sex and marriage were still going strong in the twenty-first century, permission was rarely given to anyone that wasn’t already engaged. Sometimes not even then.
Considering that Sub/Sub sex was considered something of a taboo by most Traditionalists, a group which made up over seventy-percent of the population, there were many Subs that came to the honeymoon as nothing more than curious. Well, unless they were able to sneak around behind their family’s back. Or, really, really determined. The amount of paperwork required to circumvent the Head of Family’s approval, for every single sex partner, was said to take months to get through. Longer if you were “lucky” enough to get one of the many Tradtionalists that were bound to populate the Office of Submissive Affairs.
All of it was said to be for the benefit of the Sub, of course.
John approved of the general principle of the system, if not the way it was set-up. Too many Subs throughout history had been raped while zoned by piece of shit Doms. Too many people had claimed the Sub had agreed to it – as if a Sub in sub-zone was even aware they were _allowed_ to say no. Add marriage into the mix and you had the potential for a life-long disaster for some poor bastard.
Making certain people weren’t in the zone before allowing something potentially terrible to happen to them was ok in John’s book. It’s just the fact that this responsibility had fallen to other non-Subs is what irked him more than a little.
Non-Subs like Mycroft Holmes, who was looking at John as if he’d just asked him if he’d like to put on some jeans and head down to the local pub.
“No.”
“Excuse me? Could you repeat that?” John said, not quite believing his ears.
Mycroft’s lips thinned, causing John to feel like a particularly annoying yapping dog.
“I said ‘no.’ You do not have my permission.”
The words were cold. Final. John was no longer sitting across from the man he’d known for years - the doting, albeit terrifying, older brother who would allow entire governments to collapse before allowing anything to happen to Sherlock. Now he was sitting across from Mycroft Holmes, the Ice Man, the British Government, who for whatever reason didn’t approve of John. At all, if his expression was anything to go by.
John wondered if it was too late to apologize for punching him.
“But…Why?” John asked, his voice rising on the last word. He _loved_ Sherlock. Mycroft could see that. The man bloody well saw everything else.
“It is my understanding that as Head of Family I’m not required to give you a reason.” John spluttered and Mycroft continued before he could _really_ start protesting. “However, if you truly desire to know, it is because it is my duty to find Sherlock a husband that can properly take care of him. As it stands, you can barely pay your share of the rent.”
“Because I’m with Sherlock!” John shouted. He knew a BS excuse when he heard it. “I don’t have time to hold down a regular job, because I’m too busy keeping _your_ brother happy and out of trouble and you bloody well know it!”
John just barely reeled himself back in time before he attempted to zone Mycroft. He wasn’t certain who’d win that particular battle but the possibility of blood ending up on the walls either way was too high for comfort. Things never turned out well when two people with strikingly similar Control Levels decided to battle wills.
Mycroft’s eyebrows rose in response to his outburst. John heard the door opening behind him and turned to find Anthea glaring at him. Taking the hint that he was about to get shot, John continued in a quieter tone, “So … what? You’re denying me because I don’t pay both of our rents, is that it? Buy his clothing? Give cash to his homeless network?”
Mycroft waved Anthea away. She left with one last scowl in John’s direction.
“Don’t be absurd. I am more than happy to take care of Sherlock’s current financial needs,” Mycroft said, sounding mildly insulted. Yes, definitely the doting big brother, John thought with a snort. “However, there will come a time when I am no longer around to perform this duty. I would like to believe that my brother is in capable hands when that day comes.”
There was silence after that, and John felt a sense of absolute calmness come over him. It was the same feeling he got when faced with crazed bombers and Sherlock’s temper tantrums. Right, if that’s the way Mycroft wanted to play it, then that’s how Mycroft would lose.
Standing up, John held out a hand towards the other Dom. Mycroft blinked at it, before reaching over his desk to shake.
John nodded. “Thank you for seeing me today.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Mycroft returned. There was an air of curiosity about him, as if John was a pet that had just done an unexpected trick.
John started walking towards the door. He was half way to it when he turned around and said, “I will be back.”
After a pause, Mycroft inclined his head. “I look forward to it.”
Mycroft’s gaze held a challenge. John returned it with a look of his own. He _would_ get Mycroft’s permission, and he _would_ marry Sherlock and spend the rest of his life showing the man just how much he loved him. John knew this was going to happen. He wouldn’t be able to live with anything less.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'd love to hear what you think! Concrit is welcome. :)
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:** | 6bdf2b9bfbbe4c51b6e22a156006c1cb | ['cd554737225d487f86fcd2cd189a7acb'] |
It is Better to Beg Forgiveness
**Author's Note:**
> So, I wrote this. Yes, I did. Yeeeep.
>
> Anyway, it's unbeta'd so if anyone would like to volunteer, that'd be awesome! Or feel free to point out any mistakes you might see in the comments.
"It is a matter of national security."
"Isn't it always?" Sherlock responded.
He gave his brother a look that would have signified to anyone else how utterly _bored_ he was, thereby deeming the current topic of conversation closed. Unfortunately, Mycroft had the tendency of stubbornly ignoring him until he was forced from the premises by violent screeching from his violin.
Sherlock pulled out his instrument and began plucking at the strings threateningly.
Mycroft frowned and rubbed at his temple. "Must you always be so childish? People's lives are at stake."
"Aren't they always?"
Sherlock mentally added "headache-inducing" to the list of potential side effects of the drug. It was also entirely possible that dealing with him had produced the pain. Lestrade had once claimed he had to be a shareholder in some pharmaceutical company for all that Sherlock made people want to self-medicate. That had been one of his more productive days, in Sherlock’s opinion.
He watched his brother take another sip of tea. Mycroft rubbed at his temple again.
"While I am aware that _you_ do not care about the general populace, I would have thought the good opinion of John-"
Sherlock glanced at Mycroft at the abrupt stop, realizing he'd been caught gaging the amount of liquid still left in his brother's cup. It'd only been a quick glance, not even long enough for most people to have noticed.
Mycroft pursed his lips and very deliberately set his tea on the nearby table.
“What did you put in it?” Mycroft asked.
The cold steel in his voice was _almost_ enough to make Sherlock regret his decision to use his brother in this experiment in lieu of John while his blogger was away at that conference about whatever doctors had conferences about. Sherlock had deleted the information within minutes of receiving it, but now wondered if it might not have been prudent to have stored it in the second cupboard of the downstairs study in his Mind Palace instead. John had been annoyed that he’d not taken an interest in his work and would now be less likely to take his side against Mycroft’s impending rage. Sherlock silently scolded himself for only having thought of testing the experimental mixture on his brother after Mycroft had conveniently invited himself into Sherlock’s flat, as was his MO, and not when Sherlock had had the opportunity to better plan the outcome to his satisfaction.
“Oh, nothing much. Just a little something I cooked up in the kitchen. An experimental drug created by a Mr. Dolberly, currently on trial for murder. Fairly certain it won’t cause irreparable damage,” Sherlock answered while continuing to pluck at his violin, unconcerned.
“Fairly certain” was roughly the equivalent of “98.8% positive,” seeing as this was the fifth trial he’d personally conducted, albeit the first with a human, and none of his previous test subjects had suffered an unfortunate fate. If he were to add his own experiments to the notes kept by Mr. Dolberly, whom Sherlock believed to not be guilty of murder, Sherlock saw no need for alarm.
_“Sherlock!”_
Sherlock winced at the promised retribution in Mycroft’s tone, but otherwise didn’t worry overly much. Mycroft wouldn’t harm him. Make his life absolutely miserable for several months on end, yes, but never _harm_ him. They were equally sentimental in that way.
Mycroft’s motions were jerky and not at all full of his usual forced grace as he furiously attempted to remove his mobile from his pocket. Motor control was always the first to go with this formula.
Sherlock continued to watch as Mycroft quickly lost consciousness, his hand drifting down to rest against his stomach. He carefully catalogued every motion before and after his brother’s body went into hibernation, and it was only after he’d counted the seconds between the steady rise and fall of Mycroft’s chest and added the information to the chart in his Mind Palace that Sherlock finally put his violin to the side and rose from the chair.
He placed two fingers on Mycroft’s neck and observed his heart rate for several minutes: fast due to the previous adrenaline, but creeping down to resting rate at an acceptable speed. Satisfied that he’d not managed to accidentally murder the British Government, Sherlock left his brother to retrieve his supply bag from his room.
Sherlock removed a thermometer from the bag upon returning and swiftly placed it into Mycroft’s ear. His temperature was slightly elevated but nothing to be overly concerned with; Sherlock would continue to make note of it just in case. Mummy would be upset if Mycroft was unable to fulfill his promise to take her and Father to the Lion King musical.
Putting the device away, Sherlock was amused to note that a line of drool had started to leak out of the parted corner of Mycroft’s mouth. Still, it would be best not to upset his brother any more than he already had if he didn’t want Mycroft to suddenly “discover” he’d hacked MI5’s database and have him detained in some unknown location. Again.
Reaching into his brother’s pocket, he pulled out the black handkerchief embroidered with a yellow umbrella in the corner and wiped the spittle off. His hand stilled as it brushed against lips unintentionally.
Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from staring at spot that had made contact with his brother’s mouth. And then he couldn’t stop himself from staring at said mouth. He swallowed and all but shoved the handkerchief back into its proper place. He tilted Mycroft’s head slightly so that his lips sealed. He hopefully wouldn’t have to deal with a repeat of the incident. |
ca04c1d0e9c74117a92611ca01b02c9c | ['cd7cc61f516843c4822e2e68fd3e8275'] | “Oh! Sure!” Neville was flattered and intrigued.
“Great - do you want to set it down first?” Cedric asked, gesturing to the potted vine.
“Yeah, okay,” Neville reluctantly agreed, a bit sad to part with it, but consoling himself with the reminder that he would see it again.
Cedric led the way down a hallway to the left of the sitting room and into the first of two adjoining bedrooms. On Neville’s previous visit, one of them had been a guest bedroom. Now they were evidently both in use, as the room in which they were currently standing contained only two beds. The beds were approximately the same distance apart as the beds in the boys’ dormitory at Hogwarts had been, and were outfitted with green comforters. In between the beds was a wooden dresser upon which Harry’s dragonet, Hide, lay curled up on something small and circular. Neville smiled as he recalled the hours of increasingly drunken revelry that had transpired at the July party, during which they had collectively decided upon names for both Harry’s and Cedric’s dragonets. Cho had coined this term, declaring emphatically (with a couple shots of firewisky in her) that dragon models were a form of imitation life, and as such, deserved to have a name which reflected their more-than-object status. Harry had agreed, adding that dragonets was quicker and easier to say than dragon model anyway.
After much deliberation and many silly suggestions, they had settled on Hide for Harry’s and Seek for Cedric’s. They had decided early on that they wanted the Hungarian Horntail dragonet to have a name beginning with H and the Swedish Short-Snout dragonet to have one beginning with S. They also ideally wanted two names that complimented each other. When they finally hit on Hide and Seek, they felt it was perfect, due to Hide’s tendency to hide away in obscure places, along with the fact that dragons have hides. Seek was a testament to their owners all having been Seekers at Hogwarts. They had been delighted by the names and thought them terribly clever at the time of conceiving them. The next day, they seemed less clever but still delightful, and so the names had stuck.
Neville looked at the beds and wondered whose room they were in, his unasked question answered by Cedric as he said, “Harry and Draco share this room now, and Cho and I share the next one,” pointing to the doorway, through which Neville could hear mingling voices.
“You can set it down on the dresser there and let’s go to the garden - we won’t be too long, and then we can join the others.”
Neville nodded, placing the pot on the dresser gently so as not to disturb Hide, then followed Cedric back out of the bedroom, through the sitting room, into the kitchen, and finally out a door and into the back yard, which, despite Cedric’s words, was actually more of an expanse of grass than a garden. There were three silver Quidditch hoops, not quite as tall as those on the pitch at Hogwarts, but with the same circumference and diameters. Cho, Cedric and Harry had talked about how much they enjoyed throwing a Quaffle around, each of them taking turns playing Keeper and Chasers. They didn’t have any of the other balls, as it would be too much of a hassle trying to prevent them from veering off the property. There were all sorts of protective enchantments securing the boundaries, ensuring nothing could come in without any of the residents’ express permission, but there was nothing preventing anything already within the boundaries from leaving them.
Neville wondered if Draco had joined them in this activity, or if he’d consider it beneath him to play on such a rudimentary pitch.
“Are you still playing with the Quaffle here now that the training season’s begun?” Neville asked, hoping to get an answer to what he was actually curious about.
“Ha, yeah, not so much now. The four of us played some last month, and Harry and Draco carried on playing without Cho and me after we started getting too tired from practices.”
Neville nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of Draco playing Quidditch alone with Harry...both of them sweating in the heat...and found his brain short-circuiting. He cleared his throat, cheeks burning, and anxiously changed the subject.
“So, uh, you wanted my professional opinion about something?”
Cedric pointed to four patches on the lawn in which the dirt had been overturned.
“Last week we planted apple seeds, four different kinds, and I was wondering if you’d have any advice for how best to tend to them and ensure they grow healthily.”
Neville smiled in delight and replied, “Oh, how nice! A little orchard will be a wonderful addition to the place! Well, I’m no expert on apple trees in particular, but I do know that they take quite a while to grow; it can take a standard apple tree anywhere from six to ten years before you’ll get fruit without the aid of magic. Using magical fertilisers, you can get apples starting around the third year of growth. I’d say keep them well watered - but you want to make sure you’re not overwatering them - the soil should be kept relatively moist. What a great idea to plant apple trees…you said four different kinds? I assume you each chose your favourite variety?”
“Yeah, we did! I was honestly pretty surprised that none of us chose the same type of apple but I think it’s nice that we’ll each have our own tree. And I agree, it was a wonderful idea - one of Draco’s best, I think.”
“Wha-the trees were Draco’s idea?” Neville asked, astounded. | 36cc312f466c452db960be49af0be4b0 | ['cd7cc61f516843c4822e2e68fd3e8275'] | “Well! That sounds…nice. Alright then. It’s a deal.” He held out his hand to Draco who looked at it for a second then rose from the bed and shook it, looking squarely into Neville’s eyes. Neville looked directly back, feeling strangely as though it were a staring contest. For once, he found himself welcoming prolonged eye contact; he was captivated by Draco’s eyes, and wanted every excuse to look at them. They held that position for a long moment, then jumped and dropped their hands when Ginny’s voice called to them from down the hallway.
“Neville! Draco! We’re just about to do something - I don’t know what, but our hosts say that everyone’s to participate!” She walked through the doorway and, seeing them, beckoned with her arm.
“Ah, there you are! Come on, then.”
Draco nodded and exited swiftly without looking at either of them. Neville grinned at Ginny’s inquisitively quirked eyebrow.
“Are you going to tell me what the two of you were discussing, or is none of my business? I quite hope it’s the former because I’m extremely curious.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Neville promised her. He was already looking forward to confiding in her, though he intended to keep bits of it to himself. He hoped he would have more coherent feelings about the situation before speaking with her, but there was a good chance he’d work them out in the process of saying them aloud. He’d often found that to be the case. Neville felt that this might be a bit more of a sensitive matter though. Oh, well. He’d sort it when the time came. For now he was going to savour the novel sensation of actually enjoying himself at a party.
*~*~*
“Is everybody here? All right. As you all know, we’ve held this party in order to honour the occasion of Harry’s first Chocolate Frog card,” Cho began but was interrupted by Harry saying, “First?”
“Well, yes, I’m sure they’ll make new ones with more updated information after you’ve started teaching at Hogwarts - in an official capacity, that is; you’ve already taught at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, smiling broadly.
“We should all get each one that comes out - the whole set will probably be worth loads when we’re old!” Seamus said excitedly.
“Are you planning on writing to the manufacturers and requesting a direct delivery, or should I expect to see far more Chocolate Frogs in the near future?” an amused Dean asked his boyfriend.
“Oh. Right. Well, there could be a special Quidditch edition of Harry’s card that’s sold with the other Quidditch cards! It could say stuff like, _Played as Seeker on a Hogwarts’ Quidditch team at age eleven, the first to do so in a century; Competed against legendary Seeker Victor Krum in the 1994 Triwizard Tournament held at Hogwarts; Caught the Snitch in his mouth in the first match he played; Captained the 1996 Gryffindor Quidditch team; Attended the 422nd annual Quidditch World Cup; First racing broom: Nimbus Two Thousand; Second racing broom: Firebolt_ \- Anything I forgot, Harry?”
“You’re adorable,” laughed Dean, pulling Seamus into a brief but sound kiss. “And a genius. I think you’re absolutely right, they’ll definitely try to make as many versions of this card that they can, because there’s a huge market for it. And we’ll get every single one.”
Ginny cleared her throat loudly.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like to hear what Cho has to say.”
Cho smiled at her and continued.
“Well, we thought it would be fun if we all made cards - modeled after Chocolate Frog cards - for each other. I have a camera that we can use to take pictures for the cards and we can all choose someone else to make a card for. It can be a private present for them if you want to write something that you’d rather not share with the group, but it would also be nice to see the finished products afterwards. To start off it would probably work best if we paired up - that way everyone is guaranteed to have a card made for them - then if anyone wants to make more, they can.”
“And the rule for Harry,” she added, smiling mischievously at him, "Is that he has to make one for all of us.” He grinned back at her as everyone broke into excited chatter in reaction to the announcement.
“Are there any questions?” Cho asked the group.
“Can we choose our partners for the initial pairing up?” Seamus asked.
“Of course!” laughed Cho. “And you can go anywhere on the property to make your cards, if you want privacy to write and take the photos,” she added.
“Materials are all set up on this table; if there are no more questions, let’s get started!”
As everyone crowded around the table, Neville caught sight of Draco looking at him and felt a slight swooping in his stomach. He had realised as Cho was talking that Draco was the only other person there who wasn’t a part of an implicit pair for this activity, and after the conversation they had just shared, the prospect of making each other cards felt intimidatingly intimate. He couldn’t very well refuse to participate, so he arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral smile as Draco approached him.
“Shall we?” Draco asked, extending his arm towards the table. |
4d85de629a94419aa6bbf5b3c6ea3bf1 | ['cdb19d26296d4a1aab008c630ef29f57'] | “That excited to kill me, huh?” Neil commented and made a face at whatever Lola seemed to be monologuing on the other side of the line. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Lola. But guess what? I don’t have to listen to this. If you really want to do all that to me, you know what to do. Oh, and maybe bring your brother? After I’m done with you, I might have plans for him.”
Neil hung up in the middle of her sentence, and gave Andrew a tiny grimace. “She’s…”
“A sociopath?” Andrew offered, without inflection in his voice.
Neil just shrugged in response and they turned to watch the empty parking lot Neil and Andrew had deemed good enough.
“You don’t have anyone else to kidnap after DiMaccio, do you?” Andrew asked.
“Well… I could make a list of every single person who inconvenienced me in my life, but I think that’s taking things a bit too far.”
“Hmmmm,” Andrew looked up, contemplating the dark starless night. “It’s gonna be hard to go back to hunting vampires again.”
“_Oh._” Neil’s voice was weird enough that Andrew slowly turned his head to look at him. “Are you worried that I won’t help you anymore?” Andrew didn’t answer that and Neil frowned hard. “Andrew. I won’t just leave you like that, okay? Besides, there are always rapists and politicians and billionaires to be killed.”
Andrew looked at the tiny smile that Neil was giving him and felt his heart lurch. It was weird, being blatantly _chosen_ like this. Unusual in a way that felt _good_, even though Andrew would never admit it.
“That seems like a healthy motto to have for your own life.”
“What are you talking about? It’s just being practical.”
Neil grinned when Andrew snorted at him, more than obviously pleased with himself.
It took forty minutes for a car to appear at all, and Lola didn’t even bother to turn off the ignition as she got out of the driver’s side and approached the lonesome hooded figure in the middle of the parking lot with a spring in her step.
“Hey, Junior, long time no see!” Lola greeted cheerfully. Romero got out of the car at a much more reasonable pace and joined his sister.
Renee raised her head and Lola seemed to realize that it wasn’t who she’d been expected.
She tried to draw her gun, but it was too late. Andrew and Neil had already raised their tranquilizers to shoot both of them over Renee’s shoulder.
* * *
This time, no one even suggested that they should record anything for Andrew’s vlogs. Neil infected both Lola and Malcolm, they put them in different rooms with a cup of blood, and 48 hours later they had two new and fed vampires strapped to wheelchairs.
Neil’s aunt had told him to drop Malcolm at the Springfield Coldtown and Lola at the Fresno one. It took a long time to get both of them to their respective Coldtowns and then go back to Palmetto, but after a week they were able to get Matt Boyd and Kevin Day.
Andrew couldn’t care less about talking to them civically. It was a miracle that he still replied to what people said to him at all. All Andrew wanted was to get back to their headquarters and just _sleep_.
Boyd seemed to have taken a shine to Neil though, asking him everything he wanted to know about being a vampire—if his hair was going to become silky like some of the older vampires, if he liked the red eyes or if he missed his original eye color, if he missed eating solid food, “Do you have to pee? Like, you must pee _a lot_ if your diet is just _liquids_!”—and just generally being a nuisance.
Kevin on the other hand was quiet the whole way, obviously busier with his constant staring Neil down for some unfathomable reason. Neil was clearly uncomfortable, but didn’t bother to say a single word to stop Kevin’s watchful eyes.
Andrew could sense some _story _there, but he was too tired to badger Neil into saying anything.
So yeah, Andrew didn’t _record_ anything to his vlogs, but he did a quick update on his blog about finding two vampires together and still being alive after their encounter, making sure to say that he’d come back later with more details. Comments came almost immediately but Andrew just ignored it and turned to the side to pretend to sleep.
Neil drove them in a pace that felt like molasses going down on a waterslide, but they finally arrived at their home just a little after midnight. Boyd was still a chatterbox, but Andrew knew that he should maybe try to get used to it. Nicky was after all much more talkative than Boyd.
“Hey, Andrew, you want to eat anyt—” Andrew gave one single look to Neil, who shut up as he watched Andrew’s face and nodded without completing what he was going to say. “I’m gonna leave something for you in the kitchen, okay?”
Andrew went to Neil’s bedroom and rummaged through the drawers where his own stuff stayed in Neil’s dresser, changing into comfortable pajamas. He wrote the blog post he had written in his brain during their trip back, posted it and then went to the bathroom downstairs to eat whatever Neil had left him and get his toothbrush.
The house was more silent than Andrew thought it would be. He’d thought Boyd would still be pestering Neil with many questions. He couldn’t help but tense a little at the quiet, ready to fight if there was anything wrong. | 3be76ad9dcb64da4ab8d6ff4ee194ff3 | ['cdb19d26296d4a1aab008c630ef29f57'] | Jean was still in his paid vacations, so he didn't mind waking up this early to see them out. He had the entire day to go back to bed, after all. However, it was impossible to predict when he was going to be able to see these people in the future.
The last few minutes of them all physically together was spent with them trying to plan what to do when they inevitably met again. Places they'd wanted to go visit, eat, how much of their time they would spend writing, _where_ they'd go write… the had endless things to think about for their next get together, but they also had a lot of time until their schedules all lined up. Being an adult was too hard.
Mikasa gave Jean a goodbye hug, and Jean from months ago would've died if he knew this was going to happen to his future self. Jean made a face at his thought process and hugged her back, trying not to make it weird. Armin went next, hugging Jean much more firmly than Mikasa.
“I promise I will keep him a secret, okay?” Armin whispered, not even needing to tell Jean who he was talking about. “You can also talk to me if you need to vent, or anything.”
“Thanks,” Jean said, trying to keep away from his voice how touched he actually was. “I… I will keep that in mind.”
Armin smiled at Jean while he let him go, and went to flick Eren in his forehead to wake him up. Marco was chaotically flying right beside the front door, waving at Armin as he passed through it. Armin grinned at him, but had his hands too busy to wave back. Jean watched from his door until they got into the elevator and were gone.
They were gone, and Jean felt his heartstrings tugging him into too many directions. He didn't know how much time he lost standing near his front door, but definitely a lot. He was only brought back to the present by his phone ringing softly, and Marco trying to get his attention by flying in front of his face.
Jean picked up his phone automatically and said, “Hello?”
“I missed it, didn't I?” The voice on the other side said, and Jean instantaneously smiled. “You don't need to say it, I know that I fucking missed it.”
“One could expect that his mother would remember the most life-changing day of her life,” Jean said mockingly, like he always did. “Or at least program a reminder on her phone calendar, so she wouldn't forget, you know, Eleonore?”
“Shut up, I did put it in my calendar,” Jean's mom sounded annoyed and ashamed at the same time. “The problem is that I just wrote ‘Birthday’ so…”
“You didn't know who was the birthday person.” Jean was openly laughing now.
“As I already said, _shut up_.”
“Very mature.”
Jean sat on his couch to keep bickering back and forth with his mom, and his heart felt a little better. Marco was sitting on the opposite side of the sofa, looking at Jean and smiling. Jean's mother hated talking on the phone, so the call wasn't long, but she was, as always, a balm on a wound that Jean wasn't aware he was carrying.
When they hung up, Jean looked over at Marco, who was now trying to hover but still didn't have enough butterfly wing to do it perfectly.
“Now, mister,” Jean started, crossing his arms and giving Marco the sternest look he was able to muster. “You’re going to explain to me what the fuck are you running from.”
Marco made a face, but did sit down while Jean went to the kitchen to retrieve his iPad. When he got back, Marco was sitting on the couch like a dejected child, and Jean wanted to laugh.
“You don't need to look so miserable,” Jean told him, kind of feeling bad for wanting to laugh. “I know it's probably nothing bad, or you'd have told me before.”
Marco grimaced exaggeratedly, but then he just made grabby hands for the iPad, with a face that clearly said, “Let's get this done with”. Jean snorted at him, but obliged.
While Marco took his time writing what looked like a Bible, Jean went through the group chat, searching for Eren’s photo and smiling slightly when he finally found it, saving it straight away to his phone. He'd have to remember to send it to Marco after this conversation.
Right on time, his phone notified him and he didn't even have time to read the first words of the pop-up notification since his thumb automatically clicked on it as it appeared.
marcothegreekgod: _Long story short, they won't search for me right now but they might if I take too long to go back. I got sent to the human world to accomplish a mission when I got injured. As I said, I'm not being hunted right now, but I need to go back to the mounds with the seeds I was sent to find in the human world. I said I would be able to find it in one month at best, so… cutting things a little close, especially taking into consideration how long I'll take flying back. But nothing dangerous_ should _happen to you because of it. Only if they come around and think that you are keeping me hostage. But I would intervene, of course._
Jean hummed as he read, nodding along. “Did you already found the seeds?”
Marco went back to typing.
marcothegreekgod: _Yes, I did. I was actually on my trip back when I got hurt, and the raven that brought you to help me promised to guard the seeds until I was healthy._ |
9ecb3b78658647fe90702a51d1466e7d | ['cdb5818030ad4bf687852914c639746f'] |
Feelings to be Had
Opening his groggy eyes, Ryou took in a breath and woke up. The room was cold but the sheets were warm...almost too warm.
It took him a minute to remember his pajamas were on the floor, crumpled up in a little pile. He was practically naked! He could feel that the fly of his pants was down. He could also feel Mariku's arms around his waist.
He wasn't sure if he should have moved. Waking Mariku would ensure a conversation and, by the looks of things, Ryou wasn't ready for it.
If my clothes are on the floor, then what about Mariku's?
Ryou could feel Mariku's bare chest and stomach against his back. Sweat was the only thing in between them.
He wriggled free from his embrace and flung himself off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud! Ryou grabbed his pajamas and fumbled to pull up his zipper, and he raced to the bathroom to be alone for a moment.
Mariku lifted his tired head, feeling the bed beside him empty. He frowned, then also remembered the very night before. He sat up and yawned, wondering where Ryou had stolen off to.
In the bathroom, Ryou kept the door locked while he observed himself. Hickeys spotted his neck and chest. Tiny flickers of the events began sweeping into his memory
his mouth moved along my tender chest and kissed and sucked and licked and kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed
and fading back out again. Ryou felt the urge to run soap and water on a rag and scrub them off. He wanted to hide them, he did not want them there. Their pinkish purplish little bites and swells were not appreciated.
His pajama shirt buttoned up and hid them to Ryou's gratitude. His hair would remain down then, to hide the one by his neck and ears
_I can hear Mariku's mouth by my ear the sound was intense echoing delicious I can hear his lips I can hear his breath and hear his moans tingles and sparks and his tongue feels so good against my ear please Mariku just a little bit more_
and even the little bites.
Bites? Ryou couldn't quite tell. The little marks reminded him of bug bites, his skin only irritated in sun and by bugs.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth, ignoring his bubbling thoughts and feelings. He didn't like hickeys. They looked gross and their color was not flattering in any way. And saliva was icky.
Ryou didn't want to leave the bathroom because he'd see Mariku. Poor thing didn't do anything wrong, he still loved him from the bottom of his heart. But still he couldn't get the thoughts
_touched touched all over I've never been touched there or there why does it feel good it's weird but it's wonderful don't ever let this end touching me touching me please Mariku touch me again_
out of his head. He didn't like them. They weren't who he was, he'd never say that. Mariku never touched him either. Well, he did, but never so much. Never in that way. His flirtations were empty promises, nothing more. He wouldn't.
Ryou stood by his teapot and brewed a cup. Focus on the tea, focus on the tea, focus on the tea, don't think about the _way he touches me and kisses me it feels so good why haven't I ever done this before this is wonderful I'm melting I'm on fire and I'm_ going to ignore it. Ignore the thoughts, ignore the feelings. Whatever happened is over, be a good person, be the innocent little bunny you were before and don't think about those things.
Soon Mariku approached from behind. A few locks of Ryou's hair were tangling in his fingers. He leaned in and held him from behind, just like always.
Ryou leaned into his warmth and forced himself to ignore his thoughts. Perhaps he could pretend nothing happened, pretend that they never had any sort of fling. They could go back to being pure and fluffy.
"I love you," Mariku kissed his ear, sending Ryou soaring into his thoughts again.
He brushed his hair back some and kissed his neck, Ryou figuring out whether to fight him off or turn into putty.
Ryou hadn't decided before Mariku found a hickey. He poked it with his finger, then asked, "It doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No," Ryou said, all too quietly. "Did you have to kiss me so high up?"
Mariku laughed and Ryou didn't know if he wanted to join him.
"I didn't realize that would upset you."
Ryou stayed quiet. How could he have realized? Mariku had sucked at his neck and Ryou moaned like he was eating the greatest soup in the world.
"I didn't think I would be receiving a reminder, is all."
"Did you not want a reminder?"
Ryou glanced down at his shoes.
_Please another kiss along my skin I want your mouth all over me I want you to taste me I want you to like the way I taste kiss me Mariku kiss me everywhere_
"I feel dirty." He admitted, quietly.
Mariku knit his brows. "...what?"
He frowned again. "I don't know. I mean, I enjoyed what we did together. Not really sure what it was."
"That wasn't sex, if—if that's what you mean," he was already holding Ryou to comfort him. "I didn't use— we didn't...we didn't go all the way."
"I'm grateful for that bit," Ryou smiled, only half of it was genuine. "Still, I've never woken up with no clothes...and I've certainly never had any hickeys before."
Mariku kissed Ryou's forehead.
"I was hoping an occasion like that would be...more romantic? More passionate? I'm not sure."
"You seemed pretty passionate to me."
Ryou's face grew scarlet. | f094b386500b485ebaaad2b49d6b8925 | ['cdb5818030ad4bf687852914c639746f'] | Marik sneered. "It's human nature to assume, so don't get so tightly wound about it." He patted Bakura's grumpy little head.
This was a topic Bakura would have liked to continue on to beat his smug yet pretty face, but they'd finally gotten to the apartment complex.
"This is it." He stated, letting Marik drive up to the front for him to get off.
Bakura was somewhat upset that it was over so quickly. A neat little conversation was being worked up; it's like leaving before the kettle was off the stove—
Wow. I am really British, aren't I?
"Thanks for the ride." He said after a few seconds.
"You're welcome. Now shoo." Marik flicked his hand at the air towards the door. He groaned and sarcastically said, "That's ancient Egyptian for 'let go'."
"Oh. Right." And he unlatched himself, feeling a little colder afterwards. Then he got off and looked at him before he left. "I..." he wish he could pinpoint what he wanted to get across but all he spewed was, "...I wouldn't mind running into you again."
Marik laughed and revved the engine for the third time. "If you plan on throwing yourself in front of my motorcycle again, let's hope that I don't run in to you." With that final statement, smiling to himself because he felt so clever, he sped off with another screech! into the night.
***
Bakura's trip up the elevator involved a lot of self hatred. He hated many things: hugs with strangers that last longer than seven seconds, artichoke hearts, wearing jeans in bed, wearing socks in bed, ducks (man, does he hate ducks), people pronouncing "ask" like "axe", hotel showers, etc. He just recently added to the list; motorcycle rides that are fast as hell.
Most of his hatred didn't usually go towards himself, but he couldn't help it. He kinda wished he'd gotten Marik's number or something. Maybe he should've asked for an apology drink instead. He didn't know.
It was so short of a ride but his attitude had managed to shift so quickly, it hadn't been evident to anyone but himself.
He'd already grown accustomed to Marik's back. It was warm and muscly— it was a back. There was nothing interesting about it, so the desire to cling to it again was unusual. Maybe because it felt safer to hang onto it?
Bakura's face twisted into its famous scowl. "I wasn't bloody cuddling you..."
But his cheeks were flushed. So that was a thing.
At least in the elevator, he was alone to think about this. Marik was incredibly hot, he'll admit, but it was what he wanted to do with Marik that made him feel like actual human scum. It pleased him to think of it, but it wasn't supported by an ounce of his morality. He couldn't possibly say the truth about his feelings, because he shouldn't be feeling like this.
The elevator doors opened and Bakura stepped out and walked toward a door while taking off his coat.
Before entering, he took a deep breath and shook everything off. He had a plan: convince himself that Marik was just a stranger. A plain faced, okay looking stranger. He did not have a gorgeous face and a sexy body. He did not feel good in Bakura's arms. Bakura was not attracted to him in any way, shape, or form.
Then he would go in and everything would be fine.
So he unlocked the door and went inside, kicking off his shoes and sighing loudly. He closed the door again, and then he heard a gasp from somewhere else in the apartment.
He braced himself.
There was some scuffling noises from the bedroom as some cardboard boxes were hurriedly pushed aside as the mess would be left unattended. A thud here and there indicated a fit of some sort as someone tried their best to reach the door without a fuss.
The door was opened quickly and Ryou scurried out with bags under his eyes and his bun all messy, although he was looking somewhat pleased.
"You're home!" He said walking toward him with open arms. He wrapped them around him in a ten second hug— Ryou had been the one to measure how long a hug would last before Bakura would get all fussy, and since he was closer to Bakura than most, he got an extra three.
Bakura sighed and leaned in, saying into his hair, "Hey."
After the hug finished, Ryou pulled away and frowned. "You're all wet."
"Oh." He looked back down at his jacket, darker in some spots and cold all around. His hair had dried a little, but it was still damp. "It was raining today."
But he knew Ryou was smarter than that; this was more recent. The rain stopped sometime in the evening, and by this point it was past everyone's bedtime.
Ryou simply laughed. "I'd forgotten. I feared you might've floated away."
It was a funny thought, but all Bakura managed to do was smile a little bit. "You worry over the most stupid things."
Ryou shrugged because it was true.
He deserved some truth, right? There was no reason for Bakura to be scared to say something. Nothing happened. He should be fine.
"I was just splashed by some bloke in his motorcycle, is all."
"You didn't cuss him out, did you?"
"I wanted to, believe me. But I didn't. He even offered me a ride home afterwards."
Ryou let out a sigh of relief. "That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?"
Bakura groaned. "Yes, I did."
"Good."
Now he was thinking about Marik again. The way his body felt against his own, the warmth of his hold, the way his hand fit over his own—
A pair of soft hands began to feel his face. "Are you alright?" Ryou asked him with concern. "You feel hot." |
5729415e3c4b49779662a5264bb03dba | ['cdbbd0e7b703423eb6efe1308f203861'] | Mysterious Clicking Noise
Dean was trying. He was honest-to-God trying to focus but there was an annoyed clicking noise coming from the cute guy next to him and he couldn’t ignore it. He’d glanced over--more than once--trying to see what exactly it was that the guy was doing.
He wasn’t clicking his pen or tapping his pencil, it didn’t sound like that’s what it could have been anyways, but he couldn’t get over the sound.
He couldn’t place the culprit of the noise, it didn’t sound like anything he’d recognize from a school setting. He heard the clicking and flinched, and every time he thought it had stopped, it’d start again and he’d flinch again.
They were supposed to be taking a test and normally, Dean was great at Calculus. Not today. No, today, the black-haired boy next to him was tormenting him, somehow. Dean was just about ready to fake a sickness to get out of the room when he watched the guy trying to discreetly move his hand down toward his backpack.
Dean watched from the corner of his eye as the other guy, who Dean ashamedly didn't know the name of, pulled out a grape. Of all the things, Dean would have assumed he’d be trying to cheat and that he was pulling out a sheet of formulas or something of the sort. No, it was just a single green grape.
The other boy, instead of putting the grape up to his mouth, shoved his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants and left it in there, still holding the grape. And there was that clicking noise again.
Dean tapped his pencil twice before giving in and turning to the other guy directly. Luckily, they were in the back of the room so no one would notice a little confrontation. He didn't want to yell at the guy, he was cute and innocent looking and Dean’d been paying extra attention to him during class every day, but he might not be able to hold back.
Just as Dean was about to say something like “whatever the hell it is you’re doing, you’d better fucking stop it”, he saw a tiny nose peek out of the guy’s pocket. The guy lightly tapped it and shooed whatever creature is in his pocket back into hiding.
Dean continued to stare, not yet being noticed by his neighbor. Again, the guy carefully moved his hand down to his bag where he pulls out another grape. This time, however, the animal climbed further out of his pocket.
Dean’s eyes widened and he quickly turned his head, trying to see if anyone else noticed the hampster. “Dude,” Dean said as he watched the guy frantically push the hamster back. “Dude,” he repeated, this time getting the attention of the other guy. “Is that a hamster in your pocket?” he asked in awe.
The guy looked to him, tilted his head, and blinked. “His name is Barry,” is the extent of a response Dean got.
And just like that, the guy ignored him for the rest of the period. Dean finally figured out the clicking was coming from the hamster, Barry, chewing on his grape.
After class, since it’s the last class of the day, Dean rushed out of the room to find hamster-dude. When he spotted him, the boy was standing in front of his locker, holding the hamster in full view.
“Dude--”
“Yes?”
“Do you… do you take your hamster to school every day?”
The guy looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “No, that would be strange.” he answered.
Dean didn't know what to say. “So… why’d you bring it today?”
“I told you, his name is Barry.”
“Sorry, why’d you bring Barry to school today?”
“I didn't want to get in trouble.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I broke a window at home, because I threw a book at it when I was frustrated, and my brother said he’d take the blame for me if I was able to bring my little sister’s hamster to school and keep it with me all day.”
“Dude,” Dean said, again at a loss for words. “That’s awesome. Who’s your brother?”
“Gabriel Novak.”
“No shit. You’re Gabe’s brother?”
“Yes?”
“Wait--that makes you Castiel. You’re a freshman, what are you doing taking a calculus class?”
“I’ve been taking advanced math classes for a while, now.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” Dean felt his stomach flutter.
“Thank you. I should probably go now, I don’t want to miss the bus--”
“Hey, do you want a ride home? I’d be happy to drive you.”
“I--yes, that would be nice.”
Two months later, while the two are studying their calculus homework in Cas’s room, Dean is thrilled that his boyfriend brought that annoying hamster to class. | f1bcd24c58fa42829f42beb5a7e17718 | ['cdbbd0e7b703423eb6efe1308f203861'] | Derek is quiet for a while, listening to Stiles breathe as he tries to find the words he wants to say. “I think you should go,” he says in the end. The same words he had said all those years ago when Stiles was conflicted about staying with Derek or moving to D.C.
“Derek, just--”
“Go, Stiles. Someone at the desk will get you checked out. Remember to wash your wound with soap and water twice a day and don’t put too much pressure on your knee. The stitches may be out but the internal tissue damage hasn’t healed yet.” Derek still doesn’t turn around, even when he hears Stiles curse as he hops off the table, probably hurting his knee.
Xxx
“He didn’t even try to explain?” Scott asks. Stiles shakes his head. “Wow. And he told you to leave? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I can’t believe him. I mean, we’ve always known Derek was emotionally constipated, but who knew he would go as far as to not tell his serious girlfriend that about you?”
“I’m just as confused as you are, man,” says Stiles.
Scott is pacing his living room and Stiles is dandling Charlie on his good knee. It’s kind of hard to hold her with just one arm, but Stiles isn’t going to put her down just because of a minor injury.
“God, and she’s such a bitch, Jennifer is. Kira says she acts innocent and timid when really the only reason she hasn’t attacked someone that’s gotten on her nerves yet is because of Derek. He’s too good for her.”
“Scott--”
“I mean, everyone knows he’s just putting up with her because he wants a family and a picket fence. Well, maybe everyone except for him, but--”
“Scott!”
“Yeah?”
“Derek is a grown man. You shouldn’t be so invested in his love life.”
“Stiles, really? You’re really okay with seeing him with her? Let alone someone as awful as she is? And aren’t you in the least bit concerned about why he hasn’t mentioned you to her?”
Stiles sighs and motions for Scott to pick Charlie up off his lap. “Of course I don’t want him to be with someone if she doesn’t make him happy, but there’s no reason I have to believe that she doesn’t. Besides, Derek and I broke up a long time ago.”
“Yes but you two were in love. Let’s not forget what you told me on New Years, Stiles.”
“You promised not to mention it.”
“Well these are drastic measures,” Scott says. Stiles rolls his eyes.
“I was drunk and upset after seeing all of my friends kiss their significant others. I didn’t mean it.”
Scott, Kira, Isaac, Allison, and Stiles had flown to New York to see Lydia and Jackson for a small New Year’s Eve party they were hosting. A few of Lydia and Jackson’s friends were there and Stiles was more than a little emotional about his best friends being happy and in love and making the most out of their relationships while he didn’t even have time for one night stands anymore.
So, after everyone went to sleep, he and Scott sat at Lydia’s kitchen counter and talked until the sun rose. And Stiles might have cried, claiming to still be in love with Derek even after all these years. He told recounted every single thing he loved about Derek to an equally drunken but much less emotional Scott and as he fell asleep in the early hours of that morning, he hoped to himself that neither of them would remember the conversation when they woke up. But both of them did, and they swore never to speak of it again.
And yeah, in the back of his mind, Stiles knows that the chance of him still loving Derek is relatively high but it’s something he’s been pretty content with ignoring for a long time.
“Scott, I’m not here to ruin his relationship. That’s not why I came back.”
Scott sighs and sets his daughter down in her playpen before sitting next to Stiles on the couch. “I know buddy,” he says. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I have all of my friends back, I have my dad, and I don’t have to be as afraid for my life as I’m used to. Trust me, Scott, this move is a good thing.”
Xxx
“You haven’t told her?”
“No, Laura, that’s what I’m trying to explain to you right now!”
“Derek, I cannot believe you. You’re planning on proposing! How long do you plan on keeping him a secret?”
Derek groans and runs his hands down his face, sitting down across from his sister. “I don’t know. I don’t want to tell her if she’s going to react badly.”
“Derek, she’s going to be upset if you tell her now but who knows how mad she’ll be if she finds out from someone else.”
“You’re right.”
“I know.” Laura waves their waiter over and asks for the check. “So on a completely unrelated topic, did he look as good as his instagram pictures make him seem?”
“Can we not talk about Stiles?”
“I’m just curious, Der. Noah always says he’s gotten tougher and stronger and that he certainly looks the part. And Stiles was always pretty creative, I didn’t know if he was photoshopping his selfies.”
“Yes, Laura, he looks good.”
Laura smiles victoriously at that and Derek snatches the check from the waiter when he gives it to them.
“No, let me pay--”
“Absolutely not,” Derek says. “It would only make you happy and you’re getting on my nerves.”
A few minutes later, the two siblings walk outside and conveniently run into Sheriff Stilinski who is carrying a tray full of coffees. |
42037955f3114c13b545453e0892ea7c | ['cdc2f1be9c114fc99cb815427bd0d78d'] | The next few hours went by in a drunken, pleasurable blur; Bull and Krem sneakily carried her back to her chambers under the cover of the darkness that now fell, where the two of them attended to the task of distracting Sulahn’nehn fully from her unwanted emotions. Krem restrained her wrists and caressed and kissed her tenderly while she rode the Bull. Her friends left her in her bed, satiated and relaxed, and returned to their own quarters.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm actually considering doing a series of one-shots of all the people Sulahn'nehn fucks before Solas comes back because she has no limits whatsoever. He took her virginity when she was 26, and she had held on to it so preciously all her life she thinks she has nothing left to lose. She locks away her heart and opens her legs to try to forget him. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn't so tragic. That doesn't mean I can't get some great smutty comedy out of it ;)
>
> Comment if you want to see that, because I might even take requests into account...
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sulahn'nehn dreams of a mysterious wolf, and in her anguish tells him all about her heartbreak. She asks him to cure her... and he reveals himself. Fen'Harel finally tells her the truth, and together they go through the Eluvians to the Fade to free the city of Arlathan from its locked slumber.
>
> NSFW Chapter: Lavellan X Solas (Fen'Harel)
That night, as she dreamed again of her quiet Fade-world that was so similar now to her real surroundings, her naked, sun-soaked meditative solitude was interrupted by a massive white wolf that padded towards her sorrowfully. Her drunkenness must have let her guard slip as she dreamed. She was momentarily embarrassed for her nakedness, in her sunbathing state, but she could do little to fix it now. She had done her best to prevent any others from entering her private world, especially Solas, adept Dreamer mage that he still was. But this wolf was familiar, so like the statues she had grown up around.
The god she had come to admire most of the ancient pantheon her people revered stood before her, the cunning trickster god who the Dalish elves long reviled in their mistaken belief that he had caused the fall of their gods and empire through his great betrayal, something the Temple of Mythal had taught her was untrue. She had come to revere him as a god of rebellion, a god of freedom, the patron god of her free empire.
Like Briala, she was one of the very few who worshipped at his alcove in the Pantheon, though she attended the temple rarely in her diminished devotion. In spite of her lifetime of priesthood in service to Sylaise, she no longer worshipped the goddess at all. Her vallaslin had long guilted her as she dropped the Vir’Atish’an, Sylaise’s pacifist path, almost as soon as she became the Herald of Andraste and was forced into the throes of battle. She was sick of being a dirthenera, now that she was free of her Dalish role’s bounds, and scornfully judged the goddess’s choice of forcing her followers to sing endlessly in her service, such a tiring display.
The only other god she attended to was Toth, the old god of fire, who she had long secretly revered through her own long-established love of the flame’s blessed and mighty heat and light. She learned of the old god in Circle tomes as she travelled the empire at her Keeper’s command in her early adulthood, already jaded in her early life and many punishments as a dirthenera and sick of her own endlessly singing duties, curious for change now that she had the rare opportunity to travel and see new things. She never mentioned her secret worship of the god, revered by the Tevinter as well as the ancients long before them, to anyone but Solas. As empress, none could dissuade her from her free expression of worship, even her endlessly complaining Council, and she extended that complacency and privilege to her citizens with grace. She no longer cared about her mother’s complaints; she would only find something else to complain about.
“Fen’Harel? Interesting,” said the elven empress, bowing deeply to the god she most admired of her pantheon. “It is a pleasure to meet you, hahren.” She had yet to encounter Mythal in her dreams as her people now claimed to do so often, but here was yet another dormant member of the ancient elven pantheon, interrupting an elf in her dreaming state. What did they want from the elves? Why now?
“I am curious as to why your kind have decided to attend to us now. Our people have suffered slavery, abject poverty, and diminished lifespans in your slumber. Our culture flounders. We are becoming increasingly infertile, and our numbers dwindle. We have needed your help for thousands of years,” she said passionately, presumptively admonishing the ancient god with her words.
The wolf did not speak, but simply stared at her, a seemingly sorrowful expression in its six great eyes. She sighed; these beings loved to make things difficult. “If you will not speak, my lord, why do you disturb my dreams?” she asked. She had no time for reticence, even in her sleep. This wolf was beginning to remind her of Solas.
She entreated to him. Perhaps flattery would appease the god into response. “I have heard great tales of your cunning exploits from one who was once dear to me, my lord. I admire your wisdom. I worship at your altar, and I have dedicated my empire to your memory. I would be honored to help you in your needs, if you will only explain them.” The wolf simply sat and stared at her, looking around at the great model she had built of her palace hesitantly. | 3db2e945f2474a8e99e285aaef3bb508 | ['cdc2f1be9c114fc99cb815427bd0d78d'] | He took her again for the third time that day, insatiable in his passion, rougher than ever as he lifted her legs high above his shoulders. They eventually lay gently entwined in the furs of his bed, Fen’Harel quietly thinking to himself as Sulahn’nehn caressed his smooth, pale muscles with a single finger. He smiled fondly at her. “It has been so long since I shared this bed with anyone. Indeed, since I shared myself with anyone. I am so glad for your forgiveness, my dear heart. Ar lath ma, vhenan.”
She smiled at him sweetly and snuggled in closer. “I love you, too. So much, Fen’lath,” she whispered as she pressed her face into his slender chest. Amid the obstinately wolfish decor of his ancient bedroom, her body still burning with the pleasurable pain of his ardent scratches and bites in a way she did not yet wish to heal, she could no longer deny the true nature of her wolf god lover.
He stroked her hair, a tiny gesture that left her whole body tingling in comfort and satisfaction. “We have much to do on the morrow. It is important that we _wake up_.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "Fen'lath" = "wolf love"
>
> He's so wolfy here. I think he's just really into wolves at his house, y'know? I know a guy who has these big cat posters and figurines everywhere. Same sort of thing... with more biting. Rawr.
>
> I hope the gods came off as douchey and mean as I tried to make them. Like, they don't deserve to lead a cheer squad, let alone a damn divine pantheon. What shitty people. No wonder Arlathan was so messed up. Fuck 'em.
>
> Morrigan's spirit is still in there, but Mythal is too strong. Morrigan will just stay repressed and die off eventually while her mother takes over completely. I'm sorry :(
5. Chapter 5
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Fen'Harel and Sulahn'nehn return to Atish'an, where the elves with vallaslins are acting very strangely. Fen'Harel begins removing the vallaslins from the elves to free them. They tour the city of Atish'an, and visit the College of Healing where Sulahn'nehn practices curing the Blight on live patients.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I just want to point out that "Andaran Atish'an" (the traditional elven greeting: Enter this place in peace / literally "I dwell in this place, a place of peace") has a double meaning when you say it in the city of Atish'an. I didn't intend it originally but it made me chuckle.
When she awoke in Skyhold, Fen’Harel was already up, pacing outside on her balcony in thought with his hands behind his back. She let him think, and went to her desk to retrieve her quill and parchment. She began to draft a letter to her Tevinter friend Dorian in Minrathous, cryptically speaking of an impending invasion and urging him to quickly redouble his efforts to evacuate the slaves and commoners of his great slaver city into her lands. She quickly dressed, retrieving the pieces of her armor scattered down the stairs, and left Fen’Harel to his thoughts as she attended to urgent business. She would return to him soon enough.
She went straight to Cullen’s office, entering without knocking, where the general was at his desk, frowning in focus at a letter. Somehow, he had grown quite a lot of stubble in the day or two since she had left for Arlathan and returned. She spoke quickly, still unnoticed. “Cullen, my friend. I have important news for you. The city of Arlathan has returned to Thedas, and the ancient elves are declaring war on Tevinter. Please have our couriers deliver this letter to Dorian as soon as possible.” The general dropped his missive in surprise and stared at her. “Maker, you’re back! What? How? What does this mean? Where were you? We were all terribly worried.” She sighed. It was complicated.
“I will explain later. It involves a great deal of old magic, and our friend Solas, who is actually the ancient elven god Fen’Harel, by the way. But first we have important work to attend to. I request that we redirect our troops in Tevinter. Will you send five hundred non-elven soldiers to the Arlathan Forest, and a thousand soldiers of any background to Minrathous? We must help Dorian evacuate the city before they attack.”
The former templar stared at her in confusion, finally shrugging and nodding. “As you wish, Your Radiance. I will dispatch the troops today, and send your letter immediately with a guarded courier.” She nodded. “Thank you, Cullen. I will explain everything soon.” She left as quickly and quietly as she entered. She truly did not have time to explain it all to Cullen just yet. She began to understand her lover’s former reticence.
She returned to her quarters, which were empty. She made her way back down the stairs and found Fen’Harel in his rotunda, reading a book. “Good morning, Fen’lath,” she smiled, enjoying the sound of her new pet name for her lover. “We must return to Atish’an as soon as possible. Have you gathered your belongings?” He nodded, gesturing at a solitary leather case in the corner of the room. “I will have the servants bring it to our carriage. Come, my love, let’s make our way to the gates.” They walked together hand in hand through the whispering court to the gates, into her great white-lyrium embellished imperial carriage, pulled by two great red harts. |
2661e5b8a12f4e9aa6ab265d225c7910 | ['cdd5ef04c1514b62ad33a1a44cf82ecf'] |
I Must Love Insanely
**Author's Note:**
> This was originally going to be part of an angsty multi-chapter fic but I figured it could easily translate into a one shot. I guess I'm just gently easing myself into the world of ao3. Pls be gentle with me.
LINK - This Is What It Feels Like by BANKS
“Say it again.”
A garbled response.
“Say it again, you _bitch_.”
The grip around Jungkook’s neck let up slightly; just enough for him to wheeze out the words “she wasn’t you.”
“Fucking right she wasn’t,” Jimin sneered, reasserting his hold, “You better fucking remember it.”
Jungkook squirmed, legs twitching as he tried to curb the urge to kick them out and escape, “Baby, please…s’too much…”
What he meant by that, Jungkook didn’t know. The situation itself wasn’t unfamiliar or unwelcome by any means. Quite the contrary. No, it was the fear that was new.
It wasn’t all encompassing or anything of that ilk. It was a mild apprehension at most. The lowest of a low grade anxiety. A twinge of nervous doubt. All the same, it was a feeling Jungkook rarely, if ever, associated with Jimin. Even now, Jungkook wasn’t frightened of _Jimin_ per say. That’d be ridiculous. In fact, he couldn’t even pinpoint what was causing the low grade niggle of unease. Perhaps that was the cause itself. Not knowing.
Jimin’s brow furrowed, regarding Jungkook with an expression reminiscent of concern; though Jungkook doubted Jimin was capable of such a feeling. He often traded his emotions for something more easily dealt with. Like spite or envy. Such was the cause of their current predicament.
“Baby?” Jimin released Jungkook’s throat entirely, Jungkook’s cock slipping out of him as he pulled off and sat back on his haunches. Jungkook gasped like a landed fish, chest heaving. A small hand squeezed his thigh, grounding him.
Jungkook drew a shuddering breath and glided his hand down to interlink their fingers, “’M sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jimin’s eyes narrowed, “Why are you sorry? I was the one choking you.”
Jungkook shook his head, “No, I just…I don’t know. I didn’t mean for you to stop. You were close.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook,” Jimin huffed out a humourless laugh, “That’s such a ridiculous thing to apologise for. Apologising for fucking some clap riddled skank, sure that’s reasonable. But this? Fucking stupid.”
“I’m sorry for fucking her,” Jungkook was surprised to find that he meant it, “She didn’t mean anything. She…she wasn’t you.”
Jimin sighed, “Baby, we’ve been over this. I don’t care who you fuck. Hell, I get off on hearing about it. How fucking weird is that? I knew what I was getting into.”
Jungkook flushed. A debauched relay of Jungkook’s latest unsatisfying yet incontrovertibly violent fuck with some sex starved nobody had occasionally been touched upon whilst fucking Jimin. Yes, it was unconventional. Yes, it was perverse. But it kept things undeniably interesting. Jealousy sparked anger. Anger sparked malice. Malice sparked multiple rounds of healthy, unrefined, ass-fucking.
But that begged the question; what was different? Why was Jungkook currently staring at Jimin like a deer in fucking headlights?
“Why are you so scared?” Jimin’s voice jerked him from his contemplations, “Why is my baby so scared?”
Jungkook squirmed miserably. Of course, Jimin knew. Jimin always knew. Saw through Jungkook. Right through him; impassively beholding his hideous contemplations, his ardour for chaos, his hunger for cruelty. For violence.
It was unsurprising that Jimin could see this too.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook whispered, “I have no fucking clue.”
Jimin cocked his head to one side, sweeping his palm absentmindedly across Jungkook’s abdomen. Jungkook shivered.
“Were you gentle with her?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing, “Did you _make love_ to that little cunt? Did you treat her like a fucking princess? Huh? Is that what’s got you scared?”
Jungkook shook his head violently. The very idea was preposterous. Disgusting even.
“No, baby,” Jungkook said; tone almost pleading, “No, no, no. I could see the outline of my cock in her throat. Made her puke while I skull fucked her. You know they’re my fuck toys, darling. Cock sleeves, all of them. You’re my everything, angel, I swear!”
The words were strung together insensibly; a garbled amalgam of pleas and protestations. The desperation to placate Jimin overshadowed rational thought. But it was imperative that Jimin understand.
Jimin hummed thoughtfully, “I don’t know baby. How can you prove it? Prove that this,” Jungkook hissed as Jimin grasped his cock and gave it a few tight strokes, “belongs to me? How do I know that this pathetic little cock doesn’t belong to some little tramp, huh?”
“Baby, _ah_ ,” Jungkook choked on a moan as Jimin continued lazily jacking his dick, “It belongs to you. Only you.”
“You’re right,” Jimin picked up the pace, pausing only to rub Jungkook’s cock head in circular motions. Jungkook felt his muscles clench as he keened, “I own you, baby. Every fucking inch of you, every _molecule_ , belongs to _me_.”
Now, whether it was the lingering fear or perhaps just the sheer possessiveness of the statement but Jungkook found himself arching violently. He came until he ached with it; until he was a shaking, babbling mess of nonsensical thoughts, sweat and semen.
“Fucking hell, baby,” Jimin’s voice was distant, though Jungkook could just make out his wide eyes; his expression one of pure shock, “You came so fucking hard.”
Yet again, Jungkook couldn’t determine why, but he surged up, dislodging Jimin and pinning him to the bed by the wrists. He felt the delicate bones grind together; like they were in danger of snapping. Jimin stared at him, one eyebrow raised; the corner of his mouth twitching. The ghost of a smirk. An open provocation. An invitation.
“There you are,” he whispered, “There you are, darling.” | 0dffe1cb417d49e7b9ea74650bef4568 | ['cdd5ef04c1514b62ad33a1a44cf82ecf'] | It was impulsive – instinctive really – when Jungkook dived down and latched onto Jimin’s lower lip. He bit down hard, blunt teeth splitting soft flesh. His tongue lashed at the wounds; coaxing small beads of blood to the surface. Jimin moaned and Jungkook swallowed that too.
“Fuck…” the word was barely more than a muffled exhalation, “There you are…”
Jungkook wasn’t entirely mindful of Jimin moving his hips frantically against his, but he was cognisant enough to slide a hand to Jimin’s pelvis and press down; stilling the unconscious movements. The resultant whine was mollifying.
“Jungkook…” Jimin’s voice was hoarse, “Sweetheart, please. Let me come this time. I need it so fucking bad…”
Jungkook gave one last defiant lick to Jimin’s now thoroughly wrecked lower lip before hitching one of Jimin’s legs around his waist. He felt the smooth hardness against his stomach; wet and pulsing. Strands of precome connected their flesh, fusing them together into one mindlessly insatiable organism. Jungkook had already come but he felt Jimin’s arousal as it was his own. Not enough to get him hard, but enough for him to crush Jimin against him and work a hand between Jimin’s legs.
Keeping one leg firmly wrapped around his lower back; Jungkook took hold of the other and spread it. The low whine of discomfort was quiet enough for him to ignore as he thrust two fingers into the still wet warmth of Jimin’s hole.
There was no finesse, no affection. No semblance of restraint. Jungkook’s fingers were relentless in their fucking; ramming into Jimin with no promise of stopping until he was an incoherent, drooling mess.
Jimin’s moans were more akin to screams; a deliberate feat, Jungkook knew. Jimin wanted to be silenced. To be forced to just take what Jungkook gave him without the ability to verbally object. To be subdued and silently disciplined. To have a large, slender hand halt the yells and false protestations.
Jungkook released Jimin’s leg and used his free hand to wrap around Jimin’s throat without preamble or warning. He pressed down hard; digging his nails into the soft skin either side of Jimin’s pretty neck.
Hush descended; the only noise being the faint, rhythmic slapping of Jungkook’s palm against Jimin’s perineum. Jimin couldn’t draw breath enough to formulate sounds. Not even a gurgle left his lips as Jungkook pressed down harder. Not enough to crush his windpipe, but close.
Just how Jimin liked it.
There’d be bruises, Jungkook knew. Fingernail marks too. Physical reminders they would fawn over for days; gleeful in the knowledge that Jungkook had suspended Jimin on the precipice of death without pushing him over the edge. It was beautiful. Serendipitous almost.
Jimin was close, Jungkook knew. Could always tell. His body twitched; his thighs shook uncontrollably, hands clawing desperately at the comforter. His mouth opened and closed; lungs screaming for denied air. The euphoria associated with drowning built and built; spurred on by the unyielding stimulation of Jimin’s prostate. And Jungkook could feel it _all_.
It was an orgasm unparalleled; an unrelenting, violent thing. It lasted forever; a crescendo of thick strands shooting between them, connecting them in a final rush of ecstasy.
Jungkook lost himself to it; hand still squeezing at Jimin’s throat. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. He would prolong the feeling for however long it lasted. It was _necessary_.
With a final twitch, Jimin’s eyes rolled back as he slipped into unconsciousness. |
000a3c1de32e478e899f8cdf427a7780 | ['cde78b07e79d42ac8f2b48da125c3177'] |
TaeTen Drabbles
**Author's Note:**
> I’m going to apologize in advance for all the errors I committed. I maybe sleepy while writing this.
Everyone in their dorm could notice Ten’s sour mood. Kun, Sicheng, Lucas, Hendery, Xiaojun and Yangyang had been exchanging glances for the past few hours as they watch Ten pout while scrolling his phone.
They watched as he sighed loudly, obviously annoyed of what he had seen on his mobile. He then went to his room, stomping his feet along the way.
“What happened to him?” Kun asked when he was sure Ten was out of earshot.
“Did someone lock Weiwei up?” Lucas asked. “He’s been petting the cat earlier today saying he misses kitty.”
“I think it’s a different kitty.” Sicheng laughed, shaking his head.
“Oh I think I know why!” Hendery chimed in, his eyes fixed on his phone screen. Everyone looked at him as he showed photos from previews of Neo City in Paris.
“He knows those are just for show, right?” Yangyang asked no one in particular.
“Well, he hasn’t seen his partner in weeks,” Xiaojun pointed out. “He misses him and then he see that online.”
“I think they wanted to go to Paris together, right?” Kun asked, remembering what his friend has told him before.
“They said that in one of their VLives.” Hendery nodded at Kun.
“Do we need to do anything to help him out?” Lucas asked before everyone looked at each other and to where Ten is.
“Let’s talk to him,” Sicheng suggested. “He probably needs us for support?”
Everyone went inside the bedroom where Ten was sulking at. They were standing, all looking at Ten.
“What?”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hendery asked and everyone looked at Ten with concern.
Ten sighed. “I’m happy for him doing concerts around the globe, okay? I’m happy for my friends. If you think I’m jealous of the photos I see online with him flirting to almost everyone? I know it’s for show.”
“But you can’t help but feel jealous, don’t you?” Xiaojun asked and Ten just plopped himself unti his bed as he sighed loudly.
“He promised he’ll call me when he gets there in Paris but he hasn’t called me yet,” Ten pouted, sitting down. “He did post something on twitter so I’m sure he has phone with him.”
“What if he forgot?” Yangyang asked. Kun immediately elbowed him, signalling him to shut up.
“He forgot?” Ten asked to no one in particular. “He forgot about me? He forgot about his boyfriend?”
“Look Ten, I’m pretty sure Taeyong hasn’t forgotten about you,” Sicheng tried to reassure Ten before glaring at Yangyang for giving Ten such idea. It would be hell not only for Taeyong but for everyone if Ten gets into a foul mood all because of his fight or upcoming fight with Taeyong. “He’s probably just...preoccupied.”
“Yeah, hyung is most likely preoccupied with things there like,” Kun paused thinking of other possible things to keep Taeyong from calling Ten right away as promised. “Concert preparations?”
“I just have to remind him that I, Ten, exists in this planet.” Ten smirked at the sudden idea that popped into his mind.
“Yeah!” Hendery cheered. “That’s the spirit!”
“Oh god...” Kun sighed as he slowly put his left hand on his temple to massage it.
“The lighting seems good,” Ten said as he looked at the window. Then he handed his phone to Hendery. “Now, take good photos of me.”
“You’re going to upload photos.” Sicheng mumbled as he watched Ten pose on his bed while Hendery takes photos of him.
Kun just shook his head and walked out. Basing from Ten’s poses, he knew he’s planning to tease Taeyong. Kun just have to pray for his friend, Taeyong’s sanity.
Once satisfied with all the photos taken by Hendery, Ten decided to post his photos on Weibo and later on Twitter. “Now, I’ll wait for his call.”
“If he doesn’t?” Lucas asked as they watch Ten focusing on his phone.
“If he won’t call within the day, then he’ll get the block.” Ten said, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed.
—-
On the other side of the world, Taeyong and the other members were given time to explore the city. Taeyong was so excited to the idea of coming to Europe especially to Paris. After all, he and his boyfriend, Ten has been planning to come to Paris together. Unfortunately, their schedule doesn’t match up especially with the world tour, it was quite impossible for them to sneak and travel to Paris secretly.
He sighed at the thought of stepping foot to Paris without his other half. He missed Ten. His eyes immediately grew wide when he remembered he promised to call Ten as soon as they arrive in Paris.
“Shit.” He murmured to himself as he checked his watch.
“What?” Doyoung asked after hearing Taeyong.
“I forgot to call Ten,” Taeyong groaned as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. He then saw messages and a few missed calls from him. “Why did I put my phone on silent? Shit.”
“He was calling?” Doyoung asked to which the older nodded. He then chuckled at him. “You’re a dead man, hyung.”
“H-he uploaded photos,” Taeyong mumbled as he saw the photos of his boyfriend that was newly posted on their SNS account. “Shit.”
Doyoung raised an eyebrow at Taeyong. The older gulped before he locked his phone.
“I—I gotta head back to the hotel,” Doyoung just stared at Taeyong while Taeyong looked like he was in a rush. “Bye!”
With that, Taeyong left.
Minutes after Ten posted, his phone rang. As predicted, his boyfriend called. His other members left him alone in his room so he immediately answered the video call.
“Yes? Why are you calling?” Ten asked, feigning innocence.
“I-I’m sorry,” Taeyong obviously rushed back to his hotel room. Ten noticed that. “I was thinking too much about you that I forgot to call. I’m sorry, baby.” | 0347e03e949e4ebe9940d83b7d5282a0 | ['cde78b07e79d42ac8f2b48da125c3177'] | “Alright,” the bartender nodded and took back the menu being handed by Ten. “Whiskey on the rocks coming up.”
After a few drinks by himself, a woman sat on the chair on his left. At first he didn’t mind but she had been extending her legs too much that it was purposely touching Ten’s. He then looked towards her direction, smiling politely. She smiled at him seductively, a finger twirling the ends of her long, dry and curly hair. Her dress’ neckline was way too low, exposing her huge fake boobs. Ten had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the woman who doesn’t seem to realize how ineffective her seduction was to him.
“You also came alone, handsome?” The woman asked, running a hand on Ten’s arm, making the man flinch in response.
“Thanks but I’m gay,” Ten said as he took the woman’s hand off his arm. “I’m pretty sure you can find some other men around. Straight ones, please. Find them so you can have a dick tonight.”
The woman gasped with his last sentence. She looked disgusted and offended but Ten doesn’t feel like apologizing. He was just giving her a heads up and a tip. They both prefer dicks and that’s the truth that the woman needs to hear. She then rolled her eyes and stomped her feet before strutting away to find another to successfully flirt with.
Ten then heard the man on his right chuckle, making him turn his head towards his direction. Ten couldn’t help but check out the man. His hair was in a dark red and his side profile alone made Ten bit his lip. His jawline was like those perfectly carved by God himself. Then he turned to Ten, a smirk on his face. If his side profile made Ten bit his lip, now that Ten saw the entirety of his face, he just wanted to kneel and to show how talented he could be.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” the man told and goodness, his voice was deep and cold. “The part when you said you’re gay surprised her but the best part was when you told her to find straight ones so he can have a dick tonight.”
“Which one are you?” Ten asked before taking a sip of his fourth drink.
“Excuse me?” The stranger asked, blinking at him. Ten then noticed how, despite of the slit on his eyebrows, the man looked cute even though he looked someone cold a minute ago.
“Straight or...”
“Gay.”
“Top or bottom?”
The guy then smirked before leaning in closer, a hand resting in front of Ten. “Do you really want to know?”
“If I say yes, will you tell me?”
“I will show you.” He whispered as he placed his hand on Ten’s thigh.
Ten felt his body heating up with the touch made by the man. He then smiled and placed a soft kiss on the man’s jaw then to his ear before whispering. “Show me then.”
———
As soon as they arrived at the man’s hotel room which was near the bar, the two started making out as if their life depended on it. Ten’s back was on the wall, his hands were on the nape of the man and the other running through the man’s dark red hair.
The man slid down his hands on Ten’s waist before it went down on his butt, groping it. The two then moved to the bed, never breaking off the kiss. Ten was now on the man’s lap, grinding his ass against his hardening member. The stranger was now kissing his neck and then sucking it making Ten bit his lip in pleasure.
He felt the man’s hand sliding under his shirt, his cold hands touching his skin, giving him additional pleasure. He then proceeded in disregarding Ten’s top before flipping him down on the bed. Ten smirked in pleasure, enjoying how the man knew what he was doing. The man started taking off his top, tossing it to the side. Ten then decided to help by taking off his own pants while the other gets rid of his too.
When Ten has gotten rid of his clothing, his focus was now back on the man and his excited member. Ten then licked his lip and looked at the handsome man in front of him. “May I?”
“All yours tonight, babe,” The man smiled at Ten. Ten then touched the tip of the member, teasing the head with its precum. Ten then spitted on his hand before he began pumping it, slowly at first and gradually speeding up. “Suck it.”
“With pleasure.” Ten looked up before kissing the head. He then started sucking it before taking more of its length. He then pulled away before taking it all in his mouth, making the man suck in his breath in pleasure.
“S-stop,” the man moaned, holding Ten’s hair. “I want you to lie down and spread that cute ass of yours.”
Ten did as he was told, lying flat on his back, leg widely spread.
“Beautiful,” the man murmured stroking his thighs. Then slowly moving closer to his sensitive member. The man touched Ten’s member lightly, teasing it. “Do you like being touched here?”
“P-please...” Ten moaned holding the man’s hand in place. “I need it.”
The man bit his lip, looking at Ten as he enveloped Ten’s member with his hand. He began teasing it’s tip, spreading his precum from the tip to its entire length. He then freed Ten’s erected member and lightly rubbed Ten’s ass. “What do you want now?”
“You. In. Me.” Ten said in between his panting as he looked at the beautiful man staring at him. The man then nodded before bending down to kiss him. |
1ca0563ff84c4978b6145ce7e531bab5 | ['ce0222c46ed04a148711c4360f3023df'] | 3. This isn’t like losing himself, so it’s not what Tooru wants. What he wants from his company, his keepsake lovers and lonely (no, he’s not lonely, that’s not what he meant at all, lonely sounds a lot like being alone and Tooru’s already established that he’s successfully evaded that for a long, long time now), if temporary kindred spirits, is to lose himself in someone else for a while, not look for himself in said company in the kind of way that makes him want to keep looking for a long, long time.
Having properly established the following breaches of unsaid-but-still-expected conduct in his head, Tooru then, with some difficulty, directs his higher brain functions to the rather (bothersome, arduous) unpleasant task of informing said offender of his breaches in one-night-stand code of conduct.
But fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately, Tooru’s not quite sure what to make of the distinct feeling of loss as those arms stop their immediate connection to his waist. He’s just cold now, that’s all. Yes, he’s always been quite sensitive to chill and this code-of-conduct offender just happened to be hot as a furnace on a winter day) he’s spared the trouble of doing so by the stranger himself. Because he is a he, as Tooru’s lovers tend to fall into a certain demographic of tan and strong and rough but not unkind, and he refuses to admit that this must be some kind of masochistic streak he’s gone and encouraged for seven long years, absolutely not - and he’s not lying about that either, because he might be full of regrets but he’s not a liar, he’s not he’s not he’s _not_.
So the stranger disentangles himself, in the process adding distance enough between their bodies for Tooru to turn around. Rather suddenly, he finds himself only inches away from a face that’s as familiar as it is painful, and o _h god_ no wonder his head hurts, he must’ve been smashed six ways to Sunday to let himself get away with doing this, _oh god oh god oh god_ he’s fucked up and now he’s found something else to top the list of nines he’s been collecting in his head.
From the chaos breaking loose in the confines of Tooru’s mind, he dimly registers the horrified look of recognition beginning to dawn across Iwa-chan’s - no, Iwaizumi’s - no, that’s not quite right either, god damn it _all_ he can’t even say his _name_ anymore - irritatingly pleasing, if a little (read: a lot) distressed, plain features.
You could’ve heard a pin drop - slicing through the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the room as it fell - with how quiet it had gotten; just the faint hum and whirr of the air conditioner, the uncomfortably loud silence between two people with far too many words left unsaid.
***
In an unassuming apartment amidst the hustle and bustle of Tokyo’s busy streets, two souls more than friends but less than lovers look into each other’s eyes again for the first time in seven years.
Quite predictably, all hell breaks loose.
Like a two-man war in the middle of a city well-accustomed to peace.
…there are no guarantees for survivors.
***
_“ Iwa-chaaan!”_
_Oikawa Tooru is six years old, headstrong and obstinate, the very picture of childish petulance. He’s best friends with Iwaizumi Hajime, also six years old; strong and steady for his age, if a little prone to violence when concerning bratty, trashy and reluctantly-admitted best friends. Together, the two make a pair that is six years in the making and a lifetime in warranty._
_“…what is it now, Oikawa?”_
_“…why’d you pause before answering, Iwa-chan? How rude. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d think you don’t even wanna play with me at all!”_
_“That’s because I don’t, trashy Oikawa. What do you want?”_
_“You’re such a bully AND a liar, Iwa-chan, this is why you don’t have any other friends. But that’s okay. The amazing Oikawa-san is here to make sure you’re never lonely.”_
_“…whatever, Trashykawa. It’s probably just ‘cause they don’t wanna stick around YOU. Let’s go put on that dumb alien movie you like so much.”_
_“So you DID know what I wanted - and stop shortening insults, Iwa-chan!!”_
_They were a living contradiction. Tooru and Hajime, a friendship built from well-practiced banter and secret smiles, breathless laughter and shared dreams. Two childhood friends, lonely and hesitant without the other, but fearless and bright together. Untouchable and invulnerable, two children playing heroes and make-believe, with a future that looked happy and endless and hopeful. Just two kids living life in a world of play pretend, and - also the beginning of the end._
_The downward spiral was slow, subtle and almost non-existent, but it was there. Because even if they were opposites on the outside, inside they were both the same, and everyone knows it’s the inside that matters most, anyway._
_…You know how it goes already, right?_
_Opposites pull each other, attracted; identical things push each other away, repulsed._
***
Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him now. Take care of yourself, don’t push too hard, it doesn’t matter if you can’t win all the time, it doesn’t matter if you’re on your own - Iwa-chan’s not here to anchor his head from the clouds, Iwa-chan’s not here to stop him from hurting himself…Iwa-chan’s not here to make him invincible, Iwa-chan’s not here so who does he have to make sure is never lonely?
Alone, alone, alone.
It doesn’t matter anymore that he’s finally here, right in front of him, face-to-face and just inches away. Seven years is a long time to get used to new habits. So, while the space between Tooru and Hajime’s fingers has never been smaller, it’s also never been further apart. | 40f67fdf0b36419c9bb186c672fea098 | ['ce0222c46ed04a148711c4360f3023df'] | _The king_. Hailed as the greatest leader in all the lands, Alexander was - _is_ \- your childhood friend and lifelong partner. Alexander, who had deemed you well enough to leave temporarily in order to attend to the rest of the Empire. There’s talk enough as it is amongst the nobility, even without the monarch dropping everything to pay visits to a lesser’s sickbed. You’ve heard the rumours, heard the whispers trailing your footsteps. _Blatant favouritism… rules the king with his thighs_ … You’ve heard the rumours, but it’s the words of someone else that linger, burned into the deepest recesses of your mind. Words like _we will rule together_ , _you and I_ , words like _where would I be without you?_ , words like _he too is Alexander_.
_you are two peas in a pod, a single soul abiding in two bodies —_
It’s dangerous, playing with fire, and he isn’t your lover but he is your king; and that, you think, counts for more than all the riches across the entire Empire.
You think, _if it’s you, I wouldn’t mind following for the entirety of my existence, and in every one after._
***
_and then i will close my eyes_
_[a jousting tournament’s finals, England]_
Breathe. In, out. Slow and heavy and deep, an air of forced calm with every inhale and exhale. The finals draw ever nearer, and your lord has quite a hefty sum riding on its results. You will not fail him, of course; you never have, and maybe that’s why he trusts you so, the chivalrous knight winning tournaments left and right in the name of his lord. Heralds call your name, and a roaring crowd answers back. It’s a full house today, all eyes on you, but that doesn’t matter. There’s only one person in the entire arena whose attention you wish to hold, whose gaze you wish to be always upon you - and for now, it is. So long as you continue to win, you think maybe it always will. You could never fail him.
_(a stunned silence and the crowd explodes)_
_(a lance through your chest but the ache in your heart)_
In the seconds it takes to fall from your horse to the ground, a lone figure pushes to the front of the crowd. He stands tall but not proud, shaking; a defeated lord. The sun is still bright, but darkness settles in your eyes, licks at the edges of your vision, and in this final moment you decide that you didn’t have to keep winning to keep his attention on you, not at all. You just had to keep coming back to him, in the end, and the knowledge doesn’t make your heart hurt any less as your eyes slip shut.
***
_[the Ipatiev House, Russia]_
_A little longer, just a little longer._ The same sentence over and over again for days, in equal parts a mantra and a plea; to whichever gods might be listening, to a person your own age just miles away now, to wait a little longer. Soon you’d be there, and soon they would be safe.
_if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride_
It had been a long time coming, and the Romanov family had been moved from place to place, more and more remote each time, but finally they would be saved. There’s a niggling voice at the back of your mind, relentless and doubtful, but it’s dutifully ignored; overshadowed by the all-consuming, encompassing hope for reunion. To others you must sound like a zealot, a purist follower of a dying royal dynasty, and on some level perhaps it’s true. You know better, though - you’re here because you made a promise, and you are not a liar (but perhaps the promise of forever was too tall an order to ever follow through).
_where would you be without him, follow him always and forever and back again —_
***
You never were a lucky person, fighting tooth and nail for even the smallest of favours. And yet, in the cold and weary days of a childhood growing up in Russia, there was a patch of brightness. A smile like sunlight, a laugh like church bells. He was a royal, but not incapable. Your loyalty for him you expected, but there was no logic to explain the swell of fierce pride that swept over you with every step you took together.
But, you were never a lucky person, and it should make sense that this, too could not possibly last, not even in the face of a promise for forever.
_a little longer, just a little bit longer —_
The house was empty. The house was empty, and they were meant to be here but they weren’t; he was meant to be here, healthy and well and alive, not another memory in a house that was empty and smelled of gunfire and fear.
_— see you promised him forever and he said that meant for always_
You’re no stranger to loss; the loss of those most important to you especially. Not even two decades of life lived, but already you’re accustomed to an ache in your chest and an absence by your side.
Like you’ve done it all before and would do it all again.
It never makes it any easier, though.
***
_[a hospital’s front desk, Hiroshima]_ |
28dbca002cc54ad895b9c9e6d9eacf28 | ['ce3887ba91f241149cd372a4294cce22'] |
little accidents (one bad habit)
**Author's Note:**
> secret santa gift for tumblr user stellarlier. im sorry this is the literal last minute but i hope you enjoy it x)
>
> sorry for any errors in advance~
>
> hope u had a merry christmas!!
It begins, as most instances involving them do, an accident.
Vanitas had merely been running his errands, checking things off a list, tending to important responsibilities and the like. Purchasing anything other than lunch for him and Noé hadn’t been a part of those responsibilities. Money wasn’t much of an issue, though Vanitas didn’t make it a habit to just idly buy things that served him no purpose.
And yet here he was, staring at the most obnoxious little inkwell he’d ever seen, perched on a shelf unassumingly yet stealing a fair bit of his attention. He glared at the small object, as though doing so would make the inkwell disappear in all its shiny, catlike glory.
Vanitas picks the small thing up, gloved fingers rubbing at the smooth surface. He’d seen Noé glancing at it earlier, seen the way his eyes shone. It’s not like the inkwell _wouldn’t_ serve any use, it was just that Vanitas himself didn’t need it, and neither did Noé.
And yet.
Vanitas continues to hold it, and tries very hard not to think about Noé’s smile in that instant.
It seems that Noé’s smile is to blame for most of his struggles as of late.
With a last mutter to himself about a certain whitehaired vampire, Vanitas struts off to the front of the store to pay for the item, ignoring the awes of wonder he hears from Noé somewhere in the distance. He’d have to go and collect him very soon.
Tucking the bag that held the inkwell under his coat, Vanitas sets off to find his wandering Noé
~
Vanitas watches and waits, as curiosity brings Noé to the new addition to his desk. Noé’s small gasp and the following smile are enough to prod at the fluttering feelings of _something_ that Vanitas is constantly trying to ignore. Before he can lose himself, he leaves to collect breakfast for them both.
~
The second time it happens, it’s not so much of an accident.
Whenever Vanitas and Noé weren’t traipsing the streets of Paris, or off on some investigation, the few off days they had were spent indoors resting. Vanitas sitting on the roof (sometimes, Noé joined him) and Noé curled up with Murr and a book in the big red chair that sat beside his bed. Sometimes the vampire would doze off, tired from a hard day’s work or even the day before. Vanitas would close his book for him then, but the excessive amount of creased pages from being bent were a bit of an eyesore. Vanitas was off running more errands with Noé when he finds a possible solution to the problem.
A young girl is selling satin ribbons on the street corner, all sorts of colors, little charms attached at the ends. Noé once again, nowhere to be found, but still within Vanitas’s senses. He turns his gaze back to the young girl, who’s holding out the bag for him eagerly. He gives her a small smile before pulling out a rich magenta ribbon, the color of Murr’s odd eye. The attached charm was a silver display of the Eiffel tower.
Vanitas swears under his breath before he drops a few more coins than necessary into the girl’s hand. She looks baffled, but before she can question him Vanitas was on his way, the magenta ribbon clutched in his hand.
He can only hope this doesn’t become another unsavory habit of his.
~
Noé notices the bookmark when he wakes up the next morning.
Vanitas had taken care the next time the vampire dozed off while reading to close it with the ribbon this time, effectively marking the pages without creasing them the way he wanted.
He wonders vaguely if Noé even cares, but quickly brushes that thought aside when said man in question begins to stir in the chair.
Vanitas chances one more look before he leaves Noé to his own devices.
(He stays to hear the small “thank you” uttered through the window before disappearing completely.)
~
The third, fourth, and fifth times, Vanitas suspects that Noé is beginning to catch on.
Or maybe he’d known all along. Vanitas wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but he also wasn’t going to explain himself.
The elation Noé displays with each new small present is the reason Vanitas continues. He knows he shouldn’t, but each time Noé smiles _that_ smile that continuous something in his chest stirs, becomes more present, and manifests into something that goes further than a quaint endearment.
Vanitas doesn’t know why these small tokens bring the other such joy. Then again, he doesn’t know how it would feel to receive something that didn’t require compensation of some sort. But if Noé’s happy, it’s enough.
He doesn’t know why Noé hasn’t questioned him at this point.
~
The sixth time is as far from accidental as the word can be.
Vanitas finds Noé sitting on the roof by himself one morning, which by itself is a rare enough occurrence. Rarer even than Noé being awake before ten for once.
He has a look on his face that makes the words die on Vanitas’s tongue.
Distant. Unseeing, Vanitas knows whatever he’s looking at is something that he himself can only see. Noé wouldn’t notice if Vanitas waved a hand in front of his face.
He sits down beside him carefully, studies the vampire’s features.
“Noé,” he starts carefully, unsure if Noé will reciprocate.
The vampire is silent for a long time. Vanitas holds back a sigh, and makes to stand up when Noé finally speaks.
“I miss him,” is all he says, barely above a whisper. | 1b0b41a6394a47348351ed0025d28fe7 | ['ce3887ba91f241149cd372a4294cce22'] | aurora borealis
**Author's Note:**
> i brainstormed an ikuharu atla au and im kind of in love with it, take whatever this is for now i guess and if more is wanted i will try to provide.
> also i apologize in advance for any grammar/spelling mistakes it is now 4am
> please comment !!! it brightens my day :')))
Ikuya likes to watch Haru train.
It isn’t very often, not nearly as much as he’d like to, because Ikuya is always busy training himself, always working under Haru’s keen eyes until his muscles tire and his body aches for rest. Until Haru looks at him with something akin to approval for the day. Ikuya finds himself working longer and harder in hopes of receiving more.
But long after Ikuya has finished his lessons and left to attend to his other duties, Haru will continue to hone his abilities. Sometimes Ikuya will sit by the window and watch Haru from his room. Sometimes he strays closer, but not too close. There is a pure beauty and grace in the way the young waterbender moves when he is completely focused that Ikuya would never dare to interrupt. It’s almost an art, the way Haru can call on the water and bend it to his will so wondrously. It swirls, glides, slashes, _dances_ around Haru in a way that looks effortless. Haru hardly needs to bat an eye in order to bring grown men to their knees.
His talent at his young age of fifteen is already monumental, and on a good day, Haru can even keep pace with some of the guards of the palace. Him being the prince, of course, the guards are never allowed to bring actual harm to him, but Haru never even lets them come that close. When Haru trains alone, Ikuya is allowed to admire and focus on his movements only, sometimes even mimicking them if he feels like it. Most of the time though, Ikuya is just content to watch him. Ikuya already thought Haru was beautiful just as he was, but Haru when he’s bending is a true sight to behold. He is purely in his element around the water, the son of the ocean herself. That’s what the others will say about him from time to time, Ikuya hears it often. And he can’t help but to think that they are right. Haru moves with the precision and grace of a seasons old waterbender in his youth, and there is no one who quite can move the way that Haru does. The way Ikuya tries to.
(“The more you continue to work with the water, the easier it will be for you to find your rhythm. Just move, Ikuya. Breathe, and let the water respond to you. Feel it all around you. Flow.”)
Ikuya considers himself quite lucky to even be able to spend time with Haru, let alone train with him, and not just because he’s the most talented young waterbender the North can offer (though Ikuya has to admit that’s a significant part of it). Ikuya sees the way the palace girls and even some of the boys look at Haru from time to time, like he is god walking among them. He just might be, Ikuya will sometimes think to himself, when he walks with Haru and sees the glances thrown their way. Ikuya noted that Haru often moved faster on those occasions. He can’t blame any of those boys and girls, though. Ikuya thinks he might look at him just the same.
(“You have stars in your eyes, Ikuya. He’s just as normal as the rest of us.”
“Shut up, Makoto.”)
Ikuya knows he must look at Haru like he’s the world and more, but as he watches the young prince encase himself in a shimmering dome of water and ice that reflects the moon and echoes the night sky, he remembers he hardly cares what anyone else might think of his musings.
Haru looks up then, to where Ikuya sits halfway enclosed by the tall pillars and trying to contain the rising heat in his cheeks. And he smiles, in that soft way he does when watches the kids play in the snow when it falls heavy, the way he did when Ikuya was exploring the palace for the first time and could only gape in awe and wonder, taking everything in with the excitement of a young child. It makes Ikuya’s blood race and his heart pound _so_ hard, he thinks Natsuya might be able to hear it all the way from The Fire Nation.
Haruka Nanase made up all of the stars in Ikuya’s eyes. All that shined bright and burned hot and moved freely.
And as long as he’s been alive, Ikuya has always loved seeing the stars.
**Author's Note:**
> ikuya is so gay lmao. let me know if you all liked this <3 comments please !!!! talk to me about how cute ikuharu is !!!! v soft much love !!!!!!!! |
69b079b5bb624a98bd63057d86f1fcd8 | ['ce4dfa2c75cf4b558e2b17e9b4fd6ca0'] |
You'll find it here with me
**Author's Note:**
> I really think my titles and summaries need work and maybe actually have more relation to the fic? It does not matter anyhow, if there are any mistakes please feel free to point them out as I have proof-read it too little for my liking but a spur of the moment decision encouraged me to post this. So, enjoy this tidbit I wrote ages ago! :3
The kid knows pain, he knows loss, he knows grief, he knows desperation, he knows rage. He knows the bottom of that dark never-ending pit called hindsight. In hindsight everything becomes so clear. All those decisions not made. All those different paths that had extended around a bend their eyes could only see as they reached it; the final stretch unknown.
_How great would it be, to go down each path and return. Choose the most favourable outcome._
But he can't. No-one can. Foresight is a balm but such a thing as 100% accurate foresight is a mere naïve wish. There are those who possess incredible foresight yes. Strung together with their incredible intelligence and it becomes almost as good as predicting the future. However; variables. There are always, always, always variables that a lack of knowledge omits; until those variables rear their misshaped heads with a vengeance.
_It all returns to hindsight. In hindsight they shouldn't have assumed, shouldn't have based, shouldn't have relied._
It is too late now. Far too late. What is hindsight but a dark cloud looming like a blackened bruise above them? Taunting with the possibilities. The choices they could have made. So that everyone, everyone could be-
_Come back please, please oh please don't leave. I could have saved you, could have….why didn't I?_
Yet there are four graves that stand out against a hundred. Four empty spaces at the excruciatingly empty table. With it's empty chairs. Empty noise. Empty warmth. Empty eyes. Pristine green-blue and stormy grey dulled. Emptied. How long will it take them to recover? How long will it take their comrades, friends to notice the glaze is anything but a determination to live on and fight in their stead?
_Can't you tell it's moisture? These unshed sorrows hang heavy. What scream should I supress so that you will finally notice?_
The silence is tantamount. Breathing inadequate. Two is not six and six is what they miss. Two who grieve together and separately. One who has known them for far longer than the other. None whom it hits harder. Is it different for the man who had fought alongside them with implicit trust and loyalty? Who has now lost them in one merciless blow. Does it affect him more than it does the kid who has known them for but a few months?
_Kindness and warmth and laughter no more. They will not meet with them until the arms of the only one who embraces all. Finally embraces them._
The kid has lost too. It is different for him than it is to the man. Labelled a monster. Rejected but then accepted. They were his guides, his mentors, his guardians. He would go so far as to include them in his family. Oh how he admired them, respected them. Yes, he had loved them. For they, though doubtful at first, opened up, welcomed him in. And he stumbled into the warmth of their embrace.
_Ripped so cruelly away. He wished he could go back. Change his decisions but he can't. Can't can't can't. And it tears him up inside._
Green-blue eyes flicker towards the one of his squad he has left. Eyelids drooped, grey opaque, shoulders bowed, expression void. His Corporal had not looked back, told him not to regret. For regret brings about nothing. But how can he? How can Eren, who could have saved them all had he just bitten down. He had wanted to believe in them, believe in his corporal. Only one hadn't let him down.
_The reunion of corporal and subordinates, four dead, one taken, one gained back alive._
Tears would do nothing for the boy yet tears are all he has to offer in this silent room. His usual method of dealing with grief cannot be achieved unless he is faced with a giant maw adorned with equally giant rows of teeth. Here, in this silent, cold, empty room that is unachievable. Will be unachievable in the near future, if the talk of his trial goes the way they expect.
_Heartless smiles, greedy hands, corrupted orders. If Eren is handed over who will Corporal have left?_
Grey snaps up and rests on startled green. Understanding wrought with pain wrought with desperation. It startles the boy as a chair scrapes back, harsh upon his ears as it echoes too loudly. Surprisingly light footsteps sound for the mass of muscle that they carry across the room, strength they do not convey through the soft but discernible steps.
_But it is the skies that experience his strength in full. What sound does a creature with wings make upon the earth?_
He stops. Right in front of Eren. Corporal Levi looks weary. Exhausted beyond measure. Green glazes as tears flow. A sob; low, guttural, torn. No words because that is what they don't need right now. Levi rests a hand onto hair still damp with water that washed away all physical signs of the confrontation. Those that lie underneath cannot be swept away so easily.
_Warm. It is warm. This gesture of comfort, of acceptance still. It goes both ways. They will rely on each other._
Thinner arms than his, leaner and not yet defined fling around his middle. Eren's face buries itself into his chest, were Levi taller that boyish face would undoubtedly be buried in his stomach. Be that as it may his face is buried in Levi's chest; nose pressed against his ribs, forehead crushed beneath his clavicle and damp breaths heating and then cooling the fabric underneath his mouth. And maybe this is better because the brat is directly over his heart, is sure those tanned ears while not pressed to it like his forehead is, can hear the rapid beatings and perhaps this is where he needs - they both need - to take refuge.
_And so they see a glimmer. In the distance before and not behind them. Soft nudges from behind. Four pairs of hands pushing them forward._
The body shakes minutely against him. But they have it, what they both need. Their sorrow still rests with them but they have not lost their whole squad yet. Two is better than one better than none and six was good while it lasted. What they had not grasped is now clutched tightly in-between them. Their grief is not gone but it is now fuel. Fuel to push them forwards and they have not lost everything yet.
_Push forward. If you do not fight you cannot win, if you fight you must believe you won't regret the choices made. And so they will fight._
They will fight for them, because of them and most importantly so that they do not lose the last of their squad. So that one or the other will live to see another day is what they will fight for. Eren's sobs die down but their position holds. Warmth shared in this brief period.
_We will fight. Our ending might not be desirable but we will make our choices, we will not regret. We will surge forward on the wings of freedom. For them. For us._ | f6e997a0196e4a19af981ae3d9b79b1d | ['ce4dfa2c75cf4b558e2b17e9b4fd6ca0'] |
Gates of Horn and Ivory
**Author's Note:**
> NB: assumes canon blonde!petunia
And the dreamer will wake, and wonder why this dream seemed different.
Neil Gaiman.
-
They lock the toddler in the second bedroom; bawling, hurting, confused. And leave him there.
All of one, he is wholly clueless to the situation he finds himself in. Kept in the dark both metaphorically and literally. Within the capacity of his one year old mind, he wishes fervently for warmth and love and hugs and kisses. Of soothing voices and boisterous laughter. The seemingly carefree existence he was part of mere days ago.
In the dark of the room his wails echo.
All he wants, all he can want are his parents. Though he knows little of the sheer magnitude of significance he wants. Their warmth and love and magic. Hugs and kisses and smiles. He longs even as he forgets. As his memories are clouded beneath pain and fear. Eroded by the veil of time and the youngest of youth.
The boy cries a lot, these days.
And in his cries echo uncomprehending loss. In his rooms they echo forlorn.
Soon he barely remembers what they look like, their embraces or the sound of their voices. As the happy memories are replaced with darkness; of too light hair and too tight grips.
Everything is wrong but he is forgetting all that is right.
A week, two, the child remembers only the vaguest hints of what it is he so longs for. Down in his battered crib he lies, with the pain that is now a constant companion, with the hunger that is never quite sated and he dreams.
A dream weeks in the forging. Dreams that house his wants, even as they slip back into the shadows in waking hours. He dreams the same dream.
Dark hair and deep voice. Strong hands and loud laughter. Soothing whispers and secure hold. (A father who loved him enough to die for him.)
In his slumber so sound, his dream awakes.
With a glow on a jagged mark, with a longing for more than this cold, empty room. Slow and gentle it grows, a curious, creeping coil. Drawing from inside the child a life and power not all his own.
Reaching, searching, it finds. Not what the boy longs for but something...close enough; dark and amorphous. Separate-yet-linked, hovering near the boy as though unable to move further away or further inwards.
The Dream forms as such;
Dark hair, dark eyes, striking features. Pale skin, cunning sneer, confused brow tilt.
Small enough to be able to stand on the boys shoulder but not span the full length of his head. Intelligent and knowing of a lifetime yet unable to respond to both. He sits where he has formed - a scant few inches from the child - and endeavours to understand.
(His whisper of 'how are you alive child' lost to soft breathing.)
The culmination of days upon days upon nights upon a month of wanting, hoping, longing.
Is this being.
Though he knows not how or why. Rage seems a foreign concept. Protection far more prevalent. Though but a sliver he knows, is aware of what he is in conjunction with the child.
The child who is now his anchor.
He can do naught but stare and try to comprehend his situation all in its entirety. The child sleeps fitfully on.
An hour brings no change and little comprehension. Two and the Dream is beginning to feel resigned to his fate.
The next however, has the Dream stirring from his trance of counting the child's breaths.
The mark again. What caught, and captured his attention from the very first moment of notice. It shines with an essence most sacred, the same essence that has facilitated his own forming.
An essence of light and soul and magic.
(He will never forget the feeling, and how odd is it, that he can feel.)
The Dream watches as a woman is formed.
She is longing and wish and dream all mixed together. Yet, she is none of those.
Luminous, shining; a yellow-white body, fire-red hair and green, green eyes. Formed from and of and with fierce protection, deep sorrow and blazing anger.
(Where he is all dark, pale, shadow. She is light, vibrant, fire.
But they are the same in regards to the child.)
"My son." A lament, a promise, a claim, a threat, all warring together.
Too much and not enough in the Heart's words. Even as she strokes a radiant hand over sunken cheeks and puffy eyes.
The Dream almost sighs in exasperation. He shifts instead, her emitted radiance catching on wrists, neck and ankles. Bruises he harbours of a more permanent kind than the boys.
They are his marks of the essence from which they were both formed.
She strokes, then, over the mark. And the magic sings, fills her up with a blaze of power. Throbs at the places it has shackled him. It is their genesis, their purpose, their will and life. And he is bound as irrevocably as she.
He would be bound either way, the vessel that the child is to him does not allow otherwise.
As she turns to him, eyes uncomfortably alike Hers, he protests naught as she skims fingertips against the shimmering band just visible around his neck.
Though her mouth is little more than a dark outline against the yellow-white of her face, her smile unsettles him.
Perhaps it is because, in the end, he has placed it there.
The Heart dismisses him as the child stirs. Going over to settle down on his left, tucking herself to the pulse point thrumming in his neck. The Dream does sigh, in the end, and without much else to do settles himself on the child's right.
Harry Potter smiles for the first time since bright green took his whole world away.
**Author's Note:**
> I have nothing else written but have a multitude of ideas, I just wanted to post to see the reception and hopefully gain more motivation to tackle those ideas.
>
> Please feel free to point out any mistakes. |
6d1ed30f35f949ec96a6db7cc5547cb0 | ['ce6e005d8cbb4f0f8fc48ec25d01a5d5'] | “Name’s Sasha, I’m taking a break and I just wanna know.” she answered matter of factly with a shrug. “What’s your name? Where are you from?”
“Me?” he pointed dramatically to himself. “I’m Negan.” he said proudly. Sasha sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes and the man looked at her with genuine dismay. Seeing the look on his face was the fuel for her fire and she let herself laugh.
“So you’re a Savior. That’s why you asked why I want to know. God, everyone is Negan.’” Sasha laughed ironically. Eyeing the man who stared back at her just as confused, Sasha put her gun away. “You’re not gonna tell me what I wanna know so why bother? Just go.” she sighed as she climbed back into the truck, its worn polyester having cooled from her missing body heat. She placed her elbows in the nooks of the steering wheel and rested her head in her hands. Just what she needed, more stress. The man walked to the driver side and leaned against the area where the door should close and watched her quietly.
“What if I want to stay here with you a little longer? Shoot the breeze and whatnot?” he spoke low leaning close so she could hear him. Sasha huffed with indignation and turned her head to look at him, her head still near the wheel.
“You're a Savior.” she responded bluntly. He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a ‘so what if I am’ look. Inching closer to her, he brushed against her thigh and Sasha froze. Side-eyeing him, she lifted her head from her hands and propped her elbows up on the wheel. “What are you doing, mister?”
“What was that you were saying? Men being stupid or what-fucking-ever?” he asked flashing her a brilliant smile that nearly threw her off guard. Sasha withdrew into herself and placed her head back into her hands. His comment brought back all the thoughts of Abraham and Rosita being together and Sasha sucked her teeth in annoyance.
“Men are stupid. End of discussion.” she responded curtly. Laughing the man reached out and ran a long finger down her exposed arm, the touch sending an unwanted jolt of electricity throughout her body. She didn't flinch away however and instead sat back in the seat to look at him.
“You know I have a gun, right? Any funny business and I'll blow your damn head off.” she warned, her eyes staring up at his sternly.
“No funny business here, ma’am. I just hate to see a woman not be taken care of. I can take care of you.” he offered, his deep voice laced with unspoken promises. Sasha huffed and turned to face him, her legs crossed inside the bed of the truck.
“Men always make promises they can't deliver on. What makes you so different, mister?” Sasha taunted, exhaling impatiently. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, the man sunk to his knees and placed a hand on her thigh, the other propping the bat Lucille against the front tire of the truck.
“Trust me.” he cooed as ran his hand up her thigh and gently squeezed. “I always deliver.” Sasha swallowed hard as an involuntary shiver traveled down her spine and seemed to rest in her groin. Every inner alert system was telling her to run, to scream, to take her gun and blow his brains out and decorate the lavender field red. But in the back of her mind there was also a small voice telling her that one time couldn’t hurt. Abraham was having his fun so why couldn’t she and if she were to have a one time rendezvous, this guy wasn’t bad looking. Biting her lower lip, thoughts of Abraham and Rosita laying in bed together flooded her mind and she uncrossed her legs turning to him slightly.
“If you do anything I don’t like, we’re stopping. I mean it. I’m serious when I say no funny business, mister.” Sasha cautioned as she fully turned to him, allowing him to be partially between her legs. He nodded in agreement and ran his hands slowly up the front of her jeans. She watched as he expertly unfastened the button and then the zipper, his hands moving swiftly and with urgency. Sasha attempted to reason with herself once more as she felt him grip the waistband of her jeans and underwear. Unexpectedly he yanked them down to halfway her calves, nearly pulling her off the truck seat. Sasha yelped as she blindly grabbed for the back of the seat, catching it before she could be dragged out the truck. She looked down at the man in wonder and realized that he had also taken her boots off. She didn’t even feel them come off her feet. He had propped her legs up on his shoulders and was examining her. Using his fingers, he gently spread her outer lips and ran his thumb over her sensitive area. Sasha squirmed under his prying eyes and sighed as his touch sent a surge of pleasure to her core.
Noticing the increased moisture, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her thigh. He kissed up her inner thigh to her now swollen lips and kissed them as if he were kissing a lover. Sasha moaned low and continued to squirm, anxious for him to get to the prize. Bringing a hand up, he parted her lips once again and dipped his tongue into her opening, licking upwards in a circular motion and just missing her clit. Sasha whined as he repeated the cycle, each time his tongue delving deeper inside of her. Shifting forward, his nose brushed against her nub and Sasha keened, the brief contact setting her aflame. He smirked as he used his nose to nuzzle against her again and swirl his tongue around her now very sensitive clit before he latched his lips around her and sucked. Sasha’s hands instantly flexed around the seat as her hips bucked and she came, moaning louder than she intended to. Her legs clamped around his head and he laughed as he pried himself from her clutches. Standing, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and stared down at her in amusement.
“Did I fucking deliver?” he asked, clearly proud of himself. Sasha sat up and located her discarded jeans. Standing on wobbly legs, she pulled them back on and next her boots.
“Sure, if you say so.” she quipped. He scoffed and looked affronted. He picked up the bat against the tire and began to walk away.
“Better get moving, sun is setting. Next time we meet maybe we can do more. That is if you’re agreeable to it.” he mused as he walked away. Sasha shook her head as she watched him disappear into the wooded area whence he came. She smiled to herself as she gathered her things and began to make her way home and wondered if she’d ever see him again. | 8cd1728f76474d82b7fa4a0f255b0e45 | ['ce6e005d8cbb4f0f8fc48ec25d01a5d5'] |
A Little Competition
**Author's Note:**
> There's no reason I wrote this other than the fact that I love Sam Wilson and he doesn't get the love and attention he deserves.
You were seriously going to kill your friend. She was on this new fitness kick and had begged you to go walking with her. She’d drag you out of bed one morning at 5:30am to go walking. At first you were reluctant but as the weeks went by you noticed your clothes fit better and decided to stay on this fitness course. But like always, as soon as your friend started a project, she dropped it. Which was why you were now walking alone. The area wasn’t bad so there was no need to be alarmed but it was lonely. Soon you bought headphones and blasted music as you walked. Sometimes you would even sing which would be met with incredulous looks but you didn’t mind. If you wanted to belt out Queen’s We Will Rock You then dammit you would.
The day started normally; you woke up, got a shake and got ready to head out for your walk. It was going pretty well until you realized you’d left your headphones. You decided to continue since you were already too far from your place to go back for them and you grumbled to yourself. About halfway through the walk, you heard a voice call out behind you. You paid it no mind until it you heard it right next to you a second later.
“On your right!” the voice shouted and you jumped as the man ran past you with lightning speed. You stopped to watch him and was dumbfounded.
“Was that Captain America?” you asked out loud while watching him dash around the corner.
“Ah come on!” another man yelled as he passed you. You jumped again as the other man ran to try to catch up to the Captain. You smiled at his determination but even you knew that there was no way that he could keep up. Shaking your head you started to walk again. As you got back into your pace, the voice called out next to you again.
“‘Cuse me ma’am!” he yelled as he sprinted past.
“Go Cap!” you replied and got a quick thumbs up from the man before he again disappeared. You couldn’t stop the grin on your face as you started moving again. Fifteen minutes later, the other man passed you while panting heavily. You couldn’t help but laugh as the poor guy really was trying to keep up with the super soldier. The twilight sky morphed into daylight and the morning sun was brutal. You found shade under a large tree and sat in the grass. Not a minute later did Captain America come sprinting around the corner. You gave him a little salute with your index and middle finger to which he returned. You smiled as you pulled out your phone to text your friend that you had just seen THE Captain America. In the midst of your text, heavy panting could be heard near you. You looked up to see the same guy but now he was drenched in sweat.
“You ok? Looks like you’re about to pass out.” you asked and tried your best to fight the smile attempting to form. He nodded his hand and took a few deep breaths but was still breathing heavily.
“Why don’t you take a seat? Second place isn’t so bad.” you grinned and patted the grassy area next to you. Nodding again, the man walked over to the base of the tree and flopped down. You smiled at him as he again attempted to control his breathing.
“I’d give you some water but…” you trailed off as you shrugged.
“Need a medic?” a voice from behind you asked and you turned to see Cap there. He barely looked winded and there was only a fine sheen of sweat on him. You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the rising giggle. The man laughed sarcastically and rolled his eyes.
“I need a new set of lungs.” he mumbled. Now Cap smiled and turned to you with a wink.
“You need new lungs and a medic. Got it. I’ll get right on it.” Cap responded matter of factly. This made you burst into a fit of giggles as the man continued to even his breathing. He frowned at you and appeared offended but you keep laughing.
“Yeah get the jokes out.” he quite literally huffed. “Laugh at my pain.”
You kept laughing as Cap stepped closer into the shaded area.
“Dude you just ran like 13 miles in 30 minutes.”
“I guess I got a late start.” Cap answered with a shrug.
“Really?” the man laughed. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.”
You laughed at their banter which caused both men to look in your direction.
“Great now you’ve also got pretty girls laughing at me. Just end me.” he finished as he laid spread out on the grass. Cap shook his head as he leaned down and held his hand out.
“I’m Steve.” he introduced and you shook his hand politely. You introduced yourself before turning to the man still spread on the ground.
“And you are?” you asked as you poked his foot with yours.
“Done. I’m done. Stick a fork in me.” he groaned as he placed his arm over his head. You smiled at him as you poked his foot again. He turned to you with a grin before sitting straight again.
“Sam Wilson.” he stretched his hand to which you gladly took. He held your hand a second longer than usual and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. He bowed his head meekly and watched you two through his lashes. You stood up and stretched and Sam went to stand also but he groaned again. Steve laughed and offered his hand to Sam who graciously.
“Same time tomorrow?” Steve asked as he began to back away.
“Yeah I’d love to get embarrassed by you again.” Sam responded with an exaggerated eye roll. You laughed again and bid farewell to the men.
“She’s cute.” Steve teased as he bumped Sam’s shoulder.
“Real cute. Think she’ll like me?” Sam asked as he watched your form fade from his sight.
“With that new set of lungs,” Steve said as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “anything's possible!” |
9cb14c6f27914f758823769eb6a16c9d | ['ce8e4fa82564474787c2ca112a51b2d2'] | “And yet you’re here in full uniform today, in my kitchen.”
“Public appearances. I’m here to ask a favor of you,” he answered.
“What?”
“Be my bodyguard.”
“What?”
“You are the only one, not on my team, who is home, who I trust.”
“Jason, I’m…” she started.
“Rae, please, I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option,” he stated. “You know me, you know what I’m capable of, and you keep up.”
“And why me?” she asked as she leaned on the back of her chair.
“Because little bird, you’re the only one I trust. Whoever killed my brother and his family, that was an inside job.”
“How do you know that?” Rachel challenged.
“Because no one else knew about that trip but the royal family and the security details.” | 8660e28ffa154c80bcc62856b8647c36 | ['ce8e4fa82564474787c2ca112a51b2d2'] |
Slaves of Rome
Jason stood there, his chest heaving, the blood sticky as it dried on his sweat soaked skin as his eyes flicked up to the stadium where he saw him. The green knowing eyes stared at him as the crowd roared around him as the Emperor stared down at him. The heat was merciless, the sand was burning hot beneath his feet, and the weapon rested heavily in his hand. The Emperor lifted his hand then, his thumb neutral which had the crowd silencing as everyone held a bated breath.
The thumb lifted upwards and the crowd roared, he saw her smile beside the Egyptian and the Emperor as he looked down at his feet before he was herded towards the exit of the arena. The weapon fell into the loose sand as he walked into the halls.
His life had not always been this.
He had once been respected, a member of one of the most respected families in Jerusalem. His father a wealthy merchant who’s trade empire had spanned around Mare Nostrum, with rich trade with the Egyptians and Romans. His father’s wives, one, Talia, was an Egyptian noble, the other was a freed slave from Hispania, Selina. He had many siblings, Richard, Timothy, Cass, Duke, Damian, Athanasia, Helena, Thomas, and Bruce, and it was because of them he had come here.
Ten years ago he had played in the fields with his younger siblings, an accident had lead to the death of a Roman General before the eyes of his own son and son’s family. The Roman’s had merely witnessed his family in the field near the horses, they had not witnessed the act which had lead to the horse trampling the general. Damian’s stone had missed it’s mark, startling the stallion when it hit the beast in the rump, and the herd followed the stallion. When the Romans had come, as the eldest man in the house at the time, Jason had taken the fall. Kal-El had come for his head, instead, at the threat of a Jewish revolt upon his death, he was sentenced to the hard labor of being a galley slave. That hadn’t killed him as Kal had hoped, so five years ago Kal-El had put Jason in the arena, and thus far, Jason was undefeated and now no death outside the arena would be permitted because his family still held massive power.
Now he was a gladiator, the best in Rome.
His eyes flicked around at the other slaves here. A Jewish Gladiator, the best in Rome, undefeated.
There was a ruckus which had him looking over as an ivory pale woman broke the ranks of the chains, her fury had her grabbing a knife as she slashed a guard’s throat, spinning around to use the body as a shield as she propped herself up under the deadman’s weight when the arrows were shot, the other slaves dove out of the way as she dropped the body, rolled, snarled. Her eyes were pale, icy blue as he threw her dagger and ran. Jason stepped back, stuck his foot out, catching foot, which had her sprawling into the hard dirt of the hall. She was on her back before he anticipated as she slammed her knee into his groin, gasping for breath he doubled over as stars exploded before his eyes. She caught his chin with her finger, tilting his head back, he tried to breathe, and she smiled before her elbow slammed into his cheek which had him crashing into the ground as the world decided to waver. He watched her flee, her black braids flying behind her as the guards chased after her.
That Celt! He groaned as he rolled onto his back, pushing himself up onto the wall.
* * *
She ran, grabbing the corner as she vaulted herself upwards, slamming her knee into one guard as she blocked another hit, spinning low as she hooked his knees then slammed another elbow into the guard. She gasped when she felt a slice on her side which had her staggering back, feeling blood seep from her wound then as she glared at the guard. The guard spun his sword in a large arch, and she held up her arms when something hit her knees and slammed her head into the wall causing her world to black out.
* * *
He glared at her as she was tossed onto floor, her wound crudely dressed, and her black hair was spilling over everywhere, the odd braids tangled about her face. Jason stared at the Celt.
“Fucking Celt,” a guard muttered. “Keeps trying to escape.”
Jason looked over at the woman who lay there limply.
“That was not very smart,” he said in latin. She tilted her head back a bit, glared at him dangerously then.
“Not even the gods could contain me,” she replied in slow, halted latin.
“You’re a Celt,” he said as he shifted to lean on the bars between them.
“I am what I am,” she replied tiredly.
He nodded then slowly reached over, her hand caught his wrist as her face contorted in an animalistic wildness. “Let me see that,” he ordered.
“Back off,” she growled.
“No, get up, get over here,” he ordered. Catching her wrist he yanked her to the bars, she grunted in pain then tried to fight him until he jabbed the wound which had her moaning as she curled in on her side.
“I’ve never seen a fighter like you,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“Nowhere,” she snarled.
“Jason,” he offered his name to her, and she looked up at him with suspicious eyes. “I’m a slave, Celt,” he smiled. “Jewish.”
“People of one God,” she said.
“Yes, Children of God,” he corrected.
“Raven,” she muttered as he pulled his smuggled flask of alcohol to start cleaning her wound. It was clean, she growled lowly as she muttered in a language he had never heard before. She was beautiful, he supposed, now that she wasn’t trying to kill him.
Curly black hair, blue eyes, ivory colored skin, and a slight figure with thick hips, thighs and curvy calves. She was strong, not like a woman from his home or the Greek princess who he serviced. This woman was not muscled from training or show. Everything about this Celt was carefully depicting a wild woman who survived; he stared at the other scars and the ink marring her skin in unRoman appearance. There was history here, history of people he didn’t know, but the intricate design was carefully thought out, beautifully mapped, and intriguing. She was unlike any Celt he had seen in the arena; most of them being brightly colored with sunny, silver, or bloody red hair.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because no one should suffer of cruelty,” he said.
“I am cruel,” she smiled weakly.
He said nothing. |
93f9ab56083343b5986575d5d53e9640 | ['ce967c6fbbdb4d92847388bd736bbc0d'] | He gulped and remembered Lydia when she was in the hospital, but she got better... he stared a little longer and began to approach the tie-up hospital gowned back turned to him. He hovered a hand over the girl’s shoulder and was about to wake her when his mind wandered to his mother in the hospital...it was a room very similar to this one... He tugged down his shirt and cleared his throat. The girl stirred and he shook her shoulder a little.
“Hey...” He cooed and she rolled over. Her mouth had drips of black coming from it and there was a heftily wrapped bandage on her shoulder that now stuck out of the gown.
“Who- who are-” she coughed and blinked a few times.
“I’m a friend. Now...” He whispered and looked the girl deep in the eyes. She was tired and her eyes seemed very dark, “I need you to tell me- What did you see?” Stiles became stern.
“I don’t know I already told the cops...I don’t know” She croaked and immediately her eyes became glassy and scared.
“Was it an animal? A bear? A wolf maybe?” He urged.
“No. I don’t know. Why are you--”
“Was it a human with red eyes?”
The girl’s eyes widened and the heart monitor beeped more rapidly. Stiles glanced at it and then back down at the girl. He touched her wrist and squeezed a little.
“What were you doing in the woods that late?”
“I was camping. They said the camp grounds were safe-- we just had to put food away.”
“Was there anyone with you?”
“My younger sister. She’s getting coffee...” The girl smiled and then cringed in pain, “Addicted to caffeine.”
He stroked her forearm a little and the girl’s eyes searched him for meanness. Finding none she accepted the sympathies and nodded shortly. Her eyes drooped and Stiles wiped away some of the black ooze with a corner of her blanket.
“I’m sorry. So sorry.”
*
Stiles burst through the door and Derek sat unalarmed on the couch watching Friends. Stiles swiped the remote off the arm of the couch before Derek even noticed and flipped to the news.
“What is this?!” Stiles pointed at the TV with the remote and dropped it into Derek’s lap.
He flinched a little and then placed it back on the arm of the couch. Stiles paced in front of him and was only half listening to what his father on screen was telling a reporter.
“Why would someone be rounding up werewolves and then just offing them like that?” Stiles put his hands on his hips and Derek thought he’d finally stopped pacing. Derek remained silent and sat forward. “I mean, who does that?”
“I clearly don’t know.”
“But!” Stiles huffed and began circling again, “Have you ever seen anything like that? I mean hunters usually don’t get to hand feed werewolves like that?”
“Let’s just stay out of it.” Derek mumbled and then violently flicked to the next channel.
“Eh I know,” Stiles rubbed through his hair, “I’d love it if I could not die this summer...But too late!”
“Scott,” Derek sighed and smiled and closed his eyes.
“No. See Derek funny story, if they’re in our hospital and our police are dealing with it, it’s our problem. And- And—”
“No it’s not..” Derek got up by pushing off his knees and brush past Stiles to get to the kitchen.
“Hey! You owe me big time!” Derek rolled his eyes. Derek didn’t need his past mistakes brought up again...
He sauntered to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. He glared at Stiles as he took several big gulps. Stiles gave a slightly annoyed smiled as if he could win him over with if he willed it hard enough.
The water bottle crinkled as Derek finished the last gulps and wiped his mouth,“Stiles I’m not helping.”
Stiles pouted and started pacing up and down again, “Please? We need to figure this out...My dad can’t keep doing this.”
Derek cringed and his shoulders slumped. Stiles felt guilty and had forgiven Derek for what had happened a few years ago, but if he really thought about he would just become enraged.
“Just get Allison.”
“No Derek! And I have…He has to do this. It’s his job. He can’t just go down to the station and say ‘hey my son’s friend and friend’s fiancee got this covered. Don’t worry guys’ I don’t want him meddling in this stuff! He always ends up getting hurt. And I, I can’t. We have to figure this out….” Stiles tugged at his hair and stopped all the pacing, “And there was a girl.”
Derek’s ear perked and he tried hard not to look at Stiles. When he did his demeanor has shrunk even more so to the point that his hoodie was almost falling off of his slouched shoulders.
“She was younger than me. I saw her in the hospital…” Derek felt a strong wave of sadness come off of Stiles, “It didn’t take, Derek. There are people out there dying slow painful deaths. Death, Derek. ”
Derek huffed and couldn’t find a way out.
*
Derek had brought Mexican food home and was immediately greeted by Isaac.
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“You hate Mexican food.”
“I still have to feed you despite my food preferences.”
“Ok?” Isaac starts happily digging through food.
“So the deaths in the sequoias, Stiles thinks--”
“I knew it. First starting with ‘the deaths in the sequoias’ and then ‘Stiles thinks’...What are you getting into?”
Derek sighed and looked to the ceiling, “We need to stop this before there’s werewolves everywhere.”
“How do you know that there all werewolves, my sweet sweet nephew?” Peter came down the spiral staircase and stroked his goatee.
“The two attacks that have happened were around the full moon.”
“When new werewolves are going nuts...”
“It’s a hunter getting target practice. Call the Argents. They can have a lunch date.” | 5a3622eee6974f7c9ca3bbcd661e59f9 | ['ce967c6fbbdb4d92847388bd736bbc0d'] |
1. Chapter 1
There was a swarm of police officers and press in front of the hospital after news of several bodies being found in the sequoias. Stiles and Scott had, with luck wiggled their way in through the crowd. They slinked through the hospital to the reception desk where Mrs. McCall had a phone held up to her ear.
“Good. You’re here.” She hung up and pulled them aside. She spoke in hushed tones and kept tucking hair behind her ear. “The coroner found a different mix of mistletoe, a flower I’ve never heard of, and silver in their systems. There not enough of any of those to kill a human.”
“So we have a new psychotic hunter in town? Great...” Stiles grimaced.
“Has there been anyone sick, like Gerard was? With the black stuff.”
Melissa nodded and then frowned, “Rumors have gone around at least every hospital in the area have seen a case of it.”
Stiles and Scott exchanged looks, “We need to find my dad...”
“And Deaton.” Scott added.
Stiles nodded, “The man better not be cryptic today.”
Melissa answered the phone, grabbed a chart and was fumbling around the desk for something.
“Thanks Mom.” Scott kissed his mom’s cheek and they boys began to walk away.
“I take it dinner’s off tonight?” She called back to Scott and Stiles.
“Yeah! Sorry.”
“Sorry Mrs. McCall pending stuff here.”
She nodded and held up a hand as if ‘say no more’ and then was out of sight down the hall. Stiles peeled off to his jeep and Scott rode off on his motorcycle. Deaton seemed more open talking to Scott and Scott alone. It offended Stiles slightly... Stiles backed out of the driveway, picked up some burgers, and went down to the station, which was almost as crazy as the hospital.
*
“Hey,” Lydia’s voice chirped.
“Lydia!?” Stiles called but sighed as he realized it was her voicemail.
“It’s me, who else would it be. Leave a message. Ta-ta for now!”
If he could use anyone right now it’d be Lydia. It was what? Only an 8 hour difference in London? It could only be 3 am? He waited patiently for it to go through the options and then heard the average annoying voicemail beep. You’d think if Lydia cared enough to change the waiting ringtone to a fancy pop song she’s figure out a way to make the beep different.
“Lydia. It’s Stiles. We have a crisis. I need to talk to you ASAP. It’s about silver and werewolfie business. Well humans too. Call me back!”
He tapped his phone screen and chucked it on his bed, where it then bounced off and hit a wall.
“FU—“
*
Mr. Argent marked another point on a map of northern California with a red pin. Allison tapped her chin and Scott hovered around.
“These people are coming from all over the place. Out of state even.” Allison walked over to the desk and looked at all the copies of personal info Mrs. McCall had managed to make for them.
“Why can’t werewolves check ID’s?” Chris gave a hard look at Scott for a moment, but then both men laughed.
“Well I think we need to get some back up before we go that hour north and check out the camp sites. I don’t want to be taken by surprise by a large untamed pack of werewolves.”
Everyone was silent and Chris cringed to himself. “No offense Scott.”
“Oh!” Scott looked back at him. “None taken, sir.”
“Ok,” Allison held her hands in front of her and then gripped the back of her neck, “We need to take a break. We got this mapped out and that was a lot- a lot for today.”
Mr. Argent nodded and excused the two, who went to Allison’s room. She shut the door and Scott automatically began to rub her shoulders.
“Are we going to tell him?” He whispered in her ear.
“With everything that’s going on I don’t think this is the best time to announce an engagement.” She napped and then started muttered apologies as she walked to her bed.
“No it’s…fine.” Scott assured and then sat down on the bed next to her.
She placed a loving hand on his knee, “I don’t think it’ll be that much of a surprise anyways.” Allison smiled.
“I know, but still.” Scott beamed.
*
Stiles fumbled for his phone and turned down the volume on this laptop before answering. He was researching levels of silver that could kill a human being and taking breaks by starting on one of his online college courses. He was failing miserably at both and felt the need to get out.
“What’s up brocidan of the brocean?” Stiles answered thankfully.
“My mom says there’s a patient at the hospital who is vomiting black blood and has bite marks.” He said in hushed tones.
“Have you talked to them?”
“No, I can’t I have to work and I’m going to talk more to Deaton to see what we should do. What did your dad say?”
“I haven’t exactly seen him for the last few days...Not in person anyways…” They day he went down to the station was closest he got. It was more or less just a hand off of the burgers in his hand, “But I might talk to Derek.”
Stiles waited as Scott huffed and grumbled on the other end. “Derek?”
“Yeah, you bet your ass he’s going to help us!”
“Why? I trust him…He’s— just not the most helpful, man.”
“I know, but this means we get Peter and Isaac.”
“Stiles, if things start to go bad--”
“Things already have gone bad!”
“And Peter?”
“Auh! Ok you get Isaac!”
“Alright...Just go down to the hospital.”
*
Stiles quietly shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment taking in the sight before him. There were machines hooked up everywhere, the shades were drawn and a girl was sleeping on the bed. |
dfd6010b8f964e5889e63991ddcea5fb | ['cec09b5b355e44b39ad7cbaf4a54a888'] | Her forehead rested against the exposed skin of his neck, and she was burning up. Daryl pressed his lips together, picking up the pace while trying not to jostle the feverish Beth. Tendrils of hair tickled his jaw. She was okay, she had to be okay. This was Beth. This was his Beth, the fighter. There was no way in any hell that she was going to return only to leave him again, he wouldn’t let her.
“It’s gonna be fine.” She said softly.
“ ‘Course it will.” He ground his teeth, finally reaching the perimeter of camp.
There were still some members of the group still up, going over maps of the area by firelight.
“Is that Daryl? What is he carrying – Oh God!”
They heard Maggie before they could spot her as she came flying across camp. The noise of her cries probably attracting walkers for miles, but no one seemed the least bit concerned as the two sisters were reunited.
“Is she alive?” Maggie brushed back a wisp of Beth’s hair, feeling the heat of her skin. She let out a shaky laugh, covering her mouth with her other hand.
“Of course I’m alive. We Greene’s don’t go without putting up a fight.” Beth grinned, tumbling from Daryl’s arms into her sister’s.
They wept with each other, and Daryl felt the compulsion to turn away. It was a private moment celebrating unlikely circumstances.
Maggie held her out at arm’s length, checking her over.
“Bites, scratches?” Maggie’s grin diminished until Beth shook her head.
“No bites, no scratches.” Beth confirmed.
The rest of the group stopped what they were doing, some sitting up drowsily from sleeping bags and emerging from tents to inspect the commotion only to find the two Greene’s.
“Oh, Beth.” Maggie whispered, holding her sister once again. Tears dripped off her cheeks into Beth’s hair. “But how did you find us?”
Beth shot a look at Daryl, the corner of her lips tugging up.
“Daryl. After I escaped, I ran into the woods and got tangled in some left over trap. I recognized it as how he taught me to set them up. So I followed them for about two days and that’s when I saw the fire. I had nothing to lose coming closer, but I had this nagging feeling it was you guys. I was right.”
Daryl coughed, scratching the back of his head as the group gave him looks of admiration. He knew they meant well, but he was no hero and that’s how they saw him. He resisted the urge to bolt, to escape the uncomfortable feeling squirming in his gut.
“Good to know you’d been paying attention and my efforts weren’t for nothin’.” He grumbled, adjusting the strap of the crossbow.
“Well, we’re glad you’re safe now, Beth. I have some questions for you, but we can cover those in the morning.” Rick smiled, it reached his eyes as it so rarely did now.
Carl had joined the rest of them with bleary eyes and Judith on his hip. Beth eagerly took her into her arms, cooing over how the girl had grown. She kissed her cheeks, clutching her tight. Judith played with Beth’s ponytail, giggling, and Beth gave a watery laugh. The thought crossed her mind that if the baby could make it, then there was a chance they could do this, they could survive. The rest of everyone else took their turn in welcoming her back into the family. They hadn’t noticed at first, the difference Beth had made. She didn’t hunt or stand watch, but the silence around the campfire without her sweet, soft voice singing whatever came to mind had become overbearing. She had carried enough hope for the rest of them.
Daryl stood back, watching. The sound of her laugh replenished the faded memory in his head. He let out a breath and nearly jumped when he found Maggie next to him.
“I want to thank you properly, Dixon, for taking care of Beth. I know she’s just a kid, but she wasn’t your responsibility. She’s back and safe now because of you. I can’t ever repay you for that.” She smiled softly at him, unconsciously rubbing her belly that had only begun to show.
“It’s nothin’. She ain’t a kid anymore. She held her own well enough.” Daryl shrugged.
He stumbled backward with the force of her embrace, and she refused to let go until he patted her back. Maggie finally pulled away, satisfied, with a grin so big it hurt.
“You two are so stubborn.” He muttered, fixing his poncho.
“It’s a Greene thing.” Maggie bumped his shoulder affectionately before rejoining Beth.
Daryl wasn’t a touchy-feely person, not by a longshot, but Maggie’s hug took him by surprise in he appreciated it much more than he let on.
“Daryl?”
His head snapped up as she called his name.
“Comin’?” Beth waved him over.
He complied, muttering something about those Greene girls. He fell into step as Maggie led them to the makeshift kitchen where she handed Beth a can of peaches.
“I know how you used to love the ones we would steal from that orchid the next farm over.” Maggie said, sitting next to Beth near the fire.
“That seems like forever ago.” Beth frowned slightly, staring into the glowing embers as the last of the memory drifted from her mind. | 5aa141019eb5414888083915ec4cb3c8 | ['cec09b5b355e44b39ad7cbaf4a54a888'] | Grape Jelly
Beth wiped her brow. They had been tromping around in the woods all day, scouting the area and hunting. The hunting had been unsuccessful, a wandering walker in the woods had scared away the scarce live food supply. They weren’t terribly upset, there was still plenty back at the funeral home for now. It had been four days since they first found the place. The shelter had been like a godsend, and they were in no hurry to leave the haven.
Beth limped up the porch after Daryl, her ankle aching. He pushed open the front door slowly, crossbow at the ready. He sniffed at the air for any hint of decay, eyes closed before nodding and ushering Beth in.
“If you keep clompin’ around like that, you’re gonna attract every walker in the area.” Daryl boarded up the door after them.
“Sorry.” She muttered, heading to the kitchen.
Beth tried to hide how much each step hurt. The last thing she wanted was to become a burden, a liability. She liked being useful, having a task to do. It kept her mind occupied, which was good. It hurt too much to think of what could have happened to the others. She had to believe they were okay, they were surviving like she and Daryl were. If she didn’t believe, then who would?
Daryl stepped into the kitchen, dropping his crossbow on the table. She masked her annoyance, it was just a habit from back in the day when weapons on tables like that mattered.
“You okay? Your ankle, I mean.” He cleared his throat.
“It’s fine.” Beth said, bustling around with meaningless tasks to keep her hands moving.
He sighed, pulling out the nearest chair and leading Beth to it against her protests.
“Daryl, I said it’s fine. There’s work to do.” She stood from the chair.
“I got it. There ain’t that much to do anyway. Besides, you need rest for that to heal. It’ll only slow us down.” He pushed her back down gently, and she let him. “Here, eat this.”
Daryl handed her a jar of grape jelly. She felt her lips curve up at the gesture.
“Spoon?” Beth asked, watching as he boarded up the rest of the windows as the sun began to set.
“Don’t need one.” He replied.
Something about the idea of eating grape jelly for dinner with no spoon struck her as hilarious. Her giggles came in waves until tears ran from her eyes. Daryl turned from the window to stare at her with a bemused expression. Beth clutched her stomach with one hand, the jar in the other. She fought to catch her breath as the giggles subsided.
“What’s so damn funny?” He scowled.
“I don’t – I don’t know. It’s just grape jelly with no spoon.” She managed between another fit of laughter.
Daryl crossed his arms, fighting a smile at the girl. Beth sighed, swiping her sleeve over her cheeks.
“Here.” She said, kicking the other chair out from under the table with her good leg.
Daryl grabbed the jar of pig’s feet and took her invitation at the table. He cracked open the jar, and they ate in silence.
“When’d you find you liked those?” Beth said, licking her fingers.
“It was the only thing in the cupboard growing up.” He shrugged.
“When I was little, Maggie would always make peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Grape was always her favorite. I swear she had more jelly on there than the bread was thick.” She added, the atmosphere shifting from the easy playfulness moments earlier. “Daryl?”
“Hmm?” He swallowed what he was chewing.
“There had to be more than us that escaped the prison.”
“Just because they’re out there wanderin’ around don’t mean they’re alive.” Daryl tensed, hastily screwing the lid on the jar.
“How can you say that? We can’t be the only ones that are still alive, there have to be others out there.” Beth’s voice rose.
“Even if they are out there and maybe, just maybe they’re alive, it won’t stay that way.” He slammed the jar on the table, the juice sloshing around inside.
He seemed to instantly regret his words, rubbing his forehead with unnecessary force. The jelly that seemed like a good idea not so long ago, churned uncomfortably in her stomach. Beth used the table for support as she stood.
“Daryl?” Her voice was quiet.
“What?” He snapped, glaring up at her.
“It’s not your fault.” She offered him a small smile.
Daryl’s expression softened slightly. The guilt from his survival was plaguing him endlessly, and somehow, she could see right through him.
“Well, I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” She bent down and kissed his cheek, the beginnings of a beard scratching her lips.
She didn’t have to look at him to see his surprise. Beth hobbled down the hall to her makeshift bed, a hand at her mouth in shock of what she just did.
“Beth?” Daryl called.
She paused.
“Night.” |
9c692f6afba84a30a9010f8794462a95 | ['cec802207f2a4609b322147405e32e55'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i'm back w/ more yoonseok :3c this time around i wanted to try yoongi pining for hoseok, and more introspection overall. mostly tho, i thought abt college au jimin drawing dicks on hobi's face and i couldn't help myself lol
>
> also, the title is pretentious (French word for makeup) only bc i couldn't think of anything else.. i'm sorry
>
> enjoy!!
“PARK JIMIN.”
Hoseok slams the bathroom door open, fists clenched and breathing heavy.
“PARK JIMIN, YOU’RE A DEAD MAN.”
The orange-haired sophomore is bent in half with laughter on the couch, almost crying. He keeps attempting to say something, but ends up hiccuping more laughter whenever he takes a breath.
“This— this is revenge,” Jimin finally gasps. “For setting Expensive Girl as my ringtone.”
“I was supporting our dear friend Namjoon in his efforts to become a musician!” Hoseok wails. He drops to his knees, fists held high in despair.
“Because of you, everyone in Art History thinks I’m a pervert!”
“Have you seen your own baby face? No one thinks you’re a pervert but me!” Hoseok mourns. “Are we not soul brothers, Jimin? How could you do this? I have class in an hour!”
Taehyung emerges from his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yah, it’s 8am, why are you jerks so loud?” He takes his hands from his eyes, then he takes in the scene. Hoseok is kneeling on the floor, his face creased with anguish. His face is also adorned with a giant sharpie dick on his cheek, complete with hairy balls and a few drops of ejaculate. A grin splits across Taehyung’s face as he starts shaking with silent laughter.
“It’s too fucking early for this,” Taehyung wheezes as he crumples onto the couch next to Jimin. “Jiminnie, you have to warn me the night before,” Taehyung wipes a tear from his eye. “I wasn’t prepared to cry this morning.”
“I wasn’t either,” Hoseok says bitterly, dragging his hands down his dickified face.
\--
Hoseok spends 15 minutes desperately scrubbing his face in the bathroom (a bust), then another 15 minutes desperately knocking on every door in the complex (so far, also a bust). Not one of his peers had rubbing alcohol or concealer because, really, why would they? One frat guy (while laughing his ass off) offered Hoseok some cheap vodka, but Hoseok turned him down. He knows he’d more likely down the bottle in sorrow than use it on his face, and it’s only a Wednesday morning.
He reaches the end of the hall, and he throws himself against the last door as a substitute for knocking.
“Yoongi-hyung!” he cries, slapping his hands on the wood like a frustrated toddler. “Wake up, I have a 9am, and I need help!”
Min Yoongi opens the door, looking like Satan, the grim reaper, and Hoseok’s evil (yes, evil) Calculus professor all in one. Hoseok quickly stumbles away, scared by the aura pouring from his usually grumpy (but never _ murderous _ ) lab partner.
“What the fuck do you want?” Yoongi glares, dark circles deep and patience shallow.
“Uh,” Hoseok says in a small voice. He points at the huge dick on his face. “Does it need explaining?”
Yoongi looks at him for a while, then pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He gestures for Hoseok to come in. “You’re doing my Bio homework for a month.”
Hoseok happily follows Yoongi to his room and jumps on his bed, crying endless praises until Yoongi smacks him.
“You woke me up two hours early. At least be quiet,” Yoongi grumbles, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes.
“Sorry, sorry, I love you!” Hoseok smiles widely and Yoongi can’t hate him for just that second. “Y’know, hyung, I didn’t know you were so scary in the morning. I mean, you’re crabby in lab, but I thought you were going to kill me just now,” Hoseok says, eyes wide and honest.
Yoongi snorts. “I definitely considered it.”
Hoseok looks thoroughly offended. “You would never!”
“Hey, I’m saving your ass right now, remember? I’m only nicer in lab because I’ve had 4 cups of coffee by then.” Yoongi looks fondly at his Keurig before he takes out a wipe and starts scrubbing at Hoseok’s cheek.
“Ow, shit, hyung! Gentler please, I already rubbed my skin raw this morning,” Hoseok pouts. Yoongi rolls his eyes, but complies. Satisfied with the softer touch, Hoseok’s eyes wander as he takes in the room. Yoongi lives in the same apartment layout as him: three individual bedrooms that share a living area and bathroom. Yoongi’s room somehow resembles his personality: minimalist but cluttered, and badly lit. There are at least ten paper coffee cups piled on his desk. Hoseok grins.
“Sorry it’s not clean,” Yoongi says, taking note of Hoseok’s inspection. “But not really, since you didn’t exactly call beforehand.”
“I looove you,” Hoseok sings, throwing his arms above his head in a heart, nearly smacking Yoongi in the process. “And I like your room. It’s similar to you! But seriously, drink something other than coffee.”
“No,” Yoongi says simply, then stops rubbing. He looks at the wipe, now stained black, and tosses it.
“Anyways, why do you have alcohol wipes? No one else on the hall did,” Hoseok says, curious.
“They're for taking off the makeup I wear sometimes,” Yoongi shrugs. The faint form of a penis still shows on Hoseok’s cheek, so Yoongi reaches into his desk drawer for foundation. He shakes the bottle a little and frowns. “It’s probably too light for you, but it’ll have to do.”
Hoseok closes his eyes as Yoongi dots the foundation across his face and starts blending. “Hmm, this feels pretty nice. You’re like a makeup artist. Do you do modeling at Big Hit on the side or something? Is that what the makeup’s for?” | 016600c595264bbdb97c7b442218d4a2 | ['cec802207f2a4609b322147405e32e55'] | To be fair, the fourth is a little awkward. But that’s not unprecedented.
“Hoseokie,” Namjoon grins as he plods into the kitchen, all bedhead and cute dimples. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok smiles, finishing off the last of his soup. Jungkook is still picking over what’s left of the other dishes, half eating, half reading a webtoon, and wholly not paying attention to Hoseok or Namjoon.
“Whoa, what’s all this? No wonder the dorm smells so good. Jin-hyung made you breakfast?” Namjoon asks, rubbing his hands together.
“He did, but he said you’re not allowed to have any,” Hoseok says, just a little smug as he sips another spoonful.
“Well, hyung’s in the shower. He doesn’t need to know,” Namjoon says, grabbing a spoon and making a dive for Hoseok’s soup. The birthday boy parries with his own utensil, then he grabs the bowl and promptly dumps the rest in his mouth. He stares at Namjoon defiantly, cheeks bulging to hold the warm broth as he starts swallowing it down.
But then Namjoon pulls Hoseok in with a hand at the back of his neck, slotting their mouths together. His lips are still chapped and warm from sleep. Hoseok’s mouth parts in surprise, rewarding Namjoon with a mouthful of the coveted soup. However, Hoseok also starts _laughing_ , and ends up spraying the rest all over Namjoon, the floor, and himself. Jungkook startles and looks up in bewilderment at the scene, Hoseok snorting and coughing, and Namjoon sullenly swallowing the soup in his mouth before scowling at the mess on his shirt.
“Hyung, what the fuck,” Jungkook says, amused. Namjoon looks back at him with a defeated look, and Jungkook laughs. “Milk in the fridge is still good if you want cereal.”
Namjoon sighs as he peels off his soup-and-spit-soaked shirt. “Thanks.”
Hoseok is still half hacking up a lung, half laughing.
The fifth is his favorite, if only because it spoils him.
“Hyung, what happened?” Jimin asks, running into Hoseok in the bathroom. Hoseok is wiping himself down so he doesn’t smell like miyeokguk for the rest of the day.
“Namjoon happened,” Hoseok answers, tossing the washcloth into the sink, and Jimin nods sagely.
“I understand.”
“I think we all understand,” Hoseok grins as he pulls on a clean shirt. “But hey, do you know what day it is? Don’t you have something to say to me?” he bats his lashes.
Jimin looks at him for a moment, then Hoseok sees the lightbulb go on. Soon enough the younger has Hoseok entwined in a warm hug (and wrapped around his finger).
“Happy birthday, my favorite hyung,” Jimin smiles, petting Hoseok’s hair.
“February 18th is a blessing and a curse! It's the only day Park Jimin shows me any affection,” Hoseok pretends to cry and gets his hair pulled in return.
“I’m plenty nice to this handsy hyung,” Jimin says, indignant, pinching at Hoseok’s ear.
“Why don’t you love me like Jungkook,” Hoseok mock-whines and Jimin laughs before rubbing his earlobe fondly.
“Call me back when you’re as cute as Jungkookie,” Jimin says, but he leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to Hoseok’s lips.
“Another,” Hoseok says, puckering again after Jimin pulls away. Jimin gives him a look, but complies, kissing Hoseok again. “Another,” Hoseok says again, snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist to keep him closer.
“This hyung is getting greedy,” Jimin smiles against Hoseok’s lips as he kisses him again.
“This is for all the love you’ve withheld from me while you were chasing our maknae,” Hoseok pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. Jimin kisses it, surprising Hoseok when his teeth catch on the sensitive skin.
“Aw, hyung, you know I love you best,” Jimin says, and his smile is sweet, but devilish. Hoseok grins. He loves this side of Jimin.
“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips before leaning in for another kiss, “I know.”
The sixth fucks him up a little. Or a lot.
By the time Jimin’s done with him and ducks out to eat breakfast, Hoseok is disheveled and a little heated. But he feels thoroughly spoiled and satisfied, so he washes his face with cold water, shakes it out, and gets dressed without incident. When Seokjin calls out a ten minute warning for the van’s arrival, Hoseok is already stretched out on the couch, watching the news on low volume.
Seokjin is slipping a water bottle into his bag, ticking boxes off his mental list when “Oh _shit,_ ” he swears, and Hoseok looks up, startled.
“Hyung?”
“I forgot to wake up Yoongi,” Seokjin says, wringing his hands. “And I still need to help Joon-ah find his slacks before we go. Hoseok, I hate to ask on your birthday, but—”
“I can deal with the devil any day,” Hoseok grins as he hops up. “I was bored anyways. Don’t worry, hyung. I’ve got it.”
He doesn’t though. Yoongi is sound asleep, curled up under a pile of blankets, and he looks so peaceful and soft. Yoongi barely sleeps at home, always napping on any couch, chair, or floorspace he can find in a studio or broadcast station. And right now he’s warm and comfy in bed, hair splayed out across his pillow. Hoseok absolutely does not want to wake him.
He also cares about his limbs, and losing them is an occupational hazard when tasked with dragging Yoongi out of bed.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok calls gently, running his hand through Yoongi’s hair. The sleeping man moans under the touch, and rolls over to his side, still dead to the world. “Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok tries again, a little louder as he pulls away one of the blankets, but it just gets grabbed back into a vice-like grip. Hoseok sighs, and decides twenty-two is an alright age to die.
He flicks on the light, yanks off the covers, and jumps up on the bed to straddle his (now groaning) groupmate. |
668a2ea22f1e44ffb17fd81b58019d02 | ['ced3d4f9ca474aa895627f681d2194ad'] | “And what's your favorite color?”
“Red.”
“If you were a dragon, what element would you be?”
Jeongguk paused to consider, eyes lighting up with a childish spark. “Fire, definitely fire. I'd be such a lit dragon. I'd live in an underground cave partially filled with lava from the mantle and I'd be able to breathe lightning instead of fire and I could fly way, way up into the atmosphere without getting cold.” Jeongguk’s grin turned warm and excited. “I'd have golden scales, and like warm yellow eyes. Like … dandelions, or butterscotch. And I'd shine when the sun hit me. And when I flew at night, people would think I was some sort of shooting star.”
Jimin’s cheeks hurt from how widely he was smiling.
“You like dragons, then?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk nodded. “My brother used to read me books about dragons as bedtime stories.”
Jimin clutched his chest through his shirt, acting like someone had punched him.
“That's so cute, oh my God,” he whined, loud enough for Jeongguk to hear him.
Jeongguk had probably wanted to look menacing, but when he furrowed his eyebrows he ended up puffing his cheeks and pouting his lips. Jimin cooed, and reached across the table to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk playfully batted his hands away.
Jeongguk opened his mouth, to say what Jimin didn't know, but he was interrupted by Felicity sliding two plates, one heaped with hash browns and the other empty, and Jimin’s strawberry milkshake onto the table with an “Enjoy” and another smile.
Jimin pulled the cold glass into his hands, immediately grabbing a spoon and scooping up the whipped cream. Now that it was in front of him, he did feel pretty hungry, and the sweet milkshake seemed to hit the spot.
He didn't really know what to say, after the initial silence of appreciation for the food had petered out, and they were left with one of slight awkwardness, before Jimin put his foot down. (Literally. It made an awkwardly loud thumping noise.) They’re not awkward. He’s not going to be _awkward_.
“What’s your favorite thing to do? Like, if you had the whole world to yourself, what would you do with it?”
Jeongguk sighed, looking wistful for a moment before clearing his throat and clearing his eyes. “Dance, probably,” he admitted. “I love to dance.”
“Oh my God,” Jimin breathed, feeling a smile overtake his face.
They talked and they talked, and Jimin had finished his milkshake a long time ago but their conversation flowed, and when Jeongguk finally suggested they stop keeping Felicity occupied they continued outside.
When he noticed Jimin starting to shiver, Jeongguk offered his jacket, and Jimin was tired and cold and he couldn’t muster up the energy to say no.
Jimin didn’t want to go back inside, not yet, so he took a seat on the steps of his apartment building. The concrete was cold underneath them, but Jeongguk sat next to him without complaining.
He knew the question was hanging in the air, hanging off of Jeongguk’s lips, being chewed between his teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he didn’t look at Jeongguk in an attempt to keep his voice even. Because Jeongguk’s gaze makes him feel warm and he doesn’t want warmth right now, he doesn’t deserve it, not when Taehyung used to be his warmth.
“What for?”
“I just. I feel like I’m not treating you as I should be. You’re an amazing friend, you know that? And you shouldn’t have to take care of me, I’m your hyung, and all I do is cry but I can’t help it and sometimes I feel like we shouldn’t be friends at all because I feel like I’m replacing Taehyung and you don’t deserve that, you deserve a friend who is good to you, and all I do is take and take and I can’t even breathe inside that apartment, and I feel like I’m burdening you every single time I break down but I don’t know what I’d do, I don’t know what to do. I look up to the sky and I know Taehyung can see me but I don’t know if he’s smiling or frowning down at me for making the choices I’m making and I just want to see him again.”
All of a sudden Jimin’s vision was blurred and there were warm hands around his and his whole body was shaking.
“Jimin?” Jeongguk’s voice was hesitant, and his hand was the same as it reached to Jimin’s cheek and brushed tears off of his cheeks and hair out of his eyes. “Don’t think of anything, don’t say anything. Just look at me?”
Jimin looked at him.
“Please know that what I say is the truth, okay?” A nod. “You’re not a burden. You aren’t. You never have been, you never will be. You are human, and humans have emotions. Sometimes they suck. But it’s okay. Everything sucks sometimes. And don’t worry if you think you’re not treating me well. I’ll tell you if I ever need a break, and I hope you’ll understand that it’s not because you are a burden but because I don’t feel that I can be what you need.
“I like taking care of you,” he said, so honestly, never looking from Jimin’s eyes. “I like seeing you smile, and even if I just cause it once it feels like a win. You are good to me, in ways you might not even notice. You are good, in ways you don’t notice. Don’t sell yourself short, yeah? | bf65796bc8474bba80002607325d0047 | ['ced3d4f9ca474aa895627f681d2194ad'] | In the low light of the room, all Jimin could really focus on were Taehyung’s eyes, close enough to fall into, and his hands, warm and safe, and his voice, filling up everything around and inside Jimin with that familiar warm-honey feeling.
“‘Cause you’re my medicine,” they sang together, and then Taehyung stopped and he looked at Jimin like there was nothing else that could ever compare. “Jiminie?”
“Yeah?” Jimin’s heart was beating in his lungs. He couldn’t help but feel _something_ in anticipation.
“Can I kiss you?”
Jimin’s heart thudded to a stop, lungs constricting. “Yeah.” He swallowed, then looked at Taehyung. “Yeah, you can.”
And so he did.
Achingly slow, Taehyung moved his right hand from its perch on Jimin’s hip to cup his jaw ever so delicately. Jimin leaned into the touch, and then he leaned forward as Taehyung leaned down and just like that. They were kissing.
Jimin swore he’d stopped thinking, stopped seeing, stopped everything but feeling because all of a sudden there were flowers blooming in his heart, spreading through his veins and growing out of his fingertips. Taehyung’s lips were soft against his, and warm, and he kissed just like he did everything. Carefully and passionately. Beautifully.
Jimin’s head filled with a pleasant buzz, cancelling out everything that wasn’t Taehyung, everything that wasn’t right now. He had longed to be this close to Taehyung for how long? And now it was happening, and it hadn’t really felt like heaven until now.
Jimin pulled away first, head spinning and eyes blurry and heart fit to burst. Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open a few seconds later, and the smile that spread across his face mirrored the flowers growing inside of Jimin, curling around them both.
“Closer,” Jimin whispered, shouted.
Taehyung tugged him in a bit more, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.
“Closer,” he said, again, and Taehyung wound his hand from Jimin’s waist to his back. They were chest to chest. Jimin could feel Taehyung’s heart beating.
“Closer.” And Taehyung looked a little confused. Jimin laughed lightly, quietly, breathing out a smile, before taking one step back and gripping at the hem of his sweatshirt. He slowly pulled it over his head and laid it neatly over the arm of their sofa.
Taehyung kissed him again, hands warm against the bare skin of Jimin’s back, and Jimin kissed him back, heart alight in the darkness of the room. All he could feel, all he could see or hear or taste was Taehyung.
“I love you,” Jimin says, pulling away just enough so that their lips brushed as he spoke. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“God, Jiminie,” Taehyung breathed. “You’re the most beautiful person I have ever met. I love you, more than anything. You never fail to steal the air in my chest, you know that?”
Taehyung pulled away this time, and he kissed Jimin’s cheeks and then his nose and his forehead and his eyelids and his chin and down his neck and across his chest. His hands never moved, always bracing and embracing Jimin, encasing him in safety. He murmured praises into Jimin’s skin, painting him with the most beautiful colors.
“Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at Jimin, eyes reflecting nothing but the love Jimin himself could feel thrumming through his body.
“Yes.” Because through anything, through anything, Taehyung would always have Jimin’s heart in his hands. There was no one he’d trust more.
Despite the cold of the night and the chill of the apartment Jimin had never felt warmer than in the arms of his best friend.
They collapsed underneath the sheets, Taehyung’s skin soft against his own. Jimin opened his eyes and found Taehyung already looking at him, eyes heavy.
“Taehyung,” he started, having a feeling of what was to come, but Taehyung hushed him gently.
“Jiminie.” Taehyung’s delicate fingers traced his forehead, down the slope of his nose, played with his bottom lip and felt the skin of his cheeks. There was a tear running down his face. Jimin reached out to wipe it away, and Taehyung grabbed onto his hand like it was his only hope. “I saw you.”
Jimin made a noise of question.
“From up here. I was watching over you. I heard everything you said to me, and I got the book.”
That made Jimin look up. “You got the book? Did you like the ending?” he asked, suddenly shy. “Sorry if it wasn’t good enough, I tried my best to do it how I thought you would, but—”
“I loved it,” Taehyung whispered, tears making their way onto the pillow now. “I loved it, I loved it. You did so well, Jiminie. God, I wish I had been there.”
“Tae,” Jimin said, pained. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Taehyung’s face crumpled. “I’m so, so sorry Jimin. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I said I’d be there and I wasn’t, I’m sorry for promising a future that I couldn’t give you. Missed you like hell up here, Jiminie, but I knew I’d see you again. You were made for heaven. But I just left you completely in the dark, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for that. You’ve always deserved light.”
“Please, Taehyung,” Jimin begged softly. “You are my light. Now that you’re here, you’re back, I have you back, I just. Don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t.”
“Then I forgive you. And you should forgive yourself.” Jimin reached forward and flicked Taehyung on the forehead.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Jimin fell asleep first, content to again be where he belonged. Taehyung stayed awake just a little bit longer, humming relaxedly in the way Jimin loved and running his fingers through Jimin’s hair. He traced words on Jimin’s back. _I love you, I love you, I love you._
“Mm,” Jimin murmured, maybe in his sleep, maybe not. “I love you, too.” |
3ffd50ffa7c346f4ad52fad1a42f39c0 | ['cee595e7c92f4ea0965302b5af1f6eaf'] | "Oh~ how scary!" Asura chortled as he ruffled the boy's hair with his free hand. "You know, only very young reapers make that noise to ward off potential danger. Supposedly it's threatening, but it just sounds cute coming from you. Even so…" The moment of jovial good-humour was over just as quickly as it had begun, and Kid felt a wince escape him when the Kishin tightened his vice-like grip around his neck so his arm crushed against the reaper's throat painfully. The older man was right up beside his ear again, releasing a bitter hiss. "You still might want to watch how you behave now, _Kiddo_."
The painful silence returned, looming over the three. Nobody said a word for a moment as the hollow eyes of Death's mask bored into Asura. The two older beings were locked together in a silent stand-off, neither one shifting their gaze from the other. All the while, Kid twisted and struggled in Asura's hold as his hands tried to pry the arm away from his neck. The child kept flipping his eyes back and forth between the insane face of his captor and the blank mask of his father. And every time his golden orbs fell onto Lord Death, failure emerged behind their depths. Surely his father was disappointed in him now. Kid was humiliated, frustrated by himself. What a failure of a reaper he was! Not only had he initially failed to prevent the revival of the Kishin, he was now at the demon's mercy. Kid stared at his father, eyes silently begging for the elder's forgiveness for letting him down in such a way.
The quiet was once more shattered by the sound of Asura clearing his throat, the sound ripping Kid's stare away from his father and back to the Kishin.
"We don't have all day you know. So, my good friend Death, hurry up and spit it out. Kid here is _dying_ to hear what you have to say for yourself."
Lord Death sighed, as though he had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.
"…To answer your earlier question, Kid." Those words struck Kid like lightning. Lord Death had never once been straight forward with his son before this moment – the young reaper was finding it rather surreal. He didn't say a word however, and despite the uncomfortable position he was still locked in, he awaited with an undeniable eagerness for the rest of the explanation. "Fragments are parts of a soul. A more accurate description would be former parts of a pre-existing soul. They are pieces which have been removed from the original soul in order to create a new being."
There was another pause, a painful hesitancy. Kid could feel the Kishin bristling at the silence with impatience, growing agitated for Death to continue. The boy though was still unable to comprehend what Asura was trying to gain from all of this. It didn't seem to make any sense why he was so desperate for this conversation to take place. Yet, he clearly wanted Death to get to the point, for he irascibly growled out, "Go on."
And so, Death did continue after releasing another heavy sigh. "Reapers are created this way. You're a fragment, Kid."
If truth be told, Kid wasn't as surprised by this revelation as he probably would have been if he was less innate than he was. The boy wasn't exactly stupid – he knew that he had never had a mother, thus had come to a conclusion at a very young age that his father had probably reproduced asexually in order for Kid to come into existence. Granted, he had not been entirely sure how, but now that his father had explained this, it made much more sense.
However, he still couldn't quite get his head around what Asura possibly had to gain from forcing Death to reveal this information. Obviously there must have been some ulterior motive rather than teaching Kid about the birds and the bees of reapers.
Those ponderings in his head were so answered when once more, Asura pressed the Death god on further with a still rather agitated tone.
"Which fragment was he?"
That single question caused Kid's blood to run ice cold. _Which?_
The eyeholes of Death's mask were narrowing now into a fearsome glare, one which was focused on the Kishin. The tense quiet which followed caused Kid to feel his stomach to drop, as the cold fingers of realisation began prickling at his soul. He already had a feeling he knew what was coming.
"My second."
"No…" Kid whispered, the pieces falling into place and realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks at those words of conformation of his worst thoughts. He felt stupid for not working it out sooner, yet still horrified none the less. His enlarged eyes turned towards the Kishin, whose stare was now locked on the reaper boy whilst he wore a grin wide enough to show off his jagged teeth. "It can't be."
"He's finally getting it," Asura chuckled in response to the boy's expression of complete dismay. "You've got yourself a smart one here, Death. Why don't you hurry up and confirm his suspicions?"
For the first time in his life, Death the Kid did not want to hear the truth. He wanted to remain oblivious, to shove all the facts away and keep them locked up for the rest of eternity. He didn't want these revelations to continue. Ignorance was bliss, and Kid was wishing he had cherished it more when he'd had the chance. Now he was stuck facing a horrible reality which he would much rather have denied. The fear of facing that reality was taking a hold of Kid in an inescapable web, so much so that he didn't even stop to think before he shouted, ready to beg for his father to keep the truth hidden once again.
"Father, don't––!" | 66bdc9d73219467684c150fb915395f2 | ['cee595e7c92f4ea0965302b5af1f6eaf'] | Suddenly, a tremendous force hit him from behind, striking across his back swiftly and causing him to drop his two weapons from the jolt of the blow. A cry of pain and shock tore from his throat as the force sent him flying across the street. He was thrown to the farthest end from where he had been standing, and smashed into the crumbling wall of one of the deserted houses with a sickening crunch, the force effectively knocking the wind out of him and causing him to slump to the ground below.
" _ **KID**_!"
The sound of both Liz and Patty screaming for him in unison only just met his ears, their voices drowned out by the high-pitched ringing caused by the sheer strength of the blow. Kid groaned slightly and tried to pull himself up again, wincing as he felt his broken ribs cracking back into place so his body could begin to heal itself again.
The dark-haired boy managed to stand again, one hand on the wall behind him for support. As he blinked to try and clear his blurring vision, he caught sight of the two Thompson sisters, now in human form, rushing over to him. Both wore identical expressions of concern – blue eyes wide and beads of sweat glistening on their foreheads as they sprinted over.
It was then he caught sight of it; like a snake slithering up behind, waiting for the opportunity to strike its prey. The tendril slid out from a shadow, lurking right behind the two girls and taking aim. Kid's mouth fell and he took a shaking step forward, an anxious scream ripping out of his voice.
" _ **LOOK OUT**_!"
Everything went in slow motion from that point on. Kid bent his knees and lurched ahead, towards his partners. His hands were reaching forward as he jumped, ready to shove the two girls out of the way of the threat. Both sisters had stopped at the sound of his voice, turning to look over their shoulder in fear. But it was too late. The tendril monstrosity swiped at the two, knocking them both over like they were bowling pins. Kid heard the two release an ear-splitting scream as they were thrown away, discarded like trash by the _thing._ In his panic, he halted instantly, and could do nothing more than watch in horror as both Liz and Patty were thrown like he had been, into a stone wall. Unlike him, however, the force would do much more harm to a human.
Their heads slammed into the brickwork before they both slid down and collapsed onto the street below, unconscious. Already, Kid could see a dark scarlet liquid pooling around their heads and matting their blonde hair.
He was frozen, petrified, unable to even scream. His body was in complete paralysis just from the horror of the scene which had just played out.
"Liz… Patty…" Kid finally managed to choke out, his eyes never once leaving the two girl's bodies. They were completely still. Neither one moved. Kid felt his stomach drop and the colour drain from his face. "No no no _no_ …"
Finally, his brain seemed to kick into gear. The reaper took a step forward, about to rush over to the two so he could scoop them up in his arms and take them home as quickly as possible––!
Seemingly out of nowhere, a figure emerged from the shadows and stepped forward, standing right in front of the two downed girls. Kid stopped instantly, his heart going completely still in that instant as he held his breath.
The figure observed the boy silently as his tendrils… no… his _scarves_ twisted and writhed around him. Kid's eyes widened when he realised the scarves were what had just attacked them, and he gulped when the reality of who was standing before him finally sunk in. Now it made sense – clearly Kaguya's actions had simply been a trap to lure the young reaper out. She'd kept him busy with her fight whilst waiting for this figure to make his appearance. And now, he'd arrived.
His attacker didn't make a single move towards him; he just stood there and let his face crack to reveal a grin of rotten teeth. Swaddled up in a large red shirt and long trousers, his layers and layers of scarves wrapped around his neck and face, completely enveloping him, the man was instantly recognisable. He tilted his head slightly to one side and let out a high-pitched giggle. Kid took one step back instinctively in fear. The madness wavelength emitting off his attacker was like a foul stench which made him want to heave and turn his face away. But his eyes were rooted on the figure in fear.
Kid was trembling now, unable to control his body. Another two steps were taken back when the man took one forward; a predator moving in closer to his prey.
Slowly, the Kishin Asura raised his long, bony hand and wiggled his fingers at the young reaper in a teasing wave. When he opened his mouth, the words which tumbled out were unsettlingly pleasant and caused Kid's blood to run ice-cold.
"I told you I'd find you… _Death the Kid_."
* * *
" _ **Do you want to know where the real hell is hiding? It's inside your head."**_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please don’t hate me over the fact Asura wasn’t really in this chapter at all. He’s getting much more screen time from now on, don’t worry! Also, we’ll find out what’s going on with Maka next chapter. On that note, I have to say I am pretty excited for chapter 3. Most of it had already been written out before this chapter was completed (for some reason I just got a lot of inspiration for it), so it will be published quite soon.
> |
7340b26fe0fc4a4a81f4e1b5113a5089 | ['cf1d102f539a4a9290a4d1867d088939'] |
Prom Night (Simon Spier x Bram Greenfeld)
“I told you, prom is kind of cliche,” I protest, as Leah attacks my hair with a brush.
“Simon Spier, you are going to attend your senior prom and I refuse to hear another if, and or but out of you,” She states in a business-like tone, well, as professional as someone with a mouthful of bobby pins can sound. “Your hair is literally a bird’s nest, by the way.”
Abby giggles, and I catch a glimpse of her squeezing Nick’s hand out of the corner of my eye.
“So you both are going to sit there and watch me suffer?” I complain jokingly. “What kind of friends are you?”
“Good ones, because we want you to enjoy yourself at the last high school dance of the year,” Nick retorts, playfully jabbing me in the ribs.
Leah throws down the hairbrush in frustration and begins to straighten my suit jacket. “Nick, you’re creasing him!”
“When you think about it, it’s the last high school dance of our lives.” Abby glares at me, a look of devilish anticipation in her eyes.
Abby and Nick resemble a matching set of Barbie and Ken dolls with their coordinating burgundy and black outfits. Abby, looking as effortlessly elegant as possible, is wearing a mermaid style gown that hugs her torso and flares out into intricate ruffles at mid-thigh length. The rich maroon compliments her honey-brown complexion and her thick, dark curls frame her perpetually smiling face. Nick is glowing with pride, mostly because he’s still processing the fact that he and Abby are prom dates. The guy I’ve known my entire life has been replaced by a suave stranger, and I mean that in the best way. His dress shirt, crisply ironed and the same vibrant shade as Abby’s dress, peeks out of the front of his black suit jacket. His shock of bushy curls has been tamed somehow, and the ivory-colored rose in his lapel mirrors the one in Abby’s corsage.
“You both look amazing,” I grin, butterflies rising in my stomach. “And you too, Leah.”
“Aw thanks, Simon!”
Leah takes a step back to admire her handiwork, the silver sequins adorning her dress glinting under the light of my bedroom. Her dress is slightly longer than Abby’s, and a slit in the skirt showcases her surprisingly toned legs. I would never have labeled her as a glitter kind of girl, but it’s unusually fitting. Her radiance seems to overpower the shine of the sequins, lighting up the room with her smile.
“Thank you, Si. And you are the definition of stud right now, thanks to me.” She straightens my eyebrow with a swipe of her finger and plants a kiss on my cheek.
I turn to face the mirror, and I can barely recognize myself in the reflection. Leah has somehow swept my perpetual behead into a civilized coiff of waves. The robin’s egg blue of the dress shirt Abby suggested makes my eyes pop in a way I’ve never noticed before. And for the first time in what seems like forever, the dark circles of sleep deprivation no longer plague my eyes.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath, my eyes widening with awe.
“You’re missing one thing, Simon.” Abby unfastens the top button of my shirt, exposing an inch of skin that was previously hidden.
“That pulls it all together pretty well!” Leah declares happily, perching on the side of my unmade bed.
Abby smirks at me knowingly. “We have to leave something for Bram to think about, if you know what I mean.”
The three of them dissolve into laughter, as blood rushes to my cheeks.
“Oh my god, Abby,” I roll my eyes, attempting to hold in a smile. Suddenly, my phone buzzes from inside my pocket.
Raisin Bram: I’m here!
“Hey, Bram’s here if you want to take pictures!” I announce, beaming widely at the thought of him.
“What do you mean by if? Of course I want pictures with my favorite people in the whole world!” Nick exclaims, hopping to his feet.
“We should go outside while the sun’s still here. I don’t think my room is the best place for this.” I laugh, gesturing towards my Elliott Smith poster and the framed photo of Daniel Radcliffe on my cluttered desk.
The doorbell rings, and my heart leaps into my mouth. Even though it’s been three months since Bram and I declared ourselves boyfriends, the thought of having him all to myself still excites me. Being around him fills me with the same rush of joy as
“Great to see you again, Bram! You look so handsome!” The comforting enthusiasm of my mom’s voice echoed from the living room.
“We should probably head down there before my parents scare him away,” I joke, adjusting my collar.
We scamper down the narrow stairwell, a little less rambunctiously as we normally would. Dress shoes and heels aren’t exactly ideal running material. “Oh my goodness! You all look so grown up!” Mom exclaims, grabbing her camera off the hallway table.
A conversation about growing up too fast and graduation erupts among Leah, Abby, Nick, and Mom; but I’m not paying attention at all. It’s like their chatter is exuding from a nearby room, because of how muffled and distant it seems.
It’s funny how the world fades away when you reunite with the one you love.
**Author's Note:**
> So I impulsively started this a few hours after seeing the movie adaptation of one of my favorite books, and I originally wanted it to be a one-shot. I'm pretty sure it's going to go well past one-shot length, and I hope you enjoyed this sickening fluff almost as much as I enjoyed writing it. Did I mention how much I love Simon and Bram? Twenty GayTeen is everything I've expected it to be so far. | 08f47129899e4a5195f41bdfb145a5d6 | ['cf1d102f539a4a9290a4d1867d088939'] | Overcast Kid
“He’s really something, isn’t he?” Patrick remarks absently, amid filling the shaker to the brim with ice.
He had never been particularly fond of the nightlife scene, mainly because of how suffocating it felt. Despite the nauseating combination of pulsating lights, throbbing music, and close proximity to, well, everyone; he couldn’t deny such a high paying offer. It was just another cultural norm of broke college students. And the added bonus of a rather alluring frequent customer was definitely a plus.
Upon his first sight of the man in question, Patrick recalls being conflicted.
Conflicted in a sense of “Do I want to be him or be with him?”
His toned biceps are cloaked with tattoo sleeves, all in different styles but inked with an identical sense of precision. The bleached blond hair, disheveled just so, contrasts his tan complexion in an unexpected yet pleasing way. A playful smirk dances across his stubble-covered face at all times, as if he’s perpetually holding in laughter.
“Patrick! Earth to Patrick Stump!” His train of thought suddenly grinds to a halt at the sound of Joe’s voice.
Joe gestures towards the ice scoop in Patrick’s hand. “Isn’t martini ice supposed to be chips instead of cubes?”
Patrick blushes furiously, and dumps the frozen contents of the steel shaker back into the ice bucket.
“I’m sorry, I just got distracted,” He laughs, attempting to play off his carelessness. “At least it’s not super busy tonight.”
Joe cracks a smile, shoving a few stray curls behind his ear. “You still eyeing that dude over there?” He asks knowingly, his eyebrows arched in skepticism.
Patrick can feel his cheeks burning, suddenly thankful for the concealing properties of nightclub lighting. “Hey, you can’t blame me. He hasn’t come around for a few weeks and I was just making up for the time I missed out on.”
“In my humble opinion, you should go talk to him. Maybe ask for his number or you know, actually find out what his name is,” Joe replies, unearthing a bottle of gin from the lower shelf of the bar counter.
Patrick nearly recoils at the thought of approaching him.
“Joe, I don’t even know if he’s into guys. You know how embarrassing it would be if he wasn’t?” He frets, refilling the shaker’s chamber with fresh ice chips.
“Well, now’s your time to shine because he’s headed here right now.” Joe announces, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Patrick’s eyes widen in fear, and his palms begin to dampen with sweat. Be calm, he reminds himself mentally. A whirlwind of butterflies flutter through his stomach as he watches the handsome stranger near the bar counter.
“Uh, heyy. What should I get?” He flashes a gleaming smile, his words trembling as they escape his lips. A familiar aroma of sickly sweetness radiates from him, as he perches atop a cushioned barstool.
He’s as high as a kite, Patrick notes.
“I-I recommend the Mojito, it’s a customer favorite.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact initially.
The stranger leans over, his elbows propped atop the marble counter. His hazel eyes are framed with a network of bloodshot veins, confirming Patrick's drug theory.
“Then the mojito it is,” He echoes enthusiastically, his eyes fixated upon Patrick’s name tag. “Has anyone told you that you’re a customer favorite, Trick?”
Patrick keeps his eyes down as he pours the vodka, wondering what he has done to deserve a conversation with the insanely attractive guy he’s been admiring from afar for weeks on end.
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that,” He grins, silently bursting with pride as he slices a lime into wedges. “But it’s extra special when it comes from you.”
Immediately after the words escape him, Patrick wonders where they could have possibly come from. Customer service had never been his forte, especially with overwhelmingly stunning guys like this.
“You’re fucking adorable, you little muffin,” He declares giddily, slamming his fist on the countertop. His pupils dilate immensely, causing him to appear simultaneously neurotic yet ecstatic.
Patrick can’t help but smile like an idiot.
“I’m sorry if he’s bothering you, we need to take him home really soon,” A bearded man shouts over the din of the party, his shock of bright red hair illuminated under the swirling disco lights. He throws his arm around his intoxicated friend’s shoulders, and shoves a crumpled twenty dollar bill into Patrick’s hands.
“Look how damn cute he is, Andy! We can’t go now!” The inked stranger protests, as the presumed designated driver attempts to drag him away from the barstools.
“Pete, I’m giving you two more minutes here. And that’s it.” Andy sighs, exasperated.
So that’s his name! Patrick internally rejoices over not having to ask.
Pete snatches a pen from a mug on the ledge of the bar and seizes Patrick’s arm. The grip of his fingers is rough and calloused, as he scribbles a row of ten digits onto Patrick’s inner forearm.
“Call me!” He shouts, winking roguishly as Andy effortlessly tosses him over his broad shoulders fireman-style. As his retreating back disappears among the crowd of writhing bodies, Patrick’s mind begins to cloud with thoughts.
Joe turns to Patrick, a distinctive look of 'I told you so' in his piercing blue eyes. “He literally just threw himself at you, what more do you want?”
**Author's Note:**
> This is far from great but I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for updates xoxo |
79726147f7434d7d96ad9f49342c8c8c | ['cf24b82becda4f878552ae1056a5b5bf'] | The River
**Author's Note:**
> Listen to “K” by Cigarettes After Sex while reading this.
He was there. Laying on the bench right next to the river, smoking a cigarette.
He was wearing his favourite hat, with one of his million blouses and a simple pair of jeans.
His long hair was almost all over his eyes; those green, deep eyes which had a strange light under the night sky.
He was looking at the stars and the moon, while listening to the waves of the river.
It was three in the morning, and he couldn't think of anything but that night.
_Her green eyes were bright under the lights. Her blonde hair was shining, and the wind was blowing through it._
_She looked at him and smiled._
_Izzy could feel his heart beating really fast._
_Everything was so peaceful, the city lights were soft and nobody was around at that time of night._
_He reached down to take her hand and they stopped walking. She was leaning against the railing, where on the other side there was the river._
_He could see her face, her heavenly face, and the whole city right behind her. He started touching her hair, taking it away from her face; she was smiling. He was touching her cheek gently with his other hand, while he was getting closer to her. They looked at each other; he was so madly in love with her - and he knew she was too._
_Their lips softly touched. He was looking at her as if he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. Then he started kissing her passionately, making their tongues intertwine._
_«I love yo-...»_
He opened his eyes. A tear ran down his face and he immediately wiped it away.
He was sobbing, he was feeling as if his heart was ripped away from his chest.
He got up from the bench, heading towards the railing to look at the river. The sound of it, mixed with the sounds of the night, made him feel even more nostalgic.
He lighted up another cigarette and then looked at the stars again... Where was his angelic creature? | c0d4015733e3468199014dd91809c88a | ['cf24b82becda4f878552ae1056a5b5bf'] |
The Bridge
**Author's Note:**
> The bridge used from the author to write this is the Blackfriars Bridge in London.
>
> Suggested song to listen to while reading: “There is a light that never goes out” by The Smiths.
>
> [Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.]
* * *
He was walking on the bridge, hiding in a leather jacket.
He was trying not to be seen; none would've wanted to see a young man cry in the streets of London.
It was a bad time; maybe the worst of his life, since he let her go. She was there somewhere, he knew that.
She was his little secret, his relief when everything was going wrong.
So he kept going back there, where they first met; she loved that city more than she loved her own life and it made him feel safe too.
He had been hoping for so long to meet those eyes again.
_«I've never seen something more beautiful» Izzy thought, while looking at the girl standing in front of him._
_He thought it was fun he could actually sit on a bridge and look at the Thames and the whole city at the same time._
_And look at beautiful girls too._
_But she had something in those eyes that made her look different from any other woman he had ever met before._
_She had beautiful blonde hair and green eyes, almost blue. She was pale and had red lips. _
_«Such a heavenly creature» he thought._
_But she looked sad._
_She looked sad and broken. _
_She was looking at the whole city and a little smile appeared on her face, but she was also tearing up - somehow he could feel what she was feeling too._
_That was her happy place._
_«Hey, you okay?» Izzy asked, afraid to get a bad answer._
_She was wiping her tears away._
_A huge smile appeared on her face as she turned to him._
_«Yeah» she smiled brightly «I'm okay». Some tears were still on her face, and she was trying to wipe them away once again._
_Her emotions were about to explode._
_«Does it ever happen to you, to feel...» she looked at the river once again «...never mind. I don't want other people to get involved with my problems or hear my stupid, sad, messed up thoughts. I don't even know you...»_
_«Hey, listen. I'm not that kind of person. I love listening to people's stories, and you also seem... different. I can see it in your eyes. So just sit here now and tell me about it. You need to talk to someone» he sat differently - in a better way - and lighted up a cigarette «want one? It's gonna help» he said, while smiling._
_«Yeah, I know. Those bastards help all the time. Thank you.»_
_«So, tell me. What's wrong? Why were you crying and smiling at the same time?»_
_«I've been dreaming of this for years» she said._
_«Dreaming of what?»_
_«Looking at the Thames whenever something goes wrong. I couldn't do this some years ago. I had to keep my sadness and anger inside of me... The river understands me.»_
_«The river reminds me of the time that passes. Sometimes I think we stress too much over things, and these things won't let us live life the way we want. In the end, we're just dust and bones» he looked at her._
_«Yeah, we're dust and bones. I wish it was easier for me to live every moment without getting anxious. But oh, somehow the thought that I'm finally here makes me feel better. This has always been my home, at heart. The heart tells you where you belong.»_
_«For how long have you been living here?»_
_«Two months only, and I'm never leaving again» her eyes were still wet from tears «what about you?»_
_«I don't live here, I live in Los Angeles. I'm here because of my job, but I'm going to stay for one month or two. The tour finishes here and I would like to see more of this city» he looked around him. That place had many things in common with LA, but it was very different too: London had a soul, he thought._
_«The tour? So you're like a singer or something?»_
_«I play guitar in a band. Never heard of Guns N' Roses?» the band wasn't very big in England, many people didn't know about them, so he didn't expect her to know._
_«No, never. I should come see you, seems like a good band; at least, the name is...»_
_«If you love music, there's a very high chance you'll like us» he laughed, and lighted up another cigarette._
_«Then I'll like you. Probably. I'm really into music, I think it somehow reads my soul.»_
_«I think about that too...» he thought about the fact that he ended up playing there with his mates; he felt great for a moment «...You know, I really enjoy talking to you. You're great and you have a brain.»_
_«And you're not like other people. They often run away from me! Everyone__literally does! They don't seem to understand my mental health... But you did, somehow» her eyes were shining and the wind was going through her hair; she pulled it away from her face. «You're the first person I talk to since the day I moved here. You have no idea how much I need that... I've been talking to__the river for so long, so thank you for this. Really.»_
_«I needed to talk to someone too, so thank you for talking to me. But now, why don't we take a walk? I'll show you the venue where we'll play tomorrow, if you want. Then we can have dinner somewhere. I think we both need that, don't we? At least I'll try my best not to see you cry anymore... Or, if you really need to cry, there's me now. Okay?»_
_«Nice idea. Yes, we totally need that» the girl laughed, as if she was thanking him once again somehow. _
_«I'm so stupid, I'm sorry - my name is Izzy. I mean, my name is Jeffrey but everyone calls me Izzy...» he got up from that strange kind of bench - it was more of a wall, actually. They shook hands._
_«Nice to meet you, Izzy» she said with a huge smile on her face._ |
3e9271eaa3b84004a1f8f2a36de96f83 | ['cf2a3bf0ea374b1cbd6df5abe1418756'] |
She Wants
It's not until they're back at Felix's loft that Delphine finally manages to catch Cosima's eye. They'd both been quiet during the cab ride home, equally exhausted from the bizarre and agonizing process of dissecting Jennifer. Delphine can't help but feel guilty. She'd hoped to shock Cosima in some way; force her to truly confront the severity of her illness, but now that Cosima has stopped joking, the usual smile disappeared from her lips, Delphine thinks that she's made a mistake. It's stupid, of course. They have to get to work at some point; there is clearly a limited amount of time to find a cure, but... it feels wrong, now.
“Are you okay?” It must be the tenth time she's asked today alone.
“I'm fine.”
Delphine reaches her hand out and picks an imaginary piece of fluff from Cosima's shoulder, who flinches. This is why she hasn't touched her all day. Delphine has been able to tell – it's not just Jennifer that's been playing on her mind, but Jennifer's boyfriend, her monitor, too.
“I'm sorry.” Delphine is wondering if she'll ever stop apologizing. “Cosima... please talk to me.”
Cosima looks wearily up at Delphine again, slumped on Felix's couch a few inches away. “What do you want me to say, Delphine? Do you want me to tell you how fucked up this is? How shitty watching those videos made me feel? Can't you already tell?”
It seems like every conversation they have these days is a tight-rope walk, with Delphine constantly dangling a foot in thin air. When she thinks she's being caring and kind, Cosima just seems to withdraw more, and when she tries to dig deeper, Cosima snaps back at her.
“I just thought it might help for you to... to verbalize your feelings. That's all.”
Cosima shrugs and looks away again. “I don't want to talk.”
“Then let's do something else. I'll make dinner. Or would you like me to order pizza? Anything you want.” Delphine tries a small smile, attempts to cajole Cosima back to the easy domesticity they shared just a few weeks ago. “We can watch a film?”
“Delphine...” Cosima sighs, leans over, and rests her head on Delphine's shoulder. “Just stop.”
It hurts, to be shut down, but at least they can touch again. Delphine shifts, wraps an arm around Cosima and rests her hand gently along her side, her fingers gently stroking the patch of skin between Cosima's jeans and t-shirt. All Delphine wants to do is talk, to apologies, to explain, to sort out this mess in her mind, but in lieu of that, there is physical intimacy. She presses a kiss to the side of Cosima's head, lingers and breathes in the scent of patchouli that is so deeply entwined with Cosima now. Another kiss, to Cosima's forehead, and again to the tip of her nose, and finally Cosima smiles, just for a second. When she draws back Delphine almost screams, please, let me have something, but it's only so that she can turn and press her own kisses to Delphine's cheek, lips, neck.
Sometimes Delphine wonders, is this a relationship? They fuck, yes, and they work together all day long, and they sleep entangled in Felix's bed. But emotionally, it is all left unsaid. Delphine has tried – but the 'L' word seems to get stuck in her throat each time she tries to say it, and Cosima will never bring it up.
She gasps as Cosima's teeth skim over her pulse point. This will do, as always, this will do for now. She pushes Cosima back, forces her away only to return the favor and bite gently down on her neck. The low growl it draws vibrates through her lips and so she bites harder, presses Cosima onto her back on the cushions and holds her there, licking a path up to her mouth, which is open, wet and warm. Cosima kisses her hard, almost as though she's trying to push Delphine away, but Delphine holds firm, bites Cosima's lower lip and twists her hips just so, relishing in the sharp moan elicited.
They rock together, Cosima's hands scratching up Delphine's back, dragging her shirt up until Delphine gives, breaks away and pulls the thing off herself. She pauses for a moment, just to memories the sight and feel of Cosima under her, but Cosima is already bucking upwards, trying to roll them so Delphine is on her back. Still straddling Cosima, Delphine pulls her lover's top off and throws it to the sides, unbuttons Cosima's jeans, and in one swift movement pins Cosima back down, wrists trapped above her head by one of Delphine's hands.
They pause like that, settle into each other, Delphine searching Cosima's face. She wants to ask again, Are you okay? But Cosima's steady gaze tells her not to, and then Cosima's bucking hips tell her to keep going. Delphine relents, but slowly, and takes advantage of this position of power to draw the moment out. She leans down, kisses Cosima languorously and pulls away when Cosima tries to kiss back harder.
“Ah-ah.” Delphine can't quite help herself, she shakes her head, a small, sly smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and she presses the forefinger from her free hand to Cosima's lips. Her lover's eyes narrow, briefly, but they flutter closed as Delphine's finger trails down over her throat, skimming over the channel between Cosima's breasts, and slips under the waistband of her jeans. There's a strangled gasp when Delphine first strokes down over the outside of Cosima's underwear, and full-throated moan as Delphine pushes the lace aside and slides two fingers against Cosima's center.
Her other arm aches with the effort of both pinning Cosima and holding herself up, so Delphine pauses again, poised at Cosima's entrance, and leans her mouth down to Cosima's ear.
“Cosima.” A whisper.
Her lover bucks again beneath her, groans when Delphine's hand slides over her clit.
“Cosima!” Delphine's tone is sharper, and she pulls her hand away, forcing Cosima to whimper almost petulantly. “I am going to release your hands...” she licks along the shell of Cosima's ear, “But you will not move them,” then bites Cosima's earlobe softly, “Understand?”
A few seconds pass, and Delphine worries that she's ruined it, that Cosima will switch off again. But the moment has not passed, she feels Cosima nod her head just slightly. Delphine's blood runs suddenly hotter, and she pushes her fingers back down, ready to take Cosima.
“I asked you, do you understand, Cosima?”
There's another strangled whimper, and it sounds enough like a yes, please, that Delphine can't help herself any longer. She lets go of Cosima's wrists and lowers her body down, pushing inside Cosima in one sudden, smooth motion. Cosima is tight, clenching, vibrating against her, and Delphine fucks her slowly, mouth pressed against her ear, her neck, burying herself as far inside Cosima as she can.
Cosima's arms stay above her head, and Delphine misses them, wishes she could feel them wrapped around her, pulling her closer and scratching down her back. But this is what she asked for. For Cosima to do as she says, to let Delphine in, to allow Delphine the freedom of her body. Delphine can pretend, this way. When Cosima is touching her, Delphine is the one who is open, vulnerable, and she is sure that every time Cosima makes her come, she can see every lie Delphine has told all over again. But now Delphine's fingers curl inside Cosima, her thumb pushes down on Cosima's clit, and Delphine is making Cosima fall apart. And when Cosima's muscles are still pulsing around Delphine's fingers, Delphine can watch the lazy smile stretch over Cosima's face and feel like she has done something good. | 53147830015a4515ad50451b71db4892 | ['cf2a3bf0ea374b1cbd6df5abe1418756'] | Silver Strand
This time, Delphine managed to close her eyes. Cosima was pressing against her, they were joined at the lips and the waist and her hands were struggling with Cosima's shirt. She had to close her eyes this time, there was too much happening and with her eyes shut she could focus on the most pressing task. This couldn't be about Leekie, it couldn't be about her job, she must give into whatever spark there was between her and Cosima and work from there. But it scared her, and so she closed her eyes.
The damn shirt still wouldn't come off. It got caught first on Delphine's own bracelet, then twisted round Cosima's head, and when they freed finally her from that it was trapping Cosima's hands behind her, wrapped around her wrists bafflingly tight.
“Wait...”, Cosima pulled back with an embarrassed smile. “Let me just... get myself out of this.” She ducked her head and Delphine managed to stall a few moments as Cosima struggled. But her eyes were open again and her heart was racing again, and she had to disguise her nerves as impatience, so she lifted Cosima's chin and kissed her firmly.
“Don't worry.”
She backed Cosima towards the wall, reached round and covered Cosima's wrists with her hands. Her chest twinged again so she held Cosima tighter, kissed her harder, allowed herself to surrender into the moment the same way Cosima was yielding to her.
Their lips broke and Cosima gasped; Delphine's skin tingled. Now she dipped her mouth to Cosima's neck, her eyes still squeezed shut so that she had to follow the smooth skin by feel alone. At Cosima's collarbone, she opened her mouth and bit lightly, hoping to draw another of those precious gasps, and felt Cosima's arms quiver hard against her grip.
“Are you okay?” Delphine had to check. She didn't want to think, didn't want to stop, but she had to ask. Her lips rested lightly above Cosima's heart and she waited blindly.
“Delphine,” there was a grin in Cosima's voice, Delphine could hear it behind the laboured breathing, “don't tease.”
She couldn't help smiling herself, it stayed on her lips as she kissed a path down Cosima's sternum and between the valley of her breasts. Cosima's undershirt was now the problem, so she gently pulled it over her head, letting it rest on the trapped wrists behind Cosima's back.
Delphine had to keep her eyes open now. Cosima was resting against the wall, her chest bare and rising and falling steadily, a faint red blush creeping up to her throat. She waited, her gaze steady behind her glasses, and it made Delphine want to wipe that composure away. They kissed again, and this time Delphine's hand carefully traced the same steps her lips had made, brushing down Cosima's neck to the top of her stomach, then under her left breast and round. She took her time, mapped out the contours of each breast over and over and delighted in the steady increase of Cosima's breath at each pass.
“I said don't tease.” The smile was still there but Delphine could also hear some impatience in Cosima's voice, finally, and she smirked as her fingers found Cosima's nipple and squeezed. Their gaze locked and Cosima's smile vanished, her lower lip trembling.
“ _Delphine_.”
The low, scratchy sound of her name juddered through Delphine. Her hands dove downwards, unbuttoned Cosima's pants and slipped inside. They were kissing again, more sloppily now, their tongues touched and their teeth bit and finally Delphine was inside her, one finger swallowed easily by Cosima's warmth.
Cosima's head fell back, her lips parted slightly, and Delphine couldn't tear her eyes away. She pressed another finger inside, moved them faster, and leant her hand on the wall above Cosima's head. She was struggling, her arm ached, her belly felt tight and her breathing was nearly matching Cosima's shallow gasps. But her motions continued automatically, she was hypnotized by this woman, drawn in by her submission.
By accident her palm pressed hard against Cosima's sex as she thrust in, and she felt a rapid tightening around her fingers, a strong grip that pulled her in closer. Cosima was coming, she realised, and her hand slowed unintentionally as she watched the expressions flit over Cosima's face. They matched with each pulse through her groin, her lips opening and closing gently, her eyes wide but calm and caught with Delphine's own.
Their breathing slowed together, Delphine carefully pulled her hand from Cosima and let the other drop to Cosima's jaw.
“Are you okay?” She had to ask again.
Cosima grinned by way of answer, “I should have guessed you had a kinky side.” |
f7650748a8cf40bb9c336df57c22a5ee | ['cf2a8c62af4c4cacac17d49b086fa286'] | The ten second mark came, scores of voices crying out the numbers. “Well we want our wives to have as much lucky love as possible.” Elsa smirked, eyes full of mirth. “So what should be do?”
Anna closed distance as the crowd roared midnight. “Kiss me?”
2. LBD
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Anna is very impressed with Elsa's latest equipment upgrade.
Elsa grunted, finally succeeding in pulling the excessively tight dress down over her chest. It was shoulderless, the sweetheart neckline dipped far too low, and the hem barely brushed her knees. She should have said no to Anna as soon as she presented the thing with a dramatic flourish and puppy dog eyes too cute for her own damn good. **
**
“How’s it look?” The eager voice from just outside the dressing room door had Elsa rolling her eyes.
“Like I’m about to celebrate my twenty-first birthday again. Getting free drinks by sitting on guys’ laps and all.” Grimacing at her reflection in the floor length mirror as she turned to check out the view from behind, Elsa sighed. “Sequins, really?”
“Oooh,” Anna cooed, leaning forward from her seat on one of the many otherwise deserted benches outside Elsa’s stall. Even the worker staffing the dressing rooms had wandered off, leaving the women to their fashion show. “Well, that sounds more like _my_ twenty-first, actually.”
“You weren’t _at_ my twenty-first, darling,” Elsa reminded her, shaking her head after one last glance. “Alright, this is coming off. And you’d best bring me some better selections, otherwise you’ll lose your Elsa-doll privileges.”
Pouting, Anna stood from her perch and sauntered over to the door, rattling the handle. “No, no, you have to show me first!” She grinned at Elsa’s belaboured groan and rattled the handle again. “And didn’t you go out with your parents?”
“We had dinner,” Elsa conceded, “but afterwards, Meg dragged me along quite the bar hopping trail, along with her boy-toy of the evening and a few of our other friends.” She unlocked the door and Anna shoved her way inside and closed it behind her before Elsa could change her mind.
Heat. All encompassing, palpable heat, racing over Elsa’s skin and warming her cheeks. Anna’s intense gaze was filled with it as she looked Elsa up and down, lingering over her ankles, thighs, belly, breasts, then flicking up to her eyes. The dressing room felt ten times smaller than it was, and when Anna took a step closer Elsa felt like there was no space between them at all.
The rasp of Anna’s palm against her arm made Elsa shudder and take a step back, overwhelmed.
“Wow,” Anna croaked, then cleared her throat, a dopey smile taking up residence on her face. “I see what you mean; it definitely makes you look ten years younger.”
“Eleven years,” Elsa corrected, her blush turning embarrassed.
“Maybe if you had your hair down,” Anna retorted with a poke at Elsa’s midsection. Her hand lingered on Elsa’s belly and Elsa sucked in a breath, almost whimpering when Anna took her hand away. “With that bun you look like a graduate student being dragged out to a party.”
There was a pause as they stared at one another, Anna with an easy smile and Elsa chewing on her lip, before Elsa reached up and tugged her hair free from the bobby pins holding it in place. The blonde locks tumbled over her shoulders and she ran her hand through them, unearthing more pins and combing through tangles. “Better?”
Eyes gone wide, Anna could do little more than let out a choked “uh” and flush red when Elsa tossed her head and laughed.
“If I look twenty-one, _you_ look seventeen again, gawping like that,” Elsa teased, stroking along Anna’s dropped jaw with a delicate finger. The freckles on Anna’s face always looked darker when she blushed, and now was no exception.
“Yeah, well,” Anna muttered, leaning into Elsa’s touch despite her muttering, “have you seen yourself?”
Elsa glanced towards the mirror beside them, and Anna followed her gaze. Their reflection showed them inches apart, Anna looking excessively casual in jeans, a mint blouse, and chucks next to Elsa in her dress. Both of them were pink, from the gentle ribbing and the appreciative glances, and grew more so when they watched Anna’s hand reach out and brush Elsa’s leg just below the hem of her dress.
“It’s not the shortest you’ve ever worn,” Anna said, her voice low and playful. The sound would have sent shivers through Elsa were she not already trembling as Anna slid her hand upwards, slowly lifting one side of the dress so that it was just below mid thigh. Elsa’s body blocked the sight in the mirror, but she could feel Anna’s other hand copying the movements on her other side. “There,” she rasped, pressing their cheeks together as she came closer, “Your senior prom, although that dress was blue.”
Elsa turned her face towards Anna, whispering directly against her ear, “You forgot about our honeymoon cruise.” Her hands covered Anna’s and brought them higher by just an inch or so, the fabric tickling her skin as it swayed. Anna gulped and tilted her head to face Elsa, leaving them a hair’s breadth apart. Their breath swirled between them, shallow and quick, before Elsa leaned forward and pressed her lips against Anna’s.
Soft and hesitant at first, Elsa edged closer and tilted her head, pulling away only to lay lingering pecks on Anna’s mouth, over and over, each of them lingering longer and longer. Anna groaned against her plush lips, sliding her hands over Elsa’s thighs around to the back, still roving underneath her dress. Mouth dry, Anna licked her lips, accidentally flicking her tongue over Elsa’s mouth as she came back in for another kiss. Elsa opened her mouth in tandem with Anna reaching her backside and squeezing, and they both gasped when Anna’s thumb swiped over her bare cheek. | b7f8e5ae741f49149350b73316c7b9e5 | ['cf2a8c62af4c4cacac17d49b086fa286'] | “I’m not sure that’s proper math,” Elsa grumbled. Anna waved her hand dismissively. “Also calling people after ten, much less at two, is a little rude isn’t it?”
“Elsa, she’s a high schooler. It’s technically saturday. I guarantee you that she’s awake.”
Elsa realized with some finality that Anna wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She looked for courage on the floor, the ceiling, and between her own hands, only to find none and come right back to Anna.
“Come on, Elsa,” Anna said quietly, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly.
“I really don’t know, Anna. Everything she is… is perfect.” Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. “Do you– Have you ever met someone that, just by being around them, made you want to be a better person?”
“Well, yeah,” Anna said as she got up and walked over to where their phones were charging, “It’s you.”
When she turned back around and saw Elsa staring at her, mouth slightly parted, Anna held her phone to her chest and tilted her head.
“Erm. Earth to Elsa? You okay there, champ?” Elsa couldn’t respond. “Here,” Anna handed Elsa her phone. “You’re going to call her and tell her that you like her. I’ll be right upstairs. Text me when you’re done.”
Anna tapped the edge of Elsa’s phone meaningfully before leaving her alone. Elsa had still seemed a bit shell shocked, but she’d get over it. Creeping up the stairs, Anna lingered at the top, telling herself it wasn’t eavesdropping if it was on accident. Besides, she reasoned, she couldn’t just open the basement door. What if her parents woke up? Better to sit and wait.
She listened to the silence. The couch creaked a few times but there certainly weren’t any nails hitting clear plastic touch screens or dial tones. After a long minute passed, Anna thought about calling down some words of encouragement, but she didn’t want to psych Elsa out – or to reveal that she was listening in.
A loud, beleaguered sigh rang out from below, and Anna covered her mouth to keep from giggling. “Okay.” Elsa sounded terrified, and Anna felt a little guilty for pushing her into doing this. “Okay.”
This time there were taps and the distant buzz of the connecting tone before Elsa put the phone to her ear. Anna leaned forward in anticipation, straining her ears, her mind racing–
And then her phone buzzed.
Anna swallowed a frustrated scream, swiping to answer, eyes still trained on the stairs, not wanting to miss any of Elsa’s conversation with her crush. “Hi, yeah, I’m kinda in the middle of something,” she rushed out, in a low, harsh whisper, “so can I just call you–”
“Um.” A tentative, distorted voice cut her off. “Hi.”
Recognition drained the strength from her body. Comprehension catapulted her heart to the clouds, bursting with such happiness her throat locked up. She shot from her perch and stumbled down the stairs two at a time, crashing into the wall and somehow managing to keep her phone and ribs intact. Elsa stared at her in shock, looking about a heartbeat away from vaulting over the couch.
“H-Hi, me?” Anna spoke so softly that she could barely hear herself. “ _Me_?”
A brilliant smile split Elsa’s face and her shoulders slumped forward in relief. “Yeah,” Elsa said, equally soft, echoing a millisecond later in Anna’s ear. “Hi, _you_.” |
feef554552a047b29332ef4e755ce0a4 | ['cf49ca591eee409b85294555c3e0b97d'] | "Drink." Stiles encourages as he hands the boy the sippy. Without a word he sits up and starts to drink. Stiles has done his best to make the potion as tasteful as possible.
Unlike Ellie who had come from an orphanage, Jon had been found wondering the forrest in Cora's territory. No one knows how he got there or what happened to his pack. Cora's pack had looked for days for any signs of other wolves before declaring Jon an orphan. All it took was one phone call and Stiles was on a plane heading to get the new Stilinski-Hale family member.
That had been a few months ago. Jonathan had settled in remarkably well. When it came to trying to figure out what to call him, Stiles had rattled off names until the young wolf had responded. Once the pup had turned to Stiles blinking those dark eyes at the name 'Jonathan', it was settled.
The only thing that had the pack worried is the muteness. Nothing was wrong with his vocal cords or throat, they had Deaton check. Jonathan was 100% healthy he just.. didn't speak. He didn't scream, didn't laugh, he didn't even growl. Just silence. Stiles and Derek had talked one night, wondering out loud if whatever had happened to his old pack is the reason for their son's muteness.
Jon held the sippy out for Stiles, indicating that he was done. Stiles watched his eyes closely. Ellie's eyes had settled within seconds, but she was only a few months old when they had put her through the process. Soon the eager red-head was pushing her way between Stiles' legs so that she could watch too. It took a little longer, but the irises started to swirl as they changed. The dark coloring finally giving way completely to the lighter brown.
"He's ours now!" Ellie exclaims as she climbs onto the cot to pull her brother into a hug. Her pale skin a stark contrast to Jon's natural tan. Stiles can only chuckle softly at the wide eyed stare Jon gives his sister. He hadn't know what to do with her at first, though he has started seeking her out to play with he still didn't know how to handle her sometimes.
"He has always been ours, Ellie." Stiles cards his fingers reassuringly through Jon's black locks.
"But now he's really really ours. I can feel it." Her eyes flash gold for emphasis.
Stiles doesn't fight the smile that takes his face. It worked then. The wolves now recognize one another as family. "Yes. Now he's really really ours."
Ellie buries her face into Jon's hair. The younger wolf doesn't make to push her off, he seems to curl into the touch more. "He smells like you and papa."
"That will fade over time. It will always be there though just like it will always be in your scent." Stiles explains as he stands to start cleaning up.
He always made sure to do the treatments here. He told himself it was to keep kids from associating any place of the house with "treatments" if they turned out no to like them. But then Ellie had been an infant and Jon has never minded the taste of the potion. Maybe the separation was more for Stiles then the kids.
He turned to his children when he was done. Yes his children. In every way possible now. The magic had slightly altered their DNA. It was a paper with the ingredients to a potion he had found lying on his bedside table in the hotel when Derek and he had went to Ireland to get Elizabeth. Stiles has a feeling that it was a gift from a favorite teacher. The potion made Stiles and Derek the kids' biological parents. Technically they now had four parents each, but all that mattered to Derek and Stiles is the connection.
No one could challenge that the kids are not theirs. Not legally and not supernaturally. The alpha status will be passed down to Ellie naturally now. The pack wolves will recognize the kids as the alpha's pups just as Derek and the kids' wolves recognize one another as family.
"Alright pups, lets go home." Stiles scoops them both up with a kiss to their foreheads.
* * *
Derek didn't make it two steps into the house before he had an arm full of red-headed pup.
"Papa!" Ellie's squeal of joy drew a happy smile from Derek's lips.
"Were you a good girl for Daddy today?" He asks pulling her back so he can see her face.
"Uh-huh. Daddy let me watch him make the potion. Jon is ours now!" Her face lights up with the declaration. Derek wonders how long it will take for the novelty of a little brother to wear off and the two start to squall the way Derek and Laura had.
"Elizabeth! Come back, we have to finish the movie!" Vernon II calls. No one knew why the boy never used Ellie's nickname, but Derek wasn't ready to question it with scrutiny... yet.
"Coming, Vee!" Ellie squirmed until Derek set her down. He watches as she runs back into the living room.
Peeking his head in the room Derek sees a variety of adults and children sprawled around the living room watching the TV with intent. Derek took stock of who was in the room and notices that two were missing. Making his way around the house he finds his mate and son in their bathroom. Derek sniffs the air, his chest letting off a pleased rumble with the change of Jon's scent. Then he caught the smell of something else.
"What are you putting on our child?"
Stiles didn't even look up as he continues to rub the white stuff into their pup's skin. "His skin is itchy. I think its just from the magic. I know he will heal, but I wanted to make him feel better." | 9d8bbccdd54641f4a5b3c2734650affd | ['cf49ca591eee409b85294555c3e0b97d'] | Fury irrupts inside Lydia at the thought of what it implies happened. "I swear to fucking God Derek, I'm going to rip your balls off if you pushed him right back to his original state." Derek only frowns. "You of all people should be more considerate of his feelings!"
The whole pack watches the banshee tear into their alpha. Even Malia joins, allowing Stiles to have his space. Lydia opens her mouth to speak, but a pained scream cuts her off. Everyone is racing to the bathroom that the sound came from. Lydia tries opening the door, but its locked.
"Stiles! Stiles, let me in!" Lydia calls frantically.
Malia bangs on the door. "Stiles! It's Malia, let me in! Please!" Even Malia can't keep the desperation out of her voice. "I smell blood." She whispers.
Lydia's heart drops. What has he done.
"Move." Derek commands.
The girls step aside allowing Derek to kick the door in. Lydia pushes past him into the bathroom. Her hand covers her mouth as she gasps at the scene before her. The mirror shattered, Stiles leaning against the tub. Both hands sliced open with several different cuts, blood everywhere. His head rolls towards her, the smell of death is coming off of him in waves.
"He made me strangle her." He croaks. "He made me watch as my own hands squeezed the life out of her."
Lydia goes to kneel next to the broken man. "Oh, Stiles."
The man looks down at his hands. "That's not the worst part." A hollow sob leaves him. "He made me enjoy it. I actually liked watching her die. I'm a monster."
Tears prick Lydia's eyes. This is what her Stiles has to go through. Malia is kneeling next to them, towels in her hands. Without a word she starts to wrap Stiles' hands. He doesn't hiss in pain or even try to fight her. Its as if Stiles is no longer there. His eyes roll to her again.
"Thats why I'm a mistake. That's why he doesn't want me. Because I am a monster."
Lydia pushes a few strands of hair out of his face. "Stiles you are not monster."
His eyes widen. "How can you say that?" He chokes out.
Lydia gives a sad smile, tears falling down her cheeks. "Because I love you Stiles." She rubs his cheeks, he leans into the loving touch.
"She hates me, Lyds. Allison hates me. She told me to do it."
Lydia swallows. "No, Stiles. Allison doesn't hate you. What you were seeing tonight was not your Ally."
Stiles nods slowly.
"Lydia, me and Isaac can clean him up if you want to go figure out what the hell happened." Malia whispers.
Lydia turns to see Isaac standing behind her, ready to take her spot. She nods standing. Lydia goes outside the bathroom taking a deep breath. She waits until Malia and Isaac has Stiles upstairs before fixing Derek in a glare. She would give anthing if she could just scream.
"What the fuck did you do?" She stalks towards him.
"It was a drunken mistake." Derek defends. "The full moon was out and I had no control over myself."
Lydia grits her teeth in irritation. "That's your excuse?" She takes a step towards Derek, but is stopped when Jordan wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her from physically attacking their alpha.
"We all know you liked Stiles before the full moon. We could smell it on you." Erica states, clinging to Boyd the way Jordan is to Lydia.
Lydia can't begin to truly absorb everything that has happened tonight. Stiles falling apart, discovering him and Derek had sex, and that Derek pushed him away. Stiles should have talked to her about this. He should have trusted her enough to tell her.
The front door opens revealing Jack. All eyes go to the bartender.
"Jack, thank you for calling us." Liam coaxes the man farther into the room.
"I just wanted to check up on Stiles."
Lydia takes another deep breath. "Do you know anything about what happened?" She asks calmly.
"There was an older man at the bar. He bought Stiles a drink. I saw him slip something into the drink, before I could say anything Stiles was drinking."
"Do you know what he put in the drink?" Boyd asks.
Jake nods. "I took the petal out of the cup. Its a type of wolfsbane. It doesn't just affect wolves though, it can cause hallucinations with humans when consumed."
Derek swears drawing the attention back to him. "I think Peter is in town."
Lydia's heart speeds up. This is what they have been worried about. Her green orbs narrow at Derek. "He targeted Stiles because of you."
Derek bows his head in defeat. "I thought he would be too mad at me to make himself look like he was one of us."
Lydia huffs, pulling herself from Jordan's embrace. "You're a fucking idiot Derek Hale. Did it ever cross your mind that instead of pushing him away, you could have kept him close so Peter would have never had the opportunity to do this?" Derek doesn't answer. "You are going to fix this, Derek." With that Lydia heads upstairs to tend to her broken Stiles.
11. Chapter 11
"Why are you being so stubborn?" Malia huffs, throwing her hands up in frustration.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Once his cousin gets an idea in her head, she is adamant about making it happen. "Why do you think this is a good job for him?"
"Because he has a spark. He is amazing with medicine. Plus Deaton needs an assistant. I have already talked to him and he has agreed to recommend him to the training program." |
ebf4ee8877e443c3a85050e6641a65a1 | ['cf54f01273df4c4eae69f35e71bdd570'] | Something between a sob and a growl rolled through Roland’s chest as he bucked his hips a final time, hilting Jannick, knot and all. Jannick shuddered and moaned, toes curling as ecstasy washed over him and ropes of cum shot from his twitching dick. The warmth that clenched around Roland’s cock was too much for him to hold back any longer. He groaned a deep, guttural groan as he pumped the dog full of his seed. His limbs trembled as he posessively pressed his claws into Jannick’s belly.
Releasing his wrists, which were drenched in sweat and rubbed red, Roland walked Jannick backwards, collapsing onto the bed. He lapped at the tender wound he had given him as he sat on his lap, still knotted with his warm belly full of wolf cum.
Though mostly dried, Roland wiped the blood with the back of his hand before planting a kiss onto Jannick’s nose. He smiled, leaning back at a rather uncomfortable angle to return it. The bed was a little cold, but still very plush and soft to the touch. There was not much else left to do but wait on the bed and enjoy its pillowy comforts. It would take a few more minutes to unknot, but there was luckily no rush this time around.
They lay there for a while in silence, regaining their breath as they relaxed in a state of drowsy, ethereal pleasure. Yet, as much as sleep called to overtake them, a spark of adrenaline still prevailed. An idyllic land of milk and honey was but worlds away— which was not nearly as much as it sounded in this day and age. Mere meters separated the two from their ticket. Sleep could wait for sure.
3. Princess Cut from Marble
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> She was reminiscent of the archetypical governess from children’s stores he would read long ago. However, she was far too young to assume such a role, and not nearly as nurturing and cheerful from what he could presume.
The plush embrace of the bedding was not an easy indulgence to leave, once adequate time had passed. Roland lay on his back, legs tangled up in the sheets. Beside him was Jannick, half-asleep with the side of his face smushed up against the wolf’s chest. Together, they were so warm and comfortable, Jannick slightly more so than his partner, and as relaxed as they possibly could be before carrying out organized crime.
“So, what’s the window all about? I didn’t know you were into that,” Jannick croaked, reluctantly pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He yawned, stretching his arms out, which were bound to be sore like the rest of his body in a day’s time.
“Our getaway. We’ll call the shuttle over instead of taking the main exit. It’ll save us time, and there’ll be less of a chance for anyone to take note of us,” Roland said, matter-of-factly. He stood and gathered up their discarded clothing, throwing Jannick’s over to him and putting on his own.
“Oh, sweet. Good thinking.”
Roland glanced at the digital interface built into the wooden desk— at least, it appeared to be made of wood. By this time, the exhibit auction should have just begun. The excitement would sure enough keep the governor captivated while they raid his room.
“Get me a milkshake while you’re over there. I seriously need some fat on this hide, Roland… I’m wasting away, for God’s sake!” Jannick hollered, running his fingers down his flat stomach.
“Mhmm, alright,” he nodded, punching in an order to the room service application.
“You getting anything?”
“Not hungry,” Roland said plainly.
“Yeah, right. Why don’t you earn some of those calories back?” Jannick teased, and he could hear the grin on his face from his tone alone.
“I’d much rather wait until my appetite has returned to me.”
“Suit yourself,” Jannick said with a shrug. “But add a steak to that order too, will you?”
“Expensive, but alright,” he sighed.
Jannick’s tail thumped anxiously as he waited, eyes fixed on the door. He could watch a violent murder play out in front of him, and still have an insatiable craving for a hamburger. Roland was far more fickle, such that even the wrong mood could put him off his food. When lost in a deep focus, it wasn’t rare for him to forget his own hunger as well.
Once their order had arrived, Jannick leapt to his feet, nearly tripping over his own feet as he crossed the threshold and threw the door open. He gathered the tray into his arms, plopping back down onto the mattress with it in his lap. The dog shoveled pieces of steak into his mouth, barely pausing the breathe as he took sips of milkshake between bite.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Jannick said through his stuffed cheeks. “The food here is just delicious, you know.”
“I’ll have a bite, if you so insist.”
Jannick shoved a forkful into into Roland’s maw, nearly as soon as he approached him. The morsel was tender, splitting easily between the wolf’s fangs. With a sweet, earthy aroma danced the savory flavor of fats and salty, metallic juices. The steak was indeed delicious, but he simply couldn’t stomach anything more whilst under pressure.
“I’m still not certain how you manage to down an entire dish and not put on any weight, Jan.”
“High metabolism, and a little too high, I think,” Jannick huffed. “So, how’d you like it? Is it not the best steak you’ve ever tasted?”
“Sure, you were right. It’s good. Now hurry up and put your clothes back on,” Roland said, pulling the dog’s shirt over his head. “Let’s get moving.” | 81bbd0ce2fe045029e5c332c358dc128 | ['cf54f01273df4c4eae69f35e71bdd570'] | When he left the room, the girl took a seat. She could feel the cold that radiated from the glass against her skin and pulled the towel around herself more tightly, shivering. Turning away from the view outside, she admired the rest of the room itself. It was mainly black and white, with accents of deep blue. She rather liked the color blue— it was so often a calming color, as was green and earthy shades of brown. Nevertheless, she still found it hard to believe that the room would be her own.
Roland soon returned with several pieces of clothing in hand, sans her rag. He laid each out on the bed— a long sleeved sweater, sweatpants, boxers, and socks. The girl got up and inspected each item before pulling the sweater over her head. She was no stranger to clothing, though it had been a while since she had last worn them. Everything was far too big on her, especially the boxers and the pants, which were prone to slipping down if not tied tightly, but all of it still returned a sense of security that she had not felt in so long— even in spite of the anxiety-rousing scent of wolf that was laced with it.
The fabric was soft against her skin, and as she ran her hands over her limbs, her fur felt the softest and cleanest it had ever been. Only the ugly, raised lines that tainted her skin interrupted the sleekness, and she then so deeply wished she could make them disappear. They were the one part of her that she hated the most, for they reminded her of the worst moments in which she had been so desperate to reclaim control over herself, over something. The few times she could dig into her own body were the few times she could exert greater power than that of even the most demanding master, such as Governor Tyson. He had touched her in many ways, but never like Roland had done so today. He was an unusual beast that she still had yet to understand.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Roland said, approaching the door.
A cold surge of panic shot through her chest. The room no longer felt welcoming— only large and empty and alien. Thoughts that whispered throughout her mind became deafening howls. Each shadowy corner felt like an entire abyss that contained unearthly and unseen horrors. To be left in isolation was more terrifying than to be left in a confined space with a predator that could easily rip off a limb or three if he so pleased— or, if there was no better use for her, more specifically.
“Sir,” she interjected, more forcefully than intended. “Wouldn’t you like me to service you for the night?”
“No, I don’t want that.” he answered lowly, one hand over the doorknob.
“Wait, sir— please, I’ll do whatever you want,” the girl beseeched, clenching her hands into fists around the ends of her sleeves in attempts to conceal her tremors.
“I don’t… want anything,” he insisted, his voice faltering.
Roland turned to face her. He narrowed his gaze, looking her over. The girl’s ears were flat against her head as she chewed at her lip with fearful wide eyes.
“I suppose I can stay here,” he offered. “At least until you fall asleep.”
“Yes,” she answered immediately, nodding with enthusiasm.
“Alright then,” Roland said. He took a seat with his back to the door and watched as the girl climbed into the bed.
It felt the way she imagined a fluffy cloud from a painting would— so bouncy and form-fitting and comfortable. As much as the girl would want to stay awake to avoid the inevitable nightmares, she was so very exhausted. As she gave in to the lull of the night, she imagined herself laying in the warm sun beneath a side blue sky. She could almost feel the dampness of the grass against her cheek, the light midday breeze over her fur, and her daughter at her side once more. |
1f18d5128d364d5fbe36a5e31a5ab80e | ['cf93b0383f434b0d89fb34440cdea473'] | Nightmare
**Author's Note:**
> If there is a deeper meaning to this, it is beyond me. Please don't read if you are squeamish or have triggers. My tumblr is peggy-cherepaha.tumblr.com
I have just gotten out of the shower and am in the changing area. It’s just sheets hung from the ceiling by string to form crude stalls. I hear the girls in the other ‘stalls,’ chattering and giggling about the dresses they have been given. Mine is a form-fitting red gown with one shoulder strap and it is covered in glitter. None of us have had a chance to put anything on when our housemother comes by opening the curtains. The girls squeal as she explains that there are important people here, and that it’s alright for them to see us because they are women. I try to cover by breasts and crotch with my hands but they have already seen me and the other girls aren’t ashamed of their bodies so I just sit on the stepping stool that is in my changing stall and watch the women. They tell us they are from the committee for the President.
“That’s why we gave you those lovely dresses to wear, you all have the honor of meeting President Moose.” I don’t want to do this.
I’m a boy, but I don’t know if I’m the same person or not. I am not yet a teenager, but not too young, either. I am plain-looking. There are two girls with me; they call themselves my friends and are trying to tug me along with them. We are outside on a hill covered in dark, soft grass. The sky is overcast which dulls the hill even more. We are walking towards a large crowd that is cheering in excitement. They are surrounding the President. He is a felted plush that towers over the tallest people. He stands upright with stubby legs and arms. The plush antlers on one side are considerably larger than the other; it makes him ‘kooky.’ He is plush because it makes him friendly and comforting. Everyone loves him. I don’t like him.
I am up close to the President. He moves, waving and walking and nodding his head at the crowd. The girls have left me; they love the President and they don’t want to be with me when I’m being ‘negative.’ The President walks up to me and leans over me. His hulking antlers cast a shadow over me. I can see little curly strings springing out from the felt, which is usually a pale green but has turned darker when be bent over. I feel smothered by his shadow as his beady eyes stare at me. I don’t want to be here.
There is a row of tables at the edge of the crowd. They are decorated in bright colors and there are official-looking people sitting at them. They are recruitment benches, to get people to join the President. I am not allowed to join; my housemother said none of us are. I go up to one anyways so that I can turn my back to the President. The man I go up to looks right at me.
“I want to take you,” he says.
“I can’t join, my housemother…
…oh.” _He wants to take me._
He grins; the corners of his mouth stretch past his cheeks, nearly to his ears, and the rest of the skin on his face bunches up around his eyes. I don’t want to be taken.
The man makes me wear a mask. It is white and made of rubber, and depicts a screaming head, bald and covered in protruding veins. Afterwards, I am laying on the bed, my muscles tense and shaking, but I cannot move from my position. He is sitting nearby, holding a cigarette and talking to himself.
“You told me I had more time,” he says.
As I watch, a large chunk of his bare chest pops out. The flesh around the hole left behind starts oozing white, chunky pus that starts foaming as it pours down his stomach. Then a gooey black liquid gushes from the hole, quickly coating the floor. I look up to his face to see if he will react, but his head has lolled back, his jaw slack and his skin deathly pale. I turn my head away, and lay there spread out on the bed, waiting for the black liquid to cover me. I want this to end. | dfee0afe32794ae99f6f86cd7dd7a4a3 | ['cf93b0383f434b0d89fb34440cdea473'] |
Together We Make a Family
1991
“Sergeant Barnes?” The mission asked. That was not protocol, the mission was supposed to die, the mission was not supposed to say that name.
_“Sergeant Barnes! I’ve heard a lot about you from the good Captain.”_
_“You spilling my secrets, Rogers?”_
The soldier looked at the passenger. Female, middle aged, deceased on impact.
The mission was still talking. “What’s happening? How did you get here?”
More questions. The soldier doesn’t answer questions. The soldier doesn’t ask questions either.
“What’s in the trunk?” Asking a question is permissible if necessary to the mission. Confirming the contents of the trunk is necessary to the mission.
_“Come on in! Let’s talk weapons. Anything you want, I can get it. And when I say weapons, I mean a gun, not the big metal frisbee someone likes to throw around.”_
_“Hey, you made it! Anyways, it works, doesn’t it?”_
“The super soldier serum. Is that what you want? Who are you with? Who are you?”
_“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038.”_
“What did they do to you?”
_“It’s me, Buck.”_
The soldier didn’t have time for this. Kill the witness, retrieve the briefcase, return to base, mission report, chair, wipe him, start over.
_Start over._
“Why would you do this, Stark?” The soldier asked. “They’re going to make more. Why would you help them make more!”
Stark was dead. Blunt force trauma, excessive bleeding.
The soldier took the briefcase out of the trunk and strapped it to his bike. He rode in the direction the car had come from. He was going to destroy every last drop of that poison.
***
Tony had been in many strange situations in his life. Something about him just made him a magnet for weirdos. Well, it was probably the fact that he was a child genius and heir to Stark Industries. He was used to being stalked by journalists and obsessed fans, and he got into all kinds of trouble when he got drunk. But even the craziest of fans didn’t put him off like the stranger currently giving him a deranged look from across the sitting room.
The man was huge, both tall and completely buff. He was wearing a black leather jacket will all kinds of straps and buckles. The strangest part was it looked like his left arm was made of metal.
“Hey man, can I help you?”
“Where’s the lab?” Crazy dude said right away.
“Listen, how about I get you some autographed pictures and we can just-“ In an instant the guy had crossed the room and thrown Tony onto the floor, pinning his arm behind his back.
“There’s no time for this!” The guy was yelling, and steadily applying pressure to his arm. “Show me where Stark keeps his experiments right now! They’re coming!”
This was not the normal kind of obsessed stalker, this was an actually dangerous person after his dad’s work. In this kind of situation, Tony was supposed to stall for time until he could reach one of the panic buttons in the house. The self-defense instructor that gave Tony this advice had obviously never had a giant psycho with a metal arm on his back.
“In the basement, I’ll show you. You can have whatever you want.”
The guy pulled Tony up with that metal hand on his arm and gave him a shove. Tony quickly led the guy to the basement door and hoped he would make it out of this alive.
The man ended up dragging Tony around with him as he collected all of the papers and bags of mysterious fluids in the lab, meaning Tony was never close enough to any of the panic buttons. The man also pulled some bags of blue fluid out of his pockets. They had the Stark Industries emblem on them but he had no idea what any of the stuff was.
The man paused to stare at a newspaper clipping on the wall over his dad’s desk. It was a front page story of Tony graduating MIT, and how he planned to work for Stark Industries. Tony was surprised to feel tears rolling down his cheeks. Here he was, kidnapped by a man with a metal arm and all he could think of was that he was going to die without having told his dad he loved him. For all the awful things his father had said to him, he kept a newspaper clip of Tony right above his desk.
Tony was pulled from his thoughts when the man looked at him. “You’re Stark’s kid?” He asked, and Tony just nodded.
He sat Tony down in the center of the room and crouched down next to him. He held the metal arm out and the large panel on the shoulder opened.
“I need you to take out the tracker,” the man said and Tony just stared at the arm, trying to process what was happening.
“The tracker! You need to take it out before they get here!”
Tony felt like he was going into shock, because instead of bolting for the door, he leaned his head in closer to look into the mess of wires and metal bars that were inside the prosthetic arm.
“Well, I’ll need my tools, and a flashlight, and an idea of what it looks like would help,” Tony said and the man leapt up and grabbed a handful of tools that were scattered around one of the workbenches. He sat down in front of Tony and dropped the tools on the ground. The man then picked up a large pair of pliers and, before Tony knew what was happening, put the pliers in his mouth and yanked out one of his molars. |
0860869b699044c7aefaf253024c6c92 | ['cf9751ea62b0415885c459a83c256b4d'] | She suddenly stood up, her eyes flying open, gasping for breath and looked around, only she wasn't in her bathroom, she was outside in the Hogwarts gardens, the sun just rising. Andrea stood up and only then realised that her clothes were wet. The normal thing to do would be to dry herself up and find out what happened and how much time had passed but the only thing she could do was laugh. She laughed like she never laughed, her voice carrying over the gardens. After her episode ended and she stopped gasping for breath she twirled her wand and cocked her head as glowing numbers appeared before her. 5.03.1945 6:55 AM. It seemed only a few hours passed here since she showed Tom her memories. Did that mean months would pass in her time now? Is this her body? And if not what would happen to her body in the tub? She had no idea and apparently no way of finding out how to stay in one time. She didn't notice that while thinking her feet started walking and she was making her way towards the dungeons, still dripping wet, until she collided with something. Looking up she was met with the disgusted face of Malfoy. He was looking at her like she was something dirty on his shoe and any other day she would have slapped that look right off his face but now she was just so tired. And maybe out of breath. Sidestepping him, her hold on her wand tightned and she continued on her way with her eyes wide open. By the time she made it to the wall of the common room she was panting and black spots were started to appear behind her eyes. Leaning on the wall she murmured the password making the wall to slide off. There were a few Slytherins scattered in the common room that threw her weird looks but she easily spotted Tom in a corner. The black spots were bigger now and she could barely breath but she forced her legs to work making her way towards him. He looked up when she approached and she could see the shock in his eyes at her state. Andrea had enough time to whisper a croacked,"I'm sorry.", before her legs failed and she collapsed, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.
There was someone screaming and a lot of pain. Her lungs were heavy and her throat was killing her and someone should really really take the pressure of her chest. Seconds passed but they felt like years and she realised in her subcouncious that she was drowing and the only thing she could think about was Tom. A few more painful seconds and she felt the water travel up her throat and she started choking and coughing water. There was a voice screaming at her but in her daze she couldn't make out the words or who was saying them.
Her coughing fit lasted a few minutes and left her starring at the ceiling of her bathroom, her eyes unfocused. Slowly she turned her head,and she distantly noticed that she was sprawled on the cold tales that decorated the floor. Next to her, breathing as heavily as her and with a look of pure madness, sat George Weasley in all his glory. Andrea opened her mouth to say something, anything, i didn't want to die, but her throat felt like sandpaper and every breath felt like knives piercing her.
Instead she turned her head towards the ceiling, her thoughts elsewhere.
Soon enough the monotone color of the ceiling lurred her into sleep. She hoped she would go back to Tom.
Unfortunately when she woke up, she wasn't in Hogwarts. She was tucked in firmly in the bed sheets and she sighed deeply as she threw the covers off her, the cold making her shiver.
In the kitchen George was reading a muggle newspaper, though it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention, his mind elsewhere.
"I didn't try to kill myself, you know.", she said casually as she started to make some coffee.
"Really?",he asked in a dry tone, still not looking up from the paper. Andrea made a noncommital sound and ripped the paper from his hands, forcing him to look up at her,"I can't explain but it's definitely not what you think."
"Really? Because it seems like i came to see how you were doing and you were half-drowned in your own bathtub. Please tell me how it looks like because i don't see anything else!", he had stood up during his small rant, his voice hard and low.
She turned her back on him and contemplated the idea to tell him everything as she poured the coffee in two cups. On one hand he could help her or he could commit her. In the back of her mind she noticed that her wand was missing and for a moment panic installed in her bones, but the feeling was dissipated as soon as it appeared. This was George. She trusted him to have her back on the battlefield she could trust him with this.
And so she told him everything.
By the end his eyebrows had relocated in his hairline "That's the truth. Wether you believe me or not that's your problem."
"I never heard of anything like this. Are you sure..., he paused for a few seconds, are you sure it's not just an illusion?"
"I thought about that obviously but i couldn't find a spell that resembles these...incidents."
The kitchen lapsed in silence, George starring thoughtfully in his coffee like it could give him the answers.
Suddenly a cold tremor made its way up her back and she involuntary gasped.
She blinked. The kitchen slidded out of focus. | f6a1c1a6e0af4df5bd3094e69795d676 | ['cf9751ea62b0415885c459a83c256b4d'] | Wreak Havoc
Remus Lupin was the mastermind of all the pranks the Marauders did. Who would suspect mild mannered Remus to come up with the most insane prank ideas? No one that’s who.
Peter was the scout. He always had an easier time fading in the background, gathering information about the spot where they would place the prank, the people they targeted (years later when he became a spy for the Dark Lord he would consider this to be his training, after all who would think Peter Pettigrew to be capable of being a spy?) It got even easier after they became Animagi because Hogwarts was full of rats. He became so accustomed to being ignored and glossed over that he sometimes wondered if anyone even knew who he really was (sometimes he forgot too).
James and Sirius were the power behind the prank, James with transfiguration and Sirius with charms (he could alter spells like nobody’s business with a bit of time to work out the kinks). And James was always a powerhouse, his transfigurations lasted longer, his curses inflicting more damage than normal (his cutting curse was capable of decapitation if he wasn't careful).
They also came up with the best cover stories or provide diversions when they needed to distract the teachers. Because it was always James and Sirius the teachers first mention when they talk about the Marauders (and they thought they had them pegged but they forgot James' mother was a Black and Sirius, though a Gryffindor, was a Slytherin at his core).
Remus was the brain behind everything. He chose their targets and decided when and how they would strike. James and Sirius were divas, they wanted the attention, they wanted the school to know they were behind the prank but when Remus was behind them no one could figure who did it (one time they managed to convince the teachers and the school that a group of Slytherins were behind the prank and did it so masterfully that even the Slytherins were convinced they made the prank and then forgot about it).
When they needed potions for the prank he was the one who brewed them in a forgotten classroom, who spent hours inventing new ones or altering others for their purposes (it took him a lot of trial and error, and explosions, before he became good at it and in their seventh year, when Lily started dating James, she would join and help).
His pranks could be compared to karma (if you believed in such a thing), in contrast to the attacks on Slytherins that James and Sirius did. Remus believed in justice and fairness above all so every prank he was behind would be just what you deserved. He changed tactics in seventh year when the war finally reared its ugly face, and while they still weren't cruel and overly embarrassing for the target, they gained an edge that they didn't have before (they don't talk about the "war" that took place in February between them and the Slytherins that needed the interference of Dumbledore to be stopped).
McGonagall made him Prefect in the hope that he could rein in James and Sirius but she didn’t realize that it was usually James and Sirius who needed to rein in Remus. Though it seemed that Dumbledore knew because come seventh year James became Head Boy (Remus asked him when he came to teach DADA if he knew but all he got was a smile and twinkling eyes).
Years later when Teddy Lupin comes to Hogwarts and is sorted into Hufflepuff McGonagall thinks that she dodged a bullet until one morning the Great Hall is filled with kittens and she realizes with dawning horror that she made a great mistake (Teddy, after all, is the son of a Marauder and a woman who, for one week, came to class with the face of the professor who was teaching the class, and the less said about his godfather the better).
When James Sirius is born she puts her head in her hands and decides that she will retire the day he gets his letter (she doesn’t). |
7e66075c792941558fe60c7e8c5595cd | ['cf9a596df8ec4ad3adf39fcd2986faca'] | "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't take things so seriously. I'm sure we'll get on famously next time we meet in the court room."
It's peppered with sarcasm, and that just makes Palmer grin harder. Alan grits his teeth and gestures to the door.
"It's been a pleasure as always, but I have work to do, so if you wouldn't mind?"
Palmer folds his jacket over his arm and nods to Alan. Alan inclines his head awkwardly, his muscles refusing to cooperate into making his movements smooth.
"You coming fishing with Denny and me tomorrow? I know how you like grasping your rod. We'll have ourselves a blast, that's what we'll have."
"I'm afraid I deplore nature, and whilst I'm willing to put up with it for a time for Denny's sake, since he has you, I plan to stay here and enjoy all the comforts of civilisation."
"Naw, you should come, Al. Besides, sometimes Denny's convinced you're there when you're not. Might be easier on the old guy if he weren't confused about that. I like the old guy, that's what I do."
Well that was a punch. Alan's sure he's not making it up. It takes a special kind of bastard to lie about your mutual friend's progressive illness. Increasingly often he'd start a conversation with Denny and end up with the ground falling out from under you as you realise he's not talking to you, and if he is, it isn't today. He must have shown a reaction to the hit, because Palmer looks strangely tenderly at him.
"I'll call at your hotel for you at six. I've got a spare pair of waders I got from an old boyfriend, he was a bit soft round the middle too, that's what he was, they should fit you a treat."
Alan nods and returns to his work, wondering which of his karmic fuck-ups Palmer is pay back for.
Alan is cold, bored and desperately wishing he'd brought something to read. He's standing awkwardly with the rod, too nervous to move around with the strong current and slippery rocks, and desperately hoping nothing bites. Denny is roaring with frustration and practically thrashing the water with his rod, at least he's having a good time. Melvin Palmer is standing surefooted in the current, smiling beatifically as he casts his line out into the river. He looks at home out here, like he could take nature herself in hand with just a flick of his wrist. Not a pasty city boy, very out of his element and desperately pining for concrete.
"Hey, Al, I think I got one!" crows Palmer.
"Got one what?" says Denny, skimming stones, his fishing rod lying forgotten.
Palmer reels in the fish, whooping and giving honest to god 'Yee haw's as he wrestles with the line. Denny starts whooping too and applauds as the foot long, shining, silver fish is thrown onto the bank.
"That's a beaut, that's what that is!" exclaims Palmer, gathering up the line and holding the still flicking fish suspended. "We're gonna have ourselves some good eating tonight, that's what we'll have!"
"Wow, did you see that, Alan? That was incredible! We should go fishing some time!"
Alan freezes, blinking slowly and halting the faltering path he'd been making to stop Danny's rod from being washed away.
"Denny...?"
"What, I was joking!"
Palmer unhooks the fishes mouth, places it in the ice chest in the back of the rented truck and stands surveying the river as though he owns it. Alan swears to god he can see beams of pride shining off him. Alan snorts a little and tries to cast his own line. He falls over.
"Careful there, Al-buddy!" shouts Palmer as he dashes across to help Alan to his feet again. Pride wounded and soaking wet, Alan shakes Palmer's helping grip off as soon as he is vertical and begins to stalk back to land. A firm hand claps him on his shoulder.
"No need to get sore because you went and fell on your hiney. I'll tell you what, I'll help you catch a fish! I love helping people, that's what I do!"
Alan is glad for the cold water because his blood almost boils at that. Palmer laughs again and pats him on the shoulder. Denny, damn him, is casting his line again happily. Alan doesn't want to disrupt his fun so he turns back to the river and attempts to cast his line. He flicks it back and Palmer bursts into gales of laughter. It's incredibly offputting and Alan doesn't feel he could pull off any glares related to wounded dignity when he's standing in borrowed waders that are already filled with water and a silly hat that Denny insisted was essential.
"You look like a landed fish yourself there, Al." chortled Palmer, causing Denny to smirk a little. "Look, I'll show you, you gotta put your hands here, throw it back like..." and Palmer is standing behind him, guiding the rod. Alan wonders why he thinks of that goddamn movie cliche of teaching the golf swing. Palmer isn't lingering, and his hands don't make contact with Alans, but all Alan does is feel incredibly awkward and aware of his body. He turns to face Palmer, aware that their faces will be inches apart. Then he looks. He asks the question with his eyes and the only answer he reads in Palmer's clear blue eyes is disappointment that he asked the question.
"I think you've just about got it there, Al; why don't you toss that son-of-a-bitch in again and see what you get?" | d2ca45f5213a4154b48de4fc312c21e2 | ['cf9a596df8ec4ad3adf39fcd2986faca'] |
That's What You Are
Alan doesn't drink alone. He may need to stoop to ever more desperate levels to get that company, but he spends his evenings in bars with older women, skin going papery around the creases. They have eyes as sad as his and very little personality, just sad, sultry remarks that lead to sad, lingering, dignified sex. Alan wonders where the fun went from his life. The booming laughter from the other end of the bar causes him to crease his brow, slightly pertubed.
A cheerful booming voice comes from the other end of the bar, a rich southern twang.
"Al! Hey, Todd, did you ever meet my buddy Al! He's a hoot, that's what he is!"
Alan feels his eyes show the full level of disdain, disappointment and nausea inspired by Melvin Palmer. He stands there larger than life, a rugged tanned face, blue eyes and a shit eating grin. It wouldn't be so infuriating but Palmer's so obviously delighted to see him. Palmer keeps his chunky, unreasonably rough hand pointing towards his companion. Alan arranged his face into what he hoped was a polite, amused puzzlement.
"A pleasure." he says insincerely, shaking hands with the unremarkable man. If Alan had time for ordinary people, he would have feel bad about slighting the man to tick off Melvin Palmer.
"We were just going to go get dinner when I said, Todd, that's my buddy Al, that's who that is! You've got to meet him, he's a hoot, you'll have a blast! Todd here's a huge fan of your cases."
Alan might not ordinarily have taken so long to put everything together, but it takes a moment. The hands resting intimately on the small of backs, the light touches to shoulders, the way that a brief glance could become a basking look. It was so at odds with the pure Texas of the rest of his image that it tickles Alan to a chuckle.
"Well, I do always enjoy talking with Palmer. I do always find him..." a small pause to allow the many possibilities roll over his tongue like a particularly tannic red wine, " a hoot."
Alan followes it up with a dead eyed, watery smile. Todd looks uncomfortable. He looks to Palmer for reassurance, and shifts away awkwardly when he sees an equally dead eyed but slightly more steely smile on his face. Palmer reaches out and laces his hand with Todd's; it makes them a comfortable sort of fortress. It occurrs to Alan to wonder where the lady he'd been sharing drinks with was. She seems to be sucking the drink through the straw as fast as she can. Perhaps it would be possible to save the evening if he acts fast, but his hackles are raised now. He raises his eyebrows challengingly. Palmer gives a soft chuckle. Alan sees the warning in his eyes. He isn't sure why it makes him feel a little bit cold somewhere at the base of his spine.
"I sure am glad you appreciate my company; it's such a fine thing when a man has buddies like you. Always so friendly and courteous, that's what you are!"
He seems to be spitting a little. Alan is strangely satisfied he's managed to land a blow, whilst also feeling a little bad for the guy who was trying desperately to get himself somewhere else. Alan swirls his drink and tried to look pained and thoughtful. He looks up, tilting his head a little and speaking as though he was finally deciding to tear aside the curtains of artifice.
"Why did you come to talk to me, Palmer?" He speaks the name like the cracking of old paper, -a dry, weary, slightly sad speech. "You have to know that I don't like you, that I hold you in nothing but contempt and..."
It's Todd that actually cuts him off, turning decisively towards Palmer, resting a hand on his chest and looking at him with a clear sort of disappointment.
"Come on. Like the man says, why talk to him?"
There's a moment. Alan wonders what they're saying to eachother without words. He can see a dreadful openness for a moment; Palmer's relaxed jaw, his cheeks drooping from their usual rosy apples. The man's hand falls slowly from Palmer's chest and Alan realises he's been staring. He tries to look politely curious. The lines in Palmer's face disappear as the huge, larger than life beam is pushed back into place.
"Well, it's been a pleasure as always, Al. You're definitely a hoot. Say hi to Denny for me, and that other fellow, the one who purrs? He's a hoot, that's what he is!"
He clocks Alan with a casual salute and leaves with the same swagger he always walks with. Alan needs more to drink. The woman is gone, but he can't find it in himself to care. He sits and feels a little less happy with the universe and just a little bit angry.
It's raining and it's been a long time since the offices of Crane, Pool and Schmidt have been barred to them. Denny's conservatory isn't quite as good as the balcony, but it does. Denny's mind is filled with soap operas, quiz shows and fishing. He says his maid is hot, but Alan has seen her. She's fifty, dumpy and has a face pocked with acne scars. At least Denny might be in with a chance. They drink good whiskey and it swells in their mouth like the raw sound of a violin beginning to play. The cigar smoke falls down his windpipe like a dirty, gritty chocolate. The woody taste strangely filling. They savour it and exchange glances full of mutual appreciation. Alan feels a little incomplete.
"You know, you look lonely Alan. That new firm's not good for you, you should quit. We could go fishing!"
“I'm self employed, Denny.” says Alan quietly. Denny shrugs, points to his head and mutters 'Mad cow'. |
ab8db3df4f9d40c58a559c0ba85403f3 | ['cfb5b47a8eb24726b8528029a1e654ac'] | "Of course. Bye Frankie."She smiled. I chuckled on the outside at her calling me Frankie but on the inside I was throwing a glass bottle at her.
"Morning sonny."The man that must have been Mr Lockhart smiled at me as I got in the passenger serat. I had never been in such a flash car.
_: :2) mr Lockhart is it?"I asked him.
"No. Call me Steven."He held his hand out for me to shake. I took it and almost gasped at how soft his hands were. They were so fucking soft. I put my seatbelt on and looked up at the house. Lily and Claire were in the front window waving at me furiously. More tears welled up in my eyes as I waved back.
As the car pulled away I couldn't help shake the feeling that that was the last time I would see my two best friends. I ignored it and looked ahead as we started driving a way I had never been before.
-time lapse-
"This is your room. You have to share it with two other boys I'm afraid. Mrs Macy did say to give you your own room but we're short of those at the moment sorry."Steven said as he opened the door to a room with dark red walls and three beds, one of which was bare.
I took one step in and dumped my bag on the bare bed. The room smelt like cologne and cum. Great. I had probably intruded on to dickheads that watched porn and jacked off together. Perfect.
"Lunch is at half past 12 so whenever you're ready just come down to meet everyone."He smiled and left me to unpack. There was a set of drawers underneath the window on the far side of the room. I walked over to it and started looking for an empty drawer. I opened the middle one and was about to close it but I stopped when I spotted something familiar. I pulled out the black t-shirt and stared at it.
Never in my life had I met another person that liked greenday. Now I was sharing a room with someone that had an american idiot t-shirt. I folded it back up and closed the drawer feeling happy in anticipation of meeting this guy.
I emptied my clothes out into the empty drawer below then sat down on my bed and started to assess the situation.
I was in a place I didn't know filled with people I didn't know. The two people I did know were far away and I had no fucking idea how to get back to them. My only chance was the boy with the greenday top.
I looked over at the two beds, trying to figure out which one his would be. Oine of them had a white duvet cover and was made up nicely. There was a book on the bedside table and I could just see some pjs peeking out from under the pillow. The other bed was completely messy with a black duvet and an ashtray on the bedside table. Under there were empty beer cans and bottles and cigareete butts. I think I found my guy.
I jumped as a kid slammed the door open and stared at me angrily.
"Uhh hey?"I tried.
"What the fuck Steven?! I told you I don't want to share a fucking room!"The kid screamed over his shoulder. I stared at him uncertainly. What a fucking nutjob. He already shared a room.
"Jack I fucking told you yesterday this was happening but you were too fucking obssessed with your stupid girlfriend!"I heard Steven yell back. Jesus christ. Jack glared over his shoulder at Steven who must have been down the hallway. He looked back at me and walked in, slamming the door behind him.
"So kid. What's your name?"He asked politely. My mouth opened and closed with no noise coming out. What the fuck was up with this guy?
"I asked you what your fucking name was!"He yelled and took a step closer. I didn't even see it coming. His fist collided with my jaw and made my lip split instantly.
"Fuck."I coughed out the hot metallic blood allk over my favourite fucking t-shirt.
"Oh is that it? Is your name fuck?"He grinned at me. I glared at him and stood up. I wasn't going to live like this anymore. Moving away from that school and home was supposed to be the end of it.
"Fucking hit me again and see what happens."I spat out. He laughed quietly and brought his fist back and smiled at me. Right before he started swinging I spat the blood in my mouth at him, hitting him square in his face. He swung at me blindly but I caught his fist in my hand and shoved him back until he hit the wall, smacking his head.
"You little punk!"He screamed at me and came towards me but was held back by Steven.
"Nice shot Frank. Now no more of this. Jack you should know better than to cause fucking fights.He growled down at the fuming Jack. He rolled his eyes and shook himself free of Steven.
"You better fucking watch your back."He said and jabbed a finger in my chest. I shot daggers at his back as he walked away.
"Nice going there."Steven said.
"Wy didn't you come in earlier and sop him?"I asked as I sat down and wiped away the dried blood.
"You'll find that this place is very different to your previous home. Everyone here is tough as guts over being abandoned and won't take shit from anyone. I wanted to see how well you could defend yourself."
I stared at him before answering,"And? How well did I do?"
"Pretty damn good. Jack is considered the second roughest in the house by some of the kids." | fefa3e93089447ffbcda1541bcece26d | ['cfb5b47a8eb24726b8528029a1e654ac'] | "Up next we've got My Chemical Romance!"Di called outside. The bathroom was hot and stuffy with all 5 of us in there and the sound of Di's voice shouting through the microphone and the crowd on the otherside of the wall, it somehow made everything worse.
"Come on guys, we're up."Gerard sighed as he fluffed his hair in a ridiculously cute way and strutted out of the bathroom.
"Frank did you blow Gerard in the bathroom?"Mikey watched Gerard go looking confused.
"Nope."I smiled at him and followed Gerard.
Gerard was already at the stage. He was leaning against the side talking to- Ryan. What the fuck? Gerard looked angry but satisfied. Ryan looked embarrassed and annoyed. What the hell were they talking about? I squeezed through the crowd and slowly creeped up to them to eavesdrop. It flopped. I couldnt hear what they were saying from where I was standing and if I got any closer they would notice me. I glanced behind me and saw the rest of the guys moving through the crowd as well.
I sighed and took the last few steps to reach them and immediately regretted it.
"Frank can settle this."Gerard sighed and turned to me,"Who is better at giving blowjobs? Me or him?"
"I- are you serious? I'm not answering that."I looked at the both of them, completely flabbergasted.
"Come on, I wont be offended."Gerard waggled his eyebrows at me.
Ryan looked like he didnt want to be here but he was standing his ground.
"Are you actually wanting an answer?"
"Yes."Ryan and Gerard both chorused.
"Fuck okay um... Honestly? It's been a while since you gave me one Gee. And Ryan? I try not to remember anything that we did."
"I'll change that tonight."Gerard grabbed me round the waist and pulled me closer to him.
"Deal."I smiled.
"Right. I'm not needed here anymore."Ryan sighed,"Good luck guys. I heard that someone from Reprise Records is hiding in here."Ryan waved as Gerard and I started grinning again.
"Honest to god, one of you got blown."Mikey looked at our faces as the finally burst through the crowd.
"Frank's getting blown tonight."Gerard kissed me on the cheek and climbed up on the stage to cheers.
"Gross."Bob sighed. He pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket and followed him.
"What are we even playing tonight?"I asked as I hung Daisy over my shoulder.
"Uh I'm not sure. I'll ask Gee."Ray lay his guitar down on the stage, climbed up, picked it up again, and went to Gerard.
Mikey and I climbed on stage as well and stood in our place.
"Whats up guys?!"Gerard shouted into the mic,"Now, Frank over here, he has just started working here! Buy his coffees and keep this place going so we can keep playing okay?"
The crowd laughed and cheered.
"Ray has told me that we dont know what we're playing tonight. So what do you guys think we should play?"
There were shouts of American Idiot and Cancer and something else but it was mainly American Idiot.
"How about this. Would you like it if we played a new song for you? Frank you havent actually heard this yet because I wrote it for you but we've managed to get it finished."Gerard smiled at me.
"I think you should play it."I smiled at him.
Gerard walked over to me and said without a mic,"Beware, its the music the guys were working on for a while but the lyrics I wrote when I was angry at you and shit..."
"Oh this ought to be interesting."I smiled and sat down on the stage to watch.
"Frank, we're playing it last."Gerard held his hand out for me to take. I blushed slightly as he hauled me up. Thankfully at that point the lights came on and blinded us for a moment.
"Alright! Tonight! We are playing American Idiot! Last Caress! And our special new song!"Gerard shouted. I smiled to myself as I put Daisy back over my shoulder. And then we were off. The first two songs past by in a blur. I was covered in sweat and my eye liner was running down my face like I had been crying but I didnt care. I was insanely happy right now. Gerard was happy. Mikey was happy. Ray was happy. Bob was happy. We were all ridiculously happy up here.
"Alright! A brand new song! This song is called Demolition Lovers!"Gerard took a step back as Ray started playing softly. I sat down and watched happily. It went on for about 20 seconds before Gerard started singing,"Hand in mine into your icy blues and then I'd say to you we could take to the highway with this trunk of amunition too. I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets."Gerard's voice was hoarse but beautiful.
"I'm trying... I'm trying to let you know just how much you mean to me. And after all the things we put each other through. And I would drive on to the end with you. A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full and I feel like there's nothing left to do but prove myself to you. And we'll keep it running. But this time! I mean it! I'll let you know just how much you mean to me! As snow falls on desert sky until the end of everything!"Gerard's voice became more scratchy.
I couldn't help but shiver as the lyrics hit me. Gerard had been really upset. More upset than I thought.
"I'm trying! I'm trying to let you know how much you mean! As days fade! And nights grow! And we go cold!"Gerard was barely moving as Ray thrashed about behind him. This whole song was just beautifully haunting. It gave me chills. |
a82cfa5478824abfa997b06f1861247e | ['cfbf7f0034a5481bbc9d335501466cfe'] |
Body Language of Liars and Saints
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> written for emerald_embers, for the Five Acts Meme (round six!).
>
> And if you're wondering where the rest of the avengers are? They might be having an orgy elsewhere, but most likely, they're probably trying to deal with what happens when the Hulk gets hit by sex pollen, okay? They're busy. Just roll with it.
Loki’s arms were strong, really strong, which Steve probably would have guessed if he’d given himself any time to really _think_ about it. Loki was tall, and pretty damned talented at fight, not to mention Thor’s brother; of course he was also super- (or Asgardian God-) strong.
That didn’t explain what Loki was doing, aside from licking at Steve’s jawline in a way that should have been weird, but instead just felt really sexy.
“What are you doing?” Steve gasped, only it came out sort of like a moan, his voice way too high and breathy. His hands were clenched tight over Loki’s hips, holding them together, and even that felt way too good.
“Breaking an enchantment,” Loki whispered, breath hot in Steve’s ear, and Steve shuddered in response.
“I,” he stammered, chest heaving as he tried to drag in a breath. Why was he so warm? Why wasn’t he pushing Loki away?
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Loki continued, dragging his teeth over the cords of his neck. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
\--
Loki’s hand was cupping him through his pants and Steve was moaning into his mouth, his hips snapping forward when Loki nipped at his lips and his hand squeezed at the same time. It was hot, too hot, it felt like his skin was on fire only it didn’t hurt, not really.
Loki’s mouth was wet and warm, opening up when Steve kissed him.
Hands pushed at his cowl, dragged it back and away from his face, fingers mussing his hair. Steve decided that was a good idea, really, so he pulled at the ties to Loki’s armor, and when that didn’t work he pulled harder, dropping the pieces that came off in his hands and yanking until he could feel bare skin.
His hands on Loki’s skin was a rush, dizzying, like the rush of adrenaline from jumping off a building, like gunning the motor on his bike so the world blurred around him. He couldn’t quite remember, but this must have been what being drunk was like, this warm blurry feeling, heat and the wet slick sounds their mouths made sliding together.
\--
He was talking, saying things into the curve of Loki’s neck as he pushed in, hot and tight and wet. Loki’s eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between his teeth and he was making these sounds, soft little sounds that might have been pain, and maybe he was a villain but Steve didn’t want to _hurt_ him, not like this, gripping tight at Loki's hips, leaving purpling finger-shaped marks in his wake.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said and he rocked back a little bit, pushing back in nice and gentle and Loki made a harsh, angry sound, wrapping one leg around Steve’s hips and grinding up.
Okay, yeah, Steve could work with that, he’d just -- move, then, hard and fast, even though Loki was really tight and Steve wasn’t sure this was going to last more than a minute. Loki moaned, softly, hips tilting up to give Steve better access, and that was almost too much.
He cupped a hand around Loki’s shoulder, stopping him from sliding back when Steve thrust in, and then he licked at Loki’s collarbone and mouthed at his neck and bit him, teeth sinking into soft skin. Loki hissed at him, tangling his long fingers into Steve’s hair and dragging him up and into a kiss, desperate and a little bit too hard, their teeth clacking together.
“Yeah,” Steve panted, licking at Loki’s mouth in between kisses. “Yeah, that’s good, that’s really good. God, Loki, you’re fucking amazing, so goddamned tight--” and Loki was moaning against his mouth, bucking up into every thrust, fucking his tongue into Steve’s.
\--
Up against the wall, fucking Loki with short, frantic thrusts, Steve came with a quiet groan, biting at the juncture of Loki’s neck to muffle the noise. He couldn’t stop gasping, and his knees almost gave out but Loki grabbed him, fingers tangled painfully in his hair, one leg wrapped around Steve’s waist and he growled something at Steve -- probably a threat, possibly not.
His dick was still hard, pressing up against Steve’s stomach, flushed and full.
It took a minute for Steve to get his breath back, then he leaned back far enough to get a hold of Loki’s cock, hard and leaking a little bit at the tip. Loki’s face was flushed, eyes pressed shut and his head tilted to the side. He was still making sounds, though, little bitten-off moans and gasps, and Steve could feel the way his whole body clenched a little bit when Steve stroked his cock. It was -- interesting, in a way, because Loki’s whole body was responding to every little flick of his wrist, and Loki was still tight around where Steve was inside of him.
Loki groaned when Steve rubbed his thumb over the head of his prick, and again when Steve tightened his grip and started to move a little faster.
And it wasn’t like Steve had even really gotten soft, so he gritted his teeth and started to move, groaning because Loki was tight and hot and it was too much, almost, except it wasn’t enough at all.
\-- | 5fbd86d3a9174025925cf037f696672e | ['cfbf7f0034a5481bbc9d335501466cfe'] | "Right," Lucy says and stomps off, furious. Stupid self-righteous arrogant git, with his 'I don't like you' speech as if she'd ever thought that he did. As if she were as thick as he is.
"Sod all of this," she says, and then she turns around and heads back to the suite to talk to Tom.
-
"What?" Tom says, eyes kind of ridiculously huge.
"I want to have a threesome with Simon," Lucy repeats, and then she looks down at her lunch menu and frowns. "Do you think pasta is too heavy to sit well for lunch?"
"Why?"
"Because it's quite a lot of carbs, actually, and I usually order garlic bread as well," Lucy says, frowning, because usually Tom just tells her to eat what she wants.
"No, I mean why -- the other thing. If you want pasta, then order the pasta, we can go for a walk on the beach and you'll be fine as long as you don't intend on fighting a riptide. Why do you want to..." Tom trails off, looking deeply uncomfortable.
"What?" Lucy asks. "You think it's because he's better looking than you, or because he's black, or because I secretly am harboring feelings for him? No, Tommy," And she closes her menu and lays it on the table. "I just felt bad because I sort of made it impossible for him to bring someone with him this weekend and -- I guess I felt guilty about coming between him and what he wanted," and that was the truth on more than one level.
"You want to pity-fuck my best friend," Tom says.
"Well, yeah."
Tom stares at her, and then he closes his menu. "Should I be worried?" He asks, kind of wryly. But he's not cringing or retreating into himself, he's got a half-smile on his face the way he does when he knows that the punch line has been delivered and the audience is laughing.
"No. I want _you_ to pity-fuck him, too," Lucy says, shrugging and taking another sip of her mimosa. "But only if I get to watch."
-
Tuesday afternoon they stumble into work, jet-lagged and hung over from drinking on the plane (hey, it was the last of their vacation and they deserved a little bit of giggly fun, as far as Lucy is concerned). Everyone else looks happy to see them, Darius giving Lucy a soft punch in the shoulder, careful not to put any real force behind it. "Missed ya, Luce," He says.
She rolls her eyes at him, half-dragging him to the writer's room because she's got a thousand different ideas to work on, and she's got a day to get them all on paper if she wants to see them in the dress.
Behind them, Harriet is giving Simon a hug. "How was your vacation?"
Lucy looks over her shoulder to see how he responds.
He pauses, trying for nonchalance. "I guess it was a'ight," he says, although the grin sort of gives him away. |
a5bc906995bd4f58a6eaa5007ef59e60 | ['cfd6e87d053a42c08ede206d5de9dd30'] | but he had a pride flag pin stuck to his coat which looked absolutely adorable and jake, oh jake, he wore a leather jacket which was- well, i’ll just say how holt and rosa described.)
holt: it is just too colorful.
rosa: you look like you’re covered with all the flavors of ice cream candy.
jake: alright fine, but i’m sticking with this.
rosa: so i asked around and there are usually a lot of people at these things so we just have to do our best to blend in and not be noticed by anyone (looks at jake) which maybe be tougher than i thought.
holt: also, our CI said that our suspect and his entire gang identity each other with a tattoo on their arm which they are supposed to get when they join the gang.
jake: ooh, is it like their death mark?
holt:(rolls his eyes) yes.
jake:(squeals) man, everything about this guy is so cool. honesty I’m a little inhibited by him.
rosa: jake.
jake: yep. sorry. you were saying, sir.
holt: (continues) apparently, this gang keeps this tattoo covered with their clothes so we will have to be a 100 times more vigilant.
rosa and jake: got it.
3. pride makes us proud!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> [they leave for the pride parade. when they get there, they see the entire park is colorful and beautiful. all three of them are really excited but remember they were there to do their job.]
(jake pics up a flag from the counter, rosa and holt hesitate)
jake: come on, you guys.
holt: (softly) we have to keep an eye out for our criminal. we cannot participate, peralta.
rosa: but sir, this is what everyone does. we don’t wanna blow our cover, right?
(rosa and holt join jake to enjoy the event)
[wherever they went, the people recognized rosa and greeted her with smiles and hugs. jake knew holt went to pride parades but he never knew rosa went to them too. in fact, holt and jake even had a conversation about it.
-flashback-
jake: (sarcastic and angry) so, your instagram tells me you went to pride-
holt: oh yes, i did. remember i didn’t come in for work, yesterday?
jake: WITHOUT ME?!
holt: i didn’t know you wanted to go.
(jake scoffs angrily)
(jake waits for holt to say he will take him the next time but holt just gets back to work; jake sees this and gets annoyed)
jake: sooooooo...
holt: so what?
(jake makes a face because he knows holt knows what he means)
holt: fine. i will take you along the next time.
jake: (with immense happiness) yes!
-flashback over-
[all of them sit down because they’re tired.]
[he decides to ask rosa the answer to his confusion.]
rosa: i come here most of the times, when i don’t have any open cases.
jake: (surprised)you do?
rosa: also, i have a ‘gram to support the lgbtq family.
jake: (even more surprised) you do? (opens phone) follow!
(rosa smiles)
rosa: i really feel at home here. before i came out to the squad, only these people knew my truth and somehow that comforted me. (looks at jake sweetly smiling at her) and now that u have told you guys, (voice cracks)it feels even better.
jake: aww, rosa.
(jake and rosa hug-soft music)
holt: what’s wrong?
rosa: (clears her throat) um, nothing.
(jake nods)
(he goes to bump her fist, she rolls her eyes, scoffs but still bumps his fist.)
(holt looks at this and smiles)
holt: i have always wondered how someone like you (points to rosa) became friends with someone like him(points at jake)?
holt: (points to jake) no offense.
jake: rude.
rosa: you really wanna know?
(holt smiles affirmatively)
jake: alright.
so we were both new to the academy but still had managed to fit into our own , (emphasizing) difficult, groups.
rosa: then, one day we had this mock case we had to solve and we were divided into groups and our groups were neck to neck.
jake: and whoever lost, had to do a 1000 push-ups.
and we both were very competitive and great at trash talks too.
-flashback-
(while running to do tasks)
rosa: you suck.
jake: no, you suck
-flashback over-
jake: just before the last task, i saw rosa sitting away from everyone else, in a corner and as i went near her, i saw that she was crying.
i didn’t know what to do and figured maybe she was being a sore loser because she had a couple of points less than me.
rosa: he flirted with the guy who kept scores
jake: you could’ve too?
rosa: yeah, what was i thinking? trying to be honest?
jake: well, that’s the price you gotta pay for being honest.
(rosa scoffs)
(jake smiles)
jake: (continues) so anyway, i went and sat right next to her and thought of saying something that would help.
-flashback-
jake: you lose, sucker.
rosa: (crying voice) i don’t care about that, jake. my girlfriend just broke up with me.
jake: (sadly) over the phone?
rosa: over a text.
jake: oh my god, i’m so sorry rosa.
rosa: ugh, it’s okay.
jake: (trying to lighten the mood) i know it’s a little too soon, but i know someone i can fix you up with. she’s my best friend from school, Gina.
rosa: maybe you could( goes to hug him but actually starts running to do the task) when you lose, sucker!
(within minutes, jake understood that he had been tricked and tried to get up but couldn’t. rosa planned it well. she stuck a lot of gum where she knew jake would sit to console her.
till the time jake could untangle himself from the bounds of gum, she was wayyy ahead with the tasks they had to do and so she won. | f411f4ca808348c1a4c1984085f15eb2 | ['cfd6e87d053a42c08ede206d5de9dd30'] | rosa: yeah okay. but first things first, we gotta get rid of the evidence (points at the empty container of noodles)
(gina picks it up and throws it in the dustbin)
Gina: there!
Rosa: I meant wash it up so terry won’t know that they ate the noodles.
Gina: oh. it’s done, anyway. let’s go eat.
(no sooner did Rosa and Gina walk into the living room, than the doorbell rang
Rosa opened the door while Gina put the dishes on the table)
Rosa: hey terry, we were just gonna eat dinner.
Gina: (from the kitchen) it’s meatloaf night!
Terry: Terry loves meatloaf! put out one more plate, Gina!
(the three of them sit down to eat dinner)
Terry: so what did you guys do today?
Gina: i taught cagney and lacey
to play cwazy cupcakes -
Rosa: and they taught her a hack
Terry: seriously, they did?
Gina: and when Rosa lost, she broke a table lamp.
Terry: What?
Rosa: oh yeah, i get very competitive. you don’t wanna win when i’m around.
Terry: (terrified) (looks around) but you guys seem to have managed without, maybe burning the house? (looks at them hopefully)
Gina: oh yeah, when i started making the meatloaf-
Rosa: oh yeah, we managed.
Terry: (looks suspiciously)
ok, as long as the kids are happy and taken care of.
(they finish dinner and sit on the sofa and a little while later)
Terry: (goes to the fridge) guys, i’m thirsty. do you guys also want water?
Rosa: yeah, i’ll have a bottle.
Terry: did you guys see a bowl of noodles here? that’s sharron’s special recipe and i had begged her to make it before she left town.
(Rosa and Gina look at each other)
Rosa: no no no, we haven’t. we don’t know what-
Gina: yeah, we haven’t.
Terry: i must’ve sleep- eaten it last night.
Rosa: what?
Terry: no, nothing. what- i don’t have a problem.
Rosa: we should leave now. jake and i have to drive up to someplace i don’t remember to pick up a perp of the mistle-street robbery we were working.
Terry: and i’m sure Gina too has work tomorrow
Gina: (looks up from her phone) oh, what? what work? oh yeah, no.
Rosa: (rolls eyes) ok, bye, man.
Terry: bye, guys. Thank you so much for this. I owe you guys one.
Gina: you know what i want.
Terry: no, Gina, i can give you anything but my picture just out of the shower
Gina: ughhhhh, then just forget it.
Rosa: i want my axe fixed after ya broke it trying to chop down a tree for christmas.
Terry: You got it. (embarrassed) Terry has slippery hands.
(Rosa and Gina leave)
Rosa: I’ll drive so i don’t have to listen to the Beyoncé driving music.
Gina: Aw, Rosa, you’re sweet to think that if you drive i won’t put on music.
Rosa: So i still have to-
Gina: (turns on Beyoncé song and sings in with the tune)
Rosa: Guess that means yes. ( but she is secretly very happy because she too loves Beyoncé but would never accept it. but often drives with Gina, so that she could listen to Beyoncé with the alibi that “Gina was listening to her”.)
(gets awkward) thank you for not telling terry my, well, stories.
Gina: oh yeah, it’s no problem. but for jake, i wish i was wearing a body cam to record whatever you said today. he would’ve freaked.
Rosa: (smiles) yeah.
Gina: (nosily) while we are talking about that, are all those stories true?
Rosa: i guess we will never know. (they reach Gina’s house).
Gina: Fine. Bye. |
02b159bdbef34e49a9239fea35330f00 | ['cfece21fad7b49ecb8967fe99e3b7b2d'] |
1. Premise
The sex between them is nothing Kurt has ever experienced before. There’s no room for sweet touching of hands, no gentleness; no place for caresses, romantic kisses and longing stares. It’s not based on _feelings_ or thoughts – those are forbidden. Everything between them is pure instinct, utter ferocity and hunger for a much deeper contact, for a harder kiss, for a greater pleasure. It’s always rushed, and chaotic and overwhelming. Kurt feels breathless most of the time, has no time to time to even think of what he’s doing, where he is, because his brain blacks out and adrenaline fills his veins, want takes control of his actions. He becomes blind and deaf and so damn selfish because the world suddenly disappears, his brain receptive of skin on skin, labored breaths and rushing hearts only.
And it’s bad, Kurt knows it. The more he takes advantage of the situation the more he wants to continue. The _last time_ is never actually the last, when he says _no_ he never really means it. It’s like a drug, that intoxicates him, overwhelms him, penetrates the pores of his skin. It makes his limbs lose and vibrant with need, it numbs his rationality, makes him act like an animal. He’s so blinded by want that he doesn’t understand what’s better for him anymore, doesn’t even _care_ , even though he really should: when something, when some _one_ affects you to the point where you don’t even recognize yourself anymore, the logical thing to do would be stopping before it’s too late. But the truth is that Kurt doesn’t _want_ to stop. He wouldn’t have given in in the first place: everything screamed danger to him even at the beginning, when he couldn’t imagine yet how things would be. But he went on anyway, because he needed to prove to himself that he could do something like that, that he could casually have sex and be reckless and irresponsible.
The problem is that he would never have guessed that Sebastian – arrogant, bitchy, exotic and unbelievably intriguing Sebastian Smythe could have that effect on him.
Sebastian, who’s handsome when pliant and surrendered under his hands, whose moans are music and whose smell is aphrodisiac to him. Sebastian, whose kisses burn Kurt’s skin, and whose calloused fingers know where to touch and caress and squeeze and mark. Sebastian, who had to be just an experiment, a bet, who has turned Kurt’s world upside down, who has Kurt under a spell that makes him desperate and vibrant with want for his touch and body. Sebastian, who makes him ruthless and brutal, nearly animalistic, sexual in a way he would never have guessed he could be. Sebastian, with whom he has sex, but wishes he could have _more_ , something unnamable, forbidden. Sebastian, who’s undeniably _toxic_ and is making Kurt fall _ill_.
He already recognizes the symptoms, sees the side effects of that sick game of theirs in his eyes, in his smell, in his thoughts. Sebastian is everywhere, like a virus capable of creeping in every fiber of his body, but in a contorted way he’s also the cure. Kurt is dependent, has no power against him, to push him away, to fight him. He’s completely subdued, enslaved by all those poisonous, fatal things he makes him feel.
Unexpected things that Kurt isn’t supposed to feel at all.
__ And he hates it - hates _him_ because he’s not what he expected, but at the same time Sebastian and the feelings that came with him are something he would never have thought of wanting but that he found himself _needing_. And God, when he’s with Sebastian, Kurt just needs and feels _so much_ it’s scary, but at the same time it’s never _enough_.
He just wants more. He wants more kisses, and more touches, and he wants them harder and deeper and faster. But at the same time he wants them to go slower, to appreciate the moments they share, he wants to remember every single whispered word, every moan, every fleeting look, every heartbeat that could mean more.
Usually they have no time for that, though. They still go for ruthless and brutal most of the times, because they need to fuck their worries and stress out, need the physical closeness of another body to calm down, to feel grounded. They don’t talk much, not anymore. At the beginning they used to lash out at each other while fucking,because their escapades were all about taking out all their stress and frustration, but now they prefer letting their bodies voice their desires; they prefer listening to that rough, wild melody that generates from the sound of their skin brushing and sliding together, their shaky breaths, the ruffling of the sheets under their weight, that music that echoes in the silence of either Sebastian’s parents empty apartment or Kurt’s room in Bushwick.
Doors are never locked, lights rarely on, completely forgotten when the two of them stumble frantically towards the first horizontal surface they can find. Nothing matters when they’re together that way, they don’t care if they don’t reach the mattress and end up collapsing on the floor. All they care about is touching, and feeling, and letting go, and surrendering to the voracious lust that burns their brains when they’re in proximity of one another, that consuming desire that bends them with no difficulty whatsoever, that makes them act like beasts.
And God, if it doesn’t feel good.
2. Chapter 1
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hi :)
> Here's the second chapter of the story, in which Sebastian and Kurt become a thing. Please, fasten your seat belt!
> Ps: I've double checked, but I'm a mistake-making human, so feel free to let me know if I've misspelled anything.
> Hope you enjoy it :)
CHAPTER 1
The beauty of a secret | 8deb47ba39054fdb884d6461f19c8188 | ['cfece21fad7b49ecb8967fe99e3b7b2d'] | Santana must sense something’s wrong because she doesn’t say anything more about the topic. She just bends a little and takes the thermometer – that’s what the cold thing was, Kurt realizes -from under his arm. She looks at it warily, then sighs. “Congratulations, you’re so hot that Hell’s chilly compared to you. Come on, open your mouth, Hummel. I have a dinner to cook.”
Kurt sighs, eventually squinting an eye open. He takes the aspirin from Santana and swallows it with just a sip of water. He feels like suffocating for a moment, but then Santana encourages him to drink a little bit more and his throat does feel a little bit better.
“Now, the fever should break, but make sure to drink every now and then, okay? Just try not to die. I’ll be back to check on you.”
Kurt nods, or at least he thinks he does; a second later he’s buried under the covers again and the lights are off. It doesn’t take him longer to fall asleep again.
He sleeps on and off throughout all the evening. Rachel, Elliott and Blaine come to see how he’s doing and Kurt forces himself to act like he’s happy to see them, but truth is that at the moment the only person he tolerates is Santana, who thankfully is smart enough to usher them out so he can rest in peace. He wakes up again in the middle of the night, while everyone is sleeping – Santana too – and he may or may not cry a bit thinking about Sebastian. He blames his headache and the fact that his everything hurts, that are making him crazy and way too vulnerable.
When he wakes up for the umpteenth time, he’s brought into consciousness by gentle strokes in his hair and a sweet, low humming in his ears. At first he just enjoys the soothing treatment someone’s serving him, but then doubt starts to creep in. That’s not Santana, for three basic reasons: for once, though she’s shown how caring she can be, Santana’s not the type to sing to _him_ ; second, she’d never touch his hair; and third, she’s not a man.
Kurt’s heart skips a beat. What is Sebastian doing here?
“Good morning, princess.” he says, probably noticing he’s finally awake. His voice his gentle and low, a kind whisper against his ear. Kurt shivers at the warmth of Sebastian’s breath. He blinks his eyes open, slowly, his brows furrowed,and finds Sebastian curled on a chair next to his bed, his nose barely a inch from his face. Though he’s still mad at him, he can’t help but find him a really nice sight for his sore eyes.
“What are you doing here” he mumbles, his voice awfully groggy and his throat completely dehydrated. Sebastian stops caressing his head just for the brief time he needs to grab a bottle of water and urge him to drink.
“What do you think?” he asks and Kurt hates that subtle rhetorical accent to the question. He glares at him, but Sebastian seems unfazed while he securely but kindly pulls him up a little bit. Kurt hates being this weak, hates that he’s so down he can’t even be properly mad at Sebastian, hates that he can’t do nothing but surrender at his cares. He complies, lets Sebastian handle him, but once he’s drunk and settled again against the mattress, he doesn’t let him touch his hair again. He may be vulnerable, but he still has dignity. Sebastian doesn’t deserve to be treated like usual, doesn’t deserve Kurt’s trust yet.
Sebastian flinches at Kurt’s severe look, but he respects him, respects his feelings and his decision and his fingers close on thin air instead of Kurt’s locks.
“Santana blackmailed you?” he asks, and he’s proud of himself for being able to be sarcastic still.
“She didn’t need to. She may have given me a piece of her mind when she informed me you didn’t feel well, but if I’m here it’s not because she told me to. I know it’s my fault if you’re in this situation and the least I can do is help you.”
Kurt glances at him and he looks sincere. He wishes it could be enough to make him feel better – both physically _and_ emotionally.
“You shouldn’t be here anyway” he mutters, and there’s pain, and delusions, and anger as he says those words. “I am no damsel in distress either”
“Touché” Sebastian says, the shadow of a smile on his lips. Kurt doesn’t mirror it and looks away, fixing his gaze on the white ceiling of his room. Sebastian sighs and sounds defeated.
“Look, Kurt..”
“I just wanted to keep you company because you sounded strange and didn’t want to leave you alone. That attitude was really uncalled for”
“I know I acted like a jerk, okay? I really am sorry. And if I’m here is also because I want to earn your forgiveness.”
Kurt turns slightly and looks at him. He does seems sorry and a little bit lost and a tiny part of him takes pleasure in seeing him struggle too. Sadistic delight aside, though, he’s mostly happy and frustrated; happy because things between them may not be okay yet, but they will be; frustrated because he knows Sebastian won’t need to earn forgiveness: deep down he’s forgiven him already. And that’s unfair.
Kurt sighs. “You really did act like an asshole.”
Sebastian smiles ruefullyin spite of himself. “I know.” |
1711715795514476942baff1efcbe6e8 | ['cff2b4d215eb49c1b733a68ba724e660'] | His stomach rumbled and he gently patted it, " Yeah, I got you, buddy." Stiles said and decided to hop into his jeep to make another round in town for groceries.
He went inside a groceries store not 20 minutes later. He dragged one of the carts around as he dropped items after items: meat, fruits, eggs, vegetables, cooking oil, bread, and a box of disposable plates and utensils. He continued to one aisle and also got himself a pan and a pot to cook with. Shit, he really needed to start getting his paycheck soon because his saving's almost gone. He also needed to get a fridge but it's too big for his jeep.
He drove home to find an SMUD van standing in front of his gate. Stiles stopped and got out. He was greeted by a middle-aged man who told him that he was here to get the energy going. Stiles nodded before opening the gate and hopped back into his jeep to drove it through. The van following right behind him.
Similarly, the man who introduced himself as Jeffrey, or "Just Jeff is fine", asked him the same question as Bill did. And Stiles answered with the same answer. Stiles allowed the man to come into his house and immediately forgot that he had a bed laid out in the living room. He joked and laughed. Jeff went all around the room to check for outlet and Stiles went to the kitchen to unpacked his groceries.
As stiles was finishing putting his food into the cabinet, Jeff came back and asked to go to the yard. He suspected that the power wires should be there. Stiles nodded and led him outside.
Stiles watched Jeff looking through the ground before Jeff stopped and called to him, "I found it!". Stiles ran forward to join him. Jeff bent down to wiped the dirt off of the box before pulling out his power drill and unscrewed all of the screws. He slowly opened the box to revealed a bunched of thick wires in all colors. Stiles watched as he touched a couple of the wires and slowly examined them, squinting his eyes and rubbing his chin, face totally serious. _"Man, this guy must've loved his job"_ , Stiles thought.
After a few minutes of more examining and measuring the voltage of the wires, Jeff dropped the wires and turned to look at Stiles, "I don't know how this house did it, but the wires still looked pretty good, so we won't have any problem starting up the lights again."
"Good, because I need lights and food." Stiles laughed.
They made their way back to the side of the house and located the fusebox. Turned out some of the fuses were really old so Jeff went back to his car to get new ones. After he placed them in their designated place, he flicked down each switch. He then told Stiles to go inside and checked. Stiles went back inside the house and turned on the living room's light switch. The ceiling's light right in the middle of the living room flickered a few time before completely lighted up.Stiles smiled as he went back outside and gave Jeffrey a thumbs up.
After Jeffrey checked to see if all of his equipment is there with him, he gave stiles his business card just like Bill and went off to the gate. Stiles offered to saw him out but he declined so Stiles waved at him instead.
Stiles made his way inside the living room and sat down onto his bed. He smiled because now that the room's been lit, he felt more comfortable and that he won't have to sleep in the dark any longer.
His stomach rumbled again and Stiles remembered that he needed to go make him some food. So, he went into the kitchen and ate a banana and 2 oranges. He took out the new pan and pour a small amount of cooking oil onto it and cooked his meat with some vegetables. It smelled delicious and Stiles drooled before wiping his mouth and continued stirring the pan. He put the meat into a bread slice and covered it with another slice to make a sandwich, before taking a whole mouthful of it.
"Mmmhh" Stiles hummed happily.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Y'all probably realized that I don't really write character description and that there's isn't much dialogue going on, but i'm still learning. I have a harder time writing dialogues just because it really take alot of time and you have to know the tone in the character's speech, which i'm definitely not good at so I'll write dialogue if it's short and right to the point but when it comes to a paragraph of dialogue, I'll probably going to just summarized it. I hoped y'all won't be distracted by my flaws and look at the potential of this story. I know that the first couple of chapters aren't that exciting but it'll be awesome later. Thank you y'all for reading this and please comment below to let me know.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Stiles meet a new friend. | 218dea3bd02d4a0b9de428c8626f221c | ['cff2b4d215eb49c1b733a68ba724e660'] | Jared’s eye lighted up and he instantly let go of grandgran’s skirt and ran after the children.
Jared was a slow runner and when he finally catches up to the children, he decided to stay beside the bushes and look to see what they were doing. The children are playing some sort of fighting game near the edge of a pond. There are 4 boys and 2 girls and they look like they were a few years older than Jared. Jared was especially astonished by the tall boy with the wooden sword.
The boy had brownest-blond hair and the greenest eyes that Jared ever seen. His smile and laugh are also very pleasant to Jared as well. The boy was swinging his wooden sword around teasingly and the rest of the kids tried to grab it from his hand.
Jared couldn’t keep his eye off of the children but when he felt something wriggling on his hand, he quickly glanced at it and saw a big yellow caterpillar crawling on it. Jared screamed and quickly shot up from his place, revealing him to the children.
After Jared got rid of the pest, he noticed that the children were looking at him in a confused manner. He quickly blushed and glanced down. He brought his hand together and tried to explained why he’s there.
The green eye boy came up to him and after he examined Jared. He pulled Jared’s cap off and all of the children gasped. Jared quickly covered his fatten ears with his hand and back away. Suddenly the green eye boy struck Jared down with his wooden sword and yelled “monster” and “half-breed”. The rest of the children joined in and started punching and beating Jared. Jared pleaded but they won’t stop and he started crying.
After Jared felt numb all over his body and couldn’t move an inched, The children finally stopped and the green eye boy kicked Jared over to his back and pinned him down with his feet on Jared’s chest, with the wooden sword at Jared’s throat.
"And now the hero will strike down the monster!” the boy yelled. His friend cheering him on.
“Pl-please...” Jared slowly whimpered out.
When the boy was about to struck the final blow, Jared heard grandgran yelling for him and then the weight on his chest was gone and he was scooped onto grandgran’s chest. He turned to look at his attackers but could only see the children running away blurrily and then everything went dark.
When he came too, he was on the back of grandgran. He could hear the chirps of the crickets and saw trees moving passed him.
Jared groaned and said softly,”Grand..gran.?”
“Go back to sleep, my child.” grandgran said and Jared found that his eye suddenly become heavy and he let them closed.
The next time Jared woke up, he was in his bed. Jared pulled himself out of his sleep and used his elbow to prop him up to examined the room. He saw grandgran stirring something in the pot and turned to faced Jared. When grandgran flashed him a sweet smiled, Jared weakly stood up and ran to hug her side. Jared’s tears come out like rivers.
"There, there, don’t cry, sweetie.” Grandgran soothed him and rubbed circle around his back but Jared just continued crying.
It was then that Jared made up his mind to never go to the village ever again.
It took a few minute for Jared to calm down and he nestled deeper into grandgran’s chest. After that, Jared tried to explained what happened and beg for her forgiveness, then he suddenly remember the word “Half-breed”.
“Grandgran…the children called me a monster and a half-breed but I’m not a monster right? And what is half-breed?” Jared asked. Grandgran stopped smiling and looked into Jared's eye. Jared could clearly see the sadness behind her eye which made him even more confused. Grandgran puffed out a breath and patted Jared’s head.
“Oh my sweet child, you’re so young and yet you have to find out this way.” Grandgran said.
Jared was confused. Why is grandgran saying such thing? What did Jared do wrong?
“My sweet child… a half-breed is …a combination of two unlikely things.” Grandgran answered.
“ But…I’m a complete person” Jared replied
Grandgran chuckled and her hand went up to Jared’s ear and stroked it. Jared was still confused but he let his head falls into grandgran’s hand.
“I know honey, but a half-breed means that your parents are not alike and so they have you and you’re a half-species.” Grangran again explained
Jared sat there looking devastated and stilled confused.
“You…you mean that I’m only half-werewolf?.” Jared corrected and Grandgran nodded
For the rest of the night, grandgran explained to Jared that his mother was a werewolf but his father was human. His mother went to heaven after she gave birth to him and so grandgran took it upon her job to take care of him. She also explained that full-fledge werewolves hated and discriminated half-breed and that was why Jared get beat up by the children. This was also why he had to wear the cap and covered his ears.
There was nothing for Jared to do except cried in the chest of grandgran. He cried that he’s a half-breed, he cried that nobody want him and they all hated him, he cried because he couldn’t see his mother anymore and he cried because he couldn’t do anything about it.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you so much for liking my story. Here is the 2nd chapter that i promised you guy. Please still leave comment and kudos. It brighten my days knowing that y'all like my work. I'll tried to upload as soon as possible so please bear with me. Thank you all and have a good read.
It was when Jared turned 13 that his entire world came crumbling down. |
ab0f87bf6df34dd980f5a47f747d029a | ['cff44c3b79264ea8a6c436b4079f07ae'] | "So you want me to piss on your long face?!" The other boy was a young Toydarian. His little wings were flapping rapidly. Hego counted 30 per second. Twice as fast as the last time he bothered to count. And Hego hated it when other people said Muuns had long faces. The Toydarian's long soft nose is _more_ stupid.
"You can always pee through the window." The little Muun commented.
"Someone would seeeeeeee! Hego let me paaaaass!" The other boy's basically screeching.
"Nobody would see in this weather," Hego pointed at the blizzard outside. "And don't you think that's fun?"
That got the Toydarian's attention. "You think so?"
The shorter boy wanted Hego to like him. It's getting annoying. "Yeah. Think it won't stay liquid long enough. We can check later."
"Alright." The other boy jumped and with the help of his wings he made it in one fluid motion. Hego found that his wings moved slower as he relieved himself.
When he finished he turned around and wanted to jump back but he slipped on the sill.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-"
Hego counted 4.56 seconds before he heard the final _boom_.
_So the wings did slow it down. Not enough though. What's the point of having wings if you can't fly._
Hego went downstairs and contemplated how he was gonna tell his mother to find him a new playmate.
The voice in his head was snickering.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hego Damask, always the nerdy sociopath.
>
> In Darth Plagueis, it is said that 5-year-old Hego mind-tricked a child who wanted go downstairs first to jump out of the window. It probably has nothing to do with ABO AU though... Muun and Toydarian are not human. I think young Toydarian can't fly very well.
5. I've thought about her every night since we parted and...
Padme, growing up on a water planet like Naboo, found everything on Tatooine quite dry, except the little boy who had just asked if she's an angel. But his next statement caught her off guard.
"When I grow up, I will marry you and we are gonna have looots of babies."
Padme would slap any man across the face who dared to say something this rude to her, but the little man before her was cute and a slave for all his life so he probably didn't know.
She smiled at him.
The boy beamed.
***
The boy turned into a young man, a quite handsome one. His accent didn't change though.
When the Jedi Padawan was assigned to protect her, all Padme could think was how to get this hottie into her bed. Seeing the love-struck face of Anakin Skywalker, she thought that would be no challenge at all. But-
"Would you marry me, Padme?" Anakin, wearing a boyish expression, said in a gentle voice.
_Wait, what??_ The younger human didn't seem to notice that her jaw just hit the ground. Maybe he thought she's shocked which's not wrong, though for a different reason. So he kept talking:
"So we can have looooots of babies." He beamed at her.
"Er... Anakin. I... we Alphas don't bear children."
A beat.
"I mean you _do_ know all Naboo Kings and Queens are Alphas, right?"
_Clear not._
"But would you marry me?"
_Oh that's gonna be awkward._ Maybe she'd sent too many wrong signals.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yeah in my SW ABO AU Padme and Anakin are only lovers, friends with benefits. Poor Anakin is still very possesive tho.
>
> I always thought the line Anakin said to Jar Jar in the movie was 'I've thought about her every NIGHT since we parted and...'. I was like, every night? Since you were 9??? Carrie Fisher saying one of her fans told her he'd thought about her 6 times a day in his teenage days didn't help XD.
6. Truth or Dare
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Two xxx and One xxx walked into a bar.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yeah it's some easier(?) alternative version of the game... Crack, not happening.
Sate Pestage didn’t know how they ended up here, in this situation. Usually by this time Kinman was long gone chasing some girls or, sometimes, boys. In the worst situaion, he and Palpatine stayed and talked about politics, again, and finally when the air became too thick with tension, they called it a night and went back to their respective apartment.
That had been the definition of _the_ _worst_ , until tonight.
Out of some miracle - or joke - Kinman didn’t feel like fucking and stayed and he figured Truth or Dare was really fun. _I can’t believe this!_ Sate’d thought that had been something also on Palpatine’s mind, since their boss and friend and something more had been above this kind of... trufling games. But no. He was not. And the result was that he and Kinman did Truth or Dare out of two sets of requests, and Palpatine did Dare exclusively, choosing either man’s. Kinman, drunk and never remembered a thing the next morning, clearly thought in his heart that Palpatine, as a politician, lied with his Sabbac face too well. To Sate’s horror, the Senator had agreed.
So now, after Kinman perfomed his share of Dare which was sneaking a pack of Omega Suppressants into the the pocket of the Alpha male two tables over who’d been clearly trying to hook up with a hot Beta female with his Alpha charm, and Sate answered that he didn’t have any bastard offsprings or any offsprings at all, it’s Palpatine’s time to perform a Dare. | 1cfb3c51e7694aa7ac6e73a4d0b05312 | ['cff44c3b79264ea8a6c436b4079f07ae'] | Palpatine can’t risk using the Dark Side to get rid of the child and being weak and sick when everyday could be the last day of the Republic. So he uses some Dark Art and strong suppressants to mask his altered scent. It will backfire. He knows but he has to.
The next time he sees Anakin, Anakin asks why his scent doesn’t change, he answers he masks it with something. Chancellor’s privilege. Anakin smiles and kisses him. Palpatine pushes him away and asks him to be patient.
Jedi finds out that Chancellor’s the Sith through Sate Pestage. The Jedi knows that the Sith has access to the Chancellor’s office. They put everyone close to Palpatine under surveillance. When Sate changes Palpatine’s schedule, the Jedi is suspicious. They brought him into custody with some dirty tricks. Sate doesn’t betray Palpatine but the Jedi uses some un-Jedi methods and finds the truth.
The rest is basically the same as canon. Anakin nearly begged the three Jedi Masters not to harm Palpatine. He needs to be brought to trials. They promised. Anakin doesn’t believe them. He stalks them and when Windu strikes Sidious down, Anakin kills the Jedi Master.
(Or it could be Palpatine’s lightning backfires at himself and Anakin chopped off Windu’s arms and Palpatine kills Windu. Palpatine answers that the baby is gone because of the lightning. Anakin’s mixed hatred for the Jedi<he forgets that the lightning is Palpatine’s own doing> and his remaining conscious crushed via turning on the Jedi finally bend him to the Dark Side)
He leads the 501th into the Temple and kills everyone, ignoring Palpatine’s order to spare the little ones who can be turned for further use. He kills the last two children he and Obi-Wan brought to the Temple only 2 months ago. He wants to spare the children of a future filled with the Dark Side, but by doing so, he further smothers his remaining Light.
He goes to Mustafar, and Obi-Wan trails after him. His feeling for his Master is so mixed. His frustration that Obi-Wan never REALLY listened to him turns into hatred when Obi-Wan brings up that he has killed EVERYONE in the temple including the younglings.
Anyway Obi-Wan still strikes Vader down and the latter get roasted on the bank. When Palpatine finishes Vader’s reconstruction, Vader asks how is the baby. Sidious, this time without a ruined face, answers that during the fight with Yoda, he was badly hurt and the baby is gone now. Anakin knows he loses everything.
Maybe not everything. Padme is alive. He won’t let Padme know Vader is Anakin.
He doesn’t even think that Padme would know. Obi-Wan could tell her for one. And even after everything, he still isn’t subtle. He acts like Anakin when he is with her. Padme doesn’t tell him that she knows until years later.
Palpatine underestimates Vader’s attachment to him and Padme. In training, he finds Vader’s tendency to please him distasteful, yet he can’t train it out of him. Some part of him doesn’t want to. He allows Vader’s attachment to Padme to grow since it doesn’t disturb Vader’s job. He knows Padme is part of the Rebellion but he is also curious why after so many years, she still can’t get Vader to turn on him. The Rebellion is his pet project. Without it, his rein is too long and boring.
20 years passes. Vader is ordered by the Emperor to stay on the Death Star when it destroys Alderaan. He kills Obi-Wan(More like the old Jedi kills himself). He finds out later that Padme was on Alderaan. Vader is furious. His hatred for his Master and himself is at the peak, yet he still can’t strike Palpatine down. He can’t even try.
Palpatine tells him that their baby was not killed by the Jedi. He killed it with the Force just after his reconstruction, after he told him in the face the lie.
Vader Strikes Palpatine down but is wounded too. He has a few more years to live so he swears he is gonna shape the Galaxy into the image he always dreams where there’ no slavery and Force-sensitives with proper guidance will use their power to help make the world good again.
Of course he fails miserably. He was a famous Jedi General, a formidable dark force that stormed across everything on its way. But he wasn’t and never will be a successful ruler.
He has lost everything and everyone. He killed the people he loved who loved him back; The man he loved but didn’t love him back committed suicide via his hands. Was it something else? He is not sure.
The last two rulers of the Empire leave only their fake names behind. Emperor Vader and Palpatine. Their real names Skywalker and Sidious still taste bad on the tongue. It’s never a match.
The Galaxy is in chaos.
Without Sith influences.
Yet.
Somewhere, a pair of yellow eyes open.
***
PS:
Some info I failed to insert there.
[1]Shmi Skywalker is an Alpha. She gave birth to Anakin at the age of 30, so unlike Palpatine, she’s quite sure of her ABO attribute. For that reason and Jedi’s ability, Qui-Gon didn’t question her. I think she still died and drove Anakin into madness but she was not killed by sand people.
[2]Padme, Beta!Bail Organa and Alpha!Mon Mothma are all members of the Committee for ABO equality. Before they got themselves involved, the committee was just a puppet organization which looked pretty whenever the Senate wanted a puppet Omega Chancellor. P&B&M want to change that. They got criticized a lot that the 10-individual committee didn’t even have an Omega on it. |
6b0b6fa29bf641aeab6fa35c606cb8ad | ['cffa8fc0d99241bca0f66a72ec1c7cf1'] | Finally, the woman made her way back over, setting steeping tea on the counter before wrapping her arms around her friend’s shoulders. “Oh, Jesse,” she hummed, pulling him into a hug. “It isn’t that bad. It might not have been your finest moment, but he’s clearly seen beyond that. Do you think he would be giving you good advice if he didn’t like you?”
The cowboy shook his head. “Naw, Angie – that was a _terrible_ first impression. Terrible. An’ y’ can’t make a first impression more than once, tha’s th’ whole nature of th’ damn thing.” He sighed, shoulders dropping.
The Swede allowed silence to blanket them for a moment, pulling the man into a closer embrace. “Now, Jess, I don’t think all is lost.” She pressed a kiss to his temple before drawing back to return to her tea. “He wouldn’t talk to you at all if you put him off that badly. You’re a charming man – don’t look at me like that, you know well that Reyes would have killed you time and time again if you hadn’t been so delightful--”
“Reyes would _not_ call me _delightful_ , Angela Ziegler, what--”
“The point is, he never _actually_ killed you, which speaks volumes to your ability to be likeable when you want to be, so _buck up_ , and be the likeable person you _actually are._ ”
Jesse opened his mouth to argue and paused there, brow furrowing. A moment later, his teeth clicked shut and the man huffed a sigh. There was no point in arguing with her, and-- Well, he might not have the wherewithal to say so out loud, but for all the years that he’d worked with Blackwatch, for everything he fucked up or intentionally sabotaged, his Commander had never actually taken him out back to take the tar out of him; the same couldn’t be said for the days spent back in Deadlock.
Shaking the ghost of Gabriel past from his memory, the cowboy turned about. No use reminiscing now. Jessed helped himself to what remained in the coffee put, musing softly as he started work on the next pot. The others would be stirring soon. “Yeah,” he agreed, long after conversation had run its course. “Suppose a friend ain’t never out of line.”
“See? What a wonderful idea!” Angela cooed happily. “Now, come here, help me with this – can’t send everyone off on an empty belly now, can we?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you to any lovely folk who have stuck with me this long. <3 | 37c4e9ea6cd6487e9d1879c56d816878 | ['cffa8fc0d99241bca0f66a72ec1c7cf1'] | The name sent a cold tingle up the gunslinger’s spine – he hadn’t heard it spoken out loud in what felt like _ages_ , even if it seemed like man’s voice lingered in the back of his mind half of the time. Swallowing around the knot in his throat, he gave the woman a sideways look. “I _grew up_ , Angie. This ain’t Blackwatch, it’s--”
“Exactly. This isn’t Blackwatch. We are better than that.” Jesse bristled, but the doctor didn’t seem to notice. “Hanzo is here to redeem himself, just like you are. Whatever his other motivations, those are his own. Whatever his conditions are, that is between himself and Winston. If _Genji_ is willing to work with him, why aren’t you?”
Jesse felt his shoulders slump as he sighed, giving his head a slow shake as the vindication started to drain out of him. He had no real answer – anger on the ninja’s behalf, mainly. Uncertainty, maybe. He had none of this Zen the younger agent had learned in their years apart, but spoken out loud…it did seem a bit foolish to keep stoking the fires of his grudge when the injured party wasn’t even carrying a torch. Eventually, he settled on a small, “I dunno, Angie.”
“So you will work with him when you come back from Siberia, yes? Leave this nonsense behind?”
“Y’know I always leave that drama bullshit out of th’ field.” He frowned, brows only furrowing deeper as she laughed, patting his bicep as she did. “Hey, now--”
“I’m glad to hear it!” Angela hummed, willing to take the gunslinger on his word. “Now, there was something else I wanted to ask you about – is he the reason you haven’t been to dinner since you’ve been here, Jesse?”
“Eh?”
“You haven’t had a single meal with the rest of the team. I understand the jet lag takes a few days – but it’s been a few days and then some. You really ought to be on a more appropriate schedule, and I had begun to wonder-”
“Naw, naw, it’s not that.” He sighed, pressing his flesh hand against his face. “I, uh – ain’t been real good on keepin’ track a’ time, really.”
“So you’ll join us for dinner, then! You really need to meet the new faces,” the woman announced, using her leverage to pull him further down the hallway. “I think you’ll like them, Jesse. This is excellent.”
“Now, Angie, listen here--”
But the good doctor would hear no excuses, especially not when there were so many new agents to get to know. At least Jesse McCree was well-fed before being sent off to Siberia. If nothing else, he was looking forward to running into that bodybuilder running around those parts.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> yeeeeessss, you may have noticed this changed from 20 to ??? planned chapters. with this chapter, Jesse decided to veer from the outline i had decided on. once i get that set back up, i will probably readjust accordingly.
>
> they'll get along. eventually. this WILL BE a romance. eventually. [rubs face]
4. from my past comes a daunting task
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> “I meant what I said, cowman,” Hanzo rumbled from where he stood. “You deserve the truth.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> so, this got done a little quicker than usual. i...am pretty happy with this chapter, so that's a new (nice?) feeling. yay! onwards and upwards. think i might be getting the swing of this thing.
His watch began to chirp at some ridiculous hour, and for a moment, Jesse was sorely tempted to pitch the thing against the wall and roll back over. A moment later, his mind helpfully supplied that _ today _ they were leaving for Siberia – leaving base would certainly do him some good. Winston had assured them Siberia wasn’t _ that _ unpleasant this time of year, but quite frankly, the cowboy was fairly certain he’d even take the snow and the cold if it got him away from Hanzo’s frosty behavior.
The thought of the archer had him grousing, but he slid from under the sheets all the same, suiting up as quickly as he could. There was a bit of time before they were actually scheduled to leave, but Jesse had no intention of leaving on some sort of excursion without at least two cups of coffee in him. (A pastry or two wouldn’t hurt, either.)
Shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn, the gunslinger made a beeline for the coffee maker. Once he had his mug full of the good stuff, he shuffled from the pantry – and nearly ran into Lúcio on his way out.
“We gotta stop meetin’ like this, kid,” he said around a mouthful of cinnamon Poptart, one eyebrow raised. At least he hadn’t spilled his coffee this time.
The musician just laughed and clapped a hand over Jesse’s bicep as he skirted into the large stockroom, humming to himself as he did. “You know I wouldn’t actually run into you, McQueen. I got _ way _ more control than that.” He offered a cheeky grin before disappearing entirely, helping himself to whatever the Brazilian classified as breakfast.
Jesse furrowed his brow, thoughts briefly stalled by the name. He poked his head back into the pantry, still frowning. “…y’know it’s McCree, right?”
“Of course!” Lúcio didn’t spare him a second glance as he filled his arms, skating back out. (The hell was the guy making, a fruit salad?) “I thought we talked about this, yeah? Magnificent Seven, Steve McQueen – actual cowboy. It’s like that hat is _ literally _ attached to your head or something.” |
b17d1e50454c460da107288e973bebd7 | ['d0099b5dfcb24122a5d204347122328c'] | "Worry about it later!" said Scott, snapping into full command mode. "We need to speed this up. Thunderbird Two, what's your status?"
_"Almost done,"_ Gordon reported, as Virgil suppressed the urge to respond for him. _"The group you just sent up is the last lot we're waiting on. As soon as they're out, we're gone, and the controlled demolition crews can take over this time-bomb."_
"Got it. I'm going to help Virgil-"
_"Aah!"_ said Virgil, and activated his distress beacon.
"-right now!" Scott activated his jetpack and descended through the ruins of basement level three towards him. "Virgil, what's happening?"
Radio silence.
"Virgil!"
Radio silence.
"Virgil, do you read me?!" Scott screamed, closing on Virgil's last known location.
To his immense relief, Virgil was still there. To his horror, so was a barely-human-looking corpse in several pieces.
Scott stared at Virgil. Virgil stared at the corpse. The corpse stared at oblivion. Oblivion stared at Scott.
Then the not-mud beneath the corpse boiled up, absorbed it, and receded again.
_"Virgil,"_ somebody said very quietly, _"what the hell happened?"_
"I don't know," said Virgil presently, after several deep breaths. "She just-" Without warning, he activated his helmet's emergency release, threw it behind him (Scott barely caught it), vomited onto the patch of not-mud where the corpse had been, then fell forward onto his kness, barely avoiding the resulting mess. "She just tried to tear me apart, Scott." He dry-heaved. "I tried to stop her, but she - I caught her arm, but she tore it off!" Understandably for even a seasoned first- and second-responder, Virgil was now sounding a bit manic. "She tore her own fucking arm off!"
_That explains the severed arm in the powersuit's grip,_ Scott thought grimly.
There was a gurgling sound. Several similar barely-humans emerged from the darkness, walking on the not-mud as if it were concrete.
Nobody said anything for a few seconds, fixated on the shambling horrors.
_"Scott,"_ John eventually said, _"shoot to kill."_
With Virgil still immobilised in shock and basically a group of zombies advancing on him, Scott was not inclined to disagree. His laser cutter made a decent improvised weapon at full power, and the approaching zombies were each soon cut into several pieces that weren't a danger to anyone.
There were several moments of silence for whoever they'd been before International Rescue leapt back into action.
_[[Attention. None of the assailants showed up as lifesigns,]]_ EOS reported, as what was left of said assailants was eaten by the not-mud. _[[Life readings in the area are still unexplained.]]_
"So anything could be lurking down here," Scott whispered, trying to reassure Virgil, which at this moment involved Virgil not hearing him. "Great. I feel like we've walked into a horror story."
"We might as well have," Virgil sighed, clearly having heard him anyway. "I am so out of here."
_"Guys!"_ John sounded more energised now. _"I've got two lifesigns in your area."_
As Virgil hastened to stand, EOS turned the mood straight back to horror. _[[Alert! They're not human! They're moving too fast! On your left!]]_
Scott turned to look, and two overgrown roughly-dog-shaped hellspawn leaped out of the floor at them. Well-drilled Air Force reflexes brought his laser cutter to bear and one of the whatever-the-hell-they-were crashed to the ground. The other leapt onto Virgil and knocked him flat on his back.
As Scott and Alan had learned in Thunderbird Three's altercation with the Mechanic, a grappling fight was all about the number of limbs you had - the more, the better. Virgil, freed of the need to stand, had four, only two of which ended in useful manipulators, and only the same two of which he was in any way adept at using. The hellspawn had at least six, four legs and two other appendages, each with claws or spikes, and it appeared to have mastered them all. In addition, the hellspawn had seemingly been sculpted for combat. Virgil had the powersuit, but it was hardly combat equipment; not suited for resisting or dealing damage to something this resilient and deadly.
Scott swiftly determined it wasn't safe to laser the melee from range; the risk of cutting Virgil apart was too high. He advanced, ready to-
_"Scott! The other one's still active!"_
_Thank you, Thunderbird Five,_ Scott thought (for once without a hint of sarcasm), turning back to the hellspawn he'd crippled earlier. The laser cuts were already healing, and it was silently dragging itself towards him. He cut it some more. And then some more. And then some more. This thing needed to be _thoroughly_ dead, _now_.
Finally satisfied it wouldn't be getting back up, he ran back to Virgil, who was losing. Half a second of indecision allowed the hellspawn to gain the upper hand moreso than it already had. Then he came up with a plan. It was a typically risky Scott Tracy plan. _Oh well, I'll reflect on that if we're both alive at the end of this,_ he thought, and leapt onto its back, pressing the laser cutter's barrel against the back of its neck and making a short cut - he couldn't risk cutting too far for fear of overpenetrating and hitting Virgil, but it still got the thing's attention, and its other limbs (tentacles? no, too rigid) came down to stab him in the back. Had he not been wearing his jetpack, the wounds would have been fatal. As it was, the jetpack was totalled, which was thankfully the extent of the damage to Scott. On the other hand, one of the spikes penetrated the power cell in the jetpack. | 74640c30b3ca42c59fe735656dafffcf | ['d0099b5dfcb24122a5d204347122328c'] | _"The lab's too heavy!"_ Virgil was in an unchacteristic panic by now. _"It's pulling us both under!"_
Another lurch. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, I have to disengage or take a bath!"
_"Thunderbird Five to lab crew, what's your status?"_
Another lurch. Thunderbird One peeled off, unable to sink any lower. Thunderbird Two strained under the added load.
_"Thunderbird Five to lab crew, come in please."_
Another lurch, and the lab toppled over the edge. Thunderbird Two began an inexorable descent -
_"Thunderbird Five to lab crew, can you hear me?"_
\- until one of its clamps ripped the composite sheet it was attached to off the station body. The other promptly followed, and the lab fell to its doom.
Now notably higher above the ocean, Virgil took a moment to collect himself. As he did, Scott was adding his voice to the inquisition. "Lab crew, this is International Rescue. Do you read me?"
The silence stretched far too long, until - _"I... The, ah, two of us are okay."_
"I thought there were three."
_"The commander didn't make it out. He was going to be last out the hole. Knocked his head when the lab dropped, and it took him with it."_
All involved shared a moment's silence.
_"Could you pick us up?"_
* * *
"Certainly. Thunderbird Two's recovery module is waiting almost directly above you - just swim up."
_"Gladly."_
With the mission complete - mostly, anyway - John turned his attention to other matters. "Scott, Virgil, I still can't find Gordon. We're going to have to come back for him later."
_"Are you seriously -"_ _"John, we can't just -"_
"Guys. Gordon will be fine. He'll find a way to get in touch."
Thunderbirds One and Two reluctantly departed for home base.
Thunderbird Five's occupant moved for the space elevator. He'd never actually lost track of their aquanaut. It was just that every diagnostic he'd run had told him that the [lack of] heartbeat had been accurate for at least thirty minutes.
* * *
**Non-canon bonus section!**
"This is rather alarming. There's a note here, addressed to International Rescue. It says, 'Press me, and all your questions will be answered'...?"
Lady Penelope's find in the warehouse was met with skepticism.
"I say we press the button and deal with the consequences." Scott, usually not the impulsive one, seemed to be making an exception.
Alan decided it was time for Genre Savvy. "I smell a trap."
(Grandma noted that "I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole.")
"I want answers."
"I'm telling you, trap."
John, substitute voice of reason in Scott's absence, decided that the oldest-youngest bickering was getting them nowhere. "Kayo, what do you think?"
"It definitely looks dodgy, but... what's the worst that could happen?"
In the warehouse, Parker apparently shared her opinion. With a remark to that effect, he reached for the button.
"Parker-!"
He pressed the button.
**_KABOOM_ **
2. The Other Deadly Dish
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Unlike last chapter, this one will be a sequence of short pieces, each unrelated to the others. Long format will be back next chapter.
Trusting in Thunderbird Two's imminent arrival, Scott jetted in the direction of the access hatch in the center of the collector - just as the sun peeked over the mountains. _Argh! I knew I should have started earlier!_
"I'm at the hatch."
_"Scott, you need to get in there or you'll be a baked potato."_
"I feel like one already!"
He reached the hatch without much trouble, and a Scott Tracy Signature Jetpack Maneuver transferred him from the lip of the hatch into the passage behind it. Or it would have, had his jetpack not picked that exact moment to cut out. "Argh!"
There was silence - apart from some exertive noises, which he didn't broadcast - until Virgil checked in several seconds later. _"I've arrived. All right, I'm going to - Scott! Get through that hatch!"_
"I'm - urgh - trying! Jetpack's fried!"
_"You need an assist?"_
Silence.
Scott let go of the hatch lip and tumbled down the collector dish. That looked painful.
_"Scott! Come in!"_
Silence.
Scott's body hit the rocks limply. That somehow looked _more_ painful.
_"Thunderbird One, talk to me!"_
Dead silence.
* * *
In the wake of the failure to redirect the dish's component mirrors, Scott came to a sudden realisation (and not a second too soon). "We need to destroy this dish... I need options, Brains! Fast!"
_"Here! T-the primary support beam. Remove it, and the dish will detach! I'm s-sending you coordinates now."_
"Virgil, get those engineers out. I'm taking out the dish."
_"Are you sure about this, Scott?"_ Of course Virgil just _had_ to interject.
"It's what Dad would have done." With that, Scott bolted for the back of the dish, and the primary support beam.
He eventually got to a 'stable' perch, and began to cut through the beam. Brains' souped-up long-range laser cutter proved surprisingly effective. "Virgil, I'm cutting my way through."
Virgil was evacuating the trapped collector staff and didn't have time to respond.
Forty seconds later, having evacuated the collector staff, Virgil wondered what was taking Scott so long. He swiftly found Scott on the ground, his neck broken; he'd clearly slipped while cutting.
Virgil tried to pigeonhole his grief as he directed Thunderbird Two to rip out the primary support beam at the weakened point.
* * *
"It's what Dad would have done." With that, Scott bolted for the back of the dish, and the primary support beam.
He eventually got to a stable perch, and began to cut through the beam. Brains' souped-up long-range laser cutter proved surprisingly effective. "Virgil, I'm cutting my way through."
Virgil was evacuating the trapped collector staff and didn't have time to respond. |
3b503df7fd1d4c478589056c02cad7ed | ['d027e3c60dfd4632ad62b55543334c80'] | They sent the two managers to speak with the coordinators while the boys stayed with Jin, who had been moved to the couch. Jungkook had stubbornly stayed put so that Seokjin could use his thigh as a pillow, Taehyung sat on the ground with his grip on Jin's wrist as tight but gentle as ever and Jimin was sitting on the other side of the couch to support Jin's legs. The rap line stared at the sight, not helping but to smile fondly at the image.
When Seokjin groggily opened his eyes, he winced as the light was too bright for his weak state. Jungkook practically hissed at the staff for having the light on so bright and went to cover Jin's eyes to coax him into getting used to the brightness. Still, they lowered it so that it wouldn't overwhelm Seokjin.
Hoseok, knowing that the maknae line were going to be clingy to the eldest for a while (perhaps a week?), decided to head over and grab a water bottle for Jin. When he got closer to Jin, he noticed the discomfort in the eldest and so he asked Seokjin what was wrong. Instead, Seokjin slowly sat up and asked for the bottle, to which Hoseok gladly handed over, and drank it all in one go.
"I just wanted to sit up Hobi..." he muttered, his voice hoarse.
"Are you feeling better hyung? Do you think you can handle performing?" Namjoon asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Seokjin nodded with a smile, "Course Joon... the fall wasn't that high up anyway." The maknae line immediately protested against the idea, shouting that Seokjin _still_ passed out and had been so for forty minutes (the awards would start in twenty minutes too! There was just no way Seokjin would be ready then!!).
"No Hyung! You must feel hurt somewhere, it's best if you sit this one out," Jimin chastised, lifting the blanket around Seokjin up to his chin. Seokjin frowned at Jimin and kept insisting to be prepared for the show, clearly showing that he would put up a fight if was not allowed to go. The boys, clearly sensing this, only sighed and allowed the stylists to help Seokjin, not leaving the room whatsoever.
Some artists were surprised to see Seokjin up and going, having seen him being carried away into the room in very bad conditions. Still, they bowed to him, some even stopping him from bowing back as he seemed to be wincing whenever he did.
The boys were as worried as ever, never letting him out of their sight and quickly going up to him when they noticed him struggling in something.
The most worrying part of the night was when they were up to perform next. They urged and even begged Seokjin not to perform, but the eldest hadd made up his mind and only shot them a glare when they approached him. They were already walking up to the stage, settling themselves down in their position, and shring worried glances at each other.
The music started, the cheers echoed, and the boys held in their breath as they shot up and performed, succesfully concealing their worry.
Some of them noticed that the other artists themselves were worried, sitting at the edge of their seats as they all eyed Seokjin, who seemed to be clenching his jaw. The first song passed, then the second and when they finally ended the third, they staggered off of stage, with Taehyung and Hoseok immediately going to Seokjin's side to support him.
When they were off the stage and out of camera's sights, Seokjin stumbled forwards, making them all lunge towards him. Their manager hurried over and scowled, chastising, "you kid, that was incredibly careless of you!" hurriedly lifting Seokjin's shirt up to place a patch on him. Seokjin chuckled and wiped off his sweat, winking at them and replying, "But I pulled through didn't I?"
The members only shook their heads, knowing he was right but seeing him in that state only made the situation worse.
Once the award show was over and they were back home, they all took turns scolding the eldest and fuzzing over him, with the maknae line refusing to leave Seokjin's side and pushing his bed together with Yoongi's in order to make more room.
Seokjin only sheepishly smiled and promised not to be that careless again, still beaming at the fact that each member grudgingly admitted that they were impressed and proud that their hyung pulled through in the end.
90. Jin's incredibly horrifying (amazing) university experience
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Request (ao3) Summary:
>
> A university au would be cool, depicting what Jin might actually go through uni--I mean I know it wouldn't be crazy, people are normal
***~***
Seokjin wasn't really excited about starting at a new university when his old one was already neat. Alas, he had to move to a cheaper place, and that cheaper place was right next to an affordable university too, and he didn't want to wake up an extra hour early to catch the train to go to his other college. Granted, he came from a wealthy family, but that family also had ideas that they should not pretend as if their comfortable world is the only thing that exists, so his parents made him work for his own money, with exceptions being if he is 1. in a hospital or 2. needs some emergency money.
And Seokjin is a good child, so he happily abided to those rules.
But sometimes Seokjin just wants to extract all the money (or most of it at least because his conscious would still nag at him) in his bank account, buy a penthouse, quit his job at the gym and just live on food delivery as he gets his weekly allowance from his brother (because his brother still has a soft spot for him). | cff5e1f4e6f242479cf859404bb6a307 | ['d027e3c60dfd4632ad62b55543334c80'] | "Eomma, I'm home!" 15 year old Hakyeon said, stepping into the one-room apartment. When hearing silence Hakyeon sighed, she was at her job now. He placed his backpack down and walked towards his room. After changing he walked towards the kitchen and grabbed himself cookies and milk and went to sit back down at the living room. He had began on his homework when he felt a shudder going down his spine. He ignored it and only continued while bobbing his head along to the beat of Exo's song love me right. Again, goosebumps kept going down his arms and legs. He let out an annoyed groan and stood up to grab his jacket. Just as he turned around he caught sight of a man standing in the middle. "Hakyeon....." he began. Hakyeon froze, eyes widening when seeing him. "Hyuk....." Hakyeon replied, surprisingly feeling nothing. Hyuk stood there awkwardly, his clothes familiar to Ken's. Hakyeon only sat back down and resumed his homework, much to Hyuk's surprise.
"Hakyeon.... I..... how, how've you been..?" Hyuk asked, clearly not knowing what to say. Hakyeon took a deep breath, feeling his anger rising back up. "I've been doing fine thank you..." he sneered, slamming his math workbook shut. He looked up at the clock and ran towards his room, leaving a confused Hyuk. "What's going on-?" Hyuk asked but went quiet when he saw Hakyeon running down in a flimsy work uniform.
"What-" Hyuk asked again but was met with the sight of a very angry Hakyeon. "Just shut up and stay here! I'll be back and once that happens then we can talk" he said and locked the door shut. Hyuk stood there in shock. Had Hakyeon really raised his voice at him?
He took a deep breath and sat back down, finally taking notice of the new home. He walked around the apartment, checking to see if he could clean up a bit. He was hoping that could cheer Hakyeon up when he came back home and once he found the dirty dishes, he went straight to work. After doing such Hyuk wandered off into the rooms, causing him to stumble upon Hakyeon's room. He stepped inside, smiling at the comfort feeling. The bedroom was simple, a desk in the corner filled with workbooks and pencils and pens, the bed neatly made, the room well cleaned.
Hyuk sighed as he sat down on the bed. What would he say to Hakyeon? "Oh yeah I came back so you wouldn't be alone but my time's running out so I can't stay forever" yeah as if that would be a good thing to say.
"You have to take care of him Hyuk.... we can't stay with him forever unless one of us manages to stop him from believing..."
The words that Leo said went through Hyuk's mind in an instant. Hyuk sighed as he laid down on the bed. Time was a precious thing to them. They had to act quickly if they wanted to come back to Hakyeon.
*~*
Hakyeon arrived home after 3 hours, completely exhausted and worn out. He lazily shut the door and plopped down on the couch, forgetting that a certain man was waiting for him. He was about to go to sleep when he heard someone clear their throat. Hakyeon sprang up and turned around to see Hyuk swaying lightly with a giddy smile. Hakyeon groaned and rubbed his eyes. "You're still here...." he muttered feeling annoyed. Hyuk raised his eyebrows but said, "yeah I am.... not planning on leaving either". Hakyeon snorted and smirked, "yeah sure whatever...". Hyuk's eyebrows furrowed as he saw the attitude Hakyeon was showing.
"Hakyeon.... if I were you I'd watch my tone..." Hyuk said in a low voice. "Yeah but you're not me and I'm not you so I get to speak however I want to speak!" Hakyeon sneered, daring to look up at him. Hyuk glared at him and stepped closer, " listen, I get that you're mad but that doesn't mean you disrespect me like this-".
"Actually yes it does!! I can disrespect you because all you ever did was leave me alone so why shouldn't I confront you about it? You promised to stay with me but no you all just left without an explanation! And guess what?? Even when you say you'll stay you'll leave me anyway! That's what Ken and Ravi hyung did! So don't you dare promise anything because you'll break it!" Hakyeon screamed, feeling all his anger pour out once more. Hyuk said nothing as he realized what Hakyeon was saying was true. They had left the boy alone when he most needed them. They had left without an explanation. They had abandoned Hakyeon.
"Hakyeon..... Hakyeon..... Hakyeon listen to me Hakyeon please...." Hyuk pleaded taking steps closer and closer, each step he took causing Hakyeon to step away. It came to the point where Hakyeon's back was on the wall and Hyuk trapped him between his arms. "Hakyeon..... I'm sorry..... we didn't mean to..... we loved you so much we couldn't stay..... we couldn't stay or else we'd be hurting you..." Hyuk whispered, noticing Hakyeon's shaking figure.
Hakyeon screwed his eyes shut as he placed his hands on his ears to try and block out Hyuk's words. He didn't seem to notice the tears falling until he felt Hyuk's thumb carefully wipe them away. He flinched away from his touch and whimpered, making Hyuk's heartbreak. Hyuk gently pulled his hands away from his ears making Hakyeon fight against his grip. Hyuk however, tightened his grip on his wrists and placed his forehead against Hakyeon's own. Hakyeon kept whining against his grip but let Hyuk envelop him in his arms. Hakyeon couldn't help but accept the warmth. He couldn't help but fist Hyuk's shirt and place his forehead against his chest as he sobbed. Hakyeon couldn't help release all of his pain in that moment either. |
a3460edbf2584b46978a61925907f306 | ['d064d35c8ff34ccea1e8e210d386cf8e'] | When Uhtred returns from the hall that night, he seems unsurprised to find Leofric in his house and in his bed. He bolts the door behind him without hesitation, and makes his way across the room.
“Ragnar offered me a place in the hall,” Uhtred says, when he sees that Leofric is awake, watching him. His cloak drops to the floor. “I said here would suit fine. I see you agree.”
Leofric pulls back the furs in lieu of an answer, allowing Uhtred to slide in next to him. It warms him to know that Uhtred could have stayed with his family but chose to return here, where he expected Leofric to be.
“You smell like a tavern,” he says instead.
“So do you,” Uhtred returns, but presses closer anyway.
* * *
They wake early, a thin finger of pale light just beginning to push through the gap between window covering and frame. It slants across the curve of Uhtred’s shoulder like a caress. Leofric traces it with a gentle fingertip.
Outside, all is quiet.
Uhtred’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but there is no mistaking the intent in them. He moves against Leofric, slowly at first, after long years unused to each other’s bodies, but quickly growing bolder.
* * *
Leofric finds Uhtred in the hall later, practising movements with his sword. He does not pause as Leofric settles on one of the benches, watching him drill through the motions. A slight tremor in his arm is the only sign that he is not back to full strength.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Leofric asks quietly, after a while.
Uhtred turns to him immediately, his arms dropping to his sides. Leofric can tell that he knows what he is referring to—there is a sorrow in his eyes that Leofric can read every shade of. The memory sits heavily with him too.
“How much longer are you going to deny yourself?” he asks. “You cannot escape who you are. Blood and bone, you are Bebbanburg.” It is a vain attempt to remind Uhtred of his birthright, in the face of all Uhtred’s assertions that he is Dane, and he knows it.
Before Uhtred can respond, the shadows at the doorway shift, and Osferth steps into the hall, wringing his hands nervously. Leofric gives him what he hopes is an encouraging smile.
Osferth looks over at Uhtred. “Lord?”
“What is it, Osferth?” There is an irritation in Uhtred’s voice that Leofric knows was intended for him.
“Forgive me, Lord,” Osferth stammers, “I have not said. I loved her, Lady Gisela.” Leofric can see Uhtred flinch. No one has yet dared to mention her in front of him, Leofric included. Osferth presses on regardless. “She was always kind to me, Lord. I’ll pray for her soul, if that’s acceptable.”
There is the barest of pauses before Uhtred says, “It is, Osferth. Thank you.”
Leofric watches the boy depart, until the darkness swallows him once more. When he looks back, he is surprised to find Uhtred’s eyes already on him. Leofric hopes he can read the apology in his expression.
“You know I regret it,” Uhtred says, moving over to sit next to Leofric, their arms brushing as he settles, “not taking Bebbanburg last time I had the chance. But you also know why I couldn’t.”
Leofric can only nod. Perhaps he is a coward for not being able to talk of Gisela, even now. But Uhtred does not seem to mind.
“Now is not the time either,” he says decisively. “I cannot abandon my brother again.”
* * *
Ragnar, too, is delighted to have his brother with him once more. He plays host eagerly, and the next few days pass with games and ale in equal measure. Uhtred's smiles become easier, more frequent. Even the men seem at ease. It is enough for Leofric to feel grateful, despite all that has passed.
He and Uhtred find plenty of time for themselves too, spending long nights curled together in the house that has quickly come to feel like theirs.
It is almost easy to forget that there is a world beyond the walls.
* * *
Reality comes crashing around them soon enough.
One of Ragnar’s watchmen arrives with news that warriors are approaching the fortress. They stand on the battlements watching the group approach, their torches glowing brightly in the darkness.
“They are Danes,” Ragnar says.
“Definitely,” Uhtred agrees.
The men draw close enough to see their faces. It is Haesten and Bloodhair. There is no doubt as to why they are here.
“You are a long way from Beamfleot, Haesten,” Uhtred calls down.
“So, it is true,” Haesten says. “You are no longer Alfred’s oathman.”
Uhtred is quiet for a moment. Leofric looks across at him and sees the conflict on his face before he can cover it. “It is true,” he confirms.
It is clear that Haesten is reneging on his oath too. The peace Alfred tentatively managed to build is truly at an end.
“Do you have anything to say to me, Bloodhair?” Uhtred asks, turning his attention to the other Dane.
“Yes,” Bloodhair scowls. “You took what belongs to me. We have that matter to settle.”
Leofric fears that no matter what Skade has done to Uhtred, he will not be willing to relinquish her.
They cannot refuse the Danes entry. The situation is now even more dangerous.
Uhtred knows it. “They are here for one thing only, to speak of war and of Alfred.”
The men begin to ride towards the open gates. There is a face among them that is even more recognisable than Haesten and Bloodhair.
Aethelwold’s scheming truly knows no bounds.
* * *
“He is even more of an idiot than I thought,” Uhtred says, storming into the house.
Leofric looks up from where he is adding kindling to the fire. “Hmm?” | f8c0f41824cb407b8d9bdcdc1f3fa2af | ['d064d35c8ff34ccea1e8e210d386cf8e'] | He has been studying the guards' body language though, and there's something about it that worries him. He doesn't quite know why, but he gets the feeling that they're gearing up to die for their cause, rather than attempt to escape or face up to their actions. This puts Colin distinctly on edge.
He still can't talk to Tom to explain his fears though, what with the constant presence of guards and the fact that they are both gagged, obviously to prevent them from shouting for help. Instead, he's been left with only his thoughts for company, and that's not a good thing when he doesn't know if he's going to make it out of this alive. He has taken to fantasising about getting home; thinking of the simple things like eating a good meal and having a cup of coffee; having a bath; spending time in Malcolm's company.
Dwelling on thoughts of Malcolm are both comforting and devastating. Colin is still worried about his reaction to this situation, but knows that his friend is nothing if not professional, and that he'll do everything he possibly can to save Colin and Tom. Instead he comforts himself with thoughts of screwing up his courage if he makes it out of this alive and telling Malcolm how he feels. After all, even if Malcolm rejects him he'll still be his friend, and Colin can accept that. But if there's even a chance that Malcolm returns his feelings, then he's going to take it and not waste another opportunity. This situation has only proven that anything can happen to anyone, regardless of their role; in MI5, no one is safe. Although it's cliché, right now Colin can only agree that life is too short to hold things back. He desperately hopes he survives to tell Malcolm the truth.
* * *
An hour later, they know the identities of the seven men in the group. The team divides up to dig out everything they can on each of the men, focusing on where they live and cross referencing with the busiest areas of London. After another hour, they have locations for five of the men, and so far the most realistic chance is in an area near to Waterloo tube station: London's busiest.
While people are working on that, Malcolm is trying to trace what sort of explosives the group might be using and how they will carry out the attack. He goes through the CCTV footage again, and this time notices that there's a white van further down the street. He goes back onto the system and patches back into the CCTV for that area, focusing on finding the arrival of the van. After about 10 minutes Malcolm is successful: the van carries the group who took Colin and Tom.
Cleaning up the image means he can just about make out a logo which he runs through yet another database to find out who the van belongs to. Picking up the phone, he questions the company about renting out the van; it turns out they were contacted two days ago by a man looking to rent out three vans 'for a job'. The company had asked no questions about the nature of the job, but the name of the man ties with one of the group. Malcolm thanks them, hangs up the phone, and heads straight for Harry's office.
He knocks quickly and then pulls the door open before Harry has a chance to answer.
"Harry!" he exclaims breathlessly. "The group rented out three vans two days ago. They took Colin and Tom in one, but three?"
Harry cottons on immediately. "Three vans, each with a bomb in them in a busy London area? It'll be carnage," he shudders.
Malcolm nods. "We're still working on locations. Currently Waterloo Station seems the most likely target."
It's at that moment that Zoe bursts through the doors, exclaiming, "Oxford Street! One of the group rents a flat just off Oxford Street."
Harry and Malcolm stare at her in shock. Together, they rush out of Harry's office and towards the desks. Malcolm patches into the CCTV around the Oxford Street area for around the time that Colin and Tom were taken, scrubbing forwards until he finds the van heading along the main street. There's no CCTV down the street the man lives on, but the presence of the van indicates that that's where their colleagues are being held.
Harry instructs Malcolm to keep going through the CCTV for the surrounding areas, checking to see if he can find the other two vans. It's too late to make sense for the group to attack now, as Oxford Street is not at its busiest in the evening, so the team concludes that the bombs will go off tomorrow about midday, when the shopping crowd is out in full force. However, the group may have already positioned the vans, or be about to mobilise them, so that they're in place ready for tomorrow. Malcolm therefore spends the rest of the night constantly watching the CCTV feeds.
Meanwhile, Special Branch have been mobilised to check out the houses of the rest of the group, just to make sure that they haven't been thrown a curveball and Tom and Colin are actually being held elsewhere. It's very early in the morning when confirmation comes through that the other six houses are empty; the group must be all together then, holding Tom and Colin in the seventh location. At least that's what Malcolm hopes; when the bombs are diffused and SO19 storm the flat, if Colin and Tom are not there, it will be too late to save them.
6. Day of the Attack |
cc5b66035d5a4f38b67a20553acab91a | ['d09196aca746429b971caebe4e4b3c28'] | Two Cells and a Flower...
Harley smiled as she looked up at the impossibly blooming flower on her cell's ceiling above her bunk, the outer grey giving way to the alternating red and black of the inner petals. Closing her eyes she prepared to sleep.
The feel of phantom kiss to her lips snapped her awake and she looked around. Getting up she sweept her cell for intruders before relaxing and getting back into bed to relax before sleep once more.
A kiss to her cheek saw her explode in movement, but once more she had to come to the conclusion that no-one was there with her.
After reposing once more she looked up at the little flower, smiled and closed her eyes once more.
The next week saw Harley get more and more frustrated as phantom kisses continued to happen just before sleep, though no more than once or twice each night. Frustrated in more ways than one. Frustrated enough to decide to try something new...
She smiled as she put her hidden treasure in place; an almost invisible mask of film to cover her face. Invisible, but very sticky on the outside with a special glue...
The feeling of being touched lightly woke her, rather than being kissed. Checking her mask Harley smiled and carefully laid it out in front of her. A single petal lay stuck to it. When she gently touched the petal a feeling of being kissed on the fingertip preceeded the petal disolving, at which point she swore as her own mask glued itself to her hand.
Freed and cleaned again she place the mask back on again, this time with something that would catch the petal but allow her to shake it off afterwards, and went back to her 'sleep'. A second touch and she carefully pulled the mask off before brushing the petal gently with the tip of a feather, watching it curl and disappear.
Another week passed, and each night Harley caught every petal, teasing each one while her smile broadend.
Poison Ivy squirmed as she sat in the middle of her cell, a smile plastered on her face. Harley truely was a gorgeously frustrating human. | c0fde7ff5a634f74b05e6171863bb062 | ['d09196aca746429b971caebe4e4b3c28'] |
Yshara, the Hand of Elune
Yshara sighed as she slipped into the seat of her new Eagle, finally accepting her role in life would not be that of the Oldest Profession. No, not prostitute, that was mearly the fourth oldest. How could someone trade their own body, if there was no system in place to trade within? No, the Oldest Profession was Trader, as any member of Yshara's family would tell you. Trader was Oldest, but as soon as you have the ability to trade things people want you get someone who wants those things enough to take them, by force. This makes Pirate the Second Profession. And if you have those who take, you need those who will Protect. Trader, Pirate and Protector, they were the first professions.
Followers of the Triple Goddess Elune like Yshara and her family knew this truth, as they also knew each had it's dark side. Trade could profit all, or it could produce profit that hurt those who created the goods it traded. Pirates could take only what their prey could afford allowing both sides to continue to make profit, or they could murder and destroy their way across the galaxy. And Protectors could either be a shining shield for humanity, or a crushing force swallowing all freedoms. Yshara's path was to be one of the darker shields, a Bounty Hunter. Someone who protected traders by hunting down those who preyed upon them. She'd once dreamed of being a trader, and maybe even managing to be one of the few of her family to gain the coveted Elite Trader status, but as war, rebellion and revolution started to spread once more amongst the stars she'd found herself in a different position.
She'd gained her first ship, a beaten-up Sidewinder passed down through the family called Elune's Path, and had filled its tiny hold with a few tonnes of Bauxite from LHS 3447 that she hoped to sell to Frigaha for a small profit, the first of many trades on the way to Elite. However, when she reached the Nav Point of she'd found another trader under attack by pirates. Without even thinking of the risk she'd powered up her two pulse lasers and attacked, managing to gain her first kill and allowing the other trader to leave with life and cargo intact. As the adrenaline rush had subsided Yshara realised what she'd done and fled to the closest station where she'd traded her cargo for a little less of a profit than she'd expected, while the grateful station had re-filled and repaired her ship for cost price. As they did so they told her of how the local pirate gang had grown bolder, taking more and more ships and forcing a lock-down of the system by the authorities that didn't seem to be helping the situation.
While she had done well in her first fight Yshara knew she was still a novice when it came to combat, plus she'd made a profit and was going to become an Elite Trader. It was then that her comms channel had come to life with a mayday, requesting any ships in the area come to help as one of the pirate gang's better ships was attacking everyone at the system's Nav Point. A surge had rung in her ears as she'd requested immediate take-off and before she knew it, Yshara's Sidewinder was hurtling through space toward the battle. When she got there she found a mess. Massive furballs of ships, pulses and beams of light stabbing through the black, shadows flitting across the sun in front of her as defenders and attackers alike fought furiously. Scanning the battle ahead of her, she found the main pirate vessel, a Viper, that was leading the two wings of pirates. While the system security ships were doing a good job of harassing it, they weren't quite good enough to take it out. Planning her first pass Yshara dove into the fight, pulse lasers blazing a line across the Viper before becoming embroiled in the battle.
Her memories of that battle were confused, the sound of charging shields, explosions, the patter of weapon fire against her own shields, and most gloriously her ship's computer saying "Target destroyed". Then she'd found the rest of the pirates were either fleeing or dead, and a bounty note flashing up on her screen that was many times the small profit her first trade had brought her. This time her journey back to the station was a slow one, full of thought. During the short trip she decided to at least give trading one more go, after all she might not be as lucky next time. Not only that, but the twenty thousand credits she was going to pick up meant a bigger hold and the money to fill it with something better than the Bauxite that had brought her here.
She had only just managed to refuel and repair, however, when the news came through. One of the gang's leaders, in a Feu De Lance, had appeared and was taking revenge for their recent defeat. Not only that, but Yshara was being called out by name!
Her heart sinking, Yshara knew she had to answer that call. Either that or give up her dreams of becoming an Elite trader forever. She'd never get a chance to trade with that sort of mark on her, and all other piloting professions would push her to fighting or joining the pirates that had placed the mark. She steeled her nerves and called for permission to undock, ignored the relief in the voice giving her that permission, and punched the button to supercruise to get her to the system's nav point as quickly as possible. Coming out of supercruise she was relived to find ships from the local security company still fighting, and so, broadcasting her acceptance of the challenge to the FDL she attacked.
Again her memory of the battle fragmented. Light from the star silhouetting the deadly triangle of the FDL, the terrifying view of the FDL's main weapon flashing above her cockpit as she yanked at the controls of her Sidewinder, desperately reassigning power as different systems blared their needs her own lasers pulsing out toward the enemy and then, unbelievably, the sight of the FDL exploding...
The bounty flashed on her screen. Thirty thousand credits. That meant in her two battles she'd earnt almost sixty thousand. Enough for a Hauler, but she'd have to start with Bauxite again. Or. Or she had enough to buy an Eagle *and* outfit its third hardpoint. With her thoughts in a jumble she claimed the bounty from the local station and jumped back to the LHS 3447 system. On the long flight from the system's main star Gliese A to Worlidge station she came to the conclusion that Elune had obviously chosen her to be on of Her Protectors, a Hand of Elune, one who spent the time allotted to them finding those who preyed on the Traders not for profit but for fun, sending them to meet Elune's justice. Her decision was reinforced by the message she found almost hidden on the station bulletin board, asking all who could help protect the trade routes to to come join the wings forming there.
The Eagle, newly outfitted and named "Hand of Elune" glistened under the station lights as Yshara approached. Caressing it's skin she turned and entered, ready to take the path before her. |
6a88fea65e7d439790ec47e8bdf88392 | ['d09d731f6bb34f849b2d3bf3b6c67bcf'] | Ophelia laughs, a low amused sound that sends a shiver down more than one spine, and rests her cheek in her upturned palm without care. Crowley must look about as love-struck as Lempi does in that moment, both of them moths drawn to their Queen’s light. “Who says we can’t have seconds?” Crowley replies a bit breathlessly, unable to hide the shred of awe in her voice with eyes still on Ophelia, and Lempi can’t help it when she laughs at the phrasing.
It’s a light happy thing, the first glimpse of stars beyond the fog, and she hasn’t felt this way in a very long time. Long enough to forget what it was like to have sunlight in her heart, forget what it was like to have people that made her grin bright and easy rather than something rough around the edges. Love isn’t a panacea, something that would fix the world, but…
Damn if it wasn’t one of the sweetest things to have now and then.
( _This is what starlight tastes like,_ Lempi thinks almost tipsily while kissing down Ophelia’s neck, drunk on her lovers’ touches, their kisses. Makes a soft sound when Crowley’s hand slips up the back of her shirt, nails dragged down her spine carefully, teasingly. Both of them taste like blackberry wine when she kisses them, and she melts into their embraces.)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes, I did research to see what kinds of wines were real. Yes, blackberry wine is real. These are the kinds of things I google, lmao.
4. Exhibitionism/Against a wall (Doom AU canon)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Crowley is a flirt, and Lem is a weak bastard who can't refuse. Even if it means a sore back, _he's getting dicked._
The Doom loves its ruins, its crumbling decadence.
From the shores of the Sea to the outskirts of the Dry Ice Mines, there are the echoes of lives long since gone. Half-fallen walls, remains of old iron-wrought fences, stone shaped in ways only humans would do. Who else could have such a fascination with memorializing the dead, with angel statues and engraved tombstones, words long since faded by the elements? Everything was rounded off and softened by the rains, overtaken by nature where the Doom hadn’t cleared it away, and for what it’s worth the Doom lands had a kind of…charm to them, because of that.
It was a land half-forgotten, and what better place for the living dead?
Any other time, any other day, he’d be wandering here with his partners. Taking a breather from plans of battle and war, murmuring sweet nothings when the mood struck them, laughter and conversation drifting easily through the air. Still figuring out where they stood with each other, how to go about things, but in a way that felt natural as breathing.
Today, however…
He’s got Ophelia’s commands ringing in his ears, a Frightwig chittering to him about the group of Headbangers headed this way, and the lingering memory of this morning as his only comfort. Waking up to kisses and murmured endearments, Ophelia’s breathless moan of “Lem,” against his neck, Crowley’s calloused hand pressed against his back…
He closes his eyes for a moment to center himself, before falling in with the Brides. A raven among a flock of doves, and they are beautiful, terrifying, all in one fell swoop. The duster keeps the bass strap from cutting into his neck, the weight of the coat close to an embrace, and today he doesn’t want to go to war, doesn’t want to fight. All he wants is his partners by his side, and some fucking _rest._
But he’s got a job to do, a bass line to play, and hopefully this will all be over soon.
*
He’s between healing groups of Doom, taking cover behind part of a collapsed wall when someone lands with a heavy step behind him, and he turns around already lashing out with an arm-
Black wings with a vague feathery look, tan jacket, dark skin, _Crowley._ When a cool hand catches his arm, a smug expression crossing his partner’s face, he lets it stay caught. Can’t help the sheer feeling of relief that sweeps over him as he’s helped up, Crowley pressing a brief kiss to his gloved hand.
“Darling Groom, where’ve you been all my life,” Crowley rumbles, voice low and with a slight rasp that makes his mouth go dry, but he snorts anyways. Manages to steal back his hand so he can set his bass aside, and replies as evenly as he can “Doin’ my fuckin’ job, unlike some people.” The bark of a laugh that earns makes him close his eyes for a moment, trying to commit it to memory. Crowley’s laughter was either raspy and worn from a day of shouting orders, or low and absolutely fucking breathtaking in the darkness of a room, loud and free in the strange light of day.
Any time he heard it, heard either of his partners laugh, it felt like healing for the first time. The rush of magic thrumming through his veins, compounded with joy because finally, finally, it worked. Everything made sense, fit into place, and the world was a brighter place knowing that, knowing them.
But a gentle touch to his cheek brings him out of his thoughts, and there’s a certain quirk to Crowley’s mouth. A sort of tenderness that’s almost tangible in a strange way, only able to be felt by how their magic tangles together, intertwines. Healer’s gift and the Sea’s touch, what used to be terrifying whispers turned into sweet nothings, and somehow it works. | 6508bcc00e5d40d0afd2f83cb61f85cd | ['d09d731f6bb34f849b2d3bf3b6c67bcf'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The theme for the Brütal Legend Zine was cross-faction friendship, and this one was actually written while I was on the road last July!
> Urban fantasy was one of the first genres I fell in love with, so this is a tip of the hat to the Dresden Files, the Nightside series, and some others of their kind. This is the first time I used Paige as Ophelia's last name, as well as Robin Eld for the Fire Baron.
>
> This is the full unedited version, as some things needed to be cut for length in the zine version.
>
> Title come from Black Fire Upon Us by Dethklok.
Friday nights at The Bus tended to be Eddie’s favorite time of the week, when the moon wasn’t trying to dick him over hard-core and he could actually swing a visit. Decent cover bands, good beer on tap, and if he sat at the bar early enough no one would fuck with him. Perks of the bar being neutral territory, and knowing the wizard in charge. Everyone knew you didn’t fuck with Mangus’ place, because you’d be put in the ground _quick_ by some of the thick-necked half orcs who’d kinda adopted the place as their chill zone.
So after a long day, where the closeness of the moon is getting under his skin, making him all twitchy, he heads on over. Manages a half-hearted finger-gun at one of the half-orc guys who yells “Eddie!” when he walks in, cause the guy is usually great to talk about thrash metal with, but his brain is just _fried_ right now. He wants a nice mug of something cold, something loud on stage to drown out the feedback in his head, not think or talk to anyone at all.
Try to forget the string of unanswered texts on his phone, and the fact Lita was giving him death glares more often than not the last two weeks whenever she stopped by the record shop.
When he gets to the bar though, he has to resist the urge to growl. There’s the sticky sweet stench of death wafting over from the Goth looking gal in his usual spot, and any other day he could handle a bloodsucker. Grin and bear it, cause y’don’t start shit at The Bus unless you want to be banned and he would never risk that. But tonight, tonight of all times…he just wants to talk to someone who’s already in the know on this shit. Not deal with a fucking _tick._
He huffs as he ends up in the seat next to her, pointedly ignoring her entire existence as he catches Mangus’ attention with a quick whistle followed by a playful salute. It earns a delighted grin, and he pulls in one of Baron’s guys to take his place as bartender as he wanders over to their end wiping his hands off on a spare cloth. “Hey, Eddie! Where’ve you been, man? Feels like it’s been ages.”
“Aw, y’know.” Eddie begins, making a dismissive gesture trying to act cool. “Oz is fine, work’s fine, though Lita… pretty sure if we ran together this weekend, she’d get, y’know, _bitey._ ” He snaps his teeth jokingly, raising a hand to mime a scratch, and the gal next to him snorts. When he turns to look at her, quirking an eyebrow in question, she has her hand in front of her mouth, and the makeup under her eyes looks… drippy, gloopy even, like she got in a fight with one of mermaids down at the docks.
To be honest, with the way her hair is hanging and the whole entire vibe she gives off, she could be waterlogged with filled lungs and he’d never even know it. Vamps did some weird shit, once it finally sunk in that they were dead.
“Thought fleabags didn’t like fighting each other,” She says, and that nearly gets him to snap because _None of your fucking business, lady._ He ain’t the one guzzling blood by the ounce, or sleeping upside down or hiding in crypts. He just wants to angst in peace, damnit, not have this bloodsucker make fun of him.
“Oh, fuck off, you tick _._ It’s my boyfriend’s sister, she thinks I know why he’s gone.” He replies a bit bitterly, reminded of how Lita called him up outta the blue. Demanded to know where he was last night, if he saw Lars, the pure anger of ‘ _Where’s my brother then, Eddie?’_ even as his heart cracked. Knowing in that moment the last time he’d seen him was a day or two before on a lunch break, where Lars popped in to show him some lyrics he’d been working on. Looking so proud, so excited as he showed him the new work for Ironheade. He’d kissed him on the forehead, after tucking some of that beautiful blond hair behind his ear, and said they should go to The Bus together on Friday.
Lars never showed up that night, and here they were two weeks later.
“My name’s Ophelia, not tick, you dog,” She snaps almost instantly, but then the rest seems to sink in and… something about her face changes, then. The brief glint of anger in her eye fizzles out, the corners of her mouth lose that cutting edge, and she looks more like she’s wearing a mask rather than being genuine in her insults. Maybe something like regret or tiredness enters her eyes. |
f8d86a5461b5444b976b669c16a2874e | ['d09db04bad15426fba91c3aa2ad39bb6'] | A shining new metal arm was attached to him and she really wondered how she didn't first see it. She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.
“How ?”
“Stark. He kept me under observations and ran exams on me for two _long_ days..And some more test after they attached it..”
She nods, and her fingers ghosts over the place where the metal meets the skin.
“Does it hurt ?” she asks as her fingers is connecting the freckles resting on his collarbone.
“Not really”, he hisses. She stops. “'am ticklish.”
“Oh.”
She retracts her hand, but he grabs it back, the metal is cold against her skin but she can get used to it.
“Doesn't mean you have to stop.” A pause. “ I needed to see you.”
“Why ?”
He shrugs.
“Kinda missed you.”
She would lie if she denied the warm feeling in her chest at the sound of his words. She tried to fight back the smile, but she couldn't, she couldn't and he smiles too and she likes his smile, likes how it eases the tension on his face when he does, and she tells herself that he should always be smiling, he should always be laughing and grinning, because it's her second favorite sight in the whole world. Right after her brother's face.
“I could hear you. When I was in the cryo. I could feel your presence somehow.. And I don't know but.. It put me at ease. I felt .. safer, knowing you were there. But sometimes, I heard you.. crying.. and I wanted out, but I couldn't ..”
His words dies and she sighs. She shakes her head, not wanting to go down that road again.
“It's over now. We're safe.”
He doesn't answer, and the silence fills the space around them, their fingers are intertwined between them and she is putting every feature of his to her memory. She doesn't want to forget his face, she doesn't ever want not see his face, not even for a day.
“Why aren't you afraid of me ?”
And it's the same voice, the same tone, of a man who's not certain, who doesn't know what to do, who's seen awful things and done far worse, , who knows how to instigate fear in a simple look, who's afraid of himself most. And she remembers, the tales of Bucky, _Buck_ , Steve's bestfriend, the one with the big smile, the one who always had mint-chocolate candy eventhough he hated it, the one who fought in line next to his bestfriend. And that's who she sees. She sees _him_. She sees James.
“I don't see you as a threat.” she repeats.
“You should.”
She shrugs. She doesn't know if he's right, a part of her tells her that he is and that she should but another one, bigger, tells herself that they're not so different, that they're the same. Two young people, endoctrined to be something else, something bigger than them, trained to be weapons, used to kill. But she got her second chance. He deserves his.
“Well, I'll find a safe place to run to if I need to.”
He looks at her then brings her closer to her, buries his face in her neck and his breath tickles her but she likes having it there, knowing it's there, _he_ 's there.
“You're my safe place.”
She smiles against his ear and she humms against his hair. And she thinks really hard, hoping that the silent words travels to him, because she doesn't trust her voice, doesn't trust her heart , doesn't trust herself as she's so close to him, so close, too close, _not close enough_.
_You're mine too, James._
And he kisses her hair and she sighs in contentment.
“I really like how my name sounds in your voice.”
And she smiles, and it's nice, a real one, and she can't help but think that she's okay, she's really okay, so she scoots closer to him, and let his heartbeat take her away.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The end of this first part... equel? I have already started writing more for them, what can I say. I love them too much.
**Author's Note:**
> Hey everybody, his is my first work here, and my first winterwitch fiction so let me know what you think!
> It's also on tumblr : cuddlingmess.tumblr.com/tagged/in+the+dark | d16f7ab7ecc44df79d6861c58be6c8da | ['d09db04bad15426fba91c3aa2ad39bb6'] | “You were drinking last night, I don't know how much you had before I talked to you, but yeh, I guess quite a few. And you seemed so sad, I reckoned, I had never seen someone look so sad. But then you started talking about this guy, this Tony , and even though you were sad, your eyes lit up when you talked about him. And like you were obsessed with him. Literally obsessed and then you suddenly freaked out and then, you kissed me and it was so weird, because you started crying right after. And all the while you kept whispering things about this Tony , weird things like you wanted him to come home, why did he leave you after something like this, and I could tell that you were in shock, so I took you home.”
Steve listens to Greg's words and images from last night resurface in his mind and pieces of what happened make their way back to him. He does remember meeting Greg at the bar, and kissing him and breaking down in his arms. As the memories comes back to him, he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out again ; he's full of shame and he hates that someone saw him like this.
“I'm so sorry, I swear, If I had known , I..”
“It's alright really.” Greg says. “ It's not like I expected something from you. You looked pretty heart broken and in need of letting it go.”
“Guess I was..”
Steve looks down at his mug , still full as he reminisces on the words he has said about Tony. It's crazy how his breakdowns seem to happen more often, and everytime Tony seems to be involved one way or another. He shakes his head and runs his hands over his face.
“I'm so sorry, and if there's any way I could thank you for taking me home safely..”
“Come on, it's nothing.”
Greg smiles at Steve and this time, Steve returns him, a genuine one, because why not smile at someone who let him pour his hear out and cry on his shoulder ? And he's a nice person, Steve can tell, not a lot of people would have acted the way he did. In the worst cases, Steve would be dead right now.
“Well, I should go. I still have to head home and take a shower, because I am smelling beer and cheap wine.” Greg exclaims and Steve doesn't know why but he just bursts out laughing at Greg's words, and the two of them laugh for a while, before Greg heads towards the door, Steve following him.
“So if you ever need to get home safely after a few drinks, you know who to call.” Greg winks at him as he puts on his jacket.
“Will do.” Steve chuckles and they bid eachother goodbye.
Steve closes the door behind Greg and sighs. The flat is so quiet now without Greg's voice to fill up the silence. Steve quite likes the guy, he's funny and cheerful, he likes those kind of people, they're the life of the party, the one everybody knows. He kind of reminds Steve of Bucky in some ways, and of Tony in more ways than possible. But Steve shakes that thought off his head. He needs to stop thinking about Tony, he needs to stop waiting on him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I made Steve drunk for a reason, okay? I know witht he serum, he technically can't get drunk, but it's a No Power/ Modern Royalty AU , so eventhough he's fit, he can still get drunk.
> Tell me what you think of the chapter :)
34. Chapter 34
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> HELLO HAPPY NEW YEAR 2017 ! I hope you had a great celebration and I wish you guys all th best for this new year! Here I am, with a new chapter! Hope you enjoy :D !
**xxxiv**. _Paraprosexia // constant distraction_
“So,not winter then ?”
“Winter is cold, _ew_ , I don't want a wedding in winter, hell no.”
“You haven't agreed to any of my suggestions, I'm starting to think you don't want a wedding.”
Tony turns to Pepper, stopping his coding process of his new project – an artificial intelligence, he's been thinking about this _for years_ , and he's now finally decided to start working on it since he's already finished all the new softwares and products for SI, and he works as a distraction from his recurrent thoughts of soft blonde hair and blue eyes in a dim light – and he sighs.
“Pep' , I told you, whatever you want to do, I'm fine with it.”
“Well, when I suggested winter, you said no.” Pepper retorts, tapping her pen on her clipboard.
“I just don't like winter that much, that's all. It's cold, everything's dull, it's not nice.”
“But imagine if there's snow, we could have such a beautiful ceremony in the snow..”
“How about early spring ?” Tony interrupts her. “ Spring is great for wedding. Flowers are blooming, the sun is coming out again, everything is beautiful in spring !” |
0ef2e66b7100465c8f3681a44537d77d | ['d09fc1f680704ae49257b12377dfea80'] |
**Author's Note:**
> authors note: This is a season 6 AU and will touch on past weecest. Also apologies for the formatting!
Present:
On the third floor of a motel room outside Milwaukie, Wisconsin, Dean Winchester jolted awake from a dead sleep to the sound of his brother crying. Dean gasped, shoving himself up out of bed, instinctively grabbing for the large knife he kept under his pillow, his fingers curling around the handle.
“Sam?” Dean called looking at the bed next to him, his eyes scanning the room. “You okay?” Dean flipped the light on and relaxed.
“Hey, hey…Sammy shh, it’s okay.” He quickly put the knife down and pulled Sam to him. “It’s okay, Sammy, I’m right here. Just a nightmare. Youre safe.” Dean felt Sam’s fists curl into the fabric of his shirt as he rocked him. “That’s right Sammy.” Dean said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “Dean’s right here. I’m going to keep you safe okay? He rubbed circles on his little brother’s back, rocking gently and cleared his throat; “You want me to sing Sammy?” Dean asked, “You always liked that. Remember we used to put soft rock on for you to go to sleep to.” Dean hummed their mother’s song, keeping Sam close and after twenty minutes Sam was asleep again.
Dean carefully laid Sam back down in his bed and pulled the blankets up around him, kissing his head and ruffling his hair a bit.
Sams mouth curled into a small smile as he dreamed.
That one wasn’t as bad as the last four had been. Sam waking up in the middle of the night, screaming, crying, had become something Dean knew to expect given everything he had been through, was still going through.
“It’ll be okay.” Dean thought as he pulled his clothes, tossing them with the growing pile in corner and made a mental note to at least wash Sam’s stuff in the laundry room downstairs. Dean grabbed a fresh towel off the sink and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear Sam if he woke up again. He doubted he would. The nightmares left Sam exhausted, but Dean didn’t want to risk it.
Dean turned he hot water on full blast and climbed into the shower, letting the spray hit his back and relax his muscles.
“It’ll be okay.” He said again, this time out loud, letting himself hear the words. “He’ll be okay.” Dean didn’t know how much of that he really believed. He knew what Hell and torture does to people; can’t even begin to imagine the kind Sam has been through. But Dean didn’t figure it really mattered, because he’s here. Dean meant it when he told Cas all he wanted was his brother. Alive. Sam was different now, would be for a long time. But he was still Sammy. He still smiled and looked at Dean with love and trust just like he always had before. It was still Sam and Dean against the world.
Dean closed his eyes drifting against the tiles until the water turned cold. He groaned and stood, water dripping off him. He quickly dried off and pulled on boxers before settling down in his own bed. It was almost four in the morning, Sam would be awake bright eyed and bushy tailed by seven. Dean yawned and pulled up his own blankets. He could go on a couple hours easily.
“Night Sammy.” Dean whispered as he carefully pushed his hand through the bars of the crib, resting his index finger on top of Sam’s small hand, smiling as the baby’s fingers curled reflexively around it.
******************************************************************************
Three weeks earlier:
Dean figured if “impulsive” ever became a sport he would win the gold medal. It was how at fourteen he got arrested for stealing, had gotten a few rashes from one nightstands, and how he ended up selling his soul at a crossroad. Yeah, impulse control was not his strong point. Persistence though. Dean excelled at that.
“I’m getting really tired of asking.” Dean growled as he circled the Devils Trap, his eyes locked on a chubby preteen girl with thick glasses and a sinister look, sitting in a chair in the middle of the circle.
“How many cats have you killed?” she asked, hooking her leg over her knee and folding her arms. “Poor things are going to be on the endangered species list before the month is out.”
“You think I care about a few cats or cutting into a teenager?”
The demon chuckled. “vinegar and honey, Dean.” She turned her head following Dean. “Besides, what you’re asking. None of us could do even if we wanted to. You really think any of us got the juice to pull baby brother out of Lucifer’s Cage?” Dean stepped forward and grabbed a handful of hair jerking the girls head back; “Bullshit.” He pressed the jagged blade of Ruby’s knife against her throat. “I don’t believe you.”
“Go ahead then;” She challenged, tilting her head back looking up at him “Keep summoning demons, again and again. We’ll tell you the same thing.”
Dean pressed harder and moved his hand making a small scratch. “Last chance bitch…” He warned.
“Do you know how insanity is defined Dean?” She blinked, eyes black; “It’s repeating the same task over and over and expecting a different result.”
“I prefer persistence pays.” Dean raised the blade, stepped away and smirked. “Time to go back downstairs.”
“I’ll tell baby brother you said ‘hi’”
Dean really, really considered stabbing her, the girl she was wearing be damned. But instead he picked up the flask of holy water and dumped the entire thing on her, and through her threats and protests, chanted the exorcism. The girl opened her mouth, expelling the demon from her body and slumping forward against her binds. Dean swallowed and pressed two fingers to her neck feeling for a pulse. | b29fa2cbfec04b66b5a65436163f5c1a | ['d09fc1f680704ae49257b12377dfea80'] | “Coulda fooled me.” Dean commented, pushing his cock back in. “You’re a fucking natural.” He gave another hard thrust, moaning when he felt teeth graze his skin. “Just like that sweetheart, knew you could behave, c’mon swallow that fucking cock.” The demon used both hands, pushing down on the angel’s head and shoulder thrusting hard, making him choke and gag, throat tightening as he struggled to breathe. “Fuck, don’t you swallow…” Castiel whined, trying to pull away, eyes widening as his mouth filled.
‘Don’t you swallow…’ the warning echoed in his ear, and he fought the urge, looking up at his captor with tear filled eyes, and getting a victorious smirk. “Be good now baby…” Dean said softly, pulling his cock free and giving the angel’s cheek a light, almost playful slap, and went back to the table tucking himself back in. “That drugs gonna wear off in a minute sweetheart.” Dean explained picking up a leather belt snapping it against the rack making Castiel jump. ‘’And when it does, you’re gonna forget everything that just happened for the last few minutes. Do you understand?”
A cautious nod.
“Good.” Dean stepped back to him, gently turning his head forward, wrapping the belt around his neck and pulling it tight cutting off the angel’s air, making it impossible to swallow, or breathe, and in that instant, he watched the drugged haze leave Castiel’s eyes, and confused panic taking it’s place. Castiel thrashed wildly trying to expel the contents from his mouth. Dean covered his mouth and pinched the angel’s nose closed and laughed watching him struggle. “What’s wrong baby? Can’t breath? Know what you’re choking on my good little cock sucker?”
He watched in amusement as the other man’s face turned first red, and then purple, his struggles weakening, eyes rolling back. “Cas…..can you hear me baby?” Dean whispered in his ear. “Don’t you fucking spit on me again.”
While his subject stayed in unconsciousness Dean took the time to grab something to eat, had to make good use of that virgin laying in the corner. after all, torturing was hungry work, especially for someone so durable. While he waited, bones crunching between teeth, he heated the girl’s heart over a fire, deciding he preferred it raw and still beating and wondered how Castiel’s would taste good. He might have to try it. If the angel looked so pretty choking to death on cum he’d look stunning with his heart being cut out, nice and slow. But not right now. Now it was time to wake the angel up.
Wiping his mouth the demon bent down taking an iron fire poker out of the coals, heated red hot, and pressed it against Castiel’s stomach, the angel’s eyes snapping open as he began to struggle again. “Welcome back sweetheart!” Dean said cheerfully. “Don’t cha just love the smell of cooking flesh in the morning?” He snapped releasing the belt from Castiel’s neck grinning when he had to swallow to scream; “Fuck, please!!”
Dean pulled the poker away; “What was that sweetheart?”
“P-please…please Sir….” He begged, tears falling. “Please…”
He smirked and lowered the object. “Such a good boy all of a sudden, see how nice things can be if you behave, be my obedient little toy?” Castiel nodded, eyes cast down head lowered. “Please, Sir, I’ll be good, let me go.”
“Oh sweetheart…” The demon tisked and set the heated metal against the weights dangling from Castiel’s cock, his whole body jerking in agony. “Do I look that fucking stupid?” Dean pushed three fingers into the wound in Castiel’s stomach, moaning in his ear as the angel shrieked in pain. “Every trick you can try, I’ve had thousands of other souls attempt the same thing.” He twisted his fingers. “And none of them work on me.”
Castiel screamed.
“Know what I love about you sweetheart?” Dean asked. “Your dick is mutilated, and you still get hard for me.” He nipped the angel’s ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut, a good little whore who’s gonna beg nice and pretty for my cock. So, let’s hear it whore.” Dean pulled his hand free smiling at blood coated fingers, burnt flesh sticking, and pushed them into the angel’s mouth. “Suck them clean for me sweetheart, want you to taste yourself” He commanded and let the iron poker fall to the concrete floor and palmed Castiel’s blistered and burnt cock, chuckling at the whimper of pain that got him.
The angel moaned and thrusted into Dean’s hand, not completely unwillingly.
“Fuck, that’s hot…already getting hard for me.” Dean praised pushing another finger into Castiel’s mouth. “You beg I might even let you come.” He promised pumping Castiel’s cock nice and slow, brushing against the rings. “Pretty little virgin, gonna look beautiful all covered in blood and cum.”
“‘ease…” He choked out, “ ‘anna ‘e ‘ood…”
How fucking disappointing….Dean had hoped the angel would last longer.
One week had passed since Dean had broken the angel and made him into the perfect pet. He didn’t even need to keep him on the rack anymore, he obediently sat beside Dean’s table, chained and collared with a vibrator buzzing away softly, a ring around his still swollen and injured cock to keep him from coming, and watched his master torture the souls for hours upon hours, each one screaming and begging to give him anything he wanted.
When he’d decided to take a break from the newest soul, her throat slit wide and pouring blood, he released his pet from the chain. “C’mere pet.” The demon ordered pulling Castiel to him, who immediately lowered himself to all fours. Dean moved the toy around getting a soft moan of pleasure.”How many times have I used that hole today?” Dean asked giving his ass a hard slap. |
d43e923566d044f1b76acf4b1736ad93 | ['d0a02bc9c95444d68f643706a0b49d1f'] | It’s true he let her tinker with it before and nothing blew up. . .but…”Alright but...” not even sure what threat he would have made, he didn’t get the chance before his keys were ripped from his hand and he had to scramble into the passenger seat before she took off without him.
She was good, of course.
“So you would retire from all this” She stated, or was it a question after all.
“What I do on a job is not what I call fun.” Eliot told her matter-of-factly.
Parker frowned “you’re not having fun anymore?”
“It’s necessary and I like that I can help you,,, and Hardison and Sophie and Nate do good. But I don’t want to do this forever either.”
“We’re not on the same page.” Parker looked worried.
“I’m not going anywhere as long as you need me.” Not mentioning or noticing the fact that this time he left out,,,”and Hardison and Sophie and Nate.” Eliot knew he’d want to retire someday even told Sophie so, but someday was a ways away, as long as Parker was in, he was.
Even later
Parker was worried, she shouldn’t be though because she and Hardison were on the same page. And even though she strongly suspected that Nate and Sophie were thinking of retiring soon, she was okay with that, they were kind of like Archie, they taught her well.
It was Eliot that she was worried about, he said he wasn’t going anywhere and that made her smile, but for how long, and where would he go? It mattered to her, but she wasn’t sure why. Even days later she was wondering about it as she drifted off to sleep.
Parker is doing dishes. She turns, and when she looks back, Eliot is standing outside the window. She goes to the back yard to meet him. He’s carrying the briefcase, but drops it on the ground before touching her face and pulling her close.
Eliot: “Hi.”
Parker: “Hi.”
They share a sweet kiss.
Fade to a photo of their wedding. Parker puts on a record and dances toward Eliot.
Eliot: “Wonder if Santa’s in the area.”
Parker: “Maybe.”
Eliot: “Cheers.”
Parker: “Cheers.”
Parker wakes up "oh!" | 3b66656efbcf486db8cd11c22f11b00b | ['d0a02bc9c95444d68f643706a0b49d1f'] | "but yours are better. "
"thought you'd like hanging with a group especially after bein' with only a buncha teenage girls and Nate for the past week."
"So what was that look?"
Prompting her FLASHBACK
Parker was a tomboy growing up, it gave her a certain amount of protection in the system to act like one of the guys, then later when Archie found her he never taught her any different
People, normal people don't recover from a 30-foot fall...she wasn’t scared of that, but she was scared of things, kind of, she was afraid of letting the people she cared about down, she was no longer afraid that they would leave her at least on purpose. These kids she’d never be like them, but she understood them a bit more, and she missed her team her friends/family even more because of it.
“That was fun, but I’m glad I was never a real teenage girl. What kind of gymnast wouldn’t be excited about summersaulting through a field of lasers?” She exclaimed to the team, but to herself she thought. ((Of course, if I had been a real teenage girl maybe my feelings wouldn’t be so confusing to me now. What did she like, who did she like and how much?)) When she saw her friends, her “family” man she missed them, so she hugged both Sophie and Hardison and told them so. Maybe it was as simple as that, she missed her family, but there was one member of her family she felt like she missed more.
She looked over at Eliot and Nate having what appeared to be a serious conversation. When Nate left, Parker smiled at the happy expression on Eliot’s face. But a moment later he was frowning in thought. She caught his eyes and shot him a questioning look, the look she got in return was an “I’ll tell you later look,” to which she replied with a look that said “you better.”
NOW back in the PRESENT
“well, I’m waiting.”
“What?”
“for you to tell us how you dated a lot of cheerleaders, or stole one from some guy.” She said sarcastically. “or whatever that look was in the court room”
“look, I…” he glanced to see Hardison resuming his mobile activities, and Tabitha had gone in search of a restroom.
“I think Nate is planning something”
“He’s always planning something.”
“This was different, he was acting like he is preparing us for when he’s not around anymore.”
“Ha, Ha.” Parker burst out, but then she realized Nate was acting like that with her. “Do you think he’s dying?” She asked in a shocked whisper.
“No!” he returned, trying to reassure her and maybe himself. “But he is planning something.” Eliot said while taking a thoughtful bite of Parker’s left over taco.
Parker just smiled.
By this time Tabitha was back and Hardison was still engrossed in his mobile. They sat and chatted some more, with Hardison occasionally distractedly saying a yes or that’s great mama. Eliot had enough and insisted on having a word with Hardison.
Parker and Eliot 's date ended up alone together; and much to Parker's consternation she decided to make small talk.
"So how long have you been together?" Asked Tabitha
(((Tabitha was surprised when she heard from Eliot again, after he and his team helped her out with her store they went out and had some fun, but she didn't think he was the type to want more than a night of fun. Eliot asked her to go to the food cart festival with him so she said yes since she had fun with him and it might be good for her grocery store business to check out the other local food vendors.
As the day went on it became clearer to her that he had only called her because she was convenient, he seemed to pay more attention to his little blond teammate and her to him than either did to their respective dates. Hardison the hacker date to the blond thief did not seem to notice, although he had an almost possessive arm slung over Parkers shoulders, when they were near each other.
The date seemed to turn into more of a job thanks to the very strange blond woman she only knew by the name of Parker.
Tabitha noticed that Eliot’s smile reached his eyes whenever Parker was up to her antics, it was the first time she had seen this from Eliot since she met him a few weeks ago and she got the feeling it was only because of the little thief.
She wasn't mad that she was almost forgotten about, as she had said she hadn't expected another call anyway. Besides Eliot had paid for her ticket to the food cart festival and now they all sat at a picnic table at one of the most gorgeous spots in the Portland hills with way more food than if they had actually waited in any lines. Another bonus was that she got to see how they worked, how they had all helped her in their own way.
Parker stared for longer than most people would find comfortable and Tabitha was most people so she elaborated. "With Hardison?"
Parker stared some more. It was almost like she had been with him from the beginning, she had felt the most comfortable around him although she hadn't felt comfortable with the idea of dating, Hardison had been patient and worked with her on this and she now felt comfortable with dating. But had her feelings for Hardison changed in that time? The more she thought about it, the more she realized her feelings for Hardison hadn't changed from the day they met, and she thought about how her feelings for Eliot had changed. although she wasn't sure what way they had changed. That wasn't what Tabitha was asking so she stopped her racing thoughts and answered.
"Almost 6 years." |
d90e78b90dcf427180319d2ff7d848bc | ['d0b21604f26044fcb0fd177523aeb118'] | _ “Thank you.” _ He whispered to the falling form, before a scream of his scavenger and a roar of a Wookiee broke that of his thoughts. A bolt from the Wookiee’s crossbow struck him hard in the side making him take a knee and clench his fists as they escaped. His pain skyrocketing from the emptiness that now resides where Ben Solo had rested in his heart whilst his blood poured out of the wound, he stood up. Lightsaber in hand he rushed after them. His pupil dilated from the adrenaline that has begun to coursing through his veins as he raced after them, cutting them off further in the forest. “Traitor!” He howled as he flung the scavenger against a tree to render her unconscious. Pounding his side as the blood fell to contrast the white of snow. The former trooper raised up something familiar to his surprise and ignited it’s blue blade. “That belongs to me!” He barked, charging FN-2187 slashing at his form. The trooper handled the blade poorly, angered with himself as he is as well due to the wound that is severely crippling his movements and thoughts. Pinning him to a tree as the blades were locked against each other, using the advantage of the exhaust ports, he burned the trooper in the shoulder. A blackened hole forming through the coat as they recoil from their spot. With the trooper’s back towards him as he tried to regain his strength, he took that advantage. Twirling the crackling saber in a downwards arc, tearing through the man in a swift motion. Destroying the spine and altogether killing the traitor out of pure hatred.
Focusing in on the saber that now laid in the snow having left the grasp of the dead man when was he cleaved through. Extending his outward, he called for it. Nothing until suddenly it whipped past him and into the scavenger’s hand as she ignited it herself this time. Taking a moment in awe before he stalked towards her. She was running again and only swinging his lightsaber to deflect her’s. He walked towards her with no true purpose, but to corner her. Their blades clashed and held this time as the ground started to break, he balanced her so she wouldn’t fall. “You need a teacher!” He spoke that even though he himself was still an apprentice to Snoke. When they recoiled she got him in the shoulder, then in the leg making him fall. She leveled her saber to his throat yet the ground broke before she could make a decision, all he could do was call out to her shrinking form.
_ “Please!” _
_ Stay with me. _
3. Could Have Been Me
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Part 3 of 3
>
> Based around Could Have Been Me by The Struts
**Never want to look back and say**
**Could have been me**
_ “Please” _
It echoed in her mind as she stilled at the edge of the drifting land mass. Without thought, she jumped the gap that had separated them from an endless war. As her foot barely sunk into the ground as she shifted further onto the ground, she moved closer to the man she has freshly marked for life. The desperate pleading eyes twisted into ones filled with unknown relief because of her actions. Slowly she managed to pick him up, shifting his weight ever so calming as she treaded through the snow and deteriorating planet to a ship that had done a lightspeed crash landing. Chewie had let out a roar as he saw her approach the ship with a body that has long gone unconscious minutes prior. She glowered at the Wookiee as she boarded the Millennium Falcon; setting the body down against the wall in one of the corridors. She hastily made a break for the controls and piloted them off the collapsing rubble just before that of a gigantic explosion of fierce red and piercing white over took the place that was once understood as the Starkiller base. A blacken X-Wing with orange highlights few up next to them as the rest joined in suit. No words were spoke, no deadly truths were leaked from the Falcon. The silent understanding blurred to an hellish lie as the person who was saved from the snow was not that of their, but that of torn man whose conflict is more inward than out. | 6cc723788ae041dea49cd514d1525854 | ['d0b21604f26044fcb0fd177523aeb118'] | She knew not for why she saved him instead of Finn. His voice seemed to have echoed in her mind whilst he spoke none of those words, her heart ached at his plead and something in the back of her head swore that Finn was not going to be recovering in any extent. She was broken at that, but at the same time she wasn't. The man called Finn lied to her and while she was taken on this adventure because of him and the BB-8 unit, they've only known each other for a day really. The man under the mask less than that, yet he compelled her, he wasn't alluring the scavenger in her. More or less she has memories of _ him _ for unknown reasons and the force be damned she needed to know. Throwing a saber through an attacker’s chest for her was not something someone has done for her everyday. What she saw, felt in that dream like state was real, it was all painful to her. Setting the controls to auto-pilot she got up from her seat and traveled to the back of the ship. A smile crept up on her face as tears started to slide down her face; Chewie, that lump of fur managed to somehow get Finn on board. He is heavily bandaged and possibly never going to wake up, but he is still here. Her eyes adjust to a lump still set against the wall, just with makeshift cuffs around his wrists. Shaking her head with a sigh she knelt down to the black mass to try and inspect the wounds. With much difficulty until deciding to strip him of his garments to get to his wounds, one on his side and should both absolutely caked in blood forcing Rey to go retrieve water to rinse them off.
He stirred at the cold feeling before feeling that of a warm hand pressed to his other shoulder steadying him. Growling softly he opened his eyes to meet that of not a medic droid or any of the First Order, but hazel eyes of Rey. She had watched his brows scrunch and relax as his lids fluttered open and confusion spread his face. Noticing how his lips were slightly parted as he just stared at her. Thinking back to that of Han Solo, Rey pressed the wettened cloth into his shoulder rather hard causing a groan to emit from his lips. His face is bloodied from the gash across it, but neither seem to mind as it goes back to a staring contest. She stares at his face rather than the wounds as his exposed torso just reminds her how human he is, a really well built human for someone so reliant on the force and explosive lightsaber. Quickly she drops the rag into his lap and stares at the ground, starting to stand only to be stopped by a leather padded hand. Looking back to his face only to see it far up too close as her sense of touch registers that of his lips against hers roughly. Her eyes are wide as she slowly and admittedly awkwardly sinks into it.
He pulls away from her, “Sorry.” It was softer than a whisper as he turns away. Leaving her confused as she now is the one to just be staring. What is going? What impelled him to do that? Not that she hated it, rather enjoyed it after the realization had set in her mind well enough to comprehend what he had done. “I-I, I have had this dream. A dream of a forest, the dark and light always mingling as the life died aro-around me. I was always alone, no one except me wondered this dying forest.” He stopped, his whispers were raspy and scared. Why he was speaking of his personal problem she knew not, but rather not disrupt him if there was a chance he had remorse. Anything that she could possibly used to keep him alive. “One evening during resting a peculiar event happened as I was within this forest. A girl, deep brown locks of hair and awfully tan skin flourished, everything grew and lit up the forest. Life literally just given to the dead plants, but I would still them as I followed her. I never saw her face nor any markers of who she was. The only thing I saw was the light that just radiated off her. It allured me, making crave this girl. One day she became tangible and my heart lit up. The darkness I had tried to smother this me, vanished almost instantly.” His eyes began to tear, as his head lowered downwards as to not look at her. She felt the presence of Chewie at a doorway, overseeing the events that are currently going on.
“I killed him, I held out the lightsaber and he took it. He angled it right to his gut and with a press of a button he tried to finish my final test. I-I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t end his life painlessly as he plummeted off the bridge. I just wanted him to go out that door and forget about my existence.” His tears cascaded down his pale skin and it was the first time Rey could truly feel his pain and to her horror she forgave him. “I didn’t want the light that made my heart start beating again to leave either. I, I am as selfish as they can get.” His words were bitter as his hands rested in the cuffs keeping them still except for the movements of when it’s done in unison. |
6905d466ffa54b8a8c89a0e936e85f1e | ['d0bbdd9755dd4b838668c5855673516d'] |
i'll find you another time
**Author's Note:**
> so i wanted to write a steve centric coda to the end of ca:tws. this ended up being team fic focusing on the events after the film with a layer of stucky and oops i regret nothing? i can't write angst properly. angst how does it work.
Steve’s ears begin to hurt.
There’s a sharp pressure pressing itself against his temple. His lungs heave, straining for breath and his mouth fills with the salt water. Below him the light dances with the currents and darkness. It’s beautiful in the way familiar things are. He can’t tell the bottom of the Potomac from the Arctic at this distance.
He’s always believed in doing the right thing. To always stand by what you believe in and sacrifice yourself for a cause. No one tells Steve that sacrifice tastes like saltwater.
He closes his eyes wondering if he’ll open them in another time.
(He is too far gone before he feels the metal hand grip his uniform by the back of his collar and drag him up to shore.)
\---
It’s the first time Steve has been in a hospital since the serum.
The rush of footsteps moving back and forth; the way things just seem sterile and cleaner and the way the lights are always too bright. It reminds Steve of his mom. He’d drop by and check on her on late nights. Sometimes, when his lungs or his heart would act up, he’d spend a night or two on a bed like this.
He’s aching everywhere. His knee feels stiff. He wonders slightly if he’s back in his old body. Like, the serum’s just gonna run out one day. He snaps back to reality when he notices there’s music. A couple songs he doesn’t recognize to his right and Sam reading a book on his left.
The impact between Bucky’s metal fist and his jaw is enough to bruise him, so grinning at Sam hurts.
“On your left.”
\---
S.H.I.E.L.D is gone.
Nick Fury is in the wind, and as far as the public is concerned is six feet under. He drops by New York because Tony Stark sent his hospital room flowers and Steve’s got manners. Best to thank people in person. It also helps that if anyone knows how to find a guy this century, it’s Tony.
(Steve takes his bike. He asked Sam if he wanted a ride in the back-seat, the look of utter disbelief was worth the punch to his bruised shoulder. Sam will fly there, thank you very much. Steve thinks he means that he’s going to take a plane until, a shadow looms above him on the free way and yells: on your left.)
He waits at the lobby of Stark Tower.
He should have called ahead really. As he’s learning, you can’t exactly just walk into the New York Office and demand to see their CEO. Even if you’re Captain Rogers and you’ve just saved the world. Guy, at the door, Happy - he damn well tells Steve that security around here is tighter than ever.
He’s playing this game called ‘Cut the Rope’ on his mobile phone, before someone clears their throat.
“Captain Rogers,” the voice says. “Mr. Stark would like to see you now.”
Steve stops in his place to see a familiar man in a suit.
“Coulson -, you’re not dead,” Steve says a little dumbly because people-being-brought-back-to-life seems to the theme of his life for the week.
“Yes, I gathered that,” is the dry reply. Steve shakes his hand, a little star struck as he gets ushered into a private elevator.
“Hill has a bigger office than I do. Which is hilarious considering I applied two hours before her,” Coulson pauses. “Oh, and I’m sorry about Jasper. I never knew.”
Coulson presses his thumb on a keypad and enters a passcode. Jarvis’ voice fills the elevator and tells them that Mr. Stark is expecting them upstairs.
“Two years, and you couldn’t manage a postcard?” Steve asks.
“I don’t think this is in Hallmark’s scope, Captain.”
\---
“And this,” Tony gestures to a room with a mural of an eagle and a holographic American flag fluttering in the centre of it all, “is where you’ll be staying.”
Steve is torn between punching Tony in the jaw or bursting into laughter. He settles for the second, cracking up until his ribs hurt and he has to hold the door to hold him still. With everything that’s been going on, it’s a nice change from the sympathy and the rush of things.
“Stark, I got a few objections to the decor,” he says sternly as he places his bag on George Bush bedsheets. “But, thank you for the invitation.”
“Mi casa es su casa, el Capitan,” Tony finishes with a salute. “Seriously, though. Su casa. You might wanna look in moving in permanently. It’ll centralize security. With AIM, Aliens in London and Hydra out; I really think the world could use it if we could mobilize quicker. Besides Banner and Barton have already said yes. So, really, we’re just waiting on you, thunder thighs and killer thighs.”
“Hawkeye’s moved in already?” Steve asks. Clint’s taken time off. A year in SHIELD probation for attacking the helicarrier and a few more months in LA - so Steve’s gathered from his Vines. It’s a healing process and Norse Gods pack a doozy when they mess with your subconscious. With SHIELD being in pieces, he’s glad to know that Clint’s found himself with people he can trust.
“Oh yeah, him and his new coat are really rocking the Panem look,” Tony grins.
“Considering, Nick Fury kinda died in my last apartment - yeah, the idea of moving in sounds great, Tony. I’ve got a couple of things to do first. I need help finding a friend.” | 043f60b39f8042b98d04953642cd1f77 | ['d0bbdd9755dd4b838668c5855673516d'] | “The Winter Soldier,” Tony says easily. He taps his temple once. “I did a little precursory hacking during the livestream of what was going down in DC. Is he going to be something to worry about?”
“I dunno yet. The guy I know wouldn't cause us trouble, but I'm not sure how much of him left is the guy, I know,” Steve answers. There’s distress marked clear on his face. Concern marring his features.
“His name was Bucky. I want to help him in anyway I can,” Steve pauses, “Now, I know Bucky and If there’s anywhere he’s gonna be, it’s here in New York. Workin’ on a hunch but hopefully, that’ll get us somewhere.”
“I’ll go tell Jarvis to print flyers with your number at the bottom. Wanted Assassin Who’s Secretly A War Hero from the 40s. 200 dollar cash reward.”
Steve makes a face until he hears Tony tell Jarvis something about ‘Dad’s old films’ and ‘facial recognition’.
\---
Since the ice, he’s avoided coming here. Brooklyn just harbors too much memories of a life he’s lost. 70 years shapes even the roads differently, and while there are some structures that are the same - its people, noise and shops are different. It even smells cleaner.
He moved all the way to DC to forget, and somehow - he’s here again. Where it all started. There’s a corner down on this avenue where he got beat up and now it’s just an empty alleyway.
“This was our building,” he tells Sam.
“Third floor,” he points upward. Takes a few paces to the left of the building. “That, over there used to be Bucky’s room. When his sister left for boarding school, he was really upset. We were about eight, I think. His dad was on tour. The Barnes’ were always in the military, it’s something that got passed down - you know. Buck didn’t even think twice about enlisting. Turns out, Buck doesn't like staying home alone. He made me stay and sleep on couch cushions. Mom used to work nights but really, it was better for both of us.”
\---
“Aww, Triskelion,” Clint says as he’s watching the news footage in the Avengers common.
They’re still replaying and theorizing about what exactly happened in DC. Natasha’s press conference didn’t make things any smoother.
(And I thought I gave bad press conferences, Tony says in the background as they watch Nat storm off.)
Sam, somehow manages to get along really well with everyone. Like, he’s been an Avenger from the very start. It takes about twenty minutes before he calls Tony out and manages to hold his place with Clint’s banter. He also helps Bruce do the dishes after they get Thai food so Steve can cross it off his list.
They’re all kind of mellowed out, drinking beers by Tony’s TV while Sam and Steve give their play-by-play on what really happened in DC.
“You know, if you moved upward about twenty degrees that could have been avoided,” Cap motions at the screen. Tactics has always been his forte, not the fight.
“He always does this,” Bruce says dryly. The look Sam gives him is one of understanding. Sam gets it more than anyone. He reviews what happened in Afghanistan in his head more than he should. He thinks things like, if I had gone another way - would Riley have walked outta there alive? So, he can tell that Steve’s doing the same as he watches Steve analyze the battle.
“Course he does, he’s the Captain.” Sam grins. “First time saving the world. Think I got them pretty good.”
“There’s always next time,” Clint replies. “We should set you up with an intensive workout routine. I’ll ask Natasha for hers.”
“That is, if you want there to be a next time.” Tony pipes up. “Superheroics tends to be a full time responsibility.”
“Am I being asked to be an Avenger?” Sam asks incredulously. “This really happening?”
“Yeah, I need Tony to run out of bird jokes. We can split them 50/50,” Clint retorts grimly.
Steve laughs, “That’s just going to encourage him to double the efforts.”
\---
Bruce is showing him some research on the serum that Hydra could have tried on Bucky. He’s explaining the intricacies of Zola’s process and where he could have gone wrong. No one knows how far you can go with the serum better than Bruce, after all.
(Bucky, Bruce muses, seems to have gotten a better deal.)
They’re talking shop. Bruce is explaining the science behind Erskine’s formula. Dissecting Steve down to every atom, when Jarvis informs them that they’ve found a match.
Security feed from the Smithsonian places a figure with Bucky’s face staring at his own display for an hour and a half. Unmoving. Steve wonders what he’s thinking.
Jarvis is tracking his movements then and Steve, hangs on to every electronic word until they pinpoint his current location, and there’s something that tastes like bile that rises up his throat when he sees the coordinate. He tries to bolt out the door, but then Bruce hulks out and sets off at least six alarms in the tower.
“SPANGLES STAYS UNTIL METAL MAN COME.”
\---
Steve hates it.
This is protocol they follow with Doctor Doom, with terrorists and robbers. Sam Wilson hangs back ready to strike from above. Tony is suited up, repulsors aiming at Buck and muttering a signal into the communication unit. He can’t even see Clint, but he can just assume that he’s got a finger on the arrow, ready to pull.
This is protocol they follow when they deal with villains.
His shield is tucked away and forgotten for now, but Steve’s not the only one still in civvies. Bucky’s hair is in a ponytail. A cap on his head and a coat that’s two sizes too big. He looks almost inconspicuous.
Steve’s the one who raises his hands up, “I’m a friendly.” |
6ec05d4bc02e42ca988f8dec36d9af4c | ['d0dc4f8acada45b3b09ed048af726a87'] | “Sorry, Fury,” he says with a smirk. His hand slides down the length of his body before he reaches the quiver strapped against his thigh. He gently unclips the cap, and peers over his shoulder as best he can. He quickly spots the red tipped arrow, it’s a fairly new addition to his quiver, a grappling arrow, one that Tony Stark made. Clint’s not usually one to accept prototypes designed by anyone other than himself, but Coulson had given him that one pointed glare that the archer swears he reserves for Clint.
He brings the arrow back up his body and drops it at his side. He hooks his fingers under the grate and carefully removes it, gently putting it down on the other side of the shaft. He inhales and closes his eyes, readying himself. He grasps at the arrow and rams it into the ceiling of the vent with as much force as he can muster, he grimaces at the loud _clang_ that reverberates through the room. But thankfully for Clint, the screaming cuts out the reverberations, although it doesn’t bring the archer any comfort; the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with the agonising screeches.
He uses this cover to work quickly. He pulls out around 30 meters of cord from the arrow and clips it onto the carabiner at waist. He then crouches above the entrance rubbing his hands together with the adrenaline of what he’s about to do. Luckily, Clint brought his thickest pair of gloves with rubber grips, these will help him get a better grasp on the cord as he descends.
He braces himself before looping some of the cord through his legs, and beginning with his descent. It’s not that far, twenty meters, maybe less. Clint smirks slightly at the all too familiar feeling, he used to do this every night when he was with the circus. Part of his act was climbing to the highest part of the tent, firing arrows through trapeze artists, and hoops and shit, and then he would have to get back down. The first time that he did it, he got the most insane rope burns ever and had to be benched for three weeks.
But the cheers and whoops of the circus, are a distant memory against the screaming echoing through the room. Clint’s eyes are set on the two men that he can see, they certainly haven’t noticed his appearance, they’re actually busy smiling sadistically at whatever is happening behind Clint’s cover.
His feet hit the ground with a low thud, it’s not enough to draw any attention. In one swift movement he untangles his feet and checks the room again. The walls are grimy yellows and greys, the room is heavy with the smell of burning flesh and chemicals, and it seems that the only entrance is a huge set of mechanical steel doors.
Clint makes a mental note to make sure he uses the rope to get out again, he doesn’t want to go beyond those doors.
The archer moves quickly to press his back to the concrete pillar, he reaches up and pulls off his bow that had been sat over his chest and across his back.
The screaming has stopped, and is replaced by those low and intimidating murmurs. So Clint carefully creeps around to the other side of the pillar, but he halts abruptly, his blood running cold and his thought process stopping.
On the previously unseen side of the room, there’s a group of hydra agents, all pretty heavily guarded and weaponised up to their ears. There’s a General stood at the front, a red book donned with a black star sat in one of his hands. And in front of them, strapped to a chair with heavy metal binding, is none other than The Winter Soldier.
Clint knows of him, in the world of assassins, you’re forever in competition with others. And Clint can remember an incident about four years ago, a few months before he brought in Natasha. He had been on a mission in Prague, and the target was in his sights, and Clint was ready to claim his kill. But then someone shot straight through him, a bullet ripping through his bicep and hitting the target directly in the centre of his forehead. Clint had hissed in pain before looking over his shoulder, and stood only a few feet away, was The Winter Soldier. He had been wearing his entire get up, goggles and all.
“You fucking shot me, are you fucking crazy?” Clint had hissed whilst binding his wound and giving the other man a very sharp and pointed glare.
“Насколько я genuinley наслаждался видом со спины здесь. Ты слишком долго . Не хотел тебя обидеть , хотя, у вас есть красивое лицо .” The other man had said lowly, and from the way that his eyebrows had arched, Clint swore that he was smiling.
Only months later, when Clint struggled to repeat the verse back to Natasha, did he learn what had been said.
And it amused Tasha endlessly.
**_As much as I genuinely enjoyed the view from back here. You were taking too long. Didn’t mean to hurt you though, you’ve got a pretty face._ **
But the man in front of him now, is a stark contrast to the one he encountered all those years ago. He’s only wearing some thin black boxer shorts, but they’re soaked and he’s shaking all over, his entire body jerking and tremoring. His long black hair is dripping wet, and a complete mess. Some strands are tucked behind his ears, and other bits are falling across his face, or interrupting his parting. His breathing is laboured and fast, his scarred chest falling rapidly.
The General says something, and The Winter Soldier’s eyes widen as he screams hoarsely. His entire body strains against the bindings, and he shakes his head violently, as if trying to empty his mind. | d9127fd0714143a882c5c5ece474dc0a | ['d0dc4f8acada45b3b09ed048af726a87'] | Clint nods and swallows thickly through the bitter taste the nightmare has left behind. It’s fairly warm already so the shivers running up and down his body dissipate quickly, he peers up at the sky and guesses from the golds and the yellows that it’s probably around 7am, unfortunately still too early to head back to the hospital.
He sighs and with shaky hands rummages through his bags, trying to find the apple that he knows is buried somewhere. Lucky starts to stir and grunts a little before cracking open his eye, giving Clint a rather pointed look.
“Not my fault, pal.” Clint whispers, smirking at the grumpy expression the dog is donning. He comes across a tin of pet food before he finds the apple, and takes a moment to crack it open and empty it onto the floor in front of Lucky, earning himself less of a glare from the dog. It’s only a few minutes later before he finds his apple, leaning back against the wall and taking a generous bite.
He sighs and closes his eyes in a bid to settle the anxious knot tightening in the very centre of his chest. The nightmare has left him feeling hollow and edgy. He has flashbacks and nightmares at least twice a week, but some are more vivid than others, working to throw Clint right back into the deep end.
He sighs again, shaky and uneven, opening his eyes to once again stare up at the sky, the slow movement of the clouds, and the beautiful assortment of colours sending a wave of reassurance washing over him. He’s in New York, he’s not in a hospital in Vienna, and he’s as safe as he can be.
He takes another bite of the apple, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of being watched, the guy from earlier sat across the way staring holes into his head.
“Rough time, pal?” The guy lights up a cigarette and takes a drag, watching Clint like a hawk, and this is really not what he needs right now. He just wants to be left alone.
“Guess you could say that,” the archer mumbles past his apple, dropping his eyes to give Lucky his full attention.
“I served,” here we go, Clint thinks, “six years. Came home and my wife had left me for some fucking dentist. Got myself drinking and eventually ended up losing the house.”
Clint swallows past the lump in his throat and forces himself to look at the other man.
“That sucks, bro.”
The man must sense Clint’s accidental hostility and sighs, sending the archer a frown before abruptly taking a swig of his cigarette and shutting up.
Lucky chooses this exact moment to stand up and stretch in an attempt to show Clint that he wants to walk, the mutt not enjoying staying in any one place for too long. The archer feels a great sense of relief at this gesture and quickly works to pack up all of his stuff, only glancing over at the other guy before getting out of there, the weight falling off his shoulders with each step.
God, anxiety has him fucked.
He chooses to walk to the hospital, arriving in good time, hazarding a guess that it probably only took him around forty five minutes which is great considering how it takes twenty minutes in a car. By the time he gets there the hospital is still dark and quiet, none of the staff on duty just yet.
But Clint doesn’t mind waiting. He takes a place on the floor besides the main doors that lead into reception. Lucky drops obediently at his side, the hot morning sun causing the poor dog to have quite the pant.
Clint reaches back into his bag and pulls out Lucky’s old food bowl again, though this time he half empties a bottle of water into it and watches as Lucky takes appreciative gulps, sparing Clint a grateful look between each lick.
“You’re here early.” Clint nearly jumps a mile at the gruff voice, instinctively reaching back to retrieve his bow. But after the initial panic his mind eases, realising that the voice is familiar, and when he turns to his right he sees Bucky, looking somewhat amused but also kind of concerned.
He looks messy and unkempt, but in a purposeful way. He has a leather jacket pulled over his uniform, and his unruly hair is once again pulled back into a messy bun, strands of hair falling out all over the place.
“Well, it’s not like I’ve got anywhere to be.” Clint gives Bucky a shaky but relieved smile, and from the look on his face, he’s feeling pity on behalf of the archer.
“C’mon,” Bucky reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys before noticing Clint’s confused expression, “I’ll give you an early look over. I hate being inside on my own anyways, will be good to have some company.”
“You sure?” Clint ventures, as he tentatively starts to pack away his things again.
“Course’ I’m sure. Now c’mon.”
Bucky unlocks the doors and disables the alarms, before holding the door open at an arm’s length and gesturing for the pair to come inside. Clint swallows thickly and gives Lucky a somewhat apologetic look before draining the rest of the water away and hauling the mutt inside.
“There’s a fountain there.” Bucky nods in the direction of the reception desk whilst he proceeds to relock the door. “If you fill up his bowl and pop it down there, there’s pole round the side that you can leash him up to whilst I check on you.”
“Thanks.” Clint says timidly as he gently leads Lucky over to the desk, clipping his leash around the desk and working to refill his bowl. |
8ba8001f10694fda958099d1dd77feba | ['d0e80e075cc44d44a2734a770d8c5f05'] | Raven's eyes didn't leave her book as she turned the page and took another bite of her apple, "I have a car."
"You have a car!? But I always see you walking!" Garfield alleged while pointing an accusatory finger at her.
"Just because I walk everywhere doesn't mean I don't have a car," Raven regarded him like he was an idiot.
"Heh, that's true…" Garfield replied while scratching the back of his head.
"Alright, so we're all set. Tomorrow at five sound good to everyone?" Victor confirmed. Everyone agreed, and the conversation carried on with Kory talking about her experience in cheerleading while Raven continued to read. Though Garfield nodded intently as Kory spoke to act like he was paying attention, his mind was too focused on brainstorming a plan for tomorrow. He smiled to himself, a sensation of excitement pooling inside his stomach as his mind conjured all sorts of dreamy scenarios with Raven. Maybe he was getting too ahead of himself.
* * *
Garfield strolled out of the cafeteria with his hands in his pockets attempting to act smooth yet admittedly bursting with thrill from the inside. As he rounded the corner, he heard Kory's loud squeal before she jumped him from behind by putting her arms around him and practically swooping him off the floor.
"Kory- I can't breathe-" he choked out.
The girl bounced back while appearing embarrassed with herself. "I am sorry Gar! I am just so excited for tomorrow evening! I cannot believe Raven has agreed to go with us! We may finally spend time all together as friends! I am so happy that she has gotten more comfortable with us!" she vociferously confessed.
"That's great Kory, I'm excited too," Garfield managed a smile as he rubbed his aching ribs. He swore that girl had some kind of super-alien strength within her.
Kory continued blabbing about what they could do tomorrow as they walked to class alongside each other, though Garfield wasn't exactly listening to her. He felt like an inevitable twister was developing inside his stomach as he began to realize how anxious he really was. Sure, he considered himself to be pretty smooth with the ladies, but Raven was the kind he hadn't encountered—and it both thrilled and terrified him at the same time.
"... and perhaps you two could also ride the wheel of romance together!" _That_ caught his attention.
"Woah! Woah! What are you going on about?" Garfield came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway. Kory turned to him with a smile as wide as the Joker's, "You and Raven! I have noticed the liking you have taken to her, and I think it would be wonderful to-"
"Hold up! I don't like Raven!" Garfield refuted while shaking his head. Was he really that obvious about his little crush? "Where did you get that from!?"
"Well… The way you look at her and try to include her in activities and you constantly annoy her to gain her attention... I believed it was easy to figure out," she innocently pointed out.
"But… Ugh! Fine!" Garfield crossed his arms while letting out an irritated huff. He was tired of continuously having to deny the accusations about his crush on Raven. He might as well just give in to the truth.
"So you do like her!?" Kory squealed as she jumped around in her spot and applauded.
Garfield quickly covered her mouth with his hand and looked around to make sure the hallway was empty. He sighed and released his hand, "Kory, please don't declare it out loud to the whole world," he spoke in a hushed whisper. "And I thought you already knew?"
Kory lowered her voice, "I hadn't confirmed it until you did." She smiled mischievously.
_That sneaky little-_ "Well, I guess you know now," he breathed. "No use in denying it."
"I believe I could be of most assistance!" Kory perked up.
Garfield raised an intrigued eyebrow, "I'm listening."
"I could act as the 'wingman' you guys often speak about," she clapped her hands cheerfully. "Perhaps by getting you two alone together or talking positively about you or telling you valuable information you could use to impress her!"
Garfield scanned her carefully before he asked, "You'd really do that for me?"
Kory nodded her head like an excited little kid. Garfield suddenly beamed and tackled her with a hug, "Thanks, Kory! You're the best!"
From the corner, a devilish redhead was watching the exchange go down. He grinned slyly as he covertly ambled to his homeroom class and approached the jet black-haired individual he was searching for. He leaned casually on his desk and grinned when the individual looked up, "Hey Dick, perhaps you should make a move on your lady already. It seems like Gar and her are getting more _cozy_ with each other."
Dick narrowed his eyes, "What are you going on about this time, Wally?"
"Gar and Kory," he pointed his thumb back at the door. "They seem to be getting _really_ comfortable with each other. You know, being physically affectionate and all. Just saying, if you want Kory for yourself, you best make a move before he does," he smirked.
"Gar and Kory?" Dick huffed and waved his hand, dismissing his allegation like it was totally implausible. "Yeah right, like that'll ever happen."
Wally shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever you want to believe, dude. But don't deny that you're not even a little curious about what I mean," he winked before heading to his seat in the back next to Jinx.
"What was that about?" Jinx questioned as she regarded Wally with a curious glance. "You're starting your little childish games again? What is it now?" she spoke with interest.
Wally snickered before plopping down next to her, "You'll see soon, Jinxy-poo."
"Stop calling me that!" she slapped his shoulder. | 2c7ccd195dfe4c3d8bc5d2d38feaa713 | ['d0e80e075cc44d44a2734a770d8c5f05'] | Her silence spoke for itself, and she dismissed herself to her bedroom—her mind devoid of any sentiment or thought. And for once, she longed to be the robot Garfield had thought her for.
* * *
“Hey, Rae! How are you today?” Garfield plopped down in the seat next to her in the cafeteria table. As usual, Raven’s eyes were intently fixed on the novel in front of her; this time, the lucky winner was titled _Macbeth_.
“Fine,” she muttered as she took a bite of her apple, the rest of her food sitting in the tray in front of her untouched. He wondered to himself why she didn’t eat, but he didn’t voice his inquiry. They weren’t that close just yet.
“What’cha reading?” he asked in his usual irritating voice.
“A work by Shakespeare,” she replied, and Garfield was honestly caught off-guard by how easy it was to get her to answer _something_ (even as simple as a question about her book). She usually ignored all of his questions or his talking in general.
“What’s it about?” he pressed, hoping she’d continue to share if anything to hear her voice.
“The deep-rooted nature of greed within humans specifically triggered by a place of power and how it affects our judgment and morality,” she told him, her words coherent and not missing a beat.
If he were to be honest, the words traveled through one ear and exited through the other without a single ounce of comprehension. He didn’t mind, however. He just liked hearing her talk in her typical intelligent way.
“Interesting,” he replied, his eyes attentively tracing her features.
“Is there something interesting about my face?” she questioned in a deadpan tone as she turned the page.
“It’s certainly more beautiful than the Mona Lisa,” he blurted out, though he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized what he’d said, and he could only hope she wouldn’t murder him on the spot for hitting on her (once again).
Raven’s eyes turned away from her book, and she arched an eyebrow at him, “You realize that won’t have any effect on me?”
“Phew,” he chuckled nervously. “For a second there, I thought you were about to murder me.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to her book. A few minutes later (of which Garfield spent his time awkwardly trying to look at anything but Raven), Kory and Dick arrived.
“Hello, friends! How are you on this most beautiful day?” Kory asked with a wide smile adorning her expression.
“I’m doing great, Kory. How about you?” Garfield smiled back.
Kory cheerfully clapped her hands together, “Oh, I have been doing wonderful today! What about you Raven?”
“Fine,” she replied as she had to Garfield, her eyes focused on the novel in front of her.
It appeared that Kory felt sufficed with her answer, as she turned back to Garfield and Dick and started rambling about cheerleading practice. They went on through their usual lunch routine (minus Victor who was sitting with Karen and the others today)—with Kory blithely chatting and leading the conversation alongside Garfield, Dick commenting when he felt it was necessary, and Raven simply ignoring them (though Garfield had noticed she seemed more comfortable with them in comparison to the previous week).
After lunchtime was over, Garfield followed after Raven like a love-struck puppy as they walked to their physical education class. He, of course, had to leave her when she entered the girl’s changing room, and he made his way to his own. Dick and Wally strolled in right after him and headed to their lockers while Garfield started to change.
Just as he was tying his shoelaces, a resounding gasp echoed across the room (that made him wonder if a girl had snuck into the boy’s changing room considering its high pitch) followed by uncontrollable laughter from the guys next to him. He turned to see Wally handling some _very_ small and bright pink shorts along with an equally small purple tank top.
“What the hell!?”
“Nice outfit, Wally! Where you headed to? Dance rehearsal?” one of the guy’s exclaimed with a snort.
Wally didn’t answer considering he was too busy gaping at the garments in front of him. Dick was trying to contain his laughter next to him, though it was painfully obvious that it wasn’t working.
Wally seemed to snap out of it as he started frantically searching through his stuff for his actual gym uniform but to no avail.
Garfield bit down on his lip to prevent himself from snickering, “Welp, you’ve got less than three minutes to decide whether you’ll wear that thing or skip gym class.”
“Are you kidding me!? I’ve already skipped three times in the past two weeks! Coach Z is going to kill me!” Wally exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at both of them. Dick seemingly shrugged, his shades obscuring his expression, though Garfield could tell he was amused (which made him wonder if he had anything to do with the mysterious disappearance of Wally’s gym clothes).
“Well then,” Garfield gave Wally a pat in the back. “I guess you’ll be hanging out with the girls today,” he snorted before heading out of the changing room.
“Logan!” Coach Z exclaimed as he entered the gym. “Where are Grayson and West?”
Garfield shrugged his shoulders as he strolled towards the boy's section. Shortly after, Dick walked in followed behind by Wally who was dressed in the tiny pink shorts and the tight purple tank top with his face resembling a volcano on the brim of exploding.
“Look at Wally over here cosplaying as a girl!” one of the guys yelled before they all burst out laughing. Wally’s mouth opened and shut as if he were trying to think of a comeback, but it seemed like nothing came to mind.
“Alright everyone, settle down. Today we’re doing a group activity, so get into groups of five,” Coach Z announced. |
d0251631e53a450c94b66aaa758927a1 | ['d118b070a146427c92b7ca1e35cfbab8'] | 1. Before
"Justin you're freezing, please take my jacket." The brunette sighed at his stubbornness.
"No Kyle, I'm fine." The blonde insisted, Goosebumps covering his tanned flesh.
"No you're not." Kyle covered his quivering shoulder with his already warm jacket and Justin's relief was palpable. "HA! I knew it!" A smirk covered Kyle's face.
“I love you sometimes,” the blonde admitted, making Kyle’s heart skips a beat but then he adds, “other time I hate you, and other times I want to kill you.” The cold autumn wind blew around them as Anna and Bailey witnessed the scene.
“I ship it so much.” Anna remarked for the umpteenth time.
“They’re just so cute!” Sighed Bailey, “It’s a shame they’re straight.”
The whistle signaling to get into block pierced the air and the band began moving to their spots. From where he was Kyle had a wonderful view of Justin, but no matter where you where in the band you could hear his voice piercing the air on ever the coldest of mornings.
Kyle tried to focus on marching, he really did. He knew they had competitions coming up, but Justin was much higher on the priority list, behind only food. He couldn't stop thinking about how cute Justin looked wrapped up in Kyle’s gray jacket. No Kyle. He thought to himself. You can’t think about him like that.
Justin would never get why everyone thought he and Kyle were so cute together. Kyle had a girlfriend, and besides, he was straight. Sure he was pretty cute, but even if he wanted it to happen, which he didn't, it never would.
Later that day in (insert class Justin has) Justin’s thoughts wandered to Kyle, as they always did. There was nothing wrong with thinking about your best friend all the time, was there? I mean it’s not like he had a crush on him or anything.
***
“Where’s Kyle?” Erin asks the next morning
“I don’t know,” Justin admits, “Should I text him?”
“Nah, it’s okay. I bet he’s just sick or something.”
“HEY BAND!” Yells Mr. Thorpe
“HEY WHAT?” The band echoes back.
“We have an assembly today, head to the auditorium.” I wonder what that’s about. The blonde thinks to himself.
Once seated in the too small auditorium, students and teachers alike crowd the sides, he notices teachers crying. “That’s odd.” He remarks to Ben sitting next to him. “I wonder what’s happened.”
Ms. Cassata walks onto the stage and everyone grows quiet, curious to know what the news is. “Students, I am here today with a heavy heart to announce this tragedy. Last night one of our very own was hit and killed by a drunk driver. The driver is now in custody after receiving minor injuries. The student affected, was Kyle Bavitz.
“No…” Justin whispers softly, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
2. After
Justin had never felt like this before. It wasn't just sad, it was empty. It was as if his insides had been ripped out and nothing remained. He didn't cry, he hadn't cried since he heard the news. He hadn't done a lot of anything really. School had been cancelled allowing him to lay in bed all day, but not today. Today was the funeral
He put on his black suit in a daze, almost as if he was watching a stranger do it. In this same daze he walked out of his house, got into his car, and pulled out of his driveway onto the street.
At the funeral home he quickly sat down away from anyone he might know. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, and certainly didn't feel like being talked to.
The room filled very quickly. Many people could not find a place to sit in the small establishment and stood towards the sides. The service was over quickly and everyone got in their cars to go to the grave. After the graveside sermon everybody left, everybody but Justin. He sat down next to the freshly dug grave and began to speak.
"Nothing will ever be the same without you Kyle. I miss you so much, please come back to me." He sat there for hours, drinking in the silence. Towards midnight his eyelids began to droop. He finally closed them, but when he opened them again he was in his bed on a Thursday morning to the sound of his alarm going off.
"It was a dream," He whispered. "Only a dream." He got ready for school in record time, jumped into his car and drove to school. He waited in the band room, and when Kyle walked through the door, he ran. He didn't care who saw. He ran to him and engulfed him in a hug.
"Hello to you too." A somewhat confused Kyle remarked.
"I had a dream that you were dead." Justin says, barely audible.
"Don't worry," Kyle reassures him. "I'm not going anywhere." | fba7f79c94f8486c83b3a747a433017a | ['d118b070a146427c92b7ca1e35cfbab8'] | See the stars with you
"This is so exciting Bailey, heading off to America. What do you suppose will happen once we get there?"
"I'm not sure, no more than I was when you asked me not five minutes ago." Bailey was beginning to get impatient. She knew Rose was nervous for their new life in America, but she couldn't bear answering the same questions over and over again.
"But no matter what happens, we'll stay best friends right?" Rose looked nervous now.
"Of course we will, don't be silly. Nothing shall ever come between us." She reassured her best friend. They had been inseparable ever since they met at age six. Their mothers had become very good friends, and Rose and Bailey had become more like sisters. They told each other everything, and kept no secrets.
"Look Bailey!" Rose screeched, yanking the shorter of the two to the window and pointing. "Look at all the stars Bailey." She sighed, "I wish I could go see them. I would take you with me of course. Would you go?"
"To see the stars with you would make the happiest girl on the earth." She replied, ever supportive of her friend, yet doubtful it would ever happen. Just then, there was an awful shuddering throughout the ship, almost as if it was vibrating. "What could that be?" She wondered aloud.
"I'm not sure, let's go see." Rose suggests, already up and halfway across the room leaving Bailey no choice but to follow. They exit their small third class cabin only to find a crowd of people shouting at a man through behind a closed gate, the gate out.
"What's going on?" One man screams angrily through the bars. Dozens of voices behind him shouting in approval.
"We can't get out this way." Bailey astutely notices.
"Let's go this way!" The taller starts running, but not before grabbing Bailey's hand to drag her along. After at least 30 minutes of searching, they manage to find an unattended maintenance room with a ladder leading up. They follow the ladder for what seems like forever until opening a hatch to yet another maintenance room, this time on the main deck. The pair exits the room after checking to make sure the coast is clear. They walk out onto the deck to see a mob of people crowding around a single lifeboat.
"The ship's sinking, isn't it." Bailey whispers, knowing it to be true. Rose stays silent. The last lifeboat is lowered.
*****
The ship slowly lifts out of the water over the hours. The remaining people have moved the the higher end.
"Look Bailey, I can almost reach them." Rose whispers, reaching to the stars.
"Let's go see them." Bailey replies. The ship snaps in half. "I love you Rose."
"I love you too Bailey." The stars that once seemed so close are now an eternity away. Rose and Bailey die in each other's arms and become two of the 1,500 that died that night. |
84ead15979264ffca20ff5268ed9df98 | ['d11cb346edec4f10a4ebffde852e8314'] | Why does he always have to get me in trouble and now he is going to kill me. Why am I like this, does God hate me or anything, why does he have to put me through all of this stuff. Maybe I was a mistake after all, no one would want me anyway "Aaron your up" I swallow my thick spit and slowly making my way out of the bus and into my lawn "thank you" I quietly said and walk to my house "this is going to be bad" I sigh and open the door just to see my uncle on the couch drinking a whole bottle of whiskey. I took a chance and sneak upstairs but he notice me and throw the bottle next to my face "Aaron, come down here" my whole body was shaking when I walk down, I stand next to him as he took a grip on my wrist "do you know what time it is" I nod slightly "why are home so late" my sweat falling down to my neck as I shake lightly "I-I got into t-trouble and I have d-detention for one week" he took a bottle and smash it on my eyes making me bleed "you little piece of shit" he kick me until I cough out blood and pull my hair "you were a mistake I was so wrong to even think you could be like your sister, now go to your room before I smack you again" I ran upstairs and lock the door sliding down "why does he have to be so mean" I sob quietly and take out my phone and start to dial my friend number "h-hey, y-you there, could you m-maybe come here p-please, I have a p-problem" I charge my phone and sit on my bed waiting for my friend to come.
About one hours or so my friend came climbing into my window looking furious "Aaron, oh my God, what happen" she grab my face and check my eyes "is nothing Peggy, my uncle just hit me, with a whiskey bottle, which made out of glass" she sit down and put my chin up "I can't protect you forever Aaron, soon enough I will go get as job and leave you, i'm a college student and you need to stand up and protect yourself or you will die and we both know Sally wouldn't want that now would she" I shake my head no "good, now sit still, I will clean your wound" she take out the first aid kid and started to bandage my eyes "hey Peggy" she hummed softly "have you ever want to disappear" she stop and look into my eyes "you've been cutting aren't you" I bite my lips and shake my head "let me see your arm" I hid my arm behind my back and shake my head "come on Aaron, let me see" I put my hand out and pull up the sleeves "is not a big deal, just scratch mark" she squeeze my wrist hard "does this hurt" I shake my head "how about now" she squeeze harder, I bite my mouth to prevent a scream and shake my head "what about this" he pull hardest squeeze on my wrist and I fall to the ground whimper slightly "stop, is hurt" she sit me up and wiped my tears away "come on, i'm gonna change your bandage" she took out her bandage and wrap it around both my wrist "okay it should stop the blood for now" I rolled down the sleeves "why did you beat yourself up like this" she sit next to me "I don't feel like living anymore, anything I do will only turn into a disaster like me" I crossed my arm and look down "why are you like this" she put her hand on my cheek "because i'm useless and weak" she sigh and pat my head "I know this isn't you, you are strong and more than that you are loved, your parents and sister loved you, my sister love you, Tommy, Jemmy, Maria, Charles hell even Samuel and King love you. I need you to remember this, whenever your in trouble you should know there will always be someone who's there to protect you and I want you to stay strong for me okay" I nod my head "well is great to talk to you but I gotta get moving, college aren't going to wait for anyone, cya" she climb out of the window and I waved at her "maybe I should cover this up" I walk over to the mirror and take out my hairbrush and begin to brush some of my hair in order to cover my left eyes "perfect" I change into my pj and got in bed to get some sleep before sunrise.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Second chapter how it is
3. Why do you care
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hamilton finally understand why Aaron life is hell and he wanted to protect him from the chaos the world cause upon him
Aaron pov
I don't like this at all, living with my uncle suck I wish he never adopted me "HEY AARON, COME DOWN HERE, YOUR LATE FOR SCHOOL, FAGGOT" I sigh and slung my backpack on my shoulder "DON'T CALL ME FAGGOT, YOUR NOT MUCH BETTER" I yell back snd slide downstairs taking the lunch I made with me "is that a tone I hear-" before he could yell at me I exit out the door in my skateboard and rolled down the street.
On my way to school I bump into someone "oh sorry I-, oh, you again" I glare dagger at the man "oh well if it isn't Aaron Burr" he put an arm around my shoulder and rest his other hand on my chest "I am aware that you're this free, **Lee** " I put his hand away and got out of his grasp "well it is the weekend after all" he crossed his arm "what a pretty girl like you doing here" I growl at him "for the last time. I. Am. Not. A. Girl" I gritted his teeth at every word and slap Lee across the face but he caught my hand "festive aren't we now" Lee backed me up against the tree and put his head on my neck "what are you doing" I ask "I got to make sure people know that your mine, aren't I" he bite down at my neck as I moan out loud. I used all my force to push him and ran to the school. I sigh in relief that he didn't follow me. I walk around to find the detention room and when I see it I walk inside only to see Mr. Washington and Hamilton talking "you guys can stop with the fatherly bonding now" I sit down and put my backpack on the table "so you decided to come huh" I just rolled my eyes and take out my book "for your detention you have to talk with each other, by the time I get back you two better talk and not curse at each other. Understood" I just nod "good, I have stuff to do so you better not fight while i'm gone" he slammed the door shut and I was left alone with him.
What seem like hours bedore he decided to speak "is that a hickey on your neck" I quickly cover my neck "no you must have see thing "no way, that's a hickey, I saw that on my friends neck all the time" he pull my jumpsuit down to my elbow "IT IS A HICKEY" I pull the jumpsuit back up "is not" he sigh and sit next to me "you can't denied that someone mark you, so who was it" he ask serious "no one" I look away embarrassed "Burr, who was it, tell me, I promise I won't tell" I look down "Charles Lee" he jump out of his seat " **him** , seriously that jerk, no one want him-" "I don't want **him** , he just come up to me and then marked me as his own" after that I cry out, I don't care if he's looking or not is doesn't even matter "I don't normally do this but..." before I could react I felt a big strong arm wrap around me "is all gonna be okay" I sob into his shirt "better now" I nod and he let go of me "now, why don't you tell me exactly what happened in your life" I wiped my face "why do you care" I ask "because I can't bear looking at people getting hurt" I stop sniffing and tell him the whole story about my life. After i'm done with the story his jaw dropped "i'm very sorry to hear about that, I never knew" I chuckle "no one does" I pull my knees to my chest "what about you" I smile. I listen to his story and I got to say he's luckier than me he have friends, a happy family and everything he could ask for "sounds awesome, I wish I have a life like yours" I sigh but he pat my head "hey maybe life isn't too bad there's still plenty of thing to do" I smile at him "yeah maybe your right" I let his hand go and sit on the table to stress "y'know, this was fun, talking to you was fun, I think we could I don't know, maybe hangout sometime" he ask I nod and write my number on a piece of paper "here's my number we can talk whenever you want to" he smile and write his number on a piece of paper and we exchange it "it was fun, maybe I shouldn't judge you after all" I laugh at this "is alright, people make mistakes, I don't blame you" we talk for a few more minutes until Mr. Washington came "so boys, have you figure things out" we nod "good is time for you two to go home anyway" Hamilton help me down and I thank him "let's go Alexander, your mother is waiting" we walk with each other out the building "well today was fun, I'll see you tomorrow" he nod and get in the car with his father, I take out my skateboard "bye, Xander, I'll see you tomorrow" I waved at him "bye, Ronnie" he waved back "kay, bye" I chuckle and made my way home.
When I arrived home, I quickly got upstairs and immediately text Xander until noon. I got to sleep and I have to say I sleep better than any day in my life.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Third chapter
**Author's Note:**
> How was the first chap | 9ad7ec65553346ddae2b973b6776ce3b | ['d11cb346edec4f10a4ebffde852e8314'] | _In my heart there is no room_
_But I still want him to be all mine"_
He laught maniacally when a maid enter the room to check on him he stop and give her a warm smile as he skip around the room to get ready for 'his' lucky day to happen.
_"We must escape before it's too late_
_Find a way to save the day_
_Hope, I'll be lying if I say"_
Aaron ran around as fast as he could and when he spot a cart cover in blood he ran to it and try to pust it but fail and he fall down to the ground helplessly, Litamarus followed behind him trying to help him up.
_"I don't fear that I may lose him_
_To one who wants to use him_
_Not care for, love, and cherish him each day_
_For I oh so love the groom_
_All my thoughts he does consume"_
He lift up his chin with tear already cover his red face as he smile with pride. Litamarus used their magic to help him in and used their elbow to hit the cart so it budge and they get in before it slide down.
_"Oh, Alexander, I'll be there very soon"_
When they hit the end, they were basically flying so Aaron use his magic to make them float in the sky. Litamarus hold onto Aaron, when they landed they are basically the one to catch Aaron in their arm.
_"Finally the moment has arrived_
_For me to be one lucky groom"_
Jefferson enter with a bouquet of white flower in his hand looking at a hypnotized Hamilton with a grin on his face as he step close to Hamilton and let the preacher start the wedding.
Aaron was happy they landed safely on the ground cried out when he see their way was blocked with rocks.
_" Oh, the wedding we won't make_
_He'll end up marrying a fake_
_Alexander will be..."_
Aaron collapse to the ground turning into a crying mess.
"Mine, all mine..."
Jefferson laugh inside looking at a hypnotized Hamilton with joy and let the preacher finish the wedding.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Should I or shouldn't I make a part 2 of this |
64820a09b9b9417fabf85d7be7d62a9e | ['d11fa68de27e4800b634fd497cf336c9'] |
Silk and Satin
**Author's Note:**
> I just wanted to write fling posse in lingerie and the rest just sorta happened. enjoy
A message went out to the infrequently-used Fling Posse group chat that read, _ “Hey, hey, I got you guys gifts! Come over to my place tonight, okay? ♡ ” _ with a sticker of a little pink bear making a kissy face.
So Gentaro and Dice knew they had to be there or face the consequences.
It was sure to be fun, at the very least.
Gentaro arrived in the early evening. Dice was already there, and complaining about not even getting a hint of what the gift might be. Apparently Ramuda had insisted he wait until Gentaro's arrival. Well, he was here now. Ramuda shoved a wrapped package at each of them and then (cutely, faux-politely) ordered them each to different rooms to change. Ah, so it was clothes. Most gifts from Ramuda were.
Sent into the bathroom, Gentaro opened the package. Well. This was interesting. He decided he liked this gift very much, if only for the novelty of it.
A set of lacy white lingerie was inside the box, neatly folded. No, not just white -- white and black and purple, the colors he usually wore. There was a flowing negligee that was clearly tailored to his frame, long enough to reach the floor, but no less revealing for it; the white fabric was sheer. For underneath that, there was a pair of black panties and knee-high stockings. They weren't as skimpy as they could've been, at least, but the black was sure to stand out against his pale skin and underneath the white negligee. All the pieces were adorned with purple lace in the same style, so they clearly went together.
It was probably as close to “his style” as lingerie would ever get. Looking in the mirror, the silhouette of it wasn't too far removed from his usual outfit, with long sleeves and a flowing skirt. It was just… sexier, really, with a low cut that revealed his shoulders, a loosely fastened front, and lace that would've emphasized his chest if there were anything there. The panties stood out as he'd thought they would, serving to draw the eye right to the area as much as they hid anything.
So this was what Ramuda liked, hm? Gentaro understood why. Despite how much it revealed, the outfit felt regal.
Done admiring himself, he stepped back out into the main room. Ramuda had changed into lingerie, too, though he was lounging on the couch with his phone like nothing was different. His outfit featured a bright teal bustier, laced up in the front with a pink ribbon. Matching striped thigh-high stockings with their own bows at the top adorned his slim legs. And, of course, the panties were in the same style, the bow sitting cutely at the back of the waistband. He noticed Gentaro and looked up from his phone.
“Oh! Gentaro, it looks great! How's the fit?” Phone forgotten, he bounced out of his seat to examine what was probably his own handiwork.
“I think you'll need to take it in here, here, maybe here…” Gentaro said, gesturing at random spots.
Ramuda giggled. “That's a lie, right?” He felt Gentaro up at the spots in question, making him shiver. “They feel fine!”
“Yes, yes. A lie. It's very comfortable.” He moved himself away from Ramuda's grasp only for him to follow. So it was to be that kind of evening, was it?
“I'm glad you like it.” His touches were lingering, feeling along the lines of purple lace. “I was sooo worried, you know. I wasn't sure you'd even put it on!”
He said it as if he'd ever given them a choice. Not that Gentaro minded this time, or ever. It was always amusing to see what his spontaneity brought them next. He trusted his leader to lead _ interestingly, _ if nothing else. Right now, Ramuda was leading him to the couch to sit.
Before they could do anything there, though, Dice was loudly exiting the bedroom he'd been sent into to change. “I need help putting this fuckin’ bra on,” he shouted. He came into the main room clutching said bra by the strap. It seemed to clasp in the back, so of course he'd need help if he'd never worn one before.
Ramuda was up and assisting him immediately, excited for all of them to be in their matching outfits. The rest of Dice's lingerie was already on. Unlike Gentaro's, it only partially matched his usual color scheme. Silky white panties that left little to the imagination were overlaid by a red fishnet-style garter belt that connected to matching stockings. So, he needed help with a bra, but he could put on garters himself?
The bra, which Ramuda had just finished fastening and was now adjusting, was black, and had a considerable amount of lift. Dice was bigger than either Gentaro or Ramuda, so he actually had something there _ to _ lift.
“Why'm I the only one in a push-up bra?” Dice complained.
“Because you have the best tits, Dice,” Ramuda stated matter-of-factly, groping them for good measure.
“Yes, they're much larger than either of ours,” Gentaro added.
Dice looked down at his chest, then at Gentaro's. He nodded and said, “That's true,” like he'd just been faced with infallible logic.
He was so cute.
Once Ramuda was done admiring Dice and feeling him up (they were the same thing, really. Ramuda was quite tactile, especially when it came to clothes), he pulled Gentaro off the couch (hadn't he just sat down?) and dragged them all over to his studio. There was a mirror there nearly the size of the wall it hung on, so he must've wanted them to all see themselves together. | 1e4e33b19ab944bf915638811f3a0531 | ['d11fa68de27e4800b634fd497cf336c9'] | 05.10.2019
Jyuto’s car needed repairs, and he hadn’t been able to requisition a replacement in time, so he and Samatoki were on the _ fucking subway. _ Was whatever they needed to see Rio about this important? Surely it could wait another day.
Samatoki insisted that it was fine, most people took the train daily. But it was _ not _ fine. The train car had only gotten more and more crowded, pushing him and Samatoki towards the wall and trapping them there, with Jyuto against the window and Samatoki behind him. Would they even be able to get out at their stop?
The only solace he had was that he was pushed up against Samatoki instead of a stranger. Not a great comfort.
Especially when Samatoki whispered into his ear, “Y’think anyone’s paying attention to us? Probably not. Let’s have some fun.”
Not a great _ comfort, _ but… It could be interesting. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Samatoki pushed himself closer, his crotch touching Jyuto’s ass. His voice even lower, he said, “Can you get me off before it’s our stop?”
“Only if you return the favor.”
Their stop was soon, now, so they wouldn’t be able to. But it might be fun to try.
Samatoki wrapped an arm around Jyuto’s front and palmed at his crotch. He started rubbing himself against Jyuto’s backside, and Jyuto could just barely feel that cock start to harden through the layers of clothes between them.
“I’m hardly doing anything,” Jyuto said.
“Then move your ass.”
Tempting, but Jyuto didn’t want to be too obvious. Samatoki was already barely subtle. In this position, though, there wasn’t much that Jyuto _ could _ do.
Samatoki pushed his fingers down into Jyuto’s waistband. Jyuto got the invitation, and loosened his belt. Dangerous, but… With Samatoki’s hand on him, and that growing hardness against his ass, and the knowledge that they were just barely hiding what they were doing… Jyuto felt himself heating up.
Anyone could glance over and understand what was happening if they looked for long enough. Were there people pushed up against Samatoki’s other side? Jyuto couldn’t tell from his position. Samatoki was gyrating against him, not anywhere close to a full thrust. If he moved any more, would they be found out?
Samatoki’s hand against his cock was quick and rough and barely there. It was nothing like when they were taking their time together. And against his backside was a phantom sensation, just a tease that made him want more, made him want Samatoki to rip his pants off and fuck him. As soon as they got off this damn train, Jyuto was going to _ beg _ Samatoki to do just that.
The chime rang for their stop.
Their detour to the station bathroom may have made them late to their meeting with Rio.
**Author's Note:**
> will I ever figure out how to write porn without an extensive scene-setting lead-up that's probably not necessary to have in its entirety? maybe, but not today |
f0726c9c7ade4c909207daacea0d38a2 | ['d12c2e2df4094be9ac186ea1d0269105'] | Woodchips
Derek looks at the boy peering through the railing to the lit-up streets below, his feet dangling and swinging like a child’s. They sit up on the roof of his loft often, in silence, since Scott died.
Derek catches a glimpse of the slight smile playing on the boy’s lips, illuminated by a streetlight below.
“Stiles, what are you smiling about?” Derek asks, surprised he is smiling at all after the torment he has been through.
Stiles’ voice sounds strange, distant. “Just imagining what it would be like to fall”, he replies.
“Wh... what?” Derek’s voice catches. The sentence didn’t make any sense.
Stiles sighs, as if it’s obvious. “You know, like if I just fell. Off this building, right this second. If I didn’t even think, and I hit the ground. Dead. Wouldn’t have to think anymore, huh.” He makes a sweeping motion with his sock-covered feet. _“Splat”._ He’s still smiling, and it puts Derek on edge.
“Stiles, what in the-“
“And blood would coat my lips, probably. You know, the whole dyin’ thing. But it wouldn’t matter. No one would care about the blood. They’d just say, ‘he’s dead’, you know? And it wouldn’t matter if it were blood, or sand, or even woodchips. They wouldn’t notice, probably. Just say, ‘he’s dead’.”
Derek is taken aback by how mad this all sounded. Where is all of this coming from? Is he going crazy from losing Scott? “Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?”
Stiles releases a breathy laugh, surprisingly calm and careless throughout his rambling of nonsense. “Funny you should mention hell. It’s hilarious, how, like, you can fall off a building, fall down. And then you get buried, so you’re deeper still, even further down. And then in hell, so you’re the deepest you can get. Once you jump, you never stop falling.” Stiles’ legs keep swinging.
Before Derek can say another word, Stiles goes on.
“Or if you go to heaven. Boy, is that ironic. You jump off the building, expecting to fall down. But you end up in the sky! Or, if there isn’t a heaven or hell. Then you’re bleeding woodchips on the pavement. He’s dead.” Stiles repeats those two words with gleaming eyes.
Derek can’t take it anymore. “Stiles, _stop_ ”, he says, getting up and wrapping his arms around Stiles’ torso and dragging him away from the edge of the roof. Stiles was scaring him, and _nothing_ scares Derek. He was limp in his arms, but he kept rambling, now looking at the stars.
“You know, it’s not fair for the stars. I mean, when we look up, yeah, we see darkness, but at least we see little sparkles in the night. But when they look down at us? All they see is us. Our dark little lives. ‘Cause we don’t shine like they do.” His face looks blank, numb.
“Stiles, shut _up._ Stop talking like a suicidal maniac. Something’s off with you... you need help or _something._ I’m calling Sco-“ he momentarily forgets and stops himself before he finishes the name, but Stiles catches it. His sparkling, whiskey eyes falter as his face falls.
“He’s dead, Derek. _Dead._ Can’t you get that into your thick skull!” He screams at Derek with a broken, hurt voice. He seems upset now, but to Derek, that seems better than the crazed, eerie and ghostly boy who was rambling earlier.
Derek’s voice was so at a loss and soft that it was almost a whimper. “I know, Stiles. And I’m sorry... I... just let me help you. He never would have wanted you to live like this.”
Stiles’ face weakened as he gave up on everything and just fell into Derek’s arms. Wracking sobs jolted through his body like electricity, and Derek just held him, rocking back and forth.
“I just feel like... like I’m _falling”,_ he mumbles, defeated into Derek’s soft shirt.
Suddenly Derek feels so angry, so angry at the world for targeting Stiles. For throwing hell and torture and destruction his way. He feels like he can’t do anything about it, and he feels so _helpless._ But for now, he just has to hold the broken boy.
“I know, and you know what? I’ll always be here to catch you.” | c1adaa428aea4c2097142950c86dba80 | ['d12c2e2df4094be9ac186ea1d0269105'] | Jackson grunts in annoyance. “Oh my god, Stilinski, _what_ is with the fucking puns! Even _you’re_ not usually this excessive, seriously, dude.”
Stiles’ cheerful expression falters and he hesitates before speaking. “Uh, well, you see my mom... Well she told a lot of puns, _especially_ at Christmas time. It was like she had all the groan-inducing dad-jokes saved up, and my dad and I thought they were hilarious and... and it was like her tradition and I’ve always tried to keep up her tradition, even when she’s not here.” His voice broke at his last words and he shrugged.
“Oh, Stiles, I’m sorry, man.” Jackson says softly. Stiles thinks it’s the first time he hasn’t referred to him as ‘Stilinski’. “I didn’t mean to-“
“Nah, ‘sall good, dude. Oh, hey look, it’s finally starting to snow!” He exclaims as a few specs of snow begin to fall on the roof.
Derek tries not to notice how adorable Stiles looks with snowflakes resting on his eyelashes. He really tries.
***
**It was one day until Christmas.**
And there was a blizzard. The kind that locks people in their houses for fear of being bombarded with a brick wall of deadly wind and snow.
“Are you _kidding_ me? My Porsche won’t survive this!” Jackson spat out angrily.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see the signs. I mean, did _no one_ notice how the birds were acting?” Lydia questioned.
“Perfect. Just perfect.” That was Derek.
“Yeah, s’now joke.” Absolute silence. “Get it? _Snow_ joke? Alright, alright, that was snowverkill.”
Stiles was answered with a cushion shoved in his face.
***
They have the feast and give gifts a day early, because the teens want to celebrate Christmas Day with their families. Derek feels a little sad about this, but Stiles invites him over to have his Christmas day with him and the Sheriff.
“I couldn’t, Stiles. It’s your time with your dad,” Derek had protested.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Sourwolf. You’re not spending Christmas-freaking-day alone. And besides, you need to eat our food because it’s not healthy for dad to eat that much turkey.”
Now, they’re all sitting by the fire, wearing Derek’s terribly-knitted sweaters, and giving each other their Christmas gifts.
Derek has given all his other gifts except Stiles’. He gets out a lacrosse-stick-shaped gift from behind the couch, wrapped in orange and blue paper.
“Hey, look, it’s the colours of the Mets!” Scott comments eagerly.
Stiles grins in his shockingly pink sweater and takes it from Derek. “Is it a _puppy?”_ He asks mockingly, shaking it. Derek’s grinning but waiting in fear. What if he doesn’t like it?
Stiles keeps talking. “No, no. Let me guess, the Nimbus 2000!” He chuckles. “Oh, my god, that moment was so weird in the movie. It was like they had no fucking idea what Harry’s mail was, even though it was in the shape of-“
_“Stiles,”_ Derek interrupted, anxiously desperate for Stiles’ approval and for him to just _open it_ already.
“Oh, right. I should probably open it.” His eyes flitted to the gift in his lap, and he started gently - and painstakingly slowly - tearing the paper. Everyone was waiting in anticipation.
Jackson couldn’t take it anymore. _“Stilinski_ , for god’s sake, just rip into it.” Jackson reached over and ripped into it himself.
“Hey-“
Stiles’ protests immediately died when he saw it. Surely enough, it was a lacrosse stick, but it was _amazing._ The shaft was dark wood, with gold embellishments on the pocket and the number ‘24’ carved on the end.
Stiles was just taking it all in silently, and Derek grew worried, feeling the need to justify it. “It-it isn’t just any lacrosse stick, I mean, you can use it instead of your baseball bat as well. The shaft is made of mountain ash, a-and the pocket is woven from mistletoe thread. Allison helped me infuse it with wolfsbane, too. So it’s like an all-in-one werewolf... weapon... thingy.”
Stiles finally looked up into Derek’s eyes, complete shock and admiration in his own. Then he got up, still holding the lacrosse stick, stalked over to where Derek was still standing and gave him the biggest hug he had ever given anyone. Sure, the back of Derek’s head was knocked by the stick and he got a face full of pink wool, but it was the best hug Derek had ever received.
***
Later, they’re sitting by the fire, settling down to watch the movie Elf (Stiles was adamant that it was a ‘must-see Christmas flick’), when Derek turns to Stiles sitting next to him on the couch.
“Um, Stiles, I have a... _pun.”_ Derek struggles to get the word out with a grimace.
“Oh, yeah?”Stiles replies with a smirk.
Derek clears his throat. “Um, what did Adam say the day before Christmas?”
Stiles shakes his head and waits in anticipation.
“It’s Christmas, Eve.”
Stiles stares at him for a few moments, before cracking up laughing. Derek releases the smallest of grins.
Stiles sucks in a breath with tears in his eyes, and tries to get in a sentence between laughs. “That... was... the best... oh, my god... _Derek said a pun.”_ He bursts into laughter again. “I taught you well!”
They watch Elf, and it goes until midnight when Derek looks down at Stiles. He’s fallen asleep and his head is resting on Derek’s shoulder, and Derek feels nothing but absolutely content.
**It was Christmas.**
**Author's Note:**
> thank you kindly for reading!
> comments and feedback are tremendously appreciated :) |
762faef954354d038deb83283a6ccf5f | ['d13235172fde4eabb63f2ac893e7a7ad'] | "You mad at me?" He asks, taking the sandwich gingerly.
"Wouldn't have given you my toastie if I was," Calum shrugs, moving the plate to the bedside table.
"But it's only half a toastie," Michael points out.
"So?"
"So are you half mad at me?"
Calum grins crookedly.
"No,"
"Promise?" Michael asks, but his smile is long gone. His voice changed, low and slow, the word a secret between them.
"Promise." Calum confirms, eyes flicking across Michael's face. The older boy finishes the sandwich in less than five bites and swings his legs up onto the bed. He's wearing a dark blue sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that make his legs give Luke a bit of competition. Calum likes his sweater. It kind of makes him look like a fluffy kitten that he wants to pet between the ears.
He scoots out from under the covers and absentmindedly puts his arms out, reaching for Michael without even trying, like it's some sort of natural instinct. Michael, however, doesn't complain as he pulls the younger boy into him, greedily, like he's been starved of this craving that's eating him alive. Calum is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and his bare legs feel slightly awkward slotted in between Michael's clothed ones. He doesn't say anything.
"M'sorry," he mumbles into Calum's hair. "Should've been there. For you."
"Me," Calum repeats, like he's trying to process it. He feels his own hot breath fan across the dips of Michael's collarbones, the way it bounces off his skin and returns to him like a gift. Michael smells really nice. Like detergent and soft cologne and a little bit of hair product.
"You," Michael's arms tighten, and he tangles his fingers in the mess of curly hair on the back of Calum's head. Calum doesn't ask why he didn't come in last night. Doesn't ask why he didn't crawl underneath the covers and wrap himself around the gentle curve of his body. He wants to ask where he slept last night. If it was with Ashton after all. If he was alone, or with Luke. If he looked at the same moon.
He doesn't, though.
And then Ashton is barging in and Calum's heart breaks a little bit. Just because.
And Ashton says they have an interview at 6 and John some other guys are coming over in a bit to get everyone ready. So Michael stands up and Calum watches his sweater get bunched up under his arm, the way his back muscles flex when he stretches up towards the sky, before the material falls back down.
Michael offers him a hand out of bed and retreats to the closet. The younger boy stands patiently in the middle of the room and plays with his own hands and wants to hold Michael's. Michael returns with an outfit for Calum, complete with a fresh pair of underwear and socks.
"I'll leave you to it, yeah?" Michael asks, handing them over. Calum makes sure their fingers touch as he accepts the clothes gratefully. He just nods and the red haired boy smiles with just the corner of his mouth before he leaves the room. Calum dresses slowly then, starting with the new boxers.
When he pads down the stairs moments later, Michael is hovering at the bottom, like he was waiting for him, but not.
"Oh, hey Cal," Michael says as if he hadn't seen him only minutes before. Calum gives him a smile. A real one.
"Hi, Mikey."
Michael doesn't smile, looks at him with a soft expression and takes his hand. Calum tries to intertwine their fingers, but Michael's hand rejects the motion. He drops his head quickly and pretends like it didn’t happen.
It's three o'clock by now, and John is early. Michael releases Calum's hand as soon as he sees John has brought Kuma along. The dog immediately runs to Calum, who perks up amazingly at the sight. He's on the ground in no time at all, playing and giggling with his favorite little animal.
Four o'clock rolls around before they know it, and a crew is ushering them out the door and loading them into cars. Luke goes with Michael and Calum with Ashton.
"You feeling alright?" Ashton asks after they've gotten out of the driveway. Calum looks at him, thinks for a moment, and then answers.
"I'm not good but I'm not bad either,"
Ashton narrows his eyes slightly, more concerned than anything else. He nods slowly, reaching over to place his prodigious hand over Calum's. Calum wishes it was Michael’s hand. But Ashton’s is warm and soft but also a little bit rough on the pads of his fingers so he focuses on that. It feels nice.
“I love you Cal. We all do, okay?” Ashton assures him, giving a small squeeze. Although Calum’s positive the question is rhetorical, he gives a small nod anyways. And then they’re pulling into the place and they’re being pulled out of the car and rushed inside the building before the fans can get too close to them.
And then Calum smiles and laughs and talks when he should and messes around with his friends like he knows they all want him to. And Michael is watching him carefully because he _ knows _ and Calum just wants to explode because he feels like he can’t take it anymore.
And then it’s over and Michael tries to slip into the same car as Calum but security doesn’t let him and Ashton is putting on his headphones and drifting off to sleep in the backseat before they’ve barely pulled away from the large building and Calum just wants to scream.
He doesn’t, though.
He forgot his headphones so he just looks out the window with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. The sky is so dark because the clouds are too thick to let the moon shine through and that makes him sad. Everything makes him sad sometimes. | 96cda8ef925c4d8b9902161094a97e72 | ['d13235172fde4eabb63f2ac893e7a7ad'] |
Late night, come home
**Author's Note:**
> ok so this is really bad but i wanted to write something happy because my other story is so angst-y and hurts my chest and i wanted to feel ALIVE okaY.
>
> title is from All The Small Things by Blink-182 lol bye
“I hope everybody is decent!” Michael calls as he walks in through the front door of his band’s shared home. He does not want a repeat of that time he walked into the living room and got an eye full of Luke and his...well, his...you know.
He gets something along the lines of a “yeah, sure” from Luke who is sprawled across the couch in the den watching TV. Ashton doesn’t respond, as he’s in the shower, playing music at full blast. Michael rolls his eyes.
The red haired boy hears a commotion of sorts coming from down the hall to his right as he takes off his shoes, followed by a yelp from what could be Calum, but didn’t sound…
Human?
Very much confused, Michael begins down the hallway.
“Calum?” He asks when he reaches the door at the end of the hall. Calum doesn’t make a sound, so he takes this as an invitation to come in. When he does, however, he kinda wishes he hadn’t.
Calum’s room is a mess. His duvet is thrown against a wall, his fitted sheet falling off, the curtains look like they’ve been ripped at the bottom, a lamp on one side of his bed has fallen, and right in the middle of it all: a small, Golden Retriever puppy, sitting happily in the center of Calum’s bed.
A split second later, Calum’s head is popping up from the other side of his bed.
“I can explain,”
Michael blinks.
“I saw him in the street, I couldn’t just-- I couldn’t just _ leave _ him Michael! What if he _ died? _ ” The younger boy flinches at his own words. Michael blinks again.
“Well what do we do with it?”
“What do you mean what do we do with it? We keep it!”
“Calum, we can’t keep it! We _ have _ nowhere to keep it! Have you forgotten that we are scheduled to be on tour in two months?” Michael hisses, stepping fully inside the room and closing the door behind him. He wants to have this conversation with Calum before Luke rushes in with his big mouth and they gang up on him or something. Stupid Luke.
“We can find room. In my room. I’ll move my bed or something.”
“Tour? Two months? Do those words mean nothing to you?” Michael is avoiding looking into the small puppies eyes. And also Calum’s eyes, because they’re basically the same type of eyes.
“Exactly! Two months! That’s enough time to train a puppy to live on a tour bus right?” Calum asks hopefully, climbing up to grab the puppy and pull it into his lap.
“Calum, _ no, _ ” Michael groans. “It’s not going to be a puppy forever. That thing is going to get big and it’s poops are gonna get bigger too. There would be absolutely no room for it on a bus,” He says matter-of-factly. “And no, we cannot just get a bigger bus.” He adds, when Calum looks like he’s about to say something.
“Michael, _ please _ . I’ll take such good care of him I promise! Look at him! He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life!” Calum pleads, grabbing one of the puppy’s paws and moving it so that he’s waving at Michael.
Michael sighs and closes his eyes tightly. He can’t look at them. Either of them. He’s going to break he can feel it.
“Calum…”
“Michael please!” Calum positively whines. As if to add to the drama, the puppy lets out a small whimper of distress. Michael is about to lose it.
“I’m getting Ashton.” He states. Calum will listen to Ashton, right? Ashton can handle this. Yeah.
“No, no, not Ashton, please,” Calum begs, clambering off the bed. He falls to the ground and reaches out to grab Michael’s calf to help him get back up. Michael groans, turning to hit his head against the wall rather loudly. “Please, Michael, he’ll make me throw him in a dumpster or something,” Calum says, shaking Michael’s shoulders and turning him back around.
“He has feelings too, ya know. He’ll help you find a good home for him, not a dumpster. Weirdo.” Michael has no choice but to actually look at Calum’s eyes now, and he wants to die. Calum is looking at him with the most pitiful, yet hopeful eyes he’s ever seen. Michael wants the ground to swallow him whole. Literally a tornado could rip through here right at this very moment and he wouldn’t care because it would be so much less painful than what is happening right now. He feels words coming out of his throat like vomit -- _ word vomit -- _ and oh God, why on Earth is he thinking about Mean Girls right now?
“Calum…” And it’s happening and what the actual f--
Calum is kissing him. Quickly and a little bit too hard and Michael realizes he’s not kissing back and it’s only a little too late because Calum is pulling back and looking at Michael like he’s seen a ghost.
“I’m sorry, I - I don’t know why I did that,” Calum steps backwards and he doesn’t stop until he’s falling (quite ungracefully) onto the bed. Michael blinks.
“No, please don’t hate me I - I’m s-sorry, okay, here just,” Calum’s eyes fill with tears as he grabs the puppy and puts him on the ground. “Take him, take him to Ashton take him to the - the _ pound, _ just -”
“Calum, it’s okay,” Michael says after a moment of silence. |
1dc9666f6fa5490e895fef38f3e5c590 | ['d13ce4cc2a284217b1c94b2ef83eedd1'] | "Paperwork? Look, Dolls, this is not this partnership works. You do the investigation and get the warrants. I take down the bad guys. You do the paperwork. Why change such a perfect system now?" She smiled up at him.
"Everyone has to pull their weight around here."
"But, Dolls," she whined, sticking her bottom lip out, "I hate paperwork." She crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I promise not to bother you with warrant requests anymore?"
"Then we'll end up in court for violating civil liberties because you'll just go do the thing without bothering to get a warrant," he replied, smiling sweetly. "Just do the paperwork, Earp. Before you know it, the shift will over and you'll be headed home for bed."
"I can do it if you want," Waverly said from her desk. She'd come up the stairs and heard Wynonna whining. That particular variation of whine indicated that it was paperwork day and Waverly welcomed the opportunity to lose herself in the mundane task. "I don't mind, really."
Wynonna smirked up at Dolls before turning to Waverly. "You're the best sister. Thanks, baby girl."
Waverly gathered the files strewn across Wynonna's desk and lifted them into her arms. She offered a small smile and went back to her desk. "Thanks." She pulled her chair back and lowered herself into it. Pulling the first one off the top of the pile, she opened it in front of her and took a pen from her pen holder. She pressed the space bar on her computer continuously until the screen lit up and she could sign into the department database.
Nicole walked in just as Waverly was finishing the first file. Waverly barely acknowledged her presence before dropping the file to start a new pile on the floor next to her. She reached up to get the next file and was stopped by the coffee cup Nicole set down on top of the pile.
"Hi, Waverly," she said with a bright smile. "You were up late, thought you could use an extra coffee."
"I'm fine, thanks." Waverly tried to return a small smile but it just made her angry for some reason. Tightening her jaw, she lifted the cup, took a file, and put the cup back in its place.
"She's probably still pumped up from the workout we got in this morning," Dolls said. "Wynonna could probably use the coffee though. She, of course, is hungover and did not join us this morning."
Nicole looked at Waverly with a quizzical raise of her eyebrow. Waverly shrugged, lifting the cup and handing it back to Nicole. "Alright, then." She turned towards Wynonna's desk. "Here, Earp." Wynonna grabbed the cup of coffee, spilling the hot drink on both of their fingers. "Fucking hell, Wynonna." Nicole stuck her fingers in her mouth, soothing the burning skin.
"So have you heard back from Pat yet?" Dolls asked quietly. He shot Waverly a look, silently saying he could see her watching Nicole. She quickly lowered her eyes and ducked her head.
"No. He said today though so if I don't hear from him by end of shift, I'll text him."
"Everything go okay last night when you talked to him?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was all okay. He was hesitant at first but came around after some yelling."
"Wow, you yelled at Pat? You sure that didn't tip him off?" Wynonna asked. "I don't think I've ever heard you yell at him, even when he was driving you crazy."
"I doubt he thought anything of it. I've never been this pissed off at him before so this was a special circumstance." Nicole's voice cracked and she stopped to clear her throat. Waverly glanced up at her briefly before dropping her eyes back to her file. "He didn't buy that I was switching sides so easily. I had to convince him of that." Nicole sat at the corner of Dolls's desk. "Apparently, I'm too much of a do-gooder."
"Sure," Waverly mumbled. Nicole raised an eyebrow but ignored it, unsure what Waverly she understood Waverly correctly.
"So from the pile Waverly is working through and the empty space on Wynonna's desk, I'm guessing it's paperwork day?"
"Good guess, Haught." Dolls pointed to the pile. "Take half. Maybe we'll get out of her on time. Since Wynonna isn't bothering to help again." he said, glancing at Wynonna. She rolled her eyes and went back to whatever it was she was doing. Sleeping with her eyes open, he assumed. At this point, he also assumed that she had perfected it.
"Great," Nicole said sarcastically with a large fake smile. "This day is going to be awesome." She picked up some files and took them to her desk, quietly beginning to work.
~~~~~~~~~~
Across town, Pat paced back and forth in front outside Bobo's door. After he talked to Nicole last night, he hadn't been able to get over the bad feeling that had settled in his gut. Nicole had always been a great partner and an even better friend. Their new relationship had created a rift between them but it was inevitable. She was inherently good and he was, well he was Pat. He was the cop who fed information to the gang he was tasked with arresting. He was the cop who was fired for a mishap when they went to arrest members of that gang. He was the cop who officially joined the gang when he was fired. | 37058ed654cf489db9871c12ce9bc85e | ['d13ce4cc2a284217b1c94b2ef83eedd1'] |
1. Let It Go
**Author's Note:**
> Here's the first chapter of my new multi-chapter fic. I hope you guys like it! It's a bit different but I've enjoyed writing it so far. :)
>
> Police ranks are based on US jurisdictions. I imagine Purgatory being a small city, rather than the small town it's depicted as in the show.
Nicole raised the coffee mug to her lips and took a sip. After a few hours out here, it was cold coffee but she didn’t mind it. She was just putting the mug back in the holder when a car flew past her. She sighed as she flipped her siren on and pulled out behind it. The driver hadn’t even pretended to slow down like the other cars passing her had. As she sped after the car, she mentally patted herself on the back for successfully estimating the vehicle was traveling 84 mph. When the car pulled over, she stopped behind it and stepped out of the cruiser. She straightened her collar and ran a hand through her deep, fire red hair.
She walked up to the driver’s side and tapped on the window.
“Can I help you, Officer?” the driver asked.
Nicole looked down into the deepest whiskey eyes. They were eyes she could drown in. She felt her knees giving out below her and leaned on the door. Nicole cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure. “Morning, ma’am. Do you know why I pulled you over?”
The woman offered her a large smile. “Was I going a little fast back there? I’m sorry about that.”
Nicole held back the laugh. This woman was going to try to get out of this using that sweet smile of hers. “That’s correct, ma’am. You were going 84 in a 55 zone. Can I see your license and registration.”
“Aw, really? Couldn’t you let this one go, Officer,” her eyes flicked down to the name tag on Nicole’s chest before meeting Nicole’s eyes again, “Haught?” she finished with a smirk.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s not possible today.” Nicole held her hand out for the requested documents and waited. The woman sighed but pulled them out of the glove compartment for Nicole. “You visiting?” Nicole asked, noting the New York City address on the driver’s license.
“No. Just moving here, actually,” she said, pointing over her shoulder to the loaded back seat. “What a way to welcome me to town.” She let out the most adorable giggle Nicole had ever heard.
Nicole offered a small smile as she handed back the driver’s documents and the speeding ticket. She explained the ticket to the driver as well as what rights she had under the circumstances. The driver thanked her. “And, um, welcome to Purgatory,” Nicole said as she stepped back from the car. She watched the car pull away before she returned to the cruiser to upload the ticket and write her narrative.
\-------------
When her shift ended a few hours later, she made her way back to the station to clock out. Her Lieutenant caught her eye and motioned for her to come up to his officer. She slumped her shoulders and walked up the stairs. So close to freedom. She prayed this would be quick. She wanted to get in a long run before her date tonight. Nicole didn’t see a future with this girl but they enjoyed each other’s company.
“Haught, got your evals back. You’re cleared.” Lieutenant Nedley sat back in his chair and linked his hands in his lap. “Take a seat.”
Oh god, Nicole thought. This can’t be good. “Everything okay, sir?”
“We should talk about what’s going to happen now.” He waited until she sat down. “You’re being assigned a new partner.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I have a partner. Adams.”
“He was discharged this morning.”
“What?” she exploded, jumping up from the chair. “And you’re just telling me this now? This is a mistake, Lieutenant. We all would have done exactly what he did and you damn well know it.” She was seeing red and leaned her hands on the desk in front of her.
“Sit down, Haught.” She shook her head. “That’s an order.” She dropped down into the chair. She might be seething mad but she would never disobey an order. “Look, it wasn’t my decision. He was given a choice. He made his choice. There’s nothing I can do at this point. Your partner will be here at 8am tomorrow. You’re coming off traffic. Dolls will brief you in the morning on the status of this case.”
They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Nicole was running through every moment of that day last month. She retraced their steps in her head, looking for any discrepancy, any issue to justify Adams leaving the department. She could find none. She stared across the desk at the Lieutenant, waiting for his to say something. He continued to sit in silence, waiting for her.
“Who’s the new partner?” she finally asked. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere here until she had a chance to talk to Adams.
“New kid,” he said quickly. “Just transferred to the department.”
“You’re giving me a rookie? Are you serious?”
“Look, she’s an experienced officer from a big city. She knows plenty about Bobo’s gang. You don’t have to train this girl. You two just need to work together and bring this bastard down."
“What the hell’s she doing in Purgatory then?” Nicole was still focused on what was happening, on getting a new partner, on getting the damn new kid.
“Hell if I know. Holliday vouched for her, though. Said something about knowing her since she was in nappies.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “You think a rec from Doc is helpful in this situation?”
“Look, Nicole, you better get on board with this. Whether you like it or not, she’s your new partner.”
“Fine. We done?” |
45431ebc34b3486b93729f6447360a3d | ['d165fa875e35440aaa0c027bd03cb42f'] | George’s mom has been handling his sick baby sister and finally she’s just like “George what on earth” and she goes to the porch and sees **DEAD MR. GREGORY ON HER PORCH.** So of course she calls the police and has to explain awkwardly and _of course_ the police show up. The officer on duty is actually a really nice guy (or Jack would still be in federal prison today). He had responded to multiple calls against Gregory anyway and knew the guy was a nasty mean old man and, and so the officer doesn’t feel good possibly doing something terrible to a kid _who is a dumbass_ but doesn’t know better.
So he gives George and Jack a VERY HEAVY WARNING. Like a “do this again and I will throw you in juvie” and then of course Jack goes home thoroughly warned by the law but then gets **REAMED** by his mother. He still thinks stealing a body is not a huge deal but he wouldn’t ever do it again after the lecture he got from Linda. **“JACK WYATT DALTON, HOW WE TREAT OUR DEAD SAYS A LOT MORE ABOUT US THAN IT SAYS ABOUT THEM.”**
And so he’s always lived his life thinking it was hilarious but not like a huge thing. Maybe people were just mad they stole Mr. Gregory and not a body from the cemetery. He thought about it for a while too, but he knew Linda would tan his hide so he’s never tried.”
Mac blinks at Jake who had hardly taken a breath during the story. His face was priceless and his hand motions had been impeccable. And Jack is over in the corner, red-faced, at least having the decency to look ashamed.
“I was seven and I could hear Aunt Linda yelling about a mile away from next door. You should have seen it.”
“Oh my God, Jack,” Mac stares at his partner with a familiar expression of horror. “I kind of thought you were kidding.”
Jake grins. “It’s amazing what happens in towns with less than 2,000 people.”
Mac shakes his head, the look of horror still plastered to his face. “We are never moving to Rose Glen.”
Jake laughs.
6. An Afternoon in Hawaii
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Crossover (McDanno)
It’s a completely harmless question that pops up in his head, and Danny can’t help but turn to Mac - who is watching the friendly ribbing and bickering between their respective partners with a half upturned smile.
“So, how did you two meet?”
Mac turns to him quickly, arms still crossed and he blinks for several seconds. “Uh…,” he trails off slowly, “…he hit me.”
This pauses the Army/Navy feud long enough for Steve to call back in confusion, “Like, with his car?” Danny knows where Steve got that particular modifier and he pushes the thought away and waits for confirmation.
Jack buries his face in his hands as Mac laughs.
“No, with his fist.” Mac grins shamelessly. “In my face.”
Danny can’t help but let a small self-satisfied smile creep onto his face as he remembers the particular satisfaction he’d experienced once when his knuckles smacked across the jaw of one Steven J. McGarrett. Not a bad way to find a boyfriend, if you were asking him.
7. Summer Kisses
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A quiet moment alone at the Phoenix Foundation
It’s quiet under the staircase, away from the main thoroughfare of The Phoenix Foundation. Mac leans against the wall, the cool brick a balm to the heat on his skin from the California summer. Jack is close enough to him that he can smell the aftershave Jack bought on a trip to Shanghai. They’re close, and Mac relishes the way that Jack seems to block out all light and sound, barricading them into their own pocket universe.
And they kiss, long and languid - Mac’s shoulders still not broad enough to match the width of Jack’s, their bodies pressed together, Mac arching towards the warmth of Jack’s abdomen, Jack’s arm barricading him in on one side. Jack leans, and it’s the most beautiful feeling, having them in this quiet corner, alone and warm and together. A moment between the two of them, Jack’s lips catching on Mac’s lower, the buzzing noise of Phoenix passing them by.
Jack’s free hand slips quietly into the hair that brushes Mac’s shoulders when he tilts his head to better slot his mouth against Jack - the trailing ends of a phase his father thought was rebellion at eleven, when in reality Mac just loved his hair. And having Jack gently pull at the strands sends shivers down his spine in the best way, a happy bubble at the pit of his stomach growing and pushing at his heart and his ribcage - because he loves his hair, and he loves that Jack loves his hair too.
The callouses on Jack’s hands catch against the smooth skin of his neck and Mac smiles, breaking the soft and gentle back and forth, and a chuckle bursts from Jack’s lips. “What?” He whispers - but a whisper in Jack’s voice is hardly a whisper at all. He’s smiling, the edges of his mouth turned up, and Mac has an amazing view of the scruff that had just been rubbing his skin tender only moments before. The gentle sandpaper, an oxymoron in human form, if ever one could exist, was Jack’s perpetual five o’clock shadow. Mac didn’t like when he went without it.
“Nothing,” Mac’s voice is rough, crackling over the edges of the word that means anything and everything at the same time. “I just love you.”
Jack bumps his nose against Mac’s, and Mac’s heart swells. Jack traces the skin along Mac’s cheek and down to his lips before he presses a single chaste kiss to the corner of Mac’s mouth.
“I love you too, you know,” Jack’s voice is low and carries a sense of reverence.
Mac’s hands slide up from where they had been clinging to the waistband of Jack’s jeans like they were a life raft amidst a sea of feelings and they land on his shoulders, thumbs brushing his neck gently. There’s a hint of a farmers tan just under his collar, a strange souvenir from a long and exhausting mission in Costa Rica they’d returned from only three days before.
“Yeah, I do, I’m just happy,” Mac replies, watching Jack carefully. Jack’s face is a light that shines through the darkest clouds of Mac’s self loathing and self doubt and he never tires of it.
“Oh good,” Jack teases, pressing a series of kisses in quick succession to Mac’s lips eliciting more laughter, “me too.”
**Author's Note:**
> If tumblr doesn't die come and find me LINK | 0b7b8feeb0964ba38c43ae104f15f697 | ['d165fa875e35440aaa0c027bd03cb42f'] | Bobby nodded, glancing at Mary who smiled softly. Sam had a feeling that given enough time, the other hunters would find a way to settle into their new lives, and the constant itch to return home would dull.
They had time.
Gabriel returned frequently with Jack to visit as they searched for the artifacts for the spell. They would stay for a week at a time, before disappearing for another two or three weeks with little to no contact.
Gabriel updated the family with his progress on teaching Jack how to properly control his powers, and he would often bring small souvenirs from his travels for Mary and Sam. (Dean once complained that he was feeling left out and Gabriel brought him a live jungle cat from Egypt. Dean had freaked out upon finding it hiding in in his bed, purring and licking its paws. After that, Dean stopped complaining, but for some unexplained reason the cat stayed.)
The cat made himself at home, curled up like a rock half across Dean’s lap when they watched movies in the “Fortress of Dean-itutde”, shoving Dean closer to Cas as the cat took up the space by the armrest. Dean didn’t seem to mind, and Sam watched Dean use the excuse to sit pressed against Cas’ side, smiling softly the entire time.
Sam watched Dean over the weeks, happy to note that his brother’s relationship with his angel was progressing nicely. He caught Dean and Cas holding hands at breakfast and it made him smile. He gently teased his brother, happy with the way Dean’s face turned red, but sad that it made him remove his hand from Castiel’s, grumbling.
It took Gabriel three months of off and on visits before he found the first artifact. He burst through the door to the bunker with a triumphant yell, Jack hot on his heels.
Sam glanced up from the war table where he was working on coordinating a hunt between Maggie and Charlie out in Nevada - some kind of possible cryptid, though he was having trouble finding it in the lore.
“I have one dead prophet cloak, fresh from Israel!” Gabriel crowed, holding a steel grey goatskin cloak aloft as he skipped down the steps. He grinned at Sam as he passed. “Hiya, Sammy!” Sam smiled at the bubbly and infectious tone, watching Gabriel’s progression as he swept through the tactical room and into the library, tossing the cloak onto the table before glancing around.
“Where is everyone?” Jack asked quietly, pausing at the back of Sam’s chair. Sam glanced up at him, his heart swelling with warmth at the sight of Jack, stable, happy, and learning how to be himself.
“Uh, mom’s out with Bobby on a hunt, and Dean and Cas have been going on ‘not-dates’,” Sam joked. “They’re out having dinner at a little place in town. But don’t call it a date.”
“So they’ve gotten their heads out of their asses?” Gabe asked, jogging back in before plopping himself into a chair near Sam. Jack joined him, pulling out the chair next to Sam gently.
“Not quite,” Sam laughed. It had been a while since Gabriel’s last visit, and the positivity in the air was infectious. His heart was fit to burst at the sight of Gabriel, happy, hopeful, and energetic here, present, and Sam wanted nothing more than to…
He halted his train of thought at Gabriel’s salacious smirk that was suddenly directed at him, his heart jumping into his throat. Gabriel cleared his and turned to Jack. “Hey Jack, why don’t you go pop in on Dean and Cas and give them a good scare.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Jack peered at Gabriel with narrowed eyes. There seemed to be a moment of silent communication between the two before Jack jerked up quickly and turned towards the door. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I’ll go do that.”
He disappeared with a soft flap of wings, leaving Sam and Gabriel alone in the bunker - and for the first time Sam felt the ominous silence pressing down on him as he avoided locking eyes with Gabriel.
His endeavor was futile because Gabriel was suddenly there, pushing Sam’s laptop away from him and turning Sam’s chair around to face him before he slid into Sam’s lap gently, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders and looking down at Sam’s gobsmacked expression.
“Hiya, Sam,” Gabriel said softly, a repeat of his earlier greeting, but the tone was heavy with a soft affection Sam hadn’t ever heard from the Trickster Archangel. “Would it be cheesy to ask if you missed me?”
Sam’s hands moved to Gabriel’s hips as the other man slid closer, one of his free hands winding into the ends of Sam’s hair at the back of his neck. He felt pleasantly warm all over, like a buzz of _ just enough _ alcohol. “It might be cheesy,” Sam teased softly. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been staying away so long,” Gabriel murmured, his thumb brushing gently back and forth across Sam’s neck. “I really have been looking for the ingredients to the spell, but I’ve also been...trying to work some things out for myself.”
“I know,” Sam admitted quietly. And he did know. He’d been working things out for himself too while Gabriel was gone. And from the way Gabriel was acting, he assumed they’d both reached the same conclusion.
Sam took a breath and Gabriel took that moment to press their lips together.
It wasn’t fireworks, not exactly. But it was so much better. Sam felt his body go warm, a lava flow of emotions flowing through his veins as Gabriel wound his hands deeper into Sam’s hair, and Sam’s hands tightened their grip on Gabriel. They were chest to chest, and Sam gasped as Gabriel sucked lightly against his bottom lip. |
1c03fe49b8be4f208949f891a97e513c | ['d16b6b28ce324d38a20463bfe5589ef9'] | Adrianne let out an exasperated sigh, but the amused glint in her eye betrayed her. “Divines save me, Nadine Rielle.” She took Nadine’s hand, twining their fingers. “You’ll get a lot out of taking this one week off, trust me. Why don’t we make a little deal? If you can take this week to reflect with Drevis—and not be completely petulant about it—I’ll make sure you’re rewarded fairly. How does that sound?”
Nadine fought hard to keep the pout off of her face. “Sounds great, Miss.”
* * *
The plush armchair devoured Nadine, its tall back and round arms cradling her while she waited for Drevis to return. They were in the room she had been in when Giraud had first tutored her—they were doing the same thing this evening, she supposed, just in a very different manner. Drevis probably wouldn’t make her come as she translated the book she stole all those weeks ago. Or oh, maybe he would… the thought made heat pool deep in her stomach as Drevis returned with an earthenware bottle and two matching cups.
“Sujamma,” he explained, setting the cups on the table and unstopping the decanter. “I save it for special occasions.” The way he smiled at Nadine, beaming and genuine, warmed her through, as did the alcohol. “Reminds me of home. Careful not to drink too much—it packs a punch if you’re not used to it.”
Nadine nodded, savouring the sweet burn of the liquor on her tongue.
“So—how much do you know of the Edged Lexicon?” Drevis asked. “I’m curious as to what drew you to partnering up with Brynjolf in the first place.” He smiled wryly. “Well, other than the obvious reasons.”
“Money, for one,” Nadine shrugged. “Although it was the first time I’d ever stolen anything, so that wasn’t the only reason.” She scratched her scalp, thinking. “I’d heard of the book from a couple of more… magically aligned acquaintances I’d met along my travels, who had told me it was a valuable Daedric artifact filled with obscure, arcane knowledge. They never really elaborated on what that knowledge was—honestly, I’m not sure they knew either—but the thought of getting to actually discover and translate this book that few others had ever heard of, let alone seen? That was too enticing an offer to pass up.” Nadine ran her braid through her fingers pensively. “And then when I did get my hands on the book… well.” She blushed, grinning. “You know the rest.”
Drevis held the book, wistfully running his fingers over the worn leather cover. “I do indeed. I was there the night you procured it.” He looked up. “And when you brought it to the Arcanaeum. Would you like to know its real history?”
“Yes please,” Nadine said, sitting forward in her seat.
“Even I don’t know all the details, but I know some. Its origins are debated—some say it was written by a Dunmer priestess, others say it was curated by a collective of scholars and occultists. Both are possible.”
“Wait, I thought this was a Daedric tome. Wasn’t it written by servants of the Daedra?”
“Ah, this brings me to my next point. While the text is Daedric in nature—written in the Daedric alphabet, features details on several known Daedra—it isn’t explicitly Daedric. In fact, it features other divine beings, and is more encyclopedic than it is religious doctrine. You might even call it a guidebook of sorts.” He smiled. “Or, that’s what it seems like to me, anyway. It certainly was during the Sanctum’s beginnings.”
Nadine looked at Drevis, curiosity piqued. “You were part of that?”
“Oh yes, I suppose you haven’t heard all about how our social club came to be, have you?” Drevis uncorked the bottle of sujamma, topping up his and Nadine’s cups. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this story. It was four or five years back. I’d recently met Nazir, under some… interesting circumstances, and been introduced to Adrianne and Ulfberth through him and Astrid. We all had a… well, let’s call it shared interests. We’d meet at Adrianne’s house, or occasionally secluded taverns, and have our fun. Obviously, the things we did required a degree of discretion—Adrianne and Ulfberth were married, and well known in the community, and these sort of things tend to be frowned upon. Over time, an idea began to come to me.” Drevis smiled, scratching his chin. “You see, I’d had this book for quite a while by that point. It’d been gifted to me from a friend who had long since given up the sort of lifestyle I enjoyed, and had taken all he could from it. So one evening, as I arrived to Adrianne’s home, I brought along the tome, along with a suggestion. Initially, Adrianne laughed it off. After all, it was so farfetched and absurd—who wouldn’t?” He swirled the sujamma in his cup, taking a sip. “But as time wore on, and as we struggled to find places to convene, and as a friend with contacts in the Thieves’ Guild said he might know a venue that would be perfect—eventually the idea became reality. And that, my dear girl, is how the Sanctum came to be.”
Nadine smiled. “Gods, there’s so much history wrapped up in this place. In this tome, even.”
“There is. And you’re now a part of it.” Drevis placed the book on the table, next to the scattered pages of Daedric to Tamrielic alphabet and bottles of ink. “I’ll give you some time to go over this, and grab us both a bite to eat. Have fun.” | e632f4c64b6c4c55898fb40e7d5fcf2b | ['d16b6b28ce324d38a20463bfe5589ef9'] | A wave of quiet ran through the arena as the crowd waited with bated breath for the final trial. One man remained, but that man was Ulfberth War-Bear, whose endowment was as large and imposing as the man himself. Nadine had never been able to manage more than half of it, and the only person within the Sanctum she’d ever seen tackle the entirety of the behemoth member with their mouth was his wife Adrianne.
Ulfberth towered over Gwilin, his muscular frame in marked contrast to the Bosmer’s lithe, willowy one. Despite the staggering size difference, Ulfberth’s presence seemed to soothe rather than intimidate, his kind blue eyes smiling down at Gwilin.
“Holding up alright, cub?”
Gwilin nodded, smiling back at Ulfberth. If he was nervous about climbing the metaphorical High Hrothgar that awaited, it didn’t show.
“Good. Because I can’t wait to fuck your sweet little mouth again.”
Gwilin barely waited for Ulfberth to position himself at his mouth before descending on his cock, lavishing the thick member with soft, sweet kisses that ran from the head down to the hard, throbbing shaft, gradually turning into sloppy licks that traced back to where he had began. It was clear he wanted to take his time, and Ulfberth was obviously happy to let him, letting out a blissful sigh as he basked in the attention. He took Gwilin’s ponytail in his hand, running the copper locks languidly through his fingers, and guided his cock into Gwilin’s mouth.
Gwilin’s lips parted and pressed against Ulfberth’s formidable head, enveloping it as it was eased into his mouth, inch by thick, hard inch. Ulfberth took his mouth with care, thrusting in part way in then sliding out, cock slick with spit. The pace was slower than Nazir’s had been, allowing Gwilin to take everything he was given. Ulfberth slid in further, eliciting slight gagging noises from the Bosmer, but no pause from his attentions and no words spoken from Brynjolf. This seemed to please Ulfberth, who lovingly stroked Gwilin’s hair while muttering words of approval through short, choked breaths.
Nadine gazed in awe as she realised Gwilin was mere inches from taking the entire thing. _By the Divines, where did he put it?_ Ulfberth’s strokes were slower, more deliberate now, allowing Gwilin to accept him and adjust to his size. Gwilin’s fervent sucking continued, eager to please his Master, saliva now cascading down his pointed chin. Ulfberth’s thrusts had slowed to almost a stop, Gwilin now dictating the pace and depth, wet, slick mouth enveloping his cock nearly entirely.
In the end, he couldn’t manage it all, but that was hardly the point; what he had managed was staggering. She saw Ulfberth throw back his head in anguished ecstasy as Gwilin laved his cock with his skilful mouth, withdrawing the engorged member with a loud growl of frustrated desire.
“Fuck, that was hard to hold off. Adrianne’s got competition.” Ulfberth grinned at Gwilin, steely blue eyes meeting the Bosmer’s glimmering brown ones. “You’ve definitely passed the first half of your initiation, cub.”
Gwilin’s eyes widened. “First half?”
Ulfberth nodded. “Yep. Didn’t think this was it, did ya?” He let out a low chuckle, softly stroking Gwilin’s nervous face. “Don’t worry though, we’ll give your mouth a break. We’ll be the ones doing the work in the second part.”
* * *
Nadine stood beside Ingun and Ysolda, waiting for her orders. In front of her was the rack where Gwilin had been mounted and strapped, supine. Adrianne stood next to him, attending to him with an almost maternal care before turning to the women. Her demeanour hardened.
“Well, girls. I trust you’ve all behaved this week? Let’s hope so, because there’s a treat in store if you have.”
Nadine’s heart raced. The combination of hearing there was to be a new guest and Vex’s lesson the previous week had ensured her behaviour was faultless.
“Ingun. When was the last time you came?”
“Two weeks ago, with Master Drevis, Miss,” Ingun responded, a smile of twisted pride on her face.
Adrianne raised an eyebrow. “I guess that would explain your inappropriate behaviour with our new guest earlier, then. Good. Since you’re so happy about well you’ve performed, you won’t mind going another week without release.”
Ingun’s smug look swiftly vanished, realising the grave mistake she’d made. She opened her mouth to say something, but then obviously thought better of it, straightening her face into a mask of controlled contention. It was Adrianne’s turn to look smug this time, smiling cruelly at Ingun before continuing down the line.
“Nadine?”
“One week ago, Miss.” Nadine smiled, remembering the encounter. “With Mistress Vex.”
Adrianne’s expression remained unchanged. “And you’ve been performing better on your homework assignment, I trust?”
Nadine nodded, careful not to seem too self-congratulatory as she responded. “Yes, Miss - I can nearly manage all of the cucumber, now. I’ve been better at holding off from release, too, although in all honesty I’ve had to abstain from thinking of such things because I haven’t trusted myself to not go too far this week.” Nadine blushed, realising the frankness of her admissions in front of a still relative stranger. “You can read my notes if you’d like, Miss.”
“Can’t help but be the teacher’s pet, can you, Nadine?” Adrianne smirked, the hint of a playful glint in her eye. “Almost as bad as Ingun, but at least I can trust you to behave. Good work.” She worked her way down to Ysolda, eyes immediately zeroing in on the plum coloured marks lining her neck.
“So, Ysolda. What about you?”
Ysolda’s face burned as red as her hair, barely able to look Adrianne in the eye as she mumbled her answer. “Three nights ago… with Mikael.”
Ingun snorted, earning her a death glare from Adrianne. She turned back to the redhead, eyebrow cocked.
“What, the bard?” Adrianne asked. “The one that Nadine clobbered the other week?”
Ysolda nodded, scowling. “Yes, him.” |
10ca3fc445ae48bcaeb612f39efb6ef8 | ['d16f740ff0624077a219f2e9bf1a73fe'] |
Late Night Conversation
After getting the all clear from the medical team at the DEO, Maggie and Alex made their way back home. They drove in silence, Alex dozing off with her head on the window and Maggie stealing glances at her girlfriend any time she could. She held on to the steering wheel with a deadly grip, the feeling of the car’s engine being the only thing keeping her grounded. She couldn’t break down. Not now. Not when Alex needed her. The focus should be on Alex and only Alex.
When they got home Alex immediately fell asleep, the exhaustion and terror of the past two days taking their toll. She curled into Maggie’s warm embrace in the safety of their bed and drifted to sleep.
Maggie, however, Maggie can’t sleep. Not after she came so close to losing her girlfriend, the love of her life, her everything. So she stayed awake, gently running her hands over Alex’s back, as if her touch could take away all of the agent’s pain and suffering. She’s sofly crying, careful not to wake her sleeping girlfriend. She watches her chest rise and fall making sure that she’s here and she’s alive. Everytime she tries to close her eyes, she sees Alex’s lifeless body floating in the tank. So she stops trying and stays up for hours.
But then Alex is turning violently in her sleep, she’s calling out for help, she’s sweating and shivering at the same time. She tries to kick off the covers because she feels like she’s drowning, she feels suffocated. She wakes with a start, screaming Maggie’s name.
Maggie is there in an instant with her soothing words and soothing touch. She wraps Alex in her arms. Alex is clutching on to Maggie’s shirt for dear life and sobbing into her chest. Maggie holds her even tighter and whispers softly.
“It’s okay, Alex. You’re safe.”
“You’re home and you’re safe.”
“I’m here, sweetie. Everything’s okay.”
Her whispers and Alex’s sobs are the only sounds in the quiet of the night.
Alex still feels like she can’t breathe. All she can feel is the water filling up her lungs and pain, all the pain. Her breaths are shallow and frantic. Maggie lays a hand on her chest and guides her through it.
“Breathe baby. In and out, in and out.” Alex’s breathing slowly starts to go back to normal.
“Just like that, Alex. You’re doing great,” Maggie keeps reassuring her. And finally Alex’s crying slowly begins to die down and she’s calmer. All because of Maggie; because she’s here for her and she loves her.
Alex pulls back with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she mumbles, her voice rough from crying.
Maggie is quick to calm her. “Shhh, don’t apologize, babe, you didn’t wake me.”
Alex wants to ask Maggie why she wasn’t sleeping when she notices her red eyes and tear tracks on her face. Before she can say anything, Maggie, as if reading her mind, says “I’m okay, don’t worry about me, Alex. Just try and go back to sleep.”
Alex knows that Maggie isn’t okay, but she’s not surprised by her reluctance to talk about it. However, she won’t let her girlfriend keep her feelings inside and hurt alone.
“No, no. Maggie, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Alex lays a gentle hand on Maggie’s cheek. Maggie instinctively leans into the warm touch.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she says, shaking her head. She doesn’t want to burden Alex with her fears right now. It’s Alex who was kidnapped after all and Maggie shouldn’t be making this about herself. She can deal with everything on her own. There’s no need to drag Alex, her sweet Alex, into her mess.
But Alex isn’t giving up. “Sweetie, talk to me. Please,” she whispers.
Maggie looks up into Alex’s eyes for the first time. All she sees is patience and understanding, and love. So much love. She takes a deep breath and she can feel the tears threatening to fall.
“I can’t believe I came so close to losing you, Alex. I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” With that, the tears start to fall. Alex is wiping them with the pad of her thumb and kissing Maggie’s cheeks. She knows that Maggie still has more to say, so she stays quiet. “And I can’t help thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten to you in time. I should’ve been faster, smarter. I should’ve been there sooner. And I can’t sleep because I keep seeing you in that tank and I keep blaming myself.”
Alex wipes the tears from her girlfriend’s face and gently takes her hands. “Maggie, listen to me, okay? I’m here and I’m safe. You and Kara got to me in time. You did everything you could. You were so brave. You always are. While I was in that tank, not for a second did I doubt that you would find me. That’s what helped me hold on. I held on for you, Mags. I knew you’d come for me. You’ll never lose me. I promise you that. You’re stuck with me.”
Maggie let out a small laugh at that. “Good.”
“But Maggie,” Alex paused, waiting for Maggie to look at her. “No pushing down feelings, okay? I’m here for you and you can tell me everything. You don’t have to deal with this alone. We both went through hell and now we’re going to help each other heal.”
“How are you so amazing, Danvers?”
“You’re the amazing one, Sawyer.” Alex kissed Maggie on the forehead and gently laid them both down. “Now how about we both try to get some sleep?”
“Sounds good to me,” replied Maggie, trying to stifle a yawn. “I love you, Alex.”
“I love you too, Maggie.”
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you liked this!! Kudos and comments greately appreciated. You can find me on tumblr @alexdxmnvers | d9be493b0e074bba895baef9ee250593 | ['d16f740ff0624077a219f2e9bf1a73fe'] | Maggie was exhausted. Days filled with paperwork were the most draining and dreaded by all detectives in the precinct. Lucky for Maggie, she had an amazing girlfriend to come home to after hard days. She would never understand what she did to find someone as amazing and beautiful as Alex.
Still lost in her thoughts, she opened the door to Alex's apartment only to be greeted with the sight of Alex in the kitchen, lightly swaying her hips to the music from the speakers. She looked absolutely adorable. Maggie stood in the door admiring her girlfriend quietly. She could see Alex scrunching her nose in concentration as she added vegetables into a simmering pan. That's when it hit Maggie, "She's making that pasta dish I showed her a few weeks ago," she thought.
She finally shut the door behind her. "Be careful not to burn the sauce, babe," she called out.
Alex had been so focused on cooking and getting everything right that she hadn't heard Maggie enter. She jumped up in surprise at the sound of her girlfriend's voice behind her. "You scared the crap out of me, Sawyer!"
"Sorry," whispered Maggie as she came up behind Alex and slid her hands around her waist. She pressed a kiss to her neck. "Hi," she breathed.
"Hi." Alex leaned back into her girlfriend's warm embrace. "How was work?"
"Loooong," whined Maggie, "but thinking of you helped me get through it."
Alex let out a small chuckle and turned around to face Maggie. She pressed a kiss to her lips. Maggie smiled into the kiss and subtly reached behind Alex to turn off the stove. Alex had become so preoccupied with her girlfriend's soft lips and apparently forgot she had been cooking. Maggie pulled away and rested her forehead against Alex’s. “You’re cooking,” she whispered.
“Oh yeah. Well you had a long day and I wanted to do something nice and surprise you. And I mean you’re always cooking for us and I wanted to cook for you for once. Though, I’m obviously not very good at it,” Alex gestured wildly to the mess she’d made in the kitchen, “but maybe it won’t be that bad and I hope I didn’t mess up too much and…”
Maggie cut off Alex’s nervous rambling with a kiss. “Babe, relax. It’s really sweet of you, but you didn’t have to do anything for me, you know?”
“I know, but I wanted to,” Alex smiled shyly. “I should be done in about ten minutes, so how about you get a beer and relax while I finish up here?”
“Sounds good.” Maggie went over to the fridge and got out two beers for her and Alex. She sat on the counter, sipping her beer and watching her girlfriend work. “She’s too beautiful for her own good,” she thought.
“So how come you got home so early today?” wondered Maggie.
“J’onn said I deserved a day off. And he also mentioned something about you needing some pampering.” Alex put down two plates and sat down next to Maggie.
“Well I’m gonna have to thank him for that, because, damn Alex, this looks and smells amazing!”
They ate in relative silence, with only Maggie’s comments on how good the food was filling the air. “I’m impressed, Danvers. Maybe I should make you cook more often,” said Maggie once they finished eating and were finishing up their beers.
“Well I’m really glad you enjoyed it. And I’m pretty surprised myself. I guess your cooking skills are rubbing off on me.”
“I guess so,” laughed Maggie. “Now how about we end this lovely night with a cheesy movie? Go pick something out and I’ll clean up here.”
“You in the mood for anything in particular?”, asked Alex and she browsed through the movie selection on Netflix.
“Nah, whatever you want will do,” said Maggie as made her way to the couch and sat down next to her girlfriend.
“Ok then. “The Proposal” it is!” Maggie laughed at Alex’s movie choice. She would have never pegged Alex as a fan of silly rom-coms. Or as someone with a crush on Sandra Bullock for that matter. As Alex started the movie, Maggie pulled a blanket over the two of them. They settled comfortably next to each other, Maggie resting her head on Alex’s shoulder.
Halfway through the movie, Alex noticed that her girlfriend was slowly falling asleep. She picked up her favorite, and now Maggie’s favorite, blue pillow off the floor and put it in her lap. Maggie immediately rested her head on it and began snoring slightly. Alex smiled at how adorable she looked. A few minutes later, Alex’s eyes started closing and she fell asleep with thoughts of how in love she was occupying her mind.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you enjoyed this little thing! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated. You can find me on tumblr @alexdxmnvers |
a8fe321259ab44278f5d9fb174d555fd | ['d1982b0282ec40dca4a7407d757d7471'] | She did. She was surprised to see that they were in a part of the library she didn't recognise. Carmilla was standing in front of her, hands running soothingly up and down Laura's arms.
"Where are we?"
Even to her own ears, her voice sounded small and pathetic.
Carmilla shrugged, keeping her hands moving. "A little way away. Thirty minutes, maybe? You spaced out on me a little there. Are you... are you okay?"
It was Laura's turn to shrug, ducking her head so that a curtain of hair hid her face. She tried not to look at Carmilla's gentle eyes. She had been reminded that she did not deserve such gentleness. "Does it matter? Laf's right, I should have-"
The breath was knocked out of her suddenly by a crushing hug, Carmilla's arms wrapping tight around her. After a moment of hesitation, Laura reciprocated, albeit a little more gingerly. Carmilla seemed to gather herself before she spoke.
"Forget about them," she said. "They're wrong. You've been trying so hard, for so long... I think it's time you got a little break, don't you?"
Her voice was teasing by the end, and Laura couldn't help but smile into her shoulder, breathing deeply as if to memorise the way Carmilla smelled, even after so many days trapped in a library . The greyness was receding from her mind, melted away by the warmth of the girl holding her. It had often mystified her, the way Carmilla seemed so warm, hot even, despite having no heartbeat to speak of. When she had asked, Carmilla had just wiggled her eyebrows and answered _do you spend a lot of time thinking about how hot I am?_ Which had led to not much talking being done for quite a while. Even when she was annoying as hell, Laura couldn't resist her.
Although Carmilla seemed content to just stand there and stroke Laura's back for the foreseeable future, Laura slowly disentangled herself. She pressed a kiss to Carmilla's cheek, before turning away to look around.
"Why did we stop here, anyway?" She asked, spinning slowly on the spot to try and take in their surroundings.
There was a sign labelling what section of the shelves they were in, but it had worn away to almost nothing, leaving only the suggestion of the word _cthonic_ , which in Laura's experience never boded well. The wall on their right was made of a dark stone, and a faded poster reminded them cheerfully that Silas Library was to remain a "Cannibalism Free Zone!". As Laura looked around, she could hear Carmilla walk over to the wall and resume her natural slumped position.
"Seemed as good a place as any," Carmilla said. "Besides, there's something of an intriguing door over there; I know what a fan you are of intriguing doors..."
Laura grimaced. Open a door in the Robespierre Building that lead to an alternate, seemingly meringue-based universe _one time_ , and nobody ever lets you forget about it...
Although, the door Carmilla had pointed out around fifty yards ahead of them did look like the better class of intriguing door. It was unassuming enough, but there was a plaque next to it that Laura was itching to read, and a soft blue light seemed to be emanating through the keyhole from under the door itself.
Looking over her shoulder to grin at Carmilla, Laura walked towards it.
It really said something about the university, Laura decided, that she was surprised that she could reach the door at all. Space didn't magically extend before her, she didn't find herself shrinking, and when she traced her fingers over the warm wood, nothing burst into flames.
So far, so good.
Carmilla sauntered up behind her, resting her chin on Laura's shoulder.
"Qo'riqxona." She said
"Bless you."
Laura could practically _feel_ Carmilla roll her eyes.
It's on the plaque, smartass." Carmilla said, pinching Laura's hip.
"Huh. Any idea what it means?"
"Do you just assume that I'm fluent in every language we come across?"
"Well, you usually kinda are..."
"So you take advantage of your defenceless genius of a girlfriend. Despicable. And people think you're the cute one!"
Laura bit the inside of her cheek, and turned around to face Carmilla.
"Do you know what it means or not, Oh genius girlfriend?"
Carmilla arched an eyebrow and looked down her nose haughtily, still so clearly a countess after all this time. Laura could easily imagine her sat in a drawing room, ordering servants about and wearing fine silk gowns with big poofy skirts. Although a leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans suited her pretty well, too.
"Well if you're going to ask nicely," said Carmilla. "I do, as a matter of fact. It's an Uzbek word."
She must have seen the blank look on Laura's face.
"Uzbekistan? No? Eh, I don't blame you. We're in luck, anyway. This particular word means "sanctuary". "
"Like the Room of Requirement?" Laura blurted out.
Carmilla smiled at her fondly. "Sure, like in your kids' books."
Laura opened her mouth to protest- she had _totally_ seen Carmilla reading them in the bath- but Carmilla was speaking again.
"Of course, it could just be a trap.. Mother was always very fond of those, as I'm sure you remember."
"This suddenly got a little less comforting."
"Keeps things interesting though, doesn't it?"
Laura fidgeted. "I... I do still kinda want to open it."
Carmilla grinned. "That's my girl."
Laura sighed. She knew, on some level, that Carmilla was encouraging her recklessness just to make sure she didn't slip back into the grey place. But the smile on Carmilla's face was infectious, and the affection in her eyes was heartbreaking. The good kind of heartbreaking, though. Laura could probably manage that kind right now.
She swallowed, and placed her hand on the door knob. It was warm to the touch. | dc48bc2c39394c3aa03c32b39e16d93f | ['d1982b0282ec40dca4a7407d757d7471'] | The kisses stopped. The hands dropped from her face. Laura's first instinct was to protest, but when she realised what she had said she remained silent instead. She felt strangely calm. It seemed so simple now that she had finally said it out loud. Of course she loved Carmilla. It was the simplest thing in the world.
Carmilla was still not kissing her. Laura opened her eyes.
The vampire looked petrified. "Don't." She croaked. "Don't.. don't say that. Not if you don't mean it."
Laura frowned, the happy fog that had occupied her brain beginning to lift. "Who says I don't mean it?"
Carmilla clenched her jaw, but when she spoke her words were soft. "You don't have to say it. Not just because I did. I don't want you to feel like-"
"Carm, I know I don't have to. I want to. I want you to know that-"
"-pressured because I know that I hurt you too, and I -"
" _Carm_."
Carmilla took a deep breath, halting the stream of words that was tumbling out of her mouth. She looked at Laura as though she was searching for reassurance, licking her lips nervously. Laura found it endearing that it was this that made her nervous, despite having had her fingers inside of her not five minutes ago.
Laura brought her hands up to Carmilla's face, stroking those sharp cheekbones gently with her thumbs. Carmilla swallowed, blinked a few times, and finally nodded her head.
"Okay."
Laura grinned. "Okay?"
The grin was returned, shyly, but quickly morphed into Carmilla's usual cocky smirk. "Yes, cupcake, okay. What, you want me to start soliloquising now?"
Laura smacked her arm lightly. "You're such an asshole!" She laughed.
"Yeah, but that's why you love me."
Laura's grin got even wider, and she wrapped her arms around Carmilla's neck, burying her face into the side of the vampire's neck as slim arms encircled her waist in return.
Laura's muffled "It's true." was almost inaudible.
Carmilla heard her, though, and held her tighter. |
e94340040342427e919c1f01470aa735 | ['d1a15cd64ca7417a9e36fd98f6d48eb3'] | The color literally drained from Paris's face as struggled to find a response. "Um yeah sure" he said after a minute.
"So has the past year been like" arianna said
"You want the long or the short version" paris asked
" Both i guess" Arianna said
"Short verison, Hell. Long version, Razelle died, the entire isle has been in civil war for the past 8 months, i lost my sanity, and alot of people i knew died" paris said
"Um yeah thats basically what happened" Ryder agreed
Rapunzel, Arianna, and frederick looked dumbfounded while Eugene had a look of "yeah been there done that"
Both boys looked at each other. "You should see the look on your faces" Ryder laughed
" so which one of you followed in your father's footsteps? " Frederick inquired jokingly stroking his grey hair away.
"Paris! best thief on the Isle" Ryder smirked
" i think i remember why Razelle used to make jokes about you being a narcissist " Paris said
"So the million dollar question" Rapunzel said "what happened to Razelle. Detailed version preferably"
" Ryder can tell you i gotta go" paris said leaving the room before anyone could stop him
"Hey wait i wasn't even there" Ryder yelled "You just had to ask the question didn't you" Ryder sighed
"What" Rapunzel asked unsure of rather to go after Paris or let him go.
"I don't know but anytime i ask anyone who was there the night she was killed, the look on their faces it just like" Ryder said
"Like what" Eugene said
"Well there were 4 people there excluding the dead one" Ryder begin " with Rosa she'll sometimes say stuff about it but never when Paris is around usually its something like "just be glad you were not there". While Razelle's best friend Ashe she just starts screaming and crying, Hadie he won't even respond, and paris he usually goes though a fit of depression which basically means drinking, putting everything off on a 16 year old" Rapunzel gave her youngest triple a dumbfounded look.
"Who killed her" Frederick asked
Ryder looked around before coolly saying " you really wanna know"
"Yes"
he sighed " That purple haired bitch, the fairy daughter of malefient, **mal"**
(Paris pov)
When Paris arrived back at auradon prep he felt sick, memories flooded his mind of that night that fateful night. He stumbled into Rosa's dorm room.
"Thank God your here" She said getting off the bed
"Hey paris" freddie said, she was wearing a black and dark green shirt and jeans and her greeny hair was tied back in space buns.
"Hey did something happen" Paris asked
" Yes something happened C.j. Is gone" Rosa said one hand was on her hip "where the hell have you been"
"Wait like playing games gone or kidnapped gone" Paris said staring into Rosa's bright blue eyes.
"Like kidnapped gone" jake said walking in and wiping the sweat his face and handed Paris a note.</p
The note said
_if you ever wanna see calista jane again look by the creek in the forest outside the school._
_But i guarantees that you won't like what you find. Oh and if you come early i'll make sure she dies._
_Yours truly mal._
7. Mad little princess.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Its a blessing
>
> Its a curse
>
> The pain i've suffered
>
> The stuff of nightmares
>
> Your naive
>
> Revenge is inevitable
>
> And your first
>
>
>
>
>
> Rosa thremaine
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So pov are in between Rosa, mal, and maybe a little uma.
>
> PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW
(Mal's pov)
Mal twisted her purple hair and with fingerless gloved hands. Ben was ranting about how C.J. Was hospitalized and in a comatose state _nothing she did of course._
Mal couldn't help but notice Uma wear a teal vest over black long sleeve and jeans with combat boot, but who followed couldn't help but sent a shiver down her spine.
She walked over and put her fishnet gloved hands on the table and pushed her ginger hair away from her face.
"Ghostgirl what do i own the pleasure" mal said sarcastically
"You know damn well why i'm here" she snapped her blue eyes flashed
Mal stood up and flapped the girl's hair in her face.
"Geez you still jealous Rosa" Evie said
" Don't deny you did it mal" Uma said
"Deny what" ben asked ( absolutely naive of what mal did)
Rosa reached in the pocket of her dark purple hoodie and pulled out a couple photos. She placed the photos on the table.
each one of the photos had mal purple shoulder length hair, purple and green biker jacket, and purple, black, and lime green tights and combat boots, ginny gothel sporting her mid length curly black hair, and red dress, jay with his long brown hair, red vest over a yellow shirt and jeans, the last one was alive for the first two photos and the last two he was dead with his head partly cut off and laying in a puddle of blood. he had auburn hair, scared look imprinted on his face and was wearing a white jacket and jeans.
(Uma pov)
The look on mal's face was absolutely priceless she looked like she was ready kill her and Rosa.
"Damn princess i forgot how cunning you were" jay smirked
"Who's the dead kid in the photo" ben asked
"My brother" Rosa snapped slamming both hands on the table.
"Why does have to do with you" ben asked Uma
" he was my boyfriend, closest ally" Uma said " and like my hair mal just had to ruin it"
"Wait you said you NEVER killed anyone" ben said unsure of rather to trust mal or her.
" Their lying the photos are fake" mal said in almost a panic state | 88cc5962e4d442ce83d52691ed4a8129 | ['d1a15cd64ca7417a9e36fd98f6d48eb3'] | Aura smirked and turned to Crimson who watched with horror as her niece's throat was tored out. "Guards execute her" Aura said, flicking her talon at Crimson. "No!!" skyler screamed. The guards enclosed on Crimson, one guard pierced Crimson's heart with a spear, "Crimson" Persian yelled, he held her Talons and his, the blood gushed out of the wound leaving a puddle of crimson liquid on the balconies floor. "Your a monster" Skyler choked, tears were running down her snout "your right i'am a monster" Aura smiled, she turned to her sisters " you three have 5 seconds to get flying" "How dare you" Razelle snarled "we have a right to the throne too". Robin took off into the sky, she knew very well that if she stayed she would be killed, she flew east towards the kingdom of the sea.
Skyler leaped at Aura, slamming her onto the ground "sunset" Aura yelped at a half purple half orange dragonet, who shoved Skyler off Aura, skyler shrieked at being burned by sunsets's firescales. "This isn't the last time you'll see me" Skyler snarled, flying northwest towards the ice kingdom.
Razelle growled as the guards who enclosed on her, "back off" she snapped, Razelle observed the guards who had encircled her. The smartest choice was to escape and let Aura be queen, "i'll be back" Razelle said bitterly flying into the clouds.
Rosa watched everything from a far. Aura queen? Razelle would never except it. "Cinnamon leave" Aura snarled at her younger sister. "But where!!?" Cinnamon squeaked helplessly. " she's only a dragonet" king cloud said, wrapping his wings around his youngest daughter, "not happening" Aura said "she leaves or she dies". "I'll take her to the rainforest" Rosa said, flying down, landing beside Perish. "Suit yourself" Aura said boredly "get going then" Aura walked back into the palace. "Don't die" Perish whispered to Rosa. "I can't promise it, but i'll try" she said, she grabbed Cinnamon and started flying south .
_**thanks to Sunsettheskywing for letting me use Sunset.** _
2. Chapter 2 (1 week later)
Smoke flew past the outpost that marked the border with the kingdom of sand, his scales were a more tawny color with gray eyes. When he finally got to the skywing palace he landed in the arena, he noticed some guards shuffling uneasily when he landed. _something happened_ he thought. Walking into the palace he noticed Eagle, Falcon, and Rider walking though the halls having whispered conversation. "Ok what happened" Smoke growled at his three younger brothers, "nothing" Eagle blurted, immediately getting whacked in the head by Falcon, " ask Perish" Rider said darting out of the hallway followed by Eagle and Falcon. Smoke groaned, he really didn't want to ask Perish about anything. _great, talking to my annoying younger brother again.Perish's room was near the dungeons, a tapestry was used as a door. Smoke pushed the tapestry aside to find Perish reading a scroll , he looked up when Smoke entered, "ok what happened" Smoke said bitterly,_ he glanced at Perish who's expression was inbetween shock, annoyance, and confusion. "You have to promise not to kill me" Perish said measuredly, the scroll he was reading had been thrown aside into a pile of scrolls in the corner. "Fine! Just tell me already" Smoke hissed, _three moons stop being cryptic tell me Already._ "Mother's dead" Perish blurted, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling as if he were looking for a rainwing. "YOU SAID WHAT!!" Smoke yelled, slamming Perish into the ground "gia better be queen" Smoke snapped . perish coughed sheepishly "um" "what" Smoke growled, "Gia's dead" Perish said, staring at the ground. "WHAT!!" smoke yelled, flinging Perish into a wall, Perish stumbled up and Smoke lunged at him, Perish used a spear and pinned Smoke to a wall. "I thought you said you weren't going to try to kill me" Perish said, Smoke rolled his eyes at Perish "WELL I DIDN'T KNOW GIA WAS DEAD!" He yelled, " what happened? "
Razelle landed in the rainwing village, some rainwings stared at the red skywing with smoke descending from her scales. The rainwing queen sat on her throne addressing a green and pink rainwing, the queen's midnight blue wings were beautiful in the sun. "You must be Queen Inferno" Razelle said, "why yes" the rainwing queen said "and who may you be?" _you seriously don't know you i'am "_ princess Razelle' Razelle said saucily "queen Topaz's daughter" Inferno barked a laugh "yes i remember her bragging about you" Inferno laughed "so why are you here?" " a alliance with the your tribes" Razelle responded, she puffed some smoke out of snout. "What would we get?" Inferno asked " anything! " Razelle said "I doubt that" Inferno said pessimisticly "What do you want" Razelle said in annoyance, she had to admit this queen was annoying. Inferno leaned off her throne and whispered something into Razelle's ear, Razelle flinched _why that?_ "do we have a deal? " Inferno asked "I believe" Razelle hesitated "we do" she finished |
ef27d527ba6c4789bdebf31c942df8d7 | ['d1a3dcc272cb4472a62ee42f61e86c32'] | He sucked Yuuri’s labia until he was wailing, sobbing, begging, for more stimulation, at which point he moved to his clit, swirling his tongue in circles until the omega came, entire body arching off the bed, the muscles of his thighs clenching. While Yuuri was still relaxed he would press two fingers into him, work his way up until Yuuri was stretched enough to take his cock, to take his knot. He would fuck into him gently, slowly, never taking him from behind, like some kind of animal, instead staring down at his reddened face as he thrusted, pressing kisses to his pudgy cheeks and plump, bruised lips. After he knotted he would roll them to their sides, nuzzle the omega until he came back to himself, massage Yuuri’s hips and lower back, whisper sweet words into his hair.
They would cuddle, and Victor would get them some food once the knot died down, and they would eat and talk and nap until the next wave hit, and then they would repeat the cycle.
* * *
Two weeks after his heat, Victor had yet to take him on a date. Yuuri knew he was busy, but he was starting to worry that maybe Victor hadn’t _ meant _ what he’d said, about wanting to court him, that it had just been something blurted in the heat of the moment, and that Victor didn’t _ really _ want him, shared his heat with him out of absolute pity.
Yuuri tugged his blue cotton sweater over his head, the pale color of the scratchy material enhancing the color of his skin. He smoothed the front of it over before grabbing his jeans and tugging them on, having some trouble with the button. He was going grocery shopping, so there wasn’t a reason to get dolled up. He bit his lip, still swollen and bruised from kissing, and tucked his hair behind his ears. He ruffled his bangs and grabbed his coat, an old, ratty, tan thing he’d gotten for four dollars at a discount store, and pulled it on, securing his scarf and grabbing his phone. He grabbed his wallet, one of Victor’s credit cards inside, and headed for the door.
Makkachin trotted behind him, whining, curly fur matted around his feet, the fluff around his mouth a darker shade of brown. Yuuri sighed and grabbed his keys. Whatever the large puppy had done would have to be dealt with after he went shopping. They were out of red meat, and that’s what he wanted, what his body was telling him he needed to eat after the past week’s activities. The poodle whining behind him needed food, too, so there was that as well.
“I’ll be back soon, Makka. Be a good boy, okay?” He crouched down and ruffled his dirty ears. “Stinky pup, aren’t ya?” He kissed his the top of his snout, the clean part, before standing and slipping his shoes on. “Bye, buddy.” The dog tried to follow, whining louder, but Yuuri pushed him back inside. “Stay, Makkachin. I’ll be back soon.”
Yuuri shut and locked the door quickly behind himself before the poodle could sprint out, heading down the hall outside of the loft. He still had a lingering scent of heat, would for the next day or so, so he made sure to bundle up. He shuffled towards the elevators and got into the first open one. Victor lived on the top floor of a twenty-five story building, owned the entire floor for himself.
He made it to the twentieth floor before the machine stopped, dinging, another person filing on. Yuuri had never seen the man before, but he _ reeked _ of alpha. A spark of fear rolled up his spine, so he scooted towards the far end of the elevator, pressing his face into his scarf. He fiddled with his hands, eyes on the shining black tiles beneath his feet.
“Mm… And who might you be?” Yuuri tensed, the scent of alcohol hitting him suddenly. The alpha was much closer than he had been.
“Um, I’m Y-Yuuri…” He murmured, toes curling anxiously in his shoes. Had the elevator stopped? It felt like they weren’t moving-
“Yuuri? That’s a pretty name, sweetheart. You smell real nice, little omega. What do you say you blow off that rich playboy you’re fucking around with and come hang out with me?” He wrapped a hand around Yuuri’s chubby upper arm, the other on the elevator wall beside hi head. The omega’s breath hitched fearfully.
“N-No thank you…” He whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, trying to jerk his arm from the man’s disgusting grasp.
“Awe, come on.” He growled, grip tightening. “I’d love to have you sucking my cock, you know? I’m sure you’re willing to do it for that damn Nikiforov bastard, so why not me? I have just as much money as he does.” Yuuri gave a little whine, pushing at him.
“N-No please, st-stop i-it-” He choked on a sob. “St-Stop it.” He grit his teeth as the alpha got closer, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please, j-just stop!” Tears leaked from his eyes, spilling down his reddened cheeks. The alpha ignored him and pressed closer still, hot, smelly breath against the omega’s neck, deep blue scarf yanked out of the way, hard-on digging into Yuuri’s thigh, grinding into the flesh.
Yuuri sobbed harder, continuing to push and shove at the alpha, continued begging him to stop, _ please, I don’t like it, please, please stop, please- _
“What the _ hell _ is going on?!” Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, blurred with fat tears, darting towards the open elevator doors. Victor stood between them- when had they opened? Yuuri hadn’t even heard the ding- a sharp look in his eyes, the scent of rage filling the air around them. The no-name alpha had his large grubby hands up Yuuri’s shirt, bite marks across the omega’s collarbones. His coat had been ripped open, his bra unsnapped. | 79752c01c7b74619869546a8c55f1f4b | ['d1a3dcc272cb4472a62ee42f61e86c32'] |
24
**Author's Note:**
> i love iidayama and i never see any of it so! i made my own!
The sheets are scratchy against his back, the cream-colored, faux silk bunched tightly in his hands, and the duvet - big and fluffy and hanging loosely over Tenya’s hips - tickles his thighs each time Tenya rocks forward into him. He’s gasping, sharp and sweet, because he’s never really been very loud during intimate moments, but Tenya’s guttural moans more than make up for Yuuga’s lack of noise.
The slow drag of Tenya’s cock, heavy and thick in his ass, burns, but it’s good regardless, and Yuuga wants to beg him to go faster, harder, but he just can’t manage to get the words out of his mouth. He’s drooling, and he knows his eyes are getting red from all his crying. He’s unsightly like this, he’s absolutely certain, and it’s times like this that he can’t fathom how Tenya - perfect, buff, gorgeous Tenya, with flexing muscles and glistening abs - could ever even _ want _ to face him while he fucks him. But he does, even seems to prefer it, and it makes Yuuga’s chest swell up with emotions he doesn’t have names for.
Precum drips sticky pearls onto his belly.
Yuuga’s toes curl when Tenya shifts and angles himself to brush against his prostate, and he arches with a choked sob that’s punched out of him much too quickly for him to swallow back down.
“Was that it?” Tenya murmurs, voice gentle, pressing adoring, open-mouthed kisses against Yuuga’s flushed chest. He always whispers when they’re like this, and Yuuga thinks it’s probably because the lights, save for maybe a lamp, are usually off, and darkness just makes Tenya feel like he can’t speak too loudly.
Yuuga nods jerkily, bangs unstyled and damp and hanging in his face. _ “O-Oui, oui, _ oh f-fuck, fuck-” he hiccups, curling forward. He nearly wails out, but manages to catch himself. He grits his teeth together, trying his hardest to keep his mouth _ shut _ because he’s so _ loud _ all the time and he’s so annoying and the least he can do is shut his fucking trap for fifteen minutes and let _ Tenya _ feel good and not be his normal, selfish self.
But he can’t stop the whines, the gasps, the hiccups that force their way through his lips, can’t help the way his chest heaves with more than just pleasure. He can’t help the way he wants to wrap his arms around Tenya’s broad shoulders, can’t help the way he want to pull him close and kiss him and tell him he loves him. He wishes he knew whether or not Tenya was telling him the truth when he told him he was beautiful and that he loved him with his whole heart. It isn’t anything that matters right now, but Yuuga can’t help the way his lower belly aches, and how the tears dripping off his lashes aren’t just from near overstimulating pleasure.
Yuuga’s legs twitch in their place, knees hooked over Tenya’s forearms, as Tenya moves closer, his own knees pressed against the outside of Yuuga’s hips. He’s so close, their bodies practically molded together, and Yuuga feels torn in two in the best of ways.
“You feel very good, Yuuga. I love you so much,” he groans, mouthing roughly at Yuuga’s pink neck. The ring around Yuuga’s finger suddenly feels heavy, and he sobs out pitifully as he cums all over his own lower belly. Tenya slows down, conscious of the way Yuuga gets easily overstimulated.
Yuuga’s chest hurts, and the tears won’t stop, because this isn’t the afterglow he wanted - even though he feels great, limbs like jelly, his heart still _ hurts _ \- and it makes him feel like he’s going to puke. He brings his arms up to cover his face, stomach muscles clenching and spasming. Tenya starts up again, unaware of the sickness Yuuga feels in his gut. The larger man brings one hand up to cup Yuuga’s chest, squeezes lovingly and massages his thumb over his pert nipple, and Yuuga’s already getting hard again even though his sobs are escalating. He feels Tenya stutter and still as he cums, groaning, feels the warmth fill him up, and all of a sudden he’s wailing, and it’s so, so hard to breathe.
He’s gasping and heaving, so loud and intense that he can’t hear Tenya speaking, can’t feel his large, calloused hands carefully grasping his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. It takes a few minutes for the sobbing to stop, and when Yuuga comes back to himself it’s to Tenya’s warm red eyes, his brows furrowed in concern. His hair is stuck to his forehead and just the sight makes him smile through his tears, because Tenya looks so young and boyish like this and it just fills Yuuga up with even more love. He brushes his trembling fingers through the dark strands, and Tenya leans into the touch without hesitation.
“Yuuga? What happened? Are you alright? Have I hurt you?” Yuuga hiccups, shakes his head, because Tenya has done _ nothing _ wrong, has made Yuuga feel like the most special person on earth, and it’s Yuuga’s own anxiety that makes being loved so difficult.
“I’m f-fine, _ mon cher _ , do not worry,” he murmurs, voice wobbling. “I am just… it’s so silly, Tenya.” He whispers, bringing Tenya closer. He presses their foreheads together, his eyes drifting shut. Tenya shifts out of him and it makes Yuuga wince and clench around nothing. They roll onto their sides and Tenya pulls the duvet over them both, silent and ready to listen to whatever it is that Yuuga needs to tell him.
“Is it acting up again?” Yuuga almost doesn’t hear the question, but thankfully he does, and it makes him tear up, warmth blooming in his chest. He nods and nudges his nose against Tenya’s.
_ “Oui. _ I’m sorry I ruined our evening…”
“You have ruined nothing, Yuuga!” Tenya declares, voice soft but determined, so it booms through the quiet room despite the low volume. “We should clean up and get some rest! This is a topic better discussed during the day! Tomorrow we will be able to speak to your therapist and-” Yuuga laughs, light and airy, snuggling closer to his husband.
“Five more minutes, _ cher? _ _ S'il vous plaît." _ Tenya makes a face, which makes Yuuga laugh louder, harder, before relenting with a fond, exhausted sigh. He relaxes against the pillows and wraps his arms around Yuuga, pulls him close to his chest. He places a kiss to his golden curls, nosing against them afterwards.
“I suppose five more minutes is acceptable.”
**Author's Note:**
> I know it's super quick, but it's 3:30 in the morning, and it's similar to another thing I'm planing to write anyway so it doesn't matter a whole lot lol |
fc29a6a9f7db492e80d936bbab3eba37 | ['d1a40debc9464681863ef863183a91ec'] | Tony had calmed down enough for them to sit on a few the stools in the lab. He was still sniffling as he rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. Bruce just sat quietly beside him, he didn’t speak so Tony would be more comfortable initiating a conversation between them. After a minute Tony did.
“Thanks Bruce, I, I’m sorry you had to see me like that” Tony said embarrassed and he wiped his hand on his shirt.
“Rough day?” Bruce asked with a comforting smile.
“Yeah” Tony replied quietly, looking down on the floor.
“Care to share?” Bruce asked encouragingly.
Tony sighed heavily. He didn’t speak for a minute. “I, I saw something I shouldn’t have seen” Tony said taking a deep breath.” I saw him and Peggy kissing in the student council room, I just walked in on them and I didn’t know what happened but I ran. I think Steve was calling out to me but I just ran faster then I came here and hid then-“
“Breathe Tony” Bruce told him placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tony took another deep breath.
“Tell me, why do you think you ran?” Bruce asked calmly.
Tony thought”I, don’t know. I could’ve done things differently like tell him he’s a man now or whatever but-” Tony said slowly.
Why did he run? Tony thought back to what happened. He saw his best friend/crush kissing someone. He felt surprised then he felt betrayed then sad then as he saw Steve looking at him; fear.
“I felt like I was hit with a bullet train going 300 miles an hour.” Tony said deflating. “I-“
“You have feelings for Steve other than the platonic best friend relationship right?” Bruce said calmly.
“I, Yeah, I do. Growing up, Steve and I were always together. In the beginning it was about friendship but as time passed, things escalated from there. Even if Steve was still sickly and small, I would’ve still felt this way. I fell in love with him, not his body” Tony said as a sad smile formed on his lips.
“So you love him?” Bruce stated rather than asked.
Tony looked at Bruce in surprise.
He loved Steve? Tony had feelings for Steve but he didn’t think of saying that he loved Steve. Steve was his best friend; he was always supportive, kind and caring to everyone but especially for Tony. He looked out for him, took care of him, listened to him and made him smile when he felt like the world was ending. He smiled at that thought.
“I, love, Steve? I guess I do love him” Tony said with small smile. “But, Steve doesn’t love me.” Tony said defeated as he felt his eyes starting to water again.
“Tony” Bruce placed a gentle hand on his back and began rubbing soothing circles there.
“The way of the world I guess” Tony said trying to be cheery but he ended up sounding broken.
“What are you going to do now?” Bruce calmly asked him.
“I, I need to think Bruce. I need to think of what to do from here. Things will be different with me and Steve from here on in but he’s still my best friend. I just have to deal with this on my own for now.” Tony said getting up from the stool. Bruce joined him as they walked to the door.
“You don’t have to deal with this on your own Tony, Science Bros right?” Bruce said raising a fist. “Yeah, Science Bros!” Tony said bumping his fist with Bruce’s.
Tony halted, Bruce looked at him concerned.” Steve’s still looking for me and my car is in the lot” Tony said deflating. Bruce thought and offered to distract Steve so Tony could get away.
“You’d do that?” Tony asked disbelievingly. “Science bros,right? I’m gonna look for him and then I’ll send you a txt when I find him” Bruce said with a smile.
“Thanks a lot Bruce, I promise to help with whatever project you’re working on” Tony said encouragingly. Bruce just gave him a smile as he left the room.
Tony stood there for a few minutes until his phone buzzed. He looked at his messages, Steve left a few and even tried to call him but he didn’t want to look at the right then but he did see Bruce’s message. “Go”
Tony smiled at that and hurried off to the parking lot hoping in some way he could forget about today.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I know this feels a little unstructured but it went along great for me. Kudos and Comments are appreciated and if you happen to think somethings amiss please don't hesitate to say it.
>
> I just noticed I didn't describe the characters in terms of appearance. I'll add a chapter for Bios and focus on describing future characters :) Thanks so much for reading :D
4. Bios
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bio's of characters already written.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> As promised I wrote Bios. It's a mix of Comic verse, Movie verse and my own AU style.
**Anthony ”Tony” Stark** : Young Billionaire (heir at least), playboy philanthropist and overall engineering genius. He is the only child of Maria and Howard Stark well known for their work on philanthropy and engineering.
He’s about 5’7 in height, medium build, dark brown hair and has chocolate brown eyes. He is also sporting a mustache-beard-goatee combo, much to the disapproval of Steve. He is Steve’s best friend having grown up together and eventually Tony began developing feelings for Steve.
Tony has a definite appreciation for all things related to engineering and caffeine. At times working late nights on projects while only drinking caffeine wherein Steve would haul him out of his workshop to eat something solid. He often speaks in rambles at time jumping from topic to topic in a conversation. | 155728020e124c5dbda48a74a8d3e1e2 | ['d1a40debc9464681863ef863183a91ec'] | Bunny couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jack had gotten good with his powers and the way he was using them now was breathtaking. He was even stunned as Jack was adorned with a beautifully stunning gown that made Jack look amazing. He was so enamored with the way Jack looked he almost came out of his hiding spot but as the song died down and Jack came back inside he quickly hid again, slowly inching his way to the door. He was praying that he make it out of there as fast as he could but he’d have to do it quietly. He saw Jack stand in front of the mirror again and happily pose, showing of a high slit on the gown. Now he really needed to get out of there.
He had an idea, he took out one of his boomerangs and aimed for one of the instruments where he could grab the boomerang quickly. He took aim then sent it flying, sending an ice violin crashing on the floor, the boomerang returning as fast as soon as he threw it. Jack was startled as he rushed to where the violin fell, giving him enough time to make it out of there without Jack noticing him.
He dashed quickly but quietly until he could open a portal back to the warren. As he exited the castle he tapped on the ground and sped off to the warren; a fond smile was on his lips as he thought”Damn! Ah’ gotta see ‘im do that again”. He was also hoping he wasn’t spotted though.
2. Secrets Revealed
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bunny wants to see Jack dressed up again but things don't go so well.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Next chapter up. This one was inspired by the Cinderella 2015. I'm weird I know.
Bunny was on edge, he saw Jack in a different light and he couldn’t get it out of his head. The way his body looked in the form fitting gown, the thigh high slit and the way he moved in the gown made him replay the memory on repeat.
Now whenever he saw Jack he’d imagine him in the gown he wore before, at times even spacing out in front of the winter sprite.
It’s been a week and Bunny couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to see Jack in that get up again and he was gonna do it the next day.
\--------------------------------------------------------------
Jack finished his rounds bringing snow and frost to the different places that could use some fun and snow. Making a final stop at Burgess to meet up with Jamie and his friends, he was off to his castle.
Jack had acquired his tastes for women’s fashion when Jamie and Sophie asked him to watch a movie that he was going to relate to. Sophie loved the movie and so did the world. It was the story of a curse and the meaning of true love and all that stuff that was the staples of fairy tales.
He sat through it and he was amazed at what he saw. He related with the character of Queen Elsa the most. He was at a time scared of his powers, he wanted to be alone until he felt like he belonged and that’s what he felt with the other guardians and the kids that believed in him.
Sophie was ecstatic and asked Jack to try what the Queen could do, even dress like her but he was surprised that he liked the feeling it gave him when he dressed in the gown he made. He only did it with Sophie though but Cupcake was there too at times. He didn’t know he could make clothes. He made the dress with his magic and it turned out great. He also made gowns for the girls when they were together.
Soon enough they even started using makeup on him. Though there were times they froze when the products touched his skin but when he applied it on himself, it didn’t freeze as much. He refused the wig though and just sprinkled crystallized snowflakes in his hair. That’s where it started.
\------------------------------------------------------------
Bunny waited patiently getting enough preparations for the upcoming spring done so it wouldn’t be seen as if he was waiting for something but it was progress for Easter nonetheless.
Soon enough the magic item started to glow signaling Jack was on the move. He tapped his foot on the ground and there opened a portal that he created to go directly to Jack’s Ice castle.
He made his way in record time, the entrance of the portal closing as he hopped out of the hole. He made sure to be a ways apart so he wasn’t spotted. He quietly made his way inside Jack’s castle. Finding the spot he hid behind before as he waited for Jack to arrive.
Jack arrived at his castle after a long day. He went up the staircase and into his room. He breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed behind him. Just like before, he conjured the orchestra of instruments and concentrating fully he imbued them with magic. They came to life again, the room filling with the sounds of the instruments tuning themselves.
He smiled as he took off his clothes, only leaving behind a pair of cotton shorts covering his pale body.
He waved his hands and the music started to play. Jack had been roped into watching another princess movie with Jamie and Sophie. The new Cinderella movie was a must watch for the entire world and Sophie even asked Jack to help her make a gown just like in the movie. He was amazed by what he could do now and Sophie loved the gown and Jack even threw in a pair of non-melting crystal ice shoes, which sealed in Sophie’s happiness for weeks to come. |
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