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1afa58943aa64ecba92c6b9b65a79416 | ['d1c63392a23b4771b692cfc15c53bac2'] |
Big Brother Instinct
**Author's Note:**
> This was a birthday gift for my lovely C4ke! They love Dabi and Toga, especially in the Hero AU, so I wrote this for them.
>
> In this fic, Dabi is Touya Todoroki, but goes by his hero name, Dabi. Toga is a stealth hero in the General Studies first year class. Dabi and Shigaraki are both third years and student mentors to the first years.
>
> Also, Dabi and Toga are both autistic!
>
> Posted with permission!!
Dabi stretched his aching limbs, and glared at the clock on the wall of the study room. It was almost 2 in the morning, but he was too restless to head back to his dorm room. So much had happened that week, from exams to the Villain attack on the first year class. IT had only been a few hours since they'd been released, most returning to the dorms, but a couple had gone directly home, too shaken to stay at UA for the weekend. Dabi had meant to check in with a few of his mentees, but figured that the teachers were taking care of them better than he could.
He put his books aside and stood up to stretch better, stifling a yawn. Dabi made a mental note to look into doing yoga again, missing the way is made his limbs less stiff. He barely turned around as he heard footsteps enter the main room, then towards the study room he was in. The door opened, and he heard a familiar laugh.
"Touya, still up studying?" Tenko Shimura leaned against the doorway, arms folded across his chest. His smile and light tone did nothing to cover the tense set of his shoulders and deep bags under his eyes. Dabi sighed and faced him directly.
"What, Shigaraki?," he asked, using his hero name instead of the too-familiar first name. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
Shigaraki chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I could say the same to you. How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine."
"I'm gonna start charging you money everytime you say that. You say it too much."
Dabi rolled his eyes. "I know you wouldn't come bother me unless it was important. What do you want?"
"I ran into Aizawa in the hallway earlier. The first years are all accounted for and getting the support they need."
"And?" Dabi asked, impatiently. He despised when people didn't get to the point.
"Your kouhai, Himiko Toga? She isn't talking to any of the counselors or teachers." Shigaraki pretended not to hear Dabi's frustrated groan. "Aizawa suggested I come find you to see if you could get through to her."
Dabi pushed his red hair out of his eyes and sighed. "She is very stubborn."
"Apparently she was telling Aizawa that she was fine. I wonder where she gets that from," Shigaraki said, shooting a sly glance at Dabi who responded by glaring at the floor.
"Is she fine?"
"You know she isn't."
The two were silent, Shigaraki's harsh tone hanging in the air. He shot Dabi and apologetic look before turning back to the hallway.
"I think you should go talk to her. You know her better than anyone, and I'm sure she needs someone to talk to after today's events." Then he was gone, leaving Dabi to stew in his thoughts.
\----
It took Dabi 5 minutes to decide to go to Toga. Well, it took about 3 seconds for him to make up his mind, and the rest of the time to pack up his bag and pace around the study room to decide what he was going to say to his kouhai. It wasn't that he was nervous to talk to her, quite the opposite actually. Toga was possibly one of the only people in the world Dabi didn't mind talking to. His coldness and refusal of eye contact was usually a turn off to most people, but not to Toga. She didn't mind his flat tone or strange behaviors, because she had similar ones. When Dabi had been volunteered into the mentor program, he took one look at Toga, saw her being excluded from most of her class for her odd quirks and behaviors, and decided she needed someone on her side, the way he did when he'd been her age.
Dabi walked down the connected skywalks to the first year dorms, nodding to Aizawa and another first year, Shinso Hitoshi, as he passed them. He recognized Shinso from the same class Toga was in. According to Toga, he was one of the few people in her class that treated her normally, and she considered them to be good friends. Dabi often saw the two debating pro-heroes in the cafeteria at lunch, or the two sparring on the grounds during the evenings. He was glad his kouhai had a friend in her class, especially one with such a powerful quirk. Dabi figured the two had bonded over quirks that seemed to be more villainous than heroic. He almost smiled, remembering the sports festival, where Shinso and Toga had been heralded the Heroes of the General Department for making it further than anyone else in their class. He and Shigaraki had cheered the duo on, having destructive quirks themselves. It had helped Dabi pick out which first year he had wanted to mentor.
Caught up in his memories, he found himself standing in front of Toga's door much sooner than he expected. Dabi steeled himself for a brief second before raising his hand to knock. He heard a quiet "go away" from inside and frowned. That shaky voice didn't sound at all like his kouhai. Toga had a loud, cheerful voice. Sometimes it was irritating, especially when he was overwhelmed, but Dabi would rather hear it now than the too-soft voice coming from her room now. He knocked again. | 1f60870f694543df96ed4d7f6669ab3b | ['d1c63392a23b4771b692cfc15c53bac2'] | The cloud cover had finally broken and a single beam of moonlight had hit Liu, still leaning most of his weight on the tree as he laughed. Toby cracked his neck, but continued to stare. He'd never really noticed how cute Liu was when he laughed, the usually serious man's face filled with joy. His eyes were all crinkly and Toby briefly wondered if the scars on his face pulled like his own did-
Wait.
Did he just think Liu was cute?
Toby yipped nervously and forced himself to look away, face flushing. He never really let himself think about that kind of thing, especially with Liu. The truth was, Toby usually felt butterflies anytime he looked at Liu, but usually squashed those feelings down. They really couldn't have feelings like that in this line of work. But sometimes, on quiet nights, Toby could let himself pretend there was a chance.
But not tonight.
Toby barked and knocked three times. Liu looked up at him. "S-Sorry. I just-" Liu wheezed "-The situation is just... ridiculous."
"No yeah, I definitely get what you mean." Toby let out a chuckle, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest as Liu smiled at him. Toby clapped three times and shuddered. "D'you want to eat?"
"I mean we have to eventually. Eat the evidence!" They both laughed.
The duo find a log by the river and sit down and begin to sort through their treasures. Liu managed to grab two cans of iced tea, and Toby had grabbed a large bag of chips. They split the chips and the four sandwiches they each had grabbed. Liu handed Toby one of the teas, and Toby tried to ignore the rush of lightning as their fingertips barely brushed each other.
They ate in silence, or as silent as they could get with Toby's tics. The river gurgles along and an owl is softly hooting nearby. That and the moonlight shining on them made the whole scene extremely tranquil. Toby couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this peaceful.
\----
They finish their stolen feast and sit in comfortable silence. Toby watches a turtle swim up the river and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand resting on his own. He cracks his neck and looks over at Liu, who is staring at him _so_ fondly that it makes Toby's heart jump out of his chest.
"Hey," Toby say dumbly.
Liu snorts. "Hey."
Toby looks down at their hands and yips, snapping his head to the side.
"I just wanted to say tonight was... probably the most fun I've had in a while." Liu coughs and looks away. "I mean not the-the killing parts. Although I don't mind going on missions with you. Actually you're probably the only person I actually _want_ to go on missions with-"
Liu continues rambling, and Toby feels like he's been hit with a truck.
Liu is nervous.
Liu is _nervous_ to talk to _Toby_.
He nearly laughs at how cute and absurd it feels.
Liu is still rambling but immediately shuts up when Toby takes his hand out from under Liu's own, and puts both of his hands on Liu's face, cupping his cheeks and forcing Liu to look at him.
"You, uh... You talk a lot when you're nervous." Toby says.
Liu blushes. He starts to say something when Toby interrupts him. "I didn't say I didn't like it."
It feels like the world is suddenly in slow motion, Liu's hand tangling itself in Toby's hair and Liu pulling him down to capture his lips with his own.
The kiss is soft, and tastes like sweet tea. Toby finds himself leaning into it, opening his mouth to nip at Liu's, who opens his own to allow access to Toby's tongue. Liu quickly takes control of the kiss, tongue exploring every part of Toby's mouth, and Toby is so _so_ responsive to him, groaning deep in his throat, so deep that it nearly sounds like a growl.
Unfortunately the kiss is ended prematurely with Toby having to pull away to crack his neck and bark. He's flushed and is relieved to see that Liu is just as affected when he looks back at him. Liu smiles at him just as fondly as before, and takes his hand, pressing a kiss to the gloved fingertips. Toby intertwines their fingers and they sit, grinning at each other like the besotted idiots they are.
"So are we-do you want to-" Liu clears his throat, face burning. Toby presses a kiss to his cheek, finding his nervousness adorable.
"Do you want to be together? Like together-together?"
Toby laughs and pulls him in for another kiss.
Maybe their line of work doesn't allow for that kind of thinking, but they were going to try to make it work.
**Author's Note:**
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siXzOT2-NjU
>
> ^This is what I was listening to while writing this :D <3 |
d99a93f569b9409495d961b0b1d29b2a | ['d1cf2a08af334ff683d07c39ea08d22b'] | Coach Emerson looked like had might been in the middle of speaking before Tyler had come bursting in, but now his lips were pursed together in a tight, angry line. He locked eyes with Tyler for a moment, letting out a huff of disappointment before resuming back to speaking. "Anyway, as I was saying, good work today, guys. I really believe we're gonna have another win on our hands this week, I truly do. But, we gotta bring it to 'em. Everybody in." The team nodded in agreement then shuffled closer to the middle, all putting one fist in the air. Coach counted up to three, then together the team yelled their team motto, _"CTC!"_ Which stood for _"Change The Culture,"_ something Coach Emerson really pushed for this years team. In past years the boys basketball team had been tragically lacking in both skill and drive, but this team was different. Coach was hopeful in this group of boys, and was ready to change the reputation for the team.
After breaking out the practice, team dispersed into the locker room to shower and go home, Tyler turned to leave, feeling absolutely defeated from missing the whole practice.
"Joseph!" Coach yelled, calling Tyler by just his last name, as he did with all his players, "Where do you think you're going?"
Tyler turned back to face him, "Um, home, Coach."
Coach Emerson let a bitter chuckle fall from his lips. "Home? Not without doing punishment you're not."
Tyler deadpanned. He seen other players do all sorts of exhausting exercise in punishment for missing practice or failing classes, but Tyler had never missed a practice in his life, and though his grades weren't good, his somehow always managed to drag along a steady C minus. He had never had to worry about doing punishment. Not until now at least.
"Baker!" Coach called out to the player, who had already been making his way to the locker room. "I gotta get home, My daughter's got a soccer game tonight. Joseph's got thirty-five down and backs, baseline to baseline. He doesn't leave until he does them all."
Tyler internally groaned. Andy Baker was the vice principal's son, and after Tyler, he was the team's top scorer. Though the two of them managed to be able to cooperate just enough to win games, outside of the court, he and Tyler despised each other.
Andy had piercing grey-blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. His smooth, easy charm, and dazzling smile had a way of making everyone love him. Everyone except Tyler, who saw right through his facade. Everything about him got underneath Tyler's skin.
Andy settle his eyes on Tyler's and smirked, "You got it, coach."
Tyler trudged into the locker room and threw on his practice uniform and basketball shoes. When he returned to the gym, Andy sat, leaned back in the last row of bleachers with his elbows rested up on the row behind him. His face was straight apart from the small, smug smile that tugged at one side of his mouth. Tyler groaned, quiet enough so that Andy didn't hear, and makes his way over to one side of the court. Without missing a beat, Tyler takes off sprinting. Down and back, down and back, until his legs are on fire and lungs are screaming at him.
Every now and then, through tired eyes Tyler would glance over at Andy, half expecting him to not be paying much attention, but he always was. His smug smile never leaving his face. Something in his stare made Tyler dreadfully uncomfortable. If he wasn't so tired, and drenched in sweat, the hairs on the back of his neck would have surly been standing straight up.
After what seemed like an eternity, Tyler finally finished. He stumbled across the line for the last time, then leaned over with his hands on his knees, desperately gasping and choking for air. He was convinced that at any moment he might cough his lungs right out of his mouth.
Tyler somehow eventually caught his breath. He turned ready to find Andy sitting on the bleachers, with the same stupid smirk plastered on his face, but he was gone. Tyler let out an audible sigh and dragged his worn body into the locker room.
The sound of running shower water echoed off the walls and foggy steam filled the room. Tyler debated just grabbing his things and leaving. He could always just shower at home after all. But he was so exhausted, and his muscles were aching. The only thing Tyler wanted to do when he got home was climb into bed. So Tyler picked up his gym bag, and went to the showers on the other side of the locker room, trying to put as much distance between Andy and himself as possible.
Tyler turned the shower nob over to almost the hottest setting, then undressed and stepped in. he vigorously scrubbed his hair and body. The hot water stung his skin in the process, turning areas of his skin blotchy red. He didn't mind the burn, though.
Realizing he had spent much longer in the shower than he intended, Tyler willed himself to come from underneath the comforting burn of the hot shower water spraying down on him. He knew for a fact that his mom would be angry with him if he stayed out too late. He turned off the shower, and as his wet feet stepped out onto the cold tile floor, he was suddenly aware of how eerily quiet the locker room was.
With a bright red towel tied around his skinny waist, he shuffled over to his things. He was grabbing his clothes from out of his bag when a voice startled him, nearly making him drop his towel.
"You take forever to shower, you know," the voice had said. | 4a7fb6eff41341378058a35fd5fc1938 | ['d1cf2a08af334ff683d07c39ea08d22b'] |
1. "Boys Can't Like Boys"
**Author's Note:**
> first fic on here whaddup
Six year old Tyler sat hunched forward in a chair too tall for his feet to reach the floor. With his elbows on his knees, his small hands propped up his face, smushing his cheeks. The laces of his untied sneakers dangled as he absentmindedly swung his legs.
_Back and forth._
_Back and forth._
Tyler let out a sigh as he let his eyes roam the room he knew all too well;
The principal's office.
Certificates, and other things of the sort, decorated the navy blue walls. In front of him sat a large mahogany desk. On top of it was a small lamp, various papers stacked in neat, organized piles, and a solid, dark green mug plastered with the words, ** _"Worlds Best Mom."_ **
The midday sunlight shone through the wooden blinds of the large window behind the desk. The light bathed the room in warmth, sucking all of the energy out of the small boy, who sat placid and lazy, waiting to face the the judgment of his recent crimes.
The door behind him groaned as it opened. In walked Principal Dowling, along with his mother, and suddenly, Tyler felt much more aware of his situation. He sat up in his seat and his gaze dropped to watch his hands as he played with his fingers. Principal Dowling made her way over to her big leather desk chair, and his mother took a seat in the cushioned wooden chair adjacent to his.
Mrs. Dowling push aside a stack of papers and folded her hands on top of the desk. "Mrs. Joseph, I'm assuming you already have an idea of why you've been called here today, considering that it's the 3th time this month we've had a situation like this occur."
Tyler's mother let out a frustrated puff of air. "Yes, I'm sure I do." she turned her head to him and he could feel her hard, blue eyed stare picking him apart.
Principle Dowling opened her mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again. "Actually, Tyler, why don't I let you explain to your mother what you did this time." Tyler felt his his heart fall into his stomach.
"IKissedMasonOnTheCheek," he mumbled, quietly.
" _Tyler._ " His mother said in a stern voice. She was in no mood for this.
"I–" Tyler wished for his body to melt into a puddle right there in his seat, "I kissed Mason on the cheek."
Tyler's mother closed her eyes and sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Mrs. Joseph, this is a strictly Christian academy. We have no tolerance for..." Principle Dowling paused and tried her best to hold back a cringe, "things of the sort... If this pattern of behavior continues I will have no choice but to suspend Tyler."
Tyler's mother sat up straighter in her seat. "Suspend him? He's only in the _first grade_. Don't you think that's a little ridiculous?"
"No, actually I don't," said Mrs. Dowling, "Like I said, this is a strictly Christian school. Now, I'm not sure what you're teaching him at home, but–"
Tyler mother abruptly cut Mrs. Dowling off. " _We_ aren't teaching him any of this at home. I don't know where he's getting that this is okay, but it is most definitely _not_ from home. Our family is completely, and wholly devoted to Christ."
"Well, if that's the case, then I have no doubt that you will be able to get Tyler fixed." Mrs. Dowling said.
For some reason, the word _Fixed_ , filled Tyler deep with an icy rush of dread. He wasn't even really sure what he needed to be fixed of, but the idea of it made him feel sick.
"Don't worry," his mother assured, "We will."
And that was that.
Later that day, after Tyler had gotten home from spending the rest of his day in the principals office, his mother called him into the kitchen. She was seated at the dinner table with her hands folded in her lap. "Take a seat, Tyler." She said.
Tyler shuffled over and took a seat in the one next to hers. "Yes?"
"Tyler, why on Earth would you kiss Mason on the cheek? First it was the note," Tyler distinctly remembered the picture he had drawn for the other boy. It was a drawing of the two of them holding hands, surrounded by hearts in every color Tyler had in his box of crayons. Across the top in bright yellow, it read, _ **'U R The Best!'**_ followed by a lopsided smiley face.
Tyler had thought it was his best work.
"-Then you went around telling the other kids that you were going to marry Mason. Now this. Do you realize that his mother is never going to let you over to their house again now that she knows what you did?"
Tyler's eyes began to water. How could Mason's mother do that? Mason was Tyler's friend. Mason made Tyler all smiley, and like there was something fluttering around inside his stomach.
"Because- because-" Tyler sniffled and tears threatened to fall from his caramel brown eyes,"I thought Mason liked me. I thought he would want me to kiss his cheek. You and daddy like each other. Isn't that why you guys kiss sometimes?"
"Tyler..." his mother sighed. "Mason doesn't like you. Not like that, anyway."
"Yeah, obviously not, he told on me!" Tyler exclaimed. Tears were now free falling down his cheeks.
Tyler's mother scooted closer to him and took his small shaking hands in hers. She took one hand and wiped away a slow falling tear. "Baby, Mason couldn't like you even if he wanted to. Boys can't like boys. It's wrong."
Tyler frowned through his tears. Boys weren't allowed to like boys?
"W-what?" |
f34ba89999bf4b84990295830f8040e1 | ['d1e00017adfc4c0e9907e7168ce269bc'] |
Pineapple Crush
“You have everything you need?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You have the lunch I made you, right?”
“Yes, Brock…”
“And do you have-“
“Yes! I have everything you packed me. I’m fine.” Berry gave her older brother a small smile and a pat on the shoulder, before opening the door to leave.
“Stay safe, alright? You have my number, I can pick you up whenever.”
“I’ll stay safe, don’t worry.” The two inklings shared a hug before Berry left to her daily routine.
Berry has been doing Turf Wars since she was young, loving it ever since. She may get a little too competitive at times, but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself. Her trusty Rapid Blaster- sporting lots of dents and scratches from years of use- rests in her backpack as she makes her way to the square. Brock, her older brother, has always makes sure she’s well packed in case she decided to spend from dusk ‘till dawn there. Berry much rather prefers battling at night, though battling during the day brings the competitive players. It gives her a challenge- though she definitely doesn’t like challenges. She prefers battles easily won over by pesky basecampers and sneaky moves played by her team, but Berry herself would never admit something like that. Her ego is at large, believing she’s the best player of all time at moments such as where she gets wins by a point of a percentage of ink and the like. Despite her behavior, she continues her sport, bringing some fans of hers to the table as well via social media. Would she ever willingly play with them? Probably not, but the boost can get her through matches when she knows she’s gonna lose.
Arriving to the square, the activity is as booming as usual. People snacking, customers visiting the stores, and people preparing for upcoming matches outside the lobby. Taking a deep breath, she enters in through the big metal doors, leading her way to the Turf War waiting room. She’s tried Ranked before, but it doesn’t really catch her jive. She claims it sucks despite being C+ and constantly having cracks in all of her bars, but what’s expected from someone like her?
She browses her phone as people begin to show up, one smaller inkling catching her attention. Yellow tentacles, both tattered- though they seem to be trying to heal. Throwing herself against the lobby’s walls, she stares at her reflection in her weapon. An extremely damaged Aerospray MG, dents decorating the exterior. Berry groaned, shaking her head. She thought to herself about how the other inkling being on her team could totally stifle the way she played, praying she would be put on the other team.
As the room finally filled up, the 8 cephalopods grouped together before being transported to the playfield. This rotation brought them to Blackbelly Skatepark, one of Berry’s favorites. As the teams are revealed, Berry looks over to see the familiar yellow inkling she ever so wished she wouldn’t be paired with on her team- though they were all blended into the colors of the match, orange and purple. She seemed eager. “Looks like I’m carrying, huh,” Berry mumbled under her breath, angrily gripping her Rapid Blaster. The other two cephalopods on her team didn’t stand out enough for her to care, an inkling boy carrying a Carbon Roller and an octoling girl preparing her Undercover Brella. The other team was of similar balance to theirs, two octolings and two inklings carrying an assortment of weapons.
The whistle sounded and everyone left the spawn point- well, all but one. As Berry traveled throughout the map to the center, she heard several shouts resound from behind her. The voice was squeaky, almost shrill. She resists looking, attempting to ink as much as she can in a short amount of time. Finally reaching the center and climbing to the top, she hides in her own ink. Looking to the spawn point, she spots that pesky Aerosprayer flopping around, still shouting out for her teammates to join her. Frustrated, she pops up from her hiding and shouts back, “HEY, YOU! THE BATTLE’S OVER HERE!” Without realizing, she had an enemy sneaking up on her back, crushing her with their Dynamo. It’s not like she had time to react- she had _ more important things _ to take care of. Arriving back at her spawn, she grabbed the flopping inkling and held her small squid body. “Now listen, you. You need to join us in battle. At least ink somewhat! Who cares if it’s just spawn, just stick to the objective. Got that?”
The gal changed from her squid form to her kid form, causing Berry to hold her by the pits. She was… surprisingly light. All you could see were her grey eyes, her mouth covered by a bandana. “Listen, Jersey, Turf War isn’t that serious. If you want something serious, do Ranked! It’s that simple…~” The girl smirked at her, coming loose from her grip and firmly grasping her Aerospray. “Now, if you excuse me, I think you’re about to be splatted by someone from the other team.”
“Wh- huh?” Focusing back onto the park, a younger inkling attempts to splat her, their Splattershot Jr. rapidly shooting at the girl. The kid looks nervous, cowering away and returning to their side once she took grip of her Rapid Blaster. Turning back to her teammate, it seems she’s gone wreaking havoc. Groaning, she superjumps to one of her teammates- landing her at the entrance of centerfield. She swims her way down the slope to the ground below, placing down an Ink Mine before waiting patiently for any unsuspecting person to come by. | 01228a0c60ee4e8fbcd0a33e103bd37f | ['d1e00017adfc4c0e9907e7168ce269bc'] | I Lie Awake As My World Sleeps
Nights are commonly cold, often peaceful with many people, creatures, etcetera getting their rest. However, this is not the case for two rambunctious boys with minds full of curiosity.
Laceless and Prince have been spending much more time together than ever before, each other’s houses basically becoming a second home for the two. Laceless knows Prince’s mansion inside and out, Prince easily familiar with every part of Laceless’ house and the neighborhood around it.
It was about midnight. Laceless was staying at Prince’s house for the night, sleeping ever so peacefully in Prince’s bed. Prince was sleeping beside him, the two trying to keep distance so no one makes each other uncomfortable.
As the night passed, Laceless began to squirm in his sleep. His breathing increased, as did his heart rate. He woke up with a jolt, forehead soaked with sweat. Looking over to Prince, he slowly got out of bed, trying his best not to wake him up. He walked over to his door and looked back, watching Prince’s chest rise as he slept peacefully. A faint blush grew across Laceless’ cheeks, a small sigh following afterwards. Laceless snuck out of the room, out of the house, and to the garden. It brought him peace when he was upset, the serenity of the scene familiar in almost every way. He walked through the aisles at each different flower, the names of every one running through his head as he passed them by.
“Laceless?” A tired voice calls out from the entrance of the garden. “Laceless are you out here?” The voice slowly begins to get closer as it nears Laceless.
“O-Oh! Mr. Prince, I-“ A small chuckle leaves his mouth.
“Why are you here? It’s so late… I knew my bed felt lighter…”
“Well, I, um… couldn’t sleep. Bad dream. I-I didn’t want to wake you! You seemed so… peaceful.” The blush from earlier returns, the darkness of the night hiding it.
“But why come out here? You must be freezing.” Prince sits down next to a flowerbed, patting the seat next to him for Laceless. “We can share a blanket.”
“W-We? But… isn’t that-“
“Don’t worry about personal space. You’re fine.”
Laceless made his way and sat down next to Prince, Prince wrapping the other side of his blanket around Laceless. Laceless tensed, his face becoming hotter as he notices how close he is to Prince. He averts his eyes, trying his best not to worsen his anxiety. He doesn’t want to do anything weird to have Prince move away… but…
Laceless slowly moves his hand to Prince’s, Prince lifting his hand to point at the sky. “Oh, Laceless, look at the stars.”
Laceless pulls his hand back before looking up, the beauty of the sky making him forget everything for a moment.
“...Wow. It’s… pretty. Th-The stars are—!”
“Aren’t they beautiful? Maybe if you look close you’ll see a meteor.”
“...You… um…” _ Okay, do NOT mess this up. _ “Y-You know what else is be-beau-beautiful?”
Prince looks at Laceless, tilting his head with innocent curiosity. “Hmm?”
Laceless looks at Prince and panics, not wanting to ruin their friendship with a bad one-liner he heard on TV. “Th-The flowers! It’s the flowers.”
“...Y-Yeah! I guess so.” Prince nods before slowly resting his head on Laceless’ shoulder, Laceless turning into metaphorical stone at the simple gesture. “I’m more focused on the stars, though… I see the flowers daily.”
“Yyyyou’re… on my shoulder.”
“Oh! Um, I can move if you want! Sorry about that.”
“No, it- it’s quite fine. O-Only if it’s okay if I—“ Laceless rested his head atop of Prince’s, staring up at the sky. Prince blushes faintly, yet allowing him to do so.
The two watch the stars as they glimmer, the occasional meteor showing up. With each meteor comes Laceless excitedly pointing it out, wishing on his lucky stars each time. They tried to point out constellations, tried to name different stars they learned about in class… up until Prince heard soft snores from beside him. Laceless had fallen asleep as the two of them stargazed, leaving Prince a little confused as to what to do. Considering he was taller, maybe he would be able to carry him inside? But… he didn’t want to move him…
“Pssst… Laceless…”
Mumbles left his mouth as an eye opened, the boy attempting to keep it open.
“We’re gonna move inside, okay? I can open the curtain so you can look outside if it helps. Don’t need you getting a cold...!”
Laceless nodded, Prince moving away from their position and taking his hand. A small blush crossed Prince’s face once again, Laceless way too tired to realize what was going on.
The two made it inside safely, the blanket wrapped around Laceless as he trudged in with Prince. Both plopping down on Prince’s bed, Laceless mindlessly cuddled up to Prince as they got comfy, Prince reciprocating the position without hesitation. He thought it was comfy, nothing affectionate at all. Just something friends do.
The two slept through the night, no bad dream waking Laceless up again. It’s almost like Prince’s presence acted like melatonin for him…
Love will do that to ya.
**Author's Note:**
> AHAHA cheezy title. WOW this fic kind of sucks a little because um! ive been fighting off a fever for the past bit but yknow needing to write as an outlet will never be limited by a small bug. hope you like this softness!!!!!!!! wahoo |
febc7b9116cf456493c6417c766c97cc | ['d2080eeefd1341aa80819d741f975cfe'] |
An Offer of Employment
**Author's Note:**
> Remember that 2004 romantic comedy that Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock did together called Two Weeks Notice?
>
> Yeah, you and no one else. For some reason, while watching this cheesy and lovable film for the tenth or so time in as many weeks, it dawned on me that it would make a very good Sherlolly AU. So... here we are. Apologies. Hope you stick around for the ride.
“Sign right here, miss, and you’re free to leave.”
“It’s Ms. Hooper,” Molly corrected, “and technically, I was free to leave the moment you —”
“Thank you, Officer McNamara,” James cut in, silencing Molly with a sideways glance. Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she grabbed the officer’s proffered pen and scribbled her signature with acerbity. “Send the invoice over to the house when you’ve got a moment, would you? Give our regards to the missus and the kids.”
“Cheers, Mr. Hooper. See you next time.”
James shepherded his daughter away from the ticket window, tugging insistently on her scarf when she tried to stay and argue her point. “Come along, darling.”
“Really, Dad, I almost had him right there! You saw how he —”
“Didn’t inform of your Miranda rights?” James remarked drily. “You’ve been watching too much television, love. This isn’t the States.”
Molly scowled at him. “Yes, I’m well aware. ‘Give our regards to the missus!’ Was that _ really _ necessary?”
James chuckled as he held the door of the police station open for her. “The good lieutenant’s wife just gave birth! Their fourth in as many years. Would be insensitive not to.”
“ _ Dad. _ ”
James shrugged in response. “My dear, if you insist on protesting every possible miscarriage of justice in the city, all of Battersea Station shall be swapping Molly Hooper war stories soon enough.” He paused and flicked an eyebrow at her, with mock gravity. “Come to think of it, they may be already.”
Molly looked over the parking lot moodily as they headed over to the car. She knew he meant it in jest, but no self-respecting woman past the age of 24 _ wanted _ her aging father to have to bail her out from jail. “I’ll pay you back this time, Dad.”
James waved his hand dismissively, then reached into the pocket of his weathered wool coat to rummage for his car keys. “What’s a father for if not to bail his daughter out of jail?”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t know, Dad. None of the protests are really doing anything, are they? People are going to just keep doing whatever they like.”
James began to gently coax the car to life. “Well, love, you must remember who you’re dealing with. Holmes Corporation and the like are not people, they’re —”
“Heartless profit machines, I know,” Molly finished, and for a moment they smiled warmly at each other. “I remember what Mum always said.”
James paused, deliberating something, before reaching into the backseat. “I didn’t want you to find out some other way, but their redevelopment deals with the Battersea council are starting to gain traction.”
He handed her a newspaper. Molly frowned as she read the headline aloud. “‘Holmes Corporation to begin work on Battersea Power Station redevelopment’? What in the — they’re saying here that they’re looking to turn it into a manufacturing hotspot! The _ Power Station? _ That’s going to cost millions of pounds and it’ll cause all sorts of environmental and health —”
“Yes, I know, dear,” James cut in. “It’s a damned shame, all of it.” He perked up a bit and cast her a sly sideways glance. “How about you come home and we can discuss it over dinner? I’ll make you a solid fry-up. Your mother always liked a good side of rashers after a day of protests.”
Molly scratched at her neck absently, releasing a cloud of London street dust into the car. “What? Oh, no, thanks, Dad. I’m tired. I think I’ll just go home.”
After her father dropped her off in front of her apartment, Molly trudged up the stairs, dragging her feet sullenly. She couldn’t stop staring at the picture they’d printed next to the headline — a full-color, glossy image of Sherlock Holmes, media darling and Holmes Dispensaries CEO. He was shaking hands with a Battersea Councilman and looked vaguely bored, like he did in all his press releases.
All the papers and magazines — mainly the tabloids rags, really — loved him, though Molly herself had never seen why. Well, she could _ sort of _ see why. He was really pretty fit, with a tall, lean figure and sharp cheekbones, and his eyes were a shade of blue that she’d never seen anywhere else. And he was supposed to be quite charming; he was always photographed at glamorous film premieres and political events and cultural galas. He was a sight more famous than most CEOs, especially of something as drab as a power company.
Molly jammed her key into her door with no small amount of bitterness. Okay, so she definitely saw why Sherlock Holmes was such a celebrity. But really, was she the only person in all of London who saw that he was also probably evil personified?
She opened her door into the apartment and tossed her things onto the kitchen table, then glanced around the room balefully. A cramped, one-room studio greeted her eyes, every surface covered in law briefs and paper articles and half-legible to-do lists. Toby was nowhere to be seen, probably off sulking in the toilet like he was wont to do.
“You know,” she said, aloud, “they said being a lawyer would be hard, but at least I’d be satisfied with my work. At least I’d have _ achieved _ something.” | 2371dc4b08554451ac9a446000f0987e | ['d2080eeefd1341aa80819d741f975cfe'] |
Learning Curve
**Author's Note:**
> So, I think this story is G-rated slash. My beta, Leigh, insists that it's pre-slash. To compromise, we decided to say it could pretty much be either or both. I say when you've sniffed your partner you've pretty much passed beyond the bounds of mere friendship.
>
> Thanks again, to Leigh, and to everyone who wrote and encouraged me the last time.
## Learning Curve
by USER
Hayes
* * *
The room was getting smaller.
That was all Blair could figure, the only viable explanation. He liked the room, it was a good room filled with good stuff, but the walls were closing in. He looked at the doors and the window and they were definitely getting closer together. There was less floor than there used to be. He itched to measure it, but he wasn't that neurotic.
It drove him out into the living room. The living room, now, that was big. It wasn't actually just a living room, point of fact -- it was a living room and a kitchen and a hallway and a staircase. It was clean out here and the light was better. Jim was winning the war against chaos out here. Blair dropped onto the couch and spread his stuff out around him. Out here, he could work.
He was grading essays. It wasn't his favorite activity. Some of the undergrads didn't have a clue, and some of them were so good it made him twitchy. There was one girl in particular who did work he could barely match now. Where did people learn to write like that? She was brilliant, and it bothered him. Part of him hoped she'd stay in the program and use that amazing mind to enrich his field. The rest of him kind of hoped she'd go into nursing.
He surfaced, temporarily, when Jim came in.
"Hey, Sandburg." Jim shrugged out of his jacket, surveyed the room, and frowned slightly. "Workin' hard?"
Blair looked at his stuff. It had expanded to fill the space available, as stuff often does. There was probably a coffee table under the papers somewhere, but to find out would require special excavation equipment. "Sorry about the mess..."
"Don't worry about it." Jim smiled and turned toward the kitchen to get a beer. Blair frowned. Even through the smile, Jim was still obviously worried about it.
"I can work in my room," Blair offered.
Standing in the few feet of space that weren't quite living room or kitchen, Jim looked around again. It wasn't really so bad. It looked kind of lived in. Nice. Sandburg would have to get that stuff off the coffee table when he went to bed, of course, but it was okay to have it there for now. Carolyn used to spread out her work over the coffee table like that, until books and papers spilled off the coffee table and onto the floor. She had a desk but she wouldn't use it. Said it made her feel like she was still stuck at work.
Jim had privately thought it was working at home that made her feel like she was still stuck at work, but he'd kept that to himself. She took the desk with her when she left. He figured there were probably little pastel, porcelain children all over it now. She took all of those with her when she left, too, thank God.
"It's fine, Sandburg," Jim said. "You're good. Just don't leave it all there when you're done."
"I wasn't raised by wolves, man."
"In that case," Jim said, deadpan, "you could use a haircut, too."
Sandburg flipped him off casually and looked back down at his papers. Jim stood there watching for another minute, watching, then went upstairs to wash up before dinner. He'd chased a guy four blocks through a windless, blazing heat. His knees hurt, he smelled bad, and the perp got away from him. Took Rafe nearly running the guy down in a Honda Civic to pull him in. Rafe had stepped out of the car grinning, never broke a sweat. It was just wrong. And the car wasn't even American.
Feeling cleaner, Jim went back downstairs. Sandburg was still there, hunched over the same paper. His hair went down over his shoulders and left an upside down V of bare skin on the back of his neck. He was making blue marks in the margins of the page, and not even Sentinel vision could make sense of them. Jim pitied the kid who was gonna have to read it.
"Sandburg."
Sandburg grunted, but didn't really answer.
"Hey, teach. You eat yet?"
It took a minute, but something filtered through. Jim watched as Sandburg surfaced, blinking. "What?"
"Food. You remember food. We need it to live."
Blair leaned back and let the blue book fall to the cushions beside him. His spine made angry noises, but it felt good. He leaned further back, letting his neck go limp and his head tilt over the back of the couch, and it felt even better. Jim walked up close and leaned in so Blair could see him. Upside-down Jim.
"Food sounds good," Blair said. "What are you making?"
"Chinese delivery."
"Even better."
Blair got up and went back into his room to get his wallet off the dresser. He looked at the walls again, just to check their progress, but if they'd moved in again it was too small a change to detect. He grinned at himself, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out a ten. His grin faded.
"Uh, how expensive is this Chinese delivery, Jim?" he asked from the dresser. Until Friday, that ten was pretty much it.
Jim came to the doorway and looked in. His eyes scanned the room fast before he looked at Blair. "What?"
Blair blinked. "You didn't hear me?"
"I wasn't listening."
"You weren't _listening_?" |
22c113883b7a44c1947dec9736b1858e | ['d216c95f4f8047c898fa5f6972616ff8'] | Sometimes he would play his guitar, too. But now he lived with Ray who didn't just like to chat for hours, which was actually kind of nice, he also liked to jam. Badly.
This is what his Mom did, though. When he was young, when things were hard she would grab his hand and they would walk. Sometimes they would talk, mostly they were silent, just thinking, just making the best of things. They would walk and walk for hours until they found their way back home, feeling slightly less helpless.
Helpless was probably a little dramatic; he often felt like he was drowning, just trying to keep his head above water and not fall under the waves completely, but he wasn't helpless anymore. The stifled feeling had lessened when he moved away, but the guilt that took it's place was almost as suffocating. It wasn't that he didn't love his parents, he really, really did, more than anything, his old life just never felt like his. And the more he tried to fit into it, the more the threads stretched and the holes began to show. So when he found himself back in his parents' house after his most recent, final break up, he didn't even unpack his boxes, he picked a town near enough to be able to visit home but far enough to find something different.
When he started dating Rachel in high school, he spent most of his time waiting for it to happen. He wasn't exactly sure what _it_ was, but he saw his friends navigate their way through crushes and falling in love for the first time and figured he would know when he felt it. He didn't, though, and, after watching them all trip over themselves and look like loved up idiots, he thought there was something wrong with him. Because Rachel was everything any could ask for, kind and brilliant and the smartest person he had ever met, and Patrick loved her so much. She was the best friend he had, but it never worked, it never clicked into place no matter how hard they worked. She should have fit perfectly in the life Patrick was meant to have, the life with the perfect wife and perfect kids and a boring but bill-paying job. That life was perfectly nice but one that Patrick never felt at home in, despite trying so hard all his life. Even when he left it behind, he couldn't understand why.
Then David Rose burst into his life in a flurry of voicemails and enchanting eyes and Patrick was captivated instantly. He had never met anyone like him before, no one whose presence filled a room instantly or struck a breathless feeling right to the core of him. From the second he shook his hand, Patrick was hooked. He probably looked the way his friends used to, hanging onto every word David said but he couldn't stop it. He'd never felt like this, so completely out of control that he listened to the rambling voicemails from a man he barely knew to calm himself down.
This should've been something he had considered before. All his life he had seen other guys and felt a hot rush of something he didn't understand. He probably didn't understand it because he didn't feel it for girls the way he thought he was supposed to. So, when he caught a glimpse of a stranger in a locker room and felt weird and warm all over, he shrugged it off, filed it away in the back of his brain with the images of sweaty baseball players and Calvin Klein ads his cousins had secretly passed around one summer. He'd pushed it all down, kept it all inside, and lived the life that everyone wanted for him until he burst at the seams with it. Running, leaving his family behind, seemed like the cleanest option at that point.
Now he was here, probably at least a little gay and a lot sweaty, at the top of a mountain outside a town he hardly knew, thinking about the beautiful, strange, fascinating man he couldn't get out of his mind and he felt it, finally. It made sense, the pieces started fitting together, his mind started feeling less full. He felt breathless and smiley and wide-eyed and a little sick and more at home than he ever felt anywhere else. It was everything, and he wanted more. That was terrifying.
It didn't have to be, though, he thought. It didn't have to be scary or shameful, he could just enjoy being giddy and nervous, he could dive headfirst into David, and figure out the consequences later.
He could go to the left, into the unknown, with no real plan, and end up somewhere beautiful.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't dying - that was ridiculous, he was basically in his late twenties. But when his heart was hammering too fast, too hard in his chest, and his hands were almost vibrating, and vomit threatened his stomach and throat, it was kind of hard to be rational. He knew what this was, knew he just had to try and slow his breathing, close his eyes and will away the tears in them, think happy thoughts until it passed.
The floor in the back room was soothingly cool, welcomely icy against his too hot skin. Sweat was beading over his forehead and neck, and he debated whether or not he should lie down. Instead, he straightened his back and sat upright, back flush against the wall behind him. The deep, slow breaths were helping, but he was still very aware of the fact that he might throw up or pass out or die any second.
"David? You here?" a voice called from the other room. Patrick was here. Usually, that would make him like blushy and nervous and sweaty but, well, that was already taken care of. This was his nightmare. | 9f208bf2ac334c0fbc30cf8197d44dfd | ['d216c95f4f8047c898fa5f6972616ff8'] | It totally wasn't weird to think about how good your business partner looks in white or to touch him when you don't really need to. David didn't even like touching, not really, not with people he didn't know that well. But he kept touching Patrick's arm when he really didn't need to and it was so embarrassing but what was more embarrassing was that he thought about that touch for hours after.
You can like someone as a friend or colleague and occasionally think about the sound of his laugh until you fall asleep, that wasn't inappropriate, that was fine. It was totally fine to want to hear him talk but be unable to stop the relentless string of lunacy from projectile vomiting all over the walls of your new store all the fucking time.
Stevie had said he was flustered and he wasn't. He just blushed a lot when Patrick talked to him, and usually found whatever he said insanely hot. Even if it was words like inventory or profit forecast. But flustered made him sound like some hormonal teenager talking to their crush and he wasn't that, he just sometimes got warm and jittery when Patrick was around. Also, sometimes when he wasn't.
So, maybe his feelings weren't entirely platonic, he was realising slowly. Maybe thinking about someone constantly and finding the tiniest reason to be close to them was an indication that you liked them. The fact that Patrick's natural confidence and the easy way he torments David with mouth grinning around a laugh made David want to kiss him until his smirk disappeared probably meant that he wanted something that Patrick probably didn't even want to give. Yes, there had been flirting, but there was a chance he was just like that, the man was terminally polite to everyone he met.
He rolled over in bed and frowned at his sleeping friend. There was nothing he hated more than Stevie knowing she had got under his skin. When his eyes closed he thought again of Patrick, of his lit up eyes and his mouth when it moved silently as he counted, and decided there were no maybes in this; he was already stupidly, absolutely in this, whatever this was, even if it wasn't much of anything.
He wanted to wake Stevie up and yell at her but he didn't really think he could argue about it, because he had no interest in arguing if he wasn't going to win.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You nervous? About tomorrow?"
"A little bit," David said. Patrick frowned so he added, "a lot."
"It's going to be good, I know it."
"You say that, but you don't."
Standing on the step outside the store, they were supposed to be saying goodnight but had been talking for the past fifteen minutes. The sun was setting now, night covering the town with a cool breeze. Not that David noticed, he felt sunny all over.
"You don't need to argue with everything I say, you know."
"No, only when you're wrong."
"Right," Patrick shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, David."
"Not if I skip town instead," he watched Patrick go, making his way to where his car was parked near the cafe. As he walked he turned, fixing David with a smirk that lit his face up.
"You won't be able to enjoy the big day if you skip town," he smirk grew into a laugh when David groaned.
"Is it going to be big, though?"
"We're going to have a big, hard launch, David," he shouted across the street.
"Okay, thank you so much."
"Embrace it."
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a moment after their date, after he dropped David home and they kissed, when Patrick was alone in his room and safely away from Ray, that he thought he might actually explode. If he weren't worried about making a mess of the flowers covering the walls he might have let it happen. It was a consuming, overpowering feeling pulsing through him, akin to anxiety, maybe, but not quite. It wasn't like nerves, it wasn't even bad, it was just there, seemingly unshakable in its course.
He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes with hands until his vision blurred. He thought of David, as he often did recently. Easily the most extraordinary person he had ever met, he pulled Patrick right off the path he had seen himself staying on just weeks ago, and unknowingly guided him onto the right one. Patrick was sure he would have found it on his own eventually, but finding it here with this man in this strange town made finding it all the better.
Tears, sudden and hot, spilled onto his cheeks. The overwhelming flutter in his stomach calmed into a warm, soothing relief that spreads everywhere, sinking deep into his bones and swelling inside of him until he was sure you could see it breaking through his skin.
He touched the side of his face, his jaw where David's hand had been, and let out a short laugh when the skin there felt cool and unchanged. That doesn't seem right; surely everything had changed, like he was a different person this morning, like now everything fits. Now he doesn't feel as if he's too big for skin and suffocated by it, doesn't feel as though he's trying his best to look right in someone else's body. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and knew then he was sure he knew exactly who he is. |
ee7e73953f3d4256acb5e51af7d955be | ['d278b23177c349148d58fe792e2ac119'] | Leta's first Christmas at the Scamanders
**Author's Note:**
> The world needs more stories about Leta & Theseus. And instead of complaining, I started writing them myself.
>
> Ideas and comments are welcome!
>
>
>
> Disclamer:
> English is not my first language. Feel free to correct me or come with advice.
> I don't own the World of Harry Potter
_Christmas, 1910, The Scamanders_
This year Newt wouldn’t let Leta be alone at Hogwarts doing Christmas season. The past two years, she had refused to accept Newt’s invitation to stay at the Scamanders. She wouldn’t want to intrude their family time, and she was afraid of her father finding out that she spent Christmas with the Scamanders. A family that wasn’t a part of his social circle. Not that he would allow her to spend Christmas with the Blacks or the Malfoys either. Unless it meant she was willing to marry into one of the ‘true pure-blood’ families of course. Which she had made very clear to him, she never would. Her father, Corvus Lestrange, was many things, but when his daughter sat her foot down, he didn’t argue her. When Leta chose to be as stubborn as her father, Corvus always gave her what she wanted. Leta had never figured out if it was because he didn’t think she was worth arguing with or if it was his way to give her just a tiny bit of acknowledgement. Perhaps it both, but whatever the reason, Leta was grateful for not having to marry a nasty cousin. Besides not arguing her when she had made up her mind, her father’s only other somewhat kind act toward her was the expensive presents. Though, his motive wasn’t exactly kind. His presents always had an ulterior motive. Buying expensive clothes and jewels to show other wizards the Lestranges had more money than everyone else. Giving her books, he wanted her to read. In general, he would buy her anything she wanted if this meant she would keep her distance from him and didn’t scandalize her family name more than she already did by existing. And spending Christmas at the Scamanders, her father might consider as a scandal.
“Come on, Leta”, Newt pleaded, “if you don’t come with me then I will stay at Hogwarts with you!”
“I don’t want to intrude. And I don’t mind spending Christmas at Hogwarts. It’s quiet and peaceful. Last year I spend a day playing wizard’s chess with Albus Dumbledore. He also taught me some healing charms…”
“I am sure it was all fun, but Christmas is about being with your family and friends. Go ice-skating, drink hot chocolate and I would really like to show you the hippogriffs”. Newt interrupted Leta before she came up with other reasons to stay. He almost sounded like her. Being ironic wasn’t something he did very often, that was Leta’s thing to do. It wasn’t like him to argue either, Leta was much better at it, but this meant something to him. He wanted to show her the hippogriffs and his other non-human friends. He wanted to show Leta what Christmas can be like. And he also wanted to show his father and older brother that he actually did have a human friend.
“Theseus always have friends coming over for Christmas. My mother loves having guest. And she will be very disappointed if I don’t bring you with me home for Christmas.”
“But I am a Lestrange. You really want to bring a Lestrange to your home? What will your father say?”
“I want YOU to spend Christmas with us. I don’t care about your family name. Neither does my mother, which means my father have no saying. When he meets you, he won’t care about your family name either. Don’t worry about it. I promise, it will be fun.” Newt looked at Leta with big eyes.
“But what about MY father? What will he say? Or do.” Leta looked down, not meeting Newt’s hopeful eyes. They had completely switched roles. Newt was the careful one, who looked down. Leta was the strong one with determination in her voice and ideas to solve any problem.
“No more buts! We will figure it out. Make him understand that staying at Hogwarts in worse for the Lestrange reputation than Christmas with my family”.
Leta’s eyes suddenly lit up and her lips form a small smile. Newt knew this look. She had an idea.
“I could write to him that other students are starting to talk about me never leaving Hogwarts for holidays. That they whisper about my father not being able to gather his family or even make sure his daughter had a place to spend Christmas. That the teachers ask me why I never take home. That they will have him talk with the Head Master if I don’t leave Hogwarts in any breaks”. Leta took a deep breath before continuing. “He would never want be to come home, but if I suggest staying with a pure-blood family, he might even demand me to do so. I can make him see that me staying at Hogwarts is more scandalizing to the family name than if I stay with the Scamanders”.
“Then it is settled. You spend Christmas with the Scamanders! God, it will be nice to have someone on my side”
Leta let out a laugh. “So, I am just there to make you seem better? To argue on your behalf?”
“Basically. Yes”. Newt had learned to understand Leta’s humour. He was even able to play along after over two years of practice. Leta let out another laugh and put a friendly arm around Newt’s shoulder. “It will be my pleasure to fight your fights. Always”. Newt smiled. Happy to have a friend like Leta. | 8ca7d1e7f7af4360a3271857dde2eebf | ['d278b23177c349148d58fe792e2ac119'] |
Leta and Newt being send off to Hogwarts
_Summer, 1908, Hogwarts_
The platform 9 ¾ was buzzing with parents, siblings and Hogwarts students all working their way through the platform to say their goodbyes and other assuring words. Newt stayed quit, keeping his eyes on his feet, trying to avoid all the fuzz that surrounded him. He wasn’t a fan of large crowds. To be honest; he really dreaded large crowds. His brother, Theseus, was the opposite; he thrived in large crowds as the popular, extrovert, carefree person he was. Newt on the other hand preferred the company of his mother’s hippogriffs. Actually, he got along very well with any other creatures than human. This worried Theseus, who just finished his education at Hogwarts this year. Knowing his brother and knowing how some students could be, he had his worries about how Newt would handle bullies without Theseus himself being there to defend him. Their mother didn’t seem to share Theseus’ worries; she knew Newt could be fine. But she really did wish that he would be able to make a true friend in a fellow student. A friend who would share Newt’s love for creatures and perhaps challenge his social skills with humans.
Newt could fell his brother’s protecting hand on his shoulder as they stopped next to the train, people fuzzing and moving everywhere around them. Even though Theseus was in many ways very different from Newt, his older brother had always been a protecting and caring brother. He knew how Newt dreaded crowds, and he would do everything he could to protect Newt from the people around them. It definitely helped being tall and muscular as Theseus was. People naturally respected him and gave him space. The space Newt needed to fell just the slightest bit of comfortable in this situation. All Newt really wanted was to get on the train and get to Hogwarts. He had looked forward to attending Hogwarts since his brother got home after his first year at Hogwarts. Now it was his turn to learn how to use a wand, to be sorted into a Hogwarts House and to meet new creatures. Though, his brother hadn’t really been interested in the creatures. Theseus had of course told Newt about some creatures he had seen at Hogwarts to make Newt happy, but Newt knew Theseus really preferred the company of humans. And Newt didn’t blame his brother. Everyone wants to be friends with Theseus: all girls smile at him and wants to date him; the boys envy him and wants to be near him just to get a bit of his fame. Newt knew all this, but he just didn’t wish it himself. He knew that Theseus in fact didn’t have many true friends. Theseus had once told Newt that Newt was lucky to have some many friends in his creatures. “You know the creatures are your friends because they like you, not because they want to use you for something”, Theseus had said. Newt didn’t really know what it meant at the time, but after they had been in Diagon Ally together this summer, Newt understood. Everyone they met was overly nice to Newt to impress Theseus. And by the end of the conversation more than a dozen had asked something of Theseus: “Would you mind put a word in for me with Caroline? I want to ask her out and if you put a good word in for me, I am sure she will say yes” or “oh Theseus, will you please come to my party? Everyone will come if you are there” or “So when are we going on that date you promised me?”. The last question had Theseus looking at Newt with a confused, but yet amused look in his eyes telling Newt he never promised that girl a date. Newt couldn’t help giggling at the situation even though he felt a bit bad for his older brother. Theseus loved being popular, but not knowing who your friends are and who are just pretending must be frustrating. Newt didn’t have that problem with his creatures even though not every creature liked him at first sight. He would win them over eventually.
“Are you ready Newt?”. His mother’s voice brought him back to the buzzing platform. He had the habit of getting lost in his own thoughts. She was standing in front of him, a hand on each side of his arms. She was smiling, but he could see the sadness behind it. He had never been away from his mother for long. Newt gave her a nod. “Try to make a good friend, right? Be the good boy, you are and be true to yourself. Okay?”. Before Newt could answer, she hugged him tightly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I promise, mom”, Newt said as he pulled away from her. As soon as his mother stood back, he was almost crushed by Theseus´ hug. Theseus was definitely a hugger. “Newt remember not all people are nice. Don’t let it get to you. Promise me you will defend yourself!”. Newt gave a nod in response, not really sure what to answer. He wouldn’t really want to put himself in a situation where he had to defend himself. It was classic Theseus though, being the defender and protector, he was, he had been in his share of fights at Hogwarts, defending what he believed in and protecting the ones who wasn’t able to protect themselves. “Please help mom take care of the hippogriffs,” Newt whispered to Theseus when Theseus finally let go of Newt. “I will”, Theseus smiled at Newt, messing his younger brother’s hair before taking a step back to their, now quietly sobbing mother, holding his arm around her shoulder, while Newt turned to get on the train.
Newt walked down the train’s hall. Most of the compartments where already full of excited students. “Can I sit here?” Newt asked the girl sitting alone in a compartment. It was the emptiest compartment he had seen so far, and the girl looked nice enough. She was reading, so Newt decided she could not be as annoying compared to the many loud students he had passed. The girl looked up from her book, a small smile forming on her lips. “Of course, please come in” the girl said looking at Newt, who found it difficult to keep eye contact for more one nanosecond. “Though, you know, I wouldn’t have the right to tell you not to sit since I don’t own this compartment” she said as Newt sat down opposite her. “I can go if you don’t want be here?”. Newt already stoop up and was on his way out, feeling a hand grip around his arm. “No, that was not what I meant. I would like you to stay”, she hesitated, “It’s just that not many people would ask for permission to sit even if it’s just to be polite. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you here!”
Newt sat down again, looking at the girl’s book. ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen, a book written by a muggle. “My nanny gave it to me just before I went on the train. She said it would hopefully show me that women can have a voice in a world of dominating men,” the girl explained as if she knew what Newt was thinking. “My father gave me the book ‘Curses and Counter-Curses’ last week as my goodbye present. He would never let me read something like this”. She pointed at the book in her lap. “Do you like to read?” the girl suddenly asked, trying to change the subject. “Uhm, yes I, I do”, Newt stuttered uncomfortable with him being the topic of the conversation. The girl looked at him with big eyes expecting him to elaborate his answer. Newt cleared his throat. “Mostly, I read about creatures. My mother has a lot of books about hippogriffs that I like to read. Though, it is not as learning as observing and spending time with the creatures”, Newt told with passion. Have him start on talking about his creatures and he is unable to stop. The girl looked at him with great interest but didn’t say anything.
“I am Newt by the way. Newt Scamander”, Newt said reaching his hand out for the girl to take. “My name is Leta. Leta Lestrange”, Leta said trying to read the expression on Newt’s face. Her last name usually made people distance themselves from her. Either of fear or some wicked kind of respect for her family name she never understood. She was nothing like most Lestranges. Which just made her even more of an outcast as every nasty pure-blood family in her father’s social circle looked at her like she wasn’t worthy to carry the Lestrange name. To be honest, she wished she wasn’t born with that name. But Newt didn’t look at her the way she was used to. He smiled a friendly smile at her while they shook hands. “Nice to meet you Leta” he said. And she could tell that he meant it.
They talked all the way to Hogwarts, something neither of them had thought they had been able to. But it was just so easy to keep the conversation going. And even though they both knew they wouldn’t be sorted into the same Hogwarts House, they decided to be friends. To Newt, Leta seemed like a Ravenclaw, but she said her father would kill her if she wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. And Leta’s father didn’t seem like the person who said this as a joke, Newt thought but didn’t say out loud. Leta knew it and saying it out loud would make it too real. Suddenly, Leta smiled. “You know, it is kind of funny that the Lestranges is Slytherins when our family crest is a raven. And every firstborn boy has been named Corvus through generations. So Ravenclaw had probably been the more obvious Hogwarts House if the Lestranges had been less obsessed with blood purity”. Newt thought for a bit, trying to find something to say that would make Leta feel better about being sorted into Slytherin.
“Merlin was a Slytherin. And he believed in peace between muggles and wizards. So much there is an organization named the Order of Merlin which promotes muggles right in the wizarding world. He was also called the Prince of Enchanters because he was an expert in charms. Slytherin is not all bad. You could be the next Merlin. A female version, but a great one”. Newt stumbled over the words that came out of his mouth. He felt like a moron when he stopped talking, but Leta just smiled at him. A real smile that reached her eyes. “Yeah, I could be the next Merlin”, she said, “Then you could be the next… Great caretaker and protector of creatures. If there has ever been one”. The last sentence was more a question than anything else. A question Newt had asked himself and his mother many times. But one thing was sure; he would like to be a great caretaker and protector of creatures. And he would like Leta to be a great wizard like Merlin.
**Author's Note:**
> English is not my first language! Please, feel free to come with constructive criticism, advice, notes or ideas. |
691c2d88d16e426aa56fc5473778bf7b | ['d27cf3ce48cc47338956774cba07e5ea'] | “Good,” David giggled breaking out of Matteo’s grasp and grabbing his boyfriend’s shirt from the floor and slipping it over his head. He quickly pulled on his boxers.
“You’re so fucking hot in my clothes,” Matteo practically growled after a minute and David let out a surprised shriek when Matteo wrapped one arm around his back and yanked him closer.
David laughed, “You think I’m hot in anything.”
“Can you blame me?” Matteo shrugged and thrust shallowly against him.
“What?” David half laugh half moaned, “What has gotten into you? Oh my God.”
Matteo shook his head, “We’ve been in cars and walking the last few days. I haven’t gotten you alone in a while. I want to take advantage of it.”
“Fuck,” David whined. “Okay. Fuck it,” he said with fervor and braced his back against the sink. “You have...have another condom?”
“Yeah,” Matteo pulled another packet out of the pocket of his discarded shorts.
“Always prepared,” David kissed the boy hard and wrapped a leg around the back of Matteo’s knees.
Laughing, David let Matteo go so the boy could quickly unwrap the foil packet and roll the condom on.
“Can you go like this?” Matteo asked pushing David backwards so he could lean against the counter. Somewhere along the lines David realized Matteo had lost his towel and David’s boxers were somehow pooled on the ground.
“I love you,” Matteo whispered, and David felt their foreheads come to rest against each other.
David returned to his earlier position and wrapped a leg around Matteo’s calves, spreading his legs.
At the first push in, David whimpered and reached back to grab the counter with one hand, the other wrapping around Matteo’s neck and clinging there.
He moaned softly when Matteo started to shallowly thrust a few times before going hard and deep, taking David by surprise. He cried out in surprise and pleasure, his leg clutching tighter around Matteo.
“You okay?” Matteo whispered, going back to shallow thrusts.
“Yeah, just still sens...sensit...ive,” His voice hitched when Matteo pressed in deep and swiveled his hips. “Fuck. Please.”
Matteo smiled and brought their lips together in a hungry kiss. David came trembling and gasping into Matteo’s mouth. He groaned when he felt Matteo still moving inside him.
“Can you keep going?” Matteo whispered and David could feel himself rubbing up and down his back.
He knew he was trembling. Could feel himself shaking. “Yes. Want you to come.” David whimpered.
“Yes,” Matteo started thrusting hard and the oversensitivity made David gasp every time he moved. He clung to Matteo, moving his hand from his boyfriend’s neck to the small of his back.
David felt himself start to climb up that peak again and shuddered violently against Matteo as he came again.
“Fuck,” He heard Matteo moan. “Did you just come?”
“Mmm,” David could only make sounds. He knew Matteo hadn’t stopped yet and it was the best kind of torture. He felt constantly on the cusp of overstimulation and so, so much pleasure. _Fuck_. He wanted to come again but at the same time he didn’t know if his body could handle it.
And then Matteo thrust at a different angle and he screamed, coming for the third time. He was barely hanging onto the counter, barely clutching Matteo, but he knew his boyfriend was holding him up.
Matteo thrust a few more times before slamming hard into David and David knew Matteo had come. They rested together for a few minutes before Matteo pulled out slowly.
David almost feel backwards when they separated. His legs felt weak and his whole-body thrumming with pleasure and exhaustion.
Matteo chuckled softly and he felt himself being hauled into Matteo’s arms.
“Fuck,” David shook his head with a breathy giggle. He leaned his head against Matteo’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
“We are getting so good at this,” Matteo laughed.
David nodded, “Uh huh.”
“I think we need to take a real shower now,” Matteo stated, and David nodded, feeling sticky between his thighs.
“Just to get clean this time,” David laughed at Matteo’s bare ass already jumping back into the tub.
—————————
“Why does your cousin want to be called something that’s kind of derogatory?” David asked once they were both dressed and sitting back on the sofa.
Matteo shrugged, “He’s an idiot. I don’t know.”
“Oh,” David half smirked. “So...uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Okay?” Matteo looked at him in confusion and David knew he made an abrupt change of subject.
David cleared his throat, “My parents...they want to see me and come stay with me and Laura.”
“Oh,” David felt Matteo shift next to him.
Nodding, David took Matteo’s hand into his. “What do you think?”
“Me?” Matteo squeezed David’s hand. “Why does it matter what I think?”
“Because you’re my boyfriend and I need you to keep me from doing something stupid.” David tried to joke, but it fell flat. “I mean they gave up on me.”
Matteo nodded, “But if you didn’t go to Laura’s, we probably wouldn’t have met.”
“I thought you believed in fate. Wouldn’t that mean we would have met no matter what?”
Matteo shrugged, “I’d like to think we would have found each other, but...I don’t know. Maybe they did you a favor. You have friends now. I have you.”
“I suppose,” David leaned into Matteo’s side. “You’re not seeing your dad.”
“That’s different. He abandoned my mom and me. Then when he found out she went crazy; he didn’t even bother to come home. He was an asshole,” Matteo tried to explain.
“Hmm,” David just felt so torn. “If they did come...could I, uh, stay with you?”
Matteo nodded, “But isn’t the point to spend time with them?” | 4e278d58799040d1b1bf36ba90bd1a6e | ['d27cf3ce48cc47338956774cba07e5ea'] | “I don’t think I could stand to be under the same roof with them all the time,” David felt sick at having to be around his parents in the small apartment. “I think I can stomach it better knowing that I can spend my nights with you.”
“Sure, you know no one cares. Hell, I think Hans would prefer it if I moved out and you stayed,” Matteo laughed.
“Hans loves you,” David said sincerely. He had spent time watching Hans and Matteo interact just from being there and he could see how much Hans loved and cared about Matteo. When Hans would make dinner, he’d always make sure there was a plate for Matteo, or when he would go grocery shopping, David had caught Hans slipping some extra cheese, or some other food onto Matteo’s shelf. As far as David knew, Matteo never realized it.
“I’m just Mia’s friend who lucked into an apartment,” Matteo shrugged. “I’m just a roommate, distant friend.”
“Do you love him?” David asked even though he knew Matteo loved the older man like a brother.
“I mean...sure. He’s helped me out.” Matteo nodded. “But this isn’t about my life. This is about you. What do you want?”
David shrugged, “Would you be there? When I see them again?”
“Sure,” Matteo promised. “If that’s what you need.”
“It’s what I need,” David stated without hesitation. Because it was. He had somehow become dependent on Matteo and he knew the same was true for Matteo. But it freaked him out how not freaked out he was about it all. It felt natural, normal. “Umm, this is what Hans and I talked about when we were in Amsterdam.”
“Oh,” Matteo nodded. “Did he help you?”
David nodded, “He put things into perspective. He encouraged me to talk to you. I would have anyway, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“I get that,” Matteo kissed David’s cheek.
“I guess you might meet my parents soon,” David was nervous, but he tried to convince himself it was going to be okay.
Taking out his phone, he sent a message to Laura telling her that it was okay to have their parents. He received a response not even five minutes later.
**They texted yesterday saying they could no longer make it, but maybe for the holidays. I’m so sorry David. I think they just need more time.**
David laughed without humor. “Of course.” He handed the phone to Matteo to read.
“I’m so sorry,” Matteo wrapped an arm around David’s waist and David felt Matteo’s head lean onto his shoulder.
“I guess that teaches me not to depend on them,” David didn’t know what else to say.
Matteo nodded, “But, I don’t think you were ready to see them yet either.”
“I wasn’t, but I was going to try,” David stated. Even though it stung, he did admit he felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to worry about that.
“You can still spend nights with me, you know?” David smiled slightly at Matteo’s suggestion. “Let’s pull out the sofa bed and just watch something on Netflix?”
David nodded getting up and helping Matteo her their bed ready. He picked up the sheets Guid had left out for them and he and Matteo made the bed in silence. They tossed the pillows at the top and the blanket over.
Matteo was the first to slip under the covers and David followed suit a second later, after he tucked their clothes back into Matteo’s backpack.
Turning on his right side, David purposely faced the opposite direction of the front door and Matteo’s cousin’s bedroom. He felt Matteo hook an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek before rolling away. He smiled to himself when he felt Matteo’s ankle hook around his.
—————————
David blinked awake, trying to figure out what woke him up. The light from the window blinded him and he turned over to come face to face with Matteo’s back. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and looked around. He startled when his eyes landed on Matteo’s cousin sitting in a chair just staring at them.
“Umm, hi,” David pulled the blanket up to his chin.
“Hm,” The man grunted.
David tried telepathically to get Matteo to wake up. To his disappoint, Matteo let out a loud snore.
“We appreciate you letting us stay here,” David offered.
“I’d do anything for my cousin. We Florenzi’s stick together,” The man said in English.
“Like a gang?” David tried to joke, but the look on Guid’s face stopped him.
Guid shook his head. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.” Without waiting, David watched the man walk off.
David quietly got out of bed, grabbing hoodie and throwing it on. When he made it into the small kitchen, he saw Guid standing there.
“You and my cousin?”
“Uh, yes. Me and your cousin,” David nodded.
Guid nodded back. “You hurt him, we hurt you. Understood?”
“ _We?_
“Florenzi’s,” Guid shrugged.
“Oh,” David shifted. “I love your cousin.”
“Good,” Guid nodded. “Make sure it stays that way. His dad’s an asshole. You don’t be one too.”
David nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“What’s going on?” David looked up to see Matteo rubbing his eyes, hair messed and sticking out in all directions.
“Nothing Matty! Just introducing David to the Florenzi ways.”
David saw Matteo roll his eyes and take a step next to him. “Don’t call me that. And I’m sure you were.” Matteo said sarcastically.
“Okay, well I’ve got to get to work. See you Matty,” Guid laughed, pushing past the David and Matteo.
“What did he say to you?” Matteo asked, setting his hands-on David’s shoulders.
David laughed and chuckled, “Something about a Florenzi gang and not to hurt you.”
“What?” David saw a cute look of confusion take over Matteo’s face.
“Yeah. It was actually kind of sweet,” David shrugged.
Matteo groaned, “It’s...I’m sorry.”
“No, really. Your cousin loves you.” David nodded. |
48ce1a42e851426882e424e63708a6c3 | ['d2b0a1df97354a76844750ef750931a1'] | Now it was 2am and Julio wanted to stay in bed with ‘Star tonight. He wanted them to leave together in the morning and act like this, all of it, was no big deal. He wanted to watch Sam sputter and blush and be able to shrug it off. He wanted to tell Jimmy and ‘Berto that this didn’t make him any less of a man. He wanted to tell Cable to go fuck himself. He wanted to wake up tomorrow morning and finally be OK with who he was. But he couldn’t.
The worst part was that ‘Star didn’t get it. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t hold hands and suck face in public like Sam and Tabby did. He didn’t grasp why they had to sneak around. He didn’t get it but he went with it anyway- like he always did. ‘Star was a good soldier and he knew how to follow orders.
‘You do not want the team to know that we are having sexual relations?’
‘I- look, dude, you can just call it sex. ‘Sexual relations’ gives me flash backs to McCoy’s health class’
‘Very well. You do not want them to know we are having sex?’
‘No. I mean, just not yet, okay?’
‘Star was silent for a moment, considering. ‘Are you ashamed of this?’
‘No! It’s just, I’m not ready right now. Look, I know this isn’t a big deal for you but...’
‘If it is important to you, Julio, I will keep this secret.’
‘It doesn’t have to be forever, ‘Star. I promise.’
It felt bad making ‘Star keep a secret this big. It clearly troubled him and almost nothing got to Shatterstar. Was he screwing him up somehow- making him think there was something wrong with being queer? It was just- _he couldn’t deal with it right now._ He’d barely come to terms with being a mutant. How the Hell was he supposed to come out to his teammates? To _Cable?_ Dios. Just the thought of it made Julio feel ill. It was better just to keep it between them. Just for now. Just until he plucked up a little more courage. He’d say goodnight, maybe borrow a pair of boxers, and then be on his way.
He reaches for ‘Star and his mismatched eyes flutter open. He looks vaguely surprised.
‘Julio. You are still here.’ , there is a ghost of a smile on his face.
‘Si.’ He strokes the side of ‘Star’s cheek, thumb tracing the line of his jaw, caressing his perfect skin.
‘Are you staying the night?’ His heavily accented voice is quiet. He looks hopeful.
He really should go.
‘I-‘
But he wanted to stay.
‘Si. ‘
He lied.
‘Bueno’, ‘Star snakes a hand around his waist and draws him closer, _‘Te deseo.’_
_Oh._
‘Star’s mouth plays softly against his as their legs tangle beneath the sheets. Julio stifles a moan as ‘Star kisses his way down his neck.
He’d slip back into his room before Dom made her morning rounds. He’d endure Shatty’s despondent looks during training- he had before. ‘Star always forgave him.
He hoped this wouldn’t be the exception. | fc0c84778f1e4b1db100fdb0b8dd32de | ['d2b0a1df97354a76844750ef750931a1'] |
Death is a Temporary Affliction
Pete Wisdom had a pounding headache. It was his own fault, really. He should know better than to try to out drink bloody Braddock. But he’d been in a particularly foul mood the night before and getting completely pissed with a few of his mates sounded better than pausing to think about things. She was dating someone new- that cocky ice bloke. Wazzat? Snow-Man or something? He couldn’t keep track of all of Xavier’s skintights. Pete didn’t know him but he hated him on principle.
He wasn’t even sure why the knowledge bothered him. Perhaps because she’d managed to move on and he’d…well, mostly he worked. And he drank. He had one night stands with women he didn’t give a hang about (and the feeling was undoubtedly mutual). He’d gotten home somehow- though the details were fuzzy. If he had to guess, he was probably flown there. Having woken up actually tucked into bed and not still wearing his tie, _well_ , Brian could be a bit of a mother hen about these things.
Right. Aspirin then. Pete pulled on some relatively clean clothes and regarded his disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was a bit greasy and he needed a shave, but, what else was new? He brushed his teeth because it tasted as if something died in there. Now the only thing on his mind was a greasy breakfast and some strong coffee. Having cooking skills that were limited to boiling water and pouring brandy he’d have to drag himself outside if he wanted to eat.
Off to the nearest greasy spoon then. It was Saturday and still quite early if Pete’s watch was to be trusted. He’d line his stomach with something sufficiently artery clogging and then meet up with Faiza at the office. No one who worked for MI-13 ever took a weekend off.
He was half way through his brisk walk, nose buried in his smartphone, a cigarette hanging from his lips when a voice snapped him out of his reverie.
‘Spare a light?’
Normally, Pete wouldn’t have stopped, but the flash of grey skin gave him pause. He turned in the direction of the voice. A very haggard young man was sitting on the street corner regarding him. He was clearly a mutant judging by the copious amounts of sagging grey skin, it bunched in the creases of his arms and made his fingers look abnormally long. Filthy black curls hung in his face almost covering the saddest pair of brown eyes Pete could ever remember seeing. He’d obviously been living on the streets for a while now if the layer of filth and the scraggly beard were any indication.
‘Yeah. Sure, mate’, he stuck his finger under the young man’s cigarette and set it alight.
He was rewarded small smile of acknowledgement and a weak ‘Thanks’. The kid’s hands shook when he smoked.
‘Right. Sure thing.’
Pete shouldn’t get involved. He just wanted some breakfast and he wanted this bloody Aspirin to stop his head from pounding. But he’d be damned if that kid didn’t look terribly familiar. Pete wasn’t one to forget a face- especially one as unique as this guy was sporting.
‘Hey, lissen’, he began cautiously, ‘S’probably none of my business but aren’t you one of Xavier’s kids?’
Then there was a light behind those sad brown eyes.
‘You-you know who I am?’ the kid seemed happy- thrilled even. Pete wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
‘Well, not _exactly_ ’, Pete studied the boy who suddenly seemed crestfallen ‘ Yer no Brit. How’d you end up in London?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Come again?’
‘Woke up in the hospital here a couple months ago.’ He paused, running those strangely long fingers through his matted hair. ‘I didn’t have no place to go. So, I’ve been on the streets ever since.’
‘What’s yer name then?’
The boy looked at him then, obvious misery on his face, ‘ I don’t remember that either.’
Bloody wonderful.
Pete sighed deeply, ‘Alwright. Great.’ He raked a hand across his face. He needed to stop leaving his flat. Clearly the universe was working against him.
Hopefully Faiza was in the office already. He’d need access to the X-Men’s files. It was too early for this sort of leg work. _And he was so hung over_. Pete typed away on his cellphone while the wretched grey mutant starred off into space.
‘Smile, mate’, Pete snapped a terribly unflattering photo of his bewildered companion and sent it to Faiza with a note that said ‘Find this mutant’.
‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody starving. You fancy some breakfast?’
•
The lot at the caff were going to hate him for this, but the poor kid looked like he hadn’t seen a proper meal in a month. He probably should have offered him a shower first, as a public service, but he’d been too damn hungry to care.
Besides a few curious glances from people Pete told to piss off, their shared breakfast was fine. The grey mutant ended up eating enough food for three people. Not that Pete could blame him, really. Life on the streets of London couldn’t have been easy.
Pete told him a few things about MI-13 and how he’d been a member of the Excalibur (twice) and how he knew the X-Men. The kid was mostly quiet, eating gratefully and nodding when he felt it was necessary. |
f4213d7fb05f4e3887c2b68f3728b8f3 | ['d2c594bc14f840589381739ffbbec629'] | “Ah, what can I say, it’s the Christmas cheer talking”, Jensen was grinning broadly. He could see how this charade was getting to Jared with every passing second, but he was missing him so much too. And it took a lot of his willpower to stop himself from reaching over and cleaning Jared’s face where he smeared a little bit of sauce or from putting back the stray hair that fallen on his face or just putting his hand on Jared’s when it rests on the table. Even though he would have to reach across Danneel to get to Jared. He was really rethinking this whole “let’s not sit next to each other so I won’t grope you in front of the whole family” deal. He knows it is worse for Jared. He couldn’t be here yesterday when the guests arrived (and Jared, like a good Texas boy he is, let them all stay in their house), that would just look weird, with how they’re "just friends" and all that. He got to Jared’s as early as he was able to today, so he could “help out with the dinner, ma'am”, especially since Genevieve is pregnant now. Her grandmother was cooing over him, what a good friend he is and so handsome and sweet while Jared was passing with clean plates to set the table in a dining room and stopped just for a second, putting his head on Jensen’s shoulder and said, “that he is grandma, that he is”. It was the first time Jared touched him beside the way way way too short hug he got upon arriving. And it made his heart take the roller coaster ride inside his chest, as if he was some teenage girl talking to her first crush. And they are grown ass men, they can go couple days without seeing each other but never like this, when the situation requires them to hide their relationship for extended period of time. It always took a lot from Jared. It wasn’t some social media post or even couple hours in front of the fans at the conventions or an interview. It was full on bearding. 24/7 exhausting acting. Being on your toes all the time, hoping nothing will slip out. And it was even worse this time, because usually they could be themselves behind closed doors, but this particular situation required them to be separated and Jared to be at the very front of the battle. Jared's parents and siblings visited as well as Genevieve’s mom and her step-dad.. They knew the truth and this Christmas would have looked differently if they were the only guests. But Genevieve and her mom invited their grandmother and aunts that were never let in on the true nature of their relationship. There were plans to just split up for Christmas, just so they would be on the safe side, but both were pretty reluctant about it. Jared had doubts about getting through these couple days pretending to be in a happy relationship with Genevieve without any problems and Jensen didn't want to leave him by himself to deal with the aftermath. Jared is working on his mental health constantly and he is getting better, slowly but surely, but pretending to be someone he is not is a huge part of his problems. They both knew what they were getting into, but sometimes it felt like they were a little in over their heads. Especially with the way it gets to Jared. Jensen still remembers that awful time around European conventions in 2015. It pained him so much to see his boy like this, spinning out of it. And then to let him leave and not be with him for another couple weeks was truly one of the worst times in Jensen's life. Jared has never deserved anything like this happen to him. He was one of the purest souls Jensen has ever met, always kind and loving and compassionate. And seeing this beautiful man struggling so much he always wondered at the injustice of the world.
They finished the coffees in comfortable silence, casually touching whenever they wanted, trying to make up for the lost time. They shared a slow long kiss just before they went back to the dining room where everyone was waiting. Even if it already is a dessert time it still going to be a long night. | af611756b9584e498c782ca50b271d33 | ['d2c594bc14f840589381739ffbbec629'] |
Safe in your arms again
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK, LINK.
> A gift for my lovely friends. They said the boys should definitely kiss at some point, so I made them kiss. :)
"Alright, I'm going to get some beer. Anyone wants some?," Sam asks standing up slowly. Donatello was making progress but there was still a long way before he deciphers all the ingredients needed for the spell. The beer was really just an excuse to leave the room for a while. Between Cas being back and them looking for sister Jo and Lucifer, he didn't really have time to process what happened exactly. And Sam can't believe it happened _again_. Lucifer was topside once more after they thought he was dealt with. Sam's recent talk with Rowena felt good, he hadn't really talked about it to anyone, about what happened with Lucifer in the cage, what exactly did he imagined Lucifer doing to him in his hallucinations, that every single time they met after that felt like being back in the cage terrified with crippling fear. He always pushed through it though. He played his role because he had to, for himself, his friends, the world. For _his_ world - Dean. And Dean helped immensely by being there right next to him for the most part. And even if Sam isn't the little Sammy anymore, the kid who believed that nothing bad will happen to him because his big brother is there to protect him, he still feels safer when Dean is around. Dean keeps him going and Sam makes himself move because he has to protect Dean too. He thought Lucifer is going to kill them both in that motel room today and if Dean dies on him again, Sam doesn't think he will be able to go on. Not this time, not anymore.
He shuffles to the kitchen and he realizes he doesn't even know if anyone wanted a beer, isn't even aware if anyone replied to him. He's standing next to the open fridge, the cold air cooling his face helping him focus back on here and now again. He closes his eyes, tries to calm his racing heart. Lucifer is _back_. Lucifer is back and he has his mojo back. At least some of it. He's back and he has a helper and Sam has memories of years upon years of Lucifer abusing him. He breaths in, counts to six and breaths out. Everything will be okay, it has to be. He has Dean, they have Cas, hell, they even have Ketch if they need him. Donatello will help them get mom and Jack back. They can fight Lucifer together, they did it before, they will do it again. Yeah, everything will be just fine.
Sam jumps a little when a warm hand touches his on the fridge door handle. Only now he registers the cold hard metal of the handle and how it cuts into his hand. It actually hurts a little and when that warm hand pries his fingers off the handle softly he sees the white imprint of it in his palm. _Breath, Sam_. Sam lets out a long sigh and turns around straight into Dean's waiting arms. He buries his face in his most favorite place ever - Dean's neck - and breaths in. The unique smell of Dean, the smell he always associated with the sense of home and belonging and love was the only thing that was able to calm Sam down anytime without the exception. Dean puts one of his arms around Sam's waist squeezing him tightly and the other into his hair, bringing his brother even closer. He kisses the side of Sam's head, rocking them gently from side to side while Sam tries to calm down.
"I wanted to ask if you're okay, but that seems a bit redundant now," Dean whispers into Sam's ear. It earns him a small sad chuckle, that he feels more in the puff of warm air on his neck than actually hears.
"I am so far away from okay, Dean," Dean instinctively hugs Sam tighter.
"You know we will get it done, right? We always do."
"I know, I just... When Cas said that... That _he_ 's back I didn't want to believe it but then there he was, in a flesh and with powers. And I- I don't know. I feel like I've been underwater ever since we've heard he's back."
"Sammy, listen... I know this is hard for you, I don't know half the things that happen between the two of you, but what I do know... Well, that's awful enough. But I also know that if there's anyone who can get through this it's you. You are the strongest person I know. Even dad wasn't as strong as you, nor is mom. You've been down lately and I worry so much about you all the time, but I also know that we have a real shot at saving mom and Jack and with Jack on our side we can lock Lucifer away for good or better yet, kill him. We can do this, we know stuff now that we didn't know before. And you are not alone. I am here for you, always. Okay? And I am not letting anyone or anything hurt you again".
Sam nods vigorously, his cold nose tickling Dean's neck, he is still holding Dean's flannel for dear life. Of course he knows Dean is there for him. He knows that with the good plan they can kill Lucifer. He _knows_ but the thing about fear is, it’s hardly ever rational.
"I know," Sam stands up straight, looking into Dean's eyes, "I know. It's just all so terrifying right now."
"Let's get you to bed, okay?", says Dean and without waiting for the answer he takes Sam's hand leads him to his bedroom, "You will sleep it off and we can make plans tomorrow."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep now. Maybe I should get back and help you guys".
"Oh, I don't think so, buddy. We are taking a shower and we are going to bed and I'm gonna help you fall asleep".
They make it to the shower room after quick detour to their room for sleep pants. Dean helps Sam out of his clothes even if he doesn't have to, but Sam knows this is Dean dealing with whatever is wrong with Sam, taking care of him anyway he can. Hot water feels amazing on Sam’s skin and Dean’s hands washing his hair feel incredible. Sam sighs, turning his face to the shower head and leaning his back on Dean’s broad chest. Dean keeps kissing his neck and shoulders, murmuring comforting nothings into his skin. After a while Sam turns around and pins Dean to the wall, kissing him hot and deep. Their hips start moving against each other of their own accord, water and soap smoothing the way.
After they are done and the evidence of their love making is washed away they step out of the shower in comfortable silence, passing the towels and sleep pants around. They shuffle to their bedroom quietly and if their companions wonder where they disappeared to, they don’t care enough to come looking for them. Sam feels calmer, like he finally got out of that water and he can breath again. The fear is still there, shimmering under a cover of _Dean is here, everything is going to be okay,_ but as they make themselves comfortable in their bed laying side by side facing each other, Sam knows he will fall asleep soon. He will probably end up dreaming about cage again but that's okay, because when the nightmare wakes him up, he will be safe in his brother’s arms and still be able to breath. |
5b4261158a5c45eebcf6cd271d5e9487 | ['d2cecfa2729848edaaf939a70600bdb5'] | Always the Same Cat to Me
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote a (very short) drabble to stop me from posting a third chapter to my Revenge story in under a week.
> I'm actually quite proud of it.
> Let me know what you think!
“Marinette?” Tikki asked cautiously, hovering behind her chosen as she wrote calmly in her diary. “Are you okay?”
Marinette glanced back at her with a questioning smile. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well… what happened with Dark Owl today was a big deal. You two almost got caught, and you almost saw each other’s identities,” Tikki reasoned, drifting over so she could settle on Marinette’s desk.
“But we didn’t,” Marinette replied, reaching out to rub Tikki’s head. “That’s all that matters.”
“Weren’t you at least curious?” Tikki pressed, floating back up again so she could look Marinette in the face.
“Not particularly,” she admitted with a shrug, laughing at the shocked expression on Tikki’s face. “Tikki, Chat Noir is my best friend. He’s probably closer to me than even Alya. I know I can trust him with my identity, someday in the future, but for now I’m just content to be Chat Noir and Ladybug. I like that I can be myself around him, and I like that he can be himself around me. I like that we can banter and argue as much as we want, but also know that, at the end of the day, we’d die for each other. There’s a sort of easiness that comes with just being Chat Noir and Ladybug. There’s no strings attached. And before you say anything, I know that he won’t be disappointed that I’m Marinette. He’s too kind for that. I know that I won’t be disappointed when I found out who he is, either, but for now I think I’m happier not knowing. When it really boils down to it, it doesn’t actually _matter_ who Chat Noir is behind the mask, because he’s always going to be Chat Noir to me.” Marinette explained.
Tikki smiled at Marinette, reaching a hand out to place it on the girl’s nose.
“I’m proud to call you my Ladybug, Marinette.”
**Author's Note:**
> I sometimes feel that Marinette gets pinned as super insecure and anxious, largely because of her crush on Adrien. The rest of the time it seems like her only reason is so that no one finds out who she is, but I think I think she knows Chat Noir wouldn't tell. In my humble opinion, Marinette loves the relationship she has with Chat Noir too much to want to jeopardize it with names and identities. She doesn't want either of them to feel like they have to act a certain way or be a certain person. As much as she pretends to hate Chat Noir's puns, she wouldn't trade them for the world and doesn't want Chat to feel like he has to give them up to fit the role of his civilian self. At the end of the day, Ladybug loves Chat Noir for who he is, and it doesn't matter who is behind the mask, because he's always going to be her Chat Noir. Tikki is very proud that her Ladybug feels this way. | ae9fe2a583df47e2a416fe66cf659b01 | ['d2cecfa2729848edaaf939a70600bdb5'] | “Shut up, Chloe! Don’t listen to her, Marinette. She’s just a spoiled brat,” Alya announced, putting her hand on Marinette’s shoulder.
Marinette yanked away from Alya, backing away from the crowd of students.
Chloe laughed. “Wow, Alya. It must hurt to be rejected by Marinette of all people.”
“Oh my god!” Lila yelled, eyes wide as the realization hit her. The entire class turned to face her, and she laughed in disbelief. “Marinette, do you know who Alya is?”
Marinette brushed her hair from her face. “S-should I?”
2. New Beginnings
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Marinette Dupain-Cheng returns to school, and Lila has an epiphany.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you notice any grammatical or spelling errors, please let me know so I can fix them! I was too excited to wait to post this... so it's published now. Chapter 3 is complete and under revision! If you want a "spoiler," it's called Facade. I wonder who that could be about....
“Okay, class. Quiet down for a moment, please,” Mrs. Bustier called, her hands folded over her stomach. “I have an announcement to make.”
The class slowly stopped whispering and turned its attention to the front of the room. They all sat on the edge of their seats, their full concentration on what the teacher was going to say, for once. They all knew that today was a big day, and they were all anxious to hear her speak.
“As I’m sure you all know, Marinette Dupain-Cheng will be returning today. Her doctor felt that the best thing that she could do right now is return to a familiar environment and schedule, because familiar things may help bring her memories back. It’s important that you know that Marinette’s memories may not return, and if they do, they may not come any time soon, or all at once. Since her last memories appear to be from two years ago, she doesn’t remember everyone in here. Adrien, Lila and Alya, this applies to you, especially; we must be patient with her. No one here is to get angry with her for this. She can’t control it. We also need to be careful not to stress her out too much. This is very important. Does everyone understand?”
Satisfied with the nods and quiet confirmations she got as a response, Mrs. Bustier opened the door.
The entire class seemed to sit up straighter as Marinette walked in. She had some bruises and scratches left, and a scar across her forehead, but otherwise she looked the same as always. Lila drummed her fingers on the desk lazily as Marinette stopped at the front of the room and cleared her throat.
“So, um. I realize that this is probably weird for a lot of you. It’s weird for me, too… but my doctor is almost certain that my memory will return if I spend time in environments I’m familiar with and with people I knew. I apologize in advance for not knowing a few of you, but I guess you can see it as an opportunity to start fresh with me. My only request is that you don’t take that previous statement too seriously and try to convince me that you’re a completely different person than I knew you as,” Marinette said with a laugh.
The entire room seemed to relax at Marinette’s light-hearted take on the situation, and Lila heard a few laughs that were probably more of relief than humor.
Lila watched as Marinette took her spot next to Alya, leaning in to listen to their conversation.
“Hi. I’m Alya, your best friend,” Alya whispered.
“I figured as much. I have pictures of you all over my room,” Marinette whispered back, giggling.
Lila drummed her fingers on the desk lightly, before gasping softly.
Marinette had requested that they try not to convince her that they were a different person, and that gave Lila a wonderful idea.
If Marinette couldn’t remember anything from the past two years, then she couldn’t remember being Ladybug. That meant that Lila could fake being her friend so that she could steal her miraculous!
It was a perfect plan! She could finally get the recognition and attention that she deserved, and it would be a great way to gain popularity among her fellow students! At the same time, she could fake being friends with Marinette, the widely-loved class rep, and steal all her friends from her, while swiping her only redeemable quality out from under her nose.
Lila thought of how devastated sweet little Marinette would look when Lila finally had her Miraculous in her clutches, and her heart soared.
This would be fantastic.
* * *
Someone cleared their throat, and Lila glanced over her shoulder. Marinette stood behind her, pink-faced and smiling eagerly. Lila finished packing up her bag and removed it from her locker, slinging it over her shoulder. She closed the door and faced Marinette fully, giving her an expectant look.
Marinette smiled at her. “H-hey… Lila, right? I’m Marinette, and I—you already know that, don’t you? Sorry. Hard to remember that I’m the only one who lost my memory. W-well, anyways, um… I wanted to say thank you for digging me out of the rubble. I remember you saving me, and it means a lot to me,” Marinette stuttered, twisting her hands together. “From what I can gather from all the pictures I have, we were never friends before, but I really hope we can be friends now!”
Lila was remembering how she’d shut Marinette down before, and she longed to do it again. Unfortunately, that would make her plan nearly impossible, so she plastered a false, sheepish smile on her face. “You want to be friends with me?” she whispered. “Really?”
Marinette looked taken aback. “Of course!” |
cfb81fbeb72241ff85091c122722903b | ['d2e040b6f97f44dcb66584f87fbd4ac6'] | Ticket to Ride
**Author's Note:**
> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at LINK, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on LINK.
Ticket to Ride by A. Leigh-Anne Childe
29-Oct-97
Short Story Challenge
Note: Written for the short-story challenge. Yes, I'm driven, demented, addicted. 500 words. Archive only if you fix bad line wraps. No, I'm *not* kidding. These delicate, amazing, woodland creatures are being kept penned and deprived of homoerotic release by Sir Christopher Carter, upon whose land I have wantonly trodden. NC-17 for sex and whatnot. I am, by the way, using this challenge as an opportunity to do many things I've only bad-dreamed of doing. I have, for this occasion, used a song title, a bad pun, a squickening sexual scenario, and an Elvis reference. I think this must be my homage to Ethan.
* * *
Ticket to Ride
by A. Leigh-Anne Childe ()
"Did you see that NCIC fax about the Rosedale Ripper, leaving sequins and photoluminescent silica gel in his victims' wounds--cut in the form of unknown hieroglyphics?"
"Not now, Mulder."
"You don't think that has 'X-File' written all over it?"
"Stuff it."
"You'll have to get off, if you want that."
"I'm *trying* to get off," Alex said through gritted teeth. He bit Mulder's shoulder and grabbed his hands, locking them to the bedsheets.
Mulder sighed, pleased. "You read that *Post* article describing an Elvis sighting at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue--?"
Incensed, Alex pulled one hand away and felt around in the sheets for his weapon.
"Witnesses included the Deputy Attorney General--*oh*--"
"Like that?"
"How'd the egg-beater get in here?"
"I brought it, with nefarious intent."
"That does feel good. . .my hair's getting long."
Alex continued using the whisk like a comb. "Better than that fucking 80's punk do."
"Wasn't punk," Mulder mumbled into the pillow. "Stylist's fault, anyway." He turned his head on the pillow, reached his free hand for a piece of toast from the breakfast tray.
"Bastard," Alex said, whapping his wrist. "Eat while I fuck you?"
"Hmm. Punish me?" Eyes closing, Mulder smiled.
"Definitely." Alex leaned in, nuzzled Mulder's ear. "Around here, attitudes like yours get spanked."
"Ooh," Mulder purred approvingly. He wriggled. "More lube first, though."
"Prisoners have no say in their discipline." Alex tossed the whisk floorward, then shoved up onto his knees, rousing a muffled cry from his captive. Mulder's muscles rippled and his hands flexed. Withdrawing slightly, Alex hunted his cuffs, snapped them on his partner's wrists, forced Mulder to his knees, then began fucking him again roughly, stopping only once to snag his belt, which stretch delivered delicious torque to his penetrative cock. He couldn't deliver the blows to Mulder's ass without personal inconvenience, so he whipped the other's back instead, gradually increasing the force until Mulder shouted his pleasure and the tight channel of his ass flexed on Alex's cock with frantic, helpless pressure.
When, intuitively, he felt Mulder nearing orgasm, Alex grabbed both belt ends and drew the taut arc of leather into Mulder's mouth like a bridle bit. Unsurprisingly, Mulder came as soon as the leather filled his mouth. Alex rode out Mulder's climax, then took his own pleasure more leisurely, finishing several nerve-scorching minutes later. Uncuffing Mulder, he cuddled close.
"Wow," Mulder said dazedly. "I didn't see *that* in your resume."
"You saw my resume?"
"Um. . .no."
"Shithead. Bet you pulled my file day one."
"That's highly unethical. . .I think."
Alex snorted. "You think. I'd spank you again but my hand's tired."
Yawning, Mulder kissed Alex's jaw. "That belt's tired."
"Buy me a new one. You should."
"Gifts? I dunno, Alex. Wait 'til our anniversary."
"Yeah?" Alex's eyes narrowed, gleamed in the sunlight. "What's the first year gift?"
"Um, paper?"
Alex gave a painfully tight smile. "Buy me a ticket to ride, Mulder. Unlimited." Heart aching, he watched Mulder laugh with unstudied, unexpected sweetness.
"It's a deal, partner."
(End) | fc97f8434639431f82996f3222e329e7 | ['d2e040b6f97f44dcb66584f87fbd4ac6'] | . . .thank god for that. You know the embarrassment, and she would probably just give me a clinical, measuring look. Even the great Wilt would wilt a bit under that regard. Don't know what's with me. Must be the heat. Can't stop thinking about you. My hand on the back of your neck pulling your mouth in--you unshaven and I can't decide what I want more, my cock in your mouth or yours in mine--I wouldn't have to choose, except we're doing this in a stalled elevator (don't snort-- feed my fantasy). I'll let you decide. You'd put me on my knees, I think. And I'm thinking about how much I can get in, trying for all of it. Doing it on a hotel bed would be fine, better even, with a broken air- conditioner and it takes four hours to come. Then we pass out. I think I'm going to call you. . .
*
. . .wonders if you spank me, I think. Don't worry, I leave her wondering. Though I'm sure she'd approve. That guy she mentioned, by the way, don't mention him. Kaput. She won't say, but I think he fondled too fast. I offered to beat him up, but she declined. I think you were right about not giving her a pack of batteries. Her sense of humor isn't always reliable, and I don't look good in gauze. Foot is better. You sounded like shit on the phone. When are you going to get your fax fixed--I hate scrounging for postage--what would Kimberly say about billets doux from yours truly--there's always encryption, but. . .
*
. . .what you said about the deed. I don't know why I blew you off. Don't worry, my salaried hours are spent in the proper pursuit of justice. (My phantom wears Nikes, Scully says.) But after I got a good four hours in last night I thought a while about your offer. I hope you know it's not a question of commitment. Committal, now. . .just kidding. I think I'm going to retire that joke. Speaking of which, I guess-- [last five words scratched out]
*
. . .the consistency of glue. I won't describe the pie. Remind me to add this to my list of truck-stop ratings--at the bottom. Gotta go. [...] It's later; we're here. Tried to call you, got the machine. Sound of your voice made me hard. [naughty drawing here] We're off to the gravesite tomorrow a.m. Heavy rain expected. Joy. Good to see Cooper again. Always nice to hook up with one's fellow pariahs, compare notes. Also to know I'm not the strangest dog in the pack--kid on the block. I have to love this guy--don't take that wrong--he has recently discovered himself to be the reincarnation of Berthold Schwarz, a fourteenth century German monk reputed to have invented gunpowder--we had an interesting conversation. I know you'd. . .
*
. . .quick note. Lobster traps--knew you'd appreciate that. No snow yet. I like this place. No desolation, just quietude. Think cottage--??? I'm closer to a decision. A change of pace is looking better all the time. [writing begins to get much tinier] Want a hausfrau? No windows, but I give great head. Will this slip past the postal censors, I wonder. . .love you. ..weekend likely. . .Fox
End. |
85deef634c0b4f86bda80377c6c4eaf6 | ['d334387e9bf744c3b0f99f328fdb2b89'] |
Wake-up Call
Even in his haze, Jimin deplores how difficult it is to find the emergency number among internet search results. It should have appeared at the top, in bold characters. Made clickable, even. Then again, if there’s a number he should have memorised, it’s this one.
He takes another sip of his drink before he dials. There’s an automated greeting followed by quite a long wait that should irritate him, but neither register.
‘Emergency services.’
The lady sounds weary. Jimin can't blame her, it _is_ two in the morning.
‘Hello, I, huh… sorry to disturb you but- there's- I think I should report some things- that have happened, huh, recently... and not recently too…’
‘What is your location, sir? Are you or people around you in danger?’
‘Ah, no, there's nobody here.’ He made sure of that before picking his hiding spot. ‘I- I'm not in danger.’
‘Nobody is in immediate danger?’
‘No, no.’
‘Sir, this is the emergency line so I'm going to have to transfer you. Hold the phone.’
The waiting tune drowns Jimin's ‘sorry’ out. He pokes at the glass between his sprawled legs—it still holds the warmth of his palm. It was stupid to call the emergency line. It’s for emergencies only, he’s learned that in middle school. It's in the damn name. He gets whole songs and dance routines down within hours but basic, life-saving instructions are still beyond his capacities.
The tune stops and the line crackles again.
‘Gangnam police listening service, you're speaking to officer Min Yoongi, how can I help you?’
The voice is a rough baritone with an unhurried rhythm that fills Jimin right ear until it’s swollen. Tingles take roots there and bloom all over his scalp. He forgets he ever entertained the idea of hanging up.
‘Sir or madam, if you cannot speak please tap your finger on the microphone once.’
‘N-no I can talk,’ Jimin whispers.
‘How can I help you, sir?’
You could talk me to sleep every night, maybe I'd finally get some then, Jimin thinks. ‘I- I- do you know who I am?’
‘I'm afraid not, sir. Should I assume you’re a public figure?’
‘No, I’m- err... I mean, can you see my phone number?’
‘Your anonymity is guaranteed by the police department. This call is recorded but is only accessible by select force members and solely in case your safety or others’ requires it. You can speak freely, sir.’
‘Yeah… okay.’ Jimin sighs. The tingles have dulled but his ear is still pulsing along with the raspy words.
‘Sir, if you don't mind me asking, are you inebriated?’
Before Jimin answers, he weighs whether or not it’d be bad if he admitted that he is. He struggles to keep count of the pros and cons.
‘It's all right if you are. I see you've been transferred from emergency, but if you are not safe let me know your location and my colleagues will come to you.’
Jimin looks around the swirling recording room he’s locked himself in. It’s safer than going back to his apartment where his manager is probably waiting to give him a second dressing down.
‘Sir, are you safe?’
The police officer sounds so earnest it makes Jimin uncomfortable. There’s nothing that warrants such concern.
‘Sir?’
It’s close to a purr in Jimin’s ear. His body is a bag of cotton balls. ‘I'm safe,’ he murmurs back. He means it. ‘I uh- I'm calling because- I've witnessed an assault.’
‘Sir-’
‘No, no, wait,’ Jimin can’t help but interrupt. ‘It was a long time ago. Actually, it wasn't one- it wasn't- it was many assaults. And touching. Bad touching, you know? On many people. And coerx- cortion… ah…’
‘Coercion?’ the policeman supplies. The throbbing inside Jimin’s ear almost tickles.
‘Yeah, that. You know, maybe- maybe you should do the talking...’
‘I’d prefer if you continued, sir. I would like to listen to you some more.’
‘Huh, really?’
‘Very much so.’
‘Mmokay. Huh, yeah, coercion and err… starving people till they faint, and pimping them out… and- I've seen it- ever since I was training, already. It's- it's mainly the girls and they never touched me badly, they just said “you've got to do this”, “you’ve got to lose weight”, “you've got to do something about your nose”, “you've got to- you've got to…” But that's fine, that's not illegal, I think, it's just how it is, it's business. But I… tonight they- he- it happened to me and now I'm calling the police.’ Jimin laughs humorlessly. ‘I guess as long as it wasn't me I was fine with it.’
‘Sir, you have witnessed several people hurt in the past and you were hurt yourself tonight. Is that correct?’
‘Yuh-yeah.’ Jimin gulps the remainder of his drink and sags against the wall. ‘You wouldn’t believe how- how much I had to drink... before I could do it...’ Oops, now the officer knows. How long before he writes him off as a fabulating drunkard?
‘Thank you for having to courage to come forward. Where are you hurt?’
‘You mean thank you- thank you for having looked the other way for years.’
‘Sometimes looking the other way is the only thing we can manage to do and it's all right. Thank you for managing to do more tonight. I would like to send a police car to pick you up, would that be okay?’
‘... Mmh? Huh, no. Don't send anyone. I don't even… know what I'm doing.’
There’s a pause before the officer speaks again. ‘How badly hurt are you?’
‘M’fine, s’nothing. Nobody likes whiners,’ Jimin mumbles.
‘People who downplay their injuries don’t fare much better.’
There was an argument on the tip of Jimin’s tongue that his parents would have been proud to hear him recite. It must have fallen off the edge.
‘All right, then here is what I suggest we do: for the next hour, let's forget about age and be friends, you and I.’ | 3f2d84a3b1a44eb9b9318d31f97a7af3 | ['d334387e9bf744c3b0f99f328fdb2b89'] |
“‘Little Jungkookie’?” Jungkook snorts back. “Have you seen yourself? Next you're going to pretend that you've got a bigger dick than me or something.”
Hoseok audibly gasps and Seokjin shrieks Jungkook's name in horror.
One too many
**Author's Note:**
> As usual, thank you LINK for being my guinea pig.
>
> Warning: English is not my first language. Kindly notify me if you find any mistake! (Or if you're native and are interested in beta'ing for me... at this point, I'm ready to pay an hourly rate and everything.)
It’s Thursday night, they’ve just come back from their manager’s favorite barbecue restaurant and now they’re having a post-concert tour party in the dorm because god forbid that they create a riot—and most certainly shady scandal articles—in some bar. They're all gathered in the living room, sitting around the coffee table in various levels of acceptable position, and playing a drinking card game that Namjoon has learned from a tour crew member. It's going suspiciously well so far but they will probably switch to karaoke soon because Taehyung and Hoseok are getting a bit restless.
Most of them are barely tipsy but the night is still young and Seokjin is pouring a third serving of soju shots so there's no doubt that it will be a good one. Hoseok’s face is already shining red and they all dissolve in laughter at the slightest excuse of a joke so they should be blind drunk in about an hour. Unless Taehyung demands that they go sudden death mode again.
The jokes slowly morph into good-natured teasing and of course Jungkook can't fall behind on that. At some point, Seokjin and Jimin seem to think that it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine and poke some fun back at him. It’s all fun and games, really.
“Well, let me tell you- I wasn't going to tell you but-” Seokjin sputters, exaggerating his offended tone for comical effect, “but I actually have two pairs and if this round had lasted longer I would have crushed you! Hah!”
“C’mon Jungkook, just admit you can't bluff and try to show some respect to your hyungs,” Jimin smiles after laughing so much he has to lean on Seokjin’s side.
It's all fun and games, really, until Jungkook takes it too far.
“First, you'd have to start looking like a hyung,” Jungkook says airily, like it’s none of his business.
Jimin barely scoffs, more than used to Jungkook’s disrespect of the two years that separate them, but if he wants it to change someday he can't just let it slide. He is tempted to give up and ignore him entirely, not even bothering with a pointed look and a frown, because it is all getting so repetitive and devoid of any sense after more than five years of playing the same game. But he will humor Jungkook again tonight, will add some piquant to it even, and hopefully sometime soon the younger boy will finally give it a rest.
“Hey, Jeon Jungkook, don't forget that I learned to walk before you could even hold your head upright!”
Chuckles erupt from all around the table. They spur Jimin on, as well as the few fruit flavored soju shots he's already had.
“My balls dropped well before yours, huh? Don't forget that!” he adds in mock threat, eyebrows raised and eyes uncharacteristically wide open. He looks like a drunk uncle for a second, before reverting back to his usual round cheeks and sleepy eyes that disappear even further under his lids as he laughs along with the other members.
“Are you sure? Looks more like you don't have any balls to begin with,” Jungkook says, a smirk on his face.
The laughs dwindle down. Taehyung is staring at Jungkook with his mouth agape.
“Hey-” Yoongi starts.
“Waah, little Jungkookie is getting bold!” Jimin interrupts, smiling good-naturedly. He hopes that will dissipate the premises of the sticky situation that is sure to develop if they don't tone it down. Never drink and argue.
“‘Little Jungkookie’?” Jungkook snorts back. “Have you seen yourself? Next you're going to pretend that you've got a bigger dick than me or something.”
Hoseok audibly gasps and Seokjin shrieks Jungkook's name in horror.
“Get yourself some backbone, then we'll talk,” Jungkook concludes. The words are almost mumbled, but the music playing on Hoseok’s speaker is not loud enough to cover them.
Jungkook—bare faced, round-eyed, fluffy-haired Jungkook—spouting such hurtful words shocks them all into silence. Himself included, it seems, because his smirk disappears the moment he finishes his sentence.
“Enough,” Yoongi firmly says, first to regain his wits. “Apologize.”
“M’sorry,” Jungkook shrugs, looking into his small shot glass. “Hyung,” he adds after a beat and a disapproving look from Seokjin.
They all turn to Jimin, who feels hot and ashamed. Jungkook just had his point proven, hasn't he? He couldn't even fight his own fight and was so floored by Jungkook's behavior that Yoongi had to put an end to it in his place. What can he do now? Jungkook has already apologized so he can’t get mad or it will look like he wants to drag the dispute and confrontation is pretty far up on the list of things he prefers to avoid.
He actually doesn't even want to get mad, he feels more hurt than angry. Because, well, there is truth in their youngest member’s words, a bit too much to his liking even. But, more than anything, the fact that Jungkook could humiliate him like this in front of the whole group leaves his throat tight and his eyes prickly. He's not sure what got into the boy but he doesn’t want it to ever happen again. And since Jungkook seems to be fueled by his pushing back, he settles for apathy.
“S’fine,” he says, rolling his eyes a bit. “That's too much testosterone for you.” |
2cb727173cbc4fcbb583d71f87a94c10 | ['d34284dd695a43bd9494a6d1a66fdf57'] | Max chuckled at the look of shock on Charles’ face. “I don’t bite, mate. No matter what the media says.” It was clear Charles still wasn’t entirely comfortable around him. Max didn’t blame him. They were predicted to be the next big rivals, the future of Formula One. It was natural for Charles to be wary.
“Do you think Kimi is mad at me?” Charles stared out the window, an unreadable look on his face.
Max was thrown off-guard. That was not a question he’d been expecting. It was complicated. Obviously, Kimi was going to be disappointed to no longer be fighting for podiums, but the Finn had to have seen his replacement as inevitable.
“No of course not. He may just miss being in the same team as Sebastian.”
Charles winced, Max’s response reminding him of his dream. “Yeah, I’m sure he will…”
Max could tell that he wasn’t going to get much more out of Charles, the Monegasque clearly lost in thought. Carefully so as not to disturb his distressed guest, he stood up from the couch and made his way back to his bedroom. One last glance over his shoulder showed Charles still staring out over the water, knees tucked up to his chest. Max let out a heavy sigh and flopped down on his bed, sleep immediately washing over him.
* * *
A loud banging on the door roused Charles from where he had dozed off. The knocking continued and Max didn’t seem to be coming so he decided to see who it was. A quick look through the peephole revealed a certain smiley Australian to be the source of the noise.
Charles suddenly realized he was lacking a shirt. Not wanting to leave Daniel waiting any longer he pulled his blanket tight around him and opened the door.
Daniel almost dropped the cartons of food he was holding when the door open. For the briefest of seconds, he had mistaken Charles for Jules. Without any team or sponsor clothing on the similarities between the two were striking. In that moment, when the door had opened, Charles had looked exactly like Jules had when they’d both been out to late and ended up crashing in each other’s rooms. Suddenly aware that he was still standing there, Daniel coughed awkwardly and stepped into the apartment. Max never minded when he dropped by and Charles didn’t strike him as one to argue.
The look on Daniel’s face was familiar to Charles. The Australian looked like he had seen a ghost. Deciding not to go down that treacherous conversation path, which only promised heartbreak, Charles turned his back to Daniel and plopped down by his bag.
“I’m pretty sure Max isn’t up yet” he informed Daniel while rummaging around for a non-team branded shirt. “I just woke up.”
Daniel arched a quizzical eyebrow at that. It was nearly noon. The Australian had brought food over for the three of them to eat lunch. He for one was starving, having powered through a grueling training session earlier.
“We can let lazy bones sleep. You, on the other hand, need to eat.” He poked Charles good-naturedly in the side. “ ’Cuz I know it’s been at least a day.” Daniel turned and started unpacking in the kitchen, not bothering to wait for a response.
Charles stood and watched Daniel for a minute as the older driver bustled around in the kitchen. The amount of noise the Australian made was impressive. Max’s ability to sleep through it, even more so. It was nice, Charles thought, having Daniel around. Kind of like having his older brother there, except he could talk to Daniel about the pressure cooker environment that was F1 because the Australian lived in the chaotic storm too.
Charles had thought he could weather any storm, but right now it felt like he had capsized and was floundering in the sea, waves crashing around him. But then out of the gale of his despair came two very unlikely saviors. Two Red Bull drivers had pulled him up and into their lifeboat. They had saved him and asked nothing in return. At least not so far.
A bowl plonking down in front of him jolted Charles from his thoughts. Daniel had set down a freshly prepared salad mixed with fruits, quinoa, and chicken.
“I feel like my mum. Eat!” The Australian ruffled Charles' hair and was pleased to see that the younger driver didn’t flinch away.
Charles waited until Daniel settled across from him and then picked up a fork. The two ate quietly for a minute or two before Daniel spoke.
“How are you doing, Charles?” The humorous tone had disappeared completely, replaced with one of sincerity and concern.
The driver in question stared at his salad, dragging around a piece of lettuce. “Better, I guess.”
“That’s good.” Daniel paused for a second. “You’ll probably want to get some ice on the bruises though.”
Charles didn’t respond but Daniel hadn’t really expected him too. The Monegasque was clearly aching both on the inside out. Cuts and bruises faded over time with little effort, but psychological injuries took much more delicate care. Daniel wasn’t worried about Charles being physically ready for the next race in a little over a week. No, Daniel was worried about how Charles would react when he was forced back into the unsympathetic frenzy. If Daniel had to guess, he would guess that Charles would compartmentalize and throw himself so completely into finishing the rest of the season on a high that he would never take the time to address the trauma he was clearly dealing with. | 8507dc4066924627ae8fe58eb030bf37 | ['d34284dd695a43bd9494a6d1a66fdf57'] | Kimi arrived next to Sebastian’s side. He too froze for a minute, taken aback. “Lay him down” the Fin ordered gesturing towards the couch in the center of the room. “Someone needs to have a look at him.”
Max nodded jerkily before depositing the Sauber driver on the couch. Lewis shifted awkwardly in the back. The Ferrari drivers’ attention was focused solely on the protégé. The Brit wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay. Sebastian seemed to sense his uncertainty and briefly turned towards Lewis.
“If you are going to stay don’t just stand there” snapped the German from where he kneeled next to Charles. “Sit down Lewis, you too Max. We’re in for a long night.”
Max slunk over to an armchair that sat slightly in the shadows. This is so not how he expected to spend the night, but he was too involved to back out now.
Sebastian glanced down at the still Sauber driver. “I can’t tell how extensive his injuries are.” The German hesitated a moment before continuing. “Kimi help me get his shirt off.” The Finnish driver frowned before moving to aid his teammate. Sebastian began to undo the rest of his buttons while the Fin lifted Charles’s torso in order to slip off his shirt.
Just as Seb slid off his button-down Charles began to stir. Lewis and Max watched on tenterhooks from the sidelines. The Sauber driver was coming to. It was only a matter of time before he woke up.
Seb lay a hand softly on Charles’s shoulder in a comforting matter, shaking him gently. “Charles?” he queried. “Can you hear me?”
Charles mumbled something softly under his breath, brow now begging to furrow. Suddenly the Monegasque’s eyes flew open, staring directly at Sebastian but seeming to look right through the Ferrari driver.
“Charles?!” Sebastian exclaimed taken aback by the sudden change. The Monegasque’s breath was picking up pace. He appeared to be entering some sort of panic attack.
Kimi reached out a hand to help Charles but as soon as the Finn extended his arm Charles scrambled backwards and proceeded to fall of the couch, clutching his shirt to his battered chest.
“No!” gasped the Monegasque, now basically catatonic. “Ne me touche pas!” His shoulders shook as he pushed himself up against the wall trying to come to grips with what was happening.
Kimi and Seb exchanged shocked glances before kneeling down to Charles’s level in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.
“Come on Charles” said Sebastian soothingly as he and Kimi slowly lifted him up. “It’s ok. It’s all over now”
Charles for his part, did not appear to register Sebastian’s words. As soon as Kimi and Sebastian made contact with him he fought against their grip desperately. In a stronger state he may have been able to pull away but in his weakened condition he only succeeded in doubling over. A guttural sob escaped him as he felt two pairs of hands on his bare torso.
Kimi’s heart broke as he and Sebastian slowly lifted Charles up off the floor against his will. Someone would have thought they were dragging Charles to his execution with the way he fought. He felt Charles’s nails drag slowly down his torso as the Monegasque’s adrenaline faltered.
Lewis stood frozen in stunned silence. It wasn’t until Charles let out an almost animalistic howl of sorrow and pain, pushing desperately against Sebastian before crumpling into the Ferrari driver’s arms that he spoke.
“Jesus Christ” He had never seen someone absolutely fall apart in the way Charles just had.
Max just sat in his chair, staring unblinking at the weakly shaking form of the Sauber driver in Sebastian’s arms.
Several tear drops fell from Sebastian’s eyes as he looked down at his future teammate he currently clutched to his chest. Charles, always charming and well-spoken, had been reduced to a quivering mess. It made the German’s blood boil and run old at the same time.
“I’m getting Arrivabene or Binotto in here now” Kimi informed the shocked group, unable to tear his eyes off the quaking Sauber driver.
The room was deathly quiet. The silence only occasionally punctured by a miserable sob from Charles as he continued to cry softly into Sebastian’s chest.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So sorry for taking so long. Life got a little crazy. But here's the second chapter. I promise (PROMISE) that things get better from here. I don't know how long it will be but I guarantee an eventual happy ending. Apologies again!!
3. Debate and Deliberation
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So sorry it's taken so long! I've been traveling and it just so hard to write on the road. Now I'm home and should update more regularly. Thank you to everyone who commented. Your appreciation really motivates me! Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!
“Someone should call the police”
“That’s up to him, we have to wait”
“Jesus when is he gonna wake up, he’s been out forever”
“Fuck! I need some air”
“Go I’ll stay here”
Charles stirred, slowly waking to the sound of voices. He could pick out Seb’s voice. The German not exactly quiet. The others were more hushed, and Charles found it too much of an effort to identify them. At the sound of a door closing harshly, he opened his eyes.
He was in a hotel room, his he thought. It was hard to tell. He could feel a cool compress on his neck and a plaster on his face. Charles' stomach turned slightly when he realized someone had changed him into sweats. The thought of hands on him while he was unconscious made him want to cry. Cautiously the Monegasque pushed himself to a partial sitting position in order to get a better view of his environment. And found himself face to face with Max Verstappen, the Dutchman having just looked up from his phone. |
77a4d7895bee4ad999fd233b708a779f | ['d37e062861ae4d2aa960428f5aa6e6d7'] |
1. Chapter 1
The new Supreme Leader was nothing if he wasn't dramatic. Hux supposed that was inevitable considering his lineage. His grandmother and grandfather had both been prone to theartic displays of politics and power. True to his maternal heritage, Lord Ren wore the full regalia of Naboo royalty, up to and including the elaborate makeup whereby he bore the scar of remembrance across his full bottom lip. It made the man, already striking by any galactic measure, even more so.
Hux didn’t know Lord Ren personally, though he would most like to for diplomatic reasons.
What he did know was that Ren had no problem in the spotlight. His vanity and surety before the galaxy had caught Hux off guard almost as much as his rise to power. It had been swift and unforeseen.
Supreme Leader Snoke had ruled the galaxy for many years and though there had been whispers of an apprentice, one powerful with the dark side, no one had ever laid eyes upon him.
Even now, Hux did not know for sure that Kylo Ren had been Snoke’s apprentice. It served to reason that he had and that he had also orchestrated the Supreme Leader’s recent demise. If the rumours were to be believed, he had likely killed Snoke with his own hand. In any case, the new Supreme Leader had taken hold of the reins with an iron fist and had proceeded to exact loyalty from system after system, starting with Coruscant and working outward from the Core along the Corellian Run. Those who refused to join on his terms lay smouldering at his feet.
The sheer cunning one must possess left Hux in awe. By any measure, it was a stunning, unanticipated victory.
Hux did not like surprises so he had decided to act. He’d come to Denon under the guise of Ambassador to Arkanis, his sole purpose to secure a peaceful, perhaps even lucrative, treaty with Lord Ren and avoid any possibility of bloodshed for his people. Though Ren’s forces had only just reached the edges of Tinnel, Hux thought it prudent to get as far out ahead of the new ruler’s war path as possible.
He’d been on-planet two days and had yet to even catch the Supreme Leader’s eye. Not surprising considering the thick ring of suitors that clung to him like a damp, desperate fog. Other, weaker men gathered around Ren, clawing for the smallest scraps of mercy.
Armitage Hux did not _cling_ to anyone. So he waited, and he watched. Eventually, his drink and his hyper-vigilance began to catch up with him. His attention strayed from following the Supreme Leader to engaging in the activity nearest to himself.
_I don’t know why I get so worked up. It’s a party._
Bodies pressed against him, flesh warm and cold, smooth and rough. It all suddenly became too much. His skin prickled and he willed himself to breathe deep while he pushed his way through the crowd toward the outer edge.
Cool air greeted him as he broke through. It helped to clear his head and recentre him. The hour had grown late and Hux was no closer to a meeting than he had been the day he landed. There would be no further opportunities for an audience with Lord Ren on this day and it allowed Hux a bit of time to otherwise entertain himself.
He let his focus wander to more mundane, carnal interests. Whether by chance or by design, there was enough variety of species and genders that one could indulge in anything and everything imaginable, if one so chose. Hux was a little more discriminating in his desires.
In his younger years, he'd had a long term love affair with a Twi'lek that had ended very badly. He hadn't been with one since. These days, he kept almost exclusively to humans, and never long enough to grow attached.
Tonight, a woman caught Hux's attention. Something about the way she moved intrigued him. Swirls of dark grey silk. Jewels glinted from the slim metal band she wore across her forehead. Silver laughs and electric smiles seemed just for him even if she never quite met his gaze. Though she was slight, she gave off a sense of power and danger. Hux found her intoxicating.
He circled ever closer, which wasn't difficult considering most who passed her by spared her no more than a fleeting glance, almost as though she were an illusion. He found himself drawn farther and farther from the central core of festivities as he chased after her.
At last, the crowd dwindled to a few sparse couples taking advantage of the shadows. Hux, too, made use of the dark, drawing closer to the woman without being overt.
She stood on a wide balcony staring out at the megalopolis of Denon’s main settlement. Light from three moons made it seem as though she stood beneath a spotlight.
It afforded him the opportunity to simply observe. She wore her hair in an elaborate display of three knots that started at the crown of her head and ended at the base of her neck. Pearls and flowers wove their way through the strands. They shone like snowflakes against her dark hair.
Hux was close enough to watch her trace light fingers across the faint bruises circling her wrists. Watch her cheeks flush as she recalled how she had earned them.
Intrigue drew his eyes to the pale skin of her neck. More faint bruises. Another familiar pattern. The marks stood out against the rosy hue of her skin, dusky shadows whispering of forbidden things that happened behind closed doors, things Hux was intimately familiar with.
Heat rolled through him, gathering in his core. The markings told him plenty and set his thoughts on fire. Hux decided then and there that he must have her, if only to introduce her to the possibilities that awaited her under his expert guidance. | c2c5846d48184b17bd361f15d299693f | ['d37e062861ae4d2aa960428f5aa6e6d7'] | > But not now, not like this. Not when Ren has him pinned up against the wall in a most obscene manner. He reeks of Rey and sex.
>
> Hux's gloved hands grip the wrist of the one Ren has clenched around his throat.
>
> “Careful, Ren, that your own personal interests not interfere with the girl's training.”
>
> “My personal interests, General? And what of yours?”
>
> “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”
>
> Something dark and dangerous slithers to life between them.
>
> Ren releases Hux from his crushing grip. His mouth replaces the painful fingers at Hux's throat with impossibly soft lips.
>
> “She would have us both, Hux.”
When their time is up on Bakura, Hux returns to his post, Rey in tow. He keeps her sequestered in his quarters under threat of arrest. He allows her full access to everything he has under the watchful eye of his two most trusted men.
Though his time alone with her seemed to pass at lightspeed, he knows he’s been away too long.
New information awaits him.
The first item of business is dealing with yet another of Ren’s temper tantrums. More expensive equipment to replace. More of the same nonsense.
There’s a long list of directives awaiting his attention. Hux moves on quickly to the next one. And the next, until he’s caught up.
Hux has saved the best for last.
There are three new vid files his algorithm has uncovered.
Hux queues up the first.
The vid jitters to life on his screen, blood red and shot through with interference.
There’s no mistaking Snoke’s throne room aboard the _Finalizer_. Hux stops breathing.
Large chunks of missing data give the vid a surreal, jumpy quality.
Rey on her knees before Ren, his unlit weapon aimed at her heart.
A flash of blue cutting through the crimson haze.
The vid clears for a moment, untouched by disaster. Hux sees Rey call the saber she ignited through Snoke’s torso to her waiting hand. Ren had told him the truth!
A burst of gray static drowns out the feed. Hux slaps his datapad in frustration.
An image pops up, too brief for Hux to understand what he is seeing before the static consumes it again.
Rey resolves onto the screen once more. She screams Ren’s name then throws him her weapon. There’s enough for Hux to see that Ren is able to use it to free himself from his would-be assassin.
The static returns and there’s nothing more to see.
He allows himself to watch it two more times before moving on to the second result.
It’s Kylo Ren, destroying the equipment Hux has just ordered replaced. Another failed connection that lines up perfectly with Ren’s petty, childish outburst. It pleases Hux to no end that this one occurred while Rey was in his custody on Bakura.
His satisfaction is short-lived when the next search result in the chronology displays the hallmarks of a completed connection. It’s the first one since Crait. Hux checks the timestamp and his heart seizes in his chest. He checks and double checks but there's no mistake.
She and Ren had shared the connection while she brought herself to climax in Hux's bed that very first night. He feels as though he's about to vomit, manages to swallow the bitter bile.
Ren always ruins _everything_!
For the first time, Hux is late to a meeting.
He stares his datapad, agitated and impatient with Mitaka's daily debriefing. It's all so fucking irrelevant. He has real work to do. Not this mindless drudgery.
The only thing keeping him in place is that there have been no indications of additional connections between Rey and Ren since Hux brought her aboard.
He dares to hope because in the short time since they’ve returned, Rey has proved herself an excellent student. When he’d set aside three days to teach her the basic form and style of Echani, she’d mastered everything in less than two hours. Her grasp of the deeper meaning behind each kata is clear to see in the fluid way she moves. It seems to Hux she is almost born to it.
His screen glitches, pulling him from his thoughts. The image pixelates for the briefest moment, before resolving back into the endless white against black that is Mitaka's briefing notes.
Hux sits a little straighter, if that's even possible, eyes now squarely focused on his datapad. There! It happens again only this time, when the screen clears, Hux is left with mouth gaping and eyes bulging.
He glances at the HUD. _Live feed_ blinks in tiny red letters then his eyes snap back to what's playing out on his screen.
Seated to his left, Lieutenant Mitaka stops talking and turns to Hux.
“Is everything alright, General?”
Hux digs deep, regains the tiniest of holds on his composure and meets his lieutenant’s stare.
“Of course. Continue without delay.”
The lieutenant gives Hux a dubious final glance and returns to his debrief.
When all eyes are back on Mitaka, Hux dares to look at his screen. He can't contain a sharp intake of breath. Mitaka flicks his eyes at Hux but continues on without pause.
On his screen, Hux watches as Ren fucks down into what Hux has come to consider as his. Rey's face is flushed, eyes burning brighter than Hux has ever seen. He thanks the stars there's no audio to give things away. Hux is intimately aware of how vocal Rey is, unabashedly giving voice to her pleasure.
His skin threatens to burn and peel from his bones as he watches Ren take her. Hux is aghast at how different Rey is when she's in bed with Ren.
With Hux, she's soft and tender and gentle. Submissive. With Ren, there's biting and scratching and a struggle for dominance. Jealousy darkens his eyes to emerald instead of their usual jade. |
c32a16185743468cbc8f2ef389276974 | ['d3902bc2410c4a778f905977ffd70033'] | * * * * *
Samar had decided that a neutral place would be most appropriate. She didn't want to remind Liz of what she'd lost, no more than strictly necessary, anyway. She spoke to Reddington who had suggested a restaurant not far from the clinic. He'd spoken to the owner and booked it out for the afternoon, so they wouldn't be disturbed. Food had been prepared and left for them and there was a well-stocked bar. There were no stairs to worry about and a beautiful terrace that they could sit on if they wanted. Overall, Samar was pretty pleased with how her scheme had worked out.
When they arrived at the restaurant, she got the wheelchair out and Ressler helped get Liz settled into it. Samar draped the blanket over Liz's legs again and she smiled gratefully up at her.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about now?” Liz asked playfully. “Or am I just here to look pretty?”
“You're here to relax,” Samar said, leading the way to the entrance. “If you can relax and look pretty at the same time, please feel free.”
Liz laughed, and Samar felt a flush of happiness spread through her. It had been so long since she'd heard a genuine laugh from Liz.
She held the door open for them to pass through and she followed, glancing around to see that everything was as it should be. Reddington had certainly chosen a beautiful place, she'd give him that. Cooper stood next to Aram in the centre of the room, who was practically vibrating with excitement. He beamed at them all as they entered, and Samar didn't think she'd ever loved him more than in that moment. He rushed over to Liz but seemed at a loss as to what to do next.
Liz smiled up at him and held her arms open in welcome.
“How about a hug?”
Aram knelt down in front of her and wrapped his arms gently around her.
“I'm glad you're here, Liz.”
“I'm glad, too.”
Aram released her and stepped back to allow Cooper a chance to say hello. Cooper looked at Liz with a fond smile and kissed the top of her head.
“Welcome, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you,” Liz whispered, seemingly unable to manage anything more.
“Let's get you settled in,” Ressler said brusquely. “I don't know about you, but all this intrigue makes me hungry.”
Samar looked at the huge table full of food. There was easily enough there for twenty people.
“Do you think it'll be enough?” she said dryly.
“We can always send out for some pizza if we run out,” Liz joked.
* * * * *
Samar was very happy. She'd had the pleasure of watching Liz eat a small meal and actually hold a conversation with the others. She wasn't just passively listening but engaging with them. Reddington had shown up about an hour into their meal with Dembe and Agnes.
“Mama!" Agnes cried out excitedly.
“Hi baby,” Liz said quietly.
Agnes rushed forward, dragging Reddington determinedly along until she reached Liz.
“Good afternoon, Elizabeth,” he said, smiling broadly at her. He lifted Agnes gently onto her lap and the little girl snuggled against her contentedly.
Liz smiled and brought her arms up to hug her gently.
After that, Liz was completely taken up by Agnes' chatter. She talked non-stop about her favourite book and how uncle Dembe took her to the park and uncle Aram baked cupcakes with her and how she went to the zoo and a hundred other things. Liz just sat staring at her, a look almost akin to wonder on her face, occasionally stroking her cheek or smoothing her hair. Agnes eventually grew tired and just rested her head against Liz's chest.
Samar met Liz's eyes from across the room and they smiled at each other.
_Thank you_ , Liz mouthed.
Samar nodded. Oh yes, she was very pleased.
* * * * *
Months later, Samar sat in her hospital bed glaring at the doctor. He wouldn't let her leave even though she was perfectly fine. Aram hadn't arrived yet and she was nearly at the end of her patience.
Just as she was about to tell the doctor just where he could shove his treatment plan, Liz walked into the room.
“Samar Navabi?” she said, flashing her badge. “You're going to have to come with me.”
Samar grinned. | 6fb86ac759ad499cb345a6039cd6ded0 | ['d3902bc2410c4a778f905977ffd70033'] | “Raymond has been drinking,” Dembe said in a marvellous display of pointing out the obvious.
Liz looked at him incredulously and said, “It doesn’t usually affect him like this, though. What’s brought this on?”
“Lizzy!” Red moaned again, his face still against his arms.
“Reddington,” Liz said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t move, she sighed and slid into the booth across from him. She looked down at the top of his head and wondered what she was supposed to do now. It was dangerous for him to be out in this state, even with Dembe’s watchful presence. “We need to get him back to his safe-house.”
“I have been trying to get him to leave for the last hour,” Dembe said, sounding exasperated. “He will not come.”
“Why don’t you bring the car around—”
“We didn’t bring the car.” Liz looked up at him, surprised. “We walked.”
“You _walked_? Reddington doesn’t walk.”
“He has been in a strange mood today,” Dembe said dismissively. “He had been trying to call you for some time, but I did not think that he was in the right state to speak with you.”
“Friends don’t let friends drunk-dial, huh?” Liz said, smiling suddenly. “So why bring me here? What changed your mind?”
“He wanted to see you, Elizabeth. He would not stop asking for you.” Liz stared fondly down at Red’s head for a moment. “And I need help getting him out of here.”
Liz turned her head to smirk at Dembe knowingly. As flattering as it was to think that Red wanted to see her so badly, she knew that it was far more likely that she had been brought here primarily to help him get Red safely back to where they were staying.
“Okay,” Liz said. “Let’s do this. We can take my car, it’s not far away.”
Dembe nodded in agreement and Liz reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Red’s wrist.
“Reddington,” she said softly, shaking him slightly. “Reddington, it’s time to go.”
He sat up slowly and stared at her through narrowed eyes, obviously confused.
“Eliz – Elizabaa—” He frowned, concentrating hard. “Elizabeth?”
“Hello, Red,” she said quietly. “Will you let me take you home?”
“Home?” he said sadly. “Don’t have a home. Can never find my way—” he trailed off as he lowered his head back to the table again.
Liz looked up at Dembe, hoping for a suggestion or an offer of help, but he just shrugged resignedly. She shook Red again, more firmly this time.
“Come on, Red. It’s time to go.” She stood up as she spoke and turned to Dembe again. “Couldn’t you just throw him over your shoulder and be done with it?” She began tugging on Red’s arm, trying to coax him into standing up. “I mean, his dignity has already taken a fatal hit tonight, how much worse could it be?”
Dembe smiled and moved to assist her, since Red certainly wasn’t any help. They finally managed to get him standing and he leaned against Dembe, blinking dazedly down at Liz.
“Has he paid his bill?” Liz asked as she swept her gaze over the table, checking to see if he’d left anything behind. “Where’s his phone?”
“He paid for that whole bottle, so there is no bill,” Dembe grunted as he struggled to keep a swaying Red still. “I have his phone.”
“Good,” Liz said, grabbing the fedora off the table and batting Red’s hands away as he reached for the bottle of scotch. “Leave it, Red.”
“But it’s mine,” Red said petulantly, making another grab for it.
“We’ll get you another one,” Liz said placatingly as they started to weave through the crowd. Liz held the door open and Dembe stumbled out on to the street. She pointed out her car and they started an awkward parade towards it. “Do you want to drive or should I?”
“I’ll drive!” Red volunteered, and Liz snorted.
“I will drive, Elizabeth,” Dembe said sternly. “You can sit in the back with Raymond.”
“Great,” Liz said without enthusiasm.
She unlocked the car and handed the keys to Dembe, watching as Red tried unsuccessfully to sit in the backseat. She smothered a laugh, thinking that laughter wouldn’t be all that helpful given the circumstances. She guided him gently into his seat and forced his seatbelt on. He struggled slightly against it until he suddenly stopped and looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Lizzy?” he said in a tone of wonder. “When did you get here?”
She smiled at him and smoothed a hand over his creased brow before she realised what she was doing and abruptly snatched her hand away.
“We’re just taking you back to the safe-house. It won’t be long.”
She closed the door gently and got in the car on the other side. She nodded at Dembe when she was settled and he started to drive. She put Red’s fedora on the seat between them and studied his face. He was looking out the window and humming tunelessly under his breath. She sighed softly and the sound drew his attention to her.
“Lizzy!” he said loudly, seeming relieved. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, I have something very important to ask you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” He nodded once but then seemed to lose track of what he was saying. He leaned his head back against the seat and just stared at her. “Lizzy,” he sighed. “Lizzzzzzzy. I miss calling you Lizzy.”
“Do you?”
“Oh yes. _Lizzy_ ,” he said, clearly relishing the sound. “It just rolls off the tongue. Elizabeth just seems so—” He screwed up his face and made a wild gesture with his hands, seemingly lost for words.
“I didn’t know you found my name so offensive, Reddington,” she said dryly. “You can always go back to calling me Agent Keen.” |
18747c5131ec4b2683d459fbc95967b1 | ['d3918b39c85a4233a2702efe0a638313'] | Using strength he didn’t know he had, Diego lifted Klaus into his arms and carried him out of the mausoleum, striding past their siblings and flat out ignoring their father. Diego didn’t let go of Klaus until he was settled snuggly into his bed, Ben wrapped around him and whispering soothing words into his ear.
Despite his unwillingness to leave his brother, Diego quickly scanned the room for anywhere Klaus could have hidden drugs or alcohol, and upon finding a baggie under the bed, left the room to dispose of it. He found himself stomping towards the main lounge, where he found Allison crying into Luther’s chest and Vanya sitting beside Five, both looking undisturbed. Pogo was hovering in the doorway, as if unsure he would be welcomed to comfort the children.
Not finding the one he wanted, Diego stormed back out and found his way to their father’s office.
There he sat, calmly behind his desk, writing in a notebook and looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It only fuelled Diego’s anger.
“If you ever do something like that again, I won’t hesitate to put a blade through your throat.”
Hargreeves, for he was no longer any kind of father to Diego, didn’t respond, and it only added heat to the fire.
“LOOK AT ME!” Hargreeves paused and glanced up at Diego before returning to his work.
“I heard you, Number 2. No need to yell.” He wrote one more thing in his notebook before closing it and setting it aside. “I am finished with this kind of training anyway. Number 4 will recover. You may see yourself out now.”
Diego glared at Hargreeves, before turning to leave. He had only taken a single step when he was cut off by a voice.
“Number 2. If you dare threaten me again, I’ll see to it that Number 4 spends a week in the mausoleum. Don’t test me.”
Diego didn’t bother to turn around and simply kept walking. He paused once more at the door.
“I hate you.” It may have seemed petty and childish, and god damnit Diego was a thirty-year-old man he should be over this, but he’d never gotten the chance to say it before Hargreeves kicked the bucket. With that, he left the office and headed towards the bedrooms.
After all, he had a little brother to comfort. | 4317e948176c4994ad6d6ed4f3dc26be | ['d3918b39c85a4233a2702efe0a638313'] |
Dance, Dance, We're Falling Apart
**Author's Note:**
> Exploring these dynamics was definitely interesting and I'm looking forward to everyone else's views.
>
> Let me know what you think!
1.
Music had always been one of the only ways the Hargreeves siblings knew how to connect. It started when they were 5 years old and Grace had decided to put on a record for their afternoon music lesson – Hargreeves was willing to allow a limited amount of ‘playtime’ for the children. At first, they were simply listening, trying to feel the rhythm so that Grace could begin teaching them how to dance. They were only a few minutes into the song when Pogo called Grace away and immediately Four and Two were sharing mischievous looks. They were thick as thieves at that age, and constantly getting themselves into trouble somehow.
They clambered up off the floor, grabbing Six and Seven with them and ran to an open space on the floor. Three and Five were quick to follow and join in on the jumping, twirling and giggling.
“Guys! We’re not supposed to get up!” Two rolled his eyes at the whine in One’s voice.
“C’mon One, it’s fun!” Three squealed, grabbing his hands to yank him up.
He sighed and pulled his hands away.
“Okay, but just for a minute!”
The others saw through his act immediately and cheered as he joined them, the group of seven spinning and leaping around each other.
Their joy was short lived, however.
Their laughter had clearly been loud enough to draw their father out of his office, and he appeared in the doorway looking furious.
“Children! This is no time for fun. You are supposed to be having a serious lesson. Where is your nanny?”
Grace came into the room as the children sat back down in their numbered line.
“Apologies, sir. Pogo called me away for just a moment.” She quickly removed the record from the turntable and placed it back in its sleeve.
“See that it doesn’t happen again.” He turned to leave. “and Number One? I’m very disappointed in you.”
One looked down with tears in his eyes, and Two placed a gentle hand on his back while the rest of them stared after their father as he walked away.
~~~
2.
Five was gone. Five was gone and they’d finally been given real names as if to make up for his loss. If anything, it only made them miss him more, knowing he would never get a name of his own.
It was a struggle, remembering to answer to their new names, although their father still referred to them by their numbers. Mom and Pogo used their ‘normal’ names often, which the kids knew was a way of acclimatising them.
Seven (Vanya) struggled the most. She felt guilty for not stopping Five (always Five) from leaving that day, although the others had tried dispassionately to convince her otherwise. Her beloved violin felt too heavy, like she was trying to hold the weight of the world to her shoulder rather than a wooden instrument.
The powerful sounds of her bow on the string no longer filled the otherwise quiet halls of the academy. Instead, a heavy silence blanketed the house and its inhabitants.
A month after Five’s disappearance, Seven (Vanya) sat in the centre of their old play/school room. It hadn’t seen any use for at least a few years, not since the others were old enough to begin their physical training. She had a new, smaller classroom to study in. It only made her feel lonelier to stare at the grey walls as she tried to pay attention to the subject Mom was teaching, wondering what her siblings were doing.
Noticing the old turntable in the corner of the room, a small stack of records next to it, Seven (vanyavanyavanyamynameisVANYA) gently set up a record, one she remembered from their joint music lessons – those were long gone, she was the only one allowed to study music now. The upbeat song seemed inappropriate, but she couldn’t gather the energy to change it as she lay back on the plush carpet. Eyes closed, Vanya listened.
It wasn’t until the song ended that Vanya notice she wasn’t alone. Each of her siblings sat or stood somewhere in the room, all with their eyes shut. Some were crying, and it took Vanya a moment to realise that she was one of them.
And for just a second, her mind cleared. They were together, connected by the same song they had once danced to as innocent children in this very room and Vanya knew that with her family there, she would be fine.
~~~
3.
The sound threaded through the house, reaching even the most quiet and secluded corners. It was late afternoon, which meant the Umbrella Academy had a break from training before dinner and as such the Hargreeves children had scattered to their own bedrooms.
Ben was the first to be coaxed away from his room, creeping out of his open door to follow the solemn sounds of the bow sliding across Vanya’s violin. He quietly found his way to her bedroom door and stood in silence as he watched her play.
Allison and Luther came next (Ben noticed they both came from Allison’s room rather than separately) and stood calmly next to him in the doorway. They were both entranced in the delicate movement of Vanya’s body as she pulled rich notes from the strings of her instrument.
Klaus stumbled down the corridor, clearly high or drunk or some other kind of intoxicated, but Ben glared and shushed him before he could make a noise and disrupt the beautiful playing. Klaus held his hands up in surrender and came to stand behind Ben as they continued to watch Vanya. |
9c2c7df08fa1457fb1cadeecf4cd1469 | ['d39acba8ea124e04b4dee58a3706e6a2'] | Love in Paris
**Author's Note:**
> This story will inspire me in that rumor that ran earlier this year, Richard had traveled to France with the Lee family.
>
> sorry for spelling errors, speak and write Spanish, I translated.
Lee was in London with Richard , it was the first time I stayed there at Christmas time and when I was in that city was just for work.
Almost 7am the phone ringing woke Lee hit both still asleep, without opening his eyes Lee groping grabbed her phone while Richard back on the other side to try to continue sleeping was given , had set a bad mood because the hated waking up with a call - Oh please! Who are you calling at this hour? - Richard said as he looked at the time on your phone - must be something important - Lee replied hoarsely - who calls me shit ? - Lee said between asleep -? HAS CALLED ME How LEE ? ! - when suddenly jumped up and shouted -DAD ! ? ? DAD , I'm sorry I had not seen it was your calling ? Something the matter? - Oh no no , please do not be alarmed , it is too early for there but called them an invitation to you and Richard . - His father replied - Yes , tell Dad - We are going almost the whole family to Paris and we thought maybe you two want to come with us and .... - Interrupted Lee - Oh yeah Dad ! Richard accepted your invitation - clear that Richard had not said a word , which straightened on the bed and looked at Lee not getting anything at all of what had allegedly accepted the invitation ? Do ? He wondered ,we are finding there, thanks Dad! - Hung so happily that Richard was still sitting on the bed , disheveled and with some brands of sheets waiting to be dijiera something - do you have anything to tell me ? - Lee standing there with his hands on waist and smiling -Rich, packing their bags , we're going to Paris ! - Paris ! Exclaimed - Oh yes mom and dad invited us to Paris for a few days - he spoke impressed Richard , while preparing the bags - do you gonna make me ? -Do not have to take by force, babe! Almost pressing his lips against Richard - hmmm , I think you convinced me! - Answered with a smile.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Enjoy Paris , yes seize every moment , you had to not hide , could walk freely without being noticed by anyone , they went to dinner alone and also including Lee's parents , even ventured to leave their names on a padlock as a promise of love to throw the key into the river , and nights of sex were not lacking in those days who were there were in Paris as well be called " the city of love " , the invitation did not miss the younger brother of Lee , who joined with them 3 days before ending his days in France , it was then decided to know all the Alps.
And so ended knowing that beautiful place , surrounded by mountains , snow skiing and desire , something they had learned in their stay in New Zealand , Brother Lee did not hold their excitement to know the place and take pictures and run to publish your account social , photos of mountains , the skiing photos and pictures with his older brother and Richard included .
Nobody would have imagined that Richard had something to say or rather something to confess to Lee, until that night , at dinner with Lee's family in their rented cottage overlooking the great mountains that adorned the windows of the place.
At a time with intense bravery Richard interrupts blow to Lee's parents was to make a farewell toast their holiday - I apologize for this, but I need to say something - a nervous voice and looking at Lee - is actually a Lee who want to say something and have everyone here and ...... - swallowed more saliva than usual Richard Oh please do not apologize , if you do have something to say - I speak very honestly Lee's father and some intrigue at once to know that was what I was going to say, but all were silent and looking at Richard , Lee's parents , his sister , his brother and his younger brother began to get impatient and said :Let Rich ! That 's what you want to say ? Lee looked at him and ran his hand on the back of Richard :Babe , what 's wrong?
Teeing courage put the cup on the table, put his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small box - Mr. and Mrs. Pace ... I ask permission to commit to Lee - almost Lee falls from the chair in which he sat and others were left with open mouth without making a sound - both surprised all who dared to say : of course you have our permission to make happy our Lee! - Richard 's smile could not be bigger than it had ever been and Lee ... well , Lee did not enter you happiness in your body, both rings engraved with their names and then sealed with a kiss Now we have another reason to provide said his mom in tears -
They went to sleep early the next morning came early flight to London , Lee lying in bed not stop looking at that ring on her finger was now -going to spend the eyes looking at that ring! - Richard said as he kissed her cheek Lee -you know Rich ... is that ...... - interrupts Richard - you know we can not always take it .. just for a while,I know babe , I know you will be spending our rings saved more time than they will use ! - ... I said that this will be for a while, he told Richard - I love you Rich ! Thanks for making me happy and for loving me so much - her hand stroking the hair of Lee: me too babe! - Burying his face in his neck were about to sleep , cuddle and eager to move forward , despite having to hide your love , know they are made for each other. | 8f3766a3e8b64c96a0dcb25f22c90031 | ['d39acba8ea124e04b4dee58a3706e6a2'] | At home there was more room to think about things that made him sad , he decided to leave everything behind and enjoy your family was most important in your life ...... of course, but at night when everyone was asleep , Richard was put to read in your bedroom without being able to sleep but remember to avoid Lee was so useless.
On Christmas Eve Eve everyone in the house were so happy , that morning all awoke with so many things to do , Christmas tree , gifts , count how many chairs would be placed in the room, all the Armitage were this year's house Richard 's parents the first time they all met after a long time .
Richard was in the kitchen preparing everything , his mother surprised him with a loud kiss on his cheek and put his hand to his heart told him sweetly ; "No problem that has no solution ... everything will be alright " - Richard looked at her surprised , thinking how can you know it if I did not tell anything, when I wanted to ask her mother said ; ? ' I 've noticed that something happened to Lee, all mother knows when her child something happens is you avoided talking about the here when all you asked for Lee.
...........................................................................................
This time Richard was in charge of making dinner and was very generous and there were many more than 10 table ten good night !
The weather did not follow too much snow and too cold , hoping that Christmas would do very raw and white .
Christmas night was a delicious dinner feted check by the hands of Richard , the house was splendid , too much hype, laughter, talking about all together that no one understood , but were very happy to share a dinner at home with cousins and uncles not met again point to many years.
Chris's brother Richard got up in search of wine for dinner, then see below the door a shadow of a person who was retiring from there, Chris turned to look at the whole family he laughed and talked nonstop, decided to open the door thinking that it might be a beggar for food.
Chris turned to the room, went straight to Richard who was chatting with his uncle , the younger brother of his father , went to ear, " Rich, someone looking for this at the door waiting ," I looked at his brother somewhat surprised and do not understand who could come and see it to almost 11.30 pm.
He got up and went straight to the door when suddenly opened and ........
What a Surprise ! His face lit up and a smile full burst from his face :
Lee was standing in front of him almost as much white snow that was about it.
\- What ... what ... what are you doing here? Were not you in New York? . No. no ... Suddenly Lee avanlazo very strong on him and hugged him and whispered in his ear, " Rich , I'm sorry you 've been an idiot ! " - Richard hugged him so many forces that almost ran out of the air two .
\- You had me an invitation and I'm done here, still standing still ? Lee asked Richard if a shy - looking babe! He replied with a smile and kissed the lips of all forgiveness sealing Lee - When did you get here? Last night , when I send the message I had come to London to give this surprise ! I never went to New York, Texas I came over, and because of this big snowstorm could not reach me early, said with a smile. Richard felt like a child , I was happy to have him back and reads with him at home.
\- Come up, I want you to all my family , Richard said with the altered voice of joy .
And there they all were, when Lee entered the room the deepest overnight there had been no silence , Lee wanted to get smaller , get out, is that these many pairs of eyes never left him.
Richard said; I present to Lee "- John Richard's father jumped from his chair to greet him, then Margaret said,"! Happens, sit down with us Lee "means Richard pushing place to sit all began to greet Lee and telling! , "! finally you know Lee" Richie has told us so much about you, you said one of the aunts Richard! - Aunt Ohhh, please! He exclaimed.
All at the same time wanted to chat with Lee and Lee did not know who to watch or listen to the curious little Abe himself to know, "you know one thing man has had the best Christmas gift! -He said as he sat on the lap of his uncle Richard.
Richard Lee smiled and could not help but kiss him a different Christmas for everyone, but for Richard Y Lee, there was nothing that could change, Christmas came and found them all at home, laughing, giving and opening gifts. |
3e7f1d53b31445f8afe2c0a817103099 | ['d3d98838005a48db9cefb18cd8c340cc'] | She snorted and set down her tea, the warmth long gone, as she forced herself to relax. "I know but you also know not to bring up...that." That of course was the fact that her body was so fragile at birth and as a young child that she had easily been taken over by one of the few Dark Spirits left. When it finally left her body was on the verge of collapsing, she was taken to Republic City and given emergency surgery since even Katara had been unable to save her with Waterbending Healing. The surgery had given her mechanical implants in several key parts of her body, including several parts of her brain. She sometimes didn't get the cues that others did like joking or sadness.
"I know," the emerald-eyed Airbender murmured. Of course, Hotaru also knew that Haruka never apologized to anyone else, other than the ravenette herself. Well, and Michiru, but that was different. Knowing that they would have relatively little to do until the next day, the blonde decided to put forth an offer that would likely help them both unwind a bit. "Would you like to spar with me? We won't really have much to do until tomorrow, otherwise..."
"Sure, but I won't go easy on you. I also won't use any knives, this time."
"You can use them, you know; I won't make the mistakes I did last time." She still had a few scars from their last spar. One was on her shoulder, from where she hadn't noticed the knife until it was too late to block it. The scar on her neck, just under her collar, was more noticeable.
"Yeah, no. I tend to aim for vital area by instinct."
"Either you don't think I can handle it, or you don't want to accidentally kill me." A pause, then, "I'm not sure if I should thank you, or wonder about the specifics as to why you care so much..." Sometimes the blonde still got it stuck in her head that she wasn't worth being cared about. (It tended to happen when a boyish girl who could Airbend was given to the monks, but her oh-so-perfect older twin brother was whom their parents had given their lives to protect, just because he was the Earthbender they had really wanted.)
"You're one of my only friends, I'd like to keep you alive."
"Then thank you, Princess," Haruka laughed softly. Finishing her tea, the blonde let go of the ravenette, and stood to stretch. She wanted to be limber for their sparring, and her muscles had cooled since she had ceased her training earlier.
"I'm going to put Cuervo on my ship; with his black fur he can't stay in the sun too long. I also need to grab my skeins." Hotaru stood in one fluid movement, moving almost as if she was one with her element.
"And I'll go find us a training area not overrun by brats." Haruka more-or-less liked children, but as previously noted, she only had a certain amount of patience for them. And, for some reason, the youngest of the novice Airbenders were _brats_. She'd been caught contemplating throwing some of them off the mountain more than once.
"Mhm." She then strode out of the room, making a small whistle that had her companion on his paws in moments.
Once she had cleaned up the things from their tea, Haruka made her way out of her room in the dormitories and out to the grounds of the Temple. Making her way to one of the larger, but less secluded training areas, she greeted a few of her Masters along the way. Most only grudgingly respected her because of her abilities, while one or two actually liked her. Coming upon the training ground she had in mind, a slow smirk curled her lips. Well, she would know that mane of chestnut locks anywhere... Too bad she couldn't be here to see the hair he loved so much shaved off. Making no sound, she sent a blast of air at the brunette's back, wondering if she were still better than the only other student close to her own age of twenty.
Nathan – more often called Nate by those that considered him a friend – spun around and directed the air away from him quickly.
The blonde smirked. "You're getting better." Even as she spoke, she was rapidly sending gusts of slicing wind and blasts of concussive air force at the brunette. "But still not good enough." This was one thing that they shared, one thing that no other Airbender would trust them because of. They both had a vicious streak, a part of them that was willing to use force and to even kill if the need arose, despite what they had been taught. Rather, what their Masters had _tried_ to teach them.
Nate smirked and nodded, directing all of the air with relative ease.
Hotaru, having returned by this time, uncapped one of her skeins and held the water carefully before sending a gentle blast at the blonde's back.
Grinning, Haruka used the force of the air to evade the water, facing both of her opponents at the same time. "Two on one? _Finally_ some good competition," she teased gently. The blonde had always been something of a prodigy when it came to Airbending, and she could even wipe the floor with most of the Masters by this point. Multiple opponents, however, were a good challenge and one she enjoyed. It exercised both her mind and her bending skill.
"Don't forget you're facing a master here." Hotaru uncapped her other skeins and took a deep breath. Eyes narrowing, she pulled the water back to her, sending a small wave towards the ground, one hand poised to freeze it when ready. | adbe9ce72d2643fd944be656c26ce899 | ['d3d98838005a48db9cefb18cd8c340cc'] |
Rip Tide
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Canon? What canon? Trigger warnings in the tags. Cleaned up from a roleplay I did with a friend years ago. Same universe as my other work, "Funhouse Mirror."
Not wanting to pack, and not wanting to deal with his housemates (read: family), Charlie had made his way down to the Hufflepuff common room to meet his best friend in the whole world, Nymphadora “Dora” Tonks. They were currently fifth years, and supposed to be getting ready to go home for the Christmas holidays, but the redhead in question (he was already growing out his hair, so that it brushed his shoulders) had no desire to do so. Don't get him wrong, he loved his family, but with his mother continually asking if he'd gotten a girlfriend yet, or if he fancied anyone, the Lion Seeker had no desire to go home any sooner than was needed. As always, his best friend knew why he was there before he even had to open his mouth.
“Dreading dealing your mother already, Char?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Thankfully, the Badgers' den was just about empty, so Charlie took the opportunity to flop down onto the couch beside his best friend. “At least your Mum doesn't keep going on and on about you finding someone...”
“There’s that, I guess. I think it stems from her being forced into a relationship, so she just kinda lets me be me. Though, I wish she wouldn't use my name when she knows I hate it.”
“Have you ever outright asked her not to? Like, not just been exasperated, but just asked her to, calmly and rationally?" Truth be told, Charlie wanted to know what she had meant by a “forced” relationship, since pretty much everyone who knew Dora knew that her parents were the most loving pair anyone could find... But he could also tell that that wasn't a subject that his best friend wanted brought up just then.
“When I was younger, yeah I tried but she still used _that name_.”
“...How well does your Mum take last-minute arrangements?” Since an owl to his own Mum would be quick enough, not to mention Bill could calm Molly down as well. “I'll have a crack at your Mum, if you're alright with me spending the holidays with you?” It would also give him the chance to find out what Dora had meant.
“They're going to think we're dating, you know that right?”
“I don't mind if you don't.” As much as a male partner would have made him more comfortable (from an aesthetic and romantic point of view; sexually it was just no on any gender), Dora was his best friend, and one of the few people that knew him well enough to understand him and his limits.
“I could always do this." She blinked and quickly morphed into a copy of her best friend, just with a Hufflepuff shirt.
“Thanks, Dora,” Charlie shook his head, “but no thanks. I'm good.”
“But then I'll be the most handsome man in school.”
For a moment, Charlie just blinked. Then realization dawned on him, and he blushed the same shade as his hair. “Shut it,” he muttered, looking away.
“But it's true~”
“Not a chance, Dora. You're far more attractive than I am,” once more, simply from an aesthetic point of view, “and then there's Bill.” The Head Boy, Prefect, and Quidditch Captain who had had almost every boy and girl in the school lusting after him at one point or another.
“Have I ever lied to you? That didn't involve a prank or something along those lines?”
“Just because you believe you're telling the truth, doesn't automatically make it true.”
“Meh, and just because you believe that I'm lying doesn't make it so.”
“Then we'll need to agree to disagree.”
“As we always do, ya dork.”
Charlie just laughed. “I take it that you're all good and packed? How about you send your Mum an owl, while I go get ready and let Bill know what's up?”
Letting out a laugh of her own, the Metamorph smirked and changed into Bill in an instant. “Of course I'm packed.”
Had he been any other person, Charlie would have cringed. “Stop doing that, it's bad enough that I can admit Bill is aesthetically attractive.”
“Alright, alright, fine.” Shifting back to her normal appearance with bright pink hair, she smirked some more. “I am packed though.”
“I figured. Meet you in the Entrance Hall in twenty?” Good students as they appeared, they were also quite sneaky. They knew ways to cut the time it took to traverse fourteen flights of stairs in more than half.
“Well I can probably beat you there.”
“Is that a bet, Nym~?”
“You sure you want to lose, Char?”
“Who says I'll lose? We might tie, this time.”
“You always lose.”
“Hey, not my fault you cheat." As they good-naturedly bickered, the two made their way out of the Huffelpuff Common Room, and up into the Entrance Hall.
“How do I cheat?!”
“Morph your legs so that they're better equipped to speed.”
“I would never!”
“You sure?” He was completely teasing; he knew she wouldn't.
“I mean unless you're saying that's the only way you could lose to a girl.”
“Not at all.”
“Good because I'd never cheat.”
“I know.”
“Okay so...bye." She took off at top speed for the stairs, heading for the Owlery.
At the exact same moment, Charlie sped off, headed for Gryffindor Tower. Neat as he was, when he finally reached his dorm, he packed as quickly as he could. Things were magically folded and packed with the speed of light, but still, even with his trunk shrunk and in his pocket, and even with all the secret passages, he was still just a hair behind Dora.
Dora smirked from where she stood in the doorway. “You lose.” |
ad8539e0ec95483d809cd6da3b8bf142 | ['d3ee75a7a47942ed80a39a3c6cd3195d'] | "Then let's do it." Newt smiled softly at the brunette. Thomas nodded and turned on his heels, keeping their fingers intertwined as he pushed open the door. Newt followed briskly, keeping up as best he could. Immediately, people started nudging each other and pointing the two out, frowning in confusion and what looked like distaste. The blond sighed softly to himself, the whole ideal that the school had no social hierarchy seemingly being too good to be true. Thomas weaved within the students, humming softly to himself as he headed toward the music department, apparently lost in his own little world.
Newt tripped slightly over his own feet, cursing his own clumsiness as he crashed into Gally's chest. He blinked upward toward the boy, hand snagging on Thomas's as the drummer was tugged to a halt.
"Oh, sorry." Newt took a step back.
"No problem, you alright?" Gally asked softly, hand finding the small of the bassist's back as he seemingly didn't notice the hands held onto each other.
"I'm fine." he grumbled, side stepping into Thomas's side. Gally blinked down at their hands, raising his eyebrows.
"Really?" He crossed his arms over his chest, " _him?"_ He sighed, sounding disappointed, slightly like a parent. Newt didn't like that very much.
"Yeah. What's it to you?" He asked, tongue sharper than he intended, not that he really cared. People began to watch, almost amused.
"Oh come on now babe, you could do so much better than whatever _that_ is." Gally motioned to Thomas. "I mean, have you met me?" He laughed softly, panning a hand down himself. Newt ran his tongue over his teeth, thoroughly fed up.
"Yes. Yes I have. And what I have learnt, is that Thomas is, so _very_ different to you. See, you, well you have the IQ of an actual donut, whereas I'm fairly certain Thomas could get a degree in almost anything he set his mind too. And, news flash, the reason you're so unpopular and have no one, is because your compassion seemingly shrivelled up and fucking died when you came out of the bloody womb." he waved his spare hand around. "The only positive attribute about you is that, yes, you are attractive. But you don't need glasses to see past those eyes at the actually awful person you are. Actually, you probably should wear some kind of eye protection, fairly sure those eyebrows could cut you just by looking at them."
Everyone around them was sniggering and trying not to laugh, Gally blinking, shocked at Newt. Thomas was practically howling with laughter, managing, between his cackles, to lean forward and whisper,
"Are you an actual angel?" He asked as he led the blond away down the corridor.
"Someone had to say it." he grumbled.
-
As soon as Thomas opened the door to the practice room, the pair were greeted by three wolf whistles.
"Word spreads fast around here." Newt grumbled, letting go of Thomas's hands and slumping into a chair. Thomas pushed himself down into the chair next to him, humming in agreement.
"When did this happen?! And why did no one tell me?" Teresa waved her arms around in confusion and exaggeration.
"Friday night. After you guys all left." Thomas answered with a scoff at her dramatisation.
"Thomas! What have I told you about fucking people when your pure little brother is in the house?" Brenda gasped with a grin, crossing her arms over her chest in mock anger.
"Good thing we didn't fuck then." Newt shrugged.
"I'm almost disappointed." Brenda frowned. "Has the sweet virgin Newt finally converted you to being a nun?" She asked. Thomas scoffed lightly.
"Yeah, no. I can tell you, from the way I was being kissed, this sweet virgin," he nodded toward the blond, "is almost the opposite to a sweet virgin." Newt choked, smacking his arm with a blush.
"A sour prostitute?" Minho asked.
"Oh don't be dumb, Newt's the purest person I've ever met." Teresa leaned forward and ruffled his hair, the bassist batting away her hands with a groan as Thomas laughed again.
"I won't say anything. I'll let you keep your good christian boy view of him." He shrugged. Minho pushed off of the radiator, coming closer to sit next to Newt.
"So are you two like a thing now? Or is it just sex?"
"It's a thing last time I checked." Thomas shrugged, glancing at the blond for conformation, which he gave with a nod.
"Good. I'm glad. It was starting to get annoying watch Newt drool over you." The asian scoffed, Newt spluttering and punching his arm. "What? You did." The blond felt his cheeks on fire, as he glanced toward Thomas, who was smirking cockily at him.
"Don't look at him like that Thomas, I can't count how many times I caught you staring at his lips." Brenda shrugged. Thomas blinked with wide eyes, Newt leaning forward.
"Ha!"
"Ok shut up you." Thomas waved him off, blushing lightly. Newt leaned forward even more, struggling to keep the grin off his face.
"How about you make me."
"Oh yeah, how?" Thomas turned back to him, raising his eyebrow.
"I dunno, you tell me. Maybe something that'll keep Teresa thinking I'm a good christian boy."
"I'm sorry, but I just can't imagine you doing anything but praying on Sunday's and eating pancakes." Teresa shrugged.
"Pancakes? Why would he eat pancakes?" Minho frowned at her.
"The whole Jesus's body thing, you know?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Dude, that's bread." Newt scoffed.
"See! Religious!" She pointed at the bassist, scoffing slightly.
"Teresa everyone knows its bread! You're supposed to be the smart one!" Brenda waved her arms around. They began to bicker about pancakes, when Newt felt his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it open and blinked at it. | a6bd025fb12541d89e0b2c875460b932 | ['d3ee75a7a47942ed80a39a3c6cd3195d'] | "Ok, well," Thomas paused, "My names Thomas. I'm Twenty-three. I have a mum, she lives here in NY, but a while away. My little brother Chuck, is thirteen. He's in school pretty close to here, and every day after work I pick him up. My dad died when he was one, so I was nine, but honestly, I couldn't care any less. That man was nothing more than a alcoholic, cowardly, shuck face." He practically spat, finding Newts eyes wide with curiosity, "But anyway, I have a fish called Derek. I'm currently single, although I recently figured out I'm bi, which is pretty cool. Men are hotter than I thought." He snorted, as the brit scoffed into his coffee cup, "That's basically all I can think of."
Newt nodded in thought, before clearing his throat, "Well. My name's Sam, but everyone calls me Newt. I am Twenty-four, and I moved here when I was six. My younger sister Sonya, is going to college here in NY, and my parents still live in Britain. I have a boyfriend called Mark, and, uh, I love him very much." He stared into his cup, before continuing, "Pretty sure you've already noticed my limp. And every day after work, I walk home, and theres always these two golden retrievers who like to lie outside their house, they love pats. I go visit this granny who lives next door to me, called Mrs. Norris too." Thomas smiled fondly, nodding.
"Sounds fun."
"mhm' he nodded.
"Hey Newt?"
"Yeah?"
"Why do you always keep that jacket on? I don't think I've seen you without it once." He laughed softly, as the blond pulled it closer to himself.
"It's nice. And I get cold easy." he chuckled quietly.
"Why do you limp?" Thomas asked bluntly. He was fed up of wondering. Newt intrigued him too much, it was becoming unbearable. He had to find out more, curiosity was tearing him apart from the inside out. The blond looked quite shocked at his partners bluntness, but Thomas didn't care. He'd known Newt for two weeks, and still had no answers to any of his questions. Why did he limp? What were his pills for? What were the post-it notes for?
"Oh well...it's kinda personal. It was a thing, a while back. When I was seventeen."
"That's a long time." Thomas commented, the blond meeting his gaze with a steely one.
"Not when you know you'll have it for the rest of your life. It was my own fault. I made a stupid mistake, I didn't think through the..the effectiveness of my actions. If I had done it right I..well..I certainly wouldn't have my limp. That's kinda all I wanna say about it." He offered. Thomas sighed in exasperation.
"Newt, your driving me shucking crazy man. I have so many questions about you." He ran a hand through his hair. Newt laughed softly, shoving his foot back into his boot and standing.
"Sorry Tommy. Coffee?" He asked, snatching Thomas's now empty cup.
"Sure, why not. But I'm not done with you mister."
"Oh no please, maybe I'll keep you guessing. I feel so mysterious and hot." He scoffed, sauntering off. Thomas rolled his eyes and laughed quietly to himself. His thoughts drifted to that of the pill bottle. He knew he shouldn't look, that would be horrible. That would be an invasion of privacy and this new partnership was going so well. His fingers fumbled, agitated, eyes shifting back and forth toward the small bottle, pondering it. Newt would never know, he had his back to Thomas, and other than to go to the loo and get more coffee, the blond never left his desk. If Thomas was going to do it, it had to be then.
He glanced around, making sure no one was watching. Newt had his back to his desk, engaging in small talk with Winston as he stirred Thomas's coffee. Thomas took a deep breath and quickly snatched up the pills. He pulled them closer to his chest, covering his hands with his figure as he leant over them. Thomas turned the bottle around in his fingers until he found the label. His eyes widened as guilt stabbed him in the gut. That was a mistake, he should have never done it. It wasn't painkillers like he'd thought, wasn't a medical issue that maybe Newt was just too embarrassed about too share. No.
They were anti-depressants.
The man quickly put them back where they belonged and curled up on himself. He should have respected his partners privacy.
_"It wasn't my place to go snooping through his stuff. That kinda shit is the stuff you tell someone when your ready, and I ruined that right for him. That was so wrong of me, why am I such a nosy piece of klunk?"_ He scolded himself as Newt limped back over. He placed Thomas's coffee next to him and sunk back down in his chair.
"Whats wrong Thomas?" He frowned, as Thomas's head came out of his hands.
"Oh uh- It's nothing. Just..feel a little light headed. I'm gonna go take a walk for a bit, be back soon." he shot the blond his best grin, before hurrying from the office.
He made his way into the corridor, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in between the grey walls. It was empty, and quiet, but Thomas's thoughts were pounding in his ears as guilt speared as his stomach. He was so wrapped up in his guilt and self hatred that he crashed into Brenda.
"Shu- Thomas! Watch where your shucking going." She rolled her eyes as she steadied himself.
"Sorry Bren'" The man murmured, eyes glued to the floor. She was about to snap back a snarky remark, but her face fell and she stepped closer to her ex.
"Thomas, whats eating ya'?" She frowned, placing a hand on his bicep. |
41735c74a86540968a58073d69eb05ab | ['d4036be4f1d24b0c979a01b2283baebe'] | Finnick is from District Four. He is expected to be able to do something as simple as gut and clean a fish. He stares at the scaly creature, blankly. The eyes of the fish are unmoving; dead. He can do this. He has to do this. Finnick stabs the blade into the rear of the fish. Blood trickles from the puncture wound, and out of the corner of his eye he can see his father nod approvingly. Determined, he tightens his grip on the blade and rips.
* * *
Finnick is eight when Heiilios attends his first Reaping Ceremony. His brother says he’s not afraid of being Reaped, but Finnick hears him try to stifle his sobs at night and knows that’s not true. The two of them share a room, and Finnick considers saying something reassuring to his brother, but ultimately considers otherwise when he can only picture Heiilios punching him in the stomach for his efforts. Tonight though, his brother is silent.
Finnick sits up and looks across the room to see his brother staring at the ceiling, fists clenching the blanket at his side. “Heii?” Finnick asks.
His brother doesn't answer him. He doesn't even look over, too focused on burning holes in the ceiling with his eyes.
The scene strikes Finnick as wrong, even if he doesn't completely understand why.
He considers what he can do. Heiilios would undoubtedly hate his pity, and it's not like Finnick has any advice.
Still.
“If you end up being reaped, can I have your fishing gear?”
As soon as the words leave his mouth Heiilios sits up and gives Finnick a long stare that goes right through him. “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” he finally asks.
Something Finnick knows that his parents do not is that Heiilios swears. A lot. But, never in front of their parents. Finnick thinks it’s hilarious considering the effort his parents, in particular, his father, makes not to curse around them. He suspects his brother isn’t looking for an answer, so Finnick just shrugs.
“I’d give you mine,” Finnick says in lieu of a response. In reality, he could care less about his brother’s fishing gear. His brothers fishing rod is nearly identical to his own. Finnick just wanted to see some other look on his brother’s face.
He wanted a reaction.
Heiilios stares at Finnick again, and the whites of his brother's eyes glow in the backdrop of the moon. Heiilios doesn’t say anything, so Finnick figures he’s just been ignored. Heiilios lies down again, and Finnick copies his brother.
There’s a nervous energy in the room that makes the air thick to breathe. Finnick finds his way over to the window, staring outside for a moment before pitching it open. “There,” he says after a slight ocean breeze rolls in. “It was too stuffy in here.”
District Four is somewhat of a career district. There are still training schools in other parts of the District, and once in a while, their District has a volunteer. Finnick knows, intellectually, that District Four is not the worst place to live. Tributes from their District are better prepared than most other tributes, except maybe District One and Two. His brother can weave nets, catch bait, lay traps, and can swim better than just about anyone else. Heiilios can also spearfish, a skill which Finnick has been begging his father to teach him. His brother is far more prepared at 12 years old than Finnick thinks he’ll ever be, but hearing his brother’s shuttering breaths, Finnick isn’t the one that needs reassurance.
Instead, he walks across the room to his brother's bed and shoves Heiilios' legs out of the way so that he can sit down. "Wha-" Heiilios starts, but Finnick ignores him. The bed groans loudly under his weight. Heiilios sits up a moment later, staring at Finnick. "What?" his brother snaps, but Finnick ignores the venom in his brother’s voice.
"You afraid?" Finnick asks. For the past week, Heiilios sounded like a broken record repeating the same, _'I'm not scared'_ too often to be believed. His brother doesn't answer, so he adds, "It's okay if you are." And really, it is. Finnick thinks that if there's anything left to be afraid about, then it's this. Their family doesn't talk about the Reaping. Their family doesn't talk about the Games either, and Finnick thinks that maybe they should if only to alleviate some of the tension that builds whenever they interact. The suffocating feeling spikes and wanes, but never really goes away. He notices the way his parents look at his brother with pitying eyes like Heiilios is some animal up for slaughter, and Finnick thinks that if he were his brother, he wouldn't want to talk to anyone either.
Heiilios stares at him for a long moment leaving Finnick scared that he said the wrong thing. The Capitol forbade the Districts from speaking poorly of the Games. Only two years ago, Finnick was forced to watch along with everyone else in their District, what happened to those who spoke poorly of the Games. He hates to think about the way the man was pinned down, flailing under the weight of several Peacekeepers after protesting the Games. He shudders at the memory.
Heiilios slowly turns away from Finnick and whispers, "I don't want to die, Finn" in wet, shaky breaths. Finnick watches the way his brother crumples after admitting the truth; glassy eyes finally spilling over like a ruptured dam. Heiilios' breathing grows staggered and uneven, and Finnick is suddenly worried about how he would explain why his brother started hyperventilating and passed out. His brother scrubs at his eyes and chants the same, _"I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, please, I don't want to die,"_ like the words themselves will keep reality at bay.
Finnick wants to say something to comfort his brother, but his throat constricts painfully, and no sound comes out. | f5783506fec041ca9cbeee2b816b999b | ['d4036be4f1d24b0c979a01b2283baebe'] | She pulls on another sweatshirt, and some raggy old sweatpants this time, before finally sinking into her bed, letting the mountain of blankets consume her. She's dozing off when she hears the front door open and close. It's creaky, loud, and reassuring all at once. And even though Nojiko treads quietly- because she's considerate like that- that doesn't stop the kitchen light from bleeding in through the crack under her door.
The lingering tension in her shoulders fades away, and she's asleep seconds later.
Hearing Nojiko really shouldn't be such a relief.
2. Chapter 2
“Dammit Bug!” Nami yells, pounding on the door. “Open up. I know you’re in there.” She shoves her freezing hands in her thin coat pockets. Stupid New York and its stupid weather.
She taps her foot and counts impatiently.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
“Bug! Answer the door already. I know you can—”
The door cracks open slightly.
“What the hell do you want girl?” The man behind the door scowls at her.
She flashes the watch from inside her coat, smiling brightly. He slams the door in her face. _How chivalrous_ she thinks, rolling her eyes. It takes another minute before she can hear the chain rattling and unlocking.
“Get in” he snaps at her, reopening the door a moment later.
She pushes past him. “Good morning to you too” she drawls sarcastically.
She takes her hands from her pocket and blows on them. “God, Bug. Too cheap to turn up the heat? It’s hardly warmer in here than out there.” she motions toward the door.
“Shut up.” The man snaps. “Were not open yet.”
“Obviously” Nami rolls her eyes. It’s been a while since her last visit. She cranes her neck, eyes roaming the room and lets out a low whistle. “Your decorator has done an excellent job with the place.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“No, I’m serious!” she places a mock hand over her heart. “Whoever they are did a fantastic job. Really captured the whole ‘packrat’ look.” She twirls her hair innocently. “I mean, that’s what you were going for, right?”
He stops suddenly and spins around. “Shut the fuck up, thief. Or you can go fence your goods somewhere else.” He scowls at her, blue lips turning up in disgust. The thing about Bug she muses, is he tries so hard to look dangerous and mean, but when you wear blue lipstick and matching nail polish, it’s hard to ever be considered anything worse than annoying.
She makes a confused face. “Sorry, did I say packrat? Cause I meant Rat Pack. You know, like Sinatra and them.”
He gives her a look.
“Right, right” she waves her hand absently. “Lead the way.”
She follows him into the back, where she’s met with dozens of fake purses and mounds of tarnished jewelry. Looks like he hasn’t cleaned up any since her last visit. She makes a face, but says nothing.
“Alright, let’s see what you got” he makes a grabbing motion at her.
“It’s Armani.” She states, gently taking the watch from her inside pocket. “Retail price, $299.”
“ _I’ll_ be the judge of that.” He sneers, grabbing it from her.
“Right, okay, whatever.” Nami rolls her eyes at him. He’s a lot of theatrics, Bug, but she appreciates his crass personality. She almost finds it refreshing, really. The fact that he has no concept of what’s socially acceptable. No manners, politeness or pretending to care. She wonders what that must be like. It sounds freeing, she thinks.
“$130.” He sets the watch down looking up.
She barks a laugh. Yeah, right. “$190” she retaliates.
“$145” he says, eyes narrowing.
She inspects her ruby red nails; all perfectly long and filed. Leftover from last night. She picks at the paint, resolving to take it off when she gets home. “$175. Final offer.” There’s a red splotch of paint on the side of her thumb where she messed up. She scowls at it.
“$160, or you can leave.”
“Fine.” Nami shrugs. “But I want that.” She points to the mound of unsellable goods scattered along the back wall. Like the ‘Island of Misfit Toys’ only with jewlry and antiques. She saunters over and snatches a rustic bracelet from the top of the pile. “This one. Here.” She slips it around her wrist and waves it around carelessly. She’s only doing it to annoy him, and can’t hide her grin when she sees that it’s working.
“Hey! Get that off, now!” Bug yells at her.
“Or what?” she taunts. “It’s not like it works anyways.” And it’s true. It looked like some sort of old compass, but the needle keeps swaying back and forward.
He grabs her wrist. “Lemme see.” She counts to three before pulling her hand back.
“Geez Bug, you have quite a way with the ladies, don’t you?” She says, casually wiping her wrist on her jeans.
“I wouldn’t know, considering I don’t deal with ladies. Only egocentric thieves.”
“Ouch. You almost hurt me there. But nice touch with the big word. Now give me my money so I can go.” Nami smirks, making grabbing motions at him.
He gives her one of his shit-eating grins.
“Alright sweetheart, here ya go.” He reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Nami eyes it with disdain. You can’t pick the pocket of someone who’s expecting it.
He watches her eye his wallet and smirks at her giving a shrill laugh. “Like what you see, eh?”
She flips him off, only making him laugh louder. “Come on.” She motions for him to hurry the fuck up.
“Fine.” He shrugs, shoving the money at her. “Now leave.”
She counts the money and—
“The hell? Is this some kind of joke?”
“Hmm?” he looks up at her lazily. “I’m hardly a joking man, sweetheart.”
“The fuck you are! Give me the rest of my money.” Nami demands. “You shorted me $60.” |
82ffd40d12004f6eabc3fbdf62c4a56c | ['d40eca7c88434a72a9e546d45b79bfed'] | Quick as a cobra, Sing shot Arthur in the leg. The latter cried in pain as the smaller man straddled him and cuffed his hands behind his back. Sing gave Arthur a good pummeling just in case.
Ash ran to the hostage, who was wheezing at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t dare pull the dagger out as a shadow fell on them.
“Captain!”
Ash turned to find Alex, and his shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of their team medic. “Alex, he needs medical aid. Quickly.”
He stepped aside as Alex knelt beside the young man. Ash looked over his shoulder at Sing who was sitting on an unconscious Arthur.
“Is he gonna live?” he asked the younger man.
Sing nodded, brushing his bangs from his dark, penetrating eyes. “Where’s Shorter?”
“Fuck!” Ash exclaimed, turning to the stairs.
But Shorter was already making his way down, aided by Bones and King.
“Guys came in through the window,” Shorter said, grinning, a hand wrapped protectively around his bandaged middle.
He dropped his gaze to Arthur and Sing, who gave him a cheeky wave, then to the hostage Alex was working on.
“Do we know who this is?” he asked aloud.
Ash narrowed his eyes at the unconscious young man. “I think he’s Japanese. One of the missing tourists probably. Although I don’t know why Arthur was dragging him along instead of killing him.”
“And why’s he half-naked?” Shorter pressed as Bones and King propped him against the wall.
A heavy feeling settled in Ash’s stomach as he remembered the chain around the man’s ankle. “He was tied to the bed,” he replied. “Arthur was waiting for me behind the door, but this one tried to warn me.”
“So…” Shorter began, “Arthur was keeping him as his…sex slave?”
“Maybe,” Ash said sadly, a chill spreading down his spine. He shook his head, trying to dispel unwanted memories that were trying to crawl to the surface. “Although it doesn’t explain why he was so adamant on bringing this one with him.”
“Maybe he grew attached,” Bones said, shrugging, running a hand through his russet-colored hair.
It was starting to get too long. Ash would have to remind him to get a haircut.
“Yeah,” King piped up, crossing his big bronze arms against his chest, “maybe he’s Arthur’s favorite or something.”
“Hey,” Sing suddenly said from where he now stood beside Arthur’s limp form, “I think I know who that is.” He was on his tablet, tapping on an image. He enlarged it and showed it to Ash. “Call the Wolf. He needs to hear this.”
A low gasp of surprise escaped Ash’s lisps before he said into the comms, “Wolf, this is the Lynx, come in. You there? Over.”
“Yeah, Lynx, what happened? Over.”
Ash took a deep breath. “We found the photojournalist. Ibe’s nephew. We found Eiji Okumura.”
***
Everything hurt. He was sore all over.
And most of all, he was terrified.
Eiji couldn’t see anything. It was all so dark, and when he tried to raise his hand, he couldn’t. It felt like lead.
He took a deep breath, but that hurt, too.
He grunted in pain, and a calloused hand settled on his arm.
“Eiji?”
Immediately, Eiji’s eyes flew open, but he had to close them again at the onslaught of so much light.
“Ugh…Who—?”
He opened his eyes slowly and was met by the sight of worried green eyes, shining like gems, and a young, handsome face.
“Hello,” the stranger said.
Eiji drew back into the bed and looked around. It looked like a hospital, and the man in front of him wasn’t carrying a weapon. He also looked familiar, but Eiji didn’t want to take chances.
“Do you remember me?” the stranger asked. “Do you know where you are?”
Eiji opened his mouth to speak, then realized how dry his throat was.
The stranger immediately poured him a glass of water. “Do you want me to get the nurse for you?”
Eiji shook his head and drank the water.
“Slowly, slowly,” the strange said, one hand outstretched as if he wanted to touch Eiji but then thought better of it.
“Where…where am I?” Eiji managed to say after he finished the water.
“You’re in St. Sophie’s Hospital. What’s the last thing you remember?”
What’s the last thing he remembered?
Pain in his chest…wild blue eyes and messy blond hair…Arthur. Frederick Arthur. That was the man’s name…
And he was dragging Eiji, touching him like he owned him…
But then someone stopped him…
Eiji gasped and looked at the stranger’s face.
“It was you! You—you saved me! You saved me from Arthur!”
The stranger looked shocked for a second at Eiji’s outburst, then a smile appeared on his face, making his eyes look softer.
“Actually, _you_ saved me. If you hadn’t shot at him, I wouldn’t have been able to escape.”
“Sh-shot?” Eiji looked down at his bruised and scratched hands. “I shot someone…with a gun.” His breath hitched. “I shot someone.”
Hands that had never been raised to hurt someone…
Hands that had never touched a gun before that day…
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”
A hand touched his shoulder briefly.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved my life, and you helped capture Arthur.”
At that, Eiji’s head snapped up. “He’s been captured? He’s…he’s… He won’t come for me?” Hot tears pricked his eyes. “He…he won’t touch me anymore?”
A shadow fell on the stranger’s eyes for a second, a frown marring his face, and Eiji feared that he was wrong. That Arthur was still free, out there.
“Yes, he’s been captured,” the emerald-eyed stranger said, the soft smile climbing back to his lips. “He won’t touch you ever again.”
Eiji closed his eyes, and the tears tumbled down.
The door to his room opened.
“ _Ei-chan!_ ”
Eiji looked up, and a wide smile pulled at his lips. “ _Ojisan!_ ” | 78f182c25c684d4f8792cb13e598c170 | ['d40eca7c88434a72a9e546d45b79bfed'] | In fact, it was too much silence that Grantaire almost forgot he wasn’t the only one inside the shop. He cursed again, enough to out-swear a shipful of sailors. He waited for a minute to get his eyesight adjusted to the darkness before crawling his way around the shop.
_Fuck_. If the guy was a criminal. If it was some thief he let in. If it was a fuckin’ murderer! He inched his way towards the backroom, where the dim light was still lit. His heart continued to hammer in his chest. He slipped inside the backroom and gasped.
The man he had let in - actually he looked younger than Grantaire, his face soft, his hair light and smooth - was looking at his painting, his eyes wide. A cold dread filled Grantaire’s stomach.
In one move, Grantaire tore the other man’s hand away, his own cold against the other’s warm one. “Who are you?”
The other man gulped, brown eyes impossibly wide now that he’d seen Grantaire’s face. The man recognized him. He recognized Grantaire. He recognized Matthew.
“You’re Grantaire,” the man said in an almost reverent exhale.
“I don’t go by that name anymore,” he sneered, clenching the man’s shirt in his right hand. “Now who are you and why are people chasing you?”
“Guard,” the man wheezed. “That was the National Guard.”
Grantaire released him with a gasp, as if burned. Not the local police, but the National Guard. That meant…
“Who are you?” Grantaire repeated, stepping away but keeping the other man in his sight.
The man took a deep breath… and _smiled_.
“You can call me Jehan.” He reached out a hand. “And we’ve been looking for you, Grantaire. We've been looking for you for a really long time.”
4. Another Day, Another Destiny
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Grantaire learns more about the foolhardy new group of freedom fighters. And despite his best efforts to stay away, he finds himself drawn into another wave of revolution. Because that's how much he wants to punish himself.
The tiny pulse of his watch nearly lulled Grantaire to sleep. Unlike most people, he still wore the old mechanical timekeeper, a gift from Cosette for his birthday, because it was less complicated than the newer digital ones.
Or maybe he just had a thing about things from the past.
Except his old name on the lips of this stranger and his eerie smile.
“So,” the man - Jehan - began.
“Quiet.”
Jehan shut his mouth, his smile dimming a little. “You’re Grantaire.”
“Not anymore.” Grantaire turned away from the still grinning man seated cross-legged at the foot of his cot. He sneaked a glance at his watch. It was already five minutes to eleven, way past curfew. He fidgeted on his cot, silently thanking Cosette for providing him with one when she realized he liked to stay late… to do something.
Jehan picked at his shirt - sweater, really - and bit his lower lip. He looked a little bit older than Cosette, but not much. Still, he made Grantaire wary. If the National Guard was after him, then he was a dangerous man. Not a mere thief or runaway or someone disobeying the curfew.
Yet Grantaire couldn’t bring himself to throw him out. Instead, he let the younger man stay in the backroom with him, to wait out the long hours till six in the morning.
“Grantaire,” Jehan began again.
Grantaire sighed and ran a hand down his face, resting it on his jaw, rubbing at his stubble. “R.”
“Are what?”
“Call me ‘R’.”
“‘Are’?” Jehan echoed, his brows furrowed as he inched closer. “As in the verb?”
Grantaire grit his teeth and glared at the younger man, who didn’t look like he was mocking anything. The kid looked so innocent, so genuine, Grantaire wanted to pull his own curls.
“I meant the letter ‘R’. That’s what people call me now. Not Grantaire. Never Grantaire.”
Jehan nodded slowly, his eyes darting towards the paintings that Grantaire had covered. “So that’s why we couldn’t find you.”
“Who the hell is ‘we’?” Grantaire spat, and when Jehan flinched at his tone, he amended with, “And why’re you people looking for me?”
“You know why we’re looking for you,” Jehan said. He leaned against Grantaire’s cot, his eyes impossibly huge, which Grantaire knew must be a deliberate effect to look pitiful. “You’re -”
“-not the person you’re looking for,” Grantaire finished, sitting up. “You know you’re not the first one. You think you and your friends can continue what we’ve done? You’re an idiot. And if you don’t warn your friends, you’ll find their bodies floating on the Seine the next day.”
Jehan blinked, then bowed his head.
Grantaire never knew what to expect from people like Jehan, usually young blood who thought they could continue the fight for freedom, only for their bloated bodies to be found floating under the bridge before they could even come up with a name for their group.
“We’re different,” Jehan said, lifting his head up. “If only you could see -”
“Drop it. Just be thankful I let you in.”
Jehan propped an elbow beside Grantaire’s legs. “Thank you, by the way.”
“As long as you leave me alone,” Grantaire muttered, his eyelids feeling heavy. “And as long as you don’t tell anyone about…” He jerked his head towards the paintings.
Jehan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I won’t! Of course not!”
Grantaire couldn’t explain how a bigger part of him actually believed Jehan, but there was still the smaller part that said the younger man couldn’t be trusted. Maybe he was a spy. Either way, Grantaire would have to move the paintings. Hide them. Burn them? The thought made him nauseous.
Jehan tried to strike up conversation, but when Grantaire only responded with grunts, he stopped and they waited out the dawn, bleary-eyed and tired - well, at least Grantaire was. Jehan had slept, slumped beside Grantaire’s cot.
*** |
68d53704e72f4723b66b8bfb7361a207 | ['d4139808039d4bf481d1f34733107bfb'] |
Whatever it takes.
“Aleks Cameron.”
That was one name that Five had hoped would be eliminated from his list. He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to consider him. Unfortunately, he was on the list… and he was looking to fit really well, the odds were not in poor Aleks’s favor.
Five was about to rerun the map, look to see if maybe there was a mistake, a way to replace that name with the name of someone, anyone else, when Luther walked in.
“What is all this?” He asked, voice holding a little awe, and a lot of confusion.
“It’s a probability map” Five responded, although he was checking a portion of the map that could hold the key to removing the name, so he probably sounded disinterested.
“Probability… probability of what?” Luther was sounding more and more confused.
“The probability of whose death might save the world” Five turned to look at Luther, he had checked the map, it was right, of course it was. His internal upset that the map was right, probably manifested itself as him sounding annoyed, but that wasn’t important. He had to get that damn name off the table.
What Five said during those contemplations, was the answer to an unasked question:
“I’ve narrowed it down to four.” Which was reassuring, if he just killed the others first, maybe he would not need to kill Aleks Cameron.
“So, are you saying one of these four people cause the apocalypse?” Luther’s voice was colored with hope.
“No, I’m saying their death might prevent it.” The annoyance was creeping back into his voice and Five knew it. The problem was that little of his mind was involved with this conversation. Because he had to plan how to kill the other three, before he would be forced to kill Aleks.
There was a paused, filled with silence, although Five barely aware of it. He was too consumed with his internal conflict.
“I’m still not following.”
This was getting tedious.
Five went on to explain the butterfly effect caused by minuscule changes to the timeline.
Luther went on to basically call Five a heartless bastard. Five didn’t mind though, this was why he was here, save the day. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty.
Whatever it takes.
He just really hoped it wouldn’t take killing Aleks.
Things got ugly when the rifle was revealed. Luther clearly got angry at the thought of Five going out to kill innocent people, and that was exacerbated by the presence of the rifle.
Luther did something rash then. He grabbed Dolores and held her out the window.
Five pointed the rifle at his brother without thought. He saw red. Not only was Luther threatening Dolores, he was riding his morally high horse at the same time, probably the same bloody horse that got him killed in the apocalypse where Five didn’t intervene.
“Put. Her. Down.” Five managed to grind out.
“Put the gun down, you’re not going anywhere today.” Luther’s voice was sickly sweet, like he believed that Five would be so easily cowed.
“It’s either her or the gun, you decide.”
And Five did.
The gunshot rang out clear as a bell.
Luther was still looking down at his chest, shock clear in his features when he let go of Dolores, Five jumped and grabbed her before she fell. As he brought the love of his life to his chest, a thud shattered the moment. Luther had fallen to the floor, gasping for breath.
“I’m sorry Luther, I really am.”
Five jumped into a nearby alleyway and fell to the cement.
Drained.
He had Dolores with him, and her expression registered a grim acceptance like the one she wore when she knew Five needed to drink the amount he did.
Whatever it took.
Five started to catch his breath then, he had so hoped, foolishly of course, that just this once, the fates wouldn’t existed simply to mock him… This time, he had been so desperate for things to turn out differently. In his favor for once.
He hadn’t wanted to kill Aleks Cameron.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A day passed, and Five spent that day traveling as far as he could, not through time, simply through space.
He didn’t want to be there when his siblings realized what he had done. He knew they would understand as well as Luther… As well as Aleks had. Only he didn’t think he could kill any of the others.
Their names had been eliminated from the probability map near the beginning. It would make it much harder to kill them. Although if he was being honest with himself he knew that he was in that time period to save his family, not kill them.
At least math was still on his side.
Whatever it took.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Killing his larger, younger brother hadn’t upset Five nearly as much as he had thought it would. At least not after a day of internally chanting the same ten words.
“Aleks had to die so that everyone else could live.”
He supposed he had come to accept the fact that Aleks had to die when he had written the name down. And when the name didn’t leave.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still slightly upset.
He took to bottle after not too long, he told himself he was celebrating.
He was mourning.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was when he was still working in correction back at the commission that he had learnt Luther’s real name. It was on the commission’s documents pertaining to Five.
Luther was, as far as the commission could tell, the only one of the seven that had been named by his birth parents.
Five hadn’t thought it pertinent information then, and he hadn’t considered the name at all once he was back with his family.
Until he saw the name Luther hanging around on his probability map.
He decided to use the name Aleks Cameron instead, to allow himself to start distancing himself already.
If he used the name that pertained to a man who was not Five’s own brother, it would be easier.
Easier to do whatever it took.
Just in case the probability map was right.
Just in case.
**Author's Note:**
> I'm really not sure if this is good or bad. Every time I read it I have a different opinion on it. So I decided to stop agonizing over it, and post it. I would of course then love to know what you thought of this piece! | 8d5ba068766140d58226d181833e9463 | ['d4139808039d4bf481d1f34733107bfb'] |
And then there were Five.
“What’s with all the lollygagging?” Came the annoyed comment.
“Five! Get down!”
But Luther was too late. Gunfire rang out, and Five was still disorientated after having traveled such a long distance to get to his family in time. A bullet went straight through his brain.
The world went silent.
Luther, still crouched behind some seats in the theater was stuck, staring at a growing pool of crimson. The flow originating in his brothers’ head. His brother that was too young, and too old.
It was only when Klaus ran in that the world started to exist around him. Klaus was yelling about Cha-Cha, but that didn’t matter. Klaus ducked down behind some chairs and made his way over to his siblings as quickly as possible, thankfully not getting shot in the process. He was still yelling about Cha-Cha when he got close enough to see Five. He stopped yelling.
Luther was finally fully aware of his surroundings at that point and he noticed something. The violin had gone silent. The only sound in the theater was the gunfire. He looked over to Allison and noticed that tears were already wetting her face. She hadn’t dealt with Bens death well either.
Something else grabbed his attention then, Klaus. He was standing up with tears just starting to roll, and his hands were alive with light. Luther wanted to yell at him, to tell him to get down, like he had told Five, when an ethereal Ben emerged, and all hell broke loose. The assassins were decimated.
Diego flew from his side, going after the newly emerged Cha-Cha, and watching him go is what finally brought his attention to the star of the hour.
Vanya.
The violin was held limp in her hand, the bow already dropped to the floor. The darkness around her eyes had receded, and she was just Vanya, she had watched Five get shot, and that was suddenly more important than her anger. She didn’t have experience watching siblings get killed. Sure, she had nearly killed Allison, but it was different when you watched a death, when you were there to help but didn’t act.
She dropped the violin, a sob escaping her. All the while staring at the body of her brother that had chosen to trust to trust her over everyone else.
Allison stood and went over to her, slowly. The slowness could have been explained by fear, or it could have been explained by her feeling the same numbness that had spread through Luther’s own body.
The two sisters embraced and started crying in earnest, Klaus fell to the ground and Diego reappeared from where he had followed Cha-Cha behind stage. Luther asked him where he had been, and a broken response was given.
“Honoring a memory.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“We are gathered here today to honor a memory.”
Luther’s deep voice rumbled. They were all standing in the ruins of what had been the court yard, they had cleared away as much of the debris as they could. Pogo had already been buried. He wasn’t cremated, because he has deathly afraid of fire. The weather was clear, and a light breeze ruffled the dried leaves on the ground.
“Five was a hero. He came back to us to protect us, to save the world. To do the right thing. He ended up paying the greatest price.” Luther’s voice was already taking on a scratchy nature when Klaus interrupted, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Five was… a mess.” He spoke, the slightest traces of mirth in his eyes. It was soon extinguished. “He was a mean old bastard at times, and he was a lovable teenager when it suited him. He spent his life trying to get back to us, and now… he’s back… Permanently.” Being sober was certainly bringing Klaus back to reality. “He was always there you know, before he left. He always teleported into my room whenever I stole a bottle from dear old daddy. He didn’t berate me, he just sat with me…” Klaus’s voice cracked. “He was a guardian until the end.”
Allison touched her hand to Klaus’s arm when it became clear that he couldn’t go on. “He was so frustrating.” She began, maintaining an air of being aloof. “You could ask him a hundred questions and he would brush off every one. I don’t know why he didn’t warn us in the beginning, maybe if he had…” The façade was breaking quickly. “…Maybe if he had we could have… we could have helped him, or spent more time with him… I don’t know, I…” Allison broke down into sobs, she was still terrible when it came to dealing with death it seemed.
It was then that Vanya stepped forward.
“It was my fault.” She said in a voice that screamed of grief and conviction. “I knew in the beginning about the apocalypse, I went on to cause it. It was my fault that he had to live through an apocalypse, and it was my fault that he died trying to stop this one. He trusted me, and I killed him.” The tears were streaming down her face now, but she showed no sign of stopping, and sent a death glare at Luther when he tried to interrupt. “I always believed Five would come back, I always dreamed that he cared enough to not stay away for long… I prepared for his return for over two years after he left. I will spend many more than that to atone for what I did to him. Thank you Five… you saved me… and you saved… everyone.” Vanya stepped back to cry.
Everyone looked to Diego to see if he would say anything, but he remained stone faced, as if he weren’t at his younger/older brothers funeral. Luther cleared his throat disappointment clear in his features. “I think I’ll spread the ashes now. The breeze is picking up. The urn was nondescript, and so was the ash that was blown away in the strengthening breeze.”
It was then that Diego made a move.
“Goodbye brother.” He said with pain distorting his voice. “You lived a long life, not a good life perhaps, but see now the ruins that you are being blown from… you kept this from spreading.” He looked up, towards the darkening sky. “May you know peace now as you never knew in life.”
Diego turned to Allison and without saying anything, they embraced. There was nothing but raw emotion in that embrace, and all the remaining Hargraves joined in.
Things were not mended, it was doubtful that they ever would be but at least they were together. The five of them.
**Author's Note:**
> Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed. I know it wasn't the best fic ever written, because I don't have any experience. Any comments, be they compliments or criticisms are welcome. |
48b6b43c233a495196501cb0818d18b8 | ['d438e02f04fc453480e5e15cbc900e66'] | Kaito's face was grim. "The flow of time between your world and mine are fluctuating rapidly. At this rate, we might be obliterated before you even find your way here. I wish you good luck in getting here before our world ends."
Mizael found himself floating farther away from Kaito's spirit, high up into the skies until he couldn't even see Zarc. Then, darkness obscured his vision until he knew no more.
* * *
Mizael blinked his eyes open to see Durbe's relieved grey eyes on him. "I'm not dead, so stop looking so relieved," he grumbled.
"You've been sleeping for a whole day and even Vector's air horn couldn't wake you up; of course we'd be concerned. Everyone's waiting downstairs."
"Did Kaito leave?"
"Yeah, he left this morning. He told us not to worry about you."
"See, he's not worried. Did Kurosaki get his Duel Disk to work with our D-Pads yet?"
"Yeah. He wanted to wait for you to wake up before dueling anyone, though. Yuma challenged him again a few hours ago."
"Right," Mizael mumbled.
Yesterday, Kurosaki and Kaito had came to the Kamishiro mansion to talk with the other Barians. They had discussed the prophecy and Zarc. Kaito had given Shun a few choices on what to do while he travelled out of the country with the oldest Arclight brother (Mizael couldn't for the life of him remember whether to call him Christopher or V), and Kurosaki had obviously chosen to duel. Yuma had challenged him right after Shun finished talking, but Kurosaki's Duel Disk wasn't compatible with the technology in the D-Pads, so the duel had ended up being terminated before it even began. Ryoga had kicked Yuma, Kaito and Kurosaki out of the mansion as it was getting too late, and Kurosaki had agreed to work with Faker and Tron to make his Duel Disk compatible with the D-Pads.
"The duel is being held in the backyard," Durbe said, breaking Mizael out of his thoughts. "Let's go."
* * *
Kurosaki stood calmly on one side of the backyard, his arms crossed. Yuma faced him a distance away, an excited look on his face. Astral floated beside him, looking quite neutral.
"Two on one?" Kurosaki called over to Yuma.
_"No. I shall stay out of this duel,"_ Astral said.
Yuma gave Astral a surprised look. "You're staying out of this one?"
_"Your dueling skills have improved greatly after I dueled you, Yuma. I don't believe you'll need me for the Duel against Kurosaki."_
"Alright then, let's do this! _Kattobingu daze, ORE!_ " Yuma yelled.
Shun raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's his trademark phrase," Ryoga cut in before Yuma could reply. "Don't mind him. You guys will start with 4000 LP. Since Yuma was the challenger, you get to go first, Kurosaki. I don't know how Action Duels work, but I expect that you'll make it clear during dueling, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then get started."
"Duel Disk, set! D-Gazer, set!"
_Field Magic: Crossover._
Glowing blue platforms appeared in the air, and a soft pop of a bubble scattered glowing cards over the fiele. Everyone besides Kurosaki gaped at the scene.
Kurosaki and Yuma drew their opening cards.
"DUEL!"
"The first turn is mine!" Kurosaki declared. "I'll summon Raidraptors: Vanishing Lanius." A metallic bird of prey appeared on his field. "Vanishing Lanius' effect: if I successfully Normal Summon it, I can Special Summon another Vanishing Lanius from my hand!"
_**(Raidraptors-Vanishing Lanius: Winged-Beast/Effect ATK: 1300 DEF: 1600 Level: 4 Attribute: DARK)** _
"Two Level 4s..." Rio said. "Is he going to do it?"
"I'll set 1 card and end my turn."
Mizael's eyes narrowed at the blank expression on Kurosaki's face. _He definitely has something up his sleeve._
"Alright! My turn, draw!" Yuma grinned. "I'm not holding back! I'll summon Goblindbergh!"
_**(Goblindbergh: Warrior/Effect ATK: 1400 DEF: 0 Level: 4 Attribute: EARTH)** _
__
"Goblindbergh's Monster Effect: When I summon this monster, I can Special Summon one Level 4 or lower Monster from my hand! I'll summon Ganbara Knight!"
_**(Ganbara Knight: Warrior/Effect ATK: 0 DEF: 1800 Level: 4 Attribute: LIGHT)** _
__
_Two Level 4s..._ Shun thought as he observed Yuma. _Is he...?_
"I'll overlay Goblindbergh and Ganbara Knight! With these two monsters, I build the overlay network! XYZ SHOUKAN! Come forth! Number 39: Aspiring Emperor--Hope!"
Shun raised an eyebrow. _A Number...?_
**_(Number 39: Aspiring Emperor--Hope: Warrior/XYZ/Effect ATK: 2500 DEF: 2000 Rank: 4 Attribute: LIGHT)_ **
"Alright! Hope, attack his Vanishing Lanius! Hope Sword Slash!"
Instead of staying still and watching his monster about to be destroyed, Kurosaki ran and leapt onto a glowing blue platform, and then another, before plucking a floating card out of the sky and setting it on his Duel Disk. "Action Magic: Evasion!"
Yuma gaped as Hope's sword missed and hit the ground instead of Kurosaki's Vanishing Lanius. "What the heck was that?!"
"Action Magic: magic cards unique to Action Duels. They can be added to the hand at any phase...if you can find them. Only one Action card can be added to your hand every time." Shun leapt off the blue platform and landed on the ground gracefully. "Are you going to continue your turn?"
"Alright," Yuma said dejectedly. "I'll set two cards and end my turn."
"My turn! Draw!" A slow smile came over Shun's face before he turned back to the field. "I'll summon Fuzzy Lanius! When I control another Raidraptors monster other than this one, I can Special Summon it from my hand!"
_**(Raidraptors-Fuzzy Lanius: Winged-Beast/Effect ATK: 500 DEF: 1500 Level: 4 Attribute: DARK)** _
"I'll use these 3 monsters to overlay!"
_Here it comes!_ Mizael thought.
The gold and purple spiral formed in front of Shun and the three metallic birds turned into purple rays of light, flying into the spiral.
"Obscured falcon! From adversity, raise your sharpened claws! Spread your wings of rebellion! XYZ SHOUKAN! Come forth! Rank 4! Raidraptors: Rise Falcon!" | 3ebb99b3ef4c4608a3b2d474034b091e | ['d438e02f04fc453480e5e15cbc900e66'] |
Vengeance of the Twin Galaxy-Eyes
**Author's Note:**
> This is a new concept I'm trying out, it's remaining as a one-shot until I can make up some more of the plot (may take a few months). I will be updating Dimensional Rebel soon, I was busy with VRAINS (go watch if you haven't) and exams. Enjoy!
Tenjo Kaito and his twin, Mizael, were undoubtedly the best duelists in Heartland. No one could stand up to them in terms of dueling. The brothers were fearsome as a tag team pair and alone. They won every single match they had in the Clover Dueling School, their only losses to each other. They were perfectly matched. If Kaito won over Mizael one duel, Mizael would win the next one. Yet, even with all that skill, they weren't arrogant at all. Kaito, the older twin by 17 minutes, loved to entertain young kids with his duels, and would often help out struggling duelists by giving them tips on their decks and strategies. Mizael, the younger twin, would often be seen helping out his brother or teaching young children to duel.
Even though they were twins, they looked quite different. Kaito had spiked blond hair with light green bangs, while Mizael had long blond hair flowing down his back. Both of them had bright, piercing blue eyes that were able to see through dueling strategies in mere seconds. Their decks were both centered around dragons, Kaito wielding the infamous Galaxy-Eyes Cipher Dragon and Mizael wielding an equally powerful Galaxy-Eyes Chronos Dragon. Alone, they were powerful; together, they were unstoppable.
The Tenjo family lived in the Heartland Tower. Their parents weren't home often, so the twins spent their time taking care of their younger brother, Haruto. Haruto loved to play with his older brothers, and they often made up games just for him. The twins couldn't have imagined a better life than the one they were leading.
Academia invaded one day, and their happy lives fell apart. Many of their friends were killed in the initial invasion or carded. The Resistance was hurriedly formed by the leaders of each dueling school and they desperately fought back against the invading forces. The Heart and Diamond schools were the first to fall, their duelists scattered or carded. All that was left was the Spade and Clover schools, who fought every day and scavenged for food and water supplies.
Haruto grew weak from the lack of food and the constant running around, so Kaito and Mizael put aside their hatred for Academia to find supplies to help their brother live. They ruthlessly attacked Academia bases and collected the supplies that were left behind when the soldiers fled for their lives, bringing the food back to Haruto and the other survivors of Heartland.
Mizael was able to steal an Academian Duel Disk one day, and with Kaito's technical knowledge, implemented the carding feature on their own Duel Disks. They shared the knowledge with the rest of the Resistance, but the first carded Academian soldiers belonged to Kaito and Mizael. The Spade branch were more resistant at first, but after Yuto and Kurosaki Shun implemented it, every duelist started using the carding feature to even out the tides.
One day, Ruri was kidnapped.
Shun grew angrier and hateful, Yuto being the only one who could calm him down. Both of them knew Ruri couldn't have been carded, and Kaito confirmed it (although he didn't tell Shun) from Sayaka's tearful testimony. Finally, Shun managed to find coordinates of another dimension off an Academian Duel Disk, and informed Kaito and Mizael of his and Yuto's decision to go rescue Ruri.
"We really need you here, but I know Ruri is more important," Mizael said as Shun and Yuto prepared to set off. "Bring her back safely, you two. We'll lead Spade in your place."
"Good luck," Kaito said simply. Mizael was often the better talker out of the two of them, and he was happy to let Mizael do all the talking.
"We'll bring her back," Yuto said.
"Come back safely as well," Mizael said.
Shun assented silently, impatient to get going. Yuto joined his best friend's side and they activated their Duel Disks, disappearing into purple light.
Mizael turned to Kaito. "It's the two of us left," he said sadly.
Kaito reached out and hugged his brother, one of the few affectionate actions he still did after the invasion. "We'll drive Academia out and rebuild our home."
"What about Mother and Father's cards?"
Kaito shook his head sadly. "We need to protect Haruto with all we've got. He's all we have left."
Mizael nodded silently.
* * *
They had failed.
Kaito's anguished screams pierced the air while tears flowed continuously from Mizael's eyes. He shook with anger and grief. In front of them, Haruto's card lay flat on the ground, the young boy's terrified face forever imprinted on the front.
"We failed him..." Mizael choked out in between sobs. "Haruto...I'm so sorry."
"Haruto..." Kaito reached out with a trembling hand, but he snatched his hand back as soon as it touched the card. "No..."
Mizael, the braver one, picked up Haruto's card and clasped it to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Haruto. It's all my fault."
The two of them were scavenging for food like usual when they had heard explosions in the area where the hideout was. They had carded the soldiers that had invaded the area, but it was too late to save Haruto.
Kaito moved closer to Mizael and reached out hesitantly. "Please...let me see him."
Mute with grief, Mizael gave the card to his brother.
Tears began flowing from Kaito's eyes again, and he violently hit the ground with his bare hands. "Academia...unforgivable...THEY WILL PAY!" He took a breath, and turned to his younger brother. "Mizael, will you stay with me no matter what?"
"I'll follow you wherever you go, Nii-san. You're the only person I have left." |
cbeea10db13e4e9c99d3b9c2202ef163 | ['d438fb9624fc4112a336f23c366a3456'] | _Nico reached for the handle and twisted but it didn’t budge. He looked around and noticed that it was darker now, still red but the kind of colour that belonged to red wine, deep and rich. The booming was getting louder too, faster. Panic started to build, first in small ripples and then eventually into waves that crashed against his ribcage as he shook the handle again, the door rattling on its hinges that held it on empty air._
_Boom. Boom. Boom._
_He whirled around again, sword pointing wildly at things that weren’t there. Then he heard it; rushing sounds, rumbling, like a waterfall and the ground shook, the air smelling heavily of iron. The flood hit him one second before he realised what was happening. Thick dark water rose rapidly, almost covering his chest and he struggled against the tide; however in the fading light he could see that it wasn’t water; it was red and metallic and thick. It was blood. Nico screamed, drinking in the blood and coughing it back up again as it surged around him. He weakly reached out his hand for the door, which was now floating upwards, out of reach. The booming was so loud, echoing in his ears as he continued to call out for someone to save him. If he managed to hang on, the blood would flow out again, just like a heart. But then Nico realised that this was Tartarus and it was designed to kill. He cried out one more time and then was submerged, the liquid reverberating with each boom, rattling his bones._
_He opened his mouth, inhaling the blood into his lungs and the BOOM, BOOM, BOOM and he was scared and he was drowning and he screamed-_
The banging on the door jolted Nico out of his reverie, sweating dripping down his face, mouth opened in partial scream, though whether he did or not, Nico didn't know. He sat stunned before the banging on the door spurred him into action. He pulled on pants and grabbed his sword. When he threw open the door, the face starring at him was not what he was expecting.
"Annabeth…what in the world-" The tears in her eyes stopped Nico short. Annabeth was crying. Nico grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly, his heart beating profusely, like he was still drowning. "Annabeth, what happened? Tell me now."
"P-Percy…" She wiped her tears; her eyes were scared but strong at the same time. "Help him Nico. He needs help."
"W-what's wrong with him?" Annabeth shook her head vigorously; grey eyes searching Nico's brown ones.
"He won't talk to me about, he hasn't been able to talk to me properly since we got back. You're the only other who has gone there, please Nico. You understand him somehow. He's going to hurt himself." Annabeth talked like she knew. His hands clenched and she just stood there, shaking her head like she couldn't understand anything anymore. That was ironic; the daughter of Athena couldn't think anymore. Nico wanted to laugh at his dry humour, but his gazed was focused towards Cabin Three. He looked at her and an understanding passed between them, conveyed through their eyes.
"Okay. I…okay."
Nico crossed the distance in long strides, his destination looming before him. At that moment he wished he could shadow travel right out of here. Right out of Camp Half-Blood and maybe even America, somewhere far away where no one could ever find him. But then Annabeth said Percy needed him. Not her but him. Perhaps that was why he kept moving his feet.
The door to Cabin Three was decorated with seashells, a ship's wheel as the door handle, placed right in the middle. Nico gulped, looking back only to find that Annabeth wasn't there anymore.
He opened it and prayed to whatever Gods that he wouldn't regret this
3. denying a thirsty man of water
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Well someone should punch me because I'm a bad person. I apologise PROFUSELY for never updating this until now, like almost six months, a year? I don't remember. Seriously, what the heck am I doing? Like I can't even begin to apologise enough, because I literally didn't even have a reason. Well I was busy with school and life in general, but DEFINITELY not busy enough not to update!
>
> Well, anyway here we are now.
>
> Just to let you know, I made some changes to the previous chapters. Nothing too major, I just changed the tense to past tense because I was confusing myself greatly. I also added in a bit of detail and fixed up stupid sentences that when I re-read made me cringe. You should probably re-read it but you don't have to!
>
> Anyway, onwards! Sorry again, omg.
_Nico wasn’t proud of the way he treated Percy for the next month, and he won’t ever be. His thoughts and feelings had sat deep below his chest, heavy with turmoil and constantly threatening to rise like hot pockets of air that bursted with a foul sulphur of twisted emotions like anger, guilt and longing._ | 6f7a94f139434c16931852ff7a26cd15 | ['d438fb9624fc4112a336f23c366a3456'] |
1. i looked for love in the wrong place
Being in love was one thing and then being in love with Akashi Seijuurou was another. He was...well, he was everything you wouldn't expect him to be. Kind but cruel and probably, no, most definitely crazy, though you'd never say that to his face. Unpredictable too, as if you say one thing, expecting one reaction but then get the complete opposite out of him. Yes Akashi was a whole other thing on a completely different scale and trying to put that into words was…a little difficult. Kuroko didn't mind though, he didn't mind that Akashi might be a little messed up. Kuroko didn't mind him suddenly slotting himself back into Kuroko's life after not seeing, hearing, or having any contact for seven years after the Winter Cup, heck he didn't even mind the fact that the last time he did see him, his heart was brushed off and scattered into the wind like some dust on a very fine tailored suit, which Akashi was wearing right now as they sat down for dinner in an expensive restaurant. No, all these little things were nothing to the comparison of just actually breathing, being, and having the attention of Akashi Seijuurou and Kuroko thought, and more than once, that seeing him again would undo him.
-
Light caught his wine glass as Akashi lifted it to his lips, taking a very precise and calculated sip, if you could call wine drinking precise and calculating. His ruby hair was slightly longer than the time at high school when the boy snatched Midorima's lucky item of the day -- which were scissors -- and cut his incessantly long bangs; and with those same scissors, proceeded to stab Kagami in the face. Kuroko thought that perhaps he was a little distracted, picking up on every little detail that Akashi did, like the way his coloured eyes flickered with amusement whenever he caught Kuroko staring at him, or the way he'd elegantly lean his elbow on the arm rest, propping his cheek up with one hand and giving orders to the waiter as if he were an Emperor. It sort of irritated Kuroko to no end. He was so distracted he didn't even realise Akashi was speaking to him until he received an impatient sigh and displeased frown.
"I'm sorry Akashi-kun, I wasn't paying attention." There was no point sugar coating his words, Akashi was much smarter than that and if it was anyone else but Kuroko, maybe Akashi would have killed them. Not really, but probably. Instead Akashi just gave a small laugh.
"No, it's quite okay Tetsuya. It's been many years." Akashi paused, as if contemplating his next words. "I'm sure...you have many questions for me."
Kuroko nodded slightly, an ill feeling rising in his chest. He'd been trying to avoid any confrontation, but he had to know, he had to know if it was just him. "Have you been keeping in touch with everyone else?" He asks mildly, watching closely for any inkling of being deceived. Akashi gave Kuroko a self-deprecating smile.
"I've kept in touch with the others. I met up with Shintarou not long ago, he's become a very respectable doctor wouldn't you agree? And well Daiki's causing quite a stir in America. The others I haven't heard from in quite a while, but Atsushi has started up his own patisserie, have you been there Tetsuya?" Akashi spoke as if he was disinterested in the doings of the others, aware that Kuroko himself already knew all of this.
"No I haven't been there yet." Kuroko mumbled, feeling like a little boy again even though he was now twenty-three. He took a bite of some weird salmon dish that tasted too refined for his senses, because first of all, he'd never been fine dining before, and second of all, he thought the prices on a dish that could fit into the palm of his hand was ridiculous and anyone who was willing to throw away thousands of yen on one dish was clearly questionable. Still, he dabbed his napkin at the corner of his mouth because he felt expensive tastes require proper etiquette. He was delaying of course, avoiding the inevitable, but as he looked Akashi straight in the eyes, he knew that it was time to stop running.
"How come you've never kept in contact with me?" If he was hoping to get a reaction out of Akashi, he was poorly mistaken. Akashi stayed silent, staring at the other with curious eyes until the silence became unbearable for Kuroko.
"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me after the last time, wasn't I right in assuming so Tetsuya?" Kuroko flinched in response, remembering with all too much clarity the way Akashi's eyes look as he rejected him without saying a single word. |
3c205379601e444ba48bac0a7ac6cb0f | ['d440f3f64b844a20a85cc9a6d036f16c'] |
It's your sex I can smell
**Author's Note:**
> For the tfa_kink prompt: _LINK_ It had to be set after the torture scene and the destruction of Starkiller Base with Poe having no knowledge of who he was actually having sex with. The setting/timeline is ambiguous because I'm not sure what's gonna happen post tfa, no one does. Unbeat'd all mistakes are my own!
Poe has not had actual sex since before his last mission, and considering what a great win it was for the resistance its a small price to pay. However it is a price to pay none the less and it is being taxed through Poe's ego. The pilots are a rowdy bunch and they don't seem to care much that Poe is technically their boss. They bust his balls all the same, not that Poe minds. He likes leading them this way, with them not above them. It fosters a kind of trust and admiration that they couldn't possibly function without.
Jessika is in the middle of bragging about her latest conquest while managing to still sound so respectful at the same time. "She had these legs man," Jessika hums softly in appreciation. "And the things she could do with her tongue, well..." she trails off and the small group made up of herself, Finn, Poe and Snap are left to fill in the blanks themselves.
"I can only imagine..." Poe sighs one part wistful two parts jealous. And really he only had himself to blame for the ball busting that would follow his comment. Jessika and Snaps have a lot to say about Poe's current dry spell and for the most part their good-natured jeers roll off his back like water and he laughs a long with them.
But then Finn looks up at him with these big dopey eyes and says, "It's okay if you're not having sex, Poe, because I've never even had sex." And its honestly such a sweet sentiment that Poe can't even be mad at him for it. But Finn beginning to take pity on him as well, that was just too much.
So that's how Poe finds himself here in the midst of possibly the best sex he has ever had. Ever.
Except that was a bit of an oversimplification wasn't it? The truth was it had nothing to do with Poe's dry spell, the ball busting, Finn's doey understanding eyes. It had everything to do with this _Stranger_. He'd locked eyes on Poe the moment Poe had entered the seedy establishment. His gaze had been calculating and appraising as if he was privy to some big secret. His eyes had been so intense, so beautiful, Poe was drawn to him almost immediately.
Flirting was almost completely useless. The Stranger, and this was all Poe could call him really because the man would not give him a name, had been silent all night. Taking in Poe's advances but offering nothing in return. Poe could almost cry from the futility of it all, did they even speak the same language? Except the way he stared at Poe, like he understood everything the pilot was saying, like he was interested, like he wanted to _devour_ Poe. Even the best pilot in the resistance squirmed under such scrutiny.
Later, much later, when they're practically the only people left in the joint and Poe is so hard he has what must amount to a petrified tree in his pants, (just from the man's gaze alone, that should have been his first red flag) the Stranger finally speaks. He stands a fluid motion that Poe scrambles to follow and says a single word. "Come." Then the Stranger begins to stride with confidence to the back of the less then reputable establishment.
Was this his home? Did he live here? The Stranger must have at the very least been quite familiar with it because the room he drags Poe into, literally, his hand almost shockingly cold as they rap around Poe's wrist and pull, is a small bedroom of sorts. In that it is occupied by a single cot that Poe hopes is sturdier then it looks. He's pulled in tight against the Stranger breathing him in, his scent is spicy and overwhelming Poe, his tree springs to life suddenly (this would be the second red flag).
The Stranger continues to stare at him pinning Poe in place with his gaze alone while the hand that had once had Poe's wrist in a tight grip took a hold of Poe's chin instead. Forcing Poe to look him in the eye, was it actually possible to have a mental orgasm? Because if that was actually a thing Poe was probably having one at that very second.
"So, are you going to kiss me or kill me?" Poe asked with a breathless laugh.
The answer to that question was neither. The Stranger refuses to kiss Poe but that does not stop his cold cold (why was it so cold?) hand from resting against Poe's throat next, thumb pushing past Poe's lips and into his mouth. The other hand rests against the redwood Poe has trembling in his underwear. The shock of the temperature difference and the pleasure of someone (other than himself) finally _finally_ touching him makes Poe gasp. And the stranger smirks a viscous twist of his (fucking gorgeous) mouth and that's how Poe finds himself here.
In the midst of having possibly the best sex he has ever had. Ever.
He's got his hands resting against the Stranger's chest, rocking his hips hard like his very life depends on it. Sweat rolls down his naked back and he swallows thickly following a sharp intake of breath. The Stranger is still completely clothed and firmly in control despite Poe's position straddling his hips, riding his cock, (and the weight of it alone, the drag of his cock as it slides in and out of Poe, _fuck_ ).
Poe's back moves like a wave rolling and crashing up and back down along with his hips, his breath coming in sharp hisses as he breathes in through clenched teeth, and being released in soft wet 'Ooh's and 'Aah's. His body is shaking, overwhelmed by the sensation of everything from the Stranger's eyes boring into Poe's _fucking_ soul, to his hand gripping Poe's cock tight and unforgiving. Poe whines, a pathetic gurgling noise welling up from the back of his throat unable to actually speak coherently.
The Stranger grunts reaching up with his free hand grabbing at Poe's hair forcing the pilot down against him crowding Poe's vision so that all he can see, smell and taste is the Stranger. The pain bursting beneath his scalp only heightening the pleasure already racking through his body and the Stranger speaks again for a second and final time. "Come." its the same word growled at Poe in much the same manner it was the first time but with a wholly different reaction.
Poe sobs brokenly feeling undeniably overwhelmed and unable to stop his orgasm from punching through his gut as his body tries desperately to follow orders. It's too much all at once and his hips don't stop moving despite the fact, instead his movements become more erratic as he all but bounces on the Stranger's cock. Shaking and trembling and whimpering through his orgasm he isn't aware at first that the Stranger is cumming too, he shouts his completion in a roar that swallows up Poe's own pleasure.
Poe is left feeling dizzy and over stimulated and still at a loss for words as the Stranger tucks his cock away and leaves. Poe doesn't even watch him go doesn't have the presence of mind to handle anything more than the pleasure still thrumming through his body lighting his nerves a blaze.
"Well, fuck." Poe croaks, voice wrecked, to the quiet and empty room. It, much like the stranger, does not say anything back.
**Author's Note:**
> I tumble occasionally @viktorcreed, tho I'm @punkassdameron for the time being. Hit me up; I take prompts. | 2bded4081fee4aefbced961d72167261 | ['d440f3f64b844a20a85cc9a6d036f16c'] | And he blinks. He does not understand why it matters quite so much to her how he feels about her decisions. Especially when she was only doing her duty. He thinks perhaps it's because they are friends and he remembers Poe telling him one night that friends worry about each other, that’s what friends were for.
“Er- well you came back. That’s what really counts.” He says awkwardly and really hopes he did not mess this up. He realizes on some level that this is an important moment and that if he is not very careful this could ruin their friendship. FN-2187 does not have a lot of friends and he cares for this woman so deeply. He really does not want to ruin it.
She smiles finally and he knows he hasn’t.
✿✿✿
Pava, or _Jessika_ as Finn has been instructed (demanded) to call her, has her arms crossed tight over her chest doubled over in peals of laughter. Rey is more conservative chuckling against the back of her hand. And Poe attempts to appear as put upon as possible over whatever it is the two of them are laughing at him for, but Finn notices the way his lips keep trying to smile against his will.
Finn has only just arrived and he’s nervous. He thinks perhaps he is not ready to lead a mission, to lead this team. His team. His friends. But Leia believes in him. And Poe and Rey and Jessica have each said they would follow him without hesitation.
Or rather Poe had clasped a warm hand over his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Aww, buddy, don’t you know I’d follow you anywhere?”
And Rey had rolled her eyes slightly and said “Well obviously you’re right for the job or you wouldn’t have gotten it. Obviously I believe in you,...idiot.”
Jessica had punched him (hard) in the soldier and told him “Get with the program you passed all the requirements with flying colors. You broke records! You’re ready for this!”
Finn thinks that yeah he is ready. Maybe he is still a failure, and a traitor. But he knows he can do this. FN-2187 had led his fire team so he could do this. It wasn’t the same, of course not, these were his friends. They chose to follow him and he would not let them down. He would not betray them. He would not fail.
✿✿✿
_Fin._
**Author's Note:**
> I enjoyed writing this. I switched a lot between Finn's two "identities" tho not in a neurodivergent way. More like a self referential how we identify ourselves in our own head brains. Basically Finn is trying to figure out how to answer the question "Who am I now?" I figured a lifetime of brainwashing can't just be wiped away cause someone finally gave you a real name. Even if that someone is as dashing as Poe Dameron. Lots of switching between FN-2187 and Finn, heavy focus on names in this fic. As well as interpersonal relationships and generally just Finn's journey. Cause he's my child....and I love him. I might do a series. Who knows? I sure don't!
>
> Unbetated, all mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading! |
df40d56020fb465fbc007a25eaea7961 | ['d458d6575aab4dddb40fce18116dcfac'] | “Volleyball first, then we’ll do other stuff.” He started walking a little faster, so Kageyama quickened his pace to keep up. Hinata sped up again and glanced back with an impish grin on his face. Kageyama glared.
“You can’t race me, you idiot, you don’t even know where the gym is.” Kageyama started running anyway. Hinata took off beside him with an excited whoop and stayed on his heels all the way to the gym, despite the bag bouncing on his shoulder.
The pair entered the gym side by side and Kageyama felt a sense of rightness. He picked up a locker key from the front desk and led Hinata to the locker room. He found the correct door and swung it open so Hinata could throw his bag in. The volleyballs were in one of the closets, and Hinata bounced excitedly from foot to foot as Kageyama collected several and led him out of the locker room and onto the courts. Several people were practicing in pairs or on their own, but there were no games going on.
“Let’s warm up.” Kageyama set the spare volleyballs aside and Hinata took a receiving stance across from him. It was a familiar sight. Hinata’s brown eyes were eager and he had perfected his stance over the years, which pleased Kageyama. The setter tossed the ball up in the air and Hinata bumped it back. They passed back and forth, but after a minute a stir of worry made Kageyama catch the ball instead of returning it. Hinata had winced when he received the ball.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” _Again_. During their junior year Hinata had badly sprained his wrist in one of the many tumbles he took playing a match. Kageyama had only found out two days later when he walked in on Hinata icing it in the locker room, biting his lip in discomfort. The setter had to drag the redhead to the nurse and tell Coach Ukai himself to keep Hinata from hurting his wrist further trying to play. Hinata could be dying and Kageyama was willing to bet he would still say he was fine.
“No! I’m fine Kageyama, really.” The setter gave him a look of blatant disbelief. The redhead shook his head and held out a hand for Kageyama to inspect. “Look, it’s just a scratch. There’s a cat near my dorm and he swiped at me.” The setter took Hinata’s small hand and inspected it gently. A thin red line cut across the meaty part of Hinata’s thumb. If it was hit directly it probably hurt, but it wasn’t a serious injury. Kageyama frowned and spoke, taking the opportunity to keep holding Hinata’s hand.
“How did you get scratched by a cat?”
The redhead’s face lit up. “I was trying to pick him up, and he didn’t like that. He’s so cute, Kageyama!! He’s a little grumpy and difficult, kind of like you, but he came and sat next to me when I was eating lunch and he follows me around sometimes. Here, look!” Hinata freed his hand and pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping through the pictures. A short-haired black cat, sleek and thin, looked back at Kageyama. It sat with its tail curled around his feet, chin up regally as it looked at the camera. Hinata smiled fondly at his phone.
“I named him Tob- umm. Tom.” Hinata blushed and looked away, clearly evasive. Was he embarrassed? His shyness was infectious and the taller boy felt his cheeks heat up. He reached out and ruffled Hinata’s hair gently.
“I guess he’s kind of cute. And your hand looks fine.”
“Of course it’s fine, Bakageyama. I told you it was. Now let’s go!! We’re warm enough, we ran here.”
Kageyama rolled his eyes and handed Hinata the volleyball. His feet found their way to the familiar place in his position by the net. Hinata’s eyes gleamed as he threw the ball up and ran at the net. He jumped, Kageyama tossed and the volleyball slammed into the floor on the other side. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
~~~~
They weren’t finished until well past lunch time. Finally Hinata’s stomach growled loudly enough that Kageyama heard it and they looked at each other reluctantly.
“We should probably get food.” Hinata nodded in agreement, pouting as he collected the volleyballs strewn around the court. He trotted back to the locker room, tossing the balls in a bin in the supply closet on the way. Kageyama felt a nervous thrill as he followed the redhead back to the relative quiet of the tiled room. He was most definitely _not_ thinking about what Hinata had said… something about kissing him against the lockers, showering- nope. Not thinking about it. He cast a sideways glance at Hinata as they entered.
“Do you want to shower?” Hinata looked at him and wiggled his eyebrows, face splitting into a sly smile. Kageyama quickly amended his statement with a scowl. “ _Alone_ , Hinata.” The redhead pouted, but didn’t argue when someone else walked into the locker room. Kageyama went to his assigned locker (courtesy of being part of the university’s volleyball team) and pulled out a clean shirt. He grabbed a towel, threw his spare at Hinata and stripped off his shirt as quickly as possible. He was about to head towards the showers in the back when hot hands settled on his stomach. He stilled and glanced around as Hinata sighed from behind him. | 792e42833a4d470d96e3a13d11b20f55 | ['d458d6575aab4dddb40fce18116dcfac'] | “Don’t hurt your brain, Kageyama, I’m sure you had good reasons.” Hinata’s tone was teasing and Kageyama wasn’t even mad.
“Dumbass. Dumbass Hinata.” Kageyama must be getting tired because the insult came out sounding much fonder than Kageyama ever meant it to. He held his breath and listened closely. He had never used that tone with Hinata before and it set his nerves on edge that Hinata didn’t reply immediately. Instead he heard rustling in the receiver, like the redhead was rolling over. At last he spoke in a tentative tone.
“Kageyama?” The dark haired boy felt his tension spike along with his blood pressure. Hinata would probably give him a heart attack and he’d die before he was twenty.
“Yeah?”
“What should I do? About… you know. Like, should I stop dating that girl? Not that we’ve really dated much, but we’ve gone out a few times, and… umm. Should I… because she’s not ‘gwah’?” Kageyama listened to his own rapid heartbeat for several seconds as he considered what to say. This wasn’t just something he could blurt out, he had to approach it carefully. He picked his words with care, something he rarely (never) did.
“I think… if she doesn’t make you happy, you should stop. Or if you think there’s something better for you. Don’t be an idiot and ignore if you’d rather… if she isn’t what you want.” Kageyama clenched his teeth, anxious how Hinata would receive his advice. He felt like a puppet connected to the phone by an invisible string, hanging on the every word of the boy at the other end of the call.
“Hmmmmm… that’s really smart for you, Kageyama.” Hinata’s voice was thoughtful and hesitant. “It’s just, I don’t… I’d rather be with her than be alone, you know? I don’t want to be lonely.”
“So find someone else.” Kageyama’s voice came out a little hoarse and he cleared his throat. Words spoken years ago rang in his ears. _I won’t lose to you. I’ll stand on the same stage as you. With me here…_
“But I… umm. But you’re…” Kageyama’s pulse thudded in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and sucked in a breath.
“Me?” Kageyama was wound so tight he might break to pieces. “I’m what?”
“No!! I didn’t mean, not you, umm, unless you- if you-” Hinata stumbled over his words and gave up with a frustrated whine. “Do you want to??!?” There was a beat of silence as Kageyama had a moment of disbelief before adrenaline crashed through his system. He nodded his head, bangs brushing the pillow.
“Yeah.” His answer was breathed into the receiver like he was afraid Hinata would hear him. The redhead made a strangled screeching noise.
“Really??! You do!? You know what I mean, right Kageyama?? Like, you, and me…?” Kageyama ground his face into his pillow, turning his head enough to mutter out of the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, you absolute dumbass, I know what you mean! Let’s just, you dump your girlfriend tomorrow, and we’ll-” Kageyama choked on the word a little. “date. If you want.” Kageyama heard a loud exclamation and a sudden thud from the receiver, and Hinata’s screeching became much more distant. It sounded like he dropped his phone. Kageyama heard him scramble to pick it up, then the sounds stilled and he could hear Hinata’s breathing again.
“I didn’t know you wanted to!!! God Bakageyama, I mean I knew it looked like you were kind of flirting our last year, but I was pretty sure you didn’t even know what flirting was!!! You should have said something, I missed you so much when I got to this school!” A knot somewhere inside Kageyama unclenched. He unlocked his sore hands from around the sheets he was strangling and sighed deeply.
“You idiot, you didn’t say anything either. And you looked perfectly happy at university, sending me dumb pictures of your girlfriend and your dumb face-“ Kageyama stopped himself. Hinata made an amazed sound.
“Wohhh, Kageyama, were you jealous? That’s kind of cute, you know? I’m sorry, I’m sorryyyy!” Hinata’s voice passed through teasing to end on sincere. Kageyama rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you’re kind of an ass. And I was n- hold on, my phone is low battery.” Kageyama lifted his head and dismissed the notification that his phone was at 5% battery life. He let his head fall back to the pillow with a thump. “I guess we should probably hang up. It’s late.”
“Noooo! Kageyama, stay until your phone dies. If you’re tired you can just go to sleep, I’ll be quiet.” Kageyama frowned at his phone, warmth glowing in his chest.
“What’s the point of that, dumbass?”
“Don’t be rude Bakageyama! I just want to, okay?!” Kageyama felt strangely at peace with the world.
“Okay.” Hinata hummed happily into the phone and rustled around, probably getting comfortable. Kageyama settled on a mental image of him in boxers and a t-shirt and lazily gave the image detail, his eyes heavy. Fluffy hair a mess, shirt riding up and a soft smile on his face. The quiet sound of Hinata breathing relaxed him and he let his eyes close. He listened as the redhead’s breathing evened out, listened until light snoring came from his phone. Kageyama was asleep by the time his phone died. He slept well for the first time in weeks.
2. Plans
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kageyama is confused, Hinata has no filter, and they're both gigantic dorks.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am busy with university so my updates will be terribly slow, but I've decided to keep posting for this story!! I will do my very best not to get distracted with another story or drop this one, I rather like it.
> Enjoy! |
ba40c30b877345f5b7dc9eac8a70a579 | ['d465f97e184e45d7b26543a131c11af7'] |
Know Your Enemy
**Author's Note:**
> i guess i specialize in fics that make people cry but ok
_Do you know the enemy?_
Johnny bolted awake, his heart pounding and veins pulsing. He craved it, now more than ever.
_Do you know your enemy?_
He stumbled out of bed, away from Whatsername’s arms, and to the kitchen counter. It was pitch black, meaning either it was 4am or the end of the world. He really couldn’t tell anymore. The floorboards of the apartment creaked as Johnny staggered to the countertop, where he knew Jimmy’s presents would be waiting. Jimmy always left him presents when he bolted, and he seemed to be awake at any hour to comfort Johnny through the sensation.
_Well, gotta know the enemy, wa-hey._
“Jimmy?” Johnny uttered into the receiver, clutching the phone as if it were his last means of communication. “I need you. I need help. Please.”
Jimmy didn’t stop to sigh or mention something offhandedly, which separated him from Tunny and Will. “I’ll be right over,” a voice responded before the line went dead.
Johnny dropped the phone, ignoring the loud clunk it made as it collided with the counter below. He turned from the set on the wall to the counter, where a small bottle of white pills and a new syringe lay. He recalled Jimmy’s uttering as he left this batch, something along the lines of “You just can’t get enough, can you?” When these presents were first laid out, Jimmy would attach sticky notes to the top, with his signature heart and upside-down cross. Of course, Johnny knew who left them now, and Jimmy had gotten cold enough that he stopped leaving notes.
_The insurgency will rise when the blood’s been sacrificed._
Johnny followed Jimmy down a dangerous path, like something he’d seen in a creepy film. The tightrope of sanity that the two of them walked was thinning, and while Jimmy navigated the dwindling strand of hope without fear, Johnny felt as if he’d fall any minute. With every injection, every high Jimmy put him through the rope would pull thinner. At some point, he’d either fall off or reach the end of the diminishing walk of trust. At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.
_Don’t be blinded by the lies in your eyes._
Jimmy never knocked, as he felt he had no reason to. With one hand grasping a pack of Camels, he strode across the room to where Johnny stood trembling. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his friend do this before – Johnny handled drugs pretty poorly – but the sight of him in such a poor condition always struck a chord for Jimmy. He wasn’t sure which chord exactly, but it was a chord nonetheless.
The warm hand that touched Johnny’s shoulder came as a relief, like a light shining down from the heavens. The patron saint of the denial was here. “J-Jimmy…” Johnny stuttered, holding out the drugs as if asking for a hand. Without saying a word, Jimmy took the items from his friend and led him to a chair. He gritted his teeth, pushing Johnny into the chair and getting down on his knees so he could help him shoot up.
_Silence is the enemy against your urgency, so rally up the demons of your soul._
“You have to learn to do this on your own,” Jimmy muttered, prepping the needle. Johnny agreed – at least he was being treated like a human being today, rather than a plaything. When Jimmy thought of him as a person, his fingers moved along his glass skin, words being whispered into his delicate ears. “I won’t always be around to help you out.”
“But you’re here to help me out now,” Johnny murmured back, wincing as the cold tip of the needle plunged into his veins. “D-don’t ever leave me, Jimmy. I c-couldn’t survive a day without you.”
Jimmy laughed. “You’re drunk as fuck, so wait until that wears off before you ask me for something like that.” He pulled out the needle and kissed the spot where it had been moments before. Johnny opened his mouth to utter something, but Jimmy stopped him by sliding a little white pill into his mouth. Johnny swallowed it. With his work done, Jimmy slammed the half-full bottle on the floor and stood up. “I’m leaving.”
“No-o-o, don’t leave,” Johnny murmured. “Stay here. My highs are always great when you’re here.”
But Jimmy had already left without making a sound. He did this often, and Johnny wondered why he always fell for believing that he could change Jimmy’s mind. Nobody count change Saint Jimmy’s mind.
_Overthrow the effigies, the vast majority, while burning down the foreman of control._
Johnny sat at the table, shaking like any other drug addict would. He could feel the rope beneath him shrinking as his high began to set in. He wished he could stop, he wished he could tell Jimmy ‘no’, that he could finally be free from his best friend’s tantalizing treats of hopelessness. Fed up with hoping and wishing and thinking, Johnny threw his head into his hands and began to recite his old mantra, that he came up with back in Jingletown. “A-and there's nothing wrong with me,” he croaked, gripping the used needle. “This is h-how I'm supposed to be.” Eyes forced shut, arms shaking with the dawning high, Johnny could barely get out the words to his motto from long ago. “In a land of make-believe that don't believe in me.” | a07d44c69a9341dc8509c91774626680 | ['d465f97e184e45d7b26543a131c11af7'] | And Don't Wear It Out
**Author's Note:**
> I posted this on tumblr first after writing it like three months ago but here it is
>
> based on john gallagher jr.'s johnny and tony vincent's st. jimmy because that's the only cast I have a bootleg of
Jimmy was the kinda guy you’d meet at a 7-11 as you were on a midnight run for cigs, because that’s where you two first met. You were obviously drunk, he could tell that, but he offered you a ten anyway when you confessed you forgot your wallet. He took your arm and brought you into the 7-11, and told the clerk you needed a pack of Camels. He paid and you were grateful. He asked in return for a place to stay for a while, and you figured, sure, because you were lonely and bored.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who dealt often, mainly dope and crack. And you said you were broke, and he told you the names of a couple of sources he got his drugs from. Before long, you were a dealer too, and the two of you worked together closely. He was a patron saint, alright. His money went towards cigarettes, tattoos, and hair gel. Some days, he spiked his long, black hair up. Most days, it lay flat.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who’d intertwine his fingers in yours at the dead of night as you danced to music only the two of you could hear. He would laugh with you as you thought about how crazy drunk you both were, and how you hadn’t recognized your urge to smoke in a while because you were thinking about him.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who would drag you into a gas station bathroom and make out with you, the cigarette smoke on his breath staining the interaction. His angel face had lips to match. You fit together like puzzle pieces when you kissed. Not a month had gone by and you were head over heels for him. Maybe you were getting nowhere, but with him, maybe you were getting somewhere.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who sat next to you on lonely nights as you masturbated, his hand wrapped around yours as you jerked off into oblivion. You’re bi, and he was pan, and the two of you felt a connection that couldn’t be explained. You wanted to get fucked by him, oh god, how you wanted to get fucked, but he never obliged. He’d tease the hell out of you, sure, but the two of you never had sex. That frustrated you, but you understood.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who’d keep his distance when Whatsername came along, because you liked her, and he could tell. You liked the both of them, actually, but you kept your relationship with Jimmy a secret when she was around. After all, she knew you were a piece of shit, but she thought you were cute. Or was it the opposite?
Jimmy was the kinda guy who joined you when you shot drugs for the first time. Your first high felt amazing, Jimmy made sure of that. You didn’t do the drugs you sold, obviously, but Jimmy found you the best of the best, and released that craving you had been wanting for months.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who turned quickly from understanding to controlling. Sometimes, you knew your enemy was him, but most of the time, you weren’t sure. You often ended up bent over the bathroom sink, needle in hand, and you needed more. Not just of him, but what he was giving you. You always made up. You were being abused every time this happened, but you assured yourself you weren’t. You thought you were fine.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who had to be real, he had to be, but at the same time, he couldn’t have been. When Whatsername brought you back from your delusions, when she called you Johnny and not Jimmy for the first time, when she left you, you realized what you’d been avoiding all this time. Jimmy wasn’t real. He was a double, an alter ego, who you hid yourself behind. And you dropped the drugs. That part of you was dead.
Jimmy was the kinda guy who’d commit suicide. Standing over the bay, with a heart drawn on his bare torso by knife, he pulled the trigger. And you disappeared, saying a quick confession, and then heading back to Jingletown, USA. You weren’t the Jesus of Suburbia, Whatsername let you know that. You also knew Tunny and Will just wouldn’t understand what you went through, but you headed back regardless, arms open, sitting next to a Greyhound toilet. He was your best friend, your lover, your life for those few short months in the city.
He was great.
But he was dead. |
49174d5f8770409684ec96249a1dd045 | ['d4785e51700b47f1ab72f589e4e043a7'] | Shortly afterwards he can hear rustling and the door flies open to reveal Jackson. He looks exhausted and a bit messy as he steps out of the dimly lid room. Totally beaten but still handsome as ever.
“Mark?!”
The elder just smiles shyly and lifts his hand for a small wave.
“What are you doing here?!”
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
Jackson stares at him in confusion for another moment before grabbing Mark's arm, pulling him into his room, closing the door behind them and involving Mark into a bone-crushing hug. After the initial shock Mark returns the embrace. One of his arms sneaks around Jackson's torso, pressing them together even tighter. His other hand tangles in Jackson's dark hair and he lets his head fall to the side so it rests on Jackson's head which is laying on Mark's shoulder.
“Your mom said you've been rather distant lately... What's wrong, Jackson?”
But Jackson remains quiet, instead he just tightens his hold a little. Deciding that he should give the younger some time, Mark lets the matter rest for now. He pats Jackson's back lightly, holding him tight until he pulls back with a smile.
“Sorry, I should have asked you if you need anything before jumping you. Are you hungry? Or do you want something to drink? You must be tired after the flight. Did you already rest at a hotel?”
“No, I directly came here from the airport, I slept in the plane so I'm fine. But some food would be nice.”
“Off to the kitchen!” Jackson exclaims with his usual bright smile before pulling Mark along by the hand. By now Mark should really be used to Jackson being touchy but he still blushes the slightest bit and chuckles nervously while he is carefully guided down the stairs and into the kitchen.
~
After Mark is finished with eating, Jackson insisted on cooking for him even though Mark kept telling him that he doesn't want to cause him that much work, they go back to Jackson's room. Just when the elder I about to speak up he is interrupted by Jackson taking Mark's face in his hands and looking at him with worry evident in his eyes.
“You seem tired.”
“I'm fi-”
Most perfectly timed yawn ever. Not.
“Liar.” Jackson returns with a grin while leaning their foreheads together. “You can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I won't let my guest sleep on the couch.”
“I won't let my host sleep on the couch.”
“As I see it we have two options now: Either both of us sleep on the floor or we share the bed. What do you choose?”
“Hmm your bed seems about big enough for two people.”
“Three, actually if we try really hard.”
“But it's just the two of us.”
“Yeah...”
_Fucking shit I'm going to sleep in Jackson's single bed together with Jackson._
~
The sun is only beginning to set when Mark comes back into Jackson's room – teeth brushed and only wearing his boxer shorts and a loose shirt. “The bathroom's free now.”
At that Jackson gets up and goes to get ready himself. Mark on the other hand sits down on the bed. It **is** big enough for two people. Though it will be rather cramped. He's still not sure whether that is a good thing or not. On the one hand: watching Jackson sleep, being close to him, maybe even being able to cuddle a bit (if it's Jackson there will definitely cuddling). But as pleasant as all of that sounds there are still Mark's feelings that Jackson doesn't know about. Which means Mark will be left with his heart running at full speed (Because Jackson. Right in front of him.), feeling nervous as fuck (What if he notices?) and guilty (He deserves to know the truth.)
After a while Jackson comes back from the bathroom. In nothing but his underwear.
_God damn I should really be more used to this by now. Why does he always manage to make me so weak? I see him like this all the time and still..._
“Earth to Mark. Someone home?”
“Oh, sorry. I spaced out a bit.”
“You really are tired, huh?” Jackson's expression seems worried, somehow even a bit... guilty? Deciding that he shouldn't dwell on it too much because Jackson is right about him being tired he lays down, making sure to use as little room as possible so Jackson can get into the bed as well. The younger lays down on the mattress as well, taking a look at the space between them before speaking up again. “And this is where the third person would be, Mark. You don't need to make yourself that small. Come here.”
Mark inches forward a bit and is immediately met with Jackson's welcoming arms pulling him against his closer. It feels like heaven and hell all at once. Jackson's embrace is comfortable and secure, like all the problems of the world are locked out by their lightly tangled bodies. When the elder lifts his head up they are directly face to face, if he wanted to Mark could just lean in and kiss Jackson. God, does he want to do that. Press his lips onto Jackson's and just live in that moment for all eternity. But he can't, especially now that Jackson's having a hard time the last thing he needs is to have his best friend's messed up feeling literally shoved into his face. Even though he's been acting more or less like usual since Mark arrived something's still not right with him.
“Good night, Jackson.”
“Night.” Mark's gaze is glued to Jackson's lips, watching them move while the younger speaks.
_So fucking gorgeous... Shit! Don't space out!_ | 22d243a2c37e4b0198baa8da40d79a51 | ['d4785e51700b47f1ab72f589e4e043a7'] | Despite his embarrassment Jungkook decides to include that part. When all the videos he put together make about three minutes he searches for a good song, adds the music and a little text at the beginning stating that Jikook have their own world and that when they (it feels so weird for him to use 'they' in that context) are together they don't care about anyone else. Done. It's actually done. He has his first video. Now everything that's left is... uploading. Jungkook never really thought about that part. Sure, he made a channel on YouTube, he did research and gathered material but somehow the actual uploading part had never really crossed his mind until now. Now that there's no way around it anymore. Jungkook's hand hovers above the mouse. One click. Just one more click and his video will be on YouTube. It will be on the internet for everyone to see. A video about himself and Jimin and their love that they always have to hide as soon as they aren't in private any more.
Despite all the doubt and fear, the thought is strangely thrilling for Jungkook. His heart is racing, pumping blood through his veins at full speed. No holding back, no hiding. As Kookmin World he can finally show the world how much he loves his boyfriend.
Click.
~
By the time Jimin comes home he is completely exhausted and tired, just like Tae who drags himself through the door shortly after him. “You owe me so fucking much for doing this.”
“Does that mean you want to get my gift too?”
“Hell no!” Both of them burst out laughing before Jimin remembers the time and shushes his best friend.
“But seriously, I'll have to repay you somehow. Thanks a lot, Jimin.”
“You're welcome. I'll remind you of that when I need a favor.”
~
Very carefully Jimin sneaks into Jungkook's room. Normally he would just get into his own bed at this point but after a long, stressful day like this he just needs to be with his boyfriend. He want to feel Jungkook's warmth, the strong arms around him, hear his even breathing and steady heartbeat.
After managing to sneak up to the younger's bed Jimin stills for a moment. He should do this more often, just take a moment to appreciate his wonderful boyfriend. Jungkook is so understanding, sure he complains about their packed schedule and that they can't show affection as they please, but in the end he always accepts that these are the circumstances they have to deal with. This is their life. Both of them know it isn't easy and probably never will be but they won't let that stop them. Everything is possible as long as they're together. Suddenly Jungkook stirs a bit, nuzzling his face into his pillow cutely.
_He is so handsome, even when he sleeps..._
With a faint smile Jimin finally crawls into the bed, taking up the space that looks like Jungkook intentionally kept it free for him. He tries his best to be quiet to the point of holding his breath until he is fully situated on the mattress next to the taller one. Jungkook stirs again, throwing an arm over Jimin and pulling him a bit closer. After he stills again the elder dares to slowly release his breath. For a moment he thought he had woken Jungkook up but apparently that's not the case.
“Sleep well, my baby.” Jimin whispers, almost lip-syncs, into the silent room. His boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, Jungkook doesn't move a bit.
_Yup, sound asleep._
Now finally at ease Jimin closes his eyes. Everything is so warm and comfortable and carries Jungkook's scent. Jimin's insider tip for the best sleep in the world.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you read the notes at the end, I already like you. To my suggestions. First of all the most obvious: smut (Jikook, Namjin or V-Hope), or some fluffy cuddling and snuggling (same pairings except any of you can think of someone for Suga?), or maybe they do something as a group? Going out to eat, to the cinema or just spending a day off together? And of course you can make requests on your own too, whatever you want. As long as it fits into the story I will try to include it (so please no alien invasion or zombie apocalypse xD) I'm looking forward to reading your ideas and thoughts on my story, comments are a really good motivation. :)
3. Experiments
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm very sorry it took so long, I hope the chapter at least somehow meets your expectations. By the way it gets a little steamy for a moment ;)
“Not gonna happen.” Even with Jungkook's arms locked around his waist Jimin tries to struggle free. But with the younger holding him back he can't reach the door.
“Kookie! You know I promised Tae to help him!”
“I though you already did?”
“We're not done yet. It's a longer project.”
“I'm a longer project too!”
With a stronger tug he pulls Jimin flush against his body and buries his face in his boyfriend's hair. Jimin's protests are cut off when the door flies open, though he immediately takes his opportunity
“Tae, help me! Kookie won't let me go.”
Taehyung simply starts laughing before waving him off, telling them that he was going to call it off anyways before leaving again.
“See? You can stay here.” After a playfully annoyed sigh Jimin lets himself be turned around. Though he didn't expect to be lifted up and thrown over his boyfriend's shoulder.
“Wah! Kookie, let me down!” Jimin squeals while more or less carefully hitting Jungkook's back. |
3f050b0913354a1bb55bdb7ccb413875 | ['d47bf3608ce24e9eabdbb22cd58b4d9b'] | “I thought you got sucked into that portal I accidentally made a few years ago,” Lars furrowed his brow, “Where’d you come from?”
“I ended up landing in a stupid cornfield, and had to walk two miles to a gas station...no Galaxybucks in sight,” Kevin scoffed, “Anyway that was ages ago. Where have _ you _ been all this time?”
The former captain looked down at the glass in front of him, avoiding eye contact as much as he possibly could. “Nothing much. Just….visiting.”
“Alriiight.” The other boy’s face screwed up in confusion. “Where’s the fat flightless fuck?”
“Don’t call him that! He has a name, ya know,” Lars grumbled, cheeks growing hot in frustration at how willing he still was to defend Ronaldo. “And he’s….not here.”
The gears in Kevin’s head were turning slowly but surely, and finally, he got an idea of what Lars meant. A sharp chortle left his throat. “Oh my god, did he dump you?”
“Ugh, listen!” Angered by the other’s taunts, the pink human whipped around to glare at him. “He didn’t break up with me! I broke up….I mean….h-he….we….” Lars sighed and turned away again, resting his elbow on the table and holding his head up with that arm. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Whoa, wait, you broke up with him?” Kevin sounded confused. “Then why are you all messed up about it? You can do better anyway.”
“Shut the hell up,” Lars grumbled, biting so hard into his lip to stop the flow of tears that he could taste blood. Somehow, even that couldn’t stop a few from sliding out. Kevin noticed, and his mouth gaped open slightly.
The person next to the former captain got up from his spot and walked away, leaving an extra seat next to Lars. Taking advantage of this, the other boy took the empty stool and put a hand on the pink human’s shoulder. He expected to be slapped away, but surprisingly, Lars only jolted a bit in shock and looked ahead of him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
Lars stared at Kevin for several seconds, and glared, “What’s your game here?”
“No game. Obviously, this whole thing has you torn apart, and I’ve got no stake in it, so why not tell me?”
Taking a deep breath in his nose to calm himself, Lars finally spoke, “We had a bad fight, and I left. I need time away, so I can figure out….what we even are anymore. He hasn’t come back down to earth to find me yet or anything, so I guess he’s trying to figure stuff out too.”
“Well, if you ask me, if he’s not chasing after you by now, then forget it. He’s not worth it if he can’t bother coming to find you after this long.”
“I’d agree with that if there wasn’t the fact I...really fucking hurt him,” Lars admitted, “And if I were him I’d be doing whatever he is doing right now, staying away from me.”
Kevin leaned on his elbows, “So what are you going to do in the meantime? Linger and lament? Get drunk off your ass?”
“Already on it,” Lars huffed, gesturing to the bartender for another shot, but Kevin nudged his hand down.
“Hold off on another drink, sweetheart, you don’t need it.”
“Y’don’t know what I need,” Lars slurred grumpily.
“I know you don’t need to get wasted and pathetic this soon,” he rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you make the most of your time without your man, and...I don’t know, move on?? He’s obviously not invested in making up right away, so why linger on it? Make better use of your time. Dance. Smell flowers or whatever poor people shit you do.”
“You think I’m _ poor? _ ”
“Middle class, poor, whatever. Just something other than getting wasted off of Midori and feeling sorry for yourself. Live it up a little! The night is young,” Kevin gripped Lars’ shoulder, giving it a shake, “Why don’t you mingle with the nightlife and let yourself be _ happy? _ ”
Lars took another deep breath and groaned, “Alright, fine. What did you have in mind?”
“Y’like dancing?”
He thought of Ronaldo and their gentle swaying to music on the ship. It wasn’t what Kevin probably had in mind.
“I guess.”
Smirking, Kevin stood up and offered out his hand, “Alrighty then, captain. Dance.”
The ex-captain studied the other boy up and down, clutching his hand back cautiously. He’d dealt with Kevin before, unfortunate as it was. He knew very well what this guy was about. There wasn’t a genuine bone in his body, and this had to be some kind of joke….right?
Then again, Lars had never seen such a look on his face before. This wasn’t the typical smug glare he always had when he was mocking someone. He seemed to be taking this seriously. Did Kevin actually want to dance with someone like him?
Unsure of it was because of the strange sensation flooding through his body by being looked at in such a way or simply because he was very lonely, Lars sucked a deep breath of air through his nostrils and reluctantly took the other’s hand.
“Perfect,” Kevin chuckled in a whisper, pulling him closer.
When he first accepted the offer, Lars had expected to suddenly be slung into a kind of dancing that was too advanced for him. Just about everyone in Beach City had seen Kevin’s hot-shot dancing. It was quite possibly the only not horrible thing the guy was good at. And although he’d done his fair share of dancing with Ronaldo when they were together, Lars wasn’t used to anything like that. | 4fd5633c72844f35a62eec6970fdd0a9 | ['d47bf3608ce24e9eabdbb22cd58b4d9b'] | He looked at Garnet, “And then I keep getting dreams where that happens. Where we’re both next to that pillar, and he’s not back to life. And I just have to... _ leave him there _ ,” he whimpered, “And I have to live the rest of my life without him,” he felt himself tearing up, “And I can’t tell him about that dream, about _ any _ of my dreams. Dreaming about my crew getting shattered, or getting caught in explosions, or reliving through when _ I _ died. I...feel like I have to. My therapist says I don’t have to if I don’t want to, but...maybe I should have just sucked it up, and told him.”
“What do you think would have happened if you did?”
“I...I don’t know,” Lars shook his head, and gave a weak smile, “I’d like to think he’d hold me and tell me everything was gonna be okay, and none of that stuff would happen to us, and that he’d try to make me laugh…”, the smile faded, “But then I just know those dreams will happen again. And again. And then I think he’ll finally realize how hopeless it is for me to move on from that, and...he’ll realize I really am not worth it, if he hasn’t already,” he choked, screwing his eyes shut as he felt the tears come again.
Right before he broke into another heap of sobs, Lars felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and cracked his eyes open to see Garnet looking down at him, her visor moved down to where all three of her eyes were visible and staring into his. “Lars?”
The former captain blinked away some tears. “Y-Yeah?”
“Do you really think Ronaldo feels that way about you?”
A few tears dripped from Lars’ eyes as he thought about what she said. “I….don’t know. He has plenty of reasons to.”
“But do you think he doesn’t care about you?”
“No!” Lars was quick to shoot back. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have….” His words trailed off when the situation hit him at full force. All this had happened because Ronaldo cared about him. If he didn’t, why would he have been so upset at finding out he’d swallowed all those pills? There was no doubt that he loved him.
But somehow, knowing that he’d abandoned the one person who would have stuck it out through anything for him made the feelings of guilt coursing through him worsen. The tears resumed, and he didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Garnet let him cry on her shoulder this time, gently patting his back and doing her best to comfort him.
“Is he, uh….gonna be okay?” Bismuth whispered, getting Garnet’s attention.
The fusion turned to face her friend and smiled as much as she could muster, nodding her head. “Yes.” She then looked back to the former captain. “Lars,” she spoke to him, causing him to glance up at her again, “you can take a break if you need to. It’s obvious that you’re stressed, and being away from the cause of it will do you good.”
Lars wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and took a deep, shaky breath. “O-Okay. Yeah. I’m not going back.”
Bismuth had a look of shock on her face. “But I thought he just-”
“Shhhhh.” Garnet held up a finger to her and lowered her visor again to give the blacksmith a wink. “Give it time.”
Starting to understand what she meant, the other gem nodded and turned her attention back to Lars. “So do you need a place to crash while you’re here? My forge’s always open.”
“Nah,” he sniffled. “I can sleep at home. I just wanted to see you guys before I told my parents what happened.” His heart ached when he thought about how upset they’d be to see him back in such a miserable condition. Lars was tired of worrying them, but he couldn’t shut them out of his life too.
Before Garnet or Bismuth could speak up, the screen door was suddenly kicked open, and Martha rushed in, looking frazzled, “I saw a ship on the beachWHAT HAPPENED.”
Lars stared at his mother in shock, and after only a few seconds of terrified silence between the two, he began bawling and blubbering all over again as he retold her the story.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have him tell the story anymore if he keeps doing this,” Bismuth muttered to Garnet as she watched Martha gasp in horror and cradle her poor baby once he finished telling her everything.
“I swear, I will take that ship, and fly right up into space and knock that man straight on his ass,” Martha began, looking hurt and infuriated to see the state her son was in.
“Mrs. Barriga,” Garnet began, leading her away from Lars as she tried to address the situation, “That isn’t a good idea at this time.”
“Well what am I supposed to do?”, Martha whispered harshly, “My son’s been borderline _ suicidal _ before, am I supposed to just let him sulk???? Ronaldo needs to get his shit together and-”
“Lars knows what he needs to do,” Garnet interrupted her softly, “I know you’re worried, but he’ll be alright. He just needs time to come to terms with things.”
Martha stared at Garnet, still unconvinced. Sighing, she looked over to Lars, seeing him accept Cat Steven out of Bismuth’s arms to cuddle, looking wearier than he’d ever had in ages, and nodded, “Alright. So what can _ I _ do?”
“Be there for your son if he needs you, as you always are,” Garnet winked behind her visor, “And maybe tell your husband the story so Lars doesn’t have to. I sense if he keeps breaking down today, he might get hiccups.” |
331af4d225f54ae49785c5af49a578bc | ['d482aeba470f432aa502187d14ed77e2'] |
Gingers Get All the Fun
**Author's Note:**
> Jamie and Tyler finally get to admit a few things to the Stars Management and Toronto gets to play. Thank you to SweetJulieFace for making some "artful" additions.
>
> The next few parts are going to run in a plot sequential order, so could be read alone, but will make more sense if you read the last 6 parts.
>
> As always an image if usually helpful for those not familiar with either team so:
>
> Freddie and Auston:
>
> Auston and Mitch (PS That beard on Auston is hot!)
>
> Jamie and Tyler (Yes it's been used already, but _who's a good boy_ )
>
> As always this is a work of fiction, just like beginning to think Max Domi turn over a new leaf in Montreal... completely made up!
Coming home from long roadies always feels good. Even better when the hunt happens on their home turf.
Jamie and Tyler come home to a note from their house sitter about how the dogs did while they were gone and a few parcels sitting on the counter. Confused, they open their packages. Tyler looks in the first box and pulls out a plastic Zamboni as Jamie pulls out a “D-Boss” Larkin bobblehead.
“Larkin… oh, look there’s a card.” Tyler smiles.
_ “Thanks for helping me christen LCA. When Bash found out it was me, I ended up just having to clean the Zamboni with him watching and vow never to touch it again. Thought I’d give you a little gift to remember the evening. -D-Boss” _
“Very sweet of him.” Tyler giggles and takes them both to put on a shelf in the living room.
The other package has a Boston return address. Tyler rips off the tape and laughs at what he finds inside.
“What is it pup?” Jamie questions.
“It’s a Boston cream pie,” Tyler replies still giggling and dumbfounded as he reads through the note.
_ “Thanks for the bluest balls I’ve had in a long time. Scarred Marchy when he found me naked, the least you could’ve done was untie me. Anyhow, there is some of my personal ‘secret sauce’ on the pie as a result. -Quaider” _
“Secret sauce?” Tyler inspects the cake closer and there is a faint white crusty substance on the chocolate ganache. It’s Quaider’s “sauce” from the blue balling. The two shake their heads and grin while promptly tossing it into the trash, knowing it wouldn't be salvageable.
Since they haven’t been at home since the bye week for longer than 24-hours and on a business day, they have a meeting with the Stars management that cannot wait any longer.
They meet up on Monday morning in a stuffy conference room at the practice facility with Hitch and Nill staring them down. The feeling of having their necklaces on is causing Jamie to keep scrubbing his neck. “Stop fidgeting with it Jameson, I don’t want the early teammates to notice,” Tyler mumbles into Jamie’s ear as they walk in the room.
“I can’t stop fidgeting with it. It feels weird.” Jamie mumbles back.
Pleasantries are exchanged then Jim begins, “I hear you two had a busy bye week. I assume that since PR wasn’t invited to this meeting, that it has nothing to do with Tyler’s appearance on TMZ.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Jamie starts his reply. “Tyler and I did something else that you two need to be aware of. We are going to keep this secret from the rest of the team until after the playoffs.”
“We already know you are getting married in June, and there is nothing to apologize for that. My wife and I got the invite and plan on being there.” Hitch notes.
“Well, that’s the deal,” Tyler smirks. “That ceremony is going to be well…”
“ _ Ceremonial _ ,” Jamie completes the sentence.
“What the…” Jim and Ken say in unison. “You two are already married?” Jim finishes.
Jamie and Tyler whip out their matching necklaces to show their bosses. “Did it in Winnipeg during the bye week,” Tyler says with his trademark smile.
“Does any of the team know?” Jim inquires.
“Radulov, Roussel, and Spezza all know, the rest of the team will be in the dark until June,” Jamie replies.
“Hitch, there is one other little thing, those necklaces you just saw are going to be codenamed ‘Valentine’s Day presents’ and we’ll start wearing them after February 14th, okay? They have our wedding rings in them, we’ll keep them under our jerseys.” Tyler adds.
“Can I see one of the rings, coach’s privilege?” Hitch asks.
Tyler takes out Jamie’s ring from his necklace and Hitch examines it with a keen eye. “Emeralds and diamonds, nice touch. You guys design these yourselves?” Ken asks. “I like the lockets too, that must’ve been Tyler’s touch.”
Jamie and Tyler nod as Hitch hands Tyler back the ring to keep it in its home.
“So I guess some of your paperwork needs to change.” Jim comments. “The Director of Player Personnel will be in here in a minute, so you can take care of that. Congratulations guys, I still look forward to your backyard ceremony. I have one last request.” He turns toward Tyler.
“Tyler, as you know ‘Hockey for Everyone Month’ is coming up. Would you do the honors of being our team’s representative for this event?”
Jamie struggles with the sip of coffee he’s trying to ingest when Tyler smiles at the offer.
“It would be my honor, I’ll serve with pride,” Tyler says with sincerity.
“Alright gentlemen, thank you for being open and honest with us. See you on the ice in a bit after you finish your paperwork.” Ken dismisses himself and Nill. After Ken and Jim leave the room, Tyler and Jamie remove their necklaces and slide them deep into Tyler’s practice bag.
\----- | 9f7adb0fc29c49288ca30d2baabb3bac | ['d482aeba470f432aa502187d14ed77e2'] |
Chilled Duck
**Author's Note:**
> Welcome back to the Great Bennguin Hunt. Tonight's prey is from Anaheim, team 30 of 31. In case you are keeping track, only Ottawa is left. When Pensy and I first conceived the series this was another team we struggled for prey. Let's just say most teams are lacking in the "stud department" while others we had arguments over who to hunt, cause Wild Bill almost made the cut in Vegas. Don't get me started on Colorado and Columbus (though Columbus was obvious af, but PLD and Anderson are DAMN!)
>
> This one picks up exactly where Pittsburgh ended, literally. So if you need a refresher, read the last few paragraphs of that before this.
>
> We do include pictures for your reference
>
> Andrew:
>
>
> Bennguin (Tyler/Jame with a Radulov cameo)
>
Jamie pulls up the PuckDaddy website where the headline reads, “Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn to Wed This Summer.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!” Tyler swears loudly.
Rous knocks softly on the door, “You decent?” He asks.
“Yeah, come in,” Jamie replies throwing the comforter over their nearly naked bodies. Rous jumps onto the bed in between Tyler and Jamie displacing Marshall, Cash, and Gerry in the process.
“Klinger, Raddy, and Spezz all just called me. What’s going on? Thought this was a secret?”
Jamie shows Rous his cell phone screen, and a horrified look possesses the Frenchman’s face. “How?” Rous asks finding the rest of his words difficult to express in English.
“They stole McDavid’s mail containing his invitation.” Tyler says gravely.
“Jim and PR are on their way here, guess we best get dressed. Can you get breakfast going? This is going to need some strong coffee,” Jamie deadpans.
“Yeah Seggy and Benny, am here for whatever you two need,” Rous pulls Tyler and Jamie into a group hug, gets off the bed, and wanders out of the room with the dogs in tow to be let out for their morning constitutional.
Jamie and Tyler shower together in silence and saunter downstairs in a dejected mood. Rous is at the stove making a pile of crepes with 6 steins filled with coffee sitting on the breakfast bar and the coffeemaker hard at work on the next pot.
The doorbell issues its customized bark, Jamie answers and standing in front of him are their GM, PR, Hitch, and a guy that Jamie vaguely remembers as the team’s legal counsel. “Rous, we’re gonna need another stein of coffee,” Jamie orders out to the kitchen.
“Got it stallion,” Tyler replies.
“Thanks Rous,” Jamie smirks.
“God, you two act just like an old married couple even though that’s what you already are,” Hitch smirks. “And what the hell is Roussel doing here?” Hitch asks after his brain caught up to what Jamie said.
“Long story coach, that’s a talk for another day,” Jamie says dryly, he just wants to get this over with. “Anyone up for breakfast? Rous makes some killer crepes,” He asks.
“Thanks Jamie,” Jim answers and Jamie ushers their guests into the dining table next to the kitchen.
The PR guy pulls out his tablet and reads:
“Dallas Stars captain and forward Jamie Benn has found the one and it’s his teammate Tyler Seguin. We can exclusively reveal that the two will wed in a private ceremony on June 21 at their residence in suburban Dallas,” He says then looks up after reading the short blurb.
“Ok guys, how did they find out?” The lawyer asks.
“They stole Connor McDavid’s invitation from his mail,” Tyler answers sincerely.
“So this information is obtained from an illegal act in another country?” The lawyer deepens his inquiry.
“Yeah,” Jamie answers sheepishly.
The PR guy pipes in, “So how do you want to respond to your ‘outing’? I’m leaving this up to you given our market.”
“I plan on using pride tape the whole game on ‘Hockey Is For Everyone’ night,” Tyler smirks.
“That’s the flamboyant Tyler I know,” Rous chimes in.
“So, say nothing?” Jamie questions.
“It’ll be like Summer over the bye week, it’ll blow over,” Tyler shrugs.
“And if it doesn’t?” Jim asks.
“Then we issue a statement,” Jamie says.
“Include Nik and I in it,” Rous interrupts.
Jim and Hitch look over at Antoine with eyebrows raised.
“What?” Rous says indignantly.
“I think Rous just passed on the news that he’s dating a guy too,” Tyler cheeses.
“Jim, I’m getting too old for this shit! I think I’m retiring this year,” Hitch comments. Jim takes it as a joke for now.
The PR guy and lawyer are whispering back and forth. Jamie looking on trying to figure out what the conversation is really discussing. The PR guy is typing furiously on his tablet during the whole conversation. When both look down at the device, they nod and look back at Jamie and Tyler.
He reads off the quick notes he jotted down with the lawyer, “How about this?
-Reports of a wedding between Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn of the Dallas Stars were obtained using illegal means and the Edmonton Police Agency and Canada Post are investigating this incident. The Dallas Stars normally do not comment on the off-ice lives of our players, but Benn and Seguin have issued the following statement.
“Tyler and I have been engaged since the last off-season with plans to marry this off-season,” Stars captain Jamie Benn states.
Tyler Seguin has mentioned he will be using Pride Tape during the entire game on Hockey is for Everyone night serving as the Stars’ own You Can Play ambassador.
“I look forward to showing that hockey is truly for anyone who wants to play the sport,” Seguin notes.
Tyler and Jamie ask for respect and privacy as they celebrate the happiest day of their lives,” PR looks up at the two who are nodding and looking quite positive at the words they’ve heard. |
529966c4059c4e098a64d39bdbe3bcb2 | ['d483e3a7085c41fdbad03633a8f1e00d'] | He just stares at Adam, eyes glistening with unshed tears until Adam cannot take it any longer and pulls Tommy into his arms. He holds him close and ignores the biting smell of sex that fills his nose. He could at least have showered, couldn’t he?
Adam doesn’t know how much time they spend this way. Only when the slim body in his arms starts shaking with tears does he pull away. Not all the way, just enough to be able to look into Tommy’s eyes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, but Tommy doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and tries to hide his head in Adam’s shirt again. Adam is having none of that, though. He grabs Tommy’s face with both hands and forces him to look him in the eye. “Tell me” he no more than whispers.
Tommy only starts trembling more violently, even though Adam tries to calm him down with words and a soothing hand at the back of his neck, it doesn’t seem to help. When Tommy’s knees give out under him all Adam can do is catch his fall and guide them both down to the floor smoothly. This time, he lets Tommy cry against his chest all he wants. Tommy is mumbling words Adam cannot quite make out. Something that sounds a lot like I’m sorry and please forgive me, so stupid. Gently, Adam strokes Tommy’s hair, all the while wondering what could have possible happened to get Tommy to be this upset. He has never seen the smaller man like this.
It takes a while for Tommy to quiet down. They don’t get up right away, but sit together in silence instead. With Tommy still wrapped up in Adam’s arms. Eventually, Adam makes them get up to avoid getting some not so funny kinks in his upper back and shoulders.
Tommy still doesn’t talk, but he looks a tiny bit relieved. Adam smiles and pulls some shorts and a shirt out of his suitcase. He hands them to Tommy and pushes him into the shower. Tommy hesitates for only a few seconds before taking the clothes and heading to the bathroom, but it is enough to make Adam feel uneasy. This won’t be the first time Tommy spends the night in Adam’s bed. Far from it. Adam is masochistic like that.
He shrugs and gets under the covers. The clock on his nightstand shows 3:50. Adam groans. He has got an early wake-up call and he is so tired, despite the little sleep he got earlier. Thankfully, Tommy is not taking too long to get out of the shower and soon joins Adam in bed.
Adam pulls the smaller body against his own and buries his nose in the still damp, blond hair. It smells like this favorite shampoo, but with a hint of just Tommy underneath. It is almost too much and not enough at the same time. Still, he needs sleep so he closes his eyes and tries to at least get a little bit of it. He is more or less asleep when he hears Tommy’s soft voice against his ear: I love you.
Time stands still. Adam’s throat gets dry and he is pretty sure his heart stopped beating. He must have dreamed that. Yes, definitely, he is already sleeping and dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The thing is, this doesn’t feel like a dream at all. And he is pretty sure Tommy’s body is shaking again, only a little bit, but enough for Adam to notice. He pulls away a few inches and looks in Tommy’s brown eyes. They are filled with fear. More than Adam has ever seen in them. But if he looks close enough he can also see a tiny fraction of hope.
Could this be true? Could he really be awake?
He wants to speak. Say something. Anything. But he has lost the ability to form words. Also, he is pretty sure his body forgot how to breathe. So they just stare at each other, waiting for a reaction.
It takes not more than a few moments before Tommy tries to bail. He pushes Adam’s body away like it is poison and struggles with the covers until he is almost free. One of his legs gets tangled up in them, though and he falls to the floor. Any other time Adam would be laughing his ass off, but not right now. Instead, he is getting out of bed himself and pins a still struggling Tommy to the ground. It is only then that he realizes the other man is crying again. It all clicks into place then.
This isn’t a dream. Tommy is real. What he said is real.
Carefully, he pushes Tommy’s hair out of the way, before leaning down and whispering: “I love you, too.” Tommy’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t have time to say anything in return before Adam’s lips cover his. Claiming him.
Later, when Tommy is once again safely wrapped up in his arms, fast asleep and with a small smile on his lips, Adam is crying again. Only this time he doesn’t mind at all.
The end | e10ebbc5315f46f2a6841d3212fc94b5 | ['d483e3a7085c41fdbad03633a8f1e00d'] |
I'll follow you into the dark
**Author's Note:**
> This is the first time I've ever written something in English. Let's see how that went.
>
> Beta: bloodylee and Leylamannion. Thank you guys. You were awesome. and Shinigamisephi for helping me with all the medical crap XD
He never saw the other car coming. It was a dark night already but was made worse when the wind blew down a power line, and the streetlights went out.
The oncoming car was driving twenty miles over the speed limit without headlights. Later at the hospital, doctors reported the blood alcohol level of the driver to be at 0.090% and above the legal limit to the police. This fact was inconsequential compared to the damage both vehicles incurred.
The sedan turned on its side and slid for six yards while the Toyota Tundra rolled three times, and its roof collapsed in on itself. It caught fire within seconds.
The intoxicated driver of the sedan suffered a serious hematoma to the base of his skull and died within minutes of the emergency vehicles’ arrival. Meanwhile the driver of the SUV was pinned inside the overturned, burning car until a fire unit extinguished the flames. He remained unconscious until he arrived at the hospital where he was rushed into surgery.
The doctors spent over three hours in surgery while the police desperately tried to reach his relatives without success. Neither his wife nor his parents answered their phones.
It wasn’t until two more hours had passed that they finally contacted the patient’s roommate. He arrived twenty-five minutes later, panting and shivering. A nurse led the tall man to the recovery room but did not allow him immediate access to his friend.
“A doctor will talk to you in a few minutes. He’ll explain to you the condition your friend is currently in,” she promised.
“Can I see him now?” His voice felt strange and his eyes burned with tears.
The short nurse in scrubs urged,
“Please, wait until the doctor talks to you.”
Several minutes passed, though they felt more like hours to him. He tried to sit down, stood up again and paced up and down the floor. He then managed to sit down again until the doctor finally showed up.
He was wearing green scrubs but still wore a white surgical mask around his neck and a cap on his head. “You must be Jared Padalecki.”
Jared jumped to his feet and nodded. “How’s he doing?”
“He is suffering from third degree burns to his chest and stomach. He lost a lot of fluid and blood when that happened, and he went into shock. He‘s doing better on IV fluids now, but his internal injuries are what really worries us. His right kidney was severally bruised. It was too damaged, and we had to remove it. The smoke inhalation damaged about forty percent of his lung tissue. This has put him at a serious risk of infection and fluid in the lungs.“
Jared had problems with grasping what the doctor had just said. His face went pale and his breath caught somewhere in his throat.
“He… He’s going to be fine, right?”
The doctor cleared his throat before continuing. “Mr. Padalecki, I’m sorry, but the injuries, especially those done to his lungs, are irreparable. All we can do now is to make it as comfortable as possible for your friend, so he won’t have to suffer.”
“No, that… that can’t be…” Jared shook his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be true. Jensen couldn’t… “You’ve made a mistake…”
“I’m very sorry. He’s going to need your support. He’s responding, but the morphine has made him groggy. If you need help or have any questions, just call for the nurse.”
Jared could barely comprehend what the doctor was talking about. The only words left in his head were Jensen and dead. It couldn’t be true. Jensen couldn’t leave him.
Gently, he pushed open the door to the patient’s room. Only one of the three beds was taken. Normally those beds would have seemed way too small, even for Jensen, but at that moment, Jensen looked so tiny and fragile in that hospital bed. Jared felt like breaking down right there and then. Jensen’s head was facing the dark window, so Jared couldn’t tell, if he was awake or not.
He took a step toward him and paused. For a moment he just stood there, not sure what to do next. He wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t trust his voice to follow through with his thoughts, so he simply took Jensen’s hand in his instead. It was cold, a lot colder than usual.
“You’re here.” His voice sounded rough and hoarse. Jared had problems understanding him properly.
Jensen’s chest was covered in tubes, bandages, and cords underneath a thin gown.
“Of course.” Jared gave the hand in his a little squeeze.
A few minutes passed before Jensen turned around. The sight made Jared’s breath hitch. Jensen’s face was so swollen that his right eye could barely be seen. He was also covered in cuts and bruises, and his left arm was bandaged.
“That bad, huh?” Jensen’s lips curled up into a smile, but it looked off in his situation.
“I’ve seen you worse.” Jared returned the smile and let his fingers slide over Jensen’s palm.
“You’ve always been a bad liar,” Jensen rasped. All of a sudden his whole body was shaken by a heavy, unnatural coughing. Jared waited until Jensen calmed down again and handed him a glass of water.
“Better?”
“You should go, Jared.” Jared shook his head and smiled.
“You really think I’d leave you alone? Now? When you need me the most? Forget it, Jensen. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jensen wanted to object. Really. Jared shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t see any of this. But he couldn’t find the strength to send him away. |
ad02f6339bf8448dacfb9198e70cda2b | ['d4895d9942ab495c8860a8cce2c870a3'] | 3. Cuz the hardest part of this is losing you
At some point after his conversation with Thomas, Virgil ended up falling asleep on the couch. Thomas took the liberty of gently pulling Virgil’s hoodie off, breath catching when he noticed the brightly colored soul marks. It was impossible that Virgil had just developed them within the last few hours, and it was unheard of for them to develop after 6 or 7 years old. Why would Virgil put himself through that kind of torment if he truly had a soulmate? It didn’t add up, but he wouldn’t push. Virgil had his hurt, and as long as he told his therapist, he wouldn’t push. It would be the battle Thomas fought once Virgil came to him about it.
<><><>
_It was Virgil’s 6 th birthday, and he was ecstatic. He’d just gotten home from school, where they had learned about soulmates. They talked about how they could be girls, which Virgil’s best friend Sam said was awsome. Virgil thought it was icky. He’d told his mom as much on the car ride home. She’d just laughed and continued to drive. They made there way inside, and Virgil’s dad was standing at the table, with a large purple cake in front of him._
_“Surprise kiddo!!”_
_He giggled happily, and made himself comfy in his seat_
_“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Happy birthday, Happy birthday to you!”_
_Virgil blew out the candles, whishing to meet his soulmate soon._
_The rest of the night was a blur. There was presents, and ballons and candy. Then there was shouting. Lots of shouting. Then screams. Loud, scary screams. He curled up in his closet. His mom would come get him. She always did. Then a bang. And crying. Then another bang. Virgil stayed in his closet. There was more shouting what felt like days later, but it was not his parents. A man in blue pulled the closet door open, and helped Virgil out. He wasn’t supposed to go. Mom was gonna come get him. Mom needed to come get him. Mom…Mom was on the floor? The men in blue had set a blanket over her body._
_“187 and 271 at P. Sherman. Looks to be about 6-ish? Was hidden in his closet, and clearly reluctant to leave. Get child services out here?”_
Virgil shot up, breathing panicked, and in a cold sweat. He immeadtly tugged his hoodie back on. Had he taken it off? When? He flinced at the sight of a bright red hear, a blue smiley, and a navy frowny face. He hated the accidental glances, but today, they brought him some sort of sad comfort. Comfort that shrouded him in heavy, anxious guilt. He wasn’t supposed to look. He’d never forgive himself if he looked for his own comfort, but I digress. The guilt outweighed the comfort the marks brought him, so he covered them quickly, praying Thomas hadn’t seen them.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Im sosososososo sorry about how short this is? But writing and editing took me literally 5 hours and I had to human and shit.
>
> If your feeling talkative, feel free to leave me a comment (I friggin love comments boos.) Or, if your shy, leave me a kudo! Or dont! Its your call. Thank you for reading Chapter 3 of Shadows, and How We Escape Them
4. Sick of losing soulmates
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sup! Heres a long chapter to make up for the last short one
Virgil was still mad at himself for his slip. His mother was probably rolling in her grave. But….they seemed so sweet. Like the kind of people he could spend time with. One more peak wouldn’t hurt anyone…right? He pulled up his sleve to see his whole arm covered in chatter. Maybe he could….yeah. Just this once. He scooped up a purple pen.
_‘uh…hi?’_ He wrote. It was only a matter of seconds before red pen appeared across his skin.
_‘Pat dear, Is Patty in your pens again?’_
Then a pale blue _‘Nope! Patty’s with the smalls. Maybe Lo or his brother?”_
And a deeper blue. _‘Negative. Neither of us write in lowercase block.’_
Virgil cringed. He was so out of place. They all knew each other, and each others siblings and he knew nothing….and it was his choice. He had to apologize and get out as fast as possible.
_‘i didn’t mean to be a bother, im sorry. I didn’t think anyone would notice. Imma go…’_ He scrawled quickly, before chucking the pen across the room. He wasn’t quick enough with the pulling of his sleve to miss the new text. He paused.
_‘Wait….If this isn’t one of us then…’_ Reds loopy handwriting came into view.
_‘A fourth? But…wouldn’t we have met them sooner?!’_ Pale blues confusion was almost tangible
_‘Maybe a fluke? A plausible mistake, yes? We are far to old to be developing another soulmate.’_
Virgil cringed. Yeah. He was a fluke. A fluke who really needed to talk to his Da-no. Thomas. Not his dad. Just a foster parent. One of the many. But still. He needed to tell someone before his skin boiled off and he curled up and died.
<><><>
Thomas was never very hard to find. He was normally in his office. He knocked softly.
“C’mon in!” His voice was bright and cheery, as always
He made his way into the room, and plopped on the chair across from him. “Can….Can I ramble?”
“Always sweetpea.” | b8767f6056874503848cbfb133d3a275 | ['d4895d9942ab495c8860a8cce2c870a3'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> So! Hi, Im your author for this hell ride! Its my first ever fanfiction, so please be gentle....I be is much soft..... As of 3/14/19 I am looking for a beta, so hit me up here if you wanna take on this (most likely) bad story! Also. A03 is a god at predicting tags and I am so loving it....also, imma noob who cant human, why is this claiming my work is complete? l I e s
> _Lotor_ __had always assured Keith that he would be safe in his arms. That he wouldn't be hurt by any other alpha....but he didn't hold himself to that standard. He had barely missed_ curfew. It was just a few minutes, maybe 10...15 max. But that, apparently, was enough to call for punishment from his alpha. After the sixth or seventh hit of the whip, Keith was sobbing. After the tenth, he was damn near fainting, spots dancing across his vision as he begged Lotor to stop. It all hurt...so....much.... _
Keith woke in a cold sweat. Fucking hell! Out of all the nightmares he could've had, it needed to be that one? It had been months since he left Lotor. He couldn't afford any more hospital bills. Across the room, something made a loud thunk.
"Dude, I know your here. Such a fucking disgrace to cat kind, fallin' all over shit."
A barely their smile tugged at the edge of his lips as he picked up his phone. 3:51. Great time to be awake. Totally. Keith heard another thunk, then a crash. Damn cat! Those where new! He pulled himself out of bed, and Nepeta off the shelf she was sitting on.
"Fuckin' hell....how did you even get in here? The door's shut you tiny ass!" He gently scratched behind her ears, and she purred in response.
"Is it food time? Is that why you broke in?" He hummed before setting the cat down, and making his way to the bathroom, filling her food bowl.
"There you go. No more breaking shit. Eat." He grabbed his bag from near the bathroom door and started to put all of his camera shit in it. To his great relief, none of his new equipment had been broke. Bless whatever shit eating angle was watching out for him today. He finished packing up his camera and grabbed a banana….or the remains of what once was a banana. It was now a gross, black mush. Fuckin' gross. He dropped it in the trash before hearing his phone ring. He answered the call.
"Hello? Keith speaking."
_"Hey keithy…. I noticed you changed numbers. So sad. Is this your attempt at hiding from me?"_
"First of all, I'm not hiding from anyone. Second, your my boss. Its 4am. What the hell do you want?" He grumbled, clearly pissed at the call.
_ "Well, I was calling to tell you I found you a high paying run, but after all the trouble of finding your new number, and your attitude I assume you don't need-" _
"I do. I do need the money. I'm sorry sir. I should have more respect."
_"Damn right you should. You omega whores need to learn your place, respect your higher ups. I'll text you the details later."_
"Yes sir. Thank you sir." He fucking hated groveling at this mans feet, but he had rent to pay, and a cat to feed, so he did.
Eventually, he finished putting his equipment away, and fixed the shelf Nepteta had decided to perch on. By then, it was about eight in the morning. Steller timing.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Keith runs into an alpha, and he is very highly unpleased
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> h o l y fuck guys why, in 3 hours, has this gotten almost 200 hits? Im crying. My cold dead heart is physically crying. I love you all and like....I cant emote rn so imma write...
He made his way out the door and up the hall with no issues. So where on gods green _motherfucking_ earth did this boy just come from, and how the hell did he just run Keith over? He wasn't weak by any means, mostly likely stronger then all of his omega classmates, and some of his alpha classmates too. But he was small enough to miss if you tried. And apparently, this alpha had tried (and succeeded). He landed on the ground with an ungraceful thunk.
"What the hell fuckass!" He shouted.
"Sorry! I forgot my bag in my dorm! Gotta run!"
"Like hell you "gotta run"! Slow the fuck down!"
"Fine Mullet, I'll slow down." The alpha paused in the hall with a sigh, before extending a hand. Keith growled and ignored it, getting up on his own.
"I can manage just fine asshole. And its not a...a mullet."
"Names not asshole, its Lance. Lance Mcclain. And it is, undoubtedly, a mullet."
Mcclain....Mcclain....so this was the 2nd place asshole? The 2nd place asshole? Holy shitballs. "Keith Kogane."
Lance looked shocked. "You beat my scores? But.....your so....scrawny? And....small?" The boy gawked at Keith like he had just walked off a motherfucking spaceship, covered in purple fur. He bit down a smirk. He had approximately 0 minutes and 0 seconds to deal with Lances shit right now. He picked up his bag, and his phone pinged. Probably Boss. He could handle that once he sat down.
"That was me. And I dont have time to be gawked at right about now, so fucking scram." He hissed, tugged his bag over his shoulder, and shoved his way into the classroom. It took him about thirty seconds to realize he was holding his breath. Honestly, he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Lance would be the last person to figure out his secret. He was _fine_. He took a few deep breaths before pulling out his phone. |
b5d2f7176e0342968b385a6f64944701 | ['d49958f6476b4a7aa482ac29c5820a55'] | What a fucking softie, he was making Dawn coffee. Misty held back a giggle and settled for a grin.
"Were you two working last night?" Misty asked casually.
Paul hummed in confirmation.
"You know, you should talk more cause I have no idea what the fuck you are or what the fuck you want. It's kind of unnerving actually."
Paul turned around leaning against the counter, he stared at her with his two black eyes and… wait why the hell did he have two black eyes.
"Sweet father Christmas!" Misty gasped, "Maybe you two need to calm down and be a little more gentle in bed. Dawn better not look anything like you do or I'll have to beat you up."
"It's not from… that." He said uncomfortably.
A full sentence. Misty was getting through to him. Definitely. On the road to being best friends basically.
"Well I hope this is one of those, 'you should see the other guy' situations, otherwise you really are pathetic. I'd feel sorry for you."
"I won," He said simply.
Misty grinned, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
"How'd it happen?"
"…Bar fight… of sorts."
That was vague.
"Ah, I've had my fair share. So fucking fun," Misty sighed, reminiscing back to a few moments when she put some idiots in their place, drunk of course. Her fit physique meant she could throw around wasted, stiletto-clad twigs pretty easily. The added strength that alcohol gave her allowed her to beat up full grown men as well.
Maybe this was why she never made friends at parties.
Naw. People were just assholes.
Just as she was contemplating this the door opened to reveal a quite disheveled and tired Iris.
"Working late?" Misty asked.
"What the fuck Mist, put a shirt on!" Iris groaned in annoyance as she covered her face.
She looked down and sure enough she had forgotten she had removed her bra not ten minutes ago.
"Aw shit, that's awkward," Misty sighed, "Props to you Paul, you didn't look down once. Still, you could have said something."
He hummed in reply, not really paying attention.
Iris made her way to her room, keeping her face suspiciously turned from Misty as if she didn't want it seen.
That only made Misty want to see her face even more. Bad move Iris.
She waited for her opportunity and then mustered up whatever energy she had left and sprinted towards Iris, snatching her shoulders and turning her around.
"Holy Mother Mary," Misty breathed, "How did that happen?"
Iris had a huge bruise on her left cheek, it was actually disgusting, purple and yellow, puffy and all around not cute.
"Uh…" Iris said stupidly, looking everywhere but in Misty's eyes.
"Spill before I wake up fucking Serena."
Iris's brown eyes widened. Serena and her natural ability to worry and generally mother everyone was obviously not something Iris wanted right now. Misty was pretty proud of herself for coming up with such a dangerous threat.
"Fine! Get your boobs covered and I'll talk."
Misty threw a sweatshirt on and glared as intimidatingly as she could, in her peripheral vision she saw Paul attempting to re-enter Dawn's bedroom.
"Ah, ah, ah, Purple," Misty warned, "We've got to talk too."
Paul rolled his eyes but stopped.
"What is going on, Iris you were supposed to be at a diner and you come back looking like… seriously this is so weird it can't be coincidence."
Iris pursed her lips and looked down,
"It was an accident at work and—"
"She was at the same bar as me and got caught in the fight. It's not a big deal." Paul interjected.
Misty narrowed her eyes,
"I'm not buying it one bit but if you promise to shut up and stay quiet for the next four hours so I can get some damn sleep I'll drop it for now."
"Deal." The both said, so quickly it was obvious they had been lying earlier.
But Misty was too tired to argue right now, so they were off the hook.
For now.
* * *
It was already part way through August and she'd been living with this bunch of crazies for… oh Lord almost a month now. How any of them had survived was a mystery on par with Jack the Ripper. Maybe even more.
If Misty was being honest she really didn't know them all that well, sure she'd picked up on weird quirks each of them had. Like how Dawn was really OCD about the organization of coffee in the kitchen, or how May never wore matching socks and sometimes only wore one, or how Iris seemed to be able to sleep anywhere (seriously Misty found her sleeping in the dryer once), or how Serena sometimes unintentionally switched between English and French when she spoke.
Other than that, she was still at a loss about most of them. None of them talked about their families or theirs pasts, neither did Misty if she was being honest, so she couldn't exactly fault them for that. That didn't stop her from being curious and just generally a very nosy person.
As she pondered this her phone began buzzing in her pocket, checking the caller ID she saw that it was Ash.
They'd kept in touch since they'd met, he was a weirdo and she was too so they got on… y'know when they weren't at each other's throats.
"Fred's Crematorium, you ghost 'em, we'll roast 'em," She answered in as professional a voice she could force.
"Is that a threat?" Ash asked through his laughter.
"Only if it needs to be," Misty said ominously, "Why are you calling?"
"Just making sure we're still going to that movie next Tuesday." | c1fe7d36d80c462d8e85b7a152ebd065 | ['d49958f6476b4a7aa482ac29c5820a55'] | Misty had completely forgotten she had promised him to go to this old film showing, normally she'd laugh and ask if he was desperate for her company, but he had reminded her and it was kind of embarrassing how quickly it had slipped her mind.
"Sure, sure," She replied casually, playing it off as if he was the weird one and she'd remembered everything, "I'm always down for throwing popcorn at old bags."
"Sweet! Do you mind if my step-brother comes along, he's staying with me this year, starting college and all. He's awesome, but I need to introduce him to some people."
"No problem, just make sure he knows I will most likely rip into him. I'm an asshole like that. Prepare the poor boy. Make sure he knows that I'm actually a nice person who would never actually mean what I say."
"But you're not, and you do."
"You know me so well."
Then an idea popped into her head. She was still bothered by Iris's caginess this morning and was dying to get answers. Ash knew Iris. Iris knew Ash. Therefor she could get answers from a third party. It was just simple logic. She was brilliant.
"Ash…" Misty began.
"What?"
"Can I ask you a couple questions about Dawn and Iris?"
"Uh… maybe you should just ask them."
"Why is everyone so damn secretive!?"
"Have you shared anything with them?"
"No, that doesn't count though," Misty protested, Ash's silence on the other end of the phone was extremely telling, it definitely counted, "Fine, don't talk. I have to go now. I have a ton of stuff to do because I'm a busy working woman who definitely doesn't need a man's company to thrive. I have so much to do!"
She canceled the call.
She had absolutely nothing to do.
Everyone else was out and Misty had severed her only source of conversation because she got a little annoyed. Nice fucking job.
Serena was at the orchard she worked at, Dawn was throwing a house warming party for Candice and Zoey (seriously it was so weird), May was interviewing for a job, what that job was Misty did not know nor care just so long as she paid the fucking rent at the end of the month. Iris was… on a date? Probably?
Never had Iris set eyes on 'the boyfriend'. All she knew was his name was Cilan and Serena worked for one of his brothers. Judging by Iris's personality the image of Cilan in Misty's head was quite clear. Long messy hair, probably wore a lot of flannel, climbed trees for fun, and was basically an animal. The female version of Iris actually.
Everyone was so secretive.
Then Misty remembered that there was a beautiful tool. God created the internet and gave it to the cavemen for a reason. That reason was to stalk people on facebook and other social media.
Dawn would be first. A girl like that definitely tweeted her life story and Instagramed her face. Girls like that just did that shit. It was science.
"Let's see… Dawn Berlitz…" Misty muttered to herself as she sat at her laptop and typed the name into the search bar.
Just as the page loaded the door opened and Serena emerged.
"Welcome home!" Misty called from the living room.
"Hey Misty, what are you up to?"
"Stalking Dawn's Instagram!"
"Ooo! Let me in on this," She giggled running up to the couch and plopping down close to Misty and staring intently at the screen.
Misty grinned proudly as if Serena was her child, this girl was perfect.
The two were not at all surprised by the content. Dawn posted selfies with friends (she kissed an alarming amount of her friends, Zoey, Candice, Kenny, and Barry included, maybe that was her weird way of showing affection), she had pictures of the skyline, beach, lame ass quotes. Basic as hell.
It was sadly lacking in any real personal information. She didn't have any pictures of people she worked with, Paul included. None of Ash, or Iris now that she thought about it. There were photos of Misty, Serena, and May, but no Iris. It was odd considering Dawn and Iris had been friends much longer compared to the others.
"That was sadly predictable," Serena deadpanned.
Misty had taught her the art of dryness so well. It almost brought a tear to her eye.
"What about May?" She replied, "She'd be interesting to see."
Turns out May had a twitter that she never used, not remotely incriminating. Nothing for Misty to sink her teeth into.
Her Instagram was filled with pictures of her food, places she wanted to travel, and about a million intentionally ugly selfies.
"Remind me to make that her contact photo," Misty said regarding a certain picture where May had about eight chins and buck teeth.
"I'm kind of bummed her Richard Gere isn't on here anywhere."
"I'll say, the only dude she's posted on here is with Shorty-Pants-Four-Eyes here. It's tagged #siblinglove so I'm assuming she didn't jilt _him_ at the altar."
"Let's try Iris," Serena decided, "She'd be interesting."
They tried but to no avail. Iris had a twitter that she'd never posted on. Misty was almost 100% sure that Dawn had set it up for her.
"What about you Misty? Are you on social media?" Serena asked as she typed the words, 'Misty Williams' into the Google search bar.
Misty shook her head,
"I think I had a MySpace when I was like thirteen but it's long gone. Praise the heavens. What about you? OH! Do you have any pictures of Paulie Bleaker?"
"Who?"
"Seriously, Juno is a popular movie, how am I the only one in this house who's seen it?" Misty groaned, deciding that she needed to head over to Walmart and snag it from the $5 movie bin, "I meant the guy who's watering can watered your flower." |
6d8026c0ad304df8a0e286f30529f431 | ['d4a851c1f959429dbce9fd5c7e011537'] | _ “Eddie, you will not be going anywhere. You know you’re always welcome here, ever since you were in-” _
_ “Kindergarten.” The smile on Eddie’s face was natural and stayed despite his whole__ body protesting__ staying standing. Suddenly something fluffy and warm covered his shoulders as gentle yet firm hands rubbed his sides, before leading him up the stairs__ to Richie’s en-suite. Silently, Eddie remembered that Wentworth and his father had been friends when Frank _ _ Kaspbrak _ _ was alive – he also remembered Went and Maggie telling him about Richie saying he had a new friend – Eddie K- and they guessed that this was little Eddie who would have had play dates with Richie before they could remember things, whenever Went and Frank wanted to hang out and Sonia was busy. Before she got like this. Only close to his father’s death did she change; Eddie barely remembered her being anything other than the obsessive woman she was now. _
_ “You should have a shower to get you warm, I’m sure Richie has some of your clothes from the last time you all stayed over, and we can put these in the dryer.” Wentworth explained, making Eddie smile and nodded, thanking him for everything before being given new, dry towels “Just put the wet clothes outside the door and we’ll make sure they’re clean for _ _ tomorrow _ _ ” _
_ “I’m sorry th-” _
_ “Don’t you dare,” Wentworth smiled, tone soft yet left no room for an argument “You’re always welcome here, Eddie. Good and bad times.” Eddie could only nod, a small lump gathering in his throat with happiness. _
_ After the shower, he found the dry clothes had been placed in a bag on the door handle outside while the wet clothes had been taken. Eddie had to keep his clothes here because the time he had come over last with the losers was when he snuck out – if he took his clothes back with him he’d be screwed – and they were the same as before, only washed, Eddie deduced as he lastly slipped the only item of clothing which wasn’t his on over his head before meeting the Tozier’s downstairs. Richie’s shirt went to his upper thighs and was baggy – even on the owner it wasn’t well fitted – and had been a comfort as Eddie sipped on tea Wentworth made and lightly complaining about his mother; even if he wanted to say worse, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to do it. They looked like they knew already anyway. _
“Thanks, Richie,” he smiled and nodded, breath catching as he realised they were pressed up against one another with Beverly glancing at them – she was one of the two people he had confided in and if she made it obvious now, he’d end her for it – and so Eddie smiled, looking down at his hands, pretending to be embarrassed about anything else. Bev saw that the two were done with their talking and announced “Fine! Educate me about ‘oh how good Heath Ledger was’.” The mocking tone earned her a gentle shove by Stan and mock offence by Mike. Everyone back in their own places (Mike at the front since he was staying over Bill’s and had the air mattress and forcing Stan and Bill to share the double bed, Ben + Bev + Eddie and Richie in between the blow-up bed and the real bed, and Bill and Stan on Bill’s bed) allowed the movie to finally begin and found Eddie resting on Richie halfway through, which only continued as they put Daddy Day Care, but most were nearly asleep and Eddie and Richie opted to leave at 10:45, Bev and Ben staying a little longer.
“You sure your parents wouldn’t mind?” The sheepish question was asked again and – for the second time that night – Eddie's heart felt like it would burst from his chest when Richie took his hand to drag him up the steps of his porch
“I think they care way more when you leave.”
\---
“Mom, Dad, I brought a leprechaun home! Maybe he’ll help us become millionaires.” Richie said, grinning as Eddie’s face grew red with what he supposed was faux-anger, but was – in reality – a blush.
“Fuck you, asshole,” he hissed, but jaw dropped as he heard Went instantly call back
“Hello, Eddie!” Needless to say, Richie was in hysterics and couldn’t do anything but laugh – and maybe cry – in the entrance of the household while Eddie made his way into the kitchen – despite worrying he would be a bother, once he entered, Eddie was encouraged and tried to make himself as at home as ever and didn’t feel any trouble navigating his way through to meet his best friends parents after slipping his shoes off. Maggie was sitting at the table, hiding her smile behind her cup while Wentworth had just finished loading the dishwasher
“Is not sleeping a Tozier family thing?” He asked, jokingly of course, before Wentworth had patted his back and encouraged him inside
“I have a week off of work and Maggie doesn’t work tomorrow,”
“We aim to enjoy it,” Mrs Tozier continued as Eddie sat down, crossing his legs on the kitchen chair only for Richie to lean on his shoulders, having Eddie swallow at the typical proximity but ply it off as a groan of annoyance. Everyone saw through it, but the two adults shared knowing looks without the two boys catching on to them.
“So no objections for Eds over here to stay over?” Richie asked before Eddie softly nudged him, way too comfortable with being so carefree about it for Eddie’s typical standards with his own mother, but the Toziers just looked at him as if he said the stupidest thing ever
“Of course not,” Wentworth said, but they knew they should make sure | 61e523bc16464c6e972bcde5bdd94095 | ['d4a851c1f959429dbce9fd5c7e011537'] | At times like these, ones with his mother (who had been violently coughing from the self-described stress) suddenly silent and happily sitting in front of the TV, Eddie was unsure how he could have been blind for so long; she used her emotions to make Eddie feel bad, to stay in and get rid of his friends, just like the summer where he broke his arm while defending Georgie from some street clown.
\--------------
** Welcome to the Losers Club, Asshole **
** RichieTZ ** ** : ** _ [WishingYouWereHere] _
_ (Description: Richie being in the foreground while Bev, Bill and Ben were behind him on the right and Mike and Stan were on the left, on a rock; they were all smiling while Richie grinned so wide his eyes were squinting] _
** RichieTZ ** ** : **Hope Mrs. K isn’t locking you up all summer, we need you
** JustaBoyFromDairy ** ** : **Yeah!
** JustaBoyFromDairy ** ** : **Plus Richie cut his knee already so we really do need you to stop him
** B( ** ** ev ** ** )****itchIHopeTheFuckYouDo ** ** : **stop this chaotic disaster
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : ** We need Eddie to _ encourage _me not stop me
** PoorManNamedRich: **smh fake fans
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **also im a chaotic good get it right
** HyprocondriSnac ** ** : **how about I sneak out tonight after my mom’s fallen asleep and we can watch bad films at Bill’s
** 1-Did-I-Stutter-800: **Why are you renting my house out?
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **Eddie the pimp
** Benjamenjamin: **of houses?
** PoorManNamedRich: **yes
** JustaBoyFromDairy ** ** : **Real estate agents
** 1-Did-I-Fucking-Ask-800: **Christ.
** HyprocondriSnac ** ** : **Is that a no, Bill?
** 1-Did-I-Stutter-800: **…
** 1-Did-I-Stutter-800: **of course not
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **then its settled. Movies at Billiam’s place at 8:30.
\------------------
Direct Message from ** _ Bill.Den _ ** to ** _ RichieTZ _ **
** Bill.Den ** ** : **You didn’t need to try to bribe me with a milkshake, but now you offered I want Vanilla
** Bill.Den: **You know I would say yes
** RichieTZ ** ** : **just making sure
** RichieTZ ** ** : **gotta see my Eds somehow
** Bill.Den ** ** : **gayass
** RichieTZ ** ** : **who are you? Bev?
** RichieTZ ** ** : **its Bi-ass aktually
** Bill.Den ** ** : **Aktually
** RichieTZ ** ** : ** _ *Middle Finger Emoji* _
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This is just a chapter to fill in and the next one should be longer, hopefully. I really want to get to the meater bits I have planned, but I also love having more Reddie content.
Despite agreeing to meet the rest of his friends at Bill’s house for 8:30, Eddie quickly realised – as it stuck 8:45 – that his mother was probably staying up in order to see if Richie would dare try and disturb Eddie. The claim wasn’t unfounded as Sonia had found Richie on Eddie’s bed as they played cards when Eddie was forbidden to see his friend– and only him – due to Sonia and Margret Tozier having a fallout over something; whatever it was, Eddie couldn’t it catch as his mother was purposefully quiet when discussing the issue over the landline.
Ready to send a text to the group chat in order to tell Bill of his tardiness, Eddie pulled out his phone only for the familiar snores fill the home an hour later than typical evenings; he supposed it was his mother’s ‘early to bed, early to rise’ philosophy which caused the matriarch to settle down for bed at 7:30, only to be passed out by 7:50.
For once, Eddie was glad he had left his phone on silent as he slowly and carefully made his way onto the secure branch of the tree beside his window, climbing down one step at a time rather than easily slide down – the wood could have already given him splinters and if the risk of infection wasn’t bad, the threat of his mother’s questioning would be. That left Eddie’s mind once his feet touched the damp grass as the fading light of the sunset had cast a spray of dew which could be felt by the transfer of heat – or lack there-of – through his converse. Reaching the safety of the earth, Eddie found himself looking at the phone which was constantly lighting up with messages rather than the usual ping.
\----
** Welcome to the Losers Club, Asshole:**
** E-Did-I-Stutter-800: **are you on your way Eddie?
** JustaBoyFromDairy ** ** : **We have Little Nicky here
** Benjamenjamin ** ** : **and Daddy Day Care
** B( ** ** ev ** ** ) ** ** itchIHopeTheFuckYouDo ** ** : **and popcorn or gummy worms
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **we do not have gummy worms
** B(ev)itchIHopeTheFuckYouDo: ** …
** B( ** ** ev ** ** ) ** ** itchIHopeTheFuckYouDo ** ** : ** we do not have gummy worms because someone can’t keep their hands to themselves
** HypocondriSnac ** ** : **Why are you all talking in the chat?
** HypocondriSnac ** ** : **you’re literally all together
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **Well someone is an almost an hour late
** HypocondriSnac ** ** : **Im late by,,, thirty minutes
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **and anything coulda happened, Eds
** 1-Did-I-Fucking-Ask-800: **Couldn’t have just spelt ‘could have’ ,Richie?
** PoorManNamedRich ** ** : **How about you suck my massive dick
** 1-Did-I-Fucking-Ask-800: **Maybe if you had one
** Benjamenjamin ** ** : **OOOOH
** B( ** ** ev ** ** ) ** ** itchIHopeTheFuckYouDo ** ** : **ooooooo
** HypocondriSnac ** ** : **get fucked, Richie |
560f66f74c5e4138bf84f51413dee669 | ['d4d1db290cfc424e9650b9317de3b0dc'] |
White Iris
**Author's Note:**
> Okay, please bear with me on this one. This was another dream I had. (I have the weirdest dreams) The actor playing Edward Mordrake is actually really good looking! (Wes Bentley!) The portrait I had in my mind of Edward Mordrake is a more modern version of the character. I hope you like it!
The symptoms of being taken started with the faintest hint of despair that grew slowly over time. The torment of disappointment in everyday life coalesced into a crippling depression, which was the second indicator that he was coming.
"There's a man at my window at night." My friend whispers to me before class begins. This was the third known manifestation of being abducted.
"What are you talking about?" I ask back harshly, trying to mask my fear.
There's only five symptoms and everyone in town knows this. Edward Mordrake got tired of claiming souls with his band of freaks and retired to our small community--his hobby was stealing young women from their bedrooms. Suicidal young women, with a thirst for death.
"He keeps appearing and looks through my blinds. Yesterday, I wasn't sure if he was really there since there was a storm and no moonlight, but when lightning struck, I saw his heartless blue eyes and heard the whispers of his second head over the crashing thunder." She said with a hint of craziness etched into her facial features. It was evident she was not sleeping good-- if at all.
"Molly." I sighed while clutching the edge of my book hard, trying to come up with the right words to fool not only her, but myself too. "You must be dreaming. You're the happiest person I know, why would you want to die? He only comes for people with a _death wish."_
The edge of her mouth slightly twitched as her face drained of color.
"I wake up sometimes in the morning crumpled against the wall of the window, its always open. I even dreamt I reached out into the rain and touched his face. When I woke, my pajamas were wet." I felt my panic level rise as she whispered this. The fourth indicator is _sleep walking._
"I wasn't aware this was a chatroom." The teacher says and glowers at us angrily. "Do you mind if I teach now?"
"Sorry ma'am." Molly mumbles while running a hand through her straggly hair to avoid her embarrassment.
As the teacher begins to write on the board and ease into her lecture, I leaned over and whispered vehemently into Molly's ear.
"You live on the goddamn second floor though!"
I should've listened to her. That was the last time I saw her. She was taken from her room-- her window wide open and her carpet stained with wet, bloody footprints. They say his kiss is what takes you from this world and that it is sealed with blood.
It poured that night-- just like inside my heart. Grief weighed down my chest as I laid sprawled out on my bed. I was too sad to cry, my mournfulness stayed coiled within me. The noise of rain hitting every known surface was the only sound as the black doors to the dreamworld opened for me. Sleepwalking is a terrifying feat-- one that you don't know is happening to you until it's over. Blurry and darkened images of my feet walking one the sidewalk consistently interrupt the darkness of my slumbering mind for brief flashes of a moment. The rain runs its fingers greedily over my whole body as my socks dip into slushes of puddles while crossing the street, but I can't feel any of it. The streetlights produce a fleeting spotlight for me, but burn out as I pass underneath them. The only thing I am acutely aware of is my soul freely dancing in the mystery of being carried into the rich darkness of the unknown.
When I woke, I was startled to find my surroundings to be unfamiliar to me. With my heart pounding in my chest and my thoughts screaming in my mind-- I tried to make sense of what was happening. I perused the room with an escalating sense of panic arising within. Everything was drenched in black-- the floor, the room, even the bedsheets that I flung off me as I rushed towards the door. My breathing was so loud as my fearful whimpers of fear echoed through the halls that I rushed through.
"Excuse me, excuse me!" I shouted to no one in particular as I ran down the winding, embellished staircase. The hall was darkened, but was lit vaguely by the dawn starting to creep across the sky and in through the elongated windows. "Please! Excuse me!" I screamed again as my voice bounced against the high ceiling, right before face planting hard into the stairs.
My lungs unsuccessfully grabbed at the air as I tried to peel myself from the edge of the stair that was imprinted into my ribcage. My adrenaline didn't let me feel the full extent of the pain of my injury, and I gasped at seeing a presence in the doorway to one of the rooms I passed in my frenzy. He peered from behind the wall at me-- a permanent misleading smile was etched onto his face while his eyes displayed an angry type of mania. I quickly got up and ran further down the stairs with fear nipping at my heels. The basement was where I found myself with no other hint of a way out (The front door was bolted shut and adorned with gloom) and a strange green mist whispered into the air and billowed from an emanating puddle of divine mischievousness.
"Hello?" I asked the emptiness as the stair creaked when I took a step forward. | 6218b470cce840629f0d08230739f993 | ['d4d1db290cfc424e9650b9317de3b0dc'] | “At first, when I saw you guys together, I thought you were just friends, really good friends.” She slurs as my vision slightly contracts and I squeeze my half full glass. “Then one day when I was walking home from the bar, drunk as hell, I saw you guys dancing in the skeleton.” (The skeleton was an abandoned fixture that a construction crew started to build, setting up the beams, but eventually deserted due to complications in the blueprints.) And as you kissed, I though 'Man, that is love.” She said as my eyes started to water from the pain of that memory.
I remembered that chilly night so well, it was the middle of September. Ian had given me his sweatshirt (which now lays crumpled in the corner at home, just like my hope of seeing him again) and although the building's foundation was beveled, the overgrown grass and daisies adorned the concrete floor. As we danced among the flowers, my mother's words from the past reverberated in the air.
I couldn't say anything for a while, her sincerity rendered me speechless.
“Let's get another drink.” I finally said, choking back my heartache.
She just stared at me in a splendor of drunkenness as the bartender poured us shots. As I raised the glass to my lips and drank back the tears, she murmured _“You two went together so well.”_
“Hey... hey.” A voice called to me from what seemed like far away. My eyes traced every stitch in the pale curtain in front of me as my mind recalled every line to Ian's face. “Hey!” The voice hissed again, but closer this time. A hand touched my shoulder and I snapped out of my trance.
“What is it?” I asked, turning to my co-worker Matt, who gazed at me with a look of concern.
“I was saying before you went into outer space, that I'm having a party at my place tonight. It'd be nice to see you there.” He said with a smile despite his furrowed brow.
I smiled politely. “What time?” I said with feigned interest.
“After work. Basically, now.” He chuckled.
Matt was a real nice guy, he always had insane get togethers and invited everyone from work. No one ever spoke about it during work hours, no matter how crazy it got. It was our little secret underground. “I'll see you later.” He gave me a smile, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fumbled to pull out one as he walked towards the exit.
My breath moved in front of me like a ghost every time I exhaled on my walk home. It was fucking freezing, but I couldn't feel it. I slammed the front door closed, it echoed throughout my empty apartment and every reverberation struck me. I noticed the vacancy of my home too well, it was a stern product of my loneliness. As I sat down on the couch, dazed and still in my winter coat, the ipod clock switched itself on again. The sad tune of Placebo's “Special Needs” tore into the air.
_Remember me..._
“I can't do this.” I thought to myself while tearing myself off the couch in search of the ipod player.
_Remember me when you're the one you've always dreamed._
My thoughts were racing faster than the fierce pounding of my heart. Where is it? Where the fuck is it? I tore into the other room and stumbled in the dark as the music grew stronger.
_I guess I thought you had the flavor..._
I tripped over a chair and took the ipod player down with me. It crashed hard onto the floor, but continued to play.
_Dream Obscene..._
“Stop playing you stupid broken thing!” I shrieked as I hovered over it and violently ripped it's cord from the wall. It laid helpless at my knees and as I cradled it to my chest, I realized it was not the only broken thing in the room. “Fuck this.” I thought before getting up to go to the party.
Laughter and the smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke filled the dense air. The lights were dim, but the loud music and thumping stereo system made up for it. People packed into every room with solo cups in their hands.
“Hey, why don't you come outside with me for a second?” Matt says while leaning in too close to me. We were already too close for comfort on the small futon with three other people. I gave him a quizzical look that asked “Why?”
He just laughed and put his hand on my knee. “It'll be worth it, I promise.” He says while getting up and I set down my drink to follow him to the backyard.
The frigid air of winter hit us pretty hard and I look up at the white clouds mixing with the deep purple of midnight.
“You need a light?” Matt asks and hops closer to cup the flame for my cigarette as I lean in to light it.
“Thanks.” I say as we both breath out a sigh of smoke.
“So whats been up with you?” He inquires, ashing his cigarette by nervously flicking it more times than it needed.
“What do you mean?” I responded, somewhat startled. I didn't realize anyone else had really noticed my troubles or bothered to care.
“Dude, you've lost weight and always seem super sad at work.” He says.
“I just miss someone.” I say and cringe right after I say it. _Fucking vulnerability._ |
dd25fdd404ab412aa5c6b4832839c404 | ['d4ec2230c0ae47beac188ba6b42647a7'] | I stood in the middle of the pasture looking at my surroundings. In the distance, I saw more Redcoat soldiers. One of them was driving a horse and cart. I thought of Captain Randall and shuddered. He was a horrible man. I didn't understand how one could be so horrid following the war. It was almost as if he had never lived through it.
I stopped in my tracks and threw my hands over my mouth in complete and utter shock.
Jonathan Wolverton Randall hadn't lived through the war. He had lived 200 years before the war. The reason Frank and Claire Randall were visiting Inverness was to find out information about him. Then suddenly everything started to make sense. The Redcoats. Randall's attitude toward women. The clothes. No electricity. No Lottie. Oh, God. That couldn't be possible. Could it? It seemed impossible, but it was the most rational thing I could come up with: I was somehow in the 18th century.
And then it dawned on me that if this was truly the 18th century, Mistress Campbell was not nearly as startled by my modern appearance as she should have been.
* * *
Author's Note: Next chapter, my people. Next chapter we will finally meet the person y'all have been waiting for! Also, I am attempting NaNoWriMo this year...for this story. So hopefully I can get quite a few updates out this month. We shall see if I can keep up with it though. :) While this will be the third weekend in a row that I've updated *gasp* I know for sure I won't next weekend. I'm taking a little trip about 2,000 miles away. Haha. If this NaNoWriMo thing goes well, I'll aim for Thursday to get another update out. But like I said, it's gonna depend on NaNoWriMo goes. :)
A big shoutout to those who reviewed
FFN: Waiting for the Lights, Laura201112, Hoqwaarts, Letthestarssing, You'vegotmail24, ej101, Snow Treasure, A-Song-Of-Quill-and-Feather, Talk With Your Hands, chrisxgirlx, Slow Dancing in the Snow, Nixdragon, Wayward Jules, superpsychonatural, DayStorm, TwilightEclps, and Awesome Sauce1998
AO3: JanMarie
Also, thank you to Renny Autumn for her continued support and constantly reading over chapters for me to make sure that they make sense. She's the best. This story wouldn't be here without her.
6. Of Lassies and Cows
The 18th century. How had I ended up in the 18th century? As I began the trek back to Mistress Campbell's house, I tried to play out in my head my last moments back in my time. Lottie and I had danced at the stones. Then, there was a clanging noise...and voices. Lottie reached out for the stones but I swatted her hand away. And then I fell toward the stone. I don't remember the pain of colliding with the stone. Instead, I found myself waking up atop Craigh na Dun, lying on my back.
I stopped for a second to catch my breath and ran my fingers through my messy golden waves. Truthfully, I had always wanted to live during the 18th century. I was utterly fascinated by the stories of Ben and Lydia. But then more questions plagued me. What year was it? Perhaps I was wrong about it being the 18th century. Maybe it was the 17th. I knew nothing about Scotland's history except what I had read in the book Lottie gave me or what Frank Randall had prattled on about at dinner last night. Had it really only been last night? One thing was certain I could be easily mistaken when it was. I simply made an assumption based on what I knew. Even if I was right, a century was a long time, a hundred years worth of history. Well, it would be history for me. These people were currently living it.
My thoughts returned to Mistress Campbell. Why hadn't she been more surprised to see me? If this was truly the past, then my outfit should have shocked her. Now that I thought about it, her reaction seemed more like one recognizing something they hadn't seen in a long time. My undergarments alone would have sent her running for the hills. Instead, she had said nothing and helped me into a shift. I then realized why she placed herself between me and Captain Randall. If he thought that being mute made me a whore, my modern outfit, which was quite modest for my time, was not suitable for this time...whatever time it was.
I exhaled slowly before taking in another deep breath. I thought I was handling this rather well, all things considered. I mean, how often did one fall back in time? (It was only later I would realize it happened more often than I thought.) I probably should have been more terrified. I should probably be fleeing back toward Craigh na Dun. But I wasn't. I knew that women were not always treated with the respect they deserved. And yet, the fires of adventure within me had been flamed. I had spent the last few years trapped. Besides Lottie, I had no one back home. Everything I owned belonged to Stephen Arbuckle Sr. I had wanted another chance at life and I was being given one. A certainly unexpected chance, but a chance nonetheless. Besides, if I found my sense of adventuring severely waning, I could always head back to the stones again. But for now, I had other concerns. Mistress Campbell being my top priority.
I smiled. A genuine smile too. When was the last time I had been this excited for something? I didn't know. I probably sounded crazy, but I couldn't help but hope that I'd be able to meet Ben and Lydia Tallmadge while I was here. Of course, if they were alive, they'd be across the Atlantic Ocean which would require me to make a rather difficult passage. But I was a Tallmadge. We had strong constitutions in our favor. | 313a6255e9364c169872c70b590a8af6 | ['d4ec2230c0ae47beac188ba6b42647a7'] |
1. The Story Begins
_Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and _ _more also, if ought but death part thee and me. Ruth 1:16-17_
I stared at the words on the page before me. They seemed so profound. To be able to love someone so deeply was something I had always wanted and craved. I glanced at the band on my left hand before I clenched the hand into a fist. I had convinced myself that I had found what I had been looking for, but I think I was so caught up in the idea of love that I never actually allowed myself to find it. I had settled for what I thought was love. I knew now that I was wrong. But that didn't really matter now.
I closed my Bible and relaxed against the pillows of my bed. The book of Ruth always managed to bring me comfort and was my favorite book of the Bible. Perhaps it was the fact that we shared the name that made my connection deeper. Although, now I seemed to further understand Ruth's perspective having lost a husband myself. My brow furrowed. I knew I should feel sadder about Stephen's death. But I didn't. I hadn't truly needed him the way a wife needs a husband. Besides, the last few months had been rather hellish with him needing constant care and attention and as the doting wife, it had been my job to see to it. It wasn't that I minded looking after him. It was the fact that I knew my life would never be fulfilled the way I wished it to be.
I glanced around the room. It had been Stephen's boyhood room. Stephen's father, Stephen for whom he was named after, had insisted that we reside in his home when Stephen began to decline more rapidly. While it certainly had made the burden a bit easier, it came with its own challenges. The first being that the home was in Inverness, Scotland. Aside from schooling, I had only ever known life in the United States, the country my ancestors had fought to build. The second being the only people I knew were members of his family, most of whom I could hardly find refuge. And the third, everyone was still recovering from the war. No place seemed to have been safe from the turmoil of it. Then again, war was nothing new to my family.
Once more, I opened my Bible, but to the front cover where my family tree had been written. I could trace my lineage back to the American Revolution where Major Benjamin Tallmadge along with his wife, Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge had secretly gathered intelligence essential to defeating the British. The Culper Spy Ring. Not many people knew of it, but I was certainly proud to have descended from Ben and Lydia especially given their contribution to the fight for freedom. And their love story was one to be envied. I know I certainly did. Their story probably nurtured my unrealistic expectations concerning love. I yearned for a love like theirs. Or at least I had. I wasn't sure what I believed anymore.
A small knock came at the door. Before I could even tell the person on the other side to enter, the door opened and quickly shut again. Before me stood Charlotte Arbuckle, more affectionately known as Lottie, in her nightgown, robe, and slippers standing with her back against my door. She stood there for a moment as if she were frozen in place before she ran over to my bed and hopped onto it beside me.
Lottie had dark brown curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, a warm smile, and had the pleasure of being my closest friend and confidant. We had met at the London (Royal Free Hospital) School of Medicine for Women. While we both attended medical school for completely different reasons, we found the company of each other quite enjoyable and became fast friends after a small hiccup in our early acquaintance. It was also through Lottie I had met Stephen. He had seemed to take quite a fancy to me and I was quite flattered by the attention, having at the time been recently orphaned at the time of his proposal. The thought of Lottie as a true sister was quite appealing, especially with her being the closest thing I had to family.
"How are you tonight, sister?" Lottie asked softly with a small sympathetic expression on her face as she took hold of my hand. I appreciated that she still called me sister, despite the fact that our connection was no longer.
"I'm fine, Lottie," I responded gently patting her hand with my free one, my American accent contrasting her Scottish one. "I promise."
I glanced at her and attempted a reassuring smile. I could tell that she didn't believe me, but she said nothing more. She just gave me a curt nod and squeezed my hand once more. "I-I need to brush my hair," I blurted suddenly before I got to my feet and walked to the small vanity in the room. I wasn't sure why that burst from me or why brushing my hair seemed the next best course of action. Then again, I wasn't sure about a lot of things these days. |
da4c327e035c470c9b9b5aec3c9c6a96 | ['d4fa3dad8637444f8af1cd3766807843'] | Every time their lips come apart, Seunghyub can hear the soft smack, can hear Hun breathe in through his nose and press in just a little deeper. Seunghyub slides his hands up Hun’s back, runs the tips of his fingers along the ridges in Hun’s spines and grabs onto his shoulders like an anchor. He feels boneless, floating, wrapped up in a blanket called Hun.
They’re awash in blue, dipped in stardust and moonbeams and they’re drifting, boundless.
Hun brings a hand up, fingers tucked in the curve behind Seunghyub’s ear, his palm pressed against the vein in Seunghyub’s neck, linking up to his heartbeat. Seunghyub breathes him in, tastes him, drinks him up soft and slow as Hun lies in his hands, his kisses sleepy, languid.
Gradually, to the sound of crickets floating in from outside, they still, barely moving, mouths still pressed together. They breathe against each other and Seunghyub can feel every movement of it, Hun’s chest pressing against his, the air hitting his cheeks. Seunghyub doesn’t bother to open his eyes, just tilts his head and nudges his forehead against Hun’s, feels the warmth of their skin mix together in the cool air.
He strokes a thumb along Hun’s side and falls asleep, their legs tangled together, souls knotted up.
-
Hun is quite pleasantly minding his own business when Seunghyub decides - extremely rudely, as a matter of fact - to throw his world into chaos. He’s laying on the couch, feet propped up in Hweseung’s lap, head bolstered on the arm as they both stare at their phones, the TV screen paused to a flickering still image. They’re waiting for Jaehyun to get back so they can continue their movie when the front door opens and Seunghyub calls out, “I’m back”.
“Welcome back,” they chorus absentmindedly.
And Hun is prepared to let the moment slide away completely, forgotten, ready to be lost to the annals of time, but then Seunghyub walks into the room and Hun sees him. Seunghyub walks into the room, hair still damp from a shower, his shorts showing off muscled thighs, his tank revealing far more arm than Hun’s brain has any idea how to process right now. The room is dim but it doesn’t seem to make a difference because Seunghyub’s skin is shining, softly glimmering like the faint twinkle of stars in the sky.
With him, he brings the heady smell of pollen, the scent hanging off him like an overgrown flower. Hun smells it when Seunghyub pokes him out of the way and drops down next to him, bare arm brushing against Hun’s and leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Hun resolutely keeps his eyes on his phone, even if his eyes no longer see what’s on the screen anymore.
Seunghyub spread out on the couch, arms reaching out along the back, legs spread wide and lazy as he and Hweseung strike up a conversation. He drops his head back and Hun fights down an irrational fit of anger because Seunghyub is casual, languid and easy, and Hun’s being eaten up on the inside. He wants to climb into Seunghyub’s lap and lick the flowerdust from his skin, wants to pull Seunghyub off the couch and into his room and get lost in his hands.
The burn in his lungs reminds him, makes him distinctly aware that Hweseung is on the couch with him, that Haehyun will be coming back from the bathroom any minute and _ now is not the time _ . And it’s not fair, it’s incredibly infuriating because they’re not alone and Hun’s getting worked up all on his own, like Seunghyub’s showing off his shoulders and collarbones just to tease him, spread out like he knows that Hun wants to crawl inside his bones and _ can’t _.
Hun quietly wishes to die.
Seunghyub places a hand on the back of Hun’s neck as he talks and Hun walks to jump into a trash compactor. It takes all of his willpower not to grab Seunghyub’s wrist and let him see just how much Hun wants him to do it again, company be damned.
When Jaehyun reenters the room, Seunghyub greets him and promptly announces that he’s going to take a nap, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s causing. Seunghyub leaves and Jaehyun takes his spot on the couch but Hun’s rocketing up, feels like all his joints have seized up, shaky and stiff as he walks away without looking back.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he calls robotically, words cranking out of his mouth like they’re dragged on a conveyor belt. “You guys start without me.”
Hun practically sprints from the room, away from Hweseung’s complaints and Jaehyun’s confusion, and locks himself in the bathroom. He’s keyed up and mortified at his own willingness to forsake any and all courtesy and etiquette for the sake of getting off, even with Jaehyun and Hweseung in the living room, even with Seunghyub’s room next door.
Instead, Hun stands in the bathroom and thinks of every disgusting and decidedly unsexy thing he possibly can until his erection dies out completely and he can pretend everything is behind him.
-
Seunghyub’s room is starting to smell like Hun.
He has the startling realization when he turns his face into his pillow and smells Hun, faint but undeniable, lingering there. It only makes sense, what with how much time Hun has spent infiltrating the tiny, cramped room in favor of, oh, anywhere else in the dorm. (Not that Seunghyub’s complaining, mind you.)
Now is one such time; Hun is curled up on the sheets, hair unbrushed, sleeves of his thin sleep shirt flopping over his hands. He’d woken up somewhere around noon and wandered in Seunghyub’s room, aimless and bored, and Seunghyub had let him stay because of course he had. So now his room smells even more like Hun, warm and spicy and clean. Sharp. | 0400927b0e5049f18476c0be18e03eb0 | ['d4fa3dad8637444f8af1cd3766807843'] |
Those Days
**Author's Note:**
> I may or may not still be crying over the fact that Leo never dressed up
Taekwoon waits backstage and monitors the members' stage, face and mind both blank. They flip their hair and give cute smiles, skirts bouncing around their legs. Two hours of make up and styling and the performance is over in less than five minutes. He watches the others file into their dressing room, being carefully changed back into their plain clothes, wigs and makeup left in place to be dealt with on their own.
Taekwoon pulls his cap lower over his face, head down as they leave the building. The car is noisy as they make their return to the dorms, Wonsik and Hakyeon loud as always and Jaehwan playing up his new feminine appearance with another impression. Hakyeon calls for silence and begins to take numerous selcas and everyone begins shouting and posing in the background. Taekwoon looks up to the front seat as Hakyeon does a v-sign and then turns back to look out the window. He doesn't want to be in the car anymore.
Even with the wigs on, now that they're wearing their street clothes it's fairly easy to tell that they're a male idol group and everyone is ushered out of the van and into the building quickly. Once inside, Sanghyuk tears off his wig and sits on the couch with legs spread wide. He liked to play up the cute on camera but there were no cameras here and so he reverts back to his lazy, teenage self.
Taekwoon picks up the wig carefully and places it on the table.
Hongbin and Wonsik are alternating between making cute faces and flexing their biceps and Hongbin is about five seconds away from falling over in laughter. Jaehwan is prancing around with a ladle in his hand, talking in a loud, high pitched voice and smacking the members on the arms.
Hakyeon is being surprisingly calm and quiet, sitting on the couch with his phone and doing something or other. Taekwoon had expected him to be preening in front of the mirror (but maybe he'd gotten enough of that after he'd first been made up). But then he looks up and catches Taekwoon's eye and Taekwoon feels something run through him.
Hakyeon stands up and orders the members to wash up and go out and enjoy themselves for the rest of the night. There is a brief struggle for the bathroom (Sanghyuk only just beats out Hongbin, and Wonsik tripped immediately after turning toward the door) and within twenty minutes everyone is back to bare faces and messy hair. Hakyeon makes them promise to keep their hats on and then ushers them out the door.
Taekwoon isn't sure whether or not he has a bad feeling about this.
Hakyeon turns toward him, still in his wig, pigtails swishing over his shoulders. He has his bag with him and gently pulls out another wig, smoothing it down slowly. Taekwoon looks from the wig to Hakyeon's face and Hakyeon's eyes are shining from more than just the make up.
"I brought this for you," Hakyeon says, voice quiet but not unsure.
Taekwoon doesn't say anything as he steps forward and takes the wig lightly. His face is obscured by his hat and he's glad for it. He strokes the wig with his fingertips gingerly and looks back at Hakyeon, asking without words if this is okay. Hakyeon grabs his wrist, painted nails standing out against Taekwoon's pale skin, and brings him towards his room and Taekwoon lets him for once, socked feet shuffling on the wooden floor.
Hakyeon sits him down on his mattress and pulls out a small bag, buried underneath clothing, from the back of the closet. He kneels down next to Taekwoon and unzips the bag, mascaras and lip glosses spilling out. And then Hakyeon reaches out and takes the wig from Taekwoon's hands, pulling off Taekwoon's hat and brushing his bangs out of the way before carefully securing the wig.
Taekwoon sits silently while Hakyeon tilts his chin up, fingers and brushes moving delicately over his face. He closes his eyes, feeling Hakyeon sweeping a color over his eyelids and then watches the light catch off Hakyeon's eye make up as Hakyeon meticulously lines his eyes. He looks beautiful like this.
After Hakyeon has brushed something sticky and shiny across his lips, he brings Taekwoon into the bathroom to see. Taekwoon stares at himself in silence. The wig is similar to his hair from their Hyde promotions but Hakyeon had made his face look softer than their usual smoky eyes. His whole face is bright and glowing, eyes and lips sparkling, and the ends of his soft wig are brushing against the top of his shoulders.
Hakyeon comes up behind Taekwoon as he stares at himself in the mirror and wraps his arms around Taekwoon's waist. He rests his chin on top of Taekwoon's shoulder and locks eyes with him through their reflection.
"What do you think?"
And Taekwoon continues to look fixedly into the mirror, taking in his appearance. It's not that he hates being dressed up to look like a girl or even that he finds it embarrassing. What he hates is when they make him wear it in public, in front of all those laughing, jeering faces. But when it's here, where he can chose what to wear and when he wants to be like this, he feels happy.
He feels comfortable.
His eyes shift from his own face to Hakyeon's. "Thank you," he says almost inaudibly, looking down.
Hakyeon smiles and holds him tighter for a moment. Taekwoon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep and then places his hands over Hakyeon's. Hakyeon just closes his eyes, smiling serenely and leaning his head against Taekwoon's. They stand together in silence, fingers laced together loosely, as Taekwoon looks into the mirror, imprinting this feeling into his memories.
They take a picture together later that night, on Taekwoon's phone so that it will be their little secret; Taekwoon is smiling almost imperceptibly as Hakyeon presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, the two of them seeming to shine with almost uncontainable happiness. Shortly after, they remove the make up, and store all the wigs carefully. The other members return to Taekwoon watching a movie on his computer, headphones plugged in so as not to disturb the sleeping Hakyeon resting against him. Everyone goes to sleep and none are the wiser to what happened while they were gone.
But Taekwoon will always have that memory. |
ff53da5372b54a988503bfbad1b504e0 | ['d50767d9ab0547dabe2b6b4366f0ef88'] | While Legolas seemed unperturbed by the reaction his answer was receiving, the same could not be said for the rest of the company. It was only Aragorn and Gandalf who did not seem surprised, though the former was now looking around the camp in a way that heavily implied that if anyone said anything even slightly rude he would personally make them regret it. Legolas ignored the shocked stares being sent his way by Boromir and Gimli and turned to Gandalf and signed something that was almost too fast to follow to the wizard. Gandalf nodded and turned to the rest of the group.
“Elves do eat meat, Peregrin, but do so less regularly than men and hobbits,” said Gandalf.
Pippin nodded. He didn’t really know what to say, and was afraid that if he spoke he would end up saying the wrong thing and offend the elf.
“Do any of you use sign language?” asked Aragorn suddenly, and shook his head upon receiving a mix of offended, confused and guilt filled head shakes.
“Who does?” asked Boromir, getting to his feet and gesturing to Legolas. “What use is an elf who none of us can understand?” He shook his head and shot an angry look at Gandalf. “Why was he allowed to join this Fellowship? Who thought this wise, when it was perfectly clear this quest called for warriors?”
At this Gandalf also got to his feet, staff clenched somewhat menacingly in his hand, and made as if to shout back. But Legolas interrupted him by putting a hand on his shoulder and, looking at Aragorn, began to sign. His hands moved swiftly and with elegance, and Merry found himself transfixed even if he understood none of what was being said. Aragorn was nodding along to Legolas’ words, making it evident he too understood the language.
_I am not helpless. Among my people I am a warrior, and am not regarded as being any less than this because I use sign language. Along with many others I lead patrols across our lands and I can assure you I will not be a weakness in this fellowship, even if none of you understand me._
It was only once Legolas finished what he was saying that Aragorn turned to Boromir, who had been watching the whole exchange with a sort of enraged bewilderment.
“What Legolas wishes you to know is that he successfully leads patrols and other missions in the Woodland Realm, and has no trouble defending himself or others in battle,” Aragorn said, glancing quickly at the elf to ensure he had managed to say everything the way the elf had. Legolas gave him a soft nod, before turning back to Boromir.
“I do not doubt your strength in battle,” Boromir said, in a tone that was quieter but no less angry, “I merely doubt your ability to understand us, and we you. If you have done as much as you say, then surely you understand this?”
Legolas shook his head at the man. He then signed something, a lot more slowly than he had previously.
_Surely, man of Gondor, it is not beneath you to learn some of the signs? I understand every word which leaves your mouth, so I am unable to see the issue._
Aragorn nodded again and translated.
“Legolas said that it is surely not beyond you to learn a few basic signs to understand him, and that as he is able to understand you perfectly he does not see the problem.”
“Then he is a fool,” Boromir hissed, “What do we do when we have to engage in fighting, and need to convey information? I am sure I speak for a number of those present when I say I did not come along on this quest to engage in this sort of nonsense. I came along under the impression I was in the company of the strongest representatives available from each race. And now I travel with a mute elf.”
He shook his head towards Legolas once more before muttering that he would get more wood for the fire and departing from the group into the woods. Gandalf cast an annoyed glance at his retreating back.
“Does anyone else have any such concerns?” he asked, looking around at those assembled.
The hobbits all shook their heads, although Merry was now regarding Legolas with more curiosity than he had before. Aragorn also shook his head, though the gesture was evidently more one of disappointment towards Boromir’s reaction. He has expected more understanding from the man with whom he had, only minutes before, been having a friendly conversation. Gimli gave no response.
“Master dwarf, are you of the same view as Boromir?” he asked, softening his tone slightly.
“Gandalf, I have no great love for elves whether they speak or not. However, him being quiet means I am spared having to hear any elvish singing and for that I am grateful. I heard enough in Rivendell to last me a lifetime.”
Legolas smiled at that.
_If the dwarf does not understand me then I am free to insult him as and when I wish_ , Legolas signed.
Aragorn gave a short laugh at that, then translated.
“He said he is also happy for he can now insult you and you will not know what he says,” Aragorn said with a smile.
Gimli’s only response was a gruff groan, which only caused Legolas to smile wider.
“Have you always been unable to speak?” asked Pippin suddenly, his curiosity getting the better of him once again.
The smile slipped from Legolas’s face almost as quickly as it had come. He shook his head, and gave no further explanation.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Pippin said, quietly. He suddenly became aware of how personal a question it had been to ask someone whom he barely knew and hung his head in embarrassment. Legolas got up and put a gentle hand on the hobbit’s shoulder to let him know not to worry.
_I will return shortly; I wish to check our perimeters. Old habits die hard I am afraid_ , he signed, and Aragorn nodded and translated for the benefit of the hobbits, who had been watching the whole exchange with great interest. Pippin made as though he wished to ask another question but Aragorn shook his head.
“I will speak no more of Legolas and his signing,” he said, “It is up to him to explain and he would not appreciate us sitting and discussing him when he is not present.”
“True words indeed,” said Gandalf, before prodding at the fire with the end of his staff.
“How are those sausages looking Peregrin?” he asked, and his eyes twinkled when the hobbit immediately began to frantically turning the sausages to attempt to rescue them. Unfortunately, most were now distinctly burnt along one side. | 753b600409a1444489d820c5838339d5 | ['d50767d9ab0547dabe2b6b4366f0ef88'] | Kyle was scared now. Because it had only been funny when they had still had enough time to sort the whole dilemma. But now that they were out of time he just sort of wanted to cry if he was honest. Cry, then hide in his bunk on the tour bus until Dan eventually turned up. He walked slowly through the identical white painted hallways of the backstage area, listening sadly to the murmuring of the crowds that could be heard everywhere in the venue. They were in for such a disappointment. And so was Dan, he suddenly thought. Dan would never forgive himself. He’d be devastated and would probably manage to blame himself and only himself. Like he always did when gigs went wrong.
Kyle turned another corner, getting ever closer to the exit. But then his heart suddenly stopped and he froze.
Because there was Dan.
He was walking in a way that conveyed immense weariness, head down, hair a mess, clothes all wrinkled and he looked like he needed to sleep for about two days but to Kyle he had never looked more wonderful. Kyle sprinted towards him, arms and legs going everywhere but he couldn’t even bring himself to care because Dan was here. In Leeds. In the hallway. Not in Scotland. And the next thing Dan knew he was being embraced in a hug that made him feel like his ribs were slowly being pushed into his lungs.
“Kyle are you crying!?” He asked incredulously, trying to extract himself from the keyboard player’s iron grip. Kyle, as it turned out, was alarmingly strong.
“No,” came the muffled reply, before Kyle seemed to suddenly remember what exactly was going on and where they were. He hastily released Dan, to the singer’s obvious relief, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards where the others were, dashing an arm across his face to get rid of the tears of complete and utter relief.
“Come on, we have to be on stage in like five minutes,” He explained hastily while running full-pelt through the maze of corridors.
“What!?” Dan yelped back, trying to keep up in order to not lose his arm. “Kyle!” he yelled suddenly, “Stop! Just stop!”
Kyle halted and turned to see Dan looking at him with an expression of complete and utter bewilderment adorning his face. “Look, Kyle. I’ve taken two flights today, and the world’s longest taxi journey. And the driver was an embarrassingly huge fan of our music so I've listened to basically every song we’ve ever put out and to make it all worse, he didn’t recognise me. He kept asking me what I thought, what the fuck was I supposed to say!? And then I essentially had to pay him my soul and now I have to go on stage!?” Dan half-shouted, clearly somewhat frustrated at how his travelling experience had gone.
“Yes!” Kyle replied, completing ignoring everything Dan had said as he grabbed the singer’s arm, ignored Dan’s outraged squawks, and shoved him into the room where the other were sitting.
Everyone present reacted by staring at Dan with the sort of confusion usually directed only at extra-terrestrials. Then the room erupted into chaos. Woody jumped up and pulled Dan into a huge embrace, Dick gave him a stern look and a clap on the back before rushing off to alert the rest of the crew that the gig was going ahead after all, shouting back over his shoulder that they were on in less than five minutes. Meanwhile Will was staring at Dan like he wasn’t sure precisely if he was actually there or if he was just hallucinating.
“Right let’s go,” Kyle said, pulling Dan out of Woody’s arms and into a chair in front of a mirror and chucking a can of hairspray at him, which he barely caught.
“I hate all of you,” Dan murmured with very little menace before dousing his head in hairspray and attempting to get his hair to point in any direction other than straight up with very little success.
“Should have stayed in Scotland then,” Will quipped, resulting in Dan directing a large cloud of hairspray in his general direction.
9. The end
The gig wasn’t exactly what anyone would refer to as a roaring success.
Dan, despite his best efforts, looked as though he had gotten out of bed five minutes before the gig and then electrocuted himself.
The lack of soundcheck meant that somehow nothing but Dan’s microphone had been turned up to the correct volume, which made for a slightly awkward acapella opening and Woody being a beat or two behind for the majority of ‘Send Them Off!’
And because they hadn’t prepared a set list they ended up having to play along with whatever Dan was singing.
During Flaws Dan also managed to get stuck in the crowd because Dick and the rest of the security hadn’t realised Dan was doing Flaws until he had already vanished into the screaming masses because there was no set list from which to take guidance.
But they did it. They gave some semblance of a performance, performed most of the songs they were supposed to and didn’t get booed off the stage. And nothing went irreparably wrong.
They were all in a room backstage afterwards when Kyle suddenly realised someone was missing. A Dan shaped someone. His stomach practically fell out of his feet and he turned to Will in a state of panic.
“Dan!? Where’s Dan!?” he almost shouted. Will just laughed and pulled him into the next room and opened the door.
And there, on the sofa, curled up with what looked to be around six hoodies, was Dan.
Fast asleep.
* * *
_Two weeks later_ |
022743cb11074c018faf948457a8198a | ['d519f8ff16ca43929dc3126b6ce485ca'] |
Wild flowers in winter
**Author's Note:**
> English isn't my first language so be aware of any mistakes.
The clearing was filled to the brim with laughing people engaged in various activities typical for the summer festival. Geralt with difficulty squeezed his way through the rabble, limping every moment, stopped by a dancing procession or besieged by intrusive village girls. His shirt was sticking to his back unpleasantly, because the warmth of the night was intensified by bonfires shooting at the sky and warm bodies gathered in a clearing. He dreamt only of a pint of cold vodka and a quiet corner, in which he could drink it calmly, not bothered by anyone.
He came to Gulette for a short rest before continuing his expedition to Vengenberg, where he got an order for a wyvern prowling nearby the city. In the current situation, where his financial condition was more than fragile, he decided to rent a room in the inn of the industrial town of Guleta, guaranteeing a corresponding price. He knew very well that Vengenberg, which was monopolised by wizards, would not have bring such a luxury.
It was only when he came here that he realized that Belleteyn celebrations were taking place in the city. On the vast firm threshing floor, dozens of bonfires were burning, licking the starry sky with their flaming tongues. Hundreds of black silhouettes were moving between them, which, when illuminated, seemed to be flickering and airy like ghosts. There were also probably half a hundred different traders and merchants who offered various goods - from the common ones like bread with lard and pickled cucumber to the unusual ones like magic amulets and reliable aphrodisiacs. Moreover, the festival atmosphere attracted a lot of bards, singers, poets and other musicians hoping for a quick and lucrative income. Even if he didn't have a sensitive hearing, Geralt would easily catches the sound of the lute, the whining of the harmonics and the moaning squeal of the goose.
Finally, he spotted a slightly crooked stall with a striped canopy, which at first glance was the most besieged. He squeezed through a noisy group of young people, without saying a word, putting copper in front of a staller with a red nose. Its colour inevitably resulted from the fact that the stall was secretly consumed the alcoholic beverage.
He gained air and leaned to the bottom. Cold sowing was tearing his teeth apart, but that's what Geralt meant. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and showed Red Nose that he would drink one more quarters.
After the second dose even the crowd didn't disturb him anymore. The contours of the world blurred slightly, turning into a veritable blaze of colours and pulsating cacophony of sounds. He walked forward with no purpose, knowing that this state would not last long. After a while he reached a wooden scene set in the middle of the clearing.
\- And now, master Dandelion will perform!
At the sound of the words shouted from the platform, the crowd under the stage started to thicken, and the spectators who had been here earlier pushed forward. Geralt wanted to leave because he didn't want to listen to someone's groans too much, let alone give his last money to some street player. However, before he managed to withdraw, the crowd took on a wave like a tide, effectively immobilizing him. He cursed ugly under his nose, but was comforted by the thought that the effect of intoxication was not completely gone yet.
A young handsome blonde came onto the stage with grace, on whose view a large part of the audience gasped with admiration. Geralt thought that apart from the majority of female voices, he also heard a lot of male voices as well. The man, presented as Dandelion, was dressed in a loose linen tunic and held a lute in his right hand. Geralt did not know how to imagine a master of music, but what he had before his eyes certainly did not fit his imagination.
\- Hello, darlings! - The bard screamed, sitting on a stool. - Today I will give you a treat with the ballad „As Time Goes By”. I wish you pleasant listening.
With his slender fingers he took the griffin of the lute and pulled the strings with his right hand. Geralt did not know anything about music for a penny, but even he had to admit that the schmaltzy melody and the playing along with it harmonious voice filled with sweetness were worth listening to. The listened audience calmed down, looking at the master of musical magic with glittering eyes. Geralt thought that even the crickets and the tawny owls, knocking in the distance, were silent to listen.
When it was done, no one spoke until the sound of the last vibrating note. Everyone stood pensive under a dome of silent unity, which can only be obtained in such moments of sublime emotion.
Dandelion stood up and bowed low, almost touching his knees with his nose. His performance was lavishly rewarded with applause. People cheered in his honor and demanded an encore performance.
He threw the wreath at a crowd of squeaky girls who have been pushing under the stage. Geralt felt his shoes stumbled and elbows being stuck under his ribs. He turned around, but at the same time some hand pulled him by the scabbard. He rocked dangerously and then flopped hard on the ground. Now he saw dozens of pairs of eyes above him - in some there was grief, in some envy. He realized that this was due to a wreath of field flowers lying on his knees, in which poppies, cornflowers, chamomiles, but also dandelions were woven into them.
\- Who caught it, hm? - Dandelion jumped off the stage and the crowd immediately parted in front of him.
He went straight to Geralt, who managed to get up and stood there, holding the wreath in his hands. | 1bd104c80c00485c82e393c6061def9d | ['d519f8ff16ca43929dc3126b6ce485ca'] | Police dogs
Muranów District Police Station was such an icebox, Henryk Andrzejewicz was freezing his balls off despite wearing several layers of clothing. Sitting by his desk and tinkering with the heater, he was thoroughly irritated. It's not even November yet and this shithole already turned into an igloo. All he wished for was to get a few fingers of whiskey to warm himself up. The clock over the door read exactly 2 PM which meant that he would be free from the Dante nightmare in around two hours. Two more fucking hours in the fridge. He could be sitting in Kamski's morgue and it wouldn't be any different. Jesus fucking Christ, not even a decent heater?
"Not like there's anything around here," he mumbled aloud.
Working as a policeman in Poland honestly had to be the worst job to take, hands down. It was such an ungrateful muff, but someone had to do it; he himself had joined the militia back in the 80s, and did so voluntarily. He had never expected power or glory for it, and neither did he expect the promotion that came with disassembling one of the most threatening drug rings in the Mazowiecki region. He had been made junior grade of the district, or maybe even the whole region. He wasn't entirely sure. It was way back then when the world appeared to be much simpler than it was now. Being a policeman of the time also seemed easier and the salary was better; still, he gave it a benefit of doubt due to a different perspective. It had been twenty years ago after all and it was all battery, robberies, and even drug or car dealers.
Of course, people grew more complaisant over time. The post-communist country pursued the awe-some Western dream, and the police force turned virtually useless and became definitely disliked, so much even the force itself hated the job. Being a policeman now meant giving out tickets for speeding or for open air drinking. If Henryk was to be honest, and in their shoes, he wouldn't complain about cracking a little cold one in a park. The only thing he could do about the scenario was to turn a blind eye, much to his superior's, Fałkowski's, great dislike.
Henryk couldn't give two shits, though. It was just another inadequacy on his part, and his file was already bursting with reprimands and whatnot. Too many times was he warned about being disciplinarily terminated from the job, but he stayed, probably due to the lack of people in the force at the moment. He wasn't wholly surprised about the lack, mainly because of the negative public opinion. Maybe that was the reason he's never had a partner for longer than a week, about which he didn't really complain; he was too rude and stand-offish to become friends with anyone. He was much better at keeping people away, never being outgoing or sociable.
Because of that—which he bitterly admitted to himself—the only life companion he had ever made was his old, fat Bernardine adequately named Sumo. At the moment he hasn't really made any plans for the future aside from one: to send a complaint either to the administrator or the power station itself because the radiators not working drove him fucking nuts.
He was in the middle of spitting out another curse word when the overwhelming silence was broken by a loud static of his office's stationary phone. He glanced at the clock but the long hand has just landed on a bold 3. A quarter past 2 wasn't much but it still brought Henryk closer towards the end goal of leaving the decrepit walls of this place.
"What's up?"
"Andrzejewicz, in my office." It was Fałkowski.
He slammed the receiver down not even bothering to reply.
When he made his way to Fałkowski's office, he imagined all kinds of nightmare scenarios. He hadn't done anything seriously wrong in a while, so the boss couldn't possibly think of firing him. Unless Fałkowski thought about him some more and the further excusing Henryk's behaviour was about to be over.
"Present. What the-" he cut himself off at the sight of a young stranger standing at his superior's desk.
"This gentleman is to be your new partner for the case, starting today," said Fałkowski. "Henryk, meet Robert. Obviously, you will really get to know each other while you're working but it will happen soon, I bet. Henryk will provide you with all the necessary details so don't worry about a thing."
Andrzejewicz was just standing there, nonplussed but
trying to kill Fałkowski with his gaze only but no emotion was reciprocated. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to kill himself or him first. He should probably start with himself because Fałkowski would definitely murder him in cold blood if he knew that Henryk hasn't even browsed through the report of the said case. And they had been sitting in his drawer for like two days now.
"My name is Robert Konor, I'm an aspirant sent by the National Police Headquarters in Warsaw," the stranger declaimed. He was tense, as could be seen from his stiffly starched shirt and a perfectly tied tie. "Very pleased to meet you, officer. I hope our partnership will prove to be fruitful." |
fe417845e9d345c097e7c432362411ba | ['d53f12d616de4079bff5a8bb4fe1fb06'] | "I'm a guy and also I'm not a guy. Like, well-I'm fine with he pronouns but like I also want you guys to use they/them pronouns too! Like-there probably isn't a word for this in Korean but in English it's demi-boy, like 'half-boy' but not really. The point is can you guys use he and they pronouns?"
Though it wasn't much he felt like he had been holding in months of stress but when no one responded right away their stress came back.
"That's it? Like...You're not dying or anything right?" Jackson was the first one to speak.
"Y-Yeah..." Now it was Marks turn to be confused. Jackson didn't sound to concerned that Mark just came out.
"Oh thank god, I thought you were gunna say something like 'Guys I'm dying' or 'I'm leaving the group I miss In and Out.'"
"'In and Out?'" Bambam turned and asked Jackson.
"Yeah, he talks about it a lot."
"Jackson..." Jaebum chimed in.
"What? He does!"
"He does." Youngaje agreed.
"Do you guys.....not care?" Mark finally asked.
"Are you kidding? C'mon, Yugyeoms trangender, Youngjae uses they/them pronouns, Jb literally fucks guys and girls and Jinyoung and Bambam probably flirted with most of the male trainee's in all of JYP and on some days I'm a girl."
"He's right." Jaebum added.
"Hey!" Bambam raised his voice, "Not most at least a third!"
Jinyoung rolled his eyes, "Mark hyung, we don't care if you're using they/them and he/him pronouns now."
"Yeah," Youngjae smiled, "you probably came out to the safest and best set of people."
Mark still couldn't comprehend that they were all so accepting.
"So you guys like, don't care?" They had to ask again.
"No way."
"Not really."
"It's cool"
"Hmph."
"You interrupted my game so kinda but no bot really."
Jb patted Marks back and smiled "Mark we don't care what are all we care about is if you're okay."
Mark was still shocked. They were so open about everything and so cool about gender. His old friends back home would never have been like this.
"I think Mark needs a group hug so we can prove too him that we love him!" Jackson said teasingly.
"Ah, I think so too." Jinyoung added.
"Mark hyuuunng!" Yugyeoms smiled and opened his arms as he stood up. Soon everyone was on top of Mark giggling as they tried to wrestle themself free from the caring prison of arms and a strange misplaced leg.
After Mark was freed everything went back to normal and he found himself smiling at the fact and even giggling a little that he worked himself up so much just to have them all say "whatever." It was almost comical.
Later as days passed Mark realized they really were using he and they interchangeably. Each time he heard those words he would get a little giddy inside about the fact they were all so calm and loving about the whole situation and find himself smiling which usually resulted in Bambam saying "what."
He realized that though they were roommates, though they were bandmates, they were ultimately his family as well.
**Author's Note:**
> Give me some kind advice if you think something was off! If you just didn't like it just move on, no need for mean comments.
>
> (P.S the reaction is how actual gay ppl react to shit like this so if u've never really come out to gay ppl who are really open or are straight thats basically what happens) | 369acc6eb8044141830748e18929cc38 | ['d53f12d616de4079bff5a8bb4fe1fb06'] |
I Wanna Go
**Author's Note:**
> This is about living up to expectations fwi
> Basically Mark, Jaebum and Jackson where like perfect they got great grades and where obedient but one day Mark and Jaebum decided they're done with all the pressure and wild out. They party drink(no smoking to they like they're lungs) and basically are done with the stress while Jackson misses China and is feeling like his life his falling apart. All these events and emotions lead to this conversation one late night.
> (This was written on a phone so sorry if formations weird?)
_The Honor Roll Boys._
_Marks P.O.V_
It was dead silence. The type of silence that happens right after chaos happens and your processing everything that's happened.
Maybe that's what we were doing. Maybe we were processing what just happened in these few last months of high school. How Jaebum and I went from every parents dream to every parents worst nightmare. How Jackson went from most popular boy in school to crying in the bathroom stalls during lunch.
Jackson sat with his knees to his chest on the grass with his baseball cap covering almost all of his face. He wore a black tank top and basketball shorts. His whole outfit was black, most likely chosen by his subconscious symbolsing his emotional state. His duffle bag was thrown next to him. He had been on his way home from the gym before this meeting started.
Jaebum wore torn up jeans, a leather jacket, a shirt he probably stole from Yugyeom and an old pair of all black converse he cherished and wore everyday. Why they hadn't fallen of his feet from years or wear and tear beats me. He leaned on his hands with his legs spread looking at the grown. His freshly colored red hair already fading from him being so inexperienced with hair color. He looked as if he was contemplating so much.
I wore a plain black hoodie, torn up jeans and a pair of white Nikes to match my too-big tank top.
We all wore some type of black these days.
i looked around at where we were and the both of them. The setting was chilling. Three dead silent teenage boys in a circle with tension you could cut with a knife.
The tension handnt been from us it had been from what the subject of us all being here was.
Jaebum spoke first.
"What're we doing, Mark?"
I stayed silent and looked at the ground.
I hadn't know anymore. At first it was too lash out, now, it was too numb the pain.
"Yeah," Jackson spoke up,"what are you two doing?"
"Jackson c'mon-"
"No." Jackson cut him off.
"You guys haven't done anything to help yourselves." His voice started to shake. "You guys haven't done anything to help me..." Now he was crying. I knew Jaebums heart was as broken as mine now.
"Jacks..." he started again. "We didn't mean to leave you behind we just-"
"Just what? Didn't like the buzz-kill hangin' around? You guys were like me too! You guys knew I was just as sad as you!"
We had. And we didn't try to include him. That was a mistake.
"We didn't think you'd want to-"
"Go party? Go get laid? Drink? Hell yeah I would have, I wanted to let go to, I wanted to forget about school and sports and my parents potential disappointment looming over my head!" He kept cutting Jaebum off at this point but he was right. Jackson hated the idea of his parents being disappointed in him. They had worked to hard to have a son who didn't follow all of their expectations. His older brother did as he was told and had no qualms about it. Jackson? Jackson got sent to South Korea and ended up just being even more miserable. Not that his parents ever knew. No, no. Jackson wouldn't allow for his parents to know how much they're bourchure of colleges and fencing scholarship applications actually hurt him.
Jaebum and Jackson had the same dream. Music. They only difference is that Jaebum wasn't going to let himself be suffocated anymore, he was going to become a singer while Jackson was willing to drown.
Not because he was a coward or because he didn't have confidence, he just wasn't going to hurt his parents even though he might hurt himself.
"I don't want to be here anymore." I said, barley above a whisper.
"Me neither." Jackson whispered.
"Same here." Jaebum croaked. He was chocking up. So was I.
We giggled at our sniffles and how we all had to wipe away some sort of tear. We needed a laugh even if it was small.
"I'm sorry we didn't help you more." Jaebum stated he was now sitting a little slumped with his hands in his spread lap.
"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry." I added.
"It's okay. I get" he answered.
"We need to stop this." Jaebum finally said something again.
"Hm?" I hummed.
"This. We need to stop fucking sitting here and dealing with our emotions by ourselves and lasting out. We need to go away from here."
He was right. None of us wanted to be here anymore. This small town full of judging eyes was too much. I wanted to go back to America, I wanted to see the states, drive all night and sleep all day. I wanted to go somewhere where being quiet wasn't so bad. Jaebum just wanted out. Jackson wanted to go back to his family and tell them how he really felt.
"Everyone expects so much from us...what if u don't want to do things they look forward too.." Jackson said voice low.
"I just wanted to finally do something different with my life." I said. This startled Jaebum and Jackson since I was always so quiet, their face did rest though after a few seconds. |
0ec20c860c2943338486d5d41d2ef06f | ['d588e0f249d440bf8e5709d32c7b4bea'] | Piper looked up at the ceiling but didn’t see it. She was looking at the rusted catwalk, the Mirelurk Queen, and the sparks from the bullets that popped it loose. Her moment of glory. She had saved Nora. That was when, instead of gloating, she should have swept the woman up in her arms and carried her off into the sunset.
The lighter flicked open, then closed. Open. Closed. This was all her fault. She had gotten Nora hurt.
Open. Closed. She had gotten Liza killed.
No. It was worse. She had killed Liza with her bare hands. After the woman had saved her life, tried to help her the only way she knew how, and Piper killed her. Liza had done more than saved her life, she had saved her from being tormented by a dozen men. Even if Piper had left alive, she would have left different. Broken.
And Nora. If they had done the same thing to Nora, she…
Open. Closed.
Liza saved her and Piper had stabbed her in the back. She had watched her die, felt her die. She didn’t deserve to be here.
Open.
Piper stared at the lighter that wouldn’t close. There was another hand wrapped around hers. Piper’s fingers refused to move. They were not being held back or restrained, but they just wouldn’t move. Not while they were being touched.
Not while Nora was holding them. “Piper?”
Her voice was so careful, like anything louder would scare Piper away. Or shatter her completely. Piper looked up and tried to say something. Nothing came out. She couldn’t even smile.
“Hey,” Nora settled down onto the couch beside Piper, her hands still on the lighter. “It’s okay if you want to talk.”
Piper was trying but the words just didn’t want to come out. She didn’t even know what she would say. Instead she just went back to looking at the lighter.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Nora, surely. And Liza.
Nora moved one hand to Piper’s shoulder, keeping her other on the lighter. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
She wanted to believe that. “I fucked up, Blue. I left you out there alone and… And then… Liza…”
Piper brushed angrily at the tears as Nora tried to soothe her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried to save me. You did save me. Twice. Piper, you did everything right.”
“I should have saved her,” Piper muttered, squeezing the lighter angrily. This was ridiculous. She shouldn’t be crying.
“Who?”
“The Raider,” she said, hefting the little piece of metal like it was supposed to explain everything. “Liza. She tried to help me and I killed her. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to find you. I tried to save her, I swear. I came so fucking close.”
Nora did not pull her, did not pry for more. She never did. It didn’t matter who Piper was trying to save, just that Piper was trying to save them. The idiot would probably trust a Deathclaw if Piper told her to.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked softly. Piper knew from her voice that it wasn’t because she wanted the story. She just wanted her to be okay.
Piper nodded slowly. “I tried to help. I heard Raiders in the street and I thought maybe I could draw them away. One of them saw me. He hit me and put a knife to my throat. They kept asking me where you were. I never told them, I swear.”
“I know,” Nora soothed. Her grip had gotten stronger, more protective.
“They took me back to that building. They were going to... they wanted to rape me.”
Nora growled and bared her teeth but Piper cut her off. “I didn’t care about that. They would have done the same thing to you,” Piper shuffled and flicked the lighter closed again. “And better me than you.”
The silence that followed was deafening. It was how Piper felt, honestly. She had been through so much. Nora hadn’t. As much as she liked to play the hero, she hadn’t grown up here. She hadn’t been forced to go through all the things Piper had been made to endure. Where Nora had grown up, something like this would have been unthinkable. Unbearable.
But for Piper, this was just the way it was. She could handle it. Nora was too sweet, too innocent to have to go through that.
“They took me to a room in the back,” Piper mumbled. “But before they could do anything, Liza stopped them. She told them she’d warm me up for them and closed the door.” Open. Closed. “She saved my life.”
Nora made a noise that sounded like sympathy. A noise Piper didn’t deserve.
“She started smoking,” Piper laughed. “Like she was just out for a fucking walk. This was all just a normal day for her. She started talking to me. She told me I could still walk away from this if I just played along and let them do what they wanted to me.”
Open. “I tried to get her to come with me. She told me they had done the same thing to her and I thought she’d want to come with me. With us. She didn’t deserve to be there.”
Closed. “I killed her, Nora.”
Piper stared at the lighter without really seeing it. She was looking at Liza, slumped in the corner. Maybe Piper should have just laid back and closed her eyes. No one would be dead. Everyone would have gone on living.
“I should have said something,” Piper mumbled. “I just couldn’t think of anything. I should have saved her.”
Suddenly she was back in Publick Occurrences, her eyes fixed on Nora’s in panic. “And you. I left you. I let them take you.” | 36b1f0d200f64e59be64cd498da30e7c | ['d588e0f249d440bf8e5709d32c7b4bea'] | Eira did not answer. Under the judgmental eye of Serana’s mother, Eira released her arrow, watching as it arced lazily over the arena and toward the far wall. Serana skidded to a halt behind one of the pillars. Her mother scoffed. Eira waited. Just as the black blur was passing over the far wall, something else rose up to meet it. Eira savored the moment as the dragon soared over the far wall, wings spread wide, mouth agape. The arena shook with a roar beyond anything heard in Skyrim or the lands beyond.
Now Eira answered. “Because I helped your daughter kill one.”
21. One Good Parent
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Eira and Serana battle their second dragon
Eira’s arrow found its mark. As Serana found shelter, her mother cursed and scampered down to join her, all semblance of regal dignity forgotten. Eira tried to savor the moment as the dragon shuddered violently, struck in the neck by Eira’s shot. It would have been easier if the monster had not kept right on coming, thoroughly angry and intent on seeking its revenge. She barely had enough time to follow Serana down to the arena, skidding behind the same pillar before fire washed over them.
Like everything else in this miserable world, the fire was a demented shade of purple and its flames burned piercingly cold. Even as they broke around the pillar, spilling out to either side in blinding streams, she could feel the chill rushing over her. All that was natural and instinctive in her wanted to get up and run screaming out of the arena. The rest of her wanted to grab Serana by the collar, then run screaming out of the arena.
The dragon roared as it passed overhead, vanishing from sight as it crossed the wall. Eira could hear its wings beating as it came around for another pass at them. Serana was already up and moving for better cover. Eira found herself a spot nearby and readied another arrow. If she was going to be taking shots at this thing, she did not want Serana getting caught in the blast that killed her. This was the one time she could not pull EIra’s ass out of the fire and it was damn sure not going to be the time EIra let her down.
Another blast of violet fire shot over the wall, splattering against the ground in front of Eira. The flames leapt close enough to send her scurrying away, ruining her shot as the dragon came into view. It seemed intent to freeze – it was freeze right? Freeze in cold fire? In any case, it wanted them dead before getting dirt on its claws and whatever it was spitting all over the arena was bound to do the job. Eira tried to line up another shot as it passed from view. She growled as she set the arrow to her cheek. This whole place was full of things she did not know how to kill. If it got on the ground, sure, she could just lob Vengeance at it and hope it stuck, but until then, it was mortal arrows against an immortal beast. She found herself unimpressed with the odds.
Serana’s mother agreed. As the beast came around again, Eira caught sight of her breaking cover and running out into the open. Just as the dragon passed overhead and Eira loosed her shot, she threw her arms wide. Eira felt the air crackle and had just enough time to raise an eyebrow before a sudden gust of wind beat her into the dirt. She did not even see if her arrow hit. Of course, as she picked herself up off the ground and craned her neck to the sky, she was fairly certain that it did not matter.
The dragon no longer flew overhead but spun end over end like a dog chasing its tail. She could hear it screaming in frustration even from down here. Whatever Serana’s mother was doing, at the very least she was pissing it off. Now nothing more than a leaf caught in a gale, the dragon began spiraling upward. The clouds had begun to swirl with the winds. Soon they began to form a funnel that crackled with brilliant streaks of lightning as it moved to engulf the arena. Eira could not suppress the feeling of sheer panic that came with seeing something this powerful, something so all-consuming and completely beyond the grasp of mortal powers. The dragon howled and raged and thrashed in vain as the winds carried it into the mouth of the storm.
The sky shattered. Thousands of bolts crisscrossed the clouds, all bursting forth at once and all passing through the same, unhappy creature caught in the maelstrom. Eira could not even watch, the image of the sky shattering like glass now seared into her brain. She found herself staggering, covering her eyes with one hand and trying to heal the damage that had been done to them. That was when the thunder came. In a moment, all sound vanished, replaced by an ear-splitting crash that seemed to drive iron spikes right through her ears. Eira found herself crouching in the dirt, eyes closed, hands over her ears in agony as she tried to drown out the noise. For hours she must have stayed this way, holding her head to keep it from splitting open.
When it finally stopped, it took several moments for Eira to rise from her stupor. Her ears rang and her eyes were still etched with bolts of lightning but she was determined not to cower a moment longer. Again she looked toward the sky. She was just in time to see the smoking corpse of the beast come crashing to the ground, landing with a sickening crack right in the center of the arena. Eira felt like going over and poking it to make sure – |
b78ce524f30344ceb5125c4544779b71 | ['d5a56b4b3a6c43e98f7190487db97570'] | “I want you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because a bomb is about to be dropped on your life and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. Its fact…..and a warning.”
“What do you want in return?”
He leaned in slightly as he attempted to catch my gaze.
“I want to protect you and your family.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
He gave me a long look as he leaned back in his chair. Realization washed over me.
“You want information.” I state
“We’ve been building a case for some years now. Ganya is well known for what he does. I’ve been studying him. I know a lot about him.”
I knew Dimitri would be so pleased knowing he was right.
“You know nothing of Ganya and his capabilities.” I say, brushing away a strand of hair and pretending not to wince from my still tender scalp.
“I know enough. I know you didn’t exactly choose to have your store taken over by gang members.”
“No, but they take care of us.”
“They don’t kill you. How kind.”
I couldn't help but smile at his sarcasm.
“Listen, I don’t know everything, as much as you like to think I pretend to.” He continued “I know that this is your family and that means a lot to you.”
“Family is everything.”
“I know. I know and I really respect that. But I have to ask….how great is family when all it does is hurt you?”
“Why are you so fixated on someone hurting me? What do you know?”
“I can’t tell you exactly.”
“Why?”
“Its protocol”
“To hell with it!”
“It doesn’t work that way!”
I let out a frustrated groan as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Ok.” I said evenly “I…I will ask questions. You answer or you tell me to fuck off.”
“Seriously?”
“You do the same. We take turn.”
“Fine.”
“Did you arrest Ivan?”
“Yes. Did you really come alone?”
“Yes. Will there be more arrests?”
“Yes. Are you working for Ganya?”
“…….Fuck off.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Do you feel safe going home?”
“Yes. Will my husband be arrested?”
“Fuck off. Have you ever hidden anything for Ganya?”
“No. Are you close to arresting Ganya?”
“Closer than before. Do you know Ganya’s next move?”
“No one knows Ganya’s next move.” I snorted
“Is there a way you can find out?” Eddie asked leaning in. “Could you if I helped you?”
It was then I finally noticed the odd way he would lurch his body towards me when asking a probing question. I leaned back in my chair. My heart sank.
I admit I looked forward to Eddies arrivals at our store. I tried to think of questions to ask him about when he stepped to the counter. He was a friendly face. A confidant. When he asked how I was doing it seemed he really wanted to know. That had been a luxury I had been denied when I left my home country.
“Is the table bugged or is it on you?”
He froze.
“Fuck off.” He said softly
“That sounds like a yes”
My eyes prickled with tears. His did as well.
“You brought me to the ambulance, held my hand, visited me at the hospital. You know more about my sons than my husband does. You told me stories about your failed dates and your mother teaching you how to dance. You showed me Aretha Franklin.” I paused “Was it all for…..this….this case? For Ganya?”
A silence settled over us and it looked as though Eddie desperately wanted to say no. He just looked at me, slightly opening his mouth and then closing it.
America was a dream. A dream filled with an abundance of food and education. A dream where we could be free of a watchful eye. I could laugh easily and love freely. My home would be completely mine. I would owe nothing and own everything. I lied for this dream. I bled for this dream. I cried for this dream. Every day I’m realizing exactly what I feared, it was exactly what it was, a dream. Just a dream.
“I thought there would be freedom here” I croaked
With that I stood and exited his house as quickly as possible, ignoring Eddies pleas to stay and talk.
In a period of twelve hours I had been attacked, lied to and taken advantage of. That would have been a perfect time to breakdown and lose all sense of hope. It was then I realized that I couldn’t rely on the world around me to create the freedom I dreamt of. I knew I had to crawl in the dirt to make a freedom of my own. I changed course, dried my eyes and straightened my shoulder. I arrived at my destination with a new resolve.
I knocked on the door twice.
The door cracked.
“A nice day for some fish.” I stated
The door opened and I entered a foyer of lounging goons. They stood in surprise.
“What can we do for you, Little Bird?” A gruff looking goon leered by the doorway
“I wish to speak to Ganya….alone.”
I thought there would be freedom here.
9. Give Me A Name
I entered into the living room without asking, more beer bottles, more body odor, more baritone laughter. Their sound would fade away when I entered the room. Then those smiles. Sickingly sweet. Disgustingly smug.
“What are you doing walking into a den of the deplorable hmmm?” A goon asked as he approached me.
His breath reeked of a distillery and ego.
“Is Ganya here?” I asked
The room erupted in laughter. I fought to not roll my eyes.
“He’s busy.” Another called from across the room “But we can keep you busy.”
A few whistled. Placing a hand on my hip I gave him a once over.
“You can keep me busy?” I asked suggestively
“Oh yes.” | ea8be47356d24c279677ebfad3fc7363 | ['d5a56b4b3a6c43e98f7190487db97570'] | My fingers glided up from her collar to her neck to her jawline where I lightly griped. The room was lit only in moonlight. Her pale skin made her appear all the more alluring. Her icy blue eyes flashed up at me. My thumb brushed against her thin lips as once more it smeared her lipstick. My other hand snaked to the small of her back and pulled her close. As her body pressed against mine I kissed her with kiss was slow. We managed to stumble our way to the desk where I propped her up upon.
When our lips parted I smiled down at her as I positioned myself between her legs. Her hand gently glided from my navel to my crotch. My breath hitched.
"Imagine it Katie" I moaned "All this could be yours. You, The Captain."
She unzips my pants and quickly tugs them down.
"You, The Commodore."
I tug down my undergarments and happily reveal her immediate effect on me. Icy orbs glare up at me. She spat in her hand and wrapped her delicate fingers around my length. She was never shy. It had been a couple years since we had met in that particular type of manner but she was always unapologetic and willing to offer her favors for a favor of my own. She was nothing like my wife. She was never meek, especially in the bedroom. She understood the sacrifices she had to make for her career and for Starfleet. Let me be clear, I was aware I was using her and she was as well. But the moment she accepted my invitation she was using me. I was completely hers. She had to know I was completely and helplessly hers.
"You…The Rear Admiral."
She pumped me slow, with calculated practice. She knew how to listen to my reactions and play me like a fiddle.
"Yo…you…The Vice Admiral."
It had been so long since I had been touched. I was embarrassed by how close I already was. I buried my nose into the crook of her neck. I allowed her scent to pump through my veins like heroine. My hand slipped underneath her dress caressed her breast. I nearly begged for mercy when she arched into me and emitted a soft gasp. I tried to continue to speak but my words were chocked out by moans.
She quickened the pace. My hips gyrated against her to touch. She wrapped her legs around me and I could make believe I was already inside her.
"Say it Owen" she moaned softly "Say how far I'll go"
I yelped and growled. She continued to stroke, only stopping to add more spit.
"Will you fuck me to Vice Admiral?"
I whimper as I picture the visions she was painting for me with her breathy, husky vibrato.
"Will you fuck me to Fleet?"
I beg
"Will the Academy rebrand in my name if I let you bend me over this desk?"
I quake.
"If you take me from behind and I moan your name over the comm lines will they name me an honorary founder of Starfleet?"
I'm on the precipice of release and that's when she stopped and unwound her legs from around me.
I stood before her trembling, painfully engorged and my mind high on Kathryn.
"Wha…whyyy?" I whined like a child denied candy. I needed her. I needed the release.
She leaned back to look at me. Her dress wrinkled and undone. Her breast peaking out behind the blue fabric. Her lipstick smeared. Her legs open with no apology. She looked like a beginning chapter of an erotic holonovel. But her face, her smile told a different story.
"Kathryn?" I implored weakly.
She smiled crookedly before reaching into her pocket and producing a shiny black box. With one press of a button and the box sprung open to produce the evidence of a shiny gold pip. I gaped stupidly.
"They presented this to me this morning. Naturally, they wanted to inform you as my mentor but I asked if I could tell you myself…"
She paused to lightly trace the underside of my penis with the pad of her finger, I hissed as a volt of electricity shot through me.
"…in person. We have developed such a close bond over the years."
She cocked her head to the side and raised on eyebrow. She raised her leg slightly and I glanced down to realize she had worn no undergarments. I moaned weakly.
"You betrayed me" I croaked
"No Owen. I proved myself. I didn't even have to take off my clothes. They just thought I was that good…at my job."
Shame and anger and lust came to me in waves.
She arched her back, accentuating every inch of her. I remained frozen.
"It's ok baby look all you want. Take it in. You are looking at the Captain of The Federation Starship USS Voyager and you will never get to touch her again."
"Kathryn…Kathryn I'm sorry…I" I stammer and close my eyes to find my words
When I open my eyes she has stood up and readjusting her clothing.
"I never questioned your ability…" I attempted
"Oh Im sure you didn't" she shot back with venom in her voice "Im sure when you eyed me in your class room you thought of how smart I was. I bet when you found me drunk in that bar after my father died you thought of my need for council" tears twinkled in her eyes "Thats why you brought me to that hotel room that night right? For council!? I bet as each promotion loomed my way it was my career you thought about when you call me to you!"
She turned to walk out when I grabbed her by the arm.
"Katie you know I care about you" I pleaded "You wanted this too! You wouldn't come back all these years if you didn't."
She paused not looking back at me. |
d5eb4d1f9cad48979b1e04cb5228aa5b | ['d5b87935600142378644de81a9359b7c'] | He still had periodic bouts of worrying over whether or not he should be staying in Ealdor, but those bouts became less frequent as the Solstice came closer. Kilgharrah had even settled into a nice routine. He told Balinor the forest provided a nice rest from the court maneuvering and politics he’d dealt with for the last few years. Besides, it was well-covered enough that he could take off when he wanted to and just travel a bit, knowing that Balinor was staying in one place.
Of course, getting more settled in the village didn’t necessarily mean all stress was gone from his life. On the contrary, as he got closer to the Solstice, he found himself trying to figure out just how to ask Hunith to marry him. He knew she’d say yes, but he just had no clue how to ask her.
The few times he asked Michael, or even Kit on his rare times home, how he should do it, they just laughed at him. The most humiliating time was when he’d gotten drunk in Michael’s tavern and barely remembered what happened the night before. His only real memory was of Simmons whapping him upside the head and telling him to ‘just ask the bloody woman already’.
Now it was a week before Solstice and he still hadn’t plucked up the nerve to do it. He slept with her nightly. He helped her do the laundry. He tried to help her with the plot. She had held his head the morning after his drunken revelries. She was his mate. She was the love of his life and he’d never deny it. So why was he, a Dragonlord, a warrior as powerful as any knight, a nobleman who had been richer than the entirety of ten Ealdors before Uther went off his rocker.
The two of them worked silently to prepare their breakfast. Hunith glanced up at him every so often, just small looks, but not nearly covert enough for him to miss. He knew he did the same. When they sat down to eat their meals, he was still quiet.
Hunith sighed when they were halfway through and put down her spoon. “I can’t do this, Balinor.”
“What?” Balinor’s heart stopped. Did Hunith no longer want to be with him? Had he waited too long and lost his true love to his dithering?
Hunith grinned, the mischievous smile that flipped his heart over, “I’m done waiting for you to ask me, so I’m going to ask you. Will you marry me, Balinor?”
Balinor was pretty sure he did a credible imitation of a landed fish for a few seconds before he met her grin with his own. “I was going to ask you, you know.”
“I know, but if I waited for you to do it, we’d be welcoming our grandchildren before you finally got around to it.”
Balinor could only laugh. “Yes, Hunith. I would be honored to be your husband. And father to any children we might be blessed with.” He reached over and held her hand, “So, how does the Solstice sound?”
“It sounds marvelous.” She squeezed his hand.
***
That night in the tavern, a close observation of the people attending the impromptu celebration of Hunith and Balinor’s betrothal would have caught Michael discreetly turning over a few coins to Kit once the details of the proposal came out.
**Author's Note:**
> Merlin belongs to Shine and the BBC.
>
> Yes, this is a canon divergence. I've got an inkling as to how I'll go from here, but I won't add to this series for a while thanks to my other projects. | 4dce4da21d424435856b807955377332 | ['d5b87935600142378644de81a9359b7c'] |
Love is Chaos
**Author's Note:**
> Havard is one of the original characters I use in my Dragons and Knights series a lot. I just like him and I saw him and George together from the first time I wrote him. I hope you like my stoic guard, too.
“This place is mad.” Havard muttered that into a mug of ale. He was sitting at a table in The Frozen Ferret, the tavern that most guards ended up visiting after their shifts were over. The knights had claimed The Rising Sun. The criminals the guards arrested had The Dragon’s Dilemma, although it could be argued that the meat pies were the best at the Dilemma and almost worth going in there just to order them. Some of the guards and knights actually paid to have them delivered to the armory and guard house.
The guard sitting next to him, Nick, just chuckled. “Heard you had guard duty on the stocks today. Jack was in there, right?”
“You know him?” Havard looked up from the mug.
Nick grinned. “Oh, yes. He grew up with my youngest brother. They’re best mates. I’m actually surprised the two of them weren’t in there together. Usually that’s the case.” He took a drink from his own mug, finishing it off. “I’m going for another. You want one? I’ll cover this round.”
Havard nodded and thanked him. Nick had been acting a bit like a mentor for him, even if he was technically younger than Havard by about five years. Havard hadn’t gotten used to the informality of the capital of the kingdom of Camelot. He was used to kingdoms where the line between noble and commoner was never blurred. Here the commoners actually had a chance of becoming knights and, by extension, noblemen in their own right, even if they were generally landless. The king’s personal servant actually came into the guard house and chatted with a few of the guards. Those guards, in turn, had told Havard about the number of times they had actually arrested the man or put him in the stocks.
Havard stuck by his assessment that this place was mad.
When Nick sat down again, he placed the mug of ale in front of the confused man and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too hard about it. You’ll hurt yourself trying to figure this place out.”
“How do you deal with it? The people not in their proper places in life?”
Nick waved his arms a bit, the liquid sloshing in the mug as he gestured around the tavern. “We’re all used to it. Besides, you should have lived here when Uther was king. Everyone was afraid of everyone else and everything. We had sorcerers attacking us constantly because the king had declared magic anathema. The nobility kept getting further and further from us common folk. Under the old king, we had protections, yes, but they were scant and could be reversed at any time. King Arthur makes sure that we are, for the most part, fed and sheltered. He promotes intelligence and hard work, not just bloodlines. I think at least two of the guards are on their way to becoming knights. Real knights.”
“I guess I’m just not used to it. I don’t know if I will be or can be.” Havard took a large gulp of his ale while Nick looked on him with sympathy.
“Camelot’s not for everyone, Havard. If you sincerely think you can’t take it, there are the outposts . We man those, along with the knights. Being a city guard is fine, but you can transfer to one of the outposts.” He took a drink of his own. “I hope you give the city a try, though. The outposts can get awfully boring, depending on who else is assigned to them.”
@@@
Havard started to regret his promise to Nick to actually give the city a try when he was called to The Dilemma to retrieve one of their regulars for time to be spent on one of the punishment details after he’d stolen a few things from the market. The guard and the bailiff all knew where he’d be. They just hoped he wouldn’t have all of his cronies surrounding him when they went in for him. Unfortunately, this time he did. It had been a cracking good fight and two of the guardsman ended up having to go to Gaius, the Court Physician. They probably could have patched themselves up, but the Guard Captain liked to keep his men at their best health.
Havard helped a guard he only knew by Big John up the too many steps to the physician’s chambers. Why there were that many steps going up to the chambers of the man who helped injured people, Havard decided he’d never understand, chalking it up to one of the many mysteries of Camelot that would probably plague him his entire time here. Big John had been hit over the head with a cudgel and only accepted help from the smaller Havard when standing brought on a bout of dizziness and the admission that he saw three of everything.
The physician was an older man who looked like a good stiff wind from Havard’s old home on the coast would knock him right down. He certainly didn’t look as if he had the strength to maneuver the much larger guard to where he needed him to attend his health, but he managed it. Gaius turned and spoke to the young man who had taken the place of his former apprentice. “I’ll need the helichrysum and lavender in an oil, and boil some water for some rose hip and blackberry tisane.”
“Yes, Gaius. And for Guardsman Timothy? The same oil?” |
960bcbb1dd1740e285eeeea25a9dae07 | ['d5c36cbd9c49484fbc289481ede2c026'] | Shut Me Up
"-and I know it's probably a shock, I'm not expecting you to reciprocate or anything but I really needed to get this out-" Keefe paced the small room. His speech was so winding and repetitive that Tam was having a little difficulty following. The gist of it was clear, yet hard for him to comprehend.
"If you do like me back that's great! But I'm not trying to force you or anything-" after two years of seemingly hopeless pining, here he was, sitting on his bed and watching the guy of his dreams have a miniature mental breakdown while confessing his attraction.
As Keefe continued to ramble, obstinately avoiding Tam's gaze, the dark haired boy took a moment to wonder;
_"Why did I have to choose this one?"_
After a few minutes that felt like hours (hours that Tam could have lived forever) the warmth in his chest felt like it was going to explode and Tam decided that enough was enough.
He stood and crossed the room to where Keefe was, the blond boy was too preoccupied to notice that Tam had moved at all. He stopped abruptly when Tam's hand landed on his arm, reassuring and firm. Tam couldn't help but smirk at the expression on Keefe's face, he'd heard Sophie describe it with a human term once, 'deer in the headlights' he believed. It certainly fit.
"You talk too much." His tone betrayed his own inner turmoil, not quite as matter-of-fact as he hoped. There was a beat of silence.
"What do you suggest I do instead?" Ice blue eyes spared a significant glance down towards Tam’s mouth. There he was, the overconfident idiot Tam had fallen for, he'd almost begun to worry.
"I might have an idea." He shrugged, they had both begun to lean closer, Tam pushing onto his toes so they could be nose to nose.
Neither of them wasted any more words, their mouths crashed into each other, Tams hands sliding to the base of Keefes neck, pulling him closer. Keefe cupped the shorter boys cheek as they continued to kiss.
There were no fireworks, just a dazzling warmth and softness, and an intense knowledge that this was so very right.
They pulled apart after a short time, beaming at one another. A shadow of something began to settle on Keefe's face and Tam's stomach dropped.
"Do I really talk too much?" Is all he said, Tam sighed in relief, and mild exasperation (the endeared kind of course).
"Absolutely," Tam smirked, "But I like that about you."
The corners of Keefe's eyes crinkled as his smile returned. They laughed and pulled each other close once more.
\--
They arrived 30 minutes late to the meeting Keefe was originally supposed to invite Tam to, before he had decided to spill his guts that is. It only took a moment for their friends to notice their still kiss-swollen lips and intertwined hands.
"You seriously couldn't have waited another week." Fitz groused from the couch, where he sat with his arm around Dex, "Alright, who had this week?" He looked around at the group, Linh's hand shot up.
"That's two months of ripplefluffs, all for me." She chirped with a smug grin.
"Hold up a second! You guys bet on us?" Keefe cried incredulously, earning sheepish shrugs from those around him.
Tam simply chuckled and pulled Keefe in for a silencing kiss.
**Author's Note:**
> It's quite short I know, but the idea came to me while listening to 'Talk Too Much' by COIN and I had to write it. | 7a076a1b56b744d99beaf48223671f8c | ['d5c36cbd9c49484fbc289481ede2c026'] | Fitz shut down at that question, his face going blank. Biana knew immediately that he was hiding something. His only tell being the pink blush fanning over his cheeks. He mumbled some excuse about needing to get ready and picked the child up off the ground.
“You and Mr. Snuggles will keep me safe from your mommies right, O?” He asked, giving Orem a kiss on the forehead. Orem yelped something unintelligible and gleeful as they disappeared into the washroom.
“So, if he’s not going to tell us…” Marella trailed off, side eyeing her wife with a conspiring expression.
“You check the kitchen and I’ll check the bedroom?” Biana offered.
\---
“You got him flowers!” Orem stared wide eyed at the door his parents had just thrown open. Thankfully he hadn’t started crying.
“What have I told you about snooping through my house!” Fitz yelled back. His tux finally on properly and his hands in his hair attempting to smooth it out. “You didn’t even wait 5 minutes!”
“You’re the one who left them on the counter, with a note, where anyone can see it.” Marella pointed out calmly.
“I didn’t think I needed to hide it, I was going to leave it before you guys got here!” He defended while finally turning from the mirror to face them, red in the face.
“You, dear brother, are so far gone. Just ask him out already!” Biana exclaimed, gesturing at the bouquet in Marella’s hand.
Fitz rolled his eyes, “I’m not asking him out, okay Biana? No matter how much you want me to!”
Biana moved to protest but Fitzes glare pushed the words back into her mouth. Marella placed her hand on her wife's arm.
“At least leave it at his door when we leave for your parents. It’s only fair.” Marella said, Fitz didn’t grace it with a reply.
Ten minutes later they all stood at the door, Biana with Orem in arm and Fitz with the bouquet and note clutched in his fist. He planned on dropping it at the door on their way to the garage. To his surprise though, the hallway was far from empty. In front of Dex’s door, stood the man himself squabbling with 3 people who looked a few years younger.
Fitz slowly started to back up.
“He looks busy, I’ll just - uh - do it tomorrow.” He stuttered.
“Oh no you don’t.” Biana pushed him forward. He nearly bowled over one of the four, the only girl in the group. They all looked similar, obviously related, yet Dex still stood out. His hair a couple shades lighter than the dark auburn of his relatives and his eyes were a beautiful mix of blue and purple, one that Fitz had never imagined seeing.
It took a moment for him to realize that he was standing and staring like a dumb fool. Everyone was looking at him and the bouquet in his hand. That reminded him, the bouquet, the bouquet for Dex.
“Uh…” he struggled to find words for a moment. “Happy Thanksgiving!” he finally burst out, thrusting the bouquet into the hand of a bewildered Dex before hurrying down the hall, not even bothering with the elevator and running down the stairs.
\---
Dex watched Fitz disappear down the hall, completely dumbfounded and sure that his face looked like it was on fire. He barely registered the two women leaving behind Fitz, too caught up in how incredibly attractive the taller man had looked in that tux.
When the world came back into focus a moment later all he could hear was his siblings snickering.
“You finally got yourself a boyfriend, Dex?” Bex giggled, “Be careful, I think you’re drooling.’
“Shut up.” He grumbled, pushing them into his apartment.
It took 15 minutes for the rest of the family to arrive, and he naively thought it would stop the incessant prodding from the triplets.
“Why couldn’t we have done this somewhere else? There’s no room anywhere!” He cried, looking around at his parents, his aunt and uncle, their daughter Sophie, and her boyfriend Keefe, the latter who was puttering around the kitchen as the unlucky chosen meal cooker.
“Just be glad my side of the family isn’t here.” Kesler winked, Dex shuddered at the thought of having his 5 other uncles and aunts and their demonic offspring here to invade his privacy.
“We didn’t want you to have anywhere to escape to.” His cousin, Sophie, added with a grin.
“We just want you to be happy, Dex.” Juline, his mother, said laying a hand on his shoulder placatingly.
“So you staged an elaborate intervention on a holiday to force me to get a date, all because I’ve been single for a measly two years.” Dex deadpanned, looking around at the people seated at his kitchen table.
“Yeah, but it turns out it’s not necessary, you’ve found someone to get down and dirty with all on your own.” Keefe called from the stove. The triplets howled with laughter at the comment.
“Keefe!” Grady admonished, Keefe just guffawed and continued scurrying around the kitchen.
Dex banged his head on the table with a groan.
He was able to make it through the meal with minimal mental strain, thankfully. He had suffered through the agony of the triplets explaining every detail of his earlier encounter with Fitz. It only took a couple minutes after the food arrived for everyone to stop pestering about the Mystery Man’s name. Though the suspicious glances from Keefe were somewhat unsettling he had to admit.
After dinner, people started to trickle out until only Sophie, Keefe, and Sophie's parents were left. |
c50e2d259f4648d2a07b27a54b49b66e | ['d5ce22f87f40416da13b899b03b27875'] | Her hands slid up from his ass, up his back to fist in his hair, painfully yanking his head back from her neck so that he was face to face with her. He made the same shameful sound he made when she first bit his neck in the training room. His sight went fuzzy for a moment before refocusing, her black stare filling his vision. She pulled his head closer until their foreheads were touching, never breaking eye contact. Staring in her eyes gave him the sensation of falling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have time to figure out if he liked it or not before she licked his lips making him flinch back in surprise. She pulled his mouth back to her with surprising but should have been unsurprising strength.
"Harder." she rasped against his lips, "Fuck me harder."
He fucking lost it.
He growled as the last of his restraint was destroyed. He slid his hands underneath her back to grip her shoulder blades for leverage, his fingers digging into her skin, and proceeded to pound into her.
"Fuck!" she screamed out, her hands tightening in his hair. _Why does that feel so fucking good?_ Her walls clenched and unclenched around him making him shudder. He watched her face as pain and pleasure chased back and forth across it with each of his desperate thrusts. He wanted to slow down for her now that he knew this was her first time but it was impossible. He couldn't stop if he wanted to. He bottomed out in her with with each push of his hips, her slick dripping down his shaft, over his balls, onto the bed.
"I love how wet you get for me. Wanna drown in you." he muttered through clenched teeth. She made a small sound in the back of her throat as her hands released his hair to clutch his shoulders, her nails digging viciously into his skin drawing blood. The pain only fueled his passion. He released her shoulders so he could grabbed her hips to roughly pull her down with each hard snap of his hips. She moaned his name, long and drawn out, her eyes closed tight. Another new urge surged through him as his grip on her hips tightened.
"Ochako, look at me." he commanded.
Her eyes snapped open as she stared up at him, her face a beautiful mask of agonized pleasure. That look made him pull her hips harder and thrust into her with more force. She gave him a broken cry, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
The room and everything else faded away. It was just him and her. Their heavy breaths, her hands clawing at him, her tight insides seemingly sucking him in with every thrust, her choking out his name every few seconds, the sound of skin slapping against skin, her eyes never leaving his. She tried to meet his every thrust but he was moving too fast so she moved when she could, meeting his hips with every third pump.
He heard a strange sound and wondered vaguely what it was before realizing it was him grunting like an animal with each thrust. He couldn't bother to care. He lifted her up so she was straddling him, his strong arms supporting her upper body, one hand moving up her back to grip her neck while his other remained on her waist. He tightened his grip on her neck, making her gasp.
The new position allowed him to thrust a little deeper into her, making them both throw their heads back in pleasure. It also allowed him to hit a spot he wasn't hitting before the change. With her head still thrown back, she arched her back, pushing her breasts against his chest, pushing down with her hips to meet with each rough jerk of his. A guttural sound emerged from her open mouth. It was incredibly hot. She was incredibly hot and giving him pleasure no other woman was brave enough or strong enough to give him.
"Fuck you take my dick so well, 'Chako." he praised. His grip on her tightened, he was getting close. "I want to fuck you forever." he growled. By the way her walls tightened even more around him, a fresh flood of moisture coating him, his words must have affected her. The feeling was overwhelming. He wasn't going to last much longer. He was present enough to want to make sure she came first.
Looking deep into her eyes he fucked into her with everything he had, teetering precariously on that edge, dangerously close to falling. He clenched his teeth as he concentrated on not releasing first. She was almost there, he could feel it. He slid his hand from her waist to slip between them, finding her clit with his fingertips and rubbing the bundle of nerves in fast circles.
"Cum Ochako. Lemme see you cum on my dick." he said, his voice so low and husky he barely recognized it himself. As if his words had full command over her body, she tensed around him, her eyes widening in shock, her mouth forming an O as she began to spasm in his arms, a high keening sound spilling from her lips. The feel of her body squeezing him a steady pulse pushed him over that fine edge he was dancing on sending him tailspinning into a wave of pleasure he never experienced before.
Fuck fuck fuck..." he chanted, thrusting into her mercilessly. She moaned so loud she might've been heard on the whole floor. He lowered her back to the bed, erratically thrusting into her deeply a few more times before collapsing on top of her, burying his face in her neck, a ragged moan torn from his throat. She jerked against him spasmadically before her body completely relaxed beneath him. | 5260b520be084ca7b0691dd368346f6d | ['d5ce22f87f40416da13b899b03b27875'] | She was perfectly fine with where they stood with each other. They understood one another. They worked well together. He had her back and she had his. That was enough. So it was perfectly safe. No need for these weak men to feel threatened. She bit her lip out of habit when she was deep in thought. Yea...no need...
"Yami! Another and two!" Bakugou suddenly barked out to the bartender, jarring her back into reality. She realized she had been spacing out, staring at the last drops of beer left in her glass. She looked up at Bakugou to find him studying her quietly. The look on his face unusually unreadable. She stared back at him, waiting for him to say something.
The staring contest was broken when a full pitcher and two more shots of whiskey appeared on the table before them. They automatically picked up their shots, clinked them together before tapping them against the table and knocking them back, their eyes locked.
They had a ongoing game in which whoever made a face after taking a shot had to pay for everything. If both or neither did, they'd split. Neither of them twitched a single muscle. He gave her one of those rare warm smiles he'd grace her with when she impressed him in the slightest. She sighed softly while returning a little smile of her own.
She was used to these moments when he was just so cute she wanted to pull him against her and squeeze him to death. Maybe run her hands through his hair. Maybe kiss those lips that looked so soft even when harsh words, never directed at her, of course, were coming from them.
Yes, she was use to that, but she was adept at pushing those feelings to the darkest reaches of her mind and just see him as the friend he is and just that. Tonight those moments she was totally use to was a little more poignant than usual. Probably the alcohol. She shook her head slightly as if she could shake those thoughts away then lifted up the pitcher to fill their glasses. They're _friends_. Just friends. _Stop it_.
"Did you like him that much?" he asked unexpectedly. She blinked at him.
"What? What made you ask that?"
He gestured at her with his empty shot glass. "You looked all sad and forlorn for a minute." He continued to scrutinize her face as if he was looking for something.
She felt her face flush in embarrassment. She was _not_ sad or forlorn. Just wistful. She felt like she had been caught even though he had no way of knowing she was thinking of him. "Just realized I'll have to pay full rent again." she deadpanned. He snorted in laughter. She smiled back at him, fully this time.
His laugh faded away after a moment and he went back to studying her.
"What?" she finally asked when he didn't say anything and continued to look at her quietly.
"So what now?" he asked. He lifted his full glass of beer and took a long swig, his eyes never leaving hers.
"What do you mean what now? I do what I've always been doing, even more so now that I have more time on my hands." she answered taking a sip of her own beer. He nodded with approval.
"Ok. Good." he replied. He downed the rest of his beer.
"What happened between you and Naoko?" she asked impulsively. She watched as his eyes widened in surprise before looking away from her, face still inscrutable. She knew the question came out of left field but she had always been curious about it. He told her everything so the fact that he refused to tell her the reason of their break up bothered her a bit. She knew she was being hypocritical, her not telling him about her own breakup, though if he asked she'd tell him. The three pitchers and the eight shots they shared made her feel less self conscious about telling him he was involved. Surely, that amount of alcohol would be enough to loosen his own tongue a bit too.
He reached for the pitcher and filled his glass up again. He took a swallow then looked back at her. "Nothing worth mentioning." he finally replied. She huffed in annoyance. Dammit, she thought she was finally going to get an answer. She knew there was no point in pushing. Bakugou had that stubborn set to his face that meant more answers were not forthcoming. She sighed in good natured defeat. It was worth a try.
"My place or yours?" he asked, effectually changing the subject.
She eyed the pitcher that had just enough for one more glass before looking back at him over her nearly finished beer. She hated wasting anything that she paid for. If she had won the shot game she wouldn't care but since they tied and she would have to pay, she did.
He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was thinking and picked up the pitcher and drank the remaining contents in one go. He slammed the empty container down on the table and raised his eyebrows at her. All she could do was laugh while shaking her head as she reached in her bag to pull out enough money for her half before answering.
"Yours."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I've been sitting on this story for a while. Hope you enjoy.
2. Chapter 2
Uraraka sat on his couch mindlessly flipping through channels while he prepared their traditional post drinks ramen for them. He rolled his eyes when he heard rather than saw her stay on a Korean soap opera. She fucking loved those. |
d353b02a12c0499cab97553c18ee9799 | ['d5d3b8c54aa64377984d4a7d78825ad7'] | True to his word, Kyo turned around and away from her, elbows tucked in. She waited a few moments and with hesitant fingers, she worked her way down. She immediately realised she was wet and flushed with embarrassment. She cupped herself, her fingers tense and thoroughly puzzled by how hollow she felt but sensitive too. She shifted her legs, trying to mask the noise the friction between her fingers and wetness were making. She looked surreptitiously at Kyo, who was rigid.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed softly.
She could see him taking a laboured breath, his shoulders rising and falling.
“That’s okay. Take your time.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, nodding.
She tried again, splaying her fingers over herself and prodding desperately. She let out a weak whimper and she could feel Kyo move and shift beside her.
“Are you okay?”
“I really don’t know what I’m doing, Kyo-kun,” Tohru responded, a sob tight in her throat.
“Do you want to stop?”
Stop frustrating herself? _Absolutely._ But she was afraid uttering those words would break this rare, fragile moment of intimacy between them.
Tohru gulped audibly, summoning as much courage as she could. “I want you to help.”
“Are--are you _sure_?” Kyo’s muffled voice was incredulous.
Tohru nodded, knowing he couldn’t even see her but she was tongue-tied, unable to put words the torrent of emotions that had her frozen.
She could hear the rustling of the bedsheets and instinctively shut her eyes. The rough pad of his fingers brushed slick strands away from her forehead. His thumb rubbed the knot between her eyes, his hand eventually nestling to cradle her cheek.
“You’re fine, Tohru.”
She opened her eyes hesitantly, and one look into his warm, glistening eyes had her relieved.
“I feel better.”
Kyo raised a dubious eyebrow, laughing. “I didn’t do anything, dope.”
“Seeing your face made me feel better,” Tohru clarified, smiling.
She knew all of this was a delicate balancing act. She knew that Kyo’s fear was really the proof of his love for her. She could be brave enough for the both of them. She had to be.
“Try again,” Kyo encouraged softly, a light press of his lips along the edge of her chin.
“I won’t look.”
Tohru tightened her first, biting her lip. “I-I don’t mind, Kyo-kun. If you do.”
She reached forward again, eyes half-closed, fingers delving underneath her panties and Tohru felt tempered desire again. She could feel the weight of Kyo’s chest against her arm, his fingers drawing comforting circles on her clothed side, his other hand restlessly brushing away strands, but most importantly his eyes never leaving her face.
“How’re you doing?” Kyo asked, his voice taking on a low, hoarse edge that alighted something within her.
“It feels...better.”
“Good.”
“ _But_ \--”
She nearly sagged, defeat nearing once again when she suddenly felt Kyo pinning her fingers between his hand and her body. He slid her hand back down, not breaking eye-contact.
“I’ll help. You want me to help, right?”
“Yes. Please.”
And the contact of Kyo’s sweat-slicked fingers on top of hers, slowly making the short descent into her wet warmth made Tohru’s breath hitch, the beating of her heart practically deafening her. She started moving two of her fingers, quickly finding a pattern as Kyo’s fingers filled her.
The tension slowly left her body, being replaced with a delirious need. Her attention was split like fractals - she wasn’t sure what to focus on: Kyo breathing raggedly against her neck or his fingers moving painfully slow, keeping her taut.
Her breath caught again, her back lifting up slightly from their bed and her toes pointing downward. _I feel like I’m drowning._ But it was hot. So hot. She could feel the hot water slowly rising inside of her, swaying up and down, like waves. _Like the ocean._
“Kyo-kun.” Every time she attempted to say Kyo’s name, her words ended up a broken moan. She parted her legs wider, and Kyo’s tongue was warm on her neck.
His thumb was gliding against that curious nub now and she waited impatiently for his fingers to find it again. Letting out a frustrated breath, her body arched, chasing something fleeting, and new and _good_.
“You’re so warm, Tohru.”
Kyo’s frantic, hot words against her neck tore a moan from her throat. He guided her fingers, pulsing in and out of her. His thumb worked over her now, over and over and she could feel the scorching water surrounding her, choking her, pulling her in.
She grabbed Kyo’s wrist, keeping him still as she mindlessly rocked into his hand. And with an overwhelming tug inside of her, her body was wrought with tremors. All at once, it was gone. _All of it_ \--the heat, the blind need and even Kyo’s fingers.
Staggered breaths in tandem filled their small bedroom, Kyo slowly rolling onto his back, cheeks reddened and an arm likely covering furtive eyes. Tohru contemplated silently, realising she felt shy and unsure but underneath it all was a warmth unfurling in her chest. _Everything’s okay, Kyo-kun. See?_ She locked her ankles, raising bent knees against her chest, watching Kyo’s steadying breathing with a bashful smile.
_We’re okay._
2. part ii
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> thank you all for the wonderfully encouraging comments and kudos. i was a bit late with the update due to life but part ii is finally here.
>
> i'm delighted to be part of such a talented, encouraging and kind-hearted fandom. like HONESTLY. <3
**_part ii_ **
The evening was miraculously cool despite the warmer than usual May afternoon--sky a melancholy, cotton-candy pink.
And yet Tohru was burning. | 96229d2f13884245a631c329a6634702 | ['d5d3b8c54aa64377984d4a7d78825ad7'] |
the simple shallows
**Author's Note:**
> this is my love-letter to angsty kyoru. wherein kyo resolved to love tohru in secret and tohru's heart broke the entire time. i'm a glutton for punishment, clearly 😭 😭 😭 i've been working on this one for awhile now and hope y'all enjoy.
**i.**
He realized too late that he remembered her most by sounds and smells. The epiphany came to him while half-sprawled on his tatami mat, the infernal pitter-patter of rain barely drowned out by his pillow. Tohru smelled of wet plum blossoms and pancake syrup. Like citrusy detergent, linen and miso.
Her soft giggles were a chorus in his head. Her _Kyo-kuns_ , because there were several kinds of _Kyo-kuns_ \---with admonishment, the one followed by a cheery _“good morning”_ , the stuttering, embarrassed _Kyo-kun_ that meant he was teasing her a bit too much were all carefully filed away.
Kyo scowled into his elbow. _Fuck._ He needed more. _Kyo-kun_ and citrusy pine were well and good but it wouldn’t be enough for when he’d be locked up. He wanted to memorize her, stitched behind both eyelids so she’d be there in the suffocating dark, torching the Cat’s Room ablaze with her resilient light.
He needed it all. A lifetime’s worth.
And then, _maybe_...
**ii.**
The sight of Kyo’s paper flower on her oak nightstand was bittersweet for Tohru. She remembered the earnest, heartbreaking look he gave her when he presented it to her. She can still feel the twist in her gut as she cupped it and held it close to her heart. Kyo’s hardened knuckles lightly rubbed against her palms, breathing in the heady scent that was all him -- she reminisced and revisited, but not like with Mom, where remembering filled the permanent hollow in her heart for a spell.
No, the memory of Kyo’s paper flower didn’t make her feel good at all. It was unshed tears she had to fight, it was bile rising in her throat, and fear of never, ever seeing him again.
_It hurts, Mom._
**iii.**
There were many things Kyo knew to be true about Honda Tohru, but the most surprising was how soundly and deeply she slept. It was a trait she shared with the sickly rat. He observed it for the first time after visiting her mother’s gravesite, as she laid out on the balcony, her hair tousled around her like a halo, face wholly serene.
_I’m sorry._
He definitely couldn’t relate, as he often slept in that weird purgatory between awake and rest, fists clenched, waiting for battle. He wondered what she was dreaming about, and how he hoped it gave her some solace. A well-deserved break from constantly chipping away at the hard rot that was the Sohma’s and their curse.
He tested his theory over the past summer, as she’d taken to sleeping in the oddest places, no doubt influenced by Momiji and perhaps a burgeoning level of comfort that made him feel warm. He’d find her curled underneath the pull-out sofa, leaning against a sturdy tree, on the small breakfast table in the villa---and he’d watch, listen, move closer and start revealing in a whispered rush.
_I hate how I need you._
It was dangerously stupid of him but the lightness in his chest after his confessions became too addictive, too freeing.
He could pretend she knew everything in this small, pathetic way. Tohru _knew_ , she didn’t care…she forgave him and maybe, hell, even felt the same way too.
But inevitably, like all things in Kyo’s life, the content of his confessions became less about him and more about her. He’d keep it locked in, he reasoned, because— _shit_ , that was inevitable too.
_I hate how I need you._
_But I hate not being with you more._
**iv.**
“Ready?”
Kyo waited expectantly at the sliding doors, slightly ajar and a snapping winter breeze blowing in. The sky was milky and still, last night’s snow like sprinkles on the tufts of grass. Kyo was tucked warmly in his favourite bomber jacket, hands stuffed to the brim in his pockets. The swell of butterflies, fluttering in her chest before they settled in her belly at the sight of him, were hardly a surprise. She seemed to have no control over her recent past-time of staring at Kyo, and opportunities had become more frequent with it being just the two of them commuting back and forth from school. Yuki’s presidential duties reserved more and more of his time and although she missed him dearly, she took advantage of drinking Kyo in shamelessly, wondering when she’d ever be sated.
_When will it be enough, Mom?_
She bounded quickly to Kyo’s side, slipping on her ankle boots with little preamble.
“Where’s your other coat? The big, red one?”
“Oh, it got ruined in the dryer,” She murmured, flushed with embarrassment, “It’s alright. This one’ll do.”
He had that reluctant edge in his jaw and finally nodded. She took her perfunctory spot to his right, her leather messenger bag gripped loosely at her front as they bounded down the length of stone stairs. Her chest clenched, like always, when she noted how he slowed his pace for her. Months ago, he’d skip two steps at a time as she and Yuki trailed behind. From her peripheral, she could just make out his shoulder, his tanned neck flanked by his jacket’s brown collar.
She instinctively wetted her lips, her throat already seizing. The painful desire to take a photo of him just in this moment gripped her.
_It’s cruel, Mom._ |
ef372fa067b24fb293b600a806f3ecd8 | ['d5d9482ffd5941f0a48ebf24b33cc9cb'] | The Hair Clip
“Are you sure you’ll be okay with them alone Gray?” Juvia asked worriedly, Gray sighed playfully and kissed her forehead,
“Yes,” he stressed, smiling and waving his hand dismissively, “go have fun. You’ve been planning this night out for weeks.” he chuckled, admiring his fiancee one more time before she left for her night with the girls.
“If Gray says so...Juvia will be back at midnight.” she sighed, a worried smile littering her face. She kissed Gray, sweet and short, and walked out the door to the taxi.
Gray waved as she was driven off, closing the door and locking it for the night.
“Okay, guys! What do you want for dinner?” he called, turning and facing his two kids on the couch, playing with each other.
Sylvia giggled and Rin ran over to his father,
“Pancakes!” Sylvia squealed, while Rin chuckled, making Gray scoff, and despite the lecture he was sure to get from Juvia later, gave in and began making the pancake batter from scratch.
“Daddy! Let me flip one!” Slyvia whined, pulling at Gray’s shirt. Gray smirked and lifted her into his arms, handing her the spatula and guiding her hand towards the pan.
Sloppily, the two managed to flip the pancake, splattering themselves a little and making a very messy pancake in the process.
“There you go! You’re gonna be a great cook one day, just like your mum!” Gray praised, Sylvia giggled, kissing her fathers cheek and sliding down his hip onto the floor.
Rin smiled at his younger sister and began pulling out plates, knives and forks for the three of them, as Sylvia grabbed out the maple syrup and strawberries.
“Dad, do you want ice-cream with yours?” Rin called from the fridge, Gray hummed and nodded,
“Yes, thank you, Rin,” he called back, flipping the last pancake into the stack. He turned the stove off and threw the pan and spatula into the sink, to be washed later and walked to the table with the stack of pancakes way to big for the three to finish.
“Eugh…” Sylvia gurgled, slouching back in her seat as she finished her fourth pancake.
“Had enough?” Gray laughed as he picked up all their plates and walked to the sink, Slyvia yawned as she followed him and helped dry the dished he freshly cleaned.
“Dad, showers free!” Rin called, patting his wet hair with a towel. Gray nodded as Rin walked into his bedroom and he and Sylvia finished the dishes.
“Okay. Bath time.” Gray stated, glancing at Sylvia, her face dropped, a clear sign she was going to protest.
“But Dad,” she whined, slumping her shoulders and scrunching up her eyes. Gray chuckled and sighed, lifting his daughter from the floor and walking into the still steamy bathroom.
He placed her on the ground and grabbed a clip from the counter and pulled his bangs back, clipping them in place.
Sylvia grumbled as she pulled off her clothes and chucked them into the hamper. Gray turned the hot water tap and waited from warm water as he grabbed a fresh towel, setting it aside for the grumpy girl once they were done.
“Come on, I don’t like this any more than you do, but you’re dirty. You had a long day at the guild today and you stink.” he sighed, a slight laugh in his voice.
Sylvia groaned and begrudgingly grabbed the sponge and slathered it in soap. Gray kneeled on the floor, amused by his daughter's hate of bath time.
Sylvia grinned as she saw Gray not paying attention, and pulling the water and splashed him.
“Hey!” he yelled, looking from his now-soaked shirt to his daughter. She laughed as Gray removed his shirt and threw it in the hamper.
“You are so lucky I’m a cool dad.” he scoffed, pulling Sylvia from the tub and wrapping her in a towel.
Sylvia shook her head like a dog as water flew from her hair, getting on the wall, the mirror, and of course, Gray.
“Oh, you are so in for it!” he shouted as Sylvia squealed and ran from the bathroom, abandoning the towel and just going butt-naked.
Gray chased her throughout the house and cornered her in the hallway, grinning mischievously and bearing his hands wickedly, wiggling his fingers.
“Sylvia Fullbuster, you are hereby sentenced to tickles!” he exclaimed, rushing down and tickling her sides mercilessly.
“No! No, Daddy stop!” she laughed breathlessly, Gray smirked at his victory and pulled away, whisking Sylvia up into his arms and back to the bathroom.
“You need to dry off, you’ll catch a cold and your mother will think I caused it.” he grinned, dropping her in the bathroom floor and drying her off.
Rin walked in, toothbrush in hand and smirked,
“Lost again?” he teased, Sylvia pouted and grumbled,
“No! I just...let Daddy win! I don’t want him to feel old and weak! Yeah, that’s it!” she yelled, Gray scoffed and pulled her shirt over her head,
“Sure. Whatever you say,” he said, pulling the clip from his hair, and letting his bangs fall. | c793afa4c0a04ec49e653116577fe713 | ['d5d9482ffd5941f0a48ebf24b33cc9cb'] |
A Princess Shows Her Gratitude
**Author's Note:**
> this was for an event I participated in and I'm glad that my partner liked it! I hope you do to!
The trees swayed with the wind, making a peaceful rustling sound as the small blonde picked flowers from by the creek. She knew she shouldn’t be there, so close to the dragons den, but this was where the flowers were the prettiest, she thought.
She hummed to the tune of her mother's lullaby as she weaved the flowers into a crown. She smiled and placed the crown around her exceed’s neck, Happy, who was an unusual cat. He was blue, given to the small girl at birth as an egg.
Said cat meowed annoyedly and sneezed as he breathed in a flower.
The girl giggled and began weaving another crown, using brightly coloured flowers.
Behind the grand oak trees lining the forest, a little dragon sat against a tree, nestled in a too big scarf and slowly falling asleep to the humming.
“Lucy?” a familiar voice called, Lucy’s head peered over the small hill to see her mother, the peach dress she wore being carried in the wind.
“Mother!” Lucy exclaimed, running happily to her mum. Her smile was soft as she welcomed Lucy with open arms, picking her off the meadow floor.
Lucy relaxed in her mother’s warmth and smiled brightly, holding up the crown she had made.
“I made you a crown! It’s not as pretty as yours, but…” she muttered, Layla chuckled, taking her crown off and switching it to the flowers.
“I love it, it is so much more beautiful than mine. I’ll wear it till it withers.” she hummed, kissing Lucy’s cheek. Lucy giggled and hugged her mother. Layla held her close, as she was the dearest thing in the world to her
Behind the trees, the young dragon gazed at the two girls, taking in the view of how happy they were.
He growled and ran back into the forest, determined to have that same moment of happiness.
“Igneel! Igneel!” the young boy shouted, running over to a humongous, fire red dragon. The dragon looked at his son and smiled, lowering his body as low as he could so he could look him in the eye.
“Yes, Natsu?” he chuckled, breathing a cloud of smoke into the boy’s face. He coughed and giggled as he climbed on his dads head.
“I made you this,” he stated, placing a flower crown on the rough scales of his dad’s head. The crown was made poorly compared to the one he saw the girl make, but he stood proud as he hopped off the giant dragon and looked up at him.
Igneel plucked the flower crown off of his head and examined it. He sighed, but smiled and placed it back down.
“You’ve been watching that girl again, haven’t you?” he said softly, Natsu blushed and shook his head, dismissing his dad.
“Do you like it?” he questioned, Igneel chuckled, using an overly huge talon to ruffle Natsu’s hair.
“Yes, I like it, son,” he answered, waiting for his son’s next move. Natsu was beaming, but only for a moment before plopping onto the dirt floor of the forest floor. Igneel peered at his son as his face crumpled into a disappointed frown.
“Why doesn’t it feel the same…” he muttered, but Igneel heard it, with his heightened dragon ears. He scooped up the young boy into his hand and pulling him over as he laid down,
“What doesn't feel the same, Natsu?” he asked, though he knew the answer. Natsu sighed relaxing on his dad's neck as he peered at the dense forest treetops, shading them from the afternoon sun.
“That...feeling she gets. The girl with the blonde hair. She always sits at the creek and makes flower crowns or plays with her dolls,” he began. Igneel listened closely, “When the older version of her comes, they always have this...feeling. I don’t know what it’s called,” he explained, remembering the young girl, around his age, with what looked like an older clone of her.
“For starters, the older one is her mother.” he laughed, Natsu looked at him in confusion, and Igneel sighed, “A mother is the one who carries the child before they’re born. Think of it as a female version of a dad. You can’t have a mother without a father.” he spoke quietly, as Natsu listened intently. Igneel could see the cogs turning in his head as he was thinking.
“Then...where’s my mother?” he muttered, Igneel froze at the question he longed to never answer. He looked at his son, smiling lovingly and sighing.
He would have to tell him one day, but today was not that day.
“You’re mother disappeared when you were a baby. You wouldn’t remember her,” he lied, perching his head on his hand. Natsu nodded solemnly, and though he knew his father was lying, didn’t push any further.
“How about tomorrow you try and befriend the girl? She lives close by and it would be nice for you to have a friend your age,” Igneel suggested, changing the subject. Natsu looked up to his dad and smiled brightly, his sharp teeth poking through his parted lips.
“That’s a great idea Igneel! I bet she’ll want a gift, being a noble and all. What should I get her?” he ranted, pacing as his little head thought over things he could get the girl. Igneel watched in amusement as Natsu was hit with an idea and ran off into the forest.
His little feet pounded the dirt floor as he ran, so fast he kicked up dust, leaving a trail behind him as he sped off towards a creek. He stepped into the water and waited. And he waited for a while before a school of fish made their way through the clear water. He lowered his body close down to the water and held out his hand. |
a09102aedda94aee8ced7f9048a632b7 | ['d5ee575031024e728a7116a1ea3fe7aa'] | Jaemin sits cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by his blankets and the endless moomin soft toys Renjun brings but forgets to take home. He hugs one close to his chest, absentmindedly stroking it.
_ I don’t think you’re cut out for this _
_ I don’t think you’re cut out for this _
_ I don’t think- _
Jaemin hugs the moomin plushie tighter as sobs spill out of him, each one more heart-breaking than the previous. He digs his nails into the plushie, burying his face in it as he cries his heart out, tears running down his face.
_ Ding! _
His phone lights up with a notification. Shakily he grips it, checking the message.
Junnie: hey im outside your house
Nana: You’re wHAT
Junnie: lets go out, ill wait for you
Nana: what the hell injun wHERE its _ 2.30am in the morning _
Junnie: ;)
Jaemin sniffs, using the back of his hand to aggressively wipe away his tears. He tears the charger out of his phone, pocketing it as he slides off the bed. Patting the moomin slightly, he silently apologises for squashing it as he sneaks out of his room slowly. He tiptoes quietly past his parents’ room and all the way to the front door. Opening it, he is greeted with the back view of Renjun’s impressive shoulders as the boy stands at his driveway, looking up at the sky.
Renjun whips around, startled by the sound of the door opening. He gives Jaemin a wide gummy smile, instantly causing Jaemin’s heart to do a little flip.
“Let’s go!” Renjun grins wide and happy, reaching out to hold Jaemin’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Jaemin’s heart starts palpitating like crazy, doing somersaults all of the place. If only Renjun knew how whipped he was for him. He shyly ducks his head, trying to hide the spreading blush on his face.
“Where?”
“You’ll know once we get there!”
“You know I don’t like surprises.”
“But you love me!”
Jaemin stops breathing for a second, his whole body suddenly malfunctioning. “Ju-just start walking,” Jaemin stutters uncharacteristically, almost tripping over himself as he walks forward, dragging Renjun with him. _ Cute, _ Renjun thinks, smiling like an idiot at his boyfriend’s flustered actions.
-
“HUANG RENJUN where did you get a car from?!” Jaemin shrieks hysterically, hands gesturing from the car to Renjun and back again wildly. Renjun doubles over laughing. Jaemin, still panicking, slaps Renjun multiple times in an attempt to stop his manic laughter. “Ow ow ow! Okay okay stop abusing me!” Renjun wipes away the stray tears from laughing too hard. “I got this from my brother’s boyfriend, he owed me,” Renjun explains, going to unlock the car.
“You got Yuta to part with his baby?”
“Don’t underestimate me Nana, besides Yuta’s baby isn’t his car, it’s Sicheng,”
“...you’re right.”
“So, you gonna get in or what princess?”
“....”
Renjun smirks at him from the driver seat, and Jaemin knows he’s a goner.
-
Jaemin shivers slightly as he steps out of the car, his shoes sinking into the soft sand. He walks out towards the shoreline, gaping in wonder at the view. He takes in the sound of waves rushing to meet the land, the slight ruffle of the breeze against his skin, the beautiful stars hanging up on the sky, illuminating the water and making it glow a brilliant golden colour, almost the same colour as Renjun’s hair. Something rustles behind him, then a jacket is being draped over his shoulders. He turns around to see his boyfriend staring at him, a slight smile on his face. The two of them walk hand in hand towards the water, sitting a slight distance away from the shoreline on the blanket that Renjun had laid out.
He leans into Renjun, taking comfort in his warmth as Renjun drapes an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“...do you, want to talk?”
Jaemin shakes his head.
“....are you sad?”
Jaemin comtemplates slightly, staying silent. He finally gives a small nod.
“Do you want to tell me why?”
Jaemin doesn’t reply. Instead, he rests his head on Renjun’s lap, closing his eyes as he feels fingers softly brushing through his hair. Both of them sit there silently, listening to the sound of the waves and each other’s breaths.
A few minutes pass, and Jaemin inhales sharply. Renjun immediately focuses his attention on him.
“My teacher, she...she said that maybe I wasn’t cut out for nursing,” Jaemin’s voice trembles slightly.
Renjun calls upon every ounce of his self control to not immediately stand up and go to Jaemin’s teacher and demand an apology. He sits up, causing Jaemin to do so too. Jaemin stares into Renjun’s eyes, feeling the tears welling up slowly.
Renjun takes a deep breath, then he grabs Jaemin’s hands tightly, gazing imploringly into his eyes.
“Na Jaemin, you listen to me well and you get this into your head got it? Fuck your teacher, because she doesn’t get to tell you you’re not cut out for nursing, not when she’s never seen you stay up all night worrying for that little girl in the hospital that the doctors said might not make it and she’s never seen you break down and cry when that girl lived through her surgery. You might be a little too tall and a little too thin but your heart is so big and made of absolute gold Jaemin, you may not see it but everyone around you does, they see a beautiful caring boy that always does his best for everyone he nurses, i see a fucking _ angel _ in you Na Jaemin, don’t you dare let anyone tell you that you’re not cut out for your dream because you are, you are and i believe in you with my whole heart.”
And Jaemin sees the way Renjun stares at him, so full of love and faith. In that moment, he feels invincible. He swallows his tears, eyes dry and heart so full of love and trust and everything sweet and good in life as he kisses Renjun sweetly, melting into his embrace and feeling the other boy hug him back just as firmly.
Jaemin and Renjun spend the night locked in an embrace, forgetting the harsh words and cold glares trying to tear them down as they slowly fall asleep.
-
“Renjun look! Look!! It’s the sunrise!” Jaemin calls excitedly, shaking Renjun awake. “It’s so beautiful!!”
Renjun blinks, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peers out towards the horizon. Then he does a double take _ woah _ , jaemin looks so pretty standing there as the light from the sun hits him, making him glow bright golden and Renjun swears he saw a halo form on Jaemin’s head before he blinks and it’s gone.
Jaemin turns back, waiting for a reply.
“You’re beautiful.” | 84b892f4e79f4b00921efe18f8f53401 | ['d5ee575031024e728a7116a1ea3fe7aa'] | A loud crash sounds out from the kitchen, followed by shouts of “Mark!” and “Hyung!”. Renjun sighs helplessly, thinking, “So much for letting me rest by doing the cooking Mark”. He slowly gets up from the couch, almost tripping over Jaemin’s sprawled legs on the floor. Kicking one of them slightly, he ignores the noise of protest from Jaemin as he makes his way to the kitchen. He steps in cautiously, seeing an overturned bowl of fruits on the floor, Jisung and Donghyuck standing frozen off to the side and Mark staring wide-eyed at the scattered fruits, a pair of scissors in hand. He sighs. Using his hands, he motions for all of them to get out, shoving Mark lightly in the direction of the door, who finally breaks out of his trance. Mark looks at Renjun sadly, pouting slightly, “I’m so sorry Junnie”.
Renjun scrunches his nose up in disgust.
_Is that the face you make at Hyuck everyday? Why is he still with you?_
Renjun waves his phone in Mark’s face. Mark splutters, turning bright red as he fumbles for words to say. Sighing, he pushes Mark out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. Rolling up his sleeves, Renjun gets to work.
“Renjun you’re the best!”, Jaemin cheers happily as he munches on his food. Renjun shushes him, pretending to look annoyed but the small smile on his face betrays him. Jaemin grins, going back to the movie. Chenle and Jisung exchange glances, but none of them comment on it. Halfway through their second movie, Renjun glances around to see most of them dozing off. He nudges Donghyuck, who turns off the tv and announces that its time to sleep. They all crawl into the makeshift bed on the living room floor, hands and feet struggling to find space as the bed instantly becomes packed, all of them squeezed like sardines in a can. Renjun dozes off sandwiched between Jeno and Jaemin.
Renjun wakes up to a long hallway and an exit sign. He knows what is coming, but it does nothing to make his fear any less real when he jolts up, breaths coming out in short gasps and sweat making his shirt stick to his body. He gets up shakily, noting that Jeno’s side of the bed is empty as he makes his way to the well-lit kitchen. As expected, he finds Jeno sitting at the dining table, staring off into space with a glass of water by his side. Jeno turns towards Renjun in surprise.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be up at this hour, its 3am Junnie,” He whispers softly.
Renjun only shrugs, mouthing the word ‘nightmare’ as he goes to grab his own glass of water.
“You okay?”
He sets the glass of water down. Jeno’s question sinks into him, feeling all the years of anger and anxiety and frustration buried deep inside bubble up to the surface. A wave of sadness crashes into him, the catalyst that causes the pot of emotions bubbling inside Renjun to overflow. All of his struggles captured in the neverending tears flowing down his face. Jeno panics, getting up so suddenly he almost trips over his own feet. He wraps his arms around Renjun’s small frame, hugging him tightly. Renjun clenches both fists in Jeno’s shirt tightly, so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Burying his face into Jeno’s shoulder, Renjun lets his tears flow freely. Suddenly, a pair of arms sneak themselves around Renjun’s waist, the warmth of another body faintly registering somewhere in Renjun’s mind. Jaemin and Jeno communicate silently with their eyes, both holding tightly onto Renjun as he unravels.
Renjun wipes his tears silently as Jeno goes to change shirts. The three of them stumble back into the makeshift bed, Jeno and Jaemin cuddling Renjun sweetly. They fall asleep with all the unspoken promises and confessions at the tips of their tongues, waiting to be heard.
That night, Renjun dreams of honey and strawberries, then wonders if Jaemin’s and Jeno’s lips would taste the same. |
a9f87e7b8a5b4556ada0d50ecf701e3c | ['d60cf32e6c304d50b4f3d9f24094757b'] |
1. Our Fairy Laws
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
The Queen was sitting on a high branch, watching Iolanthe. The fairy was hanging lazily in a hammock of cobweb, rocked by the breeze. The golden evening light, shining through beads of rain caught on the spiders’ silk, dappled her skin with a hundred bright little pinpoints. A warm hazy halo glowed around her dark hair. She seemed, so the Queen thought, everything that a queen herself should be.
“Your songs and dances this week have been inspired,” the Queen told her fondly. “I should very much like to know how you happen upon so many wonderful ideas.”
Iolanthe smiled peacefully. “Thank you, your majesty,” she replied, “but ‘tis nothing any other fairy could not do, in the right circumstances.”
***
_Iolanthe_. Her name was almost a charm in itself. She was famous among fairies for her ingenuity. There was scarcely a step they danced or a tune they sung for which they did not have her to thank. She had an insatiable, magnetic energy that no-one could deny, least of all the Queen. Nature seemed to bend like a prism around her, refracting all its joy and brightness and wonder towards her.
And yet.
If they had guessed her secret – the special power by which she had become the inventress of the fairy kingdom, known to all her sisters for her graceful steps, her lyrics and melodies and her delightful games – if they had guessed, it would have earnt her not fame but infamy.
***
It was getting late. Walter half-thought she wasn’t coming. It was a fear he often felt: there was something so strange and elusive about his beloved that he never quite believed his memory of her. Whenever she left him, she seemed to slip not just out of sight but out of the world entirely, so that even with both his eyes as sworn witnesses, he sometimes wondered whether he hadn’t just dreamt her up completely. More likely that, than that a girl so indisputably perfect could love him.
And yet, here she was, indeed! He clasped her hands in his and kissed them. “Iolanthe, my darling, I have the most excellent news for you!”
“Do tell me,” said Iolanthe, smiling radiantly. Just to be near her lover was a delight.
“In recognition for my legal work, I am to be made a Peer of the Realm.”
“Why Walter, that is excellent news!” Iolanthe embraced him, pressing herself tightly to him. His happiness was like ambrosia, and she wanted every drop of it.
“My darling, I knew you’d be pleased for my success. But I want to share it with you properly.” Walter looked steadily at her for a moment. Then, to Iolanthe’s amazement, he got down on one knee. “Iolanthe, my treasure, will you make me the richest young Lord alive?”
Iolanthe’s wings stirred nervously under her bodice.
In the silence, Walter’ face fell. “I’m sorry, perhaps I have mis-judged…”
“No, you haven’t.” Love made her reckless. “Nothing would make me happier!”
***
It is well known that fairies thrive on lover. A lover’s glances, sighs, tears, anxieties and delights are the very breath of life to fairykind. Iolanthe had a lover all her own, and Love had made its home in Iolanthe’s heart.
The wedding was a mortal affair. It took place indoors, in a church. Rings were exchanged, and vows sworn – both magical acts. Iolanthe spent the whole ceremony on edge, fearful that she might be seen. She tried to stay out of sight of the tall glass windows that stretched skywards. But no-one hides from nature. Nature loved Iolanthe, and nature, on this occasion, was jealous.
***
“Thank you for your help, Iolanthe. Your skill as a seamstress is rivalled by none.”
The Queen sat curled inside a nutshell beside Iolanthe, watching how her elegant hands led the gossamer threads in tiny shining stitches. The Queen had been dancing Iolanthe’s newest dance, and, caught up in the moment, had torn the hem of her dress. Now Iolanthe was stitching it back together.
“It’s no trouble,” said Iolanthe. “In truth, I should ask your pardon, your highness. I was carried away; the steps were too ambitious, not nearly dainty enough for a fairy measure.” It was true. The other fairies had been having trouble keeping pace with Iolanthe of late. They would hurry, lose their breath, trip and stumble and tumble hither and thither, while Iolanthe danced on for hours with inexhaustible energy and grace.
She was, the Queen thought, simply a better fairy. The thought didn’t trouble her – or at least, the ache in her heart was not jealousy.
Nestling near, the Queen watched contentedly as Iolanthe’s nimble fingers drew out the silk, and the ring flashed gold on her finger.
The ring flashed gold on her finger.
***
According to ancient law, the fairy who marries a mortal dies. All fairies know this (with the improbable exception of Fleta, who never paid attention in _feegarten_ [a German word]).
Iolanthe knew it. The Queen certainly knew it.
Iolanthe cut off all ties to the fairy world and withdrew to her husband’s house. All the love in the world couldn’t ward off the fear she now felt. Luckily, she had realised her error before it was too late. She had seen the Queen’s eye fall on her wedding ring. For now, no fairy knew where she was, but it was only a matter of time.
Still, she would have thought it all worth it. The last short weeks of her life had been so full of feeling, and the world so rich and wonderful, that she felt she had never really lived before, in all the centuries of her existence.
But things were not so simple.
*** | d45abe04127049d69124a2e50ea4246c | ['d60cf32e6c304d50b4f3d9f24094757b'] | Rudolph looked at him. He wasn’t particularly stout or particularly skinny, but there was no muscle to him; he was all soft edges. His skin looked as if it had never seen the sun. Rudolph glanced at his own brown, lanky, freckled arms. “Would I make a good sailor?”
“Not if you’ve any of your mother’s manners,” Roger replied. Then, with a small smile, he asked, “Have you?”
Rudolph shrugged and grinned. “Apparently not.”
***
Rudolph waited for his parents to come back to the market. Six o’clock came and went with no sign of them. Seven o’clock. Eight o’clock. It was almost dusk now, so eventually Rudolph loaded the empty boxes into a handcart and walked home alone, still thinking about the boy on the fish stall. The sky was blushing a dark purple-red, the colour of spilt wine.
When Rudolph arrived at the castle, it was dark inside. From a distance he could see several figures buzzing around outside. Drawing nearer, he recognised the blue uniforms and crested black helmets of the Cornish constabulary. The Sergeant of Police met him on the gravel path. “I think you and I had better have a talk inside,” he said. “Um. Could you kindly let us in?”
Rudolph put on the kettle, because it seemed the proper thing to do. It hissed maliciously over the fire as the Sergeant explained to him how his father and mother had been killed that morning in a tragic farming accident. Rudolph was struck dumb, listening wordlessly and almost without feeling to the Sergeant’s voice.
“It is most distressing to me to be the bearer of bad news,” said the Sergeant, fiddling nervously with his moustache, “but I’m afraid there is one further misfortune of which I must make you aware. Before he died, your father disinherited you.”
“I beg your pardon!?” No longer speechless, Rudolph leapt to his feet in indignation. “Are you certain? Why would he do that? And why wouldn’t he tell me? There must be some mistake! Was this a recent decision?”
“Oh no,” said the Sergeant, “it happened almost a year before your birth… I suppose he must have forgotten about it, by the time you were born.”
“Can it be undone?”
The Sergeant coughed. “It is too late now.”
Rudolph frowned, thinking. He supposed it hadn’t actually made any difference to his life: he was still very much his parents’ son. Perhaps it had been done out of kindness, to save him in advance from the curse that had once hung over the head of the Baronet, whoever he happened to be.
Oh.
Cautiously, he asked, “Who is to be the new Baronet?”
“This may be difficult for you, lad. I’m afraid, in the absence of any male heirs,” (Rudolph glared at him) “Castle Ruddigore, the title and all your parents’ personal effects will pass into the possession of his foster-brother, Richard Dauntless.”
“Dick!?” Rudolph was outraged.
The Sergeant arched an eyebrow. “Now there’s no need for strong language,” he reproached.
“No, it’s just – my father has, _had_ , a brother. Despard. They were estranged once, but they’ve long since been reconciled. He hasn’t even spoken to Dick for eighteen years! They despise each other.”
“I’m afraid the will was made a long time ago, perhaps before your father’s reconciliation with his brother, uh, Despard. We did find a more recent will, but it was a forgery. Made about the same time he disinherited you.” The Sergeant shook his head. “I cannot understand it at all.”
***
Dick wasted no time. The next morning, Rudolph was sent away from the castle to live in his father’s old farmstead, alone. As he was leaving the house, his foster-uncle hissed in his ear, “My heart tells me plain as day you’re unwelcome here, so if ever I spy that flag of yours a-flyin’ in restricted waters again, you won’t have no friendly bun-fight on your hands. I run a tight little ship, and I won’t be having no bilge water on board, d’ye see?”
Zorah and Dick and their large family moved into the castle the same day. Dick, unlike his foster-brother, had innumerable children. Roger was the eldest, and fairly unobjectionable; but Willy, age fifteen, was the sulkiest, and the twins, Fanny and Randy, were undoubtedly the most annoying, and little Titty, at a humble ten months, was by far the noisiest.
Robin and Rose had agreed that the names were unfortunate; Rose had dithered over whether to say anything, but decided it would be indelicate. Zorah was blissfully oblivious, and so apparently was Dick himself, although you could never be sure.
Between the Dauntless children and the ex-Baronets of Ruddigore, the castle felt very full indeed.
***
There was a knock at the door of the farmstead. The sound was completely alien to Rudolph: He had lived there in complete isolation for a fortnight or longer (so long that he was losing track), and was not expecting a visitor. He half-thought the world had forgotten his existence all together; and anyway, if he wasn’t the son of Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, who on earth was he?
When he opened the door, he was doubly surprised to see Dick’s son Roger standing in the doorway. “Um. Come in,” he said perfunctorily, and showed him into the living room. It was a small low-ceilinged room which was nevertheless the largest in the house, with a couple of squat sofas angled around a sooty fireplace, and on the mantelpiece a blurry daguerreotype of a young Robin with his old black-and-tan. Roger took a seat on one of the sofas, and began to unload the contents of a bag.
“I thought you might want more supplies,” he explained in his soft, quiet voice, as he produced two bottles of milk, several cuts of ham, a loaf of bread and a large block of cheese. |
64ea033738d24f6c87b7fb9fa8456ff4 | ['d6992bc5b1ad4573b82654cdae0c69fa'] | Stretched out on the bed, it should have seemed crowded, but it didn’t. It felt comfortable. Intimate. Right. The only sound was us trying to catch our breath, until Jungkook chuckled.
"I'm never going to have an answer to that question, because the answer is just 'yes' to all of it. I want you both, and next time,” he said, reaching to grab each of our hands.
“I want to be in the middle,” Taehyung and I said at the same time, bursting into laughter at our own predictability.
“Sounds good to me,” Jungkook murmured, pressing kisses to each of our hands. “But first, a shower.” Jungkook pulled himself free and walked towards the bathroom. I couldn’t keep myself from grinning as I watched him walk away. His thighs were a work of art.
“Hey, don’t use all the hot water!” Taehyung shouted, sitting up quickly.
“Then come join me,” Jungkook called over his shoulder. Taehyung looked at me, tilted his head and smiled.
“Do you mind?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. I shook my head and patted him on the shoulder. “Really? You’re not jealous?”
“No, not at all. I might have been before, but not now. You boys have fun. I’m going to just lay here a bit. But for real, save some hot water for me.” Taehyung nodded then scrambled out of the bed after Jungkook.
I stretched out, grabbing all the pillows and then curled into a ball under the covers. The semester was almost over, and that meant that soon Thursdays would change. They had already changed so much but I didn’t know how our schedules would match up in the coming months. I didn’t want to lose whatever this was, this strange synergy, the way we all fit together, the way we bent and twisted around each other. I wondered how this was going to change things outside of the bedroom. I had my apartment to go back to, but Taehyung and Jungkook had to live together. They’d been doing so well before this. Would this ruin it, or just make it easier? And what about me? Where did I fit into all of this? Were Taehyung and I still dating? Were we dating Jungkook now too? I had too many questions and not enough energy. All those questions would be there after my shower.
It was still Thursday, and for now, Thursdays were for pancakes, oral sex and polyamory. | b15d1f0ea24047e49bba7e134686952e | ['d6992bc5b1ad4573b82654cdae0c69fa'] | “Shit, baby, he looks so good. Doesn't he look good baby, our little pet, so hot and hard?” Jungkook's eyes flitted over me and I nodded encouragingly. This was new and exciting, but Taehyung was giving me control too, looping me in as we worked Jungkook together. “He deserves a reward for being so good, doesn't he? Yes, come on, pet. Come here.” Taehyung beckoned with his finger. I wanted to crawl right up in his lap too, but I knew I had to wait my turn. Jungkook was already tipping forward, on his hands and knees, crawling up to Taehyung.
“Do you want it, pet? Do you still want to suck my cock? You've been so good. I think you deserve it.”
“Yes. Please.” Jungkook was letting the words fall from his eager lips even as he was reaching hesitantly out to rest his hands on Taehyung's thighs once more. Taehyung smiled and nodded, his eyebrows raised appreciatively. It was all the encouragement Jungkook needed, sliding one hand up to Taehyung's hip and wrapping the other around Taehyung's length. Jungkook's mouth fell open and he swirled his tongue around the tip, sighing with pleasure as he did it again, eyes fixed on Taehyung's face as he wrapped his lips around and bobbed his head the tiniest bit.
“That's good, pet. That's very good.” Taehyung let his hand rest gently on the back of Jungkook's neck, not guiding or pushing, but softly reassuring. I'd been in that position so many times, face between Taehyung's thighs, his hand on my neck, his cock stretching my lips. I moved my own fingers faster, feeling how hot and wet I was getting just watching. Taehyung kept up his litany of praise and soon I joined him in telling Jungkook just how good he looked like this, skin glistening with sweat.
I knew how amazing it had felt to have Jungkook's tongue on me and I watched as Taehyung experienced that bliss as well, one hand gripping the sheet tightly as the other stroked Jungkook's hair. Soon, his praises became less eloquent and his mumbled curses more frequent as he got closer to the edge.
“You're amazing, you know that?” I said through my own gasps. “Keep it up, pet, you're going to make him come.” Jungkook's whimpers and groans were full of need and want. Each one sent an echoing shiver through me and I wanted to keep talking. I locked eyes with Taehyung, bringing my hand up to tangle in Jungkook's hair too. “Can you do that? Can you let him fuck your mouth, come down your throat?”
Taehyung let out a low groan and I knew it wouldn’t be long now, so I threaded my fingers with his and we both gently pushed on Jungkook's head as he slid down and down, his cute bunny nose looking sinful as it came to rest against Taehyung's belly.
“Fuck, pet, you're perfect,” Taehyung gasped and then he was coming, hips thrusting shallowly as Jungkook held him gently in place, licking and sucking until he was through. Jungkook sat up, going back into his kneeling position, smiling almost shyly as he looked back and forth between the two of us. “Good boy, my pet.”
“Yes, you did a good job. I'm so proud of you, pet,” I echoed, crawling forward to stroke his cheek. I looked up at Taehyung. “Tae, I want…” I swallowed hard. I was hesitant to ask. This was all so new, and we'd all been following Taehyung's lead.
“I know, baby. I know. Move to the edge of the bed.” I sighed and kissed him deeply before scooting over to sit with my legs hanging off the edge. “Alright, pet. Be good.” Jungkook looked back and forth, confusion wrinkling his forehead. “You're in charge now, baby. Call the shots.”
I smiled and crooked a finger. “Come here, pet. Be a good boy.” Still hard, still needy, Jungkook scrambled to his feet, standing in front of me patiently. “Look at you, pet. You've been so good, but you need some help, don't you?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Help me. Please.” I spread my legs slowly, reaching blindly back with one hand and grinning when I felt Taehyung place the foil package in my hand. We were on the same page here. We were working together to make the things we'd whispered in the dark a reality. Jungkook swallowed as his eyes followed my hands greedily. I tore open the package slowly then reached for Jungkook's hip, easing him closer until he stood between my thighs. He kept his eyes on me as I slowly rolled the condom down his length, biting back a groan as my fingers made contact.
“Be still, pet. Be a good boy,” Taehyung said from behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and I pressed a quick kiss on his knuckles before trailing my fingers up Jungkook's thigh. I leaned forward to kiss his belly button, flicking my tongue lightly and rubbing my breasts against the heat of his cock. This time he didn't try to contain his wanton moan.
“What do you want, pet?” I said, lips grazing his skin.
“I want you,” Jungkook croaked. The roughness in his voice thrilled me. I slid my hand lightly along his length.
“What do you want, pet?”
“I want you to fuck me.” His eyes were dancing back and forth between me and Taehyung. I asked again.
“What do you want, pet?”
“I want you both to fuck me.” His voice was quiet, but his eyes were bold.
“Good boy,” Taehyung and I said together. I gripped Jungkook's cock firmly, guiding him to me. |
18cda21c2fd34396a78aa8c1d5f3bcdb | ['d6aab38b78304a8ba82dc80e444c2c3d'] | We Will Love Her, Too
**Author's Note:**
> Part Five, hope you enjoy!
“Dad?”
The stairs creak as Katherine descends into the cellar, peering at her father in the darkness. He looks up guiltily from the thick book in his hands.
“Oh. Hello, darling.”
She sits next to him on the old couch. “What are you doing down here?”
“Your mother asked me to bring up the cherry pie from the icebox, but it’s already upstairs, so I…” he trails off.
“So you decided to hide down here and avoid Aunt Irma for a few minutes,” Katherine guesses.
He smiles. “Precisely.”
“I don’t blame you. She refuses to stop asking me about my work.”
“You love talking about your work.”
“Yes, with you, because you understand journalism and you support me now.” Katherine remembers how it felt before, tiptoeing around every subject and dodging each conversation, and therefore argument, about her career choice. She hates that her aunt sends her tipping right back into those old patters. “She keeps asking when I plan to stop acting like a modern woman and marry, settle down, and have children.”
“Did you tell her about Anne?” He shifts slightly. “Er, Smalls, I mean.”
Katherine laughs, and after a brief silence, her father joins in. “Right. Silly question. My sister barely liked your mother.”
“And Mama was perfect for you. She’s a wonderful woman, of course, but she was from a good family, and she never had to sell newspapers on the street-“
Her father’s brow furrows. “To feed herself and her family. Katherine, you aren’t taking your aunt seriously, are you?”
She sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Why on earth would you? Smalls makes you so happy.”
“She does, but she’s not the type of person I’m supposed to be with.” Katherine sighs again. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Her father looks at her closely. “Do you love her?”
Katherine thinks. She considers Smalls’ fierce loyalty and big dreams, her kind heart and quick wit. She pictures Smalls after a long day of work, tossing her double braids over her shoulder and laughing brightly. She recalls their first date, their first kiss, and, though she never mentioned it to her father, their first I love you. She knows the answer. And her father can tell, too.
“Then I’m sure we will love her, too,” he responds softly, pulling his daughter into a hug. | 6b5b4764ae764eec80004dc416830b84 | ['d6aab38b78304a8ba82dc80e444c2c3d'] |
"Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order--FUCK"
**Author's Note:**
> it has been a while tm since i've posted any fic (thanks college/internship/job!) but i came across this prompt by danydehaan on tumblr that was then posted by cupoftexts on instagram and i couldn't resist. so the prompt is
>
> "tumblr really likes that soulmate's first word tattoo thing but tumblr also really likes coffee shop AUs like imagine being one of thousands of people running around with 'welcome to Starbucks may I take your order' tattooed from birth going into a Starbucks like 'is it you????' 'nah bro I'm waiting for someone to order a grande skinny latte extra cream"
>
> and i'm throwing it at evan hansen and connor murphy. hope you enjoy!
Evan goes to Starbucks. It's his routine. Always has been, always will be.
It's not the best. He kind of hates it, really; he's never liked coffee in the first places and he thinks Starbucks tastes burnt. He much prefers Dunkin Donuts because there he can at least get a cruller. But that damn tattoo on his arm interfered--interfered with his routine, interfered with his breakfast, interfered with his whole goddamn life.
Like everybody else, he had been born with his soulmate's first words to him tattooed on his arm. But unlike everybody else, who had normal phrases like "hey, I'm whoever, nice to meet you," Evan had the mantra of thousands of baristas across the country: "welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?"
He'd thought about ignoring it, but he'd seen how things would end if he ended up with someone who wasn't his soulmate. His parents had gotten married out of desperation; they had never found their generic "nice to meet you!" and "sorry, I didn't catch your name" and given up, settling for each other. Until, of course, his dad found "sorry, I didn't catch your name" and left Evan and his mom.
Evan couldn't take that.
He also couldn't take being alone. It was hard enough during the hours his mom was at work and he was home from school, in his room with the silence echoing. A life of that? No, thank you.
So Evan went to Starbucks. Every morning, like clockwork, ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. Tall hot coffee. Tall hot coffee. Tall hot coffee. Day after day. Watching the baristas cycle in and out, glimpsing their forearms, always seeing something like a venti iced matcha green tea latte with almond milk instead of his order.
He was really close to giving up.
Jared seemed to think that he should.
"I mean, come on, Evan," he said one day over lunch. "Don't be an idiot. If it was going to happen, I think it would've happened by now. You've been going to that Starbucks every day for the past two years."
Alana definitely disagreed.
"Don't listen to Jared, Evan!" she exclaimed one day in the computer lab. "Statistically speaking, you probably haven't met your soulmate yet because you've been limiting yourself to one Starbucks at one time. Branch out! Try a different shift or a different location. And don't give up! For all you know, they could be at a Starbucks where you go to college, or in the city you're living in when you're thirty!"
Even though they were trying to help--or Alana was--Evan didn't exactly feel encouraged. But he tried. He went to Starbucks after school instead of before, to the one by the library instead of by his house, to the second cash register instead of the first. Day after day. Tall hot coffee. Tall hot coffee. Tall hot coffee. And nothing.
Senior year ended. Jared and Alana both went off to universities that, to hear them tell it, had Starbucks on every corner filled with eligible bachelors and bachelorettes for baristas. Evan stayed behind in their hometown, taking a handful of classes at community college and stocking shelves at Pottery Barn and determinedly going to the coffee shop with the smug mermaid logo.
Aside from his utter lack of romantic prospects, things are going pretty okay, he thinks one day as he's sipping his coffee. He's actually started needing it, between classes and long work hours, but it's worth it. He's saved enough money and gotten good enough grades to transfer to the state university where Jared goes. They're going to split the cost of an apartment and he's going to major in ecology and then maybe, since his luck seems to be changing, he'll come across his soulmate in one of those campus Starbucks.
Unfortunately, on move-in day, he's met with a horrific sight.
"Under construction, Jared?" he shrieks. "Construction? For how long? What am I supposed to do?"
Jared follows Evan's gaze out the window. There's a nearly perfect view of the Starbucks across the street, right between their apartment complex and campus, but it's surrounded by cranes and construction workers in bright orange vests. "Oh yeah." He shrugs. "Sorry, buddy. I forgot."
Evan flops onto his bed. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Calm down. There are plenty of indie coffee shops around here where you can get your fix."
"I mean my soulmate, Jared."
"I know what you mean." Jared sighs and sits down next to him. "Evan, listen. I know you want to find your soulmate and I get it. Being alone sucks. But it's not healthy to pin all of your hopes on one person. It's not fair to them or to you. So will you get off your ass and go try Don't Spill the Beans or something?"
Jared leaves.
Evan stares after him. Typical Jared. Caring and cadid.
Even though he's disappointed at the lack of a Starbucks, he does still want coffee. What had Jared just said?
He opens Google Maps and checks. Don't Spill the Beans is a five minute walk away, and the photos look cozy and calm. Better than Starbucks, actually. |
37edef2040e7480e8e012313787b13d5 | ['d6e497fc038f419c87500d0850c34cda'] | Phil smiled and looked at the floor, his hand running through his black hair. “Well, um… I guess that’s because it’s my private life and I’d like to keep that to myself.” He answered. That wasn’t completely true, he’d love to talk to them about Dan and tell them all about him, telling them how amazing he was and how much he loved him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell them. The world still wasn’t perfect and homophobia still existed.
“You can tell us Sir, we don’t mind!” Julia and a few other girls insisted and Phil laughed again, his face becoming red again. “Maybe another time,” and with that the ball rang. “Okay guys, see you all tomorrow!” He saw the class leave quickly and when he closed the door to the classroom he took his phone out of his pocket again; ready to call Dan.
The tube ride home seemed to be longer than normal, and Phil waited anxiously to finally get home. He couldn’t wait to hear the news, and since Dan didn’t want to tell him over the phone he still had no clue, silently hoping it was indeed the adoption form. With a pouncing heart he ran home and with shaking hands he fiddled with the key of their house.
When he opened the door he was greeted with a crying Dan who flung around his neck. “We are going to be parents!” He shouted, and Phil’s world stood still for at least ten seconds. Parents. “Phil, I got the letter, it’s really true!” Tears were streaming down Dan’s face and he waved with a thick paper, still holding Phil in a tight grip.
“O-Oh my god!” Phil could barely move his arms to wrap themselves around Dan, and he stared at the letter still not believing it. “P-Parents. Let me see, oh my god D-Dan! We are going to have a kid!” Tears stung the corners of Phil’s eyes and within seconds he was crying too. The two read the entire paper again and again, still not believing this was really happening. They had been waiting for this moment for almost a year and now that it was finally confirmed, it was hard do believe.
“I-I need to call everyone.” Phil rushed to the phone and they spent the rest of the evening calling up everyone to tell them the wonderful news. They forgot to cook dinner and eventually fell asleep on the couch, tightly embraced and both holding an empty glass of champagne.
The next day Phil was barely on time for the tube, and with all the news buzzing through his head he ran towards the school where almost all of the students were already inside.
“Sir! Sir! Tell us about the news!” The questions started before Phil could even sit down in his chair, and he grinned wide. Yesterday’s news might just be the best news he had heard in a long time. Well, except that time Dan agreed to marry him, of course. But it stood proudly in second place.
“Do you want me to tell you? Are you sure you can handle that?” He teased, his voice slightly shaking, and he smiled even wider. He was extremely happy and he actually couldn’t wait to tell them he was becoming a father. The class nodded frantically and basically begged him to tell them, so he sat down on his table and started telling his story, and he hoped his tongue wouldn’t slip.
“Well, when I got home yesterday there was indeed some very good news. And… Oh, how do I tell you guys this…” Phil scratched his forehead and looked at the class again, his smile unable to leave his face. “I’m going to be a father!”
The entire class started applauding loudly and they congratulated him, Phil’s smile couldn’t possible be wider and he felt tears of happiness in the corners of his eyes. “Congratulations sir!” The children wanted to hear more, but Phil was afraid of using ‘he’ instead of ‘she’ again and refused to tell more about it, much to the disappointment of the entire class.
When he got home later that day he and Dan went out to dinner, to properly celebrate the good news. Phil told Dan he wanted to tell the class about him when the baby was there, he couldn’t pretend anymore and he hated hiding. They just needed to wait for the best time to tell it, and Phil believed that time was finally here.
A few months later Dan and Phil’s household was expanded by a very tiny Bo-Liang. He was the sweetest child in the entire world and even though he didn’t look one bit like Dan or Phil, he was part of their tiny family. Bo was 3 years old and born with a fatal heart disease. His parents died in a traffic incident and the orphanage couldn’t afford to pay for the much needed surgery. They were almost going to give up on him, until Dan and Phil’s offer got through. Because of Dan and Phil’s adoption they were able to do the surgery that saved his life, and now the very healthy baby boy from Beijing was part of their family.
Phil was able to get a few weeks free from work to take care of him, and after those few weeks Phil sometimes forgot he wasn’t Bo’s real father. They spend every hour together and it felt like he had always been a part of their family, much to their surprise. Of course Bo had nightmares about his life back in China sometimes, but after three weeks of intense family bonding Phil was already called Papa and Dan was a Daddy. | df001cf6bed64d99b49e57bce0887c97 | ['d6e497fc038f419c87500d0850c34cda'] |
Mr. Lester's Husband
**Author's Note:**
> 4.4k words, extreme fluff
“Ok, listen up everyone!” Phil clapped his hands together and the class stopped chatting, the kids all looking his way. “Before we are watching the documentary on the cold war we still need to discuss last weeks questions. Mike, why don’t you answer the first one?”
Phil, in school known as Mr Lester, sat down in his chair and opened his textbook. His class of 15 year olds sat before him and he smiled, he was extremely happy with the bunch of kids in this class. Over the year he had developed a strong bond with them and he went to work every day with a big smile on his face. He was a fairly young teacher, and this was the first class he got to teach at Lakeside High, where he applied after moving back to Manchester.
Phil continued and while they went through the questions he dug up his copy of an old documentary he liked to watch with his classes. Suddenly Phil’s phone buzzed and his head shot up, completely forgetting phones aren’t allowed in class, even for a teacher.
“Sir, if we can’t use our phones in class neither can you.” Sam, a hyperactive kid who sat in front raised his hand and pointed to Phil’s phone.
Phil laughed but opened the text anyway, “It might be from home.” Phil mumbled, meaning it might be a text from Dan. His husband always had the habit of texting Phil whenever he needed something off his chest, and unfortunately these times were mostly during Phil’s classes.
Before Phil could read Dan’s text, Sam snatched it out of his hands and opened it, reading the text out for the entire class to hear.
“Hi love, I just wanted to say that I love you, plus I’ve got a surprise for you when you get home… Love you!” Sam read it out with a dramatic voice and the class started wolf whistling. Feeling his cheeks turn an awful shade of red, Phil quickly grabbed his phone back before Sam could read Dan’s name. The class cheered and Phil wished he could just be invisible right now.
“Ooooh sir! Is that a text from your wife?” A girl who liked to gossip asked and Phil almost burst out in laughter, turning even redder. He hadn’t had the courage to tell the class anything about Dan or even the fact that he was gay, just to be sure he didn’t get trouble with angry parents. He was fairly sure the kids would be okay with it if he told them, but because he had experienced trouble before he preferred not to mention it. So during all this time he had referred to Dan with ‘my partner’, or just ‘home’.
“It’s a text from home, thanks a lot for that Sam, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem Sir!” Sam responded and Phil laughed, quickly trying to change the subject.
They watched the documentary in silence, and as sneaky as Phil was, he took out his phone again when he was sure no one was looking and replied to Dan’s text.
‘What then, honey?? I can’t wait to be home either, kisses from the entire class xxx’ He typed quickly and put his phone away again, grinning widely. He ignored the few stares he got and focussed on the documentary again.
A moment later, during a quiet part of the documentary, Phil’s phone buzzed again, and all the heads turned his way.
“Read it! Read it!” The class chanted, after a loud protest Phil gave in and opened the text, too curious to leave it unopened until the end of class.
“I received some exciting news today!” He read it out, but he left out the next sentence, which was a little too erotic to read aloud. Phil bit his lip and he started wondering what the news might be. Without having any certainty, his mind drifted off to the letter they were waiting for, and maybe, just maybe that could be the news. Maybe they were finally adopting a child! Phil’s heartbeat increased at the thought and he stood in front of the class with a huge grin, not caring about the weird looks that he was getting or the documentary that was still running.
“What news sir?”
“Is she pregnant?”
Questions were being yelled throughout the class and Phil smiled at some of the most ridiculous questions. “Well I don’t know either, that’s why h-.” Phil’s eyes opened wide and his heart skipped a beat, “h- she said it was a surprise.” Phil felt the blood rush to his face but he managed to save himself, and luckily it looked like no one had heard it.
He tried to change the subject, and praying they didn’t notice he was starting to get pretty nervous, he played the rest of the documentary. With a sigh he looked at the clock and saw that they still had 10 minutes to go until the end, ten more minutes until he could call Dan… A kid, finally, God he hoped that was the news. They had been waiting for the confirmation letter for so long now, Phil was getting rather tired waiting for it.
The documentary ended with a lame quote everyone laughed at, including Phil, and 5 minutes before the end of class the screen went black. Fiddling with the loose strings on his button up shirt, he tried to think of something to do until the bell rang. Julia, a girl who was sitting in the first row, turned to him and, under loud protest of Phil, started asking questions about the texts again.
“Sir, why don’t you ever tell us about your wife?” She asked, and soon the other kids’ chatter vanished and they all looked at him again. He didn’t know what it was, but when teachers started to talk about their personal life they immediately became ten times more interesting. |
a195d69c51e244d99edfe0f8c1e73021 | ['d6eaa65e86a74b5cbcd1dd034afba72f'] | he's no longer with us, but he left this dusty room
on the first day, riku didn’t get out of bed. he lay on his side, silver hair spiraled out around him, and kept his eyes screwed shut. if he didn’t open them, maybe he wouldn’t have to face a world without him.
on the third day, someone pulled him out from beneath the covers of his bed. strong hands braced under his armpits, dragging his lifeless form to his feet. he staggered once, twice, before reluctantly prying his eyes open. lea’s twisted frown met his tired gaze as tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. lea’s whispered apologies echoed amidst the empty room. _ i’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to save him. _
on the fifth day, riku boarded the gummi ship. he arrived in radiant garden by noon, extended a hand for namine to take with her own. they road in companionable silence, her hand curved against his arm. she’d lost something, too. someone. someone who’d never really existed to begin with.
on the ninth day, riku went to corona. he laid down in the tall grass, arm covering his eyes, and let the silence envelop him. it was different from the darkness; it was warm, uninviting, and brought tears to his eyes. braveheart laid abandoned by his side. he doesn’t need it anymore.
on the ninth day, riku goes to the keyblade graveyard.
on the ninth day, he leaves braveheart behind in the dirt.
on the tenth day, he goes back and retrieves it.
he cries himself to sleep that night.
on the twelfth day, kairi finds her way into his room. she’s all wide eyes and apologies, her hands curling in the front of his shirt as she sobs. she’s sorry, he’s sorry. it doesn’t make either of them feel better. when they fall asleep like that, clinging to each other like the world is ending, riku wonders if they’ll ever feel complete again.
on the thirteenth day, he leaves.
he gets on the gummi ship, turns off his gummiphone, and leaves.
he visits all the worlds they visited. together, and apart.
he sees wonderland, the deep jungle, agrabah, the 100 acre wood, and halloween town.
everyone remembers _ him. _ they don’t remember him. some days he smiles, others he can’t bring himself to meet anyone’s gaze, but the scattered pieces of sora’s memories feel like the closest he’ll ever get to having him back.
he remembers being in sora’s dreams.
he remembers pulling him back from the edge, waking him up. saving him.
there’s no dreams to eat this time.
there are no nightmares because this is a nightmare.
on the eighty seventh day, riku returns to the islands.
he finds kairi sitting on the branch of a tree, her gaze watching the horizon.
he sits beside her. they don’t speak.
on the one hundred forty fifth day, riku can’t breathe.
he’s sitting on the beach, sand sifting through his toes, and he sees a visage in the distance that steals his breath away. he’s running before he’s even standing, stumbling blindly towards the water. his hands reach out to touch but come back with nothing but air.
whatever he thought he saw was gone.
he sinks down on his knees.
the spark of hope burned so bright, his fingers claw at his chest as if he’s on fire.
behind him, he hears kairi whisper, _ did you see what i saw? _
on the one hundred forty sixth day, riku and kairi go to the land of departure.
aqua meets them outside before they even hit the steps of the training area.
“ventus felt it too.”
ven is behind her, his gaze solemn. he nods, stepping aside so that xion can stand beside him. her hair is longer; it frames her face and hides her eyes. eyes that are too familiar, too painful for riku’s gaze to settle on. “ me too. “ she adds.
kairi’s hand reaches for riku’s.
she squeezes.
the hope sparks again, fighting to burn freely.
on the two hundredth day, they rest.
they’ve been training for weeks. something is coming, but the what is uncertain.
the message comes from yen sid, dropped into riku’s palm in a blaze of fire.
it burns his flesh but the message remains. _ verum rex. _
with new direction, braveheart lives again.
**Author's Note:**
> new fandom who dis. i say new fandom but i've been a fan of kingdom hearts for 15+ years. i've started a lot of fics and never finished them but this one is actually done??? i may do a series of drabbles set post KH3 but we shall see. | 3862e0679005423387b45c1a21f26857 | ['d6eaa65e86a74b5cbcd1dd034afba72f'] | “i don’t want that either.” is what he says instead, taking a tentative step closer. if there’s an abyss between them, his intention is to cross it; by any means necessary. “i just want you.”
sora’s eyes are bright. he can see his own illuminated in them, watches as his smile breathes the light back into him. “well, you’ve got me.”
everything blurs. sora is in his arms, then they are kissing. lips move urgently as fingers tear at clothing that needs to be gone, gone, gone. someone takes an elbow to the ribs. they laugh. they end up tangled together in front of the fire, sora’s head resting against riku’s shoulder as they catch their breath. the fire crackles and warms them, casting shadows over sora’s face.
riku vows to commit it to memory.
he’ll remember this day, this moment. this feeling in his chest that blossoms out. it invades everything it sees, showering it in warmth and comfort. this feeling - of being loved, of loving, is what you wish you could bottle up. something you can sip on your best days, and mourn on your worst.
it’s a feeling he can only associate with sora.
a feeling of finding his other half. of knowing that they are greater than the sum of their parts.
they talk for hours. they air grievances that remained unspoken, talk of hidden pains and insecurities that were never permitted to see the light of day. there’s a rawness, a vulnerability, that leaves riku shivering more than the cold air ever had. it’s honest and it’s painful but it’s right. they’re right.
sora’s imperfections, riku’s anxiety.
the things that held them together and threatened to tear them apart.
it’s not perfect but it’s right.
they talk through the day and into the night, until the sun streams in through the windows and rouses them from their slumber. it’s with a sigh that riku peels himself up off the floor, his back protesting in ways that his smile refuses to acknowledge.
he makes pancakes for breakfast and let’s sora add chocolate chips. they add whip cream and lose track of time when kisses turn heated and the pancakes grow cold.
eventually they hit the slopes, riku cheering and whistling with their friends as sora navigates the slopes with ease. they kiss when they meet at the bottom, cheeks flushed from the wind. riku’s smile remains a constant, even after being shoved backwards into the snow and tricked into making snow angels. with their pinkies linked, gaze meeting across miles of white, riku knows without certainty… there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
the key around his neck is a reminder. to protect the things he loves, the _ person _ he loves, and never lose sight of things that matter.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> thank you to everyone for sticking with me!! i can't believe this is actually finished. i am the queen of never finishing WIPs so i'm honestly pretty proud of this. if you want to scream about kingdom hearts, but tumblr url is the same as this pen name. |
042fd31a7a8c4f5286b5db81a2635286 | ['d6f0a9afe46d4757a7a04edf816b1995'] | Reasons
**Author's Note:**
> This is depressing. You have been warned!
"There are reasons for everything. I've noticed every reaction he has given me these past three years and I've treasured each one. I've always noticed the way he smiles and his eyes twinkled, but these past three months have been different and I could tell in his eyes, something was wrong. He just wouldn't tell his secrets.
I've asked him so many times. Dan always told me the same thing, "The more you fake a smile, the more it becomes true."
I told him that I hadn't understood, but he just shrugged and left it as it was. I wanted to push it. I should've pushed it, but I hadn't.
He left the Grumps. Shortly he left everything. I begged him to stay. I cried and begged. He was destroying himself and I hadn't known why. After he turned away from my pleading he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Everything will be better this way."
If I had known what he was planning, I would've stopped him, kissed those tears off of his face. I should've pushed it out of him because if I had, maybe he would be sitting on the grump couch right now, scrolling through his feed on his phone smiling his true smile at little things, but he left us.
He left us to drown. He drowned himself in pills and liquor. I wondered why, but I hadn't had the courage to speak up because I was scared. I hadn't wanted him to be mad at me, but that would've been better than where he is now.
I'm sorry, Dan. I should've pushed it. I wish you told me what was bothering you instead of writing it in blood and tears. I would've hugged you and kissed you. If I had pushed it, I would be snuggled up to my snuggle man right now, but I hadn't and I'm sorry for it. I love you, Danny. I wish you told me you loved me when I could feel the heat of your skin, instead of on a piece of paper covered in red. Instead of in a suicide note." Arin's rubbed at his reddened eyes. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he desperately tried to hold onto what he had right now. He wanted to make a mental image of what was left of him. He wanted to kiss Dan, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He looked at him, at his pale skin, blue lips, at his curly hair that shaped his face, then left. There are always reasons and this time he can't help but feel that he was the reason this time. | ec39f3daf9064a46bf14a9bc41fd51d7 | ['d6f0a9afe46d4757a7a04edf816b1995'] | Zipper
**Author's Note:**
> The sin bin is my favorite place.
It's a normal, boring day in the grump space. Apparently, they are doing a sketch today in the office, which Danny has no idea what it's for. He just wants to go home so he can go watch porn, or something worth his time, but he has to wait for Dan to drive him home. Danny groaned and sprawled out onto the couch, one of his legs were propped on the armrest and the other was on the black table in front of the couch. His junk was out there, considering that he wears spandex. Suddenly his ears perked up at the call of his name.
"Danny, can you help me with something?" Dan called out to him, from the grump room. Dan's head was peeking out through the door.
"Coming!" Danny jumped up, feeling happy he might have something to do now. He opened the door and proudly strutted into the room, "Whats up?"
Danny's eye's bugged out at the sight of Dan. Dan was wearing a short dress that fitted tightly to him. The dress was black and had a flowy skirt, that easily could ride up Dan's ass. "I need help zipping my dress up. It's stuck and Suzy left to go get her make-up." Dan turned around, showing his exposed back. Danny blushed and walked over, grabbing the zipper with his left hand and using the right to pinch just below the zipper. He slowly dragged the zipper up. This is intimate, way too intimate for Danny to do for one of his guy friends.
"There you go. Uhm. May I ask what this is for?" Danny ran one of this hands through his unruly hair.
"It's for the sketch. I'm the woman this time since Arin was last time. Arin was complaining, saying that he hadn't wanted to be a woman again so I took the responsibility. I mean, it's only fair." Dan turned around, pushing strands of hair out of his eyes.
"Well, you look nice. Not that I'm attracted to you or anything. I'm not gay. I'm making this worse aren't I?" Danny stumbled over his words, not trying to sound like a jackass.
Dan laughed, one hand went to cover his mouth and the other wrapped around his belly as he attempted not to fall over. "Dude! You sound like a teenager talking to a girl!"
"Well, thank you. I was trying to complement you." Danny grumbled, arms crossing over his chest.
Dan quickly noticed and smiled sweetly at Danny. His hands slowly reached up and cupped Danny's cheeks, slightly tilting his head up. "Please look me in the eyes, Danny?" DAnny's head lifted with Dan's hands and their eyes met with a steady gaze. "Thank you, that was really sweet of you."
Danny's face became redder by the second as their steady gaze continued. "I- Uhm."
Dan's smile grew ten times when he noticed how flustered Danny was becoming, after all, he's never seen Danny turned so upside down and he wondered for the first time, "How would he react if I kissed him right now?" He wanted to go in for the kill, but that would be rude, so instead he said, "Can I kiss you?"
Danny's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He was shocked, bewildered in fact. He wants it, but he doesn't want to admit he's gay. Maybe he should kiss him and then figure it out later? Fuck it. Danny closed his eyes and nodded. Dan slowly leaned in and his hands sneaked around to his back.
The kiss was sweet. He felt right like they were molded for each other and when they parted they went in for more as soon as they got new air. The kiss quickly became heated as their tongues melted together in a crazed haze. They were to engrossed with each other that they hadn't heard the door to the door to the grump office or the knock at the grump room. They heard the grump room door open with a loud booming voice and a slightly smaller one entering. Danny and Dan quickly separated to greet the gazes of Suzy and Arin. Arin sighed and screamed, "No fucking in the Grump room!"
**Author's Note:**
> I really like this pairing. <3 |
d0a7fe3785294d9d96cd4499f3716e2d | ['d6fdc895dc0947a0a79d9a0959963c0f'] |
Knight Watch
**Author's Note:**
> I haven't seen a female Lurien anywhere so I tried my hand at it.
> Hope this butters your biscuits as much at it did mine!
>
> BLOOMERS ARE HOT DON'T @ ME!
......don't do this.....
.....for the love of the Wyrm don't do this.....
The rational part of The Watcher's mind begged. She wanted to listen, but it was just too hard to ignore it any longer.
.....it's not worth it......
.....your gonna get caught......what then?.....
Her legs were wobbly as she carefully made her way through The Spire's empty barracks. The burning she felt was just simply to much to bear. She tried everything she could to get her heat under control. Hot baths, oils, incense, erotic novels, and lots and LOTS of simulation. Regardless of what she used, nothing did the trick like it used to. Just last year she'd been able to keep it down with some the aforementioned methods, but something was different this year, and she feared she knew the answer.
Her attempts at stealthy footsteps were coupled with her elegant robes shifting as she searched for any sign she wasn't alone. Lurien clutched the Pale Crest that dangled around her neck and whispering a prayer to the Wyrm for strength. She felt a stab of guilt at it's misuse, but continued on. The tall hallway held many doors on each side, most being used to accommodate her extensive security force. Some went to their bunks, a few went to the mass-hall, a good number went to private training facility's. However, there was only one door she was searching for.
......you'll loose your position!......the very place the King hand picked you for......
......are you going to throw everything away just for a peak?......
Her hand froze as it made contact with one of the large doors. This was it. The heavy shell wood door stood at an impressive height, but that wasn't much coming from the shaking Watcher. She stared at the symbol carved into the entrance, it depicted the kingdom's universal seal for Hot Springs.
She read the words inscribed under it.
*Watcher's Security Bath House*
*Any unauthorized entry will be punished up to the mercy of the King himself.*
*YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*
Being The King's Watcher did mean she was technically authorized anywhere within The Spire......
.....just because you can doesn't mean you should.....
.....are you truly this blind from your heat?.....
Even as she walked she could smell her own arousal wafting off her.
She feared the perfume and incense wasn't enough to hide her heat anymore so she made a great point to stay at a distance from any bug. She waved concerns about her condition as just sickness caused by the cold rain. If anyone had detected it they didn't tell her, and that terrified her.
She held her place for an unknown amount of time, trapped between her mind and her body. Her mind said for the thousandth time to just turn around, go back to the safety of her room, and handle her heat like she had for years. But her body said......no....DEMANDED that she go forward.
She looked left to right down the hall. Seeing no-one, she began to push the door open. As expected it was extremely heavy, and she had to use all her weight to even crack it open enough to see the light on the inside. Working in paper work all day doesn't cultivate strength unfortunately.
If she needed a quick escape this would certainly be a hindrance.
Not that her frail frame could harbor much power to begin with. Her kind weren't known to be skilled fighters. Even if one could learn the art of the nail they would still need layers of artificial armor in protect their soft shells, and that only compounds the problem. Before the time of the King her species relied on stealth and evasion to avoid being eaten by predators, as well as eager suitors, both male and female. But after The Wyrm's gift was bestowed upon the many creatures of the land, both big and small. Her kind taken on menial work among their stronger comrades. While a lot of bugs found their softness intriguing, humorous, or even attractive in some cases. Many found there presence nerve racking. Being around a bug with such a fragile body does nothing but send horrid thoughts of all the different ways you could accidentally harm them. From dropping a heavy object all the way down to a mere scratch.
These concerns weren't without precedence ether.
But, bless the King, they weren't left to be outliers in society. Where they lacked in strength, they gained tenfold in intelligence. The King never specified how equally he distributed his gift to his citizens, but The Watcher and her fellow soft shells had a suspicion this was by design to make up for their physical weaknesses.
The Wyrm's kindness knows no bounds!
......you disregard his gift for temptation fool!....
......if he could see you now he'd be ashamed.....
That wasn't true....
She didn't see anyone through the tiny crack, nor any shadows flickering against the walls or floor. Looking around again, she took a deep breath. She creaked the door open ever so slowly, gradually revealing the interior. Once enough room had been made, she stuck her head through. Her delicate heart pounded against her chest as she looked around the room, taking in every detail she could. | 87fd345d434e4152a6bd3e9e5983bded | ['d6fdc895dc0947a0a79d9a0959963c0f'] | The changing room was your standard fair, save for the large proportions. Well lit grey tiled walls and floors, many oversized stone benches, and most blaring of them all was the large open cubbys lining each wall. This part of the spire, much like the rest of the barracks, had been designed around utility instead of aesthetic appeal. The dark colors and gothic designs the kingdom was known for was painfully absent. This was in direct contrast with the world Lurien was usually surrounded with, furthering her feeling of being where she was not meant to. The alien environment did nothing but excite her more, feeding the adventurous part of her mind like with many of her novels.
Namely the ones she kept hidden under her cushion bed.....
Suddenly she heard something echo in the hallway, distant, but coming closer. She looked back down each direction like one of her panicked ancestors. The Watcher couldn't tell which direction it came from, unsure of what or who made it. Caught between flight or flight, she choose flight. With instinctual ease, she slipped into the room before whoever it was saw her. The hopelessly heavy door closed behind her with a dull thud.
She was inside.
She looked back at the door she entered through. To exit from this side one needed to pull a thick metal handle, which laid about at head height with the little Watcher. She wondered for a moment if she'd ever be able to accomplish that, foolishly assuming so without much consideration.
.....if you leave now you can still say you were just passing by......
......this is wrong and you know it.....
The option of leaving was temping, and she was right, this was wrong. These brilliant Knights had sworn their lives to her safety, and what was her thanks? Peeping on them while they were bathing like some degenerate. A brief moment of self-awareness washed over her.......only for it to be shoved to the side by her nature. The Watcher's instincts demanded that she find a mate, by any means necessary. At this point it didn't matter if it was even one of her kind, she needed whatever male she could find. And the closest and strongest males she knew dwelled somewhere in here.
Before she turned to search for her warriors she froze, a sudden musk slithered into her naval cavity, sending her tram of thoughts to a screeching halt. The crest trembled in her hands. The hormones filled her lungs before flooding into her bloodstream. Her whole body shook and quivered as the toxins spread their influence, almost making her cry as her nethers burned that much hotter. Even as the scent began to feel like it was too much she couldn't help but keep drawing long inconsistent breaths.
She could only describe the smell with only one word....
MALE
The Watcher looked around like a starving animal for the source of the heavenly aromas, eventually seeing the most likely of suspects. Within each cubby sat the freshly discarded gear the Knights had used in their training session from earlier. Lurien clutched the crest and fabric on her cloak as she approached the nearest section, which was labeled with one of her Knight's names.
"Yoh'gl" She whispered allowed.
The sense was so much stronger the closer she got, she could swear she felt heat emanating from the container. The Watcher's eyes were watering under her mask. In the cubby she saw a well worn set a training armor, the leather straps dangling carelessly from the sides. It was wider and taller then she was by a long shot, chipped and scraped from years of constant use. The moss covered interior appeared soggy, yet to be cleaned by the staff. Lurien felt envious of the cleaners work for a brief moment. The Watcher stopped at a few feet away from the armor. She would have gotten closer, but she feared she might pass out from an overdose if she did.
Visions swam in her head of her glorious protectors putting this equipment to work just a few hours prior. She remembered the fury and power they gave off while they exchanged blows to each other. The loud meaty cracks that rang as they curled in on themselves and tried knocking their opponent out of a ring, all while the booming voice of their commander jeered and derided their techniques and stances.
She wanted more....
She wanted it all....
She managed to tare herself away from the heavenly heap to make her way deeper into the facility, keeping an ear out for anything.
......they could come out any moment!.....
......what will your knights think having to serve a pervert?......
A pervert?
Was that what she was?
N-no. It's just her heat thinking and acting for her. If it were any other time of the year she'd be more then a be able to control herself! And if they did find her she was certain they would understand her situation and excuse her forwardness.
Right?
She carefully turned a corner, stopping as she saw the doorway into the shower proper on the left. The wonderful sound of water meeting shell and muffled talking echoed from the room. She could tell she recognized a few of the voices. Steam drifted from the opening, acting almost like a beckoning hand, promising unthinkable rewards for her bravery. Ignoring how most of those story's ended, she began her final approach. Each step felt like a marathon. She almost fell countless times as she moved, needing to lean against the wall to keep her trembling legs from collapsing into a soaking heap. If she faltered now, she might not be able to get up again. |
be618fa5ca9541abbd92180ef9df9c23 | ['d6fffbedc69d4e4e9ec302eb34db63b2'] | Only Whitebeard knew of his special condition, naturally. It was his only true weakness that was different from the usual Devil Fruit complications and Marco was not keen on being exploited by his family members who would no doubt give him a good teasing if they found out.
After Marco had eaten his Devil Fruit many years ago, it had taken him nearly a year of blundering about to discover that his phoenix form, though able to regenerate any wound, only worked as long as he recharged his life force yearly. He had figured out how to salvage his drowsiness that had increased a bit every day; reading about the legends of his creature from which he earned his name and experiencing personally how, at certain points during that first year, he felt an unexplainable attraction to fire.
After he learned to deal with that problem he had become an unstoppable force. As long as he followed a strict schedule.
The flight over the dark waters in the night sky was a short one. Despite the tiny bit of light the stars offered him he could see his target; a nameless isle that lacked a magnetic field. He flew low over the trees, looking for the clearing that he knew existed on this particular nameless isle. At last he found it amid a grove of fir trees and he alighted on a rocky outcropping, talons slipping over loose pebbles.
He had a few hours to himself before the sun rose and, with it, the pirates aboard the Moby Dick. He wished to make good use of those hours.
Marco set off gathering trees and sticks, dragging them up onto the rock to arrange them into a neat pile. This process of gathering and arranging, that others might’ve found cumbersome, was oddly calming for Marco who enjoyed the simple repetition. He didn’t know if it was nest making instincts that came from his Devil Fruit ability or rather the gathering instincts of early humans but he knew it felt natural to him.
The creation of a sizable nest took the better part of an hour. By the time he’d arranged everything just the way he liked it the sky was beginning to lighten. He hurried himself along at that point, pulling matches from his pockets and lighting the sticks and brush he’d accumulated. The wood was dry and the fire caught easily, spiralling into a hearty blaze in no time.
Immediately, Marco felt a sense of peace watching those flames shoot up and crackle powerfully. He let himself go and became a blue bird of legend. The fire, previously pulling upwards into the sky began to lean towards him, beckoning and grabbing at his feathers eagerly. Marco had always found the fire’s greedy pull amusing and danced around his nest to tease it. Soon though, something inside of his body, an awakened instinct that he repressed throughout the year became restless and tired of being dormant. He leapt into the flames, grasping with his talons the tattered and charred remnants of the forest.
The flames roved his body, engulfing him in warmth. Marco didn’t burn in the fire’s embrace. He wasn’t like any other creature. Really, he was fire itself and the fire accepted him as its own kin. It planted soft kisses on his feathers and gently crackled against his talons, massaging his tired being. That was the physical nourishment the fire provided the phoenix’s being.
As for emotional, Marco knew from many past experiences that he would be in a better state of mind when he left the island today. He would feel giddy for the rest of the day, brought on by the pleasure the fire provided for him. The happiness he gleaned from this yearly exercise would relieve any and all stress that had built up during the year. The fire would slip the worries from his shoulders. He would be light as a feather.
But it would take five nights of bathing in the flames to achieve the full effect.
Marco snuffed out the bonfire by covering it with his wings, patting it down into the earth with the promise that he would return again tonight. Only when he was sure the embers weren’t going to relight did Marco take to the sky once more, flying low over the ocean swells and back to the Moby Dick.
\--oOo--
Later on that same day when the sun rose completely overhead, someone followed Marco all the way from the mess hall to the Moby Dick’s figurehead. Marco didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind him, for he felt this particular person’s subconscious pull on him, so unique from all his other crewmates. It was the same pull that the fire he built yearly had, a pull that made Marco want to relinquish all restraint and give in to desire.
He couldn’t do that. Not now, not ever. Besides, Ace was just beginning to trust everyone. He had just ceased his attempts at his Pops’ life. Marco wouldn’t risk the precarious balance that had come about for his own wants. As the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard pirates, he wasn’t allowed to be selfish.
“Hey, Marco,” Ace greeted him softly, sitting beside the man on the expansive whale head that served as the ship’s bow. He sat a reasonable distance from Marco, though not too far as to appear suspicious or guarded in any way. “Can I ask you something?”
There was an undercurrent of nervousness in his tone that Marco picked up on immediately.
“You can ask me anything,” Marco replied with a smile on his face, sticking his tongue out a bit in hopes that it would make Ace feel more at ease. He liked that it was he who Ace always sought out for answers. It made him feel like a mentor to this younger man and he enjoyed the time Ace gave him out of his day. | 47cb2608920249928b861f41a78e436e | ['d6fffbedc69d4e4e9ec302eb34db63b2'] | They kissed lightly at first, gentle pecks on the lips until Marco found that Ace’s tongue seared heat into him in the best possible way. He set out to work on massaging the insides of Ace’s mouth, tempting the other’s tongue to interact with him. Ace was more than complaisant; he insisted more from Marco, grabbing onto the phoenix’s strong shoulders and thrusting his lower body against its significant other. Through all of Ace’s wriggling Marco became numbly aware that his jacket was no longer sitting atop his shoulders. The only reason he hadn’t been sentient of his naked state in the chilly night air was because of Ace’s hot conflagrations, rippling across the rocks around them. He felt no embarrassment, only a slight irritation that Ace still wore clothes in front of him.
Rather than completely undo the mess that was Ace’s oversized belt, Marco simply loosened the buckle a few notches and let gravity go to work. Ace’s baggy shorts slid off of him like water, the other stepping out of them and kicking the trivial fabric aside.
Marco felt Ace’s arousal firsthand against his own. He let his hands stray down to cup Ace’s buttocks, kneading the firm muscles there in his palms before experimentally parting the two fleshy globes from one another. With an impossibly low groan, Ace could only grip Marco’s shoulders to keep himself from falling over as he acknowledged that Marco obviously had experienced hands that knew how to touch him in the best possible way.
Ace found himself being first picked up and then lowered onto the rocky ground, the firm and obstinate earth creating dents in his back. Marco’s tongue left his lips aching, trailing fervent kisses downward. He spent ample time caressing not just pert nipples but the masculine ridges along Ace’s muscular chest, tongue delving into every crease on Ace’s body.
With astonishing alertness to the situation, Ace realized he didn’t want foreplay, at least not tonight. He pushed against Marco’s forehead, pushing him down further until blue flames licked appreciatively at his excited member. Marco eagerly licked at the engorged head, delighted that such a hot entity could be leaking wet fluids so freely.
Ace moaned loudly as Marco began to work him over frantically, throwing the back of his hand over his mouth to try and keep the embarrassingly weak and all too feminine cries from coming out. He wasn’t allowed to keep his hand there for long, as Marco caught on to what he was doing and snatched the offending limb away, pinning it to Ace’s side. Marco gave him a look of absolute rapture that stated he wouldn’t think less of him for behaving like an animal in heat.
Especially when that was just what Marco himself felt like.
Marco continued to bring Ace painfully close to his release, stroking his balls fondly and bobbing along his veined length. Just as Ace began sputtering about his inevitable climax Marco pulled away only to wet two of his fingers to hurriedly insert them into Ace’s entrance. They slid inside easily, moving past the ring of muscles that had become relaxed with the help of Marco’s ministrations on his erection.
Face contorting over the pain of Marco not allowing him to let go, Ace whimpered faintly. With his fiery abilities he hardly felt the penetration in his asshole nor did he get much feeling out of Marco’s fingers thrusting in and out rhythmically. He needed something bigger than fingers, even if they were deft and had found his sweet spot, eliciting from him delighted groans. Through heavily lidded eyes that saw nothing but blue and red fire mixing to make a bright violet hue Ace managed to ground out, “M-Marco. _Just do it._ I don’t need this.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed more than usual to showcase his worry and Ace chuckled a bit, the sound high-pitched as he was caught up in an inferno of his own making. “I’m fire, remember? I’m my own lubricant.”
Considering this for a brief instant, Marco grabbed hold of his own erection with fingers that were removed from Ace’s body. He trusted Ace’s judgement and positioned himself quickly, running his own dripping tip down the cleft of Ace’s buttocks until locating his opening.
He pressed in, just as hard and unyielding as the rocks that dug into his knees. Eventually Ace caved with a little groan and Marco fully sheathed himself inside his own personal burning firestorm, a cheeky grin making its way to his face. He looked down at Ace and found that his grin was matched, although there was more lust than playfulness in that smile.
Deciding that he would be unable to last too long embraced by the walls of Ace’s fire, Marco began to thrust so as not to waste precious time. At first Ace grunted as Marco’s balls slapped at him but soon such rough sounds filtered out to be replaced by delighted cries and moans torn from his throat as Marco picked up his pace. Ace rocked up against him with each rhythmic thrust, pressing his chest to Marco’s to try and get as close as he could to the one delivering his gratification. Sensing Ace’s primal need for closeness, the older man lurched forward, grabbing Ace’s shoulder with his teeth.
Feral as a wild beast, Marco bit down on Ace’s hot skin, coaxing the fire out from inside his pores to scorch his mouth. Ace cried out as any control on his Devil Fruit abilities became void. He was completely gone, flames lapping over Marco’s entire body and devouring much of their surroundings in an uncontrollable wildfire.
Marco pulled back for air, panting, “You like that?”
Wordlessly Ace nodded, not trusting himself to speak coherently. |
a899bda73e4d4ba38a40f1c058149b80 | ['d70706203b5f4bacbc4fcfbf20570f25'] |
(Mei POV)
You were laying atop the bed you share with your enormous girlfriend, Zarya. As of right now, she was laying down with you and snoring quietly. Whenever she fell asleep she seemed to be such a different person than most know her to be. So, naturally you decide to sneakily press your freezing cold hands right up against her spine, causing her to tremble and jolt awake.
“Mother of FUCK.” Zarya gasps out, shuddering and sitting up. You snicker, removing your hands to pull her close and peck her lips.
“Hey, chill out.” She rolls her eyes and gives your cheek a kiss, you gently press your lips to hers as she grins. You both give each other soft kisses, laughing. You slowly make your way down to her neck, your lips cold against her jawline as she shivers.
“Can’t handle the cold?”
“The cold cannot hurt Mother Russia, tiny ice cube.”
You grin climb up atop her to gently push her onto her back. Of course if she really wanted to fight your guidance she could, she’s got quite the upper hand on strength in this relationship. However, Zarya chose to simply lay back for you and quirks an eyebrow in suspicion.
“And what do you think yo-” You cut her off by placing a hand over her mouth, grinning.
“Shh, my blizzard is almost ready.” With a wild grin, you start to tug off her belt, working off her pants. Luckily, she does seem to get the idea and tries to stay put, albeit helping get off the annoying pants and shirt. Within a few seconds, she’s just chilling in her boxer-briefs, you had suggested them this morning when you two were dressing. You slowly pull off your sweater, slipping off your sweatpants as well. You had gotten dressed before her so she never did had the chance to see which panties you had chosen, she’s pleasantly surprised.
“Lace? How appropriate.” She snorts, as she gazes over the light blue laced panties and matching bra. She always has been quite jealous over how amazing you look in literally everything. Well, it’s safe to say that your rather impressive rack has to do with it, sometimes you have to get bra’s custom made. That’s how big your chest is, really impressive. Anyhow, enough with that discussion let’s get on with the fun times.
“Stop moving or I will have to freeze you.” You huff, crossing your arms as you straddle her hips. She takes the hint and stops trying to get up, you snicker. Reaching over her, you grabs a small blindfold from the nightstand. Her eyes widen slightly as you move to tie it over her, making sure she can’t see out the sides.
You shift to gently run your fingers down along her shoulders, pressing a few cold kisses to her collarbone. You watch her start to shiver, guiding her hands up to grip the headboard of the bed. She grips on tightly, swallowing hard as you slowly guide down her boxer-briefs and slip them off to be tossed with the rest of the clothes. You give her a few seconds to relax before you actually touch her, one hand reaching down to slip between her legs. Your cold hands easily find her entrance, not quite slipping one in yet, only teasing.
Grinning at her flushed cheeks, you remove your hand to reach over to grab Snowball and make some small ice cubes, holding them carefully. You very slowly run one along her hip, she jumps at the sudden temperature change, sucking in a breath. You drag the ice along her skin, making your way down to press it between her thick thighs. It doesn’t long for the cube to melt, you’re soon pressing your free hand back between her legs with one more cube. The ice slips along her clit, sliding down to slowly press inside. She bites her lip, despite her early statement, she really couldn’t handle the cold.
Carefully, you adjust to get one of her legs bent up to spread her just a bit more. You take yet another cube far too soon, pressing it directly into her with no warning. She gives a choked moan in surprise, shuddering. You quietly shush her, pressing a kiss to her stomach. You brush your thumb up along her clit, slowly giving her a few soft, teasing rubs. However, you soon move away so that she can’t grind against your hand, so needy.
The ice cubes seemed to be mostly melted by now, creating a small, cold puddle between her legs. You snicker, reaching over to grab your gun to very carefully create an icicle. You set the gun back down and carefully take the icicle. You lick the pointy side to get it more dull, not wanting to hurt her. Slowly, you press the tip of it into her. At first she’s confused when it seems to be much larger and longer than the cubes, but she soon realizes. Panting softly, she swallows hard and spreads her legs just a bit more.
The icicle is soon deep into her, slowly melting inside her warm body. She shudders and tries to press her legs together but you stop them, pressing a hand to her knee.
“Open your mouth.” It takes her barely a second to register your command, her mouth falling open, tongue sticking out. You move up and turn around a bit, slowly you shift to sit and position your clit right atop her tongue. Naturally, your panties are still on however, that just means she’ll have to work for it more. She sucks at you through your panties, tongue pushing up to where she hopes your clit is. Her legs have closed more during this, most likely trying to keep the water inside but no, we can’t have that.
“Keep your legs spread, babe.” You gently reach down to tap her thigh, she groans underneath you but does spread her legs back open. The puddle under her has slowly grown, you’re quite proud. You decide to give a little reward, slipping your panties off enough for her to actually please you. She gladly takes the initiative, strong hands spreading your thighs apart, tongue pushing up and lapping along your clit. You give a few sweet moans, panting quietly as you roll your hips.
She desperately tries to get you off, sucking and lapping at your entrance. You groan, gasping as she sucks at your clit hard. You shudder, gripping at the sheets on either side of you. A few moments later, you’re cumming onto her tongue, clenching up and choking on a moan. Panting hard, you try to catch your breath as you shift to sit more on her chest, don’t wanna suffocate your girlfriend with your vagina. Well, yet anyhow, you laugh at the thought before moving to lay down beside her.
“Are you going to get me off or shall I crush your face with my thighs?” She says after a minute rest, you ponder a little before responding.
“Take the ‘fold off and sit on my face.” You barely make the words out before she’s tugging the blindfold off and climbing up to straddle your face. She gives you a grin which you return, spreading her thighs with your hands to start lapping up at her. She gives a relieved sigh, rocking against your mouth. You press your tongue up against her clit to rock against, she shifts a bit to pin your hands up. You struggle a little as she holds you down, thighs clenching above you as she grinds on your tongue.
“Nnn..that’s it almost there.” She moans, gasping as she ruts harder. You suck, tongue lapping at her clit as much as you can. It takes only a couple more seconds for her to cum, clenching hard as some water drips down onto your face. You pant hard as she keeps you in place, gently lapping up what you can. After a few solid minutes of resting, she moves off of you to allow you to breathe.
Sighing happily, you pant as she moves to spoon you in her large arms. She tugs you close, arms wrapped around your middle as you both begin to drift off. Zarya presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, tugging the blanket up over the two of you. It doesn’t take you long to fall deep asleep. | 0a3d95be349748cf84be35a1cbbb942c | ['d70706203b5f4bacbc4fcfbf20570f25'] | Your hand twitches, trembling as you try to stop thinking. You can't let the voices make you do anything while Mako is here, he'll get worried. He can't know. You take a few deep breaths, trying to stop listening. Why don't you just do it already. You already know that you will, even if Hog is just a room over. You're shaking now, biting onto your bottom lip as you shakily reach up to the cabinet.
You fish out the familiar object, a clean pocket knife you'd had for years. You flick it open, the blade shines in the dim light. You take a few breaths, gripping the handle. You're already crying when it's brought down against your wrist.
They aren't as bad as you'd thought. A thin line of blood drips from the cut to the floor. Shit, you'd better clean it up. Sighing, the fresh cuts sting against the air as they slowly bleed. There's no point in hiding them, you bet Mako already knows. It doesn't take you long to clean up, a thin layer of bandages wrapped around the cuts.
Sniffling a little, you manage to get up from the floor and head back to your room. He's still sleeping, snoring softly and mumbling nonsense. You wipe at your eyes a little more, nudging your way back into his arms and trying to hide against his large frame. You honestly don't want him to ever wake up.
3. That's what matters.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> You weren't able to get back to sleep.
You weren't able to get back to sleep, the dull pain of the healing cuts was enough to keep you up. Sighing, you press closer to him and just try to relax. He stirs a little, causing you to tense. Shit, he's awake. You swallow hard as Mako reaches a large hand to pat at your head.
"What is wrong?" You can feel the rumble of his voice, head pressed against his chest.
"Nothing." Bullshit. He knows something's up with you.
"Tell me, rat." There's no hiding now. You sniffle a little, holding up your wrist for him to look over. He gently holds your arm, peeking under the bandages to judge before sighing and setting your arm down. You immediately curl it back between the two of you.
"Are ya mad?" You manage to make out, the guilt thick in your throat.
"No." You know he is. You fucked up. This is your fault. You shift a little to sit up, going to stand but you're stopped. He tugs at the back of your shirt to prevent you from standing, getting up himself. Makon walks around the bed to face you, you don't dare look up at him.
"Rat, look at me." You can't. If you move you'll break down.
" _Jamison_." Shit he used your first name, he's really pissed off. You're absolutely fucked. He's probably going to kill you now. Yep, this is the end. Good bye cr-. Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden hand tilting up your face.
Tears poke at your eyes, slowly dribbling down your cheeks as you glance up at him. He's studying you, kneeling down to meet your eyes. You hate it when he does this, being so nice and gentle that it makes you want to cry.
"I love you." The words ring in your ears, repeating over and over. His other hand is pressing into the small of your back, gently pulling you close. You just let it happen, slumping forward into his arms.
"Breathe." You didn't realize you had forgotten to, sucking in a large breath. He loves you. He _loves_ you. He's rubbing your back, hands gently working against your skin. It's too much. You can't handle it. Tears pour down your cheeks, trembling against him. You're so weak. He's so strong. You're disgusting. He's perfect.
Gradually, you begin to calm down to let him hold you. Your head aches, eyes stinging, yet you feel content. The only thing that matters is him. They way he breathes, the way he holds you close to his chest. The way he hums to calm you down.
You're happy right now and that's what matters. |
4f3f8c2bdf4f4622ad1b8f414a9e0eff | ['d7172ea589c542c5aae4acdb23695248'] | Watching the interaction Conner felt a strange feeling build up in his chest he quickly recognized this feeling it was the feeling he got when Superman ignored him with days on end, when everyone was out with their mentors leaving him with only Wolf and his thoughts for company and the feeling got when he once saw Batwoman hug Nightwing.
They had just accomplished a recent missions although they had won Nightwing was the most hurt putting himself in the line of danger for the sake of the mission. Once getting his wounds looked at Batwoman had slid into the room to talk to him, Connor had hid outside the medical room door with a crack open giving him enough view, when she thought they were finally alone she hugged Nightwing to breast protectively much the lioness he just watched.
After watching what was to be a private moment he suddenly got the feeling that he shouldn't be there before quickly running down the hall and locking himself in his room. It d taken two hours of convincing with _'Are you OK's'_ and ' _what's wrong?'_ from the team before he came out of his room never giving them an explanation.
Something had awoken in him that night something he still couldn't understand Conner often imagined himself on the other end of Batwoman's hug and what it would feel like. He often watched teen T.V sitcoms that involved teenagers his age whose only problems were finding dates in time for prom.
Conner wondered what it would be like if his life was like that with real parents that paid attention to him and worried for his safety the main parent of his choosing had always led to Batwoman.
Conner felt or at least wanted a special connection to her much like the one she has with Dick. She had always been look out for him in any sort of way, like when Dick had accidently let it slip that Batwoman had talked to Superman for him in hopes of them talking and forming some sort of bond or when he sometimes found a bag of new clothes in his size in his room on his bed the color schemes were always the same dark red or black or sometimes brown. The only sign that even showed it came from Batwoman was the ever present Bat signal in front of the bag.
Getting tired of watching T.V he didn't bother looking for dinner as he half dragged himself to his room closing the door behind him hopefully things will get better soon.
… **..At a private spa in Greece…. 3:00pm**
Looking around her hotel room from her spot on the couch Brianna couldn't help but get a dreadful feeling in her chest placing a hand over her heart it was usual the feeling she got when Dick, Jason and Tim were in danger. Dick had often joked that her Momma Bat senses were tingling and some poor child most likely needed saving.
Of course over looking his jokes Brianna had learned to trust this feeling it was feeling that brought Dick to her just after his parents died that night at the circus and what brought he to Jason and Tim making her family bigger filling the empty void in the Wayne mansion.
Sensing his master agitation and slight disturbance Ace the Wayne family's Great Dane lifted its head from her lap and looked up at her with curious eyes. Petting his head for reassurance that she was alright Brianna knew for a feeling that something was wrong with Conner be it emotionally or physically a thousand miles and an ocean away she knew something was wrong.
Making note to call her lawyer later on adoption papers she knew it was going to pretty hard to adopt a kid with no social background what so ever or even a birth certificate but he would be worth it in the end they all were.
**To be continued...**
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**Please Review**
4. Money Problems
**A/N: welcome back to 'Momma Bats do you love me?' hope you all enjoy this chapter you're reviews mean so much. P.S why Diana gets catty over Batwoman. i own nothing but the plot.**
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No One's P.O.V
**: At the Watchtower 8:00pm:**
It was another night at the watchtower or so it would seem the six leagues were all on edge as they sat in the in the meeting room no one dared to speak everyone already knowing where the others stood. The members were divided equally on either side of the table Martian Manhunter, Hawk girl and Superman on the right with Wonder Woman, The Flash and Green Lantern on the left. There was only one empty seat at the head of the table it was Batwoman's, the empty seat seemed to mock both sides of the table for different reasons
Clark deciding to cut through the silence stating his opinion on the matter at hand once more "We should just call her already it's only chose we have."
"There is no shame in asking for assistance. Brianna has left a prepared number for us in these types of emergencies" J'onn spoke Shayera nodding her head in agreement.
The other league members thought otherwise
"No offense J'onn but I don't think we're talking about the same Batwoman here this is the Batwoman that had readied plans to KILL US!" Hal countered shouting.
"Those plans were only made to neutralize and you know it, besides stop trying to change the subject" Clark defended, sure he had been pretty peeved off when he found out about Batwomans back-up plan but when he had cooled down and thought about it he understood why she did it. As the only human on a fully powered team she had every right to have defenses in case one of them ever turned on her and the league. | fea2387455954856a633c56b00408043 | ['d7172ea589c542c5aae4acdb23695248'] | Sitting down now at the Wayne family table as they just served dinner Conner couldn't believe how happy he was. Dick and Jason had quickly shown him the ropes in how the common boy acted from right to wrong to today's use of slang and mannerisms.
His favorite person to spend time with other than Brianna was Tim he was always inviting Conner to sit and watch Sesame Street with him and play with the young four-year-olds action figures. The two were often found by an old swing set that had been on the family grounds since Brianna was born. Tim cheering for Conner to push him higher while Conner enjoyed the brotherly bond they shared someone who wasn't afraid of his strength and didn't treat him differently.
Conner knew he would be eternally grateful for all the things Brianna had done for him especially when it had come to confronting Lex Luthor it was a moment he would never forget.
… _.Flashback…._
_It had been two weeks since Brianna had taken him in and he had already told her his greatest secret. No matter how hard he tried the guilt and lies had eventually gotten to him and after dinner in the Bat cave he had told and shown her the Shields and who he had gotten them from. He had expected Brianna to be furious with him, take back her promise and possibly kick him off the team but instead she simply hugged him and told them how trying to live up to everyone's expectations can cause confusion and result's to desperate measure's and that everyone tends to stray from the path but that the good thing was that he managed to admit his mistake and tell her about it. It then did he give all of the 'shields' for her to examine and afterwards the two had come up with a plan to return them to Luthor and get the message across that he didn't want or need them anymore._
_It was the plan that brought them here now_
_Standing on the docks of Happy Harbor looking out at the ocean Conner patiently waited for 'him' to arrive. This was just like how he and Brianna planned it, looking over in the darkness of an abandoned building he knew Brianna was there in the Tumbler Batsuit on ready in case anything happened. Turning his head heard the rumble of a car engine as the limo came to a stop he waited for the man he who made up half his DNA to step out of the car._
_Once Lex stepped out of the car he quickly greeted Conner with a crooked smile on his face._
" _Ahhh Conner so good to see you again, come to ask for more of these?" he questioned lifting the small lead box up to Conner revealing more 'Shields'._
_Stepping back an inch he shook his head and dug his head into his pocket tossing the un-used 'shields' into the box at Luthor._
" _No I came to return these and to tell you that I don't them and I don't need you" his tone was even as he stood brave and tall in front of Lex._
_Laughing at what he thought was a joke Lex proceeded to move towards him only to be stopped short by Conner looking at the hand that had a firm grasp on his shoulder and the face of Conner he chuckled quietly to himself as he shrugged the handoff._
" _Oh, I see you think that now that Brianna's taken you in you can just toss me aside. No Conner that's not how it works I am your father and you will do as I say! He commanded._
" _You're not my Dad!" He shouted "We may have the same genes but that doesn't mean you're my father never were never will be" he confirmed._
_Placing his hands behind his back Lex paced calmly in front of him. "I wonder what mommy dearest would have to say if she found out that her new son was actually a clone of the world's strongest man" he threatens._
" _You wouldn't" feigning shock Batwoman was no doubt listening in on the conversation, and he still needed to play his part. Brianna had told him that Lex had no idea that she was Batwoman and that made his threat invalid and them always one step ahead._
" _Oh yes I would, what's it gonna be Conner," he said his head held out for Conner awaiting his answer._
_Steeling himself with a mask of indifference he gave his answer. "I'll take my chances" pushing Lex's offered hand aside._
_Face twisted in obvious anger he marched back over to climb into his car but before he could drive away he rolled down his window and spoke to Conner once more._
" _Don't think this is over once Brianna realizes the truth you'll come crawling back they all do" with that the car speeded away leaving him once again by himself_
_Looking in the same direction the car sped off to he soon felt a leather-clad hand on his shoulder knowing who it has he put up no resistance and leaned into the touch for comfort._
" _You did well, I'm proud of you," Batwoman said her face gracing a gentle smile._
" _Couldn't have done without my great teacher" smiling back at her_
_No words were said as the two walked hand in hand to the tumbler and made their way back to Gotham._
… _End Flashback…_ |
5a8c50a41407473ba87a2d73debffca0 | ['d718dd2f6ee34c7fa5a2ea664305822b'] | Asuka leaned over to try and see what was going on, what had changed, but because of their awkward seating arrangement, her view of her friend was blocked. Instead she turned her eyes on Shinsou.
He reclined in his seat as if there wasn’t a worry in the world. That neutral expression was still plastered on his face, and at this point, Asuka could almost say with confidence that that was Shinsou’s trademark look. She had a feeling that tickled the back of her mind and twisted her gut in that weird way when something was off as she eyed the boy across from her.
He’d done something, but she didn’t know what.
Asuka swallowed. “What was that?”
“She was getting too worked up. If it went on any longer she would have lashed out at someone,” Shinsou replied.
“Is she gonna be okay?”
Shinsou looked over to the chaotic mass of students that were still pushing and shoving against one another as they scrambled for the exit. “As soon as that fixes itself, probably. She can yell at me for this later; I don’t care. I just needed her to shut up for a bit.”
Asuka winced. That was one way of putting it.
“Hey, Asuka!” Hirama called from her side. She turned her attention to him. “Shizuka isn’t saying anything. She won’t do anything!”
Asuka opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off.
“Don’t worry about it, trust me. Just let her sit there and don’t bother her,” Shinsou ordered. He grumbled something else, but Asuka couldn’t catch the words in time.
“What? What do you mean?” Hirama pushed the subject.
“Hirama...just...trust him okay?” Asuka replied.
The two looked at each other and Asuka couldn’t help but feel a little bad about the situation. Shizuka and Hirama had been friends for many, many years prior to meeting her. Asuka knew she was asking a lot for him to just disregard his concern in favor of trusting what was basically a stranger. She wasn’t sure if Hirama had caught on quite yet to what was happening, but given his reaction, the boy was in the dark on this one.
“Shinsou said she’ll be okay if she just sits there and we wait for this all to blow over,” Asuka reassured him.
“But...”
“She’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Besides, would you rather be out there?” Asuka nodded toward the mass of students.
“I...I guess not, no. I can’t leave Shizuka here and I can’t drag her through the crowd like that.”
“A good chunk of them are probably heroics students. Give them some time to get their heads on straight so they can play hero and diffuse the situation on their own,” Shinsou added. Asuka was amused that his opinion of the heroics students had changed so drastically.
Hirama was silent before he nodded and relented his concern. He fell back into his seat and stayed close to Shizuka. Asuka felt it best to leave him be and slid out of her seat. She walked over to the nearly empty side where Shinsou sat and placed herself next to him.
“Come to keep me company, birdie?” he joked. That cattish grin was on his face.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted.
Shinsou chuckled.
Asuka played with the hem of her skirt. She found herself unable to focus on anything. Her eyes darted from spot to spot. At one point, she glanced at Shizuka and Asuka nearly jumped at how _ strange _ her friend looked. The other girl appeared lifeless, with slumped shoulders and blank expression. There was no color in her eyes, just a void of white.
_ A quirk? _ Asuka thought as she stole a glance at Shinsou.
Before she could dwell on it further, the noise level diminished suddenly. The change was stark enough to grab her attention and incentivised her to turn her head toward the main exit. From her seat, it was difficult to have a clear view of what was happening, but Asuka could make out one voice that echoed over the now silenced mob. She couldn’t make out the words, but the speaker sounded authoritative. A teacher, maybe?
The students that were packed together began pulling away from one another. There were soft murmurs that rippled through the crowd as people began to disperse back into the cafeteria. Asuka blinked. Whatever happened, it seemed the crisis had ended.
“That’s it, then?” Shinsou asked.
“Yeah...I guess so. The emergency might be over?” It was more a question than a statement.
“Either that or they realized the ‘emergency’ wasn’t as big as they thought.”
Asuka hummed at his words.
“Crisis over. You’re fine now,” Shinsou said to Shizuka.
Asuka turned to her friends across the table and watched Shizuka come back into herself. The color returned to her eyes and she replaced the blank look for a confused one. “Huh? What’s going on?”
“Shizuka!” Hirama exclaimed.
“Satoshi? Where are we?” Shizuka muttered. She was still groggy from whatever she’d shaken off.
“Still in the cafeteria,” Shinsou answered.
At that, Shizuka’s head snapped up. “What?!”
“It’s okay, Shizuka. I think the emergency is over now. The crowd’s breaking up,” Hirama said as he pointed to the thinning group of students clustered by the exit.
“What? But just a second ago everyone was screaming! I don’t...remember anything...” she trailed off, looking utterly puzzled.
“Shinsou helped you calm down. You were getting kinda panicky yourself so he helped you through the emergency,” Asuka said.
Shizuka leveled her with a stare. “What?” she asked.
“He helped you.”
Shizuka looked from Asuka to Shinsou. Her eyes bore holes into Shinsou, but she eventually relented with a scoff.
“You know, usually people in your situation say--hmrph--” | 738bf86f454348cf8fbccd28c509b8d4 | ['d718dd2f6ee34c7fa5a2ea664305822b'] | "Yeah um, more or less. It's...got its ups and downs."
"Neat! I'm Hirama Satoshi by the way! Nice to meet you!" His introduction was accompanied by a small bow as he flashed another grin..
"Sasaki Asuka," she replied as she returned the bow.
"So since you're a bird does that mean you can fly too?"
As they talked, the door opened and closed a few more times. The volume of the classroom began to rise as more students trickled in. "Yeah. I had to learn how to fly though. I wasn't born with the aptitude to just do it."
"That’s neat! Sounds like you have a really good quirk. What’re you doing in here then? You’d seem like a perfect fit for the Heroics Department."
And there it was.
Her feathery tufts drooped and she bowed her head. She tugged on her sleeve before slipping her fingers past the fabric to scratch her smallest feathers. "Ah...well--"
"Satoshi! Are you bothering people again?" A girl's voice interrupted the exchange. Hirama jumped back from her desk, hands up in a defensive gesture. A girl with long, sandy blonde hair approached the duo with her hands firmly planted on her hips. She didn't appear to be very happy, but her ire was directed entirely at Hirama, if her narrowed eyes were anything to go by.
"N-no! Of course not! I'm just mingling with new people!" Hirama sputtered.
The girl crossed her arms over her chest and leveled him with a glare. "Uh-huh. You're probably asking intrusive questions to go along with that, aren't ya?"
Hirama fumbled for a response and ran his fingers through his short hair. A few failed attempts later, he dropped a nervous laugh before growing quiet. With a roll of her eyes, the girl turned away from him and focused on Asuka. "Don't be afraid to give him a good smack if he's bothering you!" She emphasized her words by punching her fist into her open palm.
"Sh-Shizuka!" Hirama stammered.
"I'm Kamei Shizuka. Please call me Shizuka."
Asuka bowed her head. "Oh, um...okay. I'm Sasaki Asuka." She wasn’t as open as Shizuka was with her greeting.
A quick glance around the room revealed that most of the students had arrived. Class was only a few short minutes from its official start. The last of the stragglers had arrived - some were out of breath, others weren’t. Asuka faced forward once more as Hirama and Shizuka made their way back to their own seats. Neither sat near her.
The once empty desk in front of her was promptly filled by a boy with wild purple hair. Asuka could only count her blessings that he wasn't any taller or else the blackboard would have been obscured by his unkempt mane.
Twenty five minutes after eight and the door swung open a final time.
"I'm sure you are all eager to be here, but it's time to settle down." The man that entered the room greeted his class with a calm voice and welcoming smile. There wasn’t any hint of agitation in his words. He walked across the room to his podium and set down a book.
"So many new faces. Let's make it a great year, shall we?"
Asuka was comforted by the fact that her homeroom teacher had an unusual appearance. He was tall with grey skin and a very distinguishable rectangular head. He lacked any kind of formal wear, so she could only guess his plain looking brown suit was his hero attire. He didn’t look familiar in the slightest, but Asuka had always been poor about keeping track of every hero that entered the public light.
"My name is Ishiyama Ken and I will be your homeroom teacher for the year. Ah, but you’re more than welcome to refer to me by my hero name as well - ‘Cementoss!’" he punctuated the greeting with another warm smile.
Even if the rest of her day didn't end up being perfect, Asuka was glad that, at the very least, her homeroom would be enjoyable.
The highlight of her homeroom experience was the quick introductions Cementoss had encouraged them to do where Asuka had stumbled over her words. The introductions were simple enough: name, likes, dislikes; the kinda stuff she’d parroted numerous times over several years of schooling. She breathed a sigh of relief when their teacher didn’t push them to talking about their own quirks. Asuka avoided that topic like the plague and noticed she hadn’t been the only one to do so.
The purple haired boy was one of maybe two others that had chosen not to talk about their quirks.
Following that little morning activity, the class was lined up and ushered toward the entrance ceremony and orientation for the brand new year. Principal Nezu was the main speaker for both as he addressed the student body with a long-winded speech. To Asuka’s absolute delight, the principal wasn’t human at all. He was a short, white animal clothed in professional attire fit for his position. His origins were difficult to place as she couldn’t tell if he was more mouse or bear.
The morning was halfway over by the time the excitement had died down and the students were allowed to return to their normal classes, though ‘normal’ was a bit of a stretch.
Classes were short and simple for the most part. Asuka wasn’t sure if the ease of her first day was chalked up more to it being the beginning of the year, or that the morning ceremonies probably went on longer than they should have. Either way, she was glad for it.
She wondered if the Heroics Department had the same luxury. |
35246dcade4a4aeabec26d45bac302d7 | ['d71918532c8c48cc86605f904f24670e'] |
1. Meeting the Vixen
**Author's Note:**
> I'm trash at writing fanfics but this wouldn't go away.
>
> Note: Don't be a creep like Levi. Not cute in real life.
There is no fucking explanation for why there’s a person in this apartment when there should not be.
When shitty glasses told me to come to their apartment to pick up their notebooks hiding in their shithole place, they didn’t tell me someone one else would be here. Had I known some _fuck_ was here, I would have refused their request and told them to sit on a stick. The bitch knows I avoid interacting with others any more than the bare necessity but it looks like that worm _conveniently_ forgot to mention anything.
Even from here by the door frame, I can hear loud ass snores coming from the couch facing away from me. A single, tan hand is hanging off one arm of the couch, while two sock-clad feet are dangling off the other. My hand grips the doorknob of Hanji’s front door, threatening to slam it shut and forgot about retrieving jackshit but I decide I’m already here, so fuck it.
Closing the door quietly, my feet are soundless as I creep closer to the sleeping person, ready to peep at whoever the hell Hanji had at their place. I won’t deny that I’m curious to see what _dumbass fool_ would willingly sleep anywhere near their messy apartment. Just being this deep for this long (with each passing second I can feel the uncleanliness of their place getting to me) was pecking at the back of my mind, the amount of clutter and invisible dirty air particles causing my teeth to clench. I have to make an effort to ignore the dirty dishes on the coffee table and the piles of unwashed clothes carelessly thrown to the floor.
Slightly leaning over the back of the couch, I have no time to prepare before my brain fucking short circuits.
The young-looking boy below me is indecent. That’s the only fucking thing my brain can think of. He’s on his stomach, his - not quite a baby, yet not quite a man - face resting on one cheek, an arm tucked under him, messy brown hair fanning around his head, a white blanket pooled around his calves. That’s not what makes my breath hitch or my eyes widen to fucking dinner plates.
It’s the fact he’s in a pair of lace panties, showing off a fine, young, _juicy_ looking ass. The panties only cover half his ass and they’re light pink. Never before in my goddamn life has the color pink given me heart palpitations. Never before in my life has my dick hardened this quickly or my hands itch to grab a cheek of something delicious, but there’s a first time for everything, right?
The boy on the couch is still asleep, completely unaware of what a _creep_ I’m being by just standing over him, practically salivating, wondering if he’s old enough to be legal. It isn’t until he starts to stir slightly that I jerk away from the couch and dart as quickly as I can into the kitchen in the adjoining room.
With my back to the yellow wall and a hand running through my black hair, I peer around the doorway to see if the kid’s awake, sighing in utter fucking relief when I see he’s still dead to the world.
My heart’s beating fast and shit and the rare shakiness in my hands unsettles me. It causes me to remember that I need to get Hanji’s notebooks and get the fuck out of here before their impatient ass decides to call my phone. It’s already been at least thirty minutes since they told me to get their things on my way to pick up some food for our shitty weekly meet ups at my apartment. Our other friend Erwin’s probably already there too by now, his big ass moaning about the little red head at his job with the dipshit boyfriend. I _really_ don’t need either of them calling me right now and running the risk of the ringtone waking the guy up.
The few minutes it takes for me to find Hanji’s notebooks in their bedroom feel like hours. My ears are strained for any sound of him coming to and I’m doing some spy level shit trying to stay as quiet as possible as I sift through messes to find their stuff.
I almost make it out the door.
I’m almost fucking there when a fucking cockroach decides to say hi, causing me to curse everything under the damn sun and jump back, slipping on a loose shirt. If the loud swearing wasn’t enough to wake the vixen up, the loud _thud_ sound my ass makes when I hit the floor sure does it.
In an instant, he’s up and off the couch, messy hair in his eyes as he tries to make sense of what’s going on around him. He has the most adorably confused face I’ve ever seen – but will never admit- but it quickly washes to shock and horror when he sees my dumbass laid out on the ground.
“Oh my God!” _it’s good to get to know that phrase well now, since you’ll be saying it even louder soon enough if you continue to stand there in those panties._ | 93e39dd94d2745408d9127bc9b2f5878 | ['d71918532c8c48cc86605f904f24670e'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hi guys! I don't own Yuri!!! on Ice.
>
> I've read through this so many times my eyes can't pick up on any more mistakes so if you see any, please forgive me! Hope you enjoy ; )
A flash of gray. The swish of tails. Shadows obscuring the sunlight that filtered through the ocean.
_Predators._
Yuuri sensed them before he heard them. The sudden stillness of the water was a dead giveaway to something being wrong. In an instant it seemed, all the schools of fish that had been playing above of him were gone and the once vibrant sea floor creatures had either camouflaged themselves or had gone to hide. Nothing that could be a target was out in the open. Except for _him._
In the seconds that followed his startling realization, Yuuri fled. Immediately, the predators chased after him and he cursed his mistake. His hasty retreat had caught the attention of all them and he had no other mer around to help him.
Frantically pumping his tail fin to generate as much speed as he could, Yuuri’s mind was screaming at him to go _faster faster faster_ to avoid becoming a meal. The open expanse of ocean in front of him said he had nowhere to hide, but he kept swimming. Instinctively, he began to emit high-pitched calls to alert any other mers within hearing range of his distress.
Even as he made his calls, Yuuri knew he was too far away from any pods to have a chance of any surprise interventions.
The smattering of scales coating his forearms began to turn a bright red in stark contrast to his increasingly pale tail. It was a part of his body’s fight or flight response to the danger he was facing. Like the rest of his kind, his scales changed color to become an intimidating display when confronted with any possible threats.
Usually, Yuuri managed to avoid any conflicts with attackers with his threatening scales, but he knew they would have little effect on a pack of hungry hammerhead sharks.
The frantic merman chanced a glance behind him and let out a yelp when he saw that his pursuers hadn’t let up. In fact, the distance between them was rapidly closing. His wagging tail was only a short stretch away from the snatching jaws of particularly fast hammerhead.
A blind panic clouded all of his senses and for a moment, he almost stopped dead in his desperate escape from the sheer amount of terror that gripped his heart.
Was this how it was going to end for him?
In the bellies of hungry hammerhead sharks?
Further and further he swam, until he began to reach dimming waters. Here, the sunlight’s rays couldn't hope to penetrate the surface.
After swimming for what felt like an eternity, Yuuri almost wept from joy as he began to see what looked to be the mouth of a small cave.
He had no idea how deep the cave went or if he would be able to squeeze himself into it, but nonetheless he quickly darted inside.
He realized when he entered the cave that even with his sleek body, he was much too big. Almost immediately after forcing himself into the jagged opening, he felt a dull wave of pain followed by the sensation of his scales being scraped off.
The agony didn't fully register in Yuuri’s mind as he continued to swim away to safety, but the tendrils of red that followed him did.
Still, he didn't spare a moment to examine his injuries or glance to see if his pursuers had found a way to follow him.
Inside the cave, there were only schools of small, dark colored fish. They swam around and away from him as he exhaustedly glided down in.
Over the sound of his pulse thudding in his ears, he could hear what sounded like the hammerheads slamming themselves against the mouth of the cave, too big to enter but still furious about their escaped meal.
His shoulder brushed against the cave’s rock walls as he involuntarily began to lean against them. Leaning on a rough surface and trying to swim proved to be a bad idea when he felt his skin chafe.
Tiredly lifting himself off the wall, his eyes struggled to stay open as he came to a gradual halt to assess his surroundings.
The cave itself was pitch black, but his enhanced deep sea vision made it possible to see. The cavern was made of cylindrical, medium-sized rock walls with large, round rocks at its floor. It didn’t look like a cave as much as did a hall. It obviously led to something so Yuuri continued his way in.
Both the rocks and the walls were various shades of red, brown, and plant-covered green that meshed together. Craning his head, he speculated that the cave possibly had a high roof, but he didn't bother to check it. He kept his aquatic, webbed ears perked, and occasionally flicked them in the direction of any possible noises.
The vibrations from the hammerheads’ hits had disturbed the calm behavior of the fish, but other than that the hall was untroubled. As he swam, his blood never stopped seeping from his sides as a entire sections of his damaged scales precariously hung from his body, some detaching and fluttering to the rocks beneath him.
When he reached the end of the hall, he saw there were multiple openings to other caverns. They were larger and seemed to lead to more populated areas so he hurriedly chose the most obscured looking cavity. Here, its entrance was smoother and more hidden from other fish.
Yuuri’s eyes regarded the cave, the tired brown orbs momentarily lighting up when he saw that this cave had both round rocks and large slabs of flat rock at its floor, the kind perfect for bedding. |
3e13ffc9345c4a2bb6ba69e208020fbc | ['d73064fc053f428e9fe0aa0643f687c3'] | "What didn't you say funny," the man replied. " 'Humans cannot eat sand', 'Optical character-recognition software.' You've got quite a sense of humor, Buffy. May I call you 'Buffy'? I'm Lindsey."
"I'm not a robot," Buffybot chirped.
"I didn't say you were," Lindsey laughed.
"But she is!" Buffybot pointed in the direction that the McCrackens had gone. Dawn slapped a palm to her forehead.
"Who, Mrs. McCracken?" Lindsey furrowed his brow. "Well, her face doesn't look right, I'll grant you that. And it might explain that choice of outfit."
"And she likes knock-knock jokes," Buffybot added. "I do not like knock-knock jokes."
"A robot," Lindsey nodded. "That's pretty amazing."
"I was just bored," Dawn explained. "I just made it up 'cause I was bored in Ms. Lefcourt's class."
"I don't know," Lindsey mused. "She could be. You obviously noticed something that made you think that. She could be an evil robot."
"An evil robot?" Buffybot asked. "Do they make those?"
"Anything can happen on the hellmouth," Lindsey replied. "You let me know if you need any help with that... soup." He winked, and then turned to catch up to the group.
Dawn watched him go, amazed.
viii.
The next class session dragged by for Lindsey. He had made contact with the Slayer and her sister, and had let them know that he knew what was what and that he was willing and, he had implied, able to help. All he needed now was for the Slayer to make her move. But she just sat there, smiling calmly, for the whole session with the computer teacher, speaking up only to answer several of the teacher's questions. Sharp or not, she certainly knew her computers. And the male anatomy, he thought with a wry smile. One more reason to strike up a relationship. Dawn, however, seemed much more restless and eager to get on with battling the demon, since she spent most of the session nudging and poking Buffy, trying to prod her into action.
With the Slayer seemingly in no rush, Lindsey spent the balance of the session studying Mrs. McCracken. Hellmouth or no, he was pretty sure that Dawn had indeed just made up that bit about the woman being a robot. The odd look to her face was apparently just a none-too-subtle facelift. It was her son, however, who acted suspiciously. All through the discussion, the boy kept stealing glances in the direction of the Slayer and her sister. And he had behaved oddly when they had spoken in the hallway. Was it the boy? Was he the demon?
ix.
Try as she might, the only thing Dawn could get the Buffybot to say in the session with the computer teacher was the answer to whatever question the teacher had just asked. This, of course, merely had the effect of getting another one of Dawn's teachers to sing Buffybot's praises. When the session was over, Dawn was now the first one out of the classroom, the Buffybot close on her heels.
"I thought you wanted me to not draw attention to myself," Buffybot said. "Why did you want me to answer all of those questions?"
"I was trying to get you to tell Mr. Ross that we had to leave," Dawn said huffily.
"But that would be a lie. I am not capable of lying."
"You just stood there and told that man Lindsey that you weren't a--" Dawn's voice, having raised somewhat, now dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "--you know."
"Yes, I did," the Buffybot confirmed cheerfully.
"And that you don't like Knock-knock jokes."
Buffybot grinned. "I lied when I said I didn't like knock-knock jokes."
"Exactly my point! You lied."
"I am able to lie in order to prevent harm to myself or others, and in order to prevent someone from discovering my true identity," Buffybot replied.
"Yeah." Dawn scoffed. "And the longer we stay here, the more likely that is to happen. I told you that before."
Buffybot paused. "Yes, you did. You are right. We should leave immediately. I'll go tell Mr. Ross. Where is he?"
"He's behind us," Dawn replied. "We were the first ones out of the room."
Buffybot wheeled around and ran right into Lindsey.
"Oh!" Buffybot exclaimed. "I'm very sorry."
Lindsey shook his head and blinked his eyes. "My fault. I was following too closely."
"How--" Dawn's eyes widened with fear. "How long were you behind us?"
"Since you left the classroom," Lindsey replied.
"So you heard-- that was a private conversation!" Dawn protested. "What did you hear?"
"Everything," Lindsey said matter-of-factly. "But it's okay. I already know your true identity, Buffy. But I won't tell anyone."
Dawn gasped. "So you know that she's--"
"The Slayer. Yeah. That's what I was telling you in the hallway before. I know you're the Slayer, and I'm here to help."
Dawn nearly swooned with relief.
x.
Buffybot wasn't sure what to do now. Her cover had been blown, but it was not the cover that she was programmed to lie to protect. "Yes. I am the Slayer. But no matter what you just heard, I really don't like--"
"Let's just go," Dawn said impatiently.
"Oh, yes," Buffybot said. "We need to tell Mr. Ross that we're leaving."
"Yeah, I get it. That way you can go ahead and take care of the soup without anyone wondering where you went." Lindsey looked behind him, and saw the rest of the group heading down a different hallway. "Listen, you go ahead, and I'll go back and tell them you're leaving. Then I'll meet you back at the cafeteria." Lindsey turned and hurried off.
"Soup?" Buffybot asked, confused.
Dawn shook her head. "That's the second time he's mentioned soup. Do you suppose he knows something? Maybe we should check it out."
"The hot dogs probably warned him about it."
"What is it with you and hot dogs?"
"It's not me," Buffybot protested as they entered the cafeteria.
xi. | b9e0e2bdb60a4effbb300098b6cfb070 | ['d73064fc053f428e9fe0aa0643f687c3'] | PuppetAngel finally tore his eyes from the cup to look at Fred. "No. Um, are you done with that cup?"
"Well, no, not yet, Angel, why --?" Fred stopped, then nodded. "Of course. Styrofoam. Do you want the cup?"
"Only if you're done with it," PuppetAngel tried to sound nonchalant.
"I'm not, but Wesley's almost done with his." She nudged Wesley with her elbow. "Finish your coffee so Angel can have the cup."
Wesley looked up from the computer screen, perplexed. "What? Oh, there's a whole sleeve of them in the little kitchenette over there."
PuppetAngel hopped down from his chair. "That's okay. Don't get up. I can get it myself," he said calmly and politely. Then he turned and sprinted toward the kitchenette which was located in the back of the lab near Fred's office.
Fred watched him go, then turned back to Wesley. "So you didn't need Jenkins to get you that coffee after all, huh?"
"What? No, I uh, found it myself." Wesley's attention was still mostly on the computer.
"My hero," Fred muttered.
They returned their attention to their work, and a few moments later PuppetAngel returned and climbed back into his chair .
"So," Fred smiled, "did that hit the spot?"
PuppetAngel frowned. "No, not really. I think it just gave me gas." A short, loud, high-pitched noise issued from his mouth, accompanied by a sudden rigid posture and a look of surprise. Then he relaxed back into his chair and his eyes narrowed. "And the hiccups," he growled, punctuating his sentence with another chirp.
Fred's hands went to her mouth, trying vainly to cover her giggles. Wesley grinned. PuppetAngel crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. And hiccuped.
"Great," PuppetAngel muttered. "Now I'm -HIC!- a plush toy that squeaks."
It took Fred and Wesley a few moments to regain their composure.
Fred regained control first, mainly because she noticed how nice it was to see Wesley laugh. "Would water help?" she asked.
"I don't -HIC- think so. Look, I think I'll just -HIC- lie down for a bit then-- I think I'll go talk to Nina. HIC!"
"So, ahem," Wesley said, composing himself, "you're going to take my advice?"
"Yeah, I think so. HIC! How do I look?"
"Well," Fred replied, "you look fine. But, what did you do to your hair?"
"I've been wondering that myself, actually," Wesley whispered.
PuppetAngel's eyes widened in shock and he sprang out of his chair, his hands flying up to feel his hair. "Oh, damn! I forgot about that! Spike bleached me -- bastard!"
"Why did he do that?" Wesley asked.
"Because I needed to be washed," PuppetAngel fumed. "Just -- don't ask. What am I gonna do? I can't let Nina see me like this! A puppet and a Spike hairdo?"
"I suppose I could try to cut it or style it for you," Fred offered.
PuppetAngel took a step backward. "Oh no. No touching. Not the hair. Never the hair."
"Well, anyway, I guess there's one good thing," Fred observed.
"What?"
"Your hiccups are gone."
"Don't worry, Angel," Wesley soothed. "Come with me. I'm sure the Special Ops department has everything necessary to return you to your natural brunette color."
Due to the nature of its business, the Wolfram & Hart Special Operations Department had all the necessary materials to camouflage a truck, disguise a human being, or dye a puppet's hair. Once there, it was a relatively easy process. In the meantime, Wesley regaled PuppetAngel with variations on the theme of the speech he'd given Angel the day before: that few couples ever find perfect happiness and that he should give himself the chance to be at least mildly happy with Nina. Wesley even rehearsed with him a little bit of what PuppetAngel might say to her.
Just as they were finishing up and preparing to leave Special Ops, a secretary called out to PuppetAngel. "You're wanted on the phone, sir. It's Mr. Lorne."
"Thanks," PuppetAngel said, taking the receiver and promptly dropping it. It was too big for him to hold with one felt hand, so he picked it up and held it to his ear with both hands. "Sorry about that. What's up, Lorne?"
"We're finally all done up here with the Grumpalfar negotiations," Lorne told him.
"Would have been done sooner except Spike kept trying to speak directly to them directly. He was either trying to explain how to do a satellite hookup or mime the 'Pirates Of Penzance', I was never sure which --except I don't remember that play having an 'X' rating. And the Grumpalfar decided they didn't want the sex toy after all because it was too argumentative."
"Uh huh," PuppetAngel grumbled as Lorne laughed.
"Anyhow," the demon continued, "we're all finished and Harmony has the papers for you to sign."
"Great. Thanks, Lorne."
"And, Angel, bubbie..."
"Yes..." PuppetAngel said suspiciously.
"Sweetie, Angelcakes..."
"What is it, Lorne?"
"Remember those Streisand negotiations?"
"Yeah, what about 'em-- oh, crap, that's today, isn't it?"
"And she's on her way. Should be here any minute now."
"Do I really have to be there?" PuppetAngel sounded like a child who didn't want to go to school.
"She's asked to meet you personally."
PuppetAngel looked at the clock. Nina would be arriving soon to spend the night in her cage. He sighed, defeated, like a child who, despite best efforts, is going to school after all. "All right. I'll be in my office in about five minutes. Bring her on in when she gets here." He handed the receiver back to the secretary, and he and Wesley got on the elevator.
"I'm glad you're going to talk to her," Wesley said.
"Streisand?"
"No, Nina."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, that's if I get out of that meeting in time. But, uh, thanks for the pep talk."
"My pleasure. Now, let's review what you're going to say."
"I know what I'd like to say."
"To Nina!"
"Oh, right. Do I have to?" |
92c3157d5bd44bbfb1110e22108a3970 | ['d7384a9cf7414336a94a51486f554928'] | **Author's Note:**
> Here's a little something I thought up today. Hopefully Shameless doesn't rip our hearts out tonight, but if they do we'll always have fanfic.
They had been on the run for two days when Ian first noticed that Damon seemed to be sulking. At first, he just chalked it up to the fact that they were barely into Texas when they should have been well past the border at that point, so he just decided to ignore it. The three of them (well, really it was him and Mickey outvoting Damon) had decided that the smart play would be to take their time and keep stealing cars to throw any police who were after them off their scent. It slowed down their pace considerably, but that was preferable to getting caught speeding or something equally stupid. Ian would be damned if they were going to go down that easily, not when his happily ever after with Mickey was so close. And Damon was so impulsive he obviously couldn’t be trusted to make any important decisions. He was the brawn of the operation and Mickey and Ian traded off being brains and beauty.
Ian’s resolve was beginning to crack an hour or so later, after hearing nothing but heaving sighs from the backseat. He was just about to lean over and ask Mickey to pull over so they could figure out what the fuck was wrong with Damon, when Mickey jerked the wheel and stopped on the side of the road. He angrily unbuckled his belt and twisted around, murder flashing in his eyes.
“Alright, cabrón, we need to talk about what the fuck your problem is. Either we’re going to settle this shit right here, right now or your ass is going to be walking the rest of the way to Mexico.”
Damon shifted in his seat, looking more like a scolded child than the hitman escaped convict he actually was. He looked down at his feet and mumbled something unintelligible.
“You’re gonna have to speak the fuck up. You sound like you’ve got a dick in your mouth,” Mickey snapped.
Ian snorted. “You would know what that sounds like.”
Mickey shot Ian a glare that said if he didn’t shut up his dick wouldn’t be going in Mickey’s mouth any time soon. Ian grinned and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Mickey shook his head, smiling slightly while he turned his attention back to Damon.
“So, pendejo, what the fuck’s your problem?”
“Look, hermano, I don’t got no beef with you. I just think it’s bullshit that I gotta ride in the back all the time. I mean, I did help you break out of prison and all.”
Mickey was so taken aback that he literally laughed out loud. He was expecting something more along the lines of Damon decided he wasn’t comfortable with Mickey and Ian being a couple, no matter how many times he had assured him otherwise while they were on the inside. Gangbangers weren’t exactly known for their acceptance of the homosexual lifestyle. But this was unexpected. And more than a little funny.
“Ian and I are a couple. What the fuck did you think was going to happen, one of us was going to sit in the back while you kept the driver company? Not a fucking option.”
“I’m just saying that it would be nice if I could drive once in awhile. I am the reason why you could be with your amante pelirrojo instead of still in our cell, jerking off to that picture of him.”
Before Mickey could open his mouth to tell Damon to fuck off, Ian reached over and touched his wrist. “C’mon, Mick, it’s not like he’s asking that for that much. Just let him drive until it’s time for us to stop for the night. Think of it this way: if Damon drives, we can sit in the backseat and fool around.”
Mickey thought about that for a millisecond before tossing the keys at Damon’s head and practically catapulting into the backseat, Ian hot on his heels.
“Uh, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Damon stammered before turning the key in the ignition and pulling back out onto the highway.
“You get what you want, I get what I want. That’s what I call a win-fucking-win. And don’t think I won’t be paying attention. You go even a mile an hour over the speed limit and I’ll fucking know. Oh, and keep your eyes staring straight ahead. Things are about to go down back here that you’ll never be able unsee.”
At that, Ian leaned over and silenced Mickey with a kiss.
**Author's Note:**
> All the Spanish was courtesy of Google Translate, so if it's not right, please let me know so I can change it! | b928a1b685144cb4a5c34fa89d82c18c | ['d7384a9cf7414336a94a51486f554928'] | “No, sir, I think you’ve answered any questions I might have had,” Mickey said while holding his hand out for the priest to shake. Just then, Donna’s voice floated through the intercom, “Mr. Gallagher just arrived. Shall I send him in?”
Fr. Jay pushed the button and answered in the affirmative. Mickey had just enough time to wonder who the fuck ‘Mr. Gallagher’ was, and why he was being sent into the office before the door opened and a tall redheaded man wearing track pants and a polo with the school’s mascot embroidered over the breast pocket walked in.
“You!” Mickey couldn’t help but exclaim. The man looked at him, confused.
“Oh, good, you two have already met.” The principal looked pleased.
“Met? Not exactly. This fucker blew through a red light in front of the school and almost ran me over. That’s why I was late for our appointment.” Mickey could feel his temper rising and had to remind himself that this was his place of employment and it wouldn’t look good for him to get into a fight with a fellow teacher on his first day. That would probably go against the code of ethics Fr. Jay had mentioned.
The man looked puzzled and replied, “I don’t remember this at all, Fr. Jay.”
Mickey scoffed. “You fucking wouldn’t. You were too busy texting on your phone to pay attention to stupid little things like pedestrians and traffic laws.”
Fr. Jay cleared his throat and stepped between the two men, cutting off any reply the taller man might have had. “Mr. Milkovich, I would kindly ask you to refrain from using that kind of vulgar language while on school property, regardless of whether there are students here or not. Ian, I believe we’ve had multiple conversations about your driving, please make sure you’re more careful in the future. Now, I believe the two of you may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s put that business from this morning behind us and start over. Please shake hands and introduce yourselves like gentlemen.”
When it was obvious Mickey wouldn’t make the first move, the other man reached over and grabbed his hand. “My name is Ian Gallagher, gym teacher and head football coach for the Bears. Pleased to meet you. And what’s your name?” Ian gave what Mickey assumed he thought to be a charming smile, but it just made Mickey want to punch him in his teeth.
Mickey grunted and returned the handshake halfheartedly. “Mickey. Math teacher.”
“Oh, a man of few words,” Ian said. “I love a challenge.”
Mickey rolled his eyes and turned towards the principal. “Am I free to go? I would really like to go set up my classroom and finish up lesson plans.”
“Of course, of course. Ian is here to take you on tour of the campus and answer any questions you might have.”
Mickey looked at him blankly. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s your mentor,” Fr. Jay replied. “He’s going to be working closely with you during your first year of teaching to make sure your transition into our family is seamless. He’ll be your go-to if you have any questions.”
Of course, Mickey thought, that would be just his luck. He was stuck with the person who almost killed him that morning for a full school year. He opened his mouth to ask if he could get a new mentor, but then thought better of that idea. It felt like showing weakness, which was something a Milkovich would rather die than do. He would just have to man up and deal with this pain in the ass. It was only for a year, it couldn’t be that difficult, right?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
An hour later, Mickey was regretting that decision. Ian had dragged him up and down the school, showing him everything from the teacher’s lounge to the football field, the gym to the chapel, all the while keeping up a steady stream of commentary. He didn’t know why he would ever need to know where the boiler room was, or what the names of all of Ian’s siblings were, but Ian had told him anyway.
“Yeah, so I was in the ROTC program when I was in high school, but then something happened, so that was no longer in the cards. I went through a pretty dark period, but my sister Fiona and best friend helped me get my life back together. After that, I decided I wanted to become a teacher. How about you? What’s your story?”
Mickey stopped walking and glared at Ian. “Look, Gallagher, I don’t know what you think is gonna happen here, but I promise we’re not going to become buddies. We won’t be exchanging friendship bracelets, or braiding each other’s hair. We don’t need to swap life histories or talk about shit like when our first times were. This is going to be a strictly professional relationship, and barely even that if I have anything to say about it.”
Ian took a step back, raising his hands in placation. “Sorry, Mick, I was just trying to make conversation. Get to know the newest teacher here. But if you really want to know, my first time was when I was fourteen, with Roger Spikey.”
“Wait, you’re gay?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“And, like, the other teachers and parents know? And they’re fine with it?”
“There’s the occasional small minded person, but the administration is very supportive in those types of situations. Why do you want to know anyway? You gay too?” |
88f69e2da51442779a270af48b8c5e87 | ['d74e6b69937b4e3fbaf630b75f14a53a'] | It came as a surprise to Natasha, one spring afternoon, when she received letter from Sif inviting her to visit Asgard. She wrote with eagerness, begging for Natasha to return for but a week at least, for she had missed her intensely. Natasha had ignored the letter for a number of weeks, with the invitation hanging over her like a guillotine. She vowed never to return to that place, to never behold it’s fantastically golden palace, it’s scorching hot climate. Eventually Clint had discovered the letter and, like the gentleman he was, insisted that it was impolite to ignore an invitation from anyone, let alone the queen. Though Natasha knew he cared little for that, and had presumably informed Fury of the invitation and received the task of prying around Asgard’s palace in return. So they went, taking a ship once again to get there faster. Natasha insisted that they stay for no more than a week, though when they arrived she wished she had insisted on less.
Sif was most pleased to see them as they stepped from the carriage that had brought them from the docks, stepping as fast as she could down the steps into the courtyard, with a largely rounded belly that she held protectively with her hands as though it would fall off. The sight of it had of course prompted a look of sadness from Barton, who Natasha knew longed for a child, though he scarce said anything about it.
Frigga followed shortly after Sif, beaming and holding a small child in her arms. Much too young to be Sif’s, and with familiar raven black hair and green eyes that stared in awe. Her name was Hela, Frigga had told them proudly as she bounced the girl on her hip. She had fat rosy cheeks just like her mother, though she largely resembled her father, Loki. It was a rather haunting sight, and Natasha could not bear to look at the girl for too long, though she did remark on her beauty and loveliness to please Frigga.
It had been when she had stumbled upon his tomb that she knew she had to leave. She really should have been thinking a little bit more, she shouldn’t have been venturing so far down into the palace’s underground tunnels. It had been a day with poor weather, and seeing as she found it difficult to stay too long in the library, she had sought out some other form of entertainment; exploring. She had never really done much of it when she had been living there, too busy waiting on Sigyn or reading in the gallery.
It was when she had began passing stone epitaphs, statues depicting old monarchs, that she knew she had gone too far, yet she continued to venture deeper. She found Odin’s tomb rather easily, with flowers and candles placed around his statue, his stone face somewhat softer than what it had actually looked like. But then she found Loki’s beside it, fewer candles were placed at his feet, some burned out long ago, and a few flowers scattered around, most likely given by Frigga. His stone features were scarily accurate, and before she had stumbled upon his statue she had only passed it with her torch, nearly screaming out for thinking it was actually him. His cold lips twisted into his signature smile and his grey eyes still pierced into her heart. She placed her hand on his cheek, so cold beneath her touch. “I shouldn’t have come.” She whispered to herself, and hastily spun on her heel to leave, so fast that she almost extinguished her torch.
Their stay had lasted only a week, with Natasha eager to return to Midgard and escape the foul memories of Asgard, and Barton restless and concerned by Natasha’s jumpy and fretful attitude. They sailed back in the afternoon, with Sif waving beside Thor, who had been quiet for a majority of their stay, often caught chewing his lip anxiously or watching Natasha with some form of guilt in his demeanour. They thought nothing of it, Sif had been quick to ignore her kings discomfort, even Frigga had apologised on her sons behalf, claiming that he had been anxious on the lead up to their arrival. Natasha dared a reassuring smile at Thor as the boat drifted from the docks, perhaps the sight of her brought back memories of his brother, if so, it was best that they were departing.
~X~
It was a hot summer day in Midgard, with a cloudless sky above her as Natasha tidied away a number of books left lying around front parlour of their house. Barton was away in York as requested by Fury, to speak with Stark and his advisors, she had been invited of course, yet with such heat she preferred to stay in the shade, and the prospect of a days ride was most unwelcome to her. So she arranged the house in the way that she liked, constantly on her feet, for she knew if she sat she would grow bored and wish she had gone with Clint to York.
She made use of the time she had to herself, reading, writing letters to Pepper or Jane, even venturing out to the market in a fit of extreme boredom. A number of servants insisted that they perform the trivial task, but Natasha needed to take her mind off of things, and declared that it was fine, that she should take care of the responsibility instead. She returned with baskets of goods, and a number of servants ran to aid her, taking the fruits from her hands and running to the kitchen. She helped them unload the baskets, making idle conversation like she had with some of the sellers down at the market, even with a number of knights, mainly Sir Barnes, who she had grown especially close to after the winter feast in the palace. | 11fb29ca44c94726a774c5f290d9db1c | ['d74e6b69937b4e3fbaf630b75f14a53a'] | Natasha and Clint walked into the gallery later that day, after they had sat together and talked. Natasha had decided that it was time for her to get to know her husband better, and though she had already known that he was good company, she knew it all the more now. There weren’t many in Asgard that would have offered her a strong drink so early in the morning.
They were welcomed by the sound of utter commotion and uproar. Queen Frigga sat in her golden silk upholstered armchair, her head resting lightly in one of her elegant hands. Jane sat on a couch by her side, she looked utterly lost, gazing at the marble floor with a placid expression. Amora was by her side, chattering with Freya as though some great gossip had overtaken the court.
Everyone of merit seemed to be present, even Loki stood at the far end of the gallery, deep in conversation with his father, who glared around the room with a grave look in his eye.
At the sight of Natasha looking lost in the gallery’s entrance, Frigga stood from her chair. She strode towards her, without her usual calm and ethereal façade, no, she had something serious on her mind.
“Natasha, child.” She greeted, her brow stern.
“Your grace.” Natasha curtsied, and Clint bowed beside her.
“Your grace.”
“What has happened?” Natasha inquired with confusion. Frigga looked at her, bemused, and with a slight tilt of her head she raised a brow.
“You know nothing?” The queen asked. “She told you nothing of this?”
“Who?”
“Lady Sif.” Frigga informed her, her expression growing sterner as the conversation continued. “It seems she and Thor have run away together.”
Queen Frigga thrust a piece of parchment into Natasha’s hands, her face falling into a look of utter despair. Natasha looked at the parchment, it was a letter, written in prince Thor’s hand. She looked back up, past the queen and to Loki, who glared at her from across the space. Of course he would be displeased with such a turn of events, he, who had been begging her to run away with him for weeks now. And now Thor had done what he could not, and that would not be a first in their relationship, for Loki had often divulged stories of living in the shadow of his great brother, the heir to the throne.
“What does it say?” Clint asked uncertainly from beside her.
She held up the letter and began to read it aloud, Frigga looked down at the floor sadly as she did so, presumably uncomfortable with hearing it again.
_“I cannot marry a woman whom I do not hold any affection for. I cannot condemn myself to a life of dissatisfaction with what I have, and desire for what I cannot. As such, I have come to the decision that I must leave Asgard, with my love by my side. I have no intention to ever return._
_Please send my regards to Lady Foster, who, though is a marvellous woman with an exquisite mind and beauty, I cannot love her the way I wish to. I wish her every happiness._
_Send regards to Loki, my brother, who now, in my stead, must suffer the burden of being heir to the throne of Asgard. I wish him every luck, and happiness with his wife Sigyn._
_And send my regards to my mother, Queen Frigga, for whom I am truly, very sorry._
_Thor.”_
Natasha folded the letter back up slowly, her mind a whirl of emotion as she struggled to come up with something to say. She was angry. More than that, she felt betrayed. For there she was, wishing she could escape the confines of Asgard, but forcing herself to stay to make sure her friend could be happy, yet that very friend had left her with no words. Sif had gone, with no note to explain her departure, not apology, no comfort for Ivan’s death. Gone. Leaving nothing in her wake. Natasha almost wished she would indeed never return, for she could not imagine how she could ever face her again.
Though, at the same time she felt impressed, proud even, that Sif had the bravery to run away and find her happiness. In that, Natasha supposed, she had one less thing to worry about. If Sif was happy with her decision, then that was all that mattered, she just wished that her friends could have had a little more care.
“What will happen if they are discovered?” Natasha asked, looking up to see Odin walk to Frigga’s side.
“ _When_ they are discovered, they shall be punished accordingly.” Odin said coldly. Clint shifted uncomfortably beside her and gave a gruff exhale.
“And have they left no tracks, no way of finding them?” Clint asked, and Natasha found herself holding her breath.
If they were found, she could not imagine the punishment Sif would receive, no matter how loved she was by Frigga, Odin would be most severe, that was for sure. Whether she were to be branded a witch and put to death, or locked in a cell in the dungeons, Sif would suffer far more than Thor, the golden prince of Asgard. Natasha only wished that they had already made a safe distance between them and the golden city. Of course she wanted dearly to see her friend again, but if it meant seeing her before an impending execution, she would prefer to never see Sif again in her life.
“We have over half the city guard looking for them.” Odin replied. He eyed Natasha warily before placing his hand on Clint’s back and walking him away to speak further. Natasha managed to hear the end of the king’s sentence before they were too far away. “If we had discovered their absence sooner, we may have a better advantage. Are you sure your wife knows nothing of Lady Sif’s departure?” |
51ca9479748a42779ed27ad152575dd2 | ['d74ed6731d0e456f82cfaafa6554c74e'] | The Sunflower Field
They are in the middle of a sunflower field. The sun is so bright that Armie can barely keep himself from narrowing his eyes or even close them entirely. He doesn’t dare to, though, because in front of him is probably the most beautiful creature, more beautiful than any flower, with a smile brighter than the sun. He wants to remember this moment forever, doesn’t dare to even blink in fear that everything will be gone if he does.
There, in the middle of the sunflower field Timothée is looking up the sky and spinning around, he is facing the sun, taking all the warmness and light in with his arms stretched wide open. “Don’t you love this, Armie? I wish we could stay here forever.” and he does wish for just that; a forever with Timothée. It’s all left unsaid and Armie just smiles lovingly, looking at his world.
All of sudden his world stops spinning and starts running. “Hey, Tim, where are you going? Wait for me.” He runs after but despite his long legs, something keeps him from catching up. His world is swiftly running through the sunflowers but find a way to yell back playfully. “Come on, Armie. Catch me if you can.” He’s desperate to catch up now. He’s trying his best and runs faster but the faster he runs the further away his world seems to get. His lungs start burning yet he doesn’t think to stop for a minute. It’s his world we’re talking about. How can he let his world go? So he chases him and they run and run but he trips on a little stone and falls down. When he gets up he can’t see Timothée anymore.
Armie looks around, his knees scraped, breathing faltered, in front of him only sunflowers. His world must have hidden somewhere. He calls out frantically because it’s starting to get dark. “Tim, I can’t see you. It’s not fun anymore. Please come out.” There is no answer. “Tim, please."
Abruptly, complete darkness follows and he’s in a middle of a sunflower field with all the flowers looking down, with no sun to spread light around. Realization hits him and he sinks down to the ground. His world is gone. It’s too much for him to bear, it’s cold and dark and most importantly, his world is gone. The world that carried the sun, the one who made the flowers bloom; all gone because Armie couldn’t catch up. He felt weak, helpless and regretful. If only he had run faster, held on tighter, and tried harder. It was too late now. Timothée was gone forever. | 39c6602f39a6476c90a6a17f5093e3a4 | ['d74ed6731d0e456f82cfaafa6554c74e'] |
The Bus Stop
**Author's Note:**
> So, I decided to do this. I'm not a native speaker, therefore, there might be a lot of mistakes. I'm sorry for that. I'm looking for a beta reader. If someone is interested you can reach me in the comments.
>
> Let's see where this story will go.
Every morning, Taehyung and Jimin got on the same bus to go to school. They had an arrangement. Jimin lives a couple of stops away from Taehyung so he gets on first and waits for his friend so that they can ride together every day. Unlike the school bus, the public bus is always full but they always managed to sit together and pretend they were in their own world; talking about the last show they watched or this new song that Taehyung heard last night.
They weren’t exactly the popular kids. In fact, it’s safe to say that they were not popular at all. Taehyung was tall and handsome but his character made him seem weird to other people so he always kept to himself and avoided everyone except Jimin and a few other people at school.It wasn’t uncommon for some of the jocks to make fun of him so even on this morning he brushed right past through them without paying any attention to what they were saying and he sat on his desk rather ungracefully. 'Can you believe them, Chim? Why do they even bother with me? I get it, I’m different and interesting but it’s not my fault that they aren’t.' he sighed rolling his eyes in annoyance. Jimin chuckled as he flicked Taehyung’s nose. 'Don’t bother. They don’t understand us. We’re too smart for them.'
The thing is, Taehyung was bothered by everything. He was fifteen and no matter how hard he tried to not let it go in his head it kind of did anyway. He was lost in thought when suddenly the feeling of Jimin’s nudge brought him back. ' Hey, have you noticed the hot guy that rides the bus with us every day? He always gets on your stop and gets off with us.'
What guy was Jimin talking about? The only guy Taehyung cared about was the main guitarist of the school band whom he had the biggest crush on. He shrugged, not really remembering the person his friend was referring to. Jimin clicked his tongue judgingly. 'How can you not notice him, though? He looks so cool, so hip-hop.' Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows.“You know I could care less about hip-hop.“ And it was true; the boy was interested in theatre, literature and rock. He couldn‘t be further away from hip-hop. 'You should acknowledge hotness when you see it, Tae. No matter under what type of style it‘s hidden.' And with that Jimin dropped the subject.
**************************************************
It was an awful day already and Taehyung was not even in school yet. He was in a bad mood, it was raining and on top of that, the bus was late. The rain Taehyung didn’t mind as much but he’d much more rather be at home wrapped in a blanket with a book in his hand than wait for the stupid bus.
The bus being late, however, gave Taehyung time to look around the bus stop a bit. There was a grandma that was holding a bag with her hands shaking from old age. The boy thought about whether or not he‘d live to be this old and this brought him back to his usual state of mind these days. He was not in a good place. Money was tight in his family right now. Ever since his parents left him with his grandparents so they can move and start a life in another country the situation at home was not perfect. His grandparents loved him but they weren‘t really happy about his parents leaving and there was tension in the household.
Taehyung shook his head to get rid of the bad thoughts and sighed deeply, possibly attracting more attention to himself that he desired. A few eyes on the bus stop were on him but there were two particularly dark that stared right into his soul. He looked up and caught the gaze of the stranger. Suddenly, the conversation he had with Jimin yesterday emerged in his mind. This was the guy his friend was talking about. The hot guy that always got on his stop. Taehyung broke the staring contest and timidly looked away. He wondered why he hasn‘t noticed the guy before. The boy wasn‘t his type but he was definitely good-looking and Taehyung could see why his friend would think he‘s hot.
Today, Jimin was not going to be on the bus and that made Taehyung‘s day even shittier than it was before. He sat on one of the two available seats at the back and tried not to mope too much at the absence of his friend. He was completely able to ride the bus by himself. He didn’t need any bubbly Park Jimin to keep him company. Suddenly, no other than mister hot hip-hop guy sat right in the seat beside him and nudged Taehyung, smiling brightly. 'Hey, I see you on the bus every day. Where’s your friend?' the stranger said. A shock was an understatement of what Taehyung felt. He was definitely not good at talking with strangers but he thought that he should at least try for Jimin’s sake. It looked like his friend was really interested in this guy so being awkward can ruin his chance if his friend even wanted one in the first place.
After a bit of small talk, Taehyung learned three things about the stranger. His name was Jungkook, he lived next to their school and he went to the school next to Taehyung’s house, hence him always riding the same bus; his Instagram was ‘samejk’. |
3fc1e4edd5274e23bf99bef9ecbd153a | ['d75d7c83b96c4c048ef63a975000c902'] | “It is a weapon fit for a King.” James says.
The King chuckles. “No, boy. Perhaps when I requested Queen Shuri to make it, it was. Now, it is a weapon fit for a man, born with nothing, who earned the _respect_ of a King.” He stands and walks to James. “My youngest daughter has been very melancholy this morning. Do you know why?”
James stiffens a bit. “I believe she is suffering from a broken heart.” He says honestly.
“And who would be the poor soul whom was foolish enough to break the heart of a princess?”
James swallows hard. He knows better than to lie to a King. “I am not sure how to answer that without dishonoring her, your Majesty.”
The King looks down at the sword and leans against the table. “When you first came to this palace, I disliked you. You were puffed up on the Academy’s favor. Arrogant. Reckless. Unfit to protect my daughter. Yet despite my grievances, I was out-voted by my own family, and you were offered the position anyways. I hated you, watched and waited for you to make any mistake that would justify dismissing you. I did not think you worthy of such an honorable position. However, last night, you did something that proved me wrong. You were faced with a great temptation and did what you had to do to protect my daughter’s integrity. My _family’s_ integrity. I owe you a great debt for that.”
“The princess is so young.” James replies, wondering how the King found out about his affections. Perhaps James was not as discreet with them as he thought. He begins to sweat, but continues to answer the King. “She should not be so reckless with whom she gives her heart. I believe I have made it clear to her that she cannot give it to me.”
“You’re absolutely right, James.” The King says, then taps the sword box. “Which is why this sword is yours.”
James is visibly taken aback, abruptly taking a small step backwards. “I…I could never—”
“Yes, you can. And you will. I command it. Consider it a gift for your…” the King struggles to find the right phrase. He chuckles to himself. “Just take it.”
“And if her Highness asks me where I obtained such a weapon?” James asks.
The King pats James on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will think of something to tell her.” He says with the smallest grin. “Now—” he begins. “It is raining, and you would do well to bring my daughter back inside. We are leaving for Asgard in the morn to attend the new king’s coronation. It would be most ill-timed for the princess to catch a cold.”
“A new Asgardian king, your Majesty?”
“Yes. King Odin breathed his last three days ago. His secondborn, Thor, will be crowned at the next full moon. The Queen Mother, Queen Frigga, insists on such a date. I say she has been dabbling in witchcraft, but the Asgardians have a powerful army and are notorious conquerors. It would be wise of us to refrain from offending them with our absence on such an occasion.”
“Thor is Odin’s secondborn?”
“Aye. His firstborn daughter, Hela, was imprisoned for high treason many years ago, even before you were born.” He scoffs loudly. “This is why the people demand male heirs. Women can be so…unpredictable. They are only good for alliances. Promises of marriage, boy, are the greatest gift one sovereign can give to another. It is especially easy when you have seven daughters to choose from.”
James, visibly uncomfortable with the King’s words, decidedly speaks out of term. “The young princess does not wish to be a pawn in a dynastic game.”
“I’m afraid that’s not her choice to make, James. It is mine. And I have already made it.” The King explains. “Do not fret, James. I would never promise her to a man you would disapprove of.”
“It is my belief that the only approval of whom she marries should be her own.”
“That is a noble thing to say.” The King nods. “But when you return to her, you will speak nothing of this conversation. To disobey this direct order would be treason. Is that understood?”
“Undeniably.” James answers. He turns to the King. “I believe it is time for me to escort her inside for dinner. Please, excuse me.”
James bows and backs out of the room. He makes no effort to rush outside to disturb her Highness. She is young, her grudge will pass. Her feelings are real, however, and he mustn’t forget he has made her feel such a way. James is stoic outwardly, but inside, he is fuming. It is undeniable that the King loves his children, especially his youngest daughter, (Y/N). But he regularly speaks about them as if they are his property. It is despicable to James. He and many others have begun to adopt less…sexist notions about a woman’s role in the world. When Wakanda split into two separate nations and King T’Challa made his sister Queen of the new country, (Y/N)’s father thought it was a scandal, while the rest of the kingdom rejoiced. Queen Shuri is the first Queen Regnant in the world, and undeniably the most popular of the current living sovereigns. (Y/N)’s father is rather crossed that his wife never gave him a son.
Just a foolish old man, behind in the times.
James can only hope that (Y/N)’s future husband will not treat her as property, too.
James does not like being away from the princess. His mind wanders to such things and it only makes him upset. He hastens his step so that he may reach her faster. | 947f7681f0f84bcb8f393641e49a48df | ['d75d7c83b96c4c048ef63a975000c902'] | The Gentle King thinks about his answer. She asked him the same think but a few days ago—he told her no. He saw the love she had for James, it’s purity, and knew he’d never be blessed with the same. He sighs. “I think she cares for me, and the attention I so freely give her. She has bewitched my soul. But no, Stark, I do not think she loves me as I do her. I think in time, she could feel a love for me, but I would not ask her to marry me before I was sure of it.”
Stark chokes on his tea. “She is not yours to propose to!” he says after clearing his throat. Steven gives him a raised brow in curiosity. Stark goes so far as to roll his eyes. “You and your Midgardian customs have no such authority here! You cannot ask for status in our lands in such a way!”
“Calm down, Stark. I did not mean to offend.” Steven says in innocence.
“The reigning sovereign has the sole authority to propose a royal union. You cannot ask to marry her! The marriage would be void before you even met her at the altar. She must propose to you. She must bestow a title to you. You cannot ask her for one!”
Steven sits back into his chair—almost in defeat. He rubs his beard and lets out a deep breath. There are no such rules in Midgard, it is simply the custom that a man would propose to a woman, no matter status. Steven comes to the painful realization that he might never marry her if she does not heal from the loss of James.
She may choose to remain the invisible widow.
Steven stands, suddenly in the mood for solitude. “None of this changes my desire to gift her with a new palace. I will deal with the funding. Begin designing immediately. Thank you for your company, gentleman.”
He walks slowly, with his hands behind his back, towards his guest room. He requests that he is not disturbed for the rest of the day.
He even denies (Y/N)’s request to join him for a private supper in her suite. Selfish, maybe. But he has plenty of work to keep him occupied. And he just wants to be alone.
(Y/N) notices the atmosphere feels heavy without him.
She doesn’t wish to be alone. So she asks Lord Wilson to join her instead.
“How long have you served as Prime Minister, Lord Wilson?” she asks him during their second course.
“Ten years. I served five years, was drafted to fight in the Sokovian riots when King Brock took rule, and then came back and served for another five.”
“Good gracious. You must be very popular with the people, then?” she says, trying to hide her discomfort at the mention of that wicked man.
“I think they care more for my service record than they do my person.”
“Why did you leave the Army, if I may ask? Were you injured in the Sokovian riots?”
“No, ma’am. But I lost someone very close to me on the front lines. I found it very hard to find a reason to go back.”
“I am sorry, Samuel. I didn’t know. I did not mean to bring up such painful memories.” She whispers, taking his hand in hers.
“It is alright. I believe I should be apologizing to you for your losses.”
“Please.” She shakes her head. “Suffering is not a tournament.” She smiles to him and then sits back in her chair so that they may be served a new course. She stabs a small piece of roasted vegetable on her fork and takes a bite. She chews slowly, and then rests the heel of her palms on the table. “Lord Wilson, may I ask you something about his Majesty?”
“Of course.”
“He is regarded as the Gentle King around the world. Do you believe that to be an apt description of him?”
“I have never met a kinder soul in all my years of life. King Steven can be stubborn, exceedingly so. He oftentimes sincerely believes he knows what is best for all peoples, in all situations. He has a much more difficult time accepting advice than giving it. But he is gentle, yes. Honorable and true. Courageous. Selfless. Do you not see these things in him?”
“He is a very admirable man, yes.” She says. “Yesterday…I was at a private meeting with my own Prime Minister. He informed me that just a few hours earlier, there was an outrage in my parliament building that I handed over Sokovia…particularly its _resources_ , to the now-King Loki of Jotunheim. They said it was a scandal and blamed his Majesty for influencing me to make such a poor decision. They wish for him to leave. Immediately.”
Samuel sits back in his chair and raises his brow. “What will you do?”
“Well I don’t want him to leave. I cannot just throw him out of the palace at such a time.” She stands and smooths out her dress. “Which leaves me with only one other option.”
Samuel leans forward with curiosity. “Which is, ma’am?”
“I must ask him to marry me.”
Samuel stays quiet for a long time. “You would marry him for convenience?” he asks, a bit offended.
“My father promised me to him for _convenience_.” She quips back, catching the irritation in his tone. “No, Samuel, I would not marry him for convenience. I want to marry him for love. But I need time…to make sure that when I propose I do so from my heart. Do you think he would ever accept my proposal?”
Samuel stands and walks over to her, taking her hands in his. “I think he desires nothing more in this world than love— _your_ love. But he does not want you to give it to him while your heart lies with another.” |
0f260a574f5f4dae9415cf891822fdcd | ['d76220ade40b41d68f3937594facfb40'] | Larry went to the food table like he said, grabbing a few cookies and some punch as he numbly ate it. Tasted like nothing as his heart pounded with anxiety, loneliness, and depression. His mind spiraled into the depression. Maybe he should leave. Everyone was going to have a nice romantic prom. He was just getting in the way.
Larry slipped out through one of the gym doors that led outside. He was met by the quiet night, cold air making him shiver with his bare arms exposed. The dress feeling very thin against the cold. He could still hear the music, muffled now through the door but the silence of the back of the school was comforting outside his rushing spiraling thoughts.
He wish he had a pack of smokes, but he reached into the front of his dress and pulled out his small pipe and bag of weed. He knew it was stupidly risky taking weed to his school’s prom, against his mom’s wishes. He thought maybe him and Sal would get bored, head out to the bleachers and smoke together. But no, he had Ash. As much as this was about Todd and Neil, it for sure wasn't about him.
Larry turned around the corner to get away from the door so he could load the bowl and smoke a little. He nearly jumped when he nearly ran into someone else when he sharply turned. The other teen nearly jumped out of skin.
Larry felt his heart tense. Travis. Travis locked eyes with Larry and gave him an intense glare, eyes dancing across Larry’s entire get up as if he was stabbing him repeatedly. His eyes locked on Larry’s hand holding the drugs. Larry promptly hid the bag and pipe behind his back. However he noticed Travis was holding a small paper bag wrapped around what he assumed was a beer bottle.
“Really Larry? I thought you were gay, but now you're a tranny on top of it?” Travis said with a scoff. “Smoking the devil’s lettuce on top of it.” He added with distaste in his tone, a slur that lead to the alcohol in his systems.
Larry had to contain his rage towards Travis. Laying his eyes on him at any moment made his blood boil. Constantly harassing his friends, mainly Sal and Todd. “Like you're any better.” Larry motioned to the obvious bottle in his hand. “Isn't it against your religion to drink before marriage?”
“That's sex asshole. Not like you know what real sex is like, faggot.” Travis hissed at him. Without shame he took a sip of the bottle once more with testing eye contact with Larry before slamming his back against the wall of the school. Despite his words, he didn't look like he was up for a fight. Or maybe he was too drunk to throw fists.
Larry ignored his remarks on sex, and how gay sex was real sex which was complete bullshit. “Dude why the hell are you drinking?” he asked, but he couldn't help the actual concern in his voice even though he hated the guy. Something was definitely fucking with Travis if he was already losing himself to a bottle of beer.
“Why would you fucking care?” He said with a murmur of drunkenness, taking another heavy chug of his drink. “The cunt I went with left me for some bastard. Whatever, she was a bitch anyways. A huge slut for going after someone like that.”
Larry growled in the back of his throat and glared sharply at Travis, his words making him sick to his stomach. “Dude don't. Just don't call someone that, no girl for that matter. She likes someone else, she doesn't owe you anything. Besides I can understand why she doesn't like you Travis. I bet you say those fowl things to her face.”
Travis drunkenly pushed himself off the wall, his movements slow and stumbling as he tried to steady himself in front of Larry. Trying to come off as threatening, but Larry was twice his size even without the heels and already was bulking up with muscles. Larry gave him a threatening glare to not test anything. “Dude, I can still kick your ass in heels. I wouldn't try anything.” he looked at the bottle in Travis’ hand. “Here, wanna take a hit? I’m not having a great prom either.”
Larry wasn't in the mood to get in a fight either. He used his drugs as a peace offering, and honestly having a drink sounded great right about now. He wanted to numb the depression that settled deep in his chest. Getting cross faded sounded like a good idea at the moment.
Larry took out his pipe, a risk in front of Travis but honestly didn't care in the moment. If he was going to run to the teachers and tell on him, he was drunk and smelled of alcohol while holding an obvious bottle. He began to pack the bowl with weed in front of the other teen. Travis steppes back, making a frustrated sound as his eyes watched Larry’s hands as if he was going to punch him instead.
“No way! You probably have AIDs!” Travis said as he stumbled back a bit. He took another sip of his beer unsteadily.
Larry rolled his eyes at Travis. “Dude what the fuck. You can't get AIDs from spit. I don't have AIDs.” Larry lit the pipe and took a deep inhale, holding it for a second before exhaling out. Travis backed up even more at the smell of the smoke, scrunching up his nose in disgust. Who knew weed would be such a great Travis repellent.
Travis scoffed, turning away and crossing his arms. “Fuck no, I’m not taking your satanic drug.” | fe211d1822fe463da05df0fb06be291e | ['d76220ade40b41d68f3937594facfb40'] | He didn't notice Larry staring, eyes fixed on his blissful expression as he was nearly gaping at the other. Larry adored Sally’s face. Drew it constantly, painted him in different ways. He loved his scars and loved seeing his expressions. He's never seen him so blissful.
“Fuck Sal,” he sounded breathless as he blinked himself back into reality. Sally slowly opened his eyes, smile still on his face as he nervously laughed but turned into obvious stoned giggling. “What?”
“Nothing you're just cute.” Larry giggled in return as he began to light the bowl again.
“Shut the fuck up you fucking gay!” Sally felt his cheeks heat up at his words. He's never called Larry gay before and his anxiety peaked. He didn't want it to come off as offensive or weird. Did it sound offensive? Was a weird?
As if Larry could read his mind, or could read the worried expression on Sally’s face he laughed and gave a reassuring smile and touch on the shoulder. “okay maybe a little gay. Specially in a few seconds here.” he turned his attention back to pipe like he had to really focus on it, to solve its mystery, like it was an algebra test and had came across a unsolvable problem. But he managed to light it, breathe in sharply and filling his lungs before he turned to Sally.
He wasn't ready, for any of it. He was already high and every felt fast, and low all at once. He felt Larry lean closer to him, lower to him. His long brown hair now damp from his shower pressed against his heated cheeks. Larry long fingers gently, oh so gently, placed against Sally’s chin as he tilted his head to face him.
Sally was expecting a kiss, but when it never came he realized he had to part his lips and breathe in for the other to actually blow smoke into his own lungs. He let his lips part, breathing in once he felt the heated smoke caress his lips. Part of him was confused, even disappointed it wasn't Larry’s lips.
Larry pulled away, giving an awkward smile before looking at the small bowl in the pipe full of black ashes. “Ah all out. Wanna another bowl?” Larry could smoke ten more of Sally ever allowed it. Sally never allowed it.
Sally shook his head, he bet he looked like a deer in headlights with the blush over his already red scars that took up his entire face. They’ve shotgunned before but this time it felt different. He never could get used to being so close to Larry’s lip like that. It always gave him butterflies. He looked down at his mask, strapping it to the top of his before following Larry into his bedroom again. He liked it on him if he had to quickly cover his face, but felt comfortable enough to have it off.
Sally walked into the room and knew exactly what he wanted. Larry’s bed. He took his shoes off which was a physical struggle. He didn't speak only made groaning noises of discomfort. He was about to start taking the rest of his clothes off at this point of physical frustration. Then it hit. He was fidgety. Physically overwhelmed high. One of the worst kinds.
He slammed himself against Larry’s bed, curling up around his warm blankets as he looked over to the taller male who was slowly putting his stuff away. It felt like it took hours to get any task done in this state of mind. But both shared this limbo, this limbo of slow moving time. It didn't exist. They were timeless in that room together.
Sally just watched, eyes following Larry as he moved around the room slowly. Putting the weed away. Turning on music. Standing in the middle of his room zoning out before realize he was actually trying to get something done. He grabbed a sketch book and a pencil before sitting with Sally on his bed. It felt like it had been a decade by the time he joined him.
Sally moved and let his friend sit up near his pillows, supporting his back. Sally kept himself curled up near him. The weed was making him want to fidget. Be physical. Do something. Keep his hands busy. But do something without any thinking involved. He reached over and began to mess with Larry’s shirt him.
Larry’s hand lazily began to sketch something as Sally got deeply lost in his thoughts. This was often what they did when blazed, sit in silence together. They didn't need to speak, or do the same thing, because it felt to them as bonding regardless. They felt the same. So in a since experiencing the same. Weed was weird.
Sally felt the anxiety spike here and there. Feeling guilt for not speaking, doing anything. He only curled himself closer to Larry’s- now cleaned up- legs. His head pressed near his hip, where he could hear Larry’s pencil scrape at the paper and ever so often frantic erasing. His arm gently rustling against Sally’s hair and mask as he drew.
His hand absitemindly began to stroke Larry’s leg starting at his thigh where his shorts had fell back. Shocked to feel Larry shaved his entire leg. He wondered how much he did shave. He still had his forming stubble on his chin, the few stray hairs on his chest, and from earlier he did see his happy trail was still there.
More anxiety spiked. He felt heat rush to his cheeks and head again. Thinking about Larry’s body was not good while stoned under a wandering mind. His hand make it to his knee, moving back and forth as he made his way down. |
d8cfd9e7ca7f4a48a846f53ddeecb601 | ['d76d8c93660b499eae1d25c791895836'] | "Here, grab one of his arms and be careful not to wake him up." Clint said.
"I know what I'm doing." Tony said, grabbing one of Clu's arms and hulling him up off the ground, Clint grabbed Clu's other arm and helped Tony carry him out of the room.
"Where exactly is the Quinjet?" Tony asked.
"It's outside this building waiting for us. Just follow me, I'll take the lead." Clint said leading Tony down several hallways. They finally reached a large door, Clint let go of Clu's arm and imputed a password so the door could open.
"A little help here, Clint? He's not exactly lite." Tony said. The door opened with a 'Woosh' and Clint went back to helping Tony carry Clu. The Quinjet was waiting outside.
"Good, you finally made it." Natasha said.
"We would have made it here faster if we didn't have to carry him." Clint said.
"Come on. Lets start heading to Stark tower." Natasha said, she started boarding the Quinjet.
"I'll pilot the Quinjet." Clint said, he and Tony boarded the Quinjet after Natasha.
"I guess I could strap him in." Tony said gesturing towards Clu, he hulled Clu up and threw him on one of the seats. Tony could hear Clu grunt as he was thrown onto the seat. Tony began strapping Clu in and made sure that he wasn't able to break free or move. "Ok, lets get this show on the road. Hell yeah, this is going to be an interesting turn of events." Tony said.
"Damn straight it is." Clint said, he began to pilot the Quinjet as it lifted of the ground.
"Can I keep the gun?" Tony asked.
"No. That's private SHEILD property but you can borrow it for the time being." Natasha said.
Tony shrugged. "I bet I could replicate this gun and make it ten times better." Tony said.
"I have no doubts." Natasha said.
Tony noticed Clu starting to wake up. Clu could feel something binding him so he began to struggle to break free.
"Unstrap me now!" Clu demanded as he struggled.
"Someone woke up with a bad attitude." Tony mumbled.
"He always has a bad attitude." Clint said pitching into the conversation.
"Such simple binding yet I cannot break free. I shouldn't be having to endure such petty struggles." Clu complained.
"Stop complaining." Clint said.
"I have every right to complain." Clu snarled back at Clint, giving everyone a dangerous look.
"Quit being a worthless jackass and be thankful that you're not back in your prison cell." Clint said.
Clu shrugged, he hadn't considered that. "And where exactly are you taking me?" Clu asked.
"To Stark tower." Natasha said.
"Where? What's Stark tower?" Clu asked.
"You'll see soon enough." Natasha said, looking out the window.
"This jet's nice but not even close to as perfect as my jets are. This jet's slow, can't you make it go any faster?" Clu said.
Clint just held his breath for a few seconds trying to regain his cool. "No I'm not going to fly the jet any faster and must you make a comment on everything?" Clint said.
"Of course I'm going to make a comment on everything. It's just a constant reminder of how imperfect and flawed your world is and how perfect and superior I am to the likes of you incompetent and worthless users." Clu said with a smirk, he was loving this. Clu always loved gloating and boasting about his accomplishments and his superiority and what better time to do it than now?
"If you're so superior than us than why can't you just break free from that simple binding you're in right now?" Clint asked.
"As you can obviously tell I'm in a weakened state. You can't just expect me to break free just like that. That would be completely illogical, this body is so pathetically weak. How do you users even deal with that?" Clu said disgusted.
"It's always users this and users that with you." Clint said with a scowl. This was going to be a long ride, Clint could tell just by the conversation they were having.
"Does it really matter what I call you? I could always call you by your name but that's no fun." Clu said, still trying to find a way out of his bindings.
"Yes, actually it does matter what you call me." Clint said trying to restrain himself from getting out of his seat and tackling Clu.
"See if I care, which obviously I don't. Hmm maybe I should number each of you off." Clu said. "You'll be user #1." Clu said gesturing towards Tony. "User #2." Clu said gesturing towards Natasha. "And user #3." Clu said in a flat voice gesturing towards Clint.
"I don't like my nickname." Tony protested.
"Deal with it because that's what I'm going to be calling each of you for now on." Clu said with a devious smile, his blue eyes were cool and calculating.
"And what if you meet another person? Are you going to call them user #4? Or something like that?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.
Clu cocked his head to the side. "Maybe I'll be nice....if that's what you'd like to call it, and call this other person or other people by their real name." Clu said.
"You? Be nice? Hah! I'd never live to see the day." Clint said.
Clu just gave Clint a cold and poisonous glare, not wanting to entertain or pay attention to the comment Clint had just made.
"Are Steve and Bruce at the tower?" Natasha asked.
"Pepper's watching over Steve to make sure he doesn't mess with any technology he's not familiar with, so yeah he's at the Tower and Bruce is working on another project so he can't be here today but he might come tomorrow." Tony said.
"Pepper's watching over Steve?" Natasha asked. | 1ece7c8f3749452a861c9f0ade995106 | ['d76d8c93660b499eae1d25c791895836'] | "Yes. When you guys called me in I asked her for a favor. Steve basically lives at the Tower but I have plenty of rooms, food, money and clothes so we're all good." Tony said.
"Are our rooms still intact after the last time we stayed in the Tower?" Clint asked.
"Yeah, why?" Tony asked. "I just wanted to make sure because I left some of clothes there." Clint said.
"As did I." Natasha said.
"What are you users talking about?" Clu asked confused, getting lost in the conversation.
"Nothing you need to worry about. Just typical everyday life things." Tony said.
"And that being?" Clu asked waiting for Tony to entertain him. "Things such as food, money, clothes and such." Tony said not particularly wanting to go into detail.
"Oh." Is all Clu said.
"How much longer until we reach the Tower?" Tony asked.
"We're almost there, just a few more minutes." Clint said. A few moments later they could all see the large tower that said Stark in the front appearing before them. Clu tried to peer around Tony to get a better look but his bindings were restraining him from doing so, Clu made a distasteful grunt and tried breaking free from his bindings again.
"You can land on the roof." Tony said.
"Right." Clint said with a nod as he landed the Quinjet on the roof of Stark Tower. |
81c29474d610484c95c6ca1139fd94b2 | ['d788da1f6ca34d3db58d17311a85afae'] |
The logical solution
**Author's Note:**
> Okay, this is un-betaed and who ever is the first one to click on it is the first one to read it.
> Obliviously I don’t own Leverage or the characters. Not canon compliant. I just thought of it as I began to re-watch the series.
>
> P.S. English is not my native language and I apologize for any mistakes I made. A quick feedback in hindsight of the grammar and such things would be appreciated.
>
> P.P.S Let's see how many people get which series I also re-watch at the moment.
Even though it would hurt he knew he had to do this. He was the reasonable one, he wasn’t the one who broke bones for a living, he wasn’t the one who grifted people, he wasn’t the one who breaks into safes as his hobby and he surely wasn’t the one who got them into this mess. He was the one who used logic, and this was the logical solution. He had to die.
Hardison leaned back and slowly breathed out. Again, one of Nates crazy ideas went down the drain, but this time it took also took the back up plans with it. Parker and Sophie were trapped by the bad guys, while Nate was still knocked out. Eliot had also been caught by the opposing counsel and lost his headset, so talking with him was out of question.
Mind made up, he searched for the equipment which would hopefully help him in freeing his comrades before he went down. While packing he recalled how everything began.
Three days before
Their client was a young woman called Miriam Lass, her husband had been a developer and designed a security software for the government. His wife told them that he had been happy and loved his job, loved his land. Suddenly everything went downhill as her husband – Will – had been kidnapped. The government thought he was a traitor and sent a ‘clean up crew’ as Eliot called them. Instead of finding the abducted developer, the whole crew turned up dead and the higher ups thought that Will was the killer.
Hardison himself had been the one to find the connection to Promar Soft Inc., a company with connections to the Iran, who was highly interested in the code of the software. After this Nate hatched another harebrained plan of his, with the goal to safe the husband and prove his innocence.
But Nate hadn’t accounted that Will committed suicide since he didn’t want to betray the land he loved. Somehow the boss of the security caught wind of the scheme and warned their target. The CEO of the company turned then the tables against them and now Alec was the only one who wasn’t captured.
Now that he knew of them, the CEO first researched them and then contacted him. The business man told him he had two choices: Either he scarified himself and hacked the software or his friends were dead. Which brought him back to the current situation.
Taking Lucille, he droved as fast as possible to the hideout were the exchange would be. After arriving the black man took a few deep breaths to center himself and tried to calm down. If everything went according to his plan, then the others would soon be free. Alec himself would be dead but as long the others were fine, he didn’t care about that bit.
Hardisons only regret was that he didn’t tell ‘that person’ his feelings, but well, it wouldn’t matter, since this person wasn’t going to return his feelings anyway. So, he shrugged that regret of. Steeling himself, he took his bag and laptop and went inside. There he was immediately surrounded by guards who ‘accompanied’ him through the abandoned industrial building. In the middle they stopped and shoved him through a door. In there were his teammates, bound to chairs and linked to a bomb.
They looked worse for wear, but at last they were alive and breathing.
“Alec Hardison” greeted the middle-aged man him, “Its nice to finally meet you. In my branch you hear some names and yours was one who was often mentioned, accompanied by fear in their voices.” “Nice to know I have a fan.” was his sarcastic reply before he could stop himself. The man didn’t seem bothered, what’s more he began to heartily laugh.
Finally, the laugh weakened to a few giggles – which led Hardison to believe that something wasn’t right with his head – and the man righted himself: “I heard you were funny, but hearing you in real life, man, I wanted that so much.” ‘Okay obliviously something is very wrong with his head.’, Alec thought to himself, but outwardly answered: “Oh? That’s something new. Most people like to avoid me.” “Yeah, I wanted to meet you so much. I went all out for you.”
This confused the hacker: “What do you mean?” The CEO looked the black man deep into the eyes: “This whole scene. I kidnapped the developer after I found out what you and your crew is up too. After this I made sure that the government sends their clean up after him and killed them. Finally, I gave the wife the anonym tip to go to you. And now I caught your crew, which brings us to the current situation. You and me here.” Dumbfounded Alec looked at the psychotic man, sure that his friends were just as surprised.
“So, this whole thing was a trap, so that we could meet?”, Hardison wanted to confirm. The man smiled bigly at him: “For the first date you have to go all out, or not?” “First date?”, the hacker chocked out. “Of course. I want to know you. What I was hearing wasn’t enough anymore. I crave you; we did be perfect together.” | 9c3e5a3d34b3402f82f5b54d18e998b4 | ['d788da1f6ca34d3db58d17311a85afae'] | A loud groan brought him back to reality and he saw his best friend Sherlock beside him. “Your father hates me.”, the curly-haired man told him. The black-haired sighed: “He doesn’t hate you Sherly.” “Don’t call me Sherly, Jamsie.”, the young man replied annoyed, “And if he doesn’t hate me, how else will you explain how he acts around me.” That could be his chance to get his friend on the track to his father, but what would Jim do if the other was disgusted? Thinking quickly, he answered: “Why would matter if he hates you? A lot of people do that. And even if he does, he knows me better then to try to forbit me hanging out with you.” The black-haired man looked at his best friend and – to his surprise - saw him blushing.
Eyes widening the pieces began to fit: “You like him.”, he said stunned. Somehow James never thought that the self-declared sociopath would admit his feelings, even to himself. He thought that he would have to manipulate his friend and father into admitting their feelings. This however made things easier. Getting back to the situation he saw his friend watch him with worry. Seeing this he grinned and teased his friend: “Ohh, does someone has a daddy-kink?”
“Shut up, Jim.”, noticing the curly-haired mans discomfort, he became serious: “You like my dad. Admit it.” “I won’t admit anything.” “Well then I won’t tell you.” Sherlock frowned: “Won’t tell me what?” Smirking the black-haired man told him: “Well what I won’t tell obviously.” The brunet tried to deduce the young man across from him but knew that James won’t reveal anything if he didn’t want to. Hesitantly he nodded: “Okay, I admit, I may like your father.”
Afraid to see disgust in the eyes of his only friend he looked down, only to miss the surprise and happiness flitting across Jim’s face. “That’s good.”, he suddenly heard. “What?”, he exclaimed surprised and looked up again. “I said: ‘That’s good.’, because I’m sure my dad also likes you.” “What are you talking about? I’m twelve years younger then him. He wouldn’t like someone inexperienced like me. Or someone as broken as me.” “You’re not broken. And I think the inexperience makes it hotter for him. Nobody has tainted you until now. And look how he sees it. He is twelve years older then you and longs to be with you. In the eyes of society, they would damn him, call him a cradle robber. Ask him if he was a pedophile. Or if he pays you. But still I haven’t seen my father looks so interested in a person, since I know him, which is like forever. Which I think makes him afraid, so he tries to push you away. Because in his eyes he got nothing to offer you. Maybe money, but since your family is well off, not even that could sway you. So, he tries to push you away and keep his distance.”
After his tirade, Sherlock looked thoughtful. James hoped that his friend would make the right decision and he could help achieving his father a little bit of happiness. Even if it was with a man who was twelve years his junior. But in the end Sherlock was better, than some off the high-class woman. Who with their vapid mind, sharp tongues and awful gossip, let even John become homicidal.
“Okay.”, his friend nearly whispered, “I want him. Even if he is thirty-three and I’m twenty-one. No matter what others are saying or thinking. If you think I have a chance with him I want to try.” Happy with the decision of the brunet, Jim smiled: “Well then leave everything up to me. I have the perfect plan.” With that the aspiring detective huddled closer to his friend and listened to him explain his plan.
A few hours later John arrived home and saw a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits standing on the kitchen table. The tea was still warm, and the doctor smiled. His son was often thoughtful and made him a cup of tea when he knew, that John would arrive shortly. After drinking his cup and reading the newspaper, he felt tired and decided a nap would do him good. With that he laid down and went to sleep.
As John began to wake, he noticed that something was different. He tried to move but found himself unable to. The solider took over and he opened his eyes and analyzed the situation: he was in his room; his arms and legs were bound to the bed with thick ropes and he was naked. His clothing was mostly gone, only his pants remained. “What-?”, he tried to escape, but it was futile. “Don’t try it, dad.”, the man heard a voice, which he recognized as his sons. “James, what are you doing?”, the doctor wanted to know, but Jim ignored him, the man would get it soon enough. “I want you to know, what ever happens next dad, that I’m completely okay with it. In fact, I even organized it. I only want you to be happy.” With that the black-haired man left the room, ignoring the confused shouts of his father.
“He means what he says.”, a second voice told the still bound ex-solider. “Sherlock, what-?”, the man asked as he recognized the voice of his former best friend and secret crush. Suddenly Sherlock sat on his lap, just as naked as he is.
“What are you doing? Is this some kind of game between the two of you?” “No. I want you. And Jim told me that this feeling is requited.” John began to blush and tried to get out of the ropes again: “Sherlock we can’t. I’m twelve years older then you. And not just that. What would your parents say?” The curly-haired man bended down and began to kiss the neck of the bound man, who unconsciously drew his head back to offer more to the young man straddling him. “I don’t care what they say, or anyone else. I don’t care that you are older than me. I only care about you. Please John. Don’t reject me. Don’t reject us, only for something little as a few numbers.”
While he told this Sherlock kissed further down on Johns neck, until he reached the point where it met the shoulder. There he sat up to look the struggling man in the eyes. “John, I love you.”, this was his secret weapon, his trump card, as James called it. He saw the moment the doctor made his decision and heard the barley whispered words of “I love you too” Smiling he kissed John and let everything else run its course.
The next morning, he awoke and found himself still in the embrace of John, which let him be grateful that he could call Jim his friend and John his lover. All while John marveled how everything turned out. Jim meanwhile was happy for his best friend and dad and wondered how it would have been if he hadn’t been adopted and saved by John. But shrugging these thoughts off, he instead thought how he could snag himself the man he desired and went to plan.
All while fate watched them, happy that everything now stood corrected. |
0775e041ea4d4957b4ad640341099d42 | ['d7b3ce06e409422a824eacb5f248a662'] |
Humanity
**Author's Note:**
> My first fic ever posted. Constructive critique is welcome, of course.
Jack was sleeping, holding Merida as close to him as possible. Even though he was now human himself, he was still obsessed with the redhead's ever radiating warmth as he was still not used to the feeling of the cold.
Ten years. That's how long it has been since he has given up his role as a guardian of childhood to be with Merida. He remembered freaking out when he saw a gray hair in his now chocolate locks. It was just one strand, he was only physically 27 years old of course but it just reminded him of the sacrifice he made. He traded in an immortal childhood for a slow but sure death that all mortals must face.
But unlike the mortals, he had a choice between life and death and he chose death.
It wasn't till Jack saw a curly gray strand in Merida's hair when he started being joyful about his own gray hairs as it reminded him who he is growing old with and why he made the choice he did and he would not change it for the world.
He was knocked out of his existential thoughts when his the now familiar pitter patter of feet came running in the bedroom
He opened his eyes and sure enough, two large blue eyes hidden beneath tangled curly brown bangs was peering into his own.
"What are you doing up, Otterpop?," he asked his three year old daughter, Freya.
"My tooth fell out," she told him, happily.
Jack smirked as he saw that one of Freya's front teeth was gone.
"Oh no, did you it hide under your pillow?," he asked sitting up and putting on his robe,"you know the Tooth Fairy is very serious about that?"
She nodded excitedly before pulling Jack out if bed. If there was one thing he missed about being a Guardian of Fun is the immunity to being exhausted.
But, alas, he let his ecstatic three year old drag his half awake body to her room.
"You should see them Daddy," Freya explained,"one was a small man made of gold and the other is a big, beautiful hummingbird with a baby hummingbird."
Jack's eyes widened. Sandy and Tooth? He felt an odd nervousness, for him ten years was a long time but for them, ten years was a short while and that means their disappointment and in Bunny's case; Anger, has not faded off with time.
Before he could actually prepare himself for the awkward encounter, Freya dragged him into the room.
\---
Tooth haven't been out in the field since Pitch stole the teeth and she wasn't planning to do it anytime soon but today she just felt like it.
She couldn't help but smile as she held up Princess Freya's tooth. It was white as snow, besides the blood and gums of course, and it was just her first tooth. The young girl already knew how to keep her gums healthy.
"Aww, Sandy, her first fallen tooth," she exclaimed silently to the small yet powerful man.
Sandy gave her a small smile and continued giving her a beautiful dream of a Winter Wonderland.
Jack would have liked that, she thought and then she immediately cursed her mind.
Jack Frost, in his short time with the Guardians, was a great guardian. Teaching the rest of the guardians how to actually interact with the kids. Helping them defeat Pitch Black with some fun, helping people believe in Bunny again. Tooth's doubts about the new guardian's commitment and qualification was quickly washed away. And then he saw a fiery redhead princess and Jack Frost, a person who was all snow balls and pranks was now all about love and a completely different type of commitment. A commitment that involves loving a mortal, something that was banned for any spirit of childhood. No one from the Groundhog to Tooth herself did it because of the heartbreak it would bring.
You either remain a guardian and watch the mortal die or give up your own immortality.
The famously cool and distant winter spirit was actually clingy and affectionate with Merida, it was like something possessed him.
"He's young, only 300 years old," North had reassured them,"just an infatuation."
That was quickly proven wrong as Jack's snow white hair slowly regressed back to its human brown, his powers weakened, and when he kissed Merida, he had thawed out completely.
Tooth did not get it, why would someone throw away the rare honor of being guardian of childhood to be human?
Suddenly, Melanie eyes flew open and Tooth immediately jumped back in shock, her loyal Baby Tooth hiding behind her. Meanwhile Sandy just slowly backing up into the corner,
However the girl didn't seem scared or shock, she just looked like she just saw her favorite relative for the first time in years.
"Hi Tooth, Baby Tooth, and Sandy," she greeted slowly sounding out each syllable.
Baby Tooth? Not even Jamie, the of all believers knew about Baby Tooth's name until he saw her with his own eyes. Tooth was immediately curious.
Sandy gave her a small wave.
"Hi Frey-," she started but before she could finish, the curly haired brunette jumped out of bed and ran out of the room.
Oh Cavity, not another Sophie. She probably scared off more kids than Pitch Black at this point.
Tooth hid under the bed, feeling even more like the boogeyman, while Sandy hid under the dresser. Meanwhile Baby Tooth just remained hovering in plain sight.
She wanted to reach out and grab her most loyal worker but she already heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.
Baby Tooth started chirping angrily at the adult.
"Yeah, yeah I know it has been too long, I've been busy, being prince of Dunbroch is actually pretty tiring," a voice explained,"I have been travelling the world for nearly a year to settle trade disputes. | 1979562834404169be6d3fbf2e547137 | ['d7b3ce06e409422a824eacb5f248a662'] |
Between Ice and A Cold Place
**Author's Note:**
> This is a story before "Humanity" but it takes place in the same alternative universe. Probably will rearrange the stories later. Also should I write one with Merida and Jack meeting Hiccup and Astrid or Rapunzel and Eugene?
North frowned as he saw a sleeping Jack snuggling up to the fire, his defrosting hair hanging in his face. It would have normally been a nice sight to see if Jack Frost was supposed to sleep and his hair was supposed to be a mess of brown and white and if fire wasn't usually toxic to him.
Sandy needed to hurry up convincing The Man in the Moon to come to the North Pole. Jack had been becoming more weak over the past six months and it has not been looking up for the usually jovial guardian of fun.
"He had been asleep for nearly twelve hours," North muttered as he combed through Jack's thick locks, flinching at how cold and damp the hair was between his fingers.
"He's getting worse," Tooth muttered
"He's dying," Bunny corrected,"I knew him being with that mortal would do that to him."
Sadly, North agreed with Bunny's statement the most. Jack was still cold all the time but was no longer immune to it and needed constant heat to stay alive. North couldn't blame Princess Merida however, she didn't force Jack to fall in love with her. The heart wants what it wants...even when it might be fatal.
"Maybe he and Merida should break up and see if he gets better," Tooth suggested.
It was no coincidence that Jack been more sick since he had been more committed to Merida. Tooth had always had a bit of an unrequited infatuation with Jack so she was not particularly fond of the redhead princess. But Bunny disliked, well more like hated, Merida the most; seeing her as distracting Jack from his guardian duties.
"Dat is not going to work, Tooth, Jack is adores Merida more than snow days and pranks combined," North reminded. He remembered when North
Jack started shivering so suddenly it made North flinch back and the Russia stood helplessly as he watched a large section of Jack's hair turned brown.
North had never felt so worried about someone before in his life. Jack was the closest thing that any of them had to a child of their own since Jack was the youngest of the guardians.
Bunny hopped towards Jack so fast that it made North's head spin and scooped the boy up his arms carefully into his arms.
"What are you doing with Jack?," North asked.
"The North Pole is too cold for him now, the Warren would be much warmer don't you think?!," Bunny snapped,"you guys get the redhead sheila and we can have a little meeting."
North knew when the more worried Bunny becomes, the more irritable he would get and when Jack became sick, no one could talk to Bunny without getting yelled at. Before North could protest, Bunny stumped twice on the ground, and fell into the tunnels as he tightly held onto Jack.
\----
Just as Bunny predicted, Jack got better after some time in the Warren. It wasn't much, Jack was sweating cold sweat and his breathing was shallow and he hasn't been talking much. But at least he was finally out of his deep slumber. Bunny would never admit it but seeing Jack, someone known for his lively and joking nature sleeping for more that twelve hours each day terrified him more than whatever Pitch was able to shovel out of his lair. Bunny would give every whisker he had just to see Jack bouncy and...well...fun again.
"You know you guys don't have to constantly watch over me everyday," Jack explained, his voice still heavy with sleep,"I was alone for 300 years so I am pretty self-reliant."
Bunny winced at Jack's statement, Fifteen years after working with the young seasonal spirit and the guilt of ignoring the boy for 300 years still loomed over the Pooka.
"I'm sorry about that mate, but you are our friend and we aren't going to let you suffer anymore than you already had."
Jack doubled over and Bunny immediately started rubbing his friend's back
"You guys aren't making things easier, you know?," Jack hissed as he looked up.
Bunny was left puzzled. What the bloody hell was Jack talking about?
When Jack looked back up Bunny's eyes widened as he noticed one of Jack's famous icy blue eyes have reverted back to a light chocolate.
"Your eyes, mate..."
"What about them?!"
At that moment North, Tooth, Sandy, Merida and The Man in The Moon crashed in the Warren on the sleigh. And if he finds out that North had crushed some of his eggs before winter...
Merida ran towards Jack and engulfed him in a hug.
"You idiot, why did I have to hear from Santa and the big hummingbird that you were sick and not you?!"
Bunny couldn't help but notice Tooth rolling her eyes.
Jack's hair had quickly started turning brown when Merida hugged him and by the time they stopped, his hair was perfectly symmetrical of brown and white.
"I didn't tell you because nothing was wrong," Jack answered as he glared at the guardians,"why did you guys bring her? I didn't want Mer to see me like this! I didn't even want you guys to see me like this!"
"It was my idea," Bunny explained,"you weren't listening to us but you might listen to Merida since you are dying because of her."
The frustration he had towards the Dunbroch princess just slipped off his tongue.
Sandy facepalmed, North started looking up at the sky like he didn't want to be there, Tooth nodded in agreement Manny remained silent and observant. Bunny didn't care, the elephant had been in the room for two years and it was time to set it on fire. |
8678007f96d446d48c6cc2b48fb88f09 | ['d7e8ef8983d24e8199cc7223c80a9fe0'] |
Maelstrom
**Author's Note:**
> I received a word prompt from @oceansinmychest on Twitter: KNEEL.
>
> Here's my interpretation.... :)
The two way sizzles and cracks, like thunder’s warning call for the looming storm.
Dark eyes burn with anger as she watches the squall unfold on the CCTV screen. Her gut reaction had been to resist then neutralize the threat, but Hurricane Lucy threw a kink in things by pressing a dirty syringe to her little mouse’s throat. Panic flares in her gut as those wide ocean eyes peer into the camera, threatening to send a tidal wave of fear cascading from them. She knows the pleading look within them is meant explicitly for her. A sour shot of bile creeps up her throat, but she maintains a cool exterior despite the acrid sting. Anger flares to hate as she resigns to give up control in order to protect her beloved deputy.
“Alright, the unit is now open.” She snarls into the radio as she watches the inmates react on the screen. The first slides the gate open and the other three follow closely behind, Vera still in a choke-hold by the third hooded teal figure.
The officers inside appear from within, hands held high in surrender as they approach the group of prisoners at the exit. The first teal figure aggressively closes in and devests them all of their radios and batons before forcing them to retreat out of the unit and down the corridor. Their access now unrestricted, the miscreants move across the threshold.
“You are to leave Deputy Bennett outside and unharmed.” Joan barks into the two way; a last ditch effort to protect from afar. The last teal figure turns toward the camera, her thick fingers bringing the radio to her tea towel covered mouth, “But we’re not done playing with her just yet,” she goads with a menacing laugh.
Rage spreads like lava through Joan’s veins, sending a high pitched ringing in her ears. She slams the radio into Channing’s chest, “Call in your beloved SESG,” she yells as she shoves past him towards the door.
“Wh-where are you going?” He bellows incredulously behind her.
“To get Vera.” The fury in her voice makes the entire room cower.
Long legs carry her quickly through the dingy teal maze, as she moves predator-like through the fluorescent lit corridors. She’s not sure yet who’s behind this coup, she just vows that they’ll pay richly for challenging her authority and for threatening her precious right hand.
Approaching the slot, she slows her gait, stopping just around the corner as she hears muffled voices as they approach. Slipping quickly into a janitor’s closet, she closes the door just as they round the corner. She waits until the footsteps fade to silence and gives it another count of twenty before she slips wordlessly from the closet and heads into the unit. She moves down the row of cells quickly, peeking through the small rectangular windows as she goes. In the fourth one on the left, where Smith had been held, is where she finds her prize.
Her heart jumps into her throat when she sees Vera’s small body curled up on the cot, her head tucked firmly into the knees she’s drawn up tightly to her chest as she sits on the edge of the frayed mattress. Fumbling for the skeleton key on her belt, she unlocks the bolt and slips inside. Vera immediately lifts her head, shifting herself back against the wall, hands raised in a defensive manner.
“Vera, it’s alright, it’s just me,” she whispers as she enters the small cell and closes the door. It takes a moment for Vera to register Joan’s face, before she finally drops her trembling hands like dead weight. Joan slowly approaches as Vera stares in a wide-eyed state of shock. A stream of blood drips down her cheek from a gash just below her left eye, mixing with the trickle of tears cascading from it.
“Are you hurt? Were you stuck?” Though her expression remains calm, her voice conveys a touch of worry. Glassy-eyed Vera peers up in her direction, “I don’t...think so,” she replies in a daze, absent-mindedly reaching for her neck.
In a rare role reversal, Joan kneels before her deputy, though her knees protest the position. It’s a small price to pay to ensure her deputy’s safe. Gently she reaches for the collar of Vera’s jacket and shirt, pulling back the stiff material to check for any marks or scratches. In a bout of good fortune, the skin is unscathed. The anger in her abysmal eyes dissolves as she meets Vera’s gaze and sees the terror plastered on her ashen face.
“I...I thought they were going to kill me.” Vera whispers as her bottom lip begins to tremble. Suddenly a torrent of tears escape her seafoam eyes and she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Joan’s ribs and burying her face into Joan’s neck, her narrow shoulders heaving with the force of her sobs.
Immediately Joan freezes, mouth agape, as she’s caught off guard by the unanticipated reaction and the initial discomfort of such an intimate embrace. Vera’s tears begin to soak her collar and she feels the heat of her breath as it comes in pants against her neck and she’s suddenly overcome with relief as she realizes how very differently the situation could have gone. The thought of Vera being badly harmed or killed makes her heart race and stomach churn violently.
As if a veil has been lifted, she finally recognizes that she can no longer run away from her emotions. With hands trained for violence, she slowly reaches up and returns the embrace, resting a porcelain cheek against the soft waves of Vera’s head as she gently cradles it into her neck with her left hand. She coos softly in Vera’s ear, offering comfort that she’s never had cause or confidence to give.
“I’m here now; I’ll protect you.” _ Always. _
A tender kiss pressed to Vera’s crown seals the promise. | aafdedfebb5146b491e66b7f7851a828 | ['d7e8ef8983d24e8199cc7223c80a9fe0'] |
Domestic Longing
**Author's Note:**
> I recently asked for prompt suggestions on Twitter (@reveriesapphic) and this is one of the suggestions I received. I hope you guys enjoy it and I'm working on another I hope to share soon. Let me know what you think!
8pm on Friday is Joan’s designated time for grocery shopping. When all the festive, happy people of the city are out doing their weekend socializing, leaving her to shop in peace. Aside from the few other solitary (lonely) individuals that seem to prefer the same schedule, the store is always mostly empty, thus minimizing her interaction with strangers or the chance of a surprise run-in with a colleague.
Rounding the corner into the frozen aisle, she’s confronted with the very thing she tries to avoid. Precariously perched atop the metal bar that runs along the bottom of the freezers, Vera stands tiptoed, reaching for a box near the back of the top shelf. She gnaws her bottom lip in concentration, the hem of her green cotton dress showing off a generous portion of lean thigh as she strains to further extend her limited reach. Rather than be perturbed by the intrusion into her private life, as she usually sees it, Joan finds herself drawn closer to the curiously enthralling view.
Vera doesn’t notice her approach, nor does she see the salacious wonder in Joan’s dark gaze as she watches her for a moment in her dogged pursuit. Compelled to play the saviour, Joan eventually steps in behind the smaller woman, “Allow me,” she purrs as she reaches for the box and brings it down to Vera’s eye level. With a start, Vera yelps and steps down from the bar, turning to look up into Joan’s dark eyes that sparkle with a hint of seduction.
“G-governor, you startled me.” Vera states as she clutches a slim hand to her fluttering heart.
“My apologies. You just appeared as if you required assistance.” Joan states in her customary authoritarian cadance, though a ghost of a smile plays on her aristocratic mouth. Sheepishly Vera reaches for the box of pizza, “Thank you,” she whispers with a shy smile as she takes the proffered box and places it in her trolley.
There’s an awkward pause between them as they meet each other’s gaze, both appearing as if there’s unsaid words lingering on their tongue. Joan ends the awkward stalemate with a sharp inhale. “Well, have a good evening and enjoy the rest of your weekend, Vera.” She offers a slight nod of her head before turning and moving down the aisle, leaving Vera a bit dumbfounded in her wake.
She’s never seen Joan out of uniform before and she’s taken aback by how graceful and quite attractive the usually stern woman appears. Black leggings and a slim fitting charcoal shirt show off her Junoesque frame as she saunters to the end of the aisle before disappearing around the corner. Vera gulps at the sudden flush that burns across her chest and turns her trolley to quickly head off in the opposite direction. She hates looking like a fool, but there’s something about Joan that always leaves her a bit speechless.
She finishes the rest of her shopping in haste, continually looking over her shoulder to see if the governor’s watching. She breathes a sigh of relief when she finally makes it to the only open check-out line where a young man, not more than twenty scrolls through his phone, clearly looking bored and definitely annoyed by getting stuck with the Friday evening shift. She unloads her trolley and hands over her collection of shopping bags to the young man with a small smile. He nods and looks at her pityingly, as if he knows she spends every Friday night alone.
“Well, we meet again.” The husky timbre interrupts her thoughts of self-pity and she turns to find Joan standing just behind her trolley, her star-shot hair framing her porcelain features like a china doll. Vera laughs nervously, again feeling that odd lump in her throat as she offers a shy smile. “Yes, are we making it a habit?” Joan flashes a sly smile but says nothing.
The young man moves at a glacial pace ringing up Vera’s items and she shifts nervously, feeling Joan’s gaze upon her back. She wants to turn around and speak, if for nothing more than to get another look at Joan in casual dress, but she can’t think of anything to say so she feigns distraction by rifling through her purse.
Transaction complete, she finally turns to make eye contact with her boss and offers a bashful smile, “Have a good weekend, Governor. I’ll see you Monday morning.” Joan grants a reserved smile in return with a gracious nod of her head. “Likewise, Vera.”
Outside she loads the bags into her car, then heads back up the lot to place her trolley in the return. On the way back, she passes Joan loading her purchases into the boot of her black sedan and she stops as a nervous flutter alights in her stomach. Approaching the older woman, she stops just as Joan rises to reach full height, towering high over Vera despite the flat shoes she is wearing. A flash of surprise dances across Joan’s gaze but is quickly replaced with interested curiosity as she registers it’s Vera at her side.
“Ummm, governor, would you...care to join me for a drink?” Nerves cause the stutter and a prickingly heat begins to crawl up the back of her neck as she watches the older woman intently.
Joan’s mouth falls open as if she plans to speak, but suddenly it closes and she simply gestures with her eyes to the bags of groceries in the car. Vera follows her gaze and offers an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, right. Yea ok, nevermind then,” she responds in a rush, feeling like a fool for her silliness. “Have a good night, governor,” she offers again with a hasty smile as she turns to walk away.
“Vera.” She stops in her tracks and turns back to Joan, dipping her chin to try and hide her rosy cheeks that she knows are visible even in the dim amber glow of the car park lights.
“Tomorrow evening, perhaps.” Joan offers smoothly, catching Vera completely off guard
“Umm, sure.” She smiles nervously at the older woman.
“Good. How about 7pm, my place. I’ll cook dinner, you bring the wine.”
“Yea, ok; sounds great.” Vera replies with a smile and nod as she slowly turns to walk away.
“And Vera,” Joan calls as she closes the boot and grabs the trolley. Vera spins around to make eye contact as Joan continues with a warm smile “do call me Joan.” |
d58c685d67b6494abcb3c2233790d8c8 | ['d7ee0dfb1dba48ee964ca22fac486cb7'] | He could not cry, because of course, his father would never allow him to cry in front of other people, but inside, his heart was broken. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to never explore the grounds without her again or never eat her biscuits again. How was he meant to go off to Hogwarts in just a few short years if his mother wasn't there to send him off on the train? Who would help break up the misery of existence that his father imposed on him?
He hated how his father could stand there, accepting condolences for the loss of his wife, when he was responsible for her death.
Theo couldn't recall what the argument was about, in particular, but he did remember that it seemed trivial in response to his father's rage. His father had shouted at his mother, until she cowered in fear on the settee, and his father still menaced forward, until his hands were wrapped around his mother's neck.
Even though he was just a child, he'd tried to stop his father, pleading with fat tears in his eyes, for his father to just let her go - couldn't he see the terrified look in his mum's eyes, wild and surprised, his fingers clawing into the skin of his hands? All Theo had gotten for his trouble was a swift backhand and a bloody lip. His mother had still died all the same, and Theo had to live with the knowledge that his father was unequivocally a _monster_.
After the funeral was completed, Theo had wanted nothing more than to hide away in his room, like he'd done since his mother died, and curl up in bed with Boots, his faithful crup. He wondered if the heartache that he felt could ever possibly go away, or if it was something that he was destined to live with for the end of his life.
However, reprieve did not come easily, which his father pressing his withered hands to his young heir's shoulders, guiding him to his father's study. He poured himself a sturdy glass of firewhiskey before adding a splash into another heavy tumbler for Theo. Theo had taken a small sip, his feet dangling off the edge of the couch, and _tried_ not to make a face at the burn in his throat.
His father had laughed at him, one of the first times that Theo had seen the man express _any_ form of mirth, only to scowl when he saw the reproachful look Theo gave him. "Don't look at me like that, boy," his father scolded swiftly. "You'll thank me for it one day."
Theo wasn't sure if he was referencing the firewhiskey or his mum, but he doubted that he could ever find it in his heart to feel _anything_ but hatred for the older man.
Taking a long drink, his father pressed the crystal glass to his head, his eyes going to someplace else while the fire crackled away in the hearth. "I'll admit, your mother did at least _one_ good thing in her sorry life, besides giving me you," he said, spitefully. When Theo did not take the bait to ask him what it was, his father prodded him. "Aren't you going to ask me what it was, boy?"
"What was the one good thing my mother did?" Theo asked, his voice sounding impossibly small and sullen. He wanted to shout at his father and tell him all the _amazing_ things that his mother was capable of, and had showed him, but he knew that it wasn't wise to purposely antagonize the man.
"She arranged a betrothal for you," his father answered, a smile on his face. "Would you like to know who your future bride is?"
Theo was stunned to hear that his mother would have done something like that, when he knew how desperately unhappy she'd been in her own arranged marriage. He was hurt that she would have done something like that without discussing it with him first. "Who am I to marry, father?" he asked, feeling a lump form in his throat.
"Someday, once you've both left your schooling, you will marry Daphne Greengrass," his father said, delighting in the look on his heir's face. "Your mother might have been a _muggle lover_ , but at least she knew the right sort of stock to choose from. The Greengrasses are just as pure as us, and that's not something many families can boast of. I'm sure Abraxas Malfoy is already furious to know that we've gotten one of the them already."
Theo didn't particularly _care_ what the Malfoys thought. He knew that he didn't want to marry Daphne Greengrass, the annoying girl with the twin plaits. In his mind, he could think of nothing but her promise that she would never be friends with him. Had his mother doomed him to a marriage that would be as utterly unhappy as his parents had been?
At least he knew that he would _never_ treat Daphne like his father treated his mother.
With a shudder, Theo stood up from the couch. "May I be excused, father?" he asked, worried that he was about to break down and cry right there in front of him.
More concerned with his whiskey than his child, his father waved him away. Theo retreated to his bedroom, hating the tears that rolled down his cheeks the whole way. When he got back to his room, he let himself cry as hard as he needed, the whole time wondered just what his mother had been thinking. He wished then more than ever that she was there to comfort him, to explain.
He remembered her promises that he and Daphne made a handsome couple and he wondered if she was able to see something that he hadn't. She'd been insistent that their feelings would change as he grew older. Was that possible? | 08842f4f6b8c4032b7062188eacd5c6c | ['d7ee0dfb1dba48ee964ca22fac486cb7'] | Madam Malkin directed Hermione back behind a curtain so that she could disrobe to a level to get proper measurements. Pulling the tape measure from around her neck, a quick notes quill began writing down all of the pertinent numbers she would need to pick up the robes. "Don't you just use magic to measure?" Hermione found herself asking, remembering that in her time, Madam Malkin barely spared her a second thought when getting her uniform.
"Customers like to know that I take their clothing needs seriously," she explained, pushing a bit of dark hair back out of her face. "Taking measurements by hand is more accurate - magic can't understand the _fit_ that you'll want. Stand up straighter, dear."
Hermione supposed that that made sense to her. She corrected her posture, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mind began to wander, curious to know what the uniforms would be like in the late sixties. The Hogwarts uniform was notoriously out of fashion and hadn't seemed to be updated in at least a decade, so there was a possibility that it wouldn't have changed. The brunette thought that might be nice - the less change, the better, she figured.
Besides, she already had so much on her mind without having to feel uncomfortable in some new scratchy uniform, like how she was going to get back to her proper time. Dumbledore had _told_ her to be patient and he would talk to her once she got to school, but it seemed like there was more and more chance of her irreparably changing the future the longer she stayed there. Arthur never seemed to have recognized her back in the future, though, so perhaps she wasn't actually there for all that long.
The two women were startled out of their silence a few moments later by the sound of the bell chiming, announcing another patron. Summoning a uniform, Madam Malkin handed it to Hermione. "Here, put this one and then meet me outside at the stand," she instructed, before leaving her to go greet her other customer.
Hermione quickly slipped into the uniform. It was not all that different from the one she had, except that the silhouette was slightly different. The waist was a bit higher and the hem a bit longer. She was pleased to note that the cut of the white cotton blouse was much more feminine as well. While wearing a uniform was never ideal, Hermione thought to herself, she could do worse for her figure.
She couldn't hear Madam Malkin murmuring with the man who had come in any longer, so she hoped that the coast would be clear, and crept out from behind the curtain. Standing on the platform, she turned around, looking at herself from every angle thanks to the multiple mirrors.
A quiet chuckle startled her out of her little daydream. Spinning around, Hermione was surprised to see a young man, around her age, sitting in a chair and watching her. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she apologized quietly.
"Why are you apologizing?" he asked, his lips pursed together in amusement. "It's not as if you've done anything wrong."
"You're right," she agreed, feeling nonplussed. "I take it back."
His smile broadened, showing off imperfect white teeth. "Are you new to Hogwarts? You seem a little bit old to be a first year," he commented.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him anything, but she supposed that it wasn't a secret either. "I, yes, I am new this year. But, I will be going into my sixth year," she explained, taking a moment to really look at him. He was rather good looking, she decided, with his expressive blue eyes and dark, perfectly styled hair. He looked at home seated in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you getting uniforms for Hogwarts, too?" she asked, unsure if she was hoping that he would be one of her future classmates or hoping that she'd never see him again.
"Ah, we are getting uniforms, but not for me," he explained, waving in the direction of the curtain. "My little brother is going to be a first year."
"Oh," Hermione answered, nodding in understanding. She wasn't entirely sure why she was feeling a little bit _disappointed_ that she wouldn't be going to school with him. She returned her attention to looking at herself in the mirror to distract herself from the good looking man. It was probably for the best anyway, she thought to herself. There was no point getting attached to anyone in this time.
"So, are you going to be sorted with the rest of the first years?" he asked, making conversation. And why shouldn't he? It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. "Rab would be tickled to think that one of the older students would be sorted with the rest of them."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm in Gryffindor," she answered tersely. She was glad she'd been spared the embarrassment of being sorted in front of everyone, but Dumbledore thought that it would really be calling far too much attention to her. Hermione didn't even see the _point_ of being sorted when she already knew what house she was in, and the Headmaster had eventually relented.
"Gryffindor, eh?" he said, wearing another one of those amused smirks, perhaps finding humor in her forcefulness. "And does the newest member of Gryffindor house have a name?"
Just as she was about to introduce herself to him, a young boy came bursting out from behind the curtains, with Madam Malkin hot on his tail. "Alright, young man," she said indulgently. The younger brother, Hermione supposed, looked shy and nervous, and desperately like he wanted to prove himself. "We will owl you your uniforms in a day or two." |
2d2e9a457d634ef19c69f963673169ff | ['d7fa002a308f41758e6f276cf058f63b'] | The Ōtsutsuki leaned back, elbows propped against the rock. She sighed, looking up at the dimming sky. It wasn't that she was upset at what he had said, she had heard much worse, but she still couldn't help but wonder why he was so cold. Of course, losing so many loved ones most had taken a toll on him, she herself had been like that once upon a time, but with all the time she's had, she's long made peace with the world. Madara would not have the benefit of such time. She hoped he, too, would learn to accept and let go.
"I didn't think you'd be here of all places." Came a voice from behind her. A familiar redhead stepped beside her.
"Mito." Nina greeted.
"I saw Madara leaving. What happened?" She was worried for the young woman, she had grown to see her as a little sister. Though they weren't quite that close, Mito would often give her advice and they would talk for long periods of time if they had nothing to do. She heard a sigh.
"I expected he would be more trusting by now. The village can't function if he continues to be isolated." Nina watched the stars begin to show themselves.
"I know. Even his clan is more supportive than he is." Mito nodded. "Well, the village is still growing, maybe he'll open up soon enough." They both knew that was the best case scenario. "He's a stubborn man."
* * *
The sun shone brightly down on the already bustling village. Vendors stood by their carts of products, people preparing to go to their jobs, children getting ready to train with their parents or siblings.
Nina had been called in by Hashirama, saying it was important. Upon entering the Hokage Tower, she saw Madara was already speaking with the Senju.
"Ah, you're here. I need you and Madara to go check out some reports about a new village being formed in the land of Earth, they seem to be less than two hundred miles away from our boarders. These clans are notoriously hostile though, I doubt they have good intentions" There had been rumors floating around about less than agreeable clans forming mass alliances in neighboring lands. The theory was that they had heard about the formation of Konoha and it's success and decided to see if they could create an more powerful village. Tobirama, Hashirama, Nina, and Madara had already crushed some earlier formation efforts. They had gone in pairs, as Hashirama was worried about safety, but Nina had yet to be partnered with the stone cold Uchiha in front of her. "It would be best if you two leave at noon, how long do you think it will take?"
"The land of Earth is almost bordering us. Two days at most." Madara answered.
"Great, I'll be expecting you then. Good luck."
He bid them farewell and the two walked out of the tower, they headed home to pack, which happened to be in the same direction. The atmosphere was a little tense.
"Understand that I do not wish to be partnered with you." The comment was sour.
Nina blinked at his tone.
"I guess you're still stuck with me." She replied flatly.
He frowned, glaring at her from the corner of his eye.
"Stay out of my way." The demand held a tone of superiority.
The woman was unfazed, giving a small hum in response.
Not an hour later, with weapons packed, the two left the village when the sun was at its highest.
Speeding through the trees, there was no conversation between the pair, only the sound of leaves flying past.
By nightfall, after nine hours of continuous running, they had crossed the land of Earth's southeast boarder. The rising village was supposed to be directly west of their current position. They crossed a large, barren field with the occasional wilting plant. Then they came upon a sizable mountain. Next was a steep cliff with a rushing river at the bottom. Then another stretch of dead land. On the other side of that area was the side of a cliff. It was at this point that they decided to make camp, it must have been well past midnight by then. Madara sat down on his unrolled sleeping bag, silently volunteering to take first watch. Five feet away, Nina lay down on her sleeping bag that she had purchased especially for these types of missions. Her eyes were glued to the night sky. At first, Madara had thought she was looking at the stars, as he heard that was what many people do, but he soon realized the sky was cloudy that night. He briefly wondered what she as looking at, or maybe, looking for.
* * *
As the next day came, with it arrived the task of scaling the cliff. It was going to be tedious. With chakra infused soles, the two dashed up the vertical stone wall. It was the break of dawn and they had wasted no time in getting back to the mission. Ten minutes later, the two landed at the top of the cliff. The sight in front of them shook any remaining sleepiness from their eyes.
"What happened here?" Nina frowned as they landed at the bottom of the valley.
"I don't know. An enemy clan, most likely." Madara inspected one of the bloodied corpses, he was now moving with caution. The stench of blood would have been overwhelming had the two not been so accustomed to death.
"It looks more animalistic than what a shinobi would do." The shredded clothing and deep gashes on all the victims resembled that of a wolf or dog.
"Maybe a clan that uses ninken or canine summons." The faces of the people were contorted in agony, the limbs were twisted and pulled into unnatural angles. | 60b2274fab58401e8172668c82d1ef5b | ['d7fa002a308f41758e6f276cf058f63b'] |
1. Rumors
The sound of the gentle rain outside began to fade and the world slowly became quieter and quieter. She had long feared the day where the last of her hearing would go, leaving her alone in a world of black. It seems that her fears have finally caught up with her.
It won't be long now.
She silently comforted herself; it'll be ok, she's not the first to go through this and she won't be the last. This is what's supposed to happen. It'll be ok. There's nothing to be afraid of. It'll be ok.
Take a deep breath.
Calm down.
Everything will be ok.
The ever familiar image of a spiky-haired shinobi came to mind.
Surely he was already on his way here. It broke her heart to have him see her like this but she was glad to know she wouldn't be alone in her final moments.
She was endlessly grateful to have met him, even if it wasn't meant to be. If only they had been born in a different time, in different lives, perhaps then fate would have been on their side. But there's no use wishing for what has already passed, she was happy with the hand she was dealt.
It won't be long now.
As the last of the rain's pitter patter faded, she remembered how it all began. It wasn't so long ago and, come to think of it, it was a day much like this...
* * *
"Hello, my name is Senju Hashirama, this is my brother Tobirama." a tall man with long dark hair greeted the guards at the gate. "We are here to see the Imada clan leader."
The guards signaled for the tall gates to be opened, revealing a short blonde woman who bowed to the men.
"My name is Imada Samaru, please follow me."
The woman named Samaru lead the pair through the small village, weaving the worn stone paths until they came to a house that was noticeably larger than the rest. As they entered, the Senju brothers noticed that it, along with the rest of the village, had a very traditional design, almost impractically so. Though, Hashirama thought, that must be because the clan didn't have a war to worry about, unlike so many around them.
"Senju-san!" A young man no older than the brothers emerged from the building, smiling as he walked up to the pair. "It's an honor to finally meet you!"
This must be Imada Toru, the newly appointed clan head. The man was tall with long black hair tied into a neat ponytail. His striking green eyes gleamed with intellect and he had an air of elegance about him. What surprised the brothers most were the garments adorning him; they couldn't help but notice that the deep green material was unlike the ones they were used to; it was smoother and flowed like water. They knew the Imada were expert silkmakers but a piece like this was still quite the sight to see.
"Please, this way." Toru led them inside and motioned towards a small room to their right. He whispered something to Samaru before the girl bowed and shuffled away.
"Your village is very beautiful, Imada-san." Hashirama grinned politely, taking a seat in front of the low-set table.
"You're too kind." Toru closed the door and took a seat across from the guests. "Anyways, about why I asked you here. I know my late father was firmly against conducting trade with other clans, but, as stated in my letter, I believe our work is something to be shared with the world. Your clan has long showed interest in our silk, so if you're still willing, I would like to discuss a trade deal between our clans."
As if on cue, the door slid open and Samaru stepped inside, handing a roll of glossy blue material to Toru. The young man unrolled a length of it, draping the rich fabric over the table.
"So this is the famous Imada silk, its an honor to finally be able to see it up close!" Hashirama smiled, picking up one end of it. He was surprised how soft it was, certainly unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
"That's great to hear! Come, I'd like to show you some of our finished garments." Toru smiled enthusiastically.
He lead the brothers across the large building, coming to a hall of elaborate, important-looking doors. Pushing open the first one on the left, Toru stepped inside, followed by the brothers whose eyes lit up at the sight before them.
The large chamber was filled with rows upon rows of hanging kimonos, each one gleaming with the same shine that only the Imada could achieve. As he approached the one nearest to the door, Hashirama noticed the incredible detail that graced the material: an elegant peacock fanned its tail proudly, each feather on the bird was embroidered immaculately, even its eyes seemed to be staring back at him. Blue and green tail feathers were scattered across the cream surface of the kimono, as if they had been carried up in a soft breeze.
The one next to it was no less breathtaking. The silk seemed to have captured spring itself: flowers trailed up the back of the garment, twisting ever so slightly before disappearing at the collar. The rich green tone of the fabric was one of a forest in the peak of spring, it almost seemed out of place in the current autumn season. Each kimono had a uniquely intricate design, but they were all truly stunning.
"As you can see, our silks are the finest in the country. They're lighter, smoother, and have an unrivaled shine to them. I can personally guarantee that there isn't anyone who can compete with our silkmakers."
Hashirama examined the garment with great interest, cautiously picking up the fabric and running his fingers across its brilliant surface. Tobirama, on the other hand, didn't seem nearly as impressed. |
c745a347ce24453f8b88e8da54317f1d | ['d7ffdabae0e74622b652b217fa8252a0'] | But, there was Corypheus. The shemlen had already made a mess of things, and that man threatened everyone. Solas had said the orb was elven; it was only a matter of time before the People suffered the repercussions. She could make sure they were safe. The Inquisition was slowly growing, and gaining power. That power could be used for almost anything. Tracking _him,_ the monster that plagued her in dreams, would be much easier with the Inquisition’s power; she wouldn’t have to go searching all of Thedas on her own in order to get her revenge.
So she reluctantly agreed and took the blade in front of everyone (where they got the crusty old thing was beyond her. It took most of her strength to lift it skyward). In those moments, Lavellan promised to herself, swore on her vallaslin and invoking her patron’s name as she stared at the sea of faces below her, that she would only stay until Corypheus was defeated.
\---
Fate was incredibly strange, and there were times where the Creators did not seem as distant as the legends claimed. Certainly, there was something, someone fiddling with her life in a way she did not appreciate. If the Keeper had told her that her future held her at the head of a shemlen army as an idol of their fate, she would had laughed her way to the Beyond. But here Lavellan stood, blades in hands, calmly staring at the walls of the legendary fortress of Adamant, chaos erupting around her. The commander spoke rapidly, reminding her of the plan for the siege before she walked any further into the hornet’s nest. When he began repeating himself, she merely stared at Cullen with a raised eyebrow. It didn’t take much, in her quiet opinion, to silence the commander. His words began to falter. He wanted to say something else; it was in the way that he moved her hands and the pursed lips, but something flicked across his face and he remained silent instead. The signal sounded, Commander Cullen ask for the blessings of his false god, and she rushed inside.
No warning could have prepared her for what she would find within the fortress: the foolishness of the Wardens, despite their good intentions, and the Fade itself. Not the Fade of dreams; no, she was present here, in her physical form. She had to bite her tongue to hold her scream; Lavellan was no mage, a simple hunter, but the _wrongness_ of her presence hummed in her entire body, making her long legs tense and desperate to run away from it. Her companions’ fear was written on their faces; she just hoped hers was not; it would not help her shadow self’s image.
The Nightmare was a merciful name for the horrors they encountered. It deserved a worse name. It weaved itself in her thoughts, pulled at her most horrible memories, reminded her of her worst failures, teased her about the murders of her husband and her twin sister, making it difficult to separate her own thoughts from its. Finding herself facing a fragment of this monster was almost a relief. She mixed her fear with rage, and after an intense battle the party found themselves free of the Fade, back in the fray. Facing the Wardens, she saw the fear and shame in their eyes, and remembering the legends of their ferocity and skill, offered redemption in the form of an alliance. Thus was the way she convinced the legends to join the cause of the Herald of Andraste.
Upon her return to Skyhold, she was lauded and complimented on her success with the Wardens. Guilt weighed her heart; she knew she had only spared them because they were useful, and would have not hesitate to exile them if it was the better option. The guilt tore at her _because_ she did not feel guilt at her selfish decision. And the guilt only grew in the following months, because the shadow of who she was did anything to gain an advantage.
\---
One day, the consequences of pretty smiles and soft words caught up with her, and she found herself kissing the commander of her armies atop the battlements.
Then he smiled, a smile so full of innocent and a purity of affection (she dared not call it anything else) that upon returning to her rooms, Lavellan was troubled by her actions. She meant it as something to pass the time, curiosity of how a human would be different, that she never imagined it to become something serious. A fair act would be to end it now, prevent him a heartache, allow him to find true happiness. He certainly deserved it. A selfish act would be to encourage him, a way to sooth her own heartache, allow herself to find comfort.
And at some point toying with people must have become a habit of hers, because she found herself at his side more often than was wise. And in those nights that she was far away and completely, utterly alone, she silently hated the shadow of herself that was too weak to be fair to the one person who had acted with no ulterior motives, hated the shadow of herself that was betraying the man she loved for ten years, who passed on e mere year ago. She hated the shadow of herself that was so _pathetic_ that she was seeking solace with another, using him to fill the emptiness in her heart. And what she hated the shadow for, above all, was that regardless of her supposed clarity of mind and strength of character, regardless of her supposed growing stature as one of the most influential people of Thedas, was too scared of sleeping alone.
\--- | 0a8e4d56538847a8874a0133feff2b83 | ['d7ffdabae0e74622b652b217fa8252a0'] | A slave tapped the professor on the shoulder, and humbly began to speak. “O Nobility, Professor Fahir is looking for you.” Lindhall nodded absently, turning to the two young adults beside him. “Well, if you excuse me, work calls.” A brief nod to both of them, and then he was gone, cloak trailing behind him, reminding Kaddar faintly of the bats the professor so loved to discuss. For the next hour or so, Daine and Kaddar maintained a constant stream of conversation, with occasional interruptions by important Carthaki and Tortallan politicians. The prince could feel his uncle’s eyes boring into his back, watching his every move with the Gallan girl. He’s hoping I can convince her to stay, he realized suddenly. It made perfect sense and explained why his uncle was so insistent that he attended to a country girl. A person like Veralidaine would be a perfect warrior and an excellent way to harass armies without losing human lives. His mistake was taking so long to decipher his uncle’s machinations, when he had witness them his whole life. The malva mysteriously became tasteless.
“Kaddar, are you okay? You seem out of it,” Daine asked, worry slowly seeping into her voice. She had noticed that the prince was unusually distracted; something seemed to be troubling him. _He is a prince, after all. Maybe he’s worrying about princely matters. With an uncle like that, I’m not too surprised._ Kaddar looked up from his finished dessert, his expression unchanging, betraying neither the startle nor the surprise she expected. He smiled politely, shaking his head.
“I was just thinking.”
A mischievous smile danced on Veralidaine’s lips. “Too much of that’ll land you in trouble.”
He picked up on her humorous tone, knowing that she didn’t realize how true those words were. “So I’ve been warned, but nonetheless, thank you for the reminder.”
She leaned forward, talking in a hushed manner. “I know I really shouldn’t be asking you this, but you think we could visit the menagerie again? I’d like to talk to the animals. They’re so different from the People back home, and I don’t know if I’d have the chance to meet them again.” Surreptitiously searching for the slaves that could read lips, Kaddar hesitated before he nodded. He wanted to please the young lady, but a wrong move and he would find something unpleasant in his food. Veralidaine’s pleading face eventually won over his worries.
“Very well. I will inform my uncle and Master Numair of our whereabouts.” While he beckoned a slave and gave orders, Daine stood up, letting Zek readjust himself in her hair. The day they left this daft country couldn’t come soon enough, in her opinion. This country was all sorts of backwards, treating people worse than animals. Though naturally, she had to keep it all to herself for the sake of diplomacy. Kaddar turned and offered his arm in a formal matter, as they were still in the presence of influential people. She took his arm rather clumsily, chatting amiably while walking to the menagerie.
He let her wander among the animals, observing the odd respect that even the wildest of animals gave her. _Maybe the Banjiku aren’t too far from the truth._ It was an odd gift from the gods, and maybe it was her gift that made her so impetuous, so vocal in matters that did not concern women. He had come to expect a country girl with a horrible lilt, but instead found a young woman with a sharp mind and caring attitude. It didn’t surprise him that he had been enticed by such a contrary lady, something – no, someone, as she would insist - foreign, new and exotic, someone he would love to spend many evenings under the moon, discussing all the topics available to them under the Carthaki sun, without worrying what slipped out of his traitorous tongue.
A shadow spoke in a timid voice, stirring him out of his thoughts. “O, the highest of Nobility, your faithful servant brings you a message from your uncle, the Imperial Majesty Ozorne.” Kaddar resisted the urge to scowl. Who else would send him a message with such perfect timing? Hastily taking the note, he read his uncle’s neat scrawl.
_Do not fail me, Kaddar._
This time he really scowled, shoving the note into a pocket, readjusted his scowl into a gracious smile as Daine returned in a jovial mood. As she babbled about the new knowledge she had gained speaking to the plain animals, Kaddar gazed at her with a hint of sadness. _Majesty and love do not consort well together, nor do they dwell in the same place. I feel like Shakith is testing me, seeing that I can’t have such a woman, yet knowing that I will captivated by her._ He crumpled the hateful note in his pocket. He knew that was an eloquent order, not a request, and his uncle would know his heir understood the message. To not follow Ozorne’s commands meant certain punishment. This was all a game to the Emperor Mage, like that chess game he was fond of.
He thought of all the moments he had shared with the young woman in the past few days. They were nothing special, but different from the past few years in his life. They had been so delightful, despite the arguing, something different from the daily life of a heir. A tenderness filled his heart suddenly, a bud of something that had been born from those moments. Dangerous determination stirred within his chest, filling his mind with a repeating thought. _This is a game my uncle will not win. If she wishes to fly like the larks she is so fond of, then I shall not force her into a gilded cage._
In split seconds, His Royal Highness Kaddar, prince of Siraj, decided his and Carthak’s fate, gambling his life for a person he could never fully love. He could almost hear the cackle of the Graveyard Hag echoing in his ears, the roll of her dice betting on his choice.
- - -
“Kaddar, can I ask you something?” Daine inquired, having been temporarily distracted by a pair of house cats. When she turned to look at her friend, she was surprised to see him with an uptight expression, used to his calm temper. _Not uptight-determined. He seems fair determined for something._ The look evaporated the instant he met her eyes, replaced by his usual princely demeanor. Walking down the palace hallways arm-in-arm, Daine couldn’t shake off the feeling that she missed something important. |
d06e1b16d8d64630a3dd5ec478fc9b34 | ['d80d2c331639473085fe78566f891d6f'] |
1. Chapter 1
Tauriel could see the Golden Hall of Meduseld rising up out of the next hill, as early morning light glinted off its high roof. She pressed her heels into her mount’s white flanks, urging him forward. Sunrise was only an hour past, but they had been riding hard together since long before. Thranduil’s warning to Theoden would not wait.
Her horse Nimlas weaved swiftly through the rocky terrain, rarely waiting for guidance from Tauriel’s practiced movements. Their trust had grown quickly over the ride from the fringes of Mirkwood. They circled the hill to meet the single path that led upward, through Edoras to the king’s hall. Tauriel could feel Nimlas’s sides heaving from the effort of the long journey. She slowed him to a gentle walk and threw back the green hood covering her long hair as they approached the city’s half-open gate.
Two guards stepped forward to question her, but their inquiries were cursory and deferential. Tauriel’s chest swelled over a hollow ache deep in her gut. The Men of Rohan knew nothing of the ranked echelons among the Elves. They recognized her kind, if not her person, and they let her pass. Any soldiers from her last visit here would now be officers, old men, or dead.
The roads were crowded with a city’s morning bustle, and here Tauriel did not hurry. Her goal was nearly reached, and if the rumors were true, Theoden rose later and later these days.
Tauriel tried to keep her eyes focused forward, but the many sounds and sights of Edoras vied for her attention. The city had grown and changed in the years since her duties had last brought her here. The sprawl of buildings had grown wider and more dense, and the pungent smells of many Men living in close proximity assaulted her nose. Her skin prickled, as nearly everyone she passed paused to stare. She felt their eyes crawling over herself and her steed, and was suddenly keenly aware of her saddleless seat, foreign gear, and unmistakably Elven features. She sat up a little straighter.
At first, the higher she climbed, the busier the streets became. She passed through a square where vendors called out in shrill voices, hawking their wares, and later she heard the clamor of a smith at work. Gradually the crowd shifted from a hectic, interweaving bustle to a thin stream trickling toward the lower reaches. The buildings fell away, too, until the path alone stretched forward to Meduseld. After all this time, it seemed Rohan’s king still maintained some small distance from his people.
Tauriel rode to the foot of the long stone stairwell that led to the entrance. She saw pairs of Men in polished armor flanking each stand between the three flights. She swung down from her seat, landing lightly in her leather boots. It was good to sink her heels into the earth again.
One of the guards nearby whistled, and a bleary looking stable boy dashed to her mount’s head to lead him to rest. Tauriel turned back a moment to whisper soothing words to the horse in Sindarin, and smiled when the boy’s eyes widened.
“His name is Nimlas,” she confided. The stable boy’s head bobbed so violently he doubled over at the waist. Tauriel winked at him and saw his cheeks redden.
Then she faced the great doors, holding her hands out at her sides, palms forward. “I come bearing tidings from King Thranduil.”
The guard who answered was tall, fair, and broad of shoulder, calling down from his post all the way at the top of the stairs. The plume at his helm displayed his captain’s rank. “What business has the Elvenking meddling in the affairs of Men?”
The harsh words took Tauriel by surprise. She knew there had never been great love between Theoden and Thranduil, but she recalled warmer welcomes past. “My news are a gift, which King Theoden may use or discard as he sees fit.” Tauriel was keen enough to catch several guards shuffle their weight and shift their eyes before the moment passed.
The captain called down again, “Come forward.”
She took the long grey stairs slowly and steadily. The guards on either side did not move or speak as she passed, and in the stillness the sound of Rohan’s banners flapping in the breeze crackled loudly. At the highest step, she paused, waiting.
“Hand over your arms. They will await you here until you depart.”
Tauriel nodded with a half smile. This custom of the Rohirrim was familiar. She pulled her unstrung bow down from its place across her back and passed it into a guard’s waiting hands. Then she pushed back the folds of her cloak and deftly unbuckled the belt that held her twin longknives at her sides. She gave the Man these, too. He stepped back and placed the weapons carefully in the long rack braced against the wall.
The captain squared his shoulders and opened his mouth, but Tauriel held up one hand to make him pause.
She bent at the waist and drew a slender throwing knife from her left boot. This she offered to the captain with both hands, holding the blade parallel to the stone floor. When he hesitated, her mischief got the better of her, and she could not help but needle him. “Surely you would like them all?”
The captain’s eyes narrowed, but he gave in. He reached out quickly and took the knife, immediately turning to pass it to the guard beside him. Facing the Elf again, he spoke curtly. “The king does not hold audience today.”
Tauriel glanced at the heavy doors to the main hall, now closed, and a thread of worry curled in her stomach. Still, her voice did not falter. “Then I shall wait for the morrow,” she said lightly. | ee21b8290b2245129d821a114f5f1655 | ['d80d2c331639473085fe78566f891d6f'] |
When I Had One Name
**Author's Note:**
> Special thanks to D, for their continued support and help with my stories.
>
> Disclaimer: The Scion Role-Playing Game is owned by White Wolf Publishing Company. I have rights to nothing. I just write (and play), with deep appreciation.
“No can do, Marcia.”
“Aw, come on! You're always working.” Lucia's flatmate tossed her blonde curls and pouted. It was Marcia's personal mission to keep her friend running in the highest social circles, but lately Lucia was having none of it.
“My collection needs to be done by Friday. I _have_ to paint tonight.” Lucia pushed her chair back from the table, carrying her teacup to the kitchen sink. Marcia followed her, undeterred.
“You could go paint now and come out with me later.”
Lucia laughed lightheartedly. “You don’t give up, do you?” Marcia laughed, too, but she knew it was a losing battle. “Besides, you know my brother’s in town.”
Marcia was still in her pajamas calling after her for outfit advice when Lucia left the flat and headed for the tube. Two blocks from her parents’ place, she met Oscar on the street. They embraced and both started talking at once.
“How’s my little sister?”
“How’s Paris?”
They fell into comfortable conversation until they arrived on the doorstep of their childhood home. Inside they repeated all their news. Oscar passed around photos of his two little boys and accepted small gifts to carry home to them. After dinner, Lucia and her mother teamed up to wash the dishes.
Lucia’s mother carefully kept her eyes on the work, but casually asked, “Have you been seeing anyone lately?”
“I see a lot of Marcia, but not much of anyone else.” Lucia knew where this train of thought was leading.
Her mother peered at her over her bifocals. “Any suitors?”
“No, mum.”
“I hear Alexander’s fellowship is going well. He’s a surgeon now, you know.”
“Good for him.”
“We could invite his family over for dinner next week. I could make the-”
“Alexander and I were just friends, mum. And anyway, the gallery opening is next week.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
The two women fell silent for a few moments, the chink of china the only sound.
“Lucia…” her mother began. “Oscar and Lydia say they’re done with just the two. It’s up to you to give me a granddaughter.”
“I know, mum.”
It was after eight o’clock by the time Lucia said her goodbyes. Oscar and their father were pouring over maps together in the study, and absently waved her away, but her mother wrapped her arms around her and held her for a long moment. “See you soon, love,” she said.
Lucia was thoughtful on the tube back, her mind filled with painted shapes and incomplete works. Of the three pieces she was contributing to the gallery opening, only one was finished. It was going to be a late night.
As she emerged from the underground, a bitter wind nearly tore her scarf away. Fall was giving way to winter. Lucia rewound her scarf, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and marched into the wind. A block away from the studio, she stopped for a coffee. Armed with caffeine, she unlocked the door to the studio, climbed the two flights of stairs, and instantly relaxed. In this place, more so even than her flat, she felt entirely at home.
She looked at the one finished painting, the first in the series: a blue house shining in the bright light of a summer morning, looming large, an oak tree supporting a simple swing, and white fence separating the yard from its neighbor’s. The second painting was still in progress: the same house from a more sedate perspective, looking a bit more worn and real, the lighting moderate, the tree standing a bit taller, with autumn leaves, and the beginnings of a clothes line stretched across the yard and ivy covering the fence. The principle shapes were there, the details remained to be added.
Lucia moved to stand in front of the final canvas. The outline of the house was there, the skeletal shape of the oak tree, leaves gone for the winter, the lines of the fence. She couldn’t help but see what belonged in the painting - the ivy pervasive yet shrunken, the paint peeling from the walls of the house, the cracks in the pavement, the light on the porch illuminating a pair of rocking chairs, the moon peeking through the tree branches. She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall to the floor around her ankles. Her coffee sat unremembered on a shelf. Nothing existed anymore save her brush, the canvas, and the image they would slowly reveal together.
Hours passed, until finally Lucia looked up to see the clock. Half past three. She looked back at her painting, still unfinished, but something seemed different. The crescent moon was shimmering, and Lucia found herself transfixed by its pulsating light. The moon began to move in a slow, graceful arc, until it came to rest like a crown on the head of a tall figure standing under the oak tree. Lucia had not painted a person there, yet his presence came as no surprise. He simply was there, and the painting shifted to accommodate him. The man was slim, gaunt, and pale-skinned. His hair was divided into three long plaits. His bare chest was smeared with grey ash, and his forehead was marked with a third eye, closed. A serpent was draped over his shoulders, and a trident was in his right hand. His head was turned, gazing into the expanse beyond the edges of the painting. Lucia recognized him at once. Fear and awe worked in her. For a long moment she stared at him, and both of them remained motionless. Then at last Shiva turned, and his eyes connected with hers. Lucia trembled. His mouth opened, and in a bold yet sonorous voice he spoke to her. |
ca6ef7acf3fc4d66972e001e88ed6075 | ['d81530116dc64cdc96c6c16c245b27e7'] | Two hours into Himchan's birthday party and several shots leave Yongguk definitely tipsy at this point, giggling profusely as Junhong licks a strip of salt up the side of his neck and then drowns the tequila shot shortly after. Junhong shudders as he leans forward, grinning before his mouth collides with Yongguk's.
He lets out a breathy sigh when Junhong starts to gently coax his mouth open with his tongue, tracing patterns until Yongguk parts his lips just enough for Junhong's tongue to slip inside. He pushes the slice of lime that's inside forward, offering it to his boyfriend.
Junhong takes it with his plush lips, sucking Yongguk's bottom lip between them in the process. “Oh,” Yongguk blushes, surprised as his boyfriend shoves the lime back into his mouth after a few seconds, spreading the faint taste of tequila.
Their kiss is messy with both of them being tipsy and a little too eager and the obscene slurping noises they are making sound pornworthy. If Yongguk was sober right now he would probably turn as red as a tomato. However he couldn't care less about that as Junhong pulls back a little, pecking at Yongguk's swollen lips and breathing puffs of hot air against them. He only pauses for a moment to snake his arms possessively around Yongguk's waist, before lifting him up effortlessly. “Come here babe,” Junhong purrs and Yongguk lands on his lap with his legs spread wide on either side of the younger male's hip.
Junhong wastes no time and quickly reattaches their lips, immediately licking his way into the older male's mouth. Yongguk's hands automatically come up and fist into the collar of Junhong's shirt, whimpering when the blonde's hands dip down to cup his ass.
“Gah,” Daehyun gasps, shoving Yongguk off the taller male's lap, “Oh my god! I am literally right here!”
“Oh,” Yongguk giggles, baring his neck for Junhong to trail down and kiss along his jawline, “Totally forgot you're here as well.”
Daehyun rolls his eyes, “Ugh couples,” a noise of disgust follows. “Can't you guys do stuff like this at home? There are painfully single people here.”
“I could introduce you to some friends if you want to?” Junhong speaks up from where he's resting his head against the juncture of Yongguk's neck. Yongguk huffs in annoyance. The fact that they're talking right now means they're not kissing, which is an activity he'd much rather engage in.
Daehyun just shrugs, taking a sip from his drink before getting up with noticeable effort, “I'll go dancing, you guys wanna tag along?”
“You wanna dance?” Yongguk whispers into Junhong's ear. “With you? Always,” Junhong answers with one of his adorable smiles that makes people around him swoon.
The party is in full swing, house absolutely packed with people neither of them have ever seen before and therefore they have a hard time finding a place on the dance-floor that's not occupied. Only in the very corner of the living room, where the music is still pumping loudly but then again not too loudly, is still some space left. The two men push their way through the crowd, losing Daehyun along the way, who seems to have met some acquaintances and is now chatting with one of them vividly.
Junhong places his hands gently on Yongguk's waist and immediately pulls the older close, moving lazily against him to some slow Jay Park song. Yongguk is by far not the best dancer and the people around them can probably tell, but he still does his best to keep up with Junhong's pace. Junhong seems to be pretty pleased with his effort, growling lowly into Yongguk's ear as said one starts to seriously grind back against his crotch.
The air around them is hot and sticky, filled with sexual tension and the smell of booze. And Yongguk _loves_ it – loves the way Junhong keeps moving behind him with his body flush against the older one's. He can feel every shaky exhale from Junhong, every rippling movement of his muscles, he simply feels _everything_.
So it's no surprise that when Yongguk leans back and grabs Junhong by the collar of his shirt to whisper into his ear his voice comes out seducingly hoarse, “Wanna get out of here?” Junhong groans quietly in response, rubbing his crotch against Yongguk's ass one last time. He grabs the other male's hand and drags him off the dance-floor and across the entire living room faster than Yongguk imagined. He laughs loudly at Junhong's obvious neediness.
They decide on leaving through the backdoor, which just seems more convenient and also _a lot_ faster. However while crossing the room Yongguk makes a quick stop in front of the dinner table, where an all too familiar face seems to be taking body shots from another man's abs?
“Himchan?” He laughs, slapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. Himchan turns around, looking him dead in the eye for a second before saying, “I'm busy.” Then he's diving down again while Jongup only giggles in a low voice. He starts sucking the clear liquid (probably vodka?) out of every crevice of Jongup's well-defined stomach noisily.
Yongguk can hear Junhong snicker loudly from where he's standing while he himself blushes furiously as Himchan lifts the bottle to pour some more alcohol on the smaller male.
“Okay we'll be going now,” Junhong chuckles, pushing Yongguk forward impatiently. Jongup lets his head fall back to look at them. “Don't worry I haven't been drinking yet. I'm gonna watch after him,” he grins pointing at Himchan.
“Wait, you're doing this sober?” Yongguk asks, scandalized as Jongup wordlessly tangles a hand in Himchan's hair and grins at him. “Well it doesn't exactly feel bad – if you know what I mean.” | f8bd9b9419614cf79ab034984b11ee3a | ['d81530116dc64cdc96c6c16c245b27e7'] | “Great! I'll be fast I promise!” The black-haired male smiles gently, “Please be careful. And if anybody comes by, don't try to talk to them, even if they seem trustworthy. Hide yourself and wait for me to come out again.” Yongguk's a little annoyed by how much the taller male sounds like his mother did back in the old days, when she reminded him not to talk to strangers. He nearly laughs out loud at the thought.
“And Gukkie, you don't come inside until I say so, okay?”
“Yes mom,” Yongguk replies, rolling his eyes, “But what do I do if you don't come out again?”
“That won't happen,” Junhong smirks, squeezing the other male's shoulder in a reassuring manner.
He's through the front door, before Yongguk can protest (or realize how much he misses the comforting warmth on his shoulder).
*~*~
It's thirty minutes later when Yongguk hears the faint roar of an engine. It's a motorcycle, that much is clear.
He looks around, searching for a spot to hide, but the only thing close enough to reach in time and to guarantee absolute safety is the house. So Yongguk doesn't hesitate for long, he sprints over the porch and wrenches the door open, slamming it loudly behind himself. Yongguk drops to the floor, back pressed against the door as he waits, chest heaving.
The engine of the motorcycle dies down exactly in front if the porch.
“Did you hear that?” One, obviously female, voice asks.
“It's only the fucking house like always. Must be a fuckin' deathtrap with all the walkers it attracts through the noise.”
Yongguk stiffens at that. Deathtrap? He pales visibly. That would explain why Junhong's still somewhere inside this house. Yongguk is sure that Junhong usually does a quick job in getting rid of the walkers. But what if there's too many? What if Junhong got ambushed? Yongguk can't help but flinch at the thought. He only knows Junhong for about two days, thus he's really shocked by how much the thought of losing the younger male upsets him.
Yongguk doesn't hear him coming, but he notices the shift in the air that a movement causes. He's grabbing his knife, ready to whirl around and slice open whatever comes at him. However, he's not fast enough. There's a knife near his throat and fingers close around the hand that's holding the weapon. Yongguk panics immediately. The strong grip around his wrist doesn't let him move at all and the other person's knife is not close enough to actually be of any danger, which kind of really irritates him.
“Calm down,” a pleasant voice whispers and Yongguk knows who it is straightaway.
“Goddammit Junhong!” The elder male hisses. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
The black-haired man chuckles quietly, before lowering his knife and leaning in closer, “I'm sorry, Gukkie. I didn't mean to surprise you. You okay?”
Yongguk tries to suppress the shiver that runs through him, as he feels Junhong's breath brush over his ear. He fails miserably by the way.
“Yeah,” he croaks.
“I think they'll be going soon, but we should be quiet and keep down for a while,” Junhong explains, finally letting go of Yongguk's wrist, moving away a little from Yongguk's body, to give him some space.
And Yongguk can't say that he minds it too much.
They squat on the ground for about five minutes, before the engine springs to life again. Yongguk lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“I think they're gone,” Junhong says, already standing up and brushing the dust from his pants. “Let's go, I need to show you something,” he continues, grabbing Yongguk's wrist and helping him up.
“I hope it's something good, to make up for what you did to my poor heart,” Yongguk mumbles. He's a little proud of himself as Junhong shakes in silent laughter besides him.
“Don't worry, you're gonna love this,” he grins, leading Yongguk up the stairs and into the room directly opposite to the staircase. He pushes the door open and gestures for Yongguk to go inside first.
“Someone lives here,” Yongguk states, appalled.
“Lived. Past tense,” Junhong replies, grabbing Yongguk's waist and turning him around until they're facing the unmoving body of a walker. There's blood on his chest and teeth and Yongguk feels his heart-rate pick up drastically. It's _fresh_ blood.
He turns around slowly, before letting his eyes roam over Junhong's body, “Were you bitten?” And despite his efforts to sound nonchalant his voice wavers a little at the end.
“No he didn't bit me,” Junhong raises his arms in an innocent gesture.
“Then why is there fresh blood?” Yongguk asks, carefully taking a few steps back.
“That's because,” Junhong begins, following the older male again and grabbing his waist to spin him around, “He bit her.” For a moment Yongguk is tempted to grab his knife and stop Junhong from touching him, but he quickly notices what the other male is talking about.
“He ate his own dog?” Yongguk says, eying the remnants of what seems was a German Shepherd once.
“Yeah, poor thing,” Junhong's expression morphs into one of sadness and Yongguk understands him, “I don't exactly know how he died, but I'm pretty sure it might have been Dehydration.”
“He didn't die long ago.”
“No, if I had to guess I think about twelve hours ago. The blood's still warm, so he killed the dog only recently,” Junhong explains, crouching down next to the dead man. He holds out his palm, searching for something under the bed.
“There's one more thing I found,” the black-haired male stops what he's doing for a moment to look at Yongguk with a big smile, “Ready? Say hello to the little one.” Yongguk's a little confused with what he's talking about, but then Junhong pulls something out from under the bed.
“It's a puppy,” Yongguk mumbles out loud, “It's a fucking puppy!” |
3ff06950d7ec43e8a55324e3465799b4 | ['d82831a38a8a4289ade37db5b9b47ddb'] |
grapefruit moon
Daichi wakes up, and makes coffee, and falls in love.
No, wait. Not quite. More like: Daichi wakes up too late on a Saturday, rolls over, and groans because she's sore down to every single cell. Her forearms are bruised, her thighs burn to high heaven, and her back aches like she's eighty. On the floor beside her Suga lies splayed and snoring on a futon. Late morning light slants through the blinds and stripes her neck and hands and messy hair with gold, and Daichi has to look away because first thing in the morning is _too damn early_ to be in love with your best friend.
Daichi glances at the clock; it says nothing, because its power cord dangles free where Suga must have unplugged it late last night so Daichi would sleep in. Daichi should be irritated, maybe, but a surge of affection hits her instead. They'd had a match yesterday — won the first set, lost the second, won the third — at the cost of Daichi feeling like she's been put through a running washing machine. On full cycle. And then pushed over a waterfall in it. After a celebratory dinner with the team Suga had come over, because that's just what they did after matches. both of them were giggly and buzzed on victory, and they'd iced their joints and fallen off Rainbow Road a lot and then slept like rocks.
Daichi gets out of bed, swearing quietly as her body demonstrates new ways to feel pain, and pads to the kitchen. The microwave says it's a little past eleven; Daichi's been out for over thirteen hours. She puts a pot of coffee on. She doesn't drink the stuff herself, but five minutes later Suga drifts in, raised from the dead by the smell of caffeine. Daichi's heart clenches at little at the way she's yawning and messy and bleary with sleep. She plops into a chair.
"Pour me a mug?"
"Pour your own mug."
"I don't know where they are."
Daichi narrows her eyes. Suga knows Daichi's house at least as well as her own. "You unplugged my alarm."
"If I didn't you'd be up at six, because you're ridiculous." Suga's smile is soft and unguarded this early. "And I'm too sore to move another muscle. Pleeeease?" Daichi scowls over the soft warm _stupid_ feelings it gives her and gets up.
"Here, you addict." She plonks the mug labeled #1 GREAT-UNCLE in front of Suga along with a bottle of Tylenol.
"Ahhh," she sigh-smiles, breathing in the coffee steam, and Daichi can't move for how beautiful she is. "You're too good for me."
_Not even close,_ Daichi thinks, as her throat goes tight for a long second. Not even close.
-
They lose a practice match the week after. They fought hard, though, and Daichi swells with pride even under the disappointment.
Suga comes over that night and they eat ice cream out of a carton and watch bad action movies. She falls asleep half on Daichi's lap and Daichi ends up watching her instead of the screen: the flickering wash of the light on her cheekbones, her soft grey lashes, the way her mouth hangs fractionally open. She's known Suga two and a half years but it feels like twenty; she doesn't know exactly when those crinkled smiling eyes started making her gut seize up tight, when she started zoning out in class dreaming about running fingers through Suga's messy bun like some dopey shoujo protagonist. It's not a bad feeling, it's just — Daichi likes her feet on solid ground. She likes knowing who's what to her, and she has no idea what Suga is to her, except maybe "everything." Muted explosions bloom on the TV. Suga's eyelids twitch as she murmurs something and turns her head, pressing it against the soft meat of Daichi's gut.
Daichi leans down and kisses that little dark mole as gently as she knows how. She feels like she's falling.
-
She tries her best to be a good captain. It's getting difficult lately, though, because how is she meant to concentrate with Suga right — right there, slapping Daichi hard on the back and striding past her to front court. She misses more receives than she'd like to admit, distracted by the angles Suga's hipbones cut beneath the thin polyblend of the volleyball shorts. Suga cracks some joke when they're in the showers, and Daichi forgets to laugh because of the wet dripping rope of Suga's hair down her back, and the suds on her shoulders, and the way she tilts her head up to wash the sweat from her neck and chest, and—
And Daichi has to go, hurrying out of the shower stall with half her hair still soapy.
There really is no rest for the wicked, though, because Suga follows her out a moment later. She's recounting some ridiculous story about Nishinoya and an old man, but Daichi can only nod because Suga's got a towel around her waist and nothing else.
"That's nice," she says and hopes it comes out casual, which it probably doesn't because she's staring straight ahead at a locker instead of looking anywhere near Suga's direction and also her face is bright goddamn red.
"Daichi, are you okay?"
Daichi doesn't even have to look to be able to picture the exact worried expression on Suga's face right now. She intends to say _yeah, I'm totally good, can I borrow your history notes?_ and instead thinks _if I don't get to touch you outside of a team huddle soon I might literally die_ and all that comes out is "um. Uh."
"I see." Suga pulls on a shirt (a weird wave of relief and disapppointment washes over Daichi). "You wanna go talk it out over food?"
"Yeah," she nods, "sure."
"Cool. Your treat," says Suga, and grins.
- | 65eed751f57b4b899767d23d38326f98 | ['d82831a38a8a4289ade37db5b9b47ddb'] | "You've got whipped cream on your face," Akaashi cuts in, leaning across the table to wipe it off Tsukishima's chin. He brings his hand back to his lips and licks the cream off with slow, careful strokes of his tongue.
"You too," Tsukishima says, perfectly casual, and reaches over to do the same. He sucks the sweetness off two of his fingers, taking his time. When he pulls them out of his mouth slow and wet he meets Kuroo's eyes, which are glazed over.
"So... no pancakes?" says Bokuto in a very, very small voice.
"Sorry," Tsukishima smiles brightly. "Next time."
-
"Ruthless," Tsukishima says later that day, when he goes to get a glass of milk and sees Akaashi typing a paper on the couch. He's wearing a soft, stretched-out sweater that drapes low over his throat and collarbones, a pair of Bokuto's thigh-length volleyball kneepads, and little else.
Akaashi smiles mirthlessly. "Thank you. The whipped cream was a nice touch."
Bokuto walks out of the bathroom yelling about something. Tsukishima watches clinically as he slows to a stop, his pupils dilating and mouth opening and closing soundlessly as his train of thought derails.
"Good luck," Tsukishima says nonchalantly. "On that paper."
"Yeah," Akaashi says, his sweater slipping off one pale shoulder. "You too."
Bokuto looks crushed. Tsukishima pats the poor bastard on the shoulder as he goes past.
-
Tsukishima's only two minutes into his shower when the knock at the bathroom door comes, right on time.
"What is it," he calls, shutting the water off.
"Are you going to take long? I have class in twenty-five minutes and I really need to use the shower."
Tsukishima wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door. Akaashi stands there, looking perfectly composed. Over his shoulder Tsukishima can see their other two roommates on the couch, engaged in a vicious Mario Kart battle.
"I just got in." Clumps of suds slide down his chest, emphasizing his point.
"It's no big deal," shrugs Akaashi. "We can just shower together."
"Sure," Tsukishima says, and closes the door just as Kuroo and Bokuto turn around.
They don't actually shower together, of course. He washes the soap out of his hair and Akaashi gets in long enough to get soaked, but for the most part he washes his face, flosses, brushes, and kills time while Akaashi sits on the toilet seat and edits Wikipedia articles on his phone.
They get out after twelve full minutes of leaving the shower running, wearing only damp towels.
"Is there a problem?" Tsukishima pours himself a glass of water as Akaashi retreats to his room, humming slightly.
"You just showered together," Kuroo says hollowly. "You just– just. Showered. With each other."
_"When does the madness end," _moans Bokuto, muffled by the way he's pressed facefirst into the couch, their video game forgotten.__
__"Water conservation is important," Tsukishima says._ _
__Kuroo makes a sound of pure, distilled anguish. Satisfied, Tsukishima goes to cover himself up._ _
__-_ _
__"Wake up."_ _
__"Mmeplh?" Kuroo's muffled under the pillows he presses against his head._ _
__"I said wake up. We're going jogging." Tsukishima stands up, pulling on his shirt. The red LED display of his bedside clock reads 5:55._ _
__Kuroo makes no move to get out of bed, so he yanks the comforter off, ignoring the squawks of protest. "You're the one always on my ass about improving stamina. Up."_ _
__"Those are new," Kuroo says on their way out the door, squinting groggily._ _
__"My old shorts shrunk in the wash," Tsukishima says, counting on Kuroo's total ignorance of how laundry works. "These were on sale."_ _
__They were, too, but that wasn't why he'd bought them. The black and white athletic shorts are three sizes too small and about as short as they can possibly be without becoming publicly indecent, riding up his pale hips._ _
__"I like them," Kuroo yawns._ _
__Tsukishima smiles to himself._ _
__"I," Kuroo pants, twenty minutes later when they stop to rest, "hate. Those shorts."_ _
__"Yeah, I'm not sure I like them either," he agrees and takes a drink of water. "Too drafty. I might get rid of them."_ _
__"Don't you _dare,_ " Kuroo gasps, with feeling. "I hate you." _ _
__"Why? Have I been going too fast?" Tsukishima feels kind of bad for the guy. He'd made sure to jog slightly in front of Kuroo the whole way, affording him the best possible view. It'd not like Tsukishima even has much of an ass to speak of, but A) he knows Kuroo's tastes and B) the shorts pretty much could not be skimpier without basically being a thong._ _
__Kuroo glares up through his bangs, hands on his knees as he tries to get his breath back. "This is all part of your.... of your thing. Torture campaign. Making me suffer."_ _
__Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. "What, waking up early to run? It's really not that bad, you're just lazy."_ _
__"Just tell me what you _want,"_ he moans. _ _
__Tsukishima stretches his shoulders above his head. Completely coincidentally, this makes his shirt ride up and expose the flat planes of his stomach and the taut ridges of his hipbones. The shorts don't cover much. "I'm just trying to keep us both in shape."_ _
__"You're such a dick."_ _
__"Keep up, _darling,"_ Tsukishima says, hiking up the shorts even farther, and shifts back into a jog. _ _
__-_ _
__The front door unlocks. Kuroo's chortling at some dumb joke Bokuto's made as they close it, but as soon as they enter the room their conversation trails off._ _
__Good, Tsukishima thinks, pretending to be absorbed by the shitty _Chopped_ rerun they're watching. _ _
__There's a long moment where the only sounds are the fan and the TV. He and Akaashi continue to lick their popsicles, unperturbed._ _ |
b772d084485e422695d6a45770ad08d8 | ['d83d790425a9467dbec965748617528b'] | “The Scourge of the South was known being a powerful force but was a regular man at one point. He had a home, a family, friends and a clan of his own. Love had surrounded him till a terrible raid had took all what was once his. All that he had, all he had known was gone in an instant. What terror had been wrought upon his life he had vowed to find it and seek his vengeance. But… all that he did only brought him sadness.”
“Why was he sad?” The littlest squeaked out.
“Everywhere he went reminded him of home. Yet every crime he had committed had blinded him of his humanity, robbing any chance of redemption. It wasn’t until the king had passed away he was set free to spread havoc again. He had set his sights on the woods beyond the walls of Vesuvia to seek his next victims.”
In that moment, the wind picked up and there was a loud bang at the window. In an instant our son had leapt into Muriel’s arms hiding his face within his shirt.
“Oh no…” I dropped the clothes and rush over. Muriel already stroking his back in comfort as a way of saying _‘I’m so sorry.’_ There was some sniffling and I pulled out a handkerchief to wipe any tears.
“Shhh…shhh.. Calm, calm… it’s okay.” Muriel coos at him. Through some tears our son asks.
“He’s not here, is he?”
“No, no he is not here. He will never get you.” Our son’s eyes light up through some tears.
“Really?”
“I have meet the Scourge.”
“Wha…?” Muriel smiled at his son’s confusion. “No you didn’t!” Muriel barked out a laugh.
“I have, son. I had met him in the woods thinking he and I were the same. You see, all his life he had lead a life of solitude thinking that all the terrible things in life was a result of him being a terrible being. I had thought the same of myself till one day…” He paused.
“Till what?” Muriel looked down at him with a playful smirk. “Till what Poppy?”
“You might not like this part.”
“Tell meee!” He tugged at Muriel’s shirt.
“I fell in love.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and turn back to my work knowing what he’ll say next.
“I had lived on the streets of Vesuvia not knowing or caring about the civilians that resided there. I had only but one friend I could trust that had given me a task to watch over someone while they were away. It was my duty to protect them knowing I will not be remembered. But as I watched them from afar, they kept coming closer and closer to me till they knew my name, my face… everything about me.” I saw him close his eyes and sigh. I felt some red on my face but it could be just the fire dimming down.
“The Scourge and I were very similar except he was scorned from losing everything that he forgot how to love in return. He had been following me, watching me… He had tried to pry his power over me for years. Instead of killing me the weight of his sins pulled me down, putting chains around me. He was always watching, always waiting for me to carry out his deeds. Then one night as I was sure I would be under his hold for good till the one I protected for all these years helped me take those shackles off with a kiss. That's when the Scourge appeared to me. He had asked me how did I break free from him.”
“What did you say Poppy?”
“I answered... I had once believed that my solitude was reason enough to hurt others. But my life is tied with those around me. They have shown me kindness and I would gladly give everything if it means they will be happy. They will know that my love for them is eternal as the carving on the stone. I had vowed to not hurt others in fear or anger but to protect the ones I love. He had bowed his head towards me and walked away into the mist. I swear to you that the Scourge was a being twisted to be something beyond human and yet when I saw him leave, he was just another man. He was never heard of every again. Now you know the story of the Scourge of the South.”
Feeling satisfied and sufficiently tired, Muriel had tucked in our son in his bed once more. I had finished folding the last piece of laundry and slowly padded my way over to the other side of the room. I stroked my son’s hair and pushed his black bangs away to plant a little goodnight kiss. Muriel had done the same till our son’s eyes closed and he was gently snoring away.
We let ourselves out of the room and pulled the curtains shut. The evening may be done for him but Muriel and I know that there were dishes that had to be cleaned before we retired for the night. Luckily, we had some water from earlier in the day so no late night runs to the river. We had got to work with me scrubbing dishes and Muriel drying them off.
“That was a nice story you told him back there.” Muriel snorted at that.
“I didn’t think he was old enough to know scary stuff.”
“He’s growing up. I can’t believe eight years have already flown by.” Muriel grunted in agreement. Still I was curious.
“Why did you tell him _that _story, Muriel?”
“Because it was scary, like he asked.”
“You know what I mean.” He slowed his drying for a bit.
“Someone might mention it him one day. I don’t want him…” He went silent. | 5d3d8295e0fa414e859e17341cc87f55 | ['d83d790425a9467dbec965748617528b'] | “According to the message on your phone he called you around the Osaka Bay right here!” A little arrow on screen pointed to small intersection where Mondo was supposedly at.
“That’s kinda far from here.” Chihiro said to themself.
“Master, I found the location of his phone to be in Kobe. But it’s barely has battery life so it is not advised to call him at this time. Even tracking him through GPS is draining his battery right now.”
“Couldn’t we just text him? That takes up less battery than calling.” Chihiro suggested.
“Oh right we could! _Tch_ , no wait, we can’t! This wouldn’t happen if only he was more diligent with his phone.” Kiyotaka took back his words.
“What? Why can’t we?”
“Sources are telling me that Mr. Oowada was not able afford many texts this month. Texting would not be advised or it will ultimately cancel his phone services.” Alter Ego explained.
“Darn it I should’ve remembered sooner!” Kiyotaka bit his tongue and frowned.
“Please do not beat yourself up Mr. Ishimaru. It’s only human to forget.”
“It doesn’t really help our situation though...”
All of them sat there trying to figure out some course of action. Chihiro looked up to see Kiyotaka with a concerned look upon his face. His eyes darted back and forth as he thought about the possibilities. Chihiro wondered if they should be thinking about the worst. For all they know Mondo could have his train pass or money to catch a bus and is on his way back right now. But his voice sounded out of sorts and there was so many sounds in the background that it’s hard to figure out if he was just upset or even sad.
“Master if you don’t mind me interrupting, I’ve also cleared up Mr. Oowada’s voice in his message so that you could hear better.”
“Oh? Please show us.” Alter Ego nodded and brought up a window with sound waves from the voice mail.
“I had a feeling you weren’t able to fully understand Mr. Oowada’s message took away the background noises and focused on his voice only. If you listen carefully, you can tell he has a high level of panic and anxiety.” Chihiro and Kiyotaka listened to the message once more without the distractions. Everything sounded somewhat normal maybe a little frantic for his Kawasaki breaking down. Then came him yelling profanities and their hearts skipped a beat or two as the voice they were hearing turned into complete fear. It sounded like he was about to cry.
“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news but according the distress in this voice mail, Mr. Oowada is having a panic attack.” Chihiro felt the blood drain from their face while Kiyotaka’s eyes widen in fear of the worst.
“Alter Ego, do you think there is a possibility that Mondo is still at the same place he called me at?”
“There is an 86% possibility he is still there.”
“In that case, what are we waiting for?” Kiyotaka was ready to leave the room till he was stopped by a small “Wait a minute!”
“What’s wrong? Does your computer have a virus?!”
“Likewise to you! Jokes aside, before you go anywhere, I have some important information to give you. I was specifically told to not tell anyone about this but I feel that you and Mr. Ishimaru need to know.”
“If it can help then please tell us!”
“Alright, as you know Mr. Oowada uses my programs for homework and such. But on occasions he tells me about a person he was really close to, a man in fact. He would go in great detail of what he was like and showed me some pictures of him. Now whenever he talks to me about him, I automatically turn on my simulator.” At that moment Alter Ego’s image was switched out for a much older man sporting a slick black pompadour and a white outfit that bears a striking resemblance to Mondo. Both roommates looked at each other with puzzled looks as they wondered who is he and how is he related to Mondo.
Father? Too young. A gang member? Impossible. Cousin? That’s a possibility.
“After some time he finally revealed to me that this is late brother, Daiya. How he passed was mystery to me. Without his knowledge I did some searching but found very little information since gang activity is not archived often on the internet. Until I found a blog that vaguely mentioned Mr. Oowada’s gang on a particular night a couple of years ago. As it turns out Daiya was killed by riding into oncoming truck. Why he did that is complete mystery. If I’m correct, Mr. Oowada went to visit the spot his brother was killed to pay his respects. Today is the anniversary of Daiya’s death”
“My god I had no idea...” Kiyotaka let out a shaky breath. Before any of them could have a minute to let the ‘Mondo had a dead brother he couldn’t give a damn telling his friends about’ situation sink in, another piece of information had yet to be given.
“Master, Mr. Ishimaru, you must go to Mr. Oowada immediately. He’s in a very bad place right now. In fact, he’s in the exact street that his brother was killed at. Many delivery trucks go through that area and with the original voice mail you gave me, that is triggering a response that could put him a bad situation that could also hurt others.”
“Kiyotaka, we need to find Mondo immediately.”
“Agreed.” Both snapped out of their positions and raced to get their jackets and train passes ready with only one objective in mind, find Mondo before nightfall and get him home as soon as possible.
* * * |
ad8403fe0f1d46f88ebc2eccc163d4e0 | ['d86fee17c1584ffe83a50dc402de2ec4'] | Violet was almost ready. She managed to gather all the things useful to her escape. It was late night, and the snores of all the troupe drunk and asleep could be heard in the house. Fortunately, the eldest of the Baudelaires didn’t hear anyone climb up the stairs. The most difficult part would be to sneak where she would be able to escape without anytone noticing : Olaf’s secret tower.
Violet took off her shoes and opened the door of her room. Apart from the snores, it was rather quiet. Anxious, the young woman took the corridor, and the wooden stairs. Each step was creaking and she felt as if the sound was resonating in the whole house. Finally Violet opened the trapdoor and got in the tower.
It was the same as when Sunny was locked in there. The cage was still hanging ans swinging with the night wind. Violet tied her hair in her ribbon and looked at two hooks fixed on the wall where there were Olaf’s costumes were hanged, like Shirley’s, and others she never saw before. She threw all of them on the floor and measured the distance between the window and the roof of the neighbors.
_ I hope I have enough wires, she said to herself. Klaus, if you were here, you’d have told me if my idea of a zip-line was good.
She had to hurry. She equipped the harpoon gun with the makeshift grappling hook made with rusty cables and an old umbrella, aimed and shot. The grappling hook flew in the air with enough power to land on the other side, but Violet had to start again and again until it was properly fixed on the other side.
Once she was sure it would hold, Violet hanged the harpoon gun on the heavy hooks.
_ It’s raining outside, she said to herself. I need something to protect Quigley’s map.
She searched in the boxes and finally found a woman camel coat that didn’t stink she quickly put on, sliding the map in one of the pockets.
_ Ok… Now I need to get rid of the cage, Violet murmured, carefully sitting on the edge of the window.
She reached for the cage she quickly removed. But with that heavy rain, Violet didn’t hear the trapdoor opening. Too busy holding the cage, she jumped of surprise and screamed when two arms came around her.
_ No ! she shouted, the rain pouring over her face.
She could feel her husband’s little goatee, but couldn’t bring herself to face him. Scared, she had let go of the cage who crashed down.
The eldest of the Baudelaires was still young, and yet she already lived a serie of unfortunate events. Unfortunate events that made her feel guilty, and which was difficult to bear for a young woman like her. She felt so much remorse for hurting people even if it wasn’t on purpose.
But she never realized that, when you’ve reach an age like Count Oalf’s, you’d have even more remorse. And sometimes, drowning your guilt in alcohol was just bringing it back on the surface.
_ Kit…, he murmured.
Violet froze. It was a tender voice that she never heard before. Olaf was reeking of alcohol, but he was only tightening his grip on her, not to harm her, but as if he was scared.
_ Wha…What is…, she tried to mutter.
_ Don’t go away, Kit, Olaf whispered against her neck. Please.
Violet realized that, drunk and half-asleep, Olaf thought she was Kit Snicket, a sweet and formidable woman he deeply loved, unfortunately not suited for a criminal like him. A woman whose coat was on her shoulders right now.
_ I…have to go, Violet stuttered.
But everything she would say was useless : Olaf’s arms were hugging her too tightly.
_ I’ll do anything…tell me what I have to do so you’ll stay with me…
Violet felt tears in her eyes. Kit Snicket was dead, and it was heartbreaking to see he was still loving her, so much he was ready to beg so her ghost could stay. That man behind her was terrifying her, but he had nothing to do with her horrible husband.
_ I…
_ I love you, Olaf interrupted.
And he forced her to turn her face to capture her lips with his.
When she was sill a young child, Violet had once forgot the electric abacus she invented in the library. When she steeped in without knocking – of course – she saw her parents on the couch, kissing. The Baudelaires parents had always been very careful not to show any inappropriate affections in front of their children. They only did light and quick kisses, which would make Klaus scream of disgust.
But that day, when she opened the door, Violet saw them kissing like she never thought people could kiss. Their lips were hungry for each other, their hands wandering in places she thought were private, their clothes were unbuttonned, their hair messy… and those weird sounds they were making. Violet stayed petrified for a few minutes that almost felt hours, but couldn’t avert her eyes or go away. Instead, she just watched, surprised, and then ashamed. Then the door creaked open with the wind and her parents stopped abruptly when they realized she had been standing there. Violet felt disgusted and swore never to kiss anyone. Ever.
And then, she met Quigley. In the slippery slope of Mainmorts Mounts, he kissed her. It was like sweet butterflies in her stomach and she felt as if she was flying. | 5422a51a365c41bcb296444b923f8a2a | ['d86fee17c1584ffe83a50dc402de2ec4'] | As Mr Poe was straightening up, she abruptly pulled the wire.
The Baudelaires had faw luck in their short lives. They weren’t lucky to have lost their parents in a terrible fire. They weren’t lucky to have met Count Olaf. They weren’t lucky enough to have saved Jacques Snicket, Aunt Josephine or Madame Lulu. They weren’t lucky enough to have the opportunity to prevent the Marvelous Marriage to happen.
But, for once, luck was on the Baudelaires’ side.
Luck was on Violet’s side while she was trying to stop an important contrat to be signed. Luck was on Klaus’ side as he managed to scare off the white-faced women by his knowledge about Tineola bisselliella, a scientific name for mites ; he made them believe their clothes were infested, and the two sisters started to scratch feverishly before becoming paranoid and rush to the nearest shop to buy new clothes.
Luck was on Sunny’s side, who subtly springled ultra-spicy chili powder on the hook-handed man’s hamburger and made him run to the nearest fountain.
Luck was on these two men at the corner of the street, who could intercept right on time a very fundamental dining-set before going to a vigourously fixed destination.
Yes, luck, indeed.
And when Violet’s pulled the wired, the halogen lamp flickered before falling on Mr Poe’s cup, spilling the boiling coffee with two spoons of cream, no sugar but a cloud of milk everywhere on the Baudelaires file.
_ Ah !!! Mr Poe screamed.
Olaf straightened up and his bright eyes stared at the lamp, then at Violet. He noticed her leg and smack her knee with anger. Violet jumped out of surprise as Olaf’s dirty nails were scratching the bare skin of her thigh. She knew he could feel her having goosebumps, but he was too busy growling in frustration as Mr Poe was vainly trying to clean the papers.
_ Ah… This is not right at all, the banker sighed.
_ It doesn’t matter, Olaf said roughly, I can still sign them.
_ Oh no no nothe bank will never accept them, Mr Poe retorted.
_ Then go find some other papers !
_ Well there’s a very standardized procedure, you see, and everything is very different now that the Baudelaires’ parents are dead. It will take days, some weeks at least.
Olaf’s face was distorted by rage. Violet was carefully avoiding his gaze.
_ Very well, he ranted.
And he stood up.
_ Get the papers, then. And fast. Because of your appointment, we had to leave our ceremony in a hurry, he claimed with a cold voice.
Mr Poe blinked, confused. Wasn’t it Olaf who showed up here without an appointment ? The count took all the peppermint candies, grabbed Violet’s arm and dragged her out of the office.
.
.
_ What the hell happened here ?
This was actually a relevant question, as Olaf saw the crimson face of the hook-handed man trying to hold a bottle of water and the two white-faced women wearing new clothes for no reason.
_ Sorry boss, the hook-handed man said. But the little brat’s hamburger was too spicy.
_ And we didn’t want to be eaten by mites, the two white-faced women added.
Olaf rolled his eyes as Violet stared at the empty car.
_ Where are Klaus and Sunny ? she claimed ?
_ Well, if the other bookworms decided to run away by themselves, that’s one less thing for me to do. Let’s go !
And Violet found herself, once again, on the backseat of the car, stuck between the window and one of the white-faced women. She wished her siblings were there, as they were heading back to Olaf’s house.
But after all, her brother only did what she told him to.
« Run away, Klaus… »
« Violet… »
« Go ! »
.
.
_ Surprise !
The high-pitched tone of Esme Squalor resonated in the hall. The financial advisor was opening a bottle of rhum, throwing the cork in the air like it was a champagne bottle.
_ The pirate style is _in_ right now, she said, so I went to buy all these bottle. Champagne is so _out_.
Olaf rolled his eyes, as a shower of white confetti was thrown at them.
Esme’s smile finally vanished.
_ Where’s the fortune ? she asked.
Violet felt Olaf tightening his grasp. He pushed her forward.
_ As usual, those damn orphans ruined everything.
_ They’re just jealous because I have everything and they don’t have anything ! Cake-sniffers !
Violet knew all about Carmelita Spats now that she was following Olaf and Esmé around. The little girl, who was currently wearing a pirate-cow-boy-astronaut costume, was known for being a very annoying girl, a phrase which here means jumping aroung screaming « cake sniffer ! cake sniffer ! » while playing with a plastic sword.
_ Isn’t she adorable ? Esmé murmured. Anyway… I think I can put the rhum away…
_ No ! Serve the rhum ! Olaf retorted. I need to forget about this awful day.
The troupe cheered at the idea of drinking and hurried in the living room. Violet felt Olaf dragging her upstairs.
_ You know, I’m seriously thinking about cutting your legs so you would stop standing in my way, he spats, pulling her despite her resistance, but I have other things to worry about thanks to you.
He kicked the door open and threw Violet in the little room she shared with Klaus and Sunny
_ We could have been so happy, but since you ruined our honeymoon, I have no choice but to postpone it and fix your mess.
He switched off the light.
_ Time to sleep. You have a long list of chores tomorrow.
Violet walked fiercely towards him and grabbed his arm.
_ Klaus and Sunny didn’t abandon me ! she shouted. And I’s rather be dying on the street and being here. |
6281cc0542e04d19ad1dd42dd39ee556 | ['d871065c614d40d4bcf84d6c8803f607'] | “I wouldn’t say lucky. I have to work here, with your ugly mug every morning.” Jared says back, but it’s without venom, and he’s smiling almost fondly in Jensen’s direction as he delivers the insult. “And it’s not like we’re surprised, I mean, we all know I’ve got the world in the palm of my hand.”
Maybe not the world. But he’s got Jensen, at the very least.
Gen rolls her eyes, reaching under the counter and pulling out a cerulean apron that she tosses at Jared’s direction, hitting his face with a thwap.
“Suit up, barista boy, and turn down that music. You just assigned yourself to Operation Hell, with me as your drill sergeant. Time to start your teachings.” Gen grins.
And so, Jared goes from homeless stranger to Jensen’s barista boy in two seconds flat. All in all, it’s no change from the schedule they’d already arranged, except Jared is more than ever before bent on making Jensen’s drinks, and Jensen spends whole days, entire eight hour shifts, in the warm sunlit area of the Grain, week after week after week. Jared’s often busy, but he makes a point to come by every half hour or so to clean tables and strike up a conversation with Jensen that never quite seems to end.
These exchanges, though superficial, and often full of insults and light hearted banter, mean more to Jensen then he is able to articulate, but he feels it change him, this easy companionship--friendship--with Jared. The usual stress of casual conversation vanishes whenever Jared is around, and Jensen feels almost loose, almost relaxed.
Jensen also finishes his first draft of his latest novel in the weeks that slip by, and despite how distracted he’s been, it’s the most effortless draft he’s ever committed to writing, practically rolls off the tongue as he writes it. Nevertheless, the completion of the draft is an exhausting event within itself, and with it comes an immense relief, and when he slips into the Grain, Jared’s waiting at the counter, wrapped in his blue apron like the perfect congratulatory present.
“Black coffee.” Jensen says.
“He’ll have the chai tea latte.” Jared tells Gen, and then slaps an envelope down on counter, “Look at this. Ain’t she beautiful? First official paycheck. I nearly cried when Gen gave it to me.” He strokes the paycheck reverently, like he’s just received the Holy Grail, before tucking it back into his pocket, eyes crinkling, “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
Jensen wasn’t even aware he had started smiling; a common side effect of being around Jared.
“I just finished my most recent assignment. Feels good,” Jensen shrugs.
“Congrats! You deserve a break, at least for a while.” Jensen perks up. “Oh my god, that means you’re coming to open mic night, right?”
Open Mic Night is a event first concocted back when Jensen first started attending the Grain; a bi-monthly event where the entire town of Carver packs themselves into the Grain like sardines and sing songs, perform karaoke, and further demonstrations of various talents. Fun, Jensen’s sure, but a social environment that still manages to make his stomach tighten imperceptibly at the thought of it. There’s no evident reason for going, and no one expects him to as is.
“Can’t. I’ve got a thing.” Jensen lies, anxiety rearing its head in his gut and sniffing the air hopefully.
“A thing?” Jared asks doubtfully.
“A very important thing.” It’s pathetically obvious that Jensen is lying, but when Jared opens his mouth to inquire further Gen interjects, “Don’t even bother. You’ll never get him to come. Jensen Ackles and Open-Mic Night are two words that just don’t go together in the same sentence.”
“Why not?” Jared squawks, stealing the Chai Tea latte from Gen’s hands to start the foam art; an artfully drawn penis.
“I don’t care much for crowds.” Jensen explains, hoping Jared will pick up on the subtext and leave well enough alone. He takes the latte from Jared and raises an eyebrow at the foam art, which Jared appears to not notice.
“It’s barely even a crowd. And they’re not strangers, they’re the community. Your community,” Jared argues, then leans on the counter, hands clasped as he begs, “Please come? Pleeaaaaaase? I’ll never ask you for anything again. I’ll make your coffee just the way you like it for the rest of forever. Hell, I’ll drink black coffee too if it makes you happy!”
Jensen takes a sip of his penis-latte art with an unimpressed expression, ignoring the small timid part of him that kind of wants to go. He’d have fun, and the idea of spending time with Jared at a time that isn’t the earlier hours of the morning is intriguing, and Jensen’s want peaks a little higher. “I’ll think about it.”
“He’s not gonna shut up unless you promise you’ll come.” Gen inputs. “Open mic night starts at eight. For god’s sake bring enough ear plugs to share. Christ knows what we’ll do if this idiot starts singing.”
And as if he’d been cued, Jared breaks out into a song montage of all eighties songs; the Cars to Cheap Trick and Van Halen, so out of tune that Jensen can’t help but crack a smile that bursts into laughter.
“Alright, I’ll go!” He wheezes, and Jared breaks in a fit of joy that goes off like an atomic bomb, cheers and smiles that incinerate any worries Jensen had been having in the first place.
“Oh my god. I cannot wait.” Jared prattles, “You’re gonna finally meet Chad--Chad’s my best friend--we’re gonna eat, drink and be merry. Dress sharply, Ackles, and be ready to partay!” | 75a9ae3dfa384a10822ea1df332aed4d | ['d871065c614d40d4bcf84d6c8803f607'] | Jensen’s furrowed gaze is fixed on ring he wears on his right hand. The ring is a simple silver signet that Jared used to think as a display of status and wealth, but the more time he spends with Jensen, the more he realizes the significant weight of it on his finger. He fiddles with it when he’s stressed, and stares at it in moments of deep thought and Jared’s seen enough photos of Alan Ackles by this point to know who the ring originally belonged to, the true significance on Jensen’s hand that goes beyond accessory.
“Is he the type that would do that?”
Jensen looks up from the ring, locks eyes with Jared. “He absolutely is.”
A slight chill settles over the air in the room.
“I am not my father,” Jensen continues, “And Pellegrino doesn’t like me for that simple fact. Almost everyone in this town is just waiting for me to fuck up so they can take his legacy for their own, his empire. So, I had to use my father’s friendship with Pellegrino to wager a quick truce, appeal to his better nature for momentary peace. But it’s not going to last.”
Jared’s throat feels dry. “What do they want exactly, in exchange for not going to war?”
Jensen doesn’t answer, but his eyes return to staring at the ring on his finger, no longer able to look up at Jared.
The realization takes Jared’s insides like a mouse trap, a sting of panic skittering about that he can’t escape. He’d known the risk of it, right from the second he pulled the trigger. It had been stupid to think bygones would be bygones, and that dead bodies would go unnoticed.
“Am I going to--”
“They will not _touch_ you,” Jensen says severely, and even Jared cringes. He looks like he did when he pulled the gun on Stuart, the single minded focus of rage, controlled and unstoppable. “I’m handling the situation. I have been. You’d have been dead by now if I weren’t. But I’m clueing you in now, because you need to be aware of what’s at risk.”
Jared waits, silently, for him to continue. His lungs feel too big for his chest.
Jensen sighs at his un-encouraging response, rubs a hand over his face. “It’s like trying to assemble an atomic bomb, this whole scenario. When you kill a gang member, everything gets tense. Sometimes it’s warranted. But this time we killed two. And Pellegrino doesn’t think that it’s warranted at all. What I did, taking both of them out, it’s a ripple effect. Pellegrino’s men want blood for blood, or some bargain of equal weight.”
“And you’re hoping you can come an agreement rather than a blood pact, so I don’t get a bullet in my brain.”
Jensen opens his mouth, but settles with a nod, as if Jared’s taken the words right out of it.
It hadn’t occurred to Jared, not really, the limb Jensen is going out on for him. His eyes widen. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me any of this?”
“You didn’t need to know,” Jensen says quietly. “The less you knew, the safer you were. Chris had eyes on you and I could take care of the rest.”
Jared sits back in his chair. “I still don’t understand why you’re going to all this trouble. You didn’t even _like_ me before I was getting your entire operation into jeopardy. Why not turn me over?”
“I may be a hard-ass, but I’m not a fucking _monster,_ Jared.” Jensen folds his hands in front of him, and Jared watches as he presses down on his metal ring with a thumb.
“That doesn’t answer my question. You’re risking a lot for one goddamn accountant. Especially when you didn’t trust me all of a month ago.”
Jensen’s mouth snaps closed, and he huffs, frustrated, glaring peevishly at Jared before he says, “You’re a part of this family. Protection is a given, and non-negotiable.”
“You sound over the moon about that fact.”
“Maybe I would be if you weren’t so goddamn _irritating_.”
The genuine note of exasperation in Jensen’s voice loosens the band around Jared’s chest, but not by much. “It’s a talent of mine.”
Jensen breathes out, a short exhale through his nose. “I’m not turning you over. I may be many terrible things, but a turncoat to my family isn’t one of them. And despite the ongoing list of cons, that family includes you.”
The statement has just enough bite that Jared can rally from the underlying sweetness that comes with it, bringing along an unfamiliar feeling that sits uncomfortably in his chest.
“Maybe it does, but still, you should have said something to me.”
“Well, I’m saying something now,” Jensen grouses.
Jared bites the inside of his lip, and stays quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
Jensen actually sighs this time, and leans back in his chair. He looks tired. “That’s not how this works. I don’t have the patience for burdens.”
“Fine.” Jared, too, is exhausted with this back and forth. “So why are you telling me this now, apart from wanting me to ‘be prepared’?"
“Because,” and now Jensen’s lips quirk, a glint in his eye that’s almost playful, “I’ve got a plan.”
5. Chapter 5
They call it a ‘peace negotiation’, and from what Jared gathers in his crash course lesson, it’s some bastardized mix of a public soiree as the guise, and a peace treaty beneath the surface. He doesn’t really get how, but somehow, Jensen inviting a bunch of gang members to a special Casino Night--and now the reason for Gen’s speakeasy theme party is much clearer--is a show of respect, of friendship.
The formality of it is a little too Godfather for Jared’s taste, he doesn’t get why Jensen needs to jump through all these hoops to appease people that don’t seem to want to be appeased. |
9828e5820cd34d8e815a942bc2ce2960 | ['d8809fb575cd46d4892daa9ceec1bdb8'] | Will was certain that she was hiding something from them.
“Pardon me, _signore_. But, what have I got to do with this letter?” She looked at Jack with a slight frown.
Jack shook his head before answering.
“That letter was supposed to be mailed to this address. And unless someone who is named Angelo lives here, I assume that this letter is not addressed to you. Does anyone named Angelo live here, Miss Bevisangue?”
Esperanza shook her head.
“None that I am aware of, no. And neither anyone from my family and ancestors are named Angelo. In fact, I’m not even sure if anyone in this subdivision is named such. At least none among those that I know of.” She frowned.
Jack nodded slowly.
“This is why your life is in imminent danger.”
Esperanza still looked confused, although now, Will can detect a hint of frustration.
“I still do not understand, Agents William and Crawford. How in the world could my life be in danger!? You have not explained anything aside from handing over this letter to me. Which proved to not offer any explanation as well.” The tone of her voice reached a higher octave and her eyes flashed with slight anger.
Jack lifted both his hands in a placating gesture.
“Do you know a man named, Dr. Hannibal Lecter? Perhaps you have heard of him from the news?”
Esperanza frowned before looking thoughtful.
“I have heard of Dr. Lecter, although not from the news, I do not really watch the news that much; I prefer reading the papers. However, Dr. Lecter was quite well-loved among the arts and music patrons of Italy. He is a Psychiatrist, no? He would often attend the gatherings of the higher echelons here in Italy.”
Jack nodded slowly in agreement.
“You are correct. Dr. Hannibal Lecter is all that. . . and more.”
Esperanza frowned.
“And. . . _more_? _Per favore_ , explain.”
Will decided to speak up this time.
“Dr. Hannibal Lecter is currently being tracked down for the murders of more than fifteen people. Some going way back as far as twenty years ago. Before we could apprehend him while he was still staying in Baltimore, Maryland, he succeeded in evading capture and running away. News about him went cold after his escape and this is the first time that the FBI had caught wind of any news about him for the last three years or so.”
Esperanza’s eyes widened in shock.
“Are you saying he is here in Italy? Right now? And that I may be his target?” She sounded frightened and slightly panicky.
Will tried to calm her down without withholding the truth from her.
“We cannot be sure if he is targeting you specifically. However, the letter was sent to your house address and we can assume that he knows you live here.”
“But nobody named Angelo lives here!? Could it not be possible that the letter company simply made a wrong send!?” Her voice sounded more high-pitched and frightened.
At least, Will surmises that she sounded frightened, but he cannot be sure, she may be withholding information from them too. Will had learned from the Academy that simply because people come-off to you as innocent, it does not exactly mean that they are. Some are better at acting than anybody could ever tell.
‘ _Yes, and Hannibal has to be the best actor of them all. For all your training in the FBI. For all your EMPATHY, he still wriggled his way into your life and kept himself away from the limelight of justice. And the worst part? You TRUSTED him! You never even suspected him!’_ His conscience mocked.
“We have indeed considered that and we shall check with the letter company just to be sure. From what I know of Dr. Lecter, however, he is not one to commit mistakes. He is calculated in his decisions and he does not act without thinking about things such as these for an extensive period of time.”
Esperanza regarded Will with an enigmatic look in her eye and though her lips remained serious, Will could swear that he saw her lip twitch upwards for a slight smile, but it was gone before he could assure himself.
“ _Everyone_ makes mistakes, Agent William. This Dr. Lecter of yours – no matter how intelligent or calculated he may be – he is still as human as you and I. And I would not put it past anyone – not even him – that he would make a mistake.”
Jack regarded her words with a frown whilst Will gave her a piercing stare. Esperanza returned Will’s stare with her own piercing green eyes. Jack cleared his throat to get their attention.
“For now, madam, we would recommend that you keep an eye out for yourself and be vigilant about your surroundings. Keep necessary security measures for your home and if you would like, we can offer one of our police officers to guard you for precautionary measures.”
Esperanza looked thoughtful for a few seconds, regarding Will and Jack with an unreadable expression on her face.
“Would it be alright if you check with the letter company first? And once you are sure that the letter is not a wrong send, I give you permission to station an officer outside my home at night. And _only_ at night. I do not appreciate having to see an officer outside my home every day and giving me paranoia that would undoubtedly make me feel like I have to look over my shoulder every single moment of the day.”
Jack opened his mouth to disagree with her but she cut him off before he had the chance to say anything. | bffaab324b3a46c18efc944995ae68b0 | ['d8809fb575cd46d4892daa9ceec1bdb8'] | So he decided to do what he thought is right. He slowly moved his hand atop Beverly’s and squeezed it lightly while allowing his thumbs to rotate soothingly above her hand. Beverly took this as a sign that Will understood and she wiped away her tear with her free hand. Their eyes met and Beverly flashed Will her most winning smile.
Will smiled back, more real now than he did a while ago.
“There she is.” He murmured.
“The Beverly I came to know.”
And Beverly laughed out loud as she sniffled and ate breakfast with him.
Will sat in the front seat of the car that they have rented in Italy. He watched as the first vestiges of snow carefully fall from the sky and onto the ground, creating an almost magical view from his side of the window. Originally, the police offered their services to them and gave them permission to borrow one of their police cars. However, Will pointed out that it would be too obvious that they were doing an investigation, and they cannot alarm or tip-off anyone that might alarm Hannibal or the mysterious person that the letter was sent too and thus he suggested to use a non-descript car to hide their identity from everyone else. This gave them the decision to rent a car for them to use for the duration of their stay in Florence. They rented two cars, both a black Fiat Panda, one for him and Jack and another for the Lab Team. They decided that being split into two cars covers more area and gives them better chances of backing-up the other in case of an emergency of some sort.
Will shook away his sleep as he had given in to his body’s demands for rest while Jack drove them to the outskirts of Tuscany into an obviously luxuriant subdivision. He allowed his eyes to roam around the massive houses – some large and spacious enough to even be called mansions – and noticed that the place was obviously well-off and peaceful.
_‘A slice of paradise in an otherwise busy and noisy place.’_ He thought with a slight smirk.
_‘No doubt, only the elite of the society live here. Well, what more could you expect from Hannibal? His contacts would most likely be the people who are part of the higher stratums of society. Why am I not surprised?’_
The car came to a soft halt in front of a grandiose and a slightly traditional Italian house made of large dark reddish-brown bricks accentuated with large square windows, an old wooden double-paneled door and a spacious lawn and backyard. However, the house also seemed to have an underlying Scottish tone with its chimneys and curved window panels. Overall, the house seemed quaint if not a bit ancient, and it breathes a sort of history to anyone who glances at it.
Jack turned off the car engine and looked at Will. Will stared back with a blank expression but dark cutting eyes. He looked away and stared back into the house that they have parked outside of. He heard Jack give an intake of breath before exhaling slowly.
“Let’s go, Will.”
Will nodded and they both opened the doors of the car and stepped out into the granite road crunching underneath their feet and the Lab Team following them from behind. Jack turned to look at the trio and shook his head before motioning to them to return to the car.
“We don’t want to startle anyone. Stay in the car and I’ll call you if we need you to be inside.” Jack commanded.
Jack nodded for Will to continue walking and Will slowly went up the front porch of the house and approached the door, his vision then slowly focused on the door knocker on the top middle of the wooden door and was slightly taken aback to see that it was the small metal figure of a stag with its horns outstretched to both the sides of its head and its mouth gripping the rounded metal used for knocking. He was then suddenly assaulted with the image of the ravenstag that still visited his dreams every now and then and so alarmed was he that he did not even realize that he took a sudden step back and almost collided with Jack.
“Will!” Jack called from behind him, concern coloring his voice.
“Are you alright?”
Will blinked away the fading image of the ravenstag in his mind and turned to look at Jack.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just got dizzy. I woke up with a headache this morning, must be the stress catching up to me.” Will lied smoothly.
Jack nodded slowly, although a frown came on his face.
“Do you need medicine?” Jack asked.
Will shook his head.
“No, I try to lessen my intake of medicine as much as possible.” He replied.
Jack nodded once more, this time in understanding.
“Alright. Do you want to do the honors?” He asked while motioning for the door knocker.
Will took a deep breath before answering.
“Why not?”
And he lifted the rounded metal on the stag’s mouth and knocked three times.
Esperanza sat on the high metal chairs that rounded the island of her kitchen as she sipped on some dark hot chocolate as she heard the tell-tale signs of a car engine being shut off outside her lawn. She had already expected the police to appear outside her house sometime this week and thus had prepared herself for the inevitable confrontation and rigorous interview. |
d2a11a26da384e1fb7381a165e30267a | ['d88a9d80599949518fb239f4f82a1dfb'] | “Whatever, look - are you here to work or for a summer joy ride with your friend, Chloe?”
Rae’s eyes narrowed. “I’m here to work. I don’t ‘joy ride’.” She spat out the last two words as if they were sour grapes.
“Good, let’s get started then.” He flipped open the binder.
****
The top of the binder hit the table hard when Finn flipped it open and Rae bit back a laugh. He was being dramatic. When he called her “May”, her inner resolve to succeed bolstered. _I will prove whatever he thinks of me right now wrong._ Her usual response to this sort of situation in Lincolnshire would have been embarrassment and withdrawal, but now she wouldn’t allow all that history in the door. In this moment, she could either succeed or crumble.
_I am strong._ She started using the phrase as a mantra during college and often returned to it in moments of doubt. For the first time, her years of therapy, all the time she’d spent learning new self-beliefs, was paying off. She didn’t magically feel different, but she sensed an awakening.
Rae forced her attention back to Finn. An hour passed with them slowly working through paperwork - employment forms, conduct handbook, station rules, and a general list of her responsibilities for the summer. As he talked, Rae watched Finn. He had softened and seemed like the same guy she met last night, but she could barely read his personality. From what she knew of him between last night to now, she assumed he was exactly as Archie said - a grumpy sod. Little things intrigued her though - why was he working here? How had he and Archie become friends? How had they _stayed_ friends? They seemed so different. Clearly he had good taste in music, he’s obviously fit and has to know it. Girls must fall all over him.
Rae kept staring at the side of his face when she should have been looking at the papers in front of her. _His jawline and lips are to die for._ Finn caught her and snapped, “Stop staring at me, it freaks me out.”
She quickly looked away and shook her head. _Don’t be weird._ “I’m not staring at you.”
When the two were done, Finn lead Rae to Kester’s office and made introductions, “Heyya Kester, this is our tardy intern Rae. You wanted to take her to lunch, yeah?”
Kester had a kind, but stern face. He dressed like a disheveled college professor and was almost completely bald. “Yeah, figure we’ll walk up to the chippy for a quick bite and get acquainted. Sound good, Rae?”
Rae smiled, thankful she wouldn’t be stuck with Finn all day. “Sounds grand.”
Kester and Rae left Heart and made their way towards the chippy on Hobb’s Hill.
****
Finn watched Kester and Rae leave with a sign of relief.
_God. I need a smoke and a brew._
He headed to the break room. This close to lunch, a few of the other employees were there, eating and catching up. Finn valued being in a quiet place where people were kind and enjoyed life over the summer. Kester had become a trusted counselor to Finn, helping him think through what could come next in his life. Everything about Heart made him calm.
Finn came up next to one of the DJs and hit him on the shoulder, motioning to the table tennis paddles nearby. “Fancy a game, Danny?”
Danny laughed, “Always!” The two started up a game on the table nearby, picking up the paddles and squaring off against each other.
Finn’s attention kept shifting to the moments he caught Rae staring at him in the conference room. He knew he had been a dick and was conflicted. _Why do I care?_ The ball bounced across the table with a sharp click, and Danny hit it back to Finn. He slammed the ball back to Danny, who laughed. “A little angry?”
Finn mocked a smile at Danny, hitting the ball as hard as he could on the return serve.
****
Rae and Kester sat in the chippy, eating and talking business. Kester was diplomatic, reassuring Rae Heart was glad for her to be there, but she had joined a team focused on working hard over the summer. She nodded and listened. The longer Kester talked, Rae became certain one of her assumptions about Finn had been wrong. “Kester, who’s my boss?” She assumed it _was_ Finn based on the way he acted that morning.
Kester smiled. “Me.”
_DICK! He acted like my boss, but he’s not anyone’s boss._
“Oh, that’s good to know. This morning, I thought it was Finn. I’m really sorry about being late, I promise it won’t happen again.” She decided to take Finn’s advice from earlier and stopped with just the apology.
“No problem, just be dependable - that’s what I really ask. You’ll work a lot with Finn, he was a first year intern last summer and we talked him into coming back this year after getting a year of uni studies under his belt. We’re lucky to have him, but he’s still learning too. Hopefully you two can help each other.” Kester put a chip in his mouth and gave a reassuring nod to Rae.
_He’s here doing the same thing I am, cheeky bastard!_ | b22511c091aa4e1a8fb0746f84df9fbb | ['d88a9d80599949518fb239f4f82a1dfb'] | Izzy matched her expression, water collecting in the corner of her eyes. She warmly smiled at Rae. “Don’t start _that_. I’m hormonal, you’re hormonal…we’ll never stop. I’m more than excited to be the one helping, it means a ton to me. And don’t you ever forget it was Izzy and Chop that helped you make this memory.” She poked Rae in the arm.
“Trust me, we won’t.” Rae gently pulled Izzy and Clementine into a hug, both babies safely nestled between their bodies. Clementine’s carrier sat just above Rae’s abdomen and her little feet gently kicked back. Rae sensed Tim responding, pushing against her rigid stomach muscles. It made her burst into tears. “I’m so glad we’ll only be two hours from here, eight hours from Archie and less than that from our families. It’s really perfect, almost in the middle of everyone.”
Izzy’s arms tightened around her. “It’s completely perfect. Now come on, we’ve got to get a hustle on otherwise Chop will likely drown keeping Finn from coming back early.”
***
Finn tumbled under a wave, his nose filling with frigid salt water. He’d lost count of how many times it had happened since pushing his board out across the glassy surface. _I am out of practice._ He broke through the water, adeptly forcing the liquid out of his nose and taking in a deep breath in only a few seconds. He grabbed his board, pushing himself up to lay on it. Dehydrated from drinking the night before, his brain screamed in pain from the physical exertion. _I do not rebound as quickly as when I was twenty-two. Shit, does that mean I’m getting old?_ He straddled the board. Chop sat ahead of the waves on his right and Finn could hear him laughing. He shot an annoyed glare in his direction.
“Mate, what’s wrong with you? It’s like you have no balance.”
Finn yelled back, “Shut up, you twat. It wasn’t my idea to surf, pretty sure you’re the one desperate for friends and forcing me to get out today. You ready to head in?”
Chop examined the shore, then looked back at Finn. “Girls aren’t here yet, we should wait.”
“We can meet them at the house. I’m tired, let’s go.”
“One more wave.”
“Ok, _one_ more.”
The two paddled across the white breaks, the uplift causing Finn’s stomach to lurch. He forgot the sensation of being on the ocean and missed it. _I should be near somewhere I can surf more often._ Chop waited for him and they lined themselves up to catch the next wave rolling in towards the shore. Finn looked behind him, then over to Chop and gave a final glance to sandy beach. In the distance he saw Izzy’s trademark red hair. _They’re here, thank God._ He turned back to the wave, swiftly laying down on his stomach and focusing. _Make it a good one._ He quieted his mind, letting his body tune into the movement of the water under his board. The ocean pitched, sending him forward as the beginning of the wave rolled under him. Finn pushed his arms into the water, paddling forward to keep himself in time with the movement. At the right moment, he popped up on his board, the balls of his feet settling quickly on the smooth surface as he balanced on the crest. For the first time that morning, he rode the water without falling off. _Knew I hadn’t lost it._ When he made it to the beach, he looked back for Chop who was no where to be found. He turned to find Izzy, only to see Chop already settled by the girls. Board firmly tucked under Finn’s arm, he trudged across the sand towards them.
Rae sat next to Izzy, propped up with hands behind her back. She gave him a devious smile. “You looked sexy out there, Finlay. Leave the wetsuit on for later.”
Chop loudly protested, “Ohhhh, no. We don’t need to hear about what you two do in your private time!”
Finn dropped his board next to Chop, causing sand to fly upwards into his face. “Where did you get off to?”
“Wiped out, mate. Swam back to shore.” He pointed to Finn while talking to Rae and Izzy, “You should have seen this twat earlier, that’s the first good wave he caught and it was just in time to impress you two. Pretty sure it was a gag your lad played on me all morning.”
“Piss off.” Finn plopped down on the sand next to Rae, laying back and closing his eyes. He was gritty and tired. _I want a shower and a good meal._ “Let’s go home.” Everyone was suspiciously silent. Finn opened his eyes, squinting at the sky before looking at the back of their heads. The three were exchanging glances. “What you up to?”
They answered in unison, “Nothing.”
“I’ve known you all too long to believe that.” He sat up, studying them.
Rae brushed sand from the back of his wet hair, reassuring him, “We can go if you’re ready. Just thought it would be nice to sit here and enjoy the sun since they don’t need to pick the boys up from school for a while yet.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re up to something, is this like the practical joke when you stole my clothes and I didn’t have anything to change back into? I don’t want to walk through town in a wetsuit again.”
She pinched his cheek. “Now why would I do that _again_? I came up with something even better.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Shit.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Izzy and Chop leaned forward, peering at him around Rae. “You’re going to go mental it’s so brilliant.” |
8e741778ceed435c97402f0c581a844a | ['d89d3ca07bb441fd86c2e727d3f9b3e1'] | Hux signalled a trooper over and watched as they found a wound over Poe's ribcage, pushing their fingers against it to make him twist and writhe in pain.
"What is our Supreme Leaders name?"
Poe's body jerked involuntarily away from the press of the troopers fingers. "Ben Solo..."
The trooper withdrew their fingers from the injury and landed a strike against it instead, breaking the flesh open further. Then, they went back to pushing against the swollen tissue, blood oozing around black gloves and speckling the pristine white armour. Poe cried out in pain.
"What is our Supreme Leaders name?" Hux demanded again, his voice raising several octaves.
"Ben Solo!" Poe said between grit teeth, feeling like the trooper could reach inside the wound in his side and snap a rib with their bare hand.
Hux tisked softly, watching the trooper for a moment. He turned away from Poe as the scent of blood started to permeate the air of the small cell. The trooper still hadn't relented in their torture, not until Hux waved them off with a dismissive hand.
"Keep him awake. You are not to give him any food. Monitor his vitals and administer water when needed. If he acts out, activate the IT-O interrogation droid. I don't think the Commander has had the pleasure of meeting that one, yet."
Poe closed his eyes when Hux left the cell, but a slap to his already bruised face startled him back into a rigid consciousness.
"You guys suck." He muttered, spitting blood on the floor.
The trooper that had been clawing at his side wiped their bloody fingers on Poe's clothing and hit him several times in the abdomen with the butt of their blaster just because they could. Poe spat up a little more blood and let out a low whine of pain.
His whole body ached, and they could break his body as they saw fit, but Poe wouldn't give up on Ben. There had to be a small part of him left in Kylo Ren's head, and Poe was going to wrench it out of him if it was the last thing he ever did.
5. Nowhere to Run
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Post-TLJ. Warning for graphic violence.
On the fourth day, even Hux had some compassion and let Poe have something to eat. It wasn't anything more than protein bars and some caf, but Poe was grateful for anything at this point. He was ravenous, trying to slow his eating so it would fill him faster for longer, but he couldn't help it. His stomach hurt a little afterward but he was grateful to feel full; the hunger pangs were an awful addition to his already sore body.
He had only slept here and there, mostly when the troopers were changing shifts or when one couldn't be bothered to keep him up. His right eye was so swollen he couldn't open it, and his body was littered with bruises. His bottom lip was split and caked with dried blood and his clothes clung to him in places where patches of blood had seeped through the fabric.
When troopers came to retrieve him from his cell for another round of torture, he still fought despite how much his body hurt. He received a blow to his stomach from a blaster which made him double over, becoming a little more pliant as they moved him from one room to the other, but he still kicked and flailed while he could as they strapped him into the interrogation chair.
When Hux walked in, carrying a cup of hot caf in his hand, he made a slight face as he took in Poe's appearance.
"You smell worse than a bantha farmer." He quipped, crossing the room to activate his favourite interrogation droid.
"Yeah well the accommodations are a little lacking around here." Poe snapped back, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.
"You're much more resilient than other prisoners." Hux noted as he monitored Poe's vitals, "Four days and still no answers. The Supreme Leader will be visiting today, so I hope you find your voice before he intrudes on your mind."
The interrogation droid came to life and drifted over to Hux, hovering over his shoulder. Poe's eyes widened. Even General Leia spoke about how awful these droids were, and they were more feared than any other interrogator droid that the First Order had.
The droid floated close and Poe felt a needle slip under the skin on his neck, the injection site feeling cold as the droid administered something viscous into his veins. He grit his teeth as the droid floated back, beginning its scan and identifying Poe's most sensitive areas on his body.
"IT-O is lowering your pain threshold and keeping you conscious for the procedure." Hux explained, "And now its identifying the most sensitive parts on your body. Try not to scream too much when giving your responses, I need them coherent."
Poe's eyes snapped to Hux again and he was about to bark back a response when the droid pressed a painful shock to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He thrashed with the pain, but didn't give Hux the satisfaction of a scream.
"Where is the rebel base?" The droid asked in monotone, waiting only several seconds for a response before shocking Poe again.
He closed his eyes and couldn't help the low whimper; the pain was increased tenfold by the drug coursing through his veins.
"Where is the rebel base?" It repeated.
Poe was silent. | a50c404793d349bda8c50e8184fb7526 | ['d89d3ca07bb441fd86c2e727d3f9b3e1'] | The moment the door to their room shut behind them, he backed Poe up against it, kissing and nipping at his neck and jaw, eliciting a low moan from the pilot. He took Poe's hands in his own and pinned them over his head, holding them in place with one of his hands.
"We've got a couple more hours before we have to leave." Hux said against Poe's skin, teeth grazing gently.
"Lets make the best of it, then." He said with a breathy smirk.
Hux gave a bite to the juncture of Poe's neck and shoulder. "I should've just let you keep your pants off..."
Poe's chuckle melted into another moan as Hux pressed the heel of his hand against the front of his pants. A couple hours would _probably_ be enough time.
3. Nightmares
Everything felt hazy around him, darkness fading to a light grey as that little orange droid rolled up and whistled at him happily. He tried to make out his surroundings but he couldn't; it was just him and the droid in this light grey void of a space. He wasn't scared though; in fact, he was elated, a smile on his face.
"BB-8 my buddy! It's so good to see you!" He exclaimed, dropping to his knees and greeting the droid with a couple rubs on the droids round belly, causing it to shift slightly back and forth in front of him in its own excitement.
The grey haze shifted a little, swirling around him like murky water. He stood back up again as he heard his name echo from somewhere within the blackness. He squinted as if that would improve his vision, but he saw nothing.
"Poe? Poe Dameron? You're alive?" The voice asked.
Poe reached out into the darkness and it seemed to wrap itself around him, like a creatures tendrils winding itself around his body. He looked at his hands, puzzled, and then the tendrils pulled tight, squeezing painfully. Suddenly, he was back on a Star destroyer, but he was strapped to a chair and surrounded by stormtroopers. Kylo Ren stood in front of him.
"Where is the map to Skywalker?" He asked.
Poe tried to fight, tried to struggle but he felt those tendrils gripping him again, squeezing tighter and tighter the more he struggled. He tried to scream but no sound came out. He tried to move but his body felt like his bones were filled with cement. He struggled to breathe, body thrashing in its place.
"Where is it?" Ren asked again, his patience clearly beginning to run short with Poe.
He fought against the tendrils, trying to resist looking at the man in front of him. He could feel eyes under that mask burning through him and it made his whole body shudder.
"The Resistance will not be intimidated by you." He finally said through grit teeth, shocked to hear his own voice. It echoed throughout his head as he was thrown back into the darkness, Ren disappearing into the black void. He could still feel him there though, the burning presence - the crushing, weighted anxiety on his chest making it hard for him to breathe.
Poe's body shocked itself awake and he sat upright in bed, heart hammering hard in his chest. He was tangled in the sheets and sweating profusely, chest heaving with every breath. He could feel himself shaking and he wasn't sure if it was because he had somehow starved himself of oxygen while he dreamed or something else. His eyes were glossy, searching the room frantically for his lover.
"Hux," He cried out desperately, "Armitage!"
Hux appeared in the bathroom doorway, hair damp and shirtless, his brow creased with concern. He crossed the room as swiftly as his legs would carry him and sat on the edge of the bed, Poe immediately clinging to him. He frowned, beginning to thread his fingers through those dark curls, trying to get him to relax. He could feel Poe's body trembling against his own, but he knew from the clamminess of his skin that it wasn't from being cold.
"Another nightmare?" He asked softly, guilt stabbing him between his ribs at Poe's appearance.
Poe nodded against him. "I felt like I couldn't breathe. The Supreme Leader was there asking about... Sky... Skywalker? A map to Skywalker? But he was interrogating me and it felt so real... the pain..."
Hux stiffened a little, but continued to try and calm Poe. He hummed lowly, fingers sliding from his hair to his right temple where he idly drew a figure eight. The barely-there pressure made Poe's eyelids flutter a little, but he knew no amount of calming techniques Hux usually used were going to work.
"Do the thing." He said softly, "The sequencing thing."
Poe didn't know how it worked, or why - just that it did. When his nightmares were severe enough to make him feel his amount of anxiety, sometimes going as far to make him physically ill - Hux would just say a series of words and everything would be alright. He didn't question it. He just knew he needed it.
Hux sighed, closing his own eyes for a minute. "Just breathe. Calm your mind... breathe deeply. 13. Binary. 26. Blast. 31. Shutter. 42. Portal."
Poe's body sagged in Hux's arms, the tension immediately fading away. Hux continued his gentle touches, contemplating Poe and his beautiful vulnerability as he traced the man's jaw. Poe laid over his lovers lap for several minutes before sitting up again, that bewildered look in his deep brown eyes. Hux gave a small smile and kissed him gently, Poe cupping his face and smiling against his lips.
"Are you feeling better?" He asked when the kiss broke, and Poe nodded. He didn't really remember what had happened, though he knew he had things that Hux called 'episodes'. He didn't question it; he just appreciated it every time he opened his eyes and Hux was there, protecting him. |
24e48e5c3b644c51948983f7849351ed | ['d8bae192f32b489385b37a88e0e51ac5'] | She most definitely did not expect to be pushed against the aquarium and have her lab coat literally ripped apart by Shepard’s hands (Cerberus be praised). The exclamation about to leave her lips was silenced by the forceful kiss and instead all she did was moan.
They didn’t even make it to the bed, and Shepard was only satisfied once Liara was thoroughly ravished and exhausted, leaning on her to keep standing. Hoisting Liara up by her hips, Shepard carried her to the bed with utmost care, stripping of her own clothes before lying down.
“What brought this on? Because if it was something I did, I’ll make sure to do it again.” Liara asked with a sly smile.
“You know what I just heard down in engineering? Donnelly said he was thinking about inviting you to play strip poker. _Strip poker!”_
Liara hid her face against Shepard’s neck, trying not to laugh. “Hmm, are you jealous, Commander?”
“It’s more than enough having James drooling over you the entire time, I don’t need to hear anyone on my crew saying how they want to see _my_ bondmate naked.”
“Ah, so you rip my clothes apart.” Liara mused. “May I know how I’m supposed to go back to my office?”
“To begin with, you’re so not leaving this cabin anytime soon. And when you do, you will wear something of mine.”
# 5. She was the universe’s magnum opus.
Liara could never explain that one thing: how Shepard was what she was. Not human, but a vessel of raw, pure power. Uncorrupted, the purest soul to exist. She felt it during melds, and she saw it in Shepard’s every action. She was ultimately selfless, and the impossible did not apply to her. She had survived where any other would’ve perished.
The galaxy may know part of it; they can see the hero, the legend, _their saviour_ , but Liara can see and touch the woman under the armour. Liara can touch the soul guarded deep inside Shepard’s body and understand her like no other.
She was granted permission to become one with Shepard, and the things she knew…
Shepard was a woman with super powers and simple needs, and Liara, for all her noble education, could not find the words to explain how such phenomenon was possible. Shepard saw good where Liara thought there was none left, and when all Liara felt was corruption running along her veins.
Liara had been broken, emotionally detached, and ruthlessly carving her way towards her objective and Shepard came back to fix her. She pushed and shoved and stripped Liara of her every protection. She came back from the dead and she fixed all wrongs.
For Liara, that was a true Goddess. | 66dcb20cd73f4d3d8707501afbe87ca2 | ['d8bae192f32b489385b37a88e0e51ac5'] | Fire Within
# **i.** **The first time, she was training.**
Korra was infuriatingly beautiful; also, so powerful Asami could literally call her a goddess. Furthermore, it was oh so infuriatingly frustrating to watch her like that: panting, covered in sweat, and with such revealing attire. Asami was drooling. With Korra dressing only a sports bra and – _really_ short – shorts, it was difficult not to stare.
If the clothes haven’t done it, the bending surely did. It was fire, and it was hot, but not only that, it was Korra manipulating – _dominating_ – fire, which was hotter.
Her movements came to a halt after a few more minutes and with a deep intake of air, she let out a small blast of fire as she exhaled.
_That was fucking it!_
Korra was only aware of Asami’s presence when she found herself tackled to the ground, a forceful kiss pressed against her lips.
“’Sami… I-“
“Shut up.”
# **ii.** **The second time, she was so hot she could not help it.**
There was a list of things Korra would never have imagined about Asami.
(1) She had a thing for R&B, and would listen to some dirty songs.
(2) She would totally dance to aforementioned dirty songs.
(3) For someone with such a cool exterior, Asami was strikingly… naughty.
(4) She was _almost_ sexually insatiable, although that was something Korra would never complain about – _really, she was not that different_ –.
(5) Asami is not only very talented with her hands, as the super great engineer she is, but also her mouth could do serious wonders to Korra’s body.
However, there was a chance Korra has had, in fact, fantasized a lot about the last item. Such thinking gave her enough willpower to mutter, “Asami, I need your mouth… lower.”
She could feel the smug smile on her neck, but chose to ignore it as long as Asami kept descending her kisses. Korra moaned involuntarily as a welcome warmth closed around her clit and her hands griped the bedsheets on their own accord. Her body obeying Asami rather than her own mind.
Beforehand, Asami had teased and denied her release for so long that it did not take that much stimulation for Korra to fall apart. Only Asami wasn’t done yet, so she continued… on and on, until Korra was too sensitive and breathed out a weak “Stop”.
With her hands still tightly wrapped on the burgundy sheets, it took her two full second to notice the faint smoke and burnt smell in the room. Korra bolted upright, suddenly worried, and looked down at the ruined fabric under her grip.
“Spirits! I’m– I am so sorry, ‘Sami.”
However, Asami was not sorry, _at all_ , with her bloody insolent smirk and arched brow. She was sitting near the end of the bed, unabashedly staring, her chin glimmering with Korra’s arousal.
“You know, I have always had a weak spot for your bending. Water and fire specifically. Fluid movements and, well… fire. It’s hot, indeed.” She said slowly.
If Korra wasn’t feeling hot enough, now she was burning, struggling to keep the fire within under control.
# **iii.** **The third time, she was _so_ sorry (again). **
They had been playing Pai Sho at Asami’s suggestion. And they stopped at Asami’s suggestion. Kind of, actually, as all she had done was flip the board on to the ground. She kissed Korra and gave her _that_ look; it was more than enough to get the Avatar to follow her.
A little bit competition over control in bed was nothing new to the both of them, but Asami was having none of this and simply tied Korra’s hands with a piece of silk; she could rip it apart easily, but Korra was paying to see where Asami was going with that. She was not going to admit, nonetheless, she enjoyed being dominated.
The one bloody thing she did not fancy was how Asami could be so damn patient. In addition, there was that maddening little smirk.
_Damn you, Asami._
Only when she was positively sure Korra was about to combust, she complied with the girl’s wishes. From between her legs, Asami was at least 92% certain she saw ghostly white light blink on Korra’s eyes before a small burst of fire left her mouth. Korra freed herself of the silk binding her and laid her arms on top of her head. Asami let out a low chuckle before kissing Korra’s abs, tracing the tattoo that covered her torso with the tip of her finger until Korra regained her breath.
She moved to a sitting position, her back to Asami, and whispered, “I’m really sorry about that, I just…” She sighed. “I should ask Tenzin how to… control myself better under… so much… it’s embarrassing.”
Hugging her from behind, Asami ran her hands up and down Korra’s sides in a soothing movement. “Don’t be sorry about it, haven’t I ever said how hot it is?” she pointed out, kissing the back of her girlfriend’s neck.
“But it could –” _hurt you,_ she was going to say if Asami had not shut her up.
Also, Asami didn’t mention that these small outbursts were nice to her ego; instead, she straddled Korra’s lap and took her hand, guiding it between her legs. “Now, now… can you help me with something?” she husked.
**Author's Note:**
> Feedback is always appreciated! Also, this fanfic was posted at ff.net too, I'm nvalenca there. |
d43efa0230b348cc96a91f49afb6dc52 | ['d8bdf0af9e2f4c54a3306eebdbe1c35a'] | "Now that I'm no longer detracting you... Do you remember what you wanted to talk about?" He asked as he looked down at her as he wrapped his arm her shoulder to try and shield her from the cold weather
"I know I already asked back at the cabin but I just want to make sure... Do you really love me? Or did you just say it in the heat of the moment?" She asked avoiding eye contact
"Look at me" He told her turning to stand in front of her as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his "It wasn't just in the heat of the moment, it wasn't something I just said for no reason... I meant every single word I said, I love you, no I'm in love with you... I'm not sure exactly when I fell for you, if it was when you walked into that bar in Russia wearing that red dress you look so good in, or if it was when you told me you wanted to marry a backstreet boy, or if it was when I was kicking your ass at a game of pool, all I know is that I love you, all of you, the good, the bad and everything in between"
"Well im not that good at speeches but I want you to know that I love you too... I'm really glad that I met you and that you're in my life." she told him as she kissed him then pulled back and said "Oh and by the way I let you beat me at pool, I didn't want to wound that male ego of yours"
"Okay sore loser if that's what you want to believe" he said as he quickly resumed kissing her
When the need to breath became too much to bare they both separated reluctantly
She started back walking but stopped when she realized Will wasn't following her turning around to see what he was doing
Shocked to see him on one knee "What are you doing? Get up" she told him panicked
Grabbing her hand in his he asked "Will you Frankie Trowbridge do me the honer of going out with me?"
"I should say no just because you scared the shit out of me..." she tells him slapping his shoulder lightly
"But?" He asked hopeful
"But yes I would love to go out with you" she told him causing him to get the biggest grin which she soon matched with a grin of her own
Standing up he said "Com' on, let's get you home" as they made their way to Frankies apartment
"Did you honestly think I was going propose before I even took you out to dinner?" He asked with a laugh
"Well yes... It seemed like a very 'Will' thing to do" she said giggling
"Yeah I guess I can't really argue with that... But you should've seen your face... You looked terrified" he told her
"Yeah well it'll be a funny story to tell the kids one day" she said teasingly before she thought about it her eyes widened as she realized what she just implied
"Yeah it will, want it?!" He says like talking about their future kids is the most natural thing in the world as they reach her apartment door
Bending down to give her a quick kiss her "goodnight. I love you" he told her softly
"Goodnight. Love you too" she said opening her door and walking into her apartment
Just as he was turning to leave she whispered "Stay" as she reached for his hand pulling him into the door way
"You sure you want me to stay?" He asked lifting an eyebrow
"Yes and I don't just mean stay the night... I've lost a lot of people in my life and I don't want to ever lose you, so promise me you'll stay" she tells him
"I'm not going anywhere" he promises as he steps fully into her apartment then shuts the door
And it was a promise he kept for the rest of their lives
(Finished)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry I know it's short... But thanks so much for reading!!! Lots of love :)
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you all enjoy this story it was originally going to be a one-shot but I've decided to make it longer. Thank you so much for reading it means so much to me!! You guys are the best fandom in the world!! Lots of loves :) | fc228c901b9e477a9d25b3b31f85c4bc | ['d8bdf0af9e2f4c54a3306eebdbe1c35a'] | "It's okay Emma... Its not a problem" Will said with a wide grin his eyes never leaving Frankie
"Okay am I missing something?" Emma asked looking around the room
"Why don't we let Will's girlfriend explain what's going on" Standish teased but shut up quickly when Frankie shot him a look
"I didn't tell her I was his girlfriend!" Frankie said hurriedly "she just assumed"
"But you didn't correct her" Will said the grin never leaving his face
"I was going to..... But then I didn't" Frankie said looking at the ground
"Why not?" Will asked
"I don't know" Frankie huffs
"I think you do" Will said
"I don't want too talk about it" Frankie said crossing her arms
"Why didn't you correct her Frankie?" Will asked again
"Why does it matter? Did you want me to?!" Frankie asked
"No..." Will said "but I'd like to know why you didn't"
"I was jealous okay! Are you happy now?!" Frankie yelled "I didn't correct her because I didn't want her to know"
"Yes" Will said with a smile
"Yes what?" Frankie says
"I am happy now" Will says walking to stand in front of her
"What are you doing?" Frankie asked as he continued to get closer
"Oh I'm fixing to kiss my girlfriend" will said placing his hands on her waist and pulling her against his chest planting his lips on hers making them both smile into the kiss
"So I'm you're girlfriend now?" Frankie said raising a eyebrow
"Well unless you wanted to correct me" will said smugly
"Shut up" Frankie said with a grin pulling him back in for another kiss
(The end)
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks so much for reading... lots of love :) I'm not completely happy with how this turned out so if anyone wants to became a cowriter and help rewrite it let me know :) |
439b201b21ed416c95969f04f242eaf0 | ['d8c5cf7b92214d5db05586e85ea088e4'] | The guy is staring at his face—eyes wide, mouth open, the deal. One of his earbuds is dangling in the air and he's standing up. Donghyuck stares back at him incredulously. That’s when he realizes that they’ve both dyed their hair a different color since the last time they’ve seen each other. Donghyuck’s hair, albeit a bit faded, is a light orange, and the guy’s hair is bleached blonde under his beanie.
_It looks kind of good,_ he thinks absently, but quickly shoves the thought away.
“—Yes?” he forces out. His voice suffers a slight crack.
“You…” the guy starts, still holding onto Donghyuck’s wrist. Donghyuck refrains from ripping it out of his hold. He doesn’t really have the courage to, anyway.
He stands and waits for the other to continue, somehow getting himself to seem calm, when in reality he’s about to start freaking out because he needs to _get off the bus now_ before he misses his stop.
“What?” he questions, impatience bleeding through his tone in a way that surprises himself. He blinks slowly, squaring his shoulders back. The guy looks slightly taken aback.
“I, um—nevermind,” he finishes quickly, and lets go of Donghyuck’s wrist. “You can get off.”
Donghyuck thinks he hears a muttered ‘sorry’ after, but disregards it and leaves without another word.
A week and a half trails by. Donghyuck is eating Thai takeout with Jisung in their living room, watching t.v. with the volume turned down. Jisung has been silent for the majority of their meal, and Donghyuck doesn’t mind it at all, but it’s so unlike the younger to not say anything for a span of more than four minutes. It’s been half an hour.
Donghyuck speaks up. “Is something wrong?” he asks, gently nudging Jisung’s knee with his leg. The younger startles slightly and looks up from where he’s been staring at a blank space on the wall.
“Huh? Oh, no,” he says, pausing to clear his throat. “Everything’s fine, hyung.” His expression says otherwise.
“You’re a bad liar,” Donghyuck sighs as he sets his box of takeout down on the table. “You can tell me if something’s wrong, Jisung.”
Jisung fumbles with his chopsticks for a moment, eyes trained on his half-eaten curry. It takes him some time, but he eventually opens his mouth to say, “I saw Jeno-hyung today.” He pauses to gauge Donghyuck’s reaction before continuing. “He was with someone. Renjun-hyung. He’s close friends with Chenle, I’ve told you about him before. He tutored me when I was in middle school and we still see each other sometimes.”
Jisung shifts on the couch uncomfortably. “I think they’re dating.”
Oh. Well he kind of knew that already. He just didn’t know it was Renjun.
“I saw them too,” Donghyuck starts. “When I was out having dinner not too long ago. I’m happy for him,” he admits truthfully. “It’s okay, Ji. He deserves someone.”
Jisung looks at him in shock. The ‘o’ shape of his mouth shyly gives into a small smile, and he nods in understanding. They finish up their food and Donghyuck stays in the living room with Jisung until midnight, watching the younger play video games while he thinks silently to himself.
At the end of May, Donghyuck’s second semester of his second year of college comes to an end, and his summer break begins.
As expected, Chenle comes crashing into their apartment (literally, crashing) at eight p.m. screaming _party!!!_ at the top of his lungs. He promptly launches himself at Jisung when he spots the younger, and Jisung barely has a second to blindly fling his phone onto the couch before catching his boyfriend in his arms.
“We’re going to meet up with some friends at Neo to drink, you wanna come, hyung?” Chenle asks Donghyuck while latched onto Jisung like a koala. _Please come,_ he mouths with a pout.
Donghyuck shrugs. “I guess. But how are we going to get in if we’re not twenty-one?” He fixes Chenle with a curious stare.
“Oh, they rarely check I.D. at the door. Plus, I know people there,” Chenle says, like it’s obvious. “Besides...I don’t think that’ll be your biggest problem tonight,” the younger says vaguely. Jisung clears his throat.
“It’s okay, Le. Hyung knows. About Renjun, and...Jeno,” Jisung murmurs, face buried against Chenle’s shoulder. His arms are starting to ache.
Donghyuck blinks. “Oh, they’re going to be there?”
“We don’t know for sure yet, ‘cause they said they might just stay at Jeno-hyung’s,” Chenle informs him.
“Okay. Well, that’s fine,” Donghyuck replies easily and makes his way to his room to start getting ready.
/
It takes him half an hour to brush his teeth, fix his hair, change into an outfit, and switch his earrings out for a different pair. He walks out into the living room dressed in a dark long-sleeve shirt and jeans, with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder containing his wallet and phone. Jisung and Chenle give him their thumbs-up of approval.
“Let’s get going! Party time!” Chenle shouts excitedly, and Donghyuck reaches over the counter to grab his keys.
They get into the club easily enough, and a worker escorts them to a round booth in the corner of the room. Chenle thanks them with a sweet smile.
“Ji, come on, let’s get drinks,” he says as he tugs on Jisung’s sleeve. Donghyuck cocks his head to the side.
“What if they card you?” he asks.
Chenle shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, hyung! I told you, I know people. Now what do you want to start off with? Shots?” Chenle giggles.
“Just get me a mimosa. Two-thirds _oj_. And don’t get kicked out.” Donghyuck waves them off and takes a seat inside of the booth.
He waits for about fifteen minutes, looking around and checking out recent news articles on his phone. He’s in the middle of checking his twitter feed when Chenle and Jisung come back with drinks in their hands. | dc41381ac88c459eb5484703a9ef019c | ['d8c5cf7b92214d5db05586e85ea088e4'] | “Are you sure that’s okay with you?” Jaemin asks him as they walk down the hall together. Renjun scratches the back of his neck and peers up at him nonchalantly.
“Yeah. My parents won’t be home anyway. Unless your parents will have a problem with that,” Renjun adds.
Jaemin shakes his head. It makes his earrings swing around and twinkle in the daylight coming in through the windows. Jaemin has a multitude of ear piercings as well; not as many as Renjun does, and not in the same style, but Renjun still can’t help finding them sort of attractive.
“My parents won’t have a problem with it. I slept over at a close friend’s dorm pretty often back in NC. It’s no biggie,” Jaemin assures him, and Renjun immediately wonders if he’s talking about his boyfriend.
“Okay. By the way, I’m kind of...bad, at working, so you’ll sort of have to remind me to get my parts of the assignment done, even when we’re together. Sorry. It might be kind of hard to work with me at first,” Renjun confesses. Jaemin reaches down and grabs his hand lightly, startling him a bit.
“I really don’t mind,” Jaemin responds, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “You don’t have to worry about that sort of stuff. Thanks for letting me know though.”
Renjun, slightly panicked, just nods and slips his hand into his pocket. They keep walking.
-
Friday comes a lot faster than expected. The school day itself goes by pretty smoothly, the only major issue he encounters being getting one of his earrings stuck in the material of Donghyuck’s sweater when he leans his head against his shoulder.
“You good?” Jeno laughs quietly from beside them. Renjun rolls his eyes but he’s kind of smiling too, because he's in a good mood. He's excited. Jaemin helps to unhook his stud from Donghyuck’s sweater and succeeds.
“Oh, by the way, should I bring anything in particular to your place tonight?” Jaemin asks him, stopping to munch on a stick of celery. Renjun grimaces. Celery is gross.
“I can’t really think of anything right now,” he answers truthfully, rubbing at his slightly-sore ear. “Just don’t forget to bring your toothbrush, laptop, and some clothes to sleep in.”
Jaemin hums and nods contentedly. Jeno leans forward, eyes wide with interest.
“What’s going on?” He asks. Renjun shrugs.
“Sleepover.”
Jeno pouts. “Without me?”
“It’s for our English project, dumbass,” Renjun laughs and Jeno leans back, looking wounded.
“Don’t you have a game tonight anyway?” Donghyuck questions. Jeno nods slowly, still pouting.
Jaemin’s ears perk up. “You’re playing tonight?”
Jeno beams. “Yeah. It’s our first game of the season. You should come.” Renjun watches warily as Jaemin mirrors his best friend’s smile.
“English project due in one week,” he reminds them both, but mainly Jaemin. Now it’s Jaemin’s turn to pout. To be honest, Renjun could care less whether or not they get started on their project today (or _ever_ in that case), but he doesn’t want to risk having to inevitably deal with his feelings while watching Jeno play soccer. He figures that it’s just another Jeno-related weakness of his.
“Okay,” Jaemin relents, leaning his head against Renjun’s. Renjun complains that his hair will get messed up but doesn’t make to move away.
“Please?” He hears Jeno murmur and looks over in surprise. “I want you to come.”
Jeno looks at him with pleading eyes. Renjun blanches.
“Uh.”
“We’ll come,” Donghyuck says to Jeno, slapping a hand over his shoulder. “All three of us will. Right guys?”
Jaemin nods fervently. Renjun looks between Jaemin and Donghyuck silently, fighting Donghyuck with his eyes, but Donghyuck fights back. And he wins.
“Fine,” he says, chest tightening at Jeno’s hopeful expression.
Jeno’s his best friend, it won’t hurt to go and support him at his first game of the season, right?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
-
“What are you wearing to the game?” Renjun asks the moment Donghyuck picks up his call.
“Probably just a short-sleeve and jeans. It’s fucking hot outside.”
“I know,” Renjun grumbles. The weather has yet to cool down and it totally messes with his aesthetic. “What time are you picking me up?”
“Around 6. Be ready!”
Renjun hums and tosses his phone in the general direction of his bed.
“Who whore’d you up?” Is the first thing that comes out of Donghyuck’s mouth when Renjun slides into the passenger’s seat of his car.
“Huh?” Renjun laughs, disbelievingly. “I’m just wearing a tank top.”
“And I’m pretty sure if you moved your arm forward an inch right now I’d be able to see your nipple,” Donghyuck points out. “And your _makeup?_ What, are we heading to a party that I’m unaware of?”
Donghyuck giggles when Renjun reaches over and pinches his thigh.
“Shut up,” he mutters, self-consciously smoothing down the front of his shirt. “I’m not even wearing that much makeup,” he says, eyeshadow coated over his eyelids, eyebrows penciled in, eyes lined, cheeks contoured, lips glossed—
“Uh huh,” Donghyuck drawls, driving down the street. “Does Jaemin need a ride?”
“He has one,” Renjun replies easily.
"He's definitely gonna throw a fit when he sees you."
Renjun gives him a weird look, but lets the moment pass.
“Oh my god?”
Renjun and Donghyuck turn around to see Jaemin walking towards them, blinking rapidly.
“Renjun, oh my god, I didn’t think that your cheekbones could get any sharper. Did you contour? You filled in your eyebrows, too! You look _amazing_ , holy shit,” Jaemin ends his praise with a wide smile. Renjun blinks at him, paralyzed.
He feels the tips of his ears start to redden.
“Hi. You look good too.” |
c271bb661dff473892ec1797e19b230f | ['d8e11fc856f24e09ab46fcae150ebd23'] | Draco’s eyes widened and he stood transfixed as Harry sucked on his finger. It felt exhilarating: the sensual gratification of Draco’s finger in his mouth, tracing his tongue down to the salty skin between Draco’s fingers, and the mind-blowing awareness that Draco’s breath was coming in fast uneven gusts, that he was swaying on his feet and starting to tremble just because of this. Because of Harry.
Harry ran his teeth lightly up Draco’s finger tipping his head back. With a growl Draco snatched it away, caught Harry’s head in his two hands and kissed him fiercely, moaning his name between frenzied kisses.
“Please, Harry, please,” Draco begged. Harry didn’t really know what he was asking for, but hell, he could have it. Whatever it was, whatever he wanted, he could take it, take it now.
Draco hummed with warm approval and, cradling the back of Harry’s head, he laid him back across the desk.
Harry’s hands came up, beginning to fumble with the hundred of tiny buttons that appeared to fasten Draco’s robes. Draco was not similarly encumbered and he just brushed Harry’s hands away, pushed his t-shirt up to his armpits and bent to suck one of Harry’s nipples while palming him through his jeans.
Harry gasped and threw one leg up to hook around Draco’s waist and give himself the leverage he needed to grind his hips up.
“Mmm, Harry, I’ve waited so long for you,” Draco murmured heatedly. “I can’t wait any more. I’m sorry, I just … you are so…” He pulled back to start unfastening Harry’s jeans. “Please, Harry, I can’t wait.”
Harry just thrust up into Draco’s hands. Anything that involved Draco getting in his pants was a good thing. Draco’s needy begging was just driving him even wilder. It felt so good to know that Draco was this trembling, hungry mess because he wanted Harry so much. All his hauteur, all his attempts to ignore Harry and really he wanted this.
Draco managed to get Harry’s fly enough undone to slide one hand inside and grip Harry’s cock. Harry let out a heartfelt moan of satisfaction at the same time as Draco groaned and threw himself down to rest one elbow on the table so he could lean close over Harry as he began to work him slowly with his other hand.
“You feel so good, Harry. You look so good like this. I knew you would. I knew how you would feel under my hands. _Mine_.” Draco bit his lip, staring at Harry intently with his deep, black eyes. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip of Harry’s cock and Harry let out another breathy sound.
“Yes,” Draco smiled softly, eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut, before he forced them open again to gaze at Harry. “I want to see you. I want to see your face when you come. Is this good?”
“Oh, yeah, Draco,” Harry gasped as Draco’s hand twisted. Draco had just the right grip, the slide of his fingers over the ridge of Harry’s cockhead, the edgy drag of friction. Harry clawed at Draco’s back, trying to haul himself closer. He wished Draco had fewer clothes on. His breath was coming in heavy pants now.
Draco was panting too, in sympathy, in unison with the strokes of his hands, his brow pinched as if he was the one on the brink of orgasm. “Oh Harry, you look so beautiful, so perfect. Oh, God, Harry, I can’t wait,” Draco groaned. “I want to see you come. I want to feel you splash over my fingers. I’m going to gather up your come from your belly and push it back inside you, into your arse with my fingers, and then I’m going to fuck you. Come on, Harry…”
“Brother, brother, brother!”
The voice was not threatening, but it was insistent. It had been there for some time, Harry dimly recognised, but was getting louder and more urgent. Harry could not summon the mental faculties to give a damn about working out what was going on.
“Brother, you must wait, brother.”
She didn't sound like she was going away. She should go away though, because it was distracting Draco.
“What?” Draco finally raised himself and barked over his shoulder. Harry groaned, this time in fierce frustration.
“Brother, you must wait. It is not the time.”
Draco growled low in his throat, but to was in annoyance rather than anger. “I have waited long enough.”
“No, you must wait still more. It will be beautiful, but you must wait or you will spoil it.”
Draco let out a sound that was half huff, half whine, but he levered himself off Harry. The loss of Draco’s body heat sent a keen chill through Harry. This was a bad thing, Harry’s depleted mental resources supplied. Whatever it was, it was distracting Draco from fucking him. A very bad thing.
Through the haze of his intense desire and urgent, urgent need to come into Draco’s hand as soon as humanly possible, Harry registered he was lying with his trousers and pants down to mid-thigh in a room in someone else's house and that someone else, at least, was definitely there. He should probably do something.
Putting his dick away seemed like a really stupid idea with Draco standing right there, but then again ...
“Harry, are you all right?” It was Hermione’s voice. Crap. That tipped the balance and Harry shuffled upright and off the desk tugging his trousers back up as he went. This manoeuvre demanded more coordination than he could currently muster and he stumbled forward. | 99cede533e6c4e55b4a6a1a8e67d7b90 | ['d8e11fc856f24e09ab46fcae150ebd23'] | Emilija’s previous forays into the criminal underworld, Eames quickly surmised, had been limited to deliberately not returning library books by the due date. Arthur had managed the introductions at the start of the job.
“Emilija, this is Eames. He’s a forger, which means you will work alongside him in whatever pose we deem can best elicit the information you will be interpreting for us. Do not sleep with him. Eames fucks people like it is a basic courtesy, like remembering someone’s name.”
Eames made a small noise of protest, but Arthur continued. “In fact, he is statistically more likely to fuck you than remember your name.”
“Don’t pay any attention to Arthur.” Eames leaned confidingly towards Emilija, “I’m really very good with names.” And he favoured her with his most sexually predatory smile. He had been gratified to see her struggle to restrain herself from fleeing the room, but still more gratified to see just the faintest quiver of a suppressed smile on Arthur’s lips.
Harassing Emilija made a nice distraction at the points during the day when Eames deemed that needling Arthur was approaching the point where he was likely to be subject to physical injury. Cobb appeared to be oblivious to the disorder in the ranks of his team and had taken to staring out of the window and biting his nails abstractedly.
Eames had decided that he was trying to think of baby names and so peppered his conversation with suggestions. “Montgomery! Not enough Montys in the world today … Eustace! Arthur, are you actually grinding your teeth? You’ll wear down the enamel you know.”
On the first day, they had reviewed the job and tried brainstorming approaches. “Michelet is deeply invested personally in this new process and he isn’t going to give up the information easily,” Arthur had summarized. “As we need Emilija to be able to question him, we obviously can’t go for a hidden object extraction.”
“Wife? Family? Mother?” Eames had asked and Emilija had blanched as if he was suggesting actually hunting down and exterminating the mark’s family.
“No family,” Arthur had replied. “His mother is still alive, but has been institutionalized for the last three years with Alzheimer’s.”
“How about …” Eames mused, “shaking his loyalty to the firm? If we could set up a scenario where he becomes disenchanted with the firm enough to take his formula with him to a competitor? He’d be retaining his own personal stake in the material and we might be able to actually build on his own sense of ownership. If he was sufficiently ticked off with MelPharm, enough to want to leave in a big old huff, he’d take his secret with him and use it to secure himself a comparably high-status role with a competitor. He’s personally ambitious?”
“Well, not markedly,” replied Arthur frowning. “Typical lab nerd really. His loyalty is to the project, to his intellectual curiosity. He doesn’t want to set up a new research base from scratch when the personnel and equipment he has at MelPharm are all to his exact specifications.”
“Ok then, if the project were threatened from within MelPharm, some suggestion it was to be side-lined, pulled or even just back-burnered for strategic competitive advantage, might he not want to continue elsewhere, rather than see his pet project shelved?” Eames continued.
“He might … Dom?” Arthur prodded.
“Yeah, I guess that is a potential angle. We’d need a lot of control though, maybe even a second forger, if we are going to have to steer through a number of MelPharm personnel …” said Dom, thinking aloud.
Once it had been agreed that the disgruntled employee route was worth pursuing, at least initially, they started work. Eames got himself into MelPharm as an industry journalist, in order to get to know the Michelet’s chief lab assistant, who, it was decided, would be best-placed to influence Michelet’s response to the threat to his project. A second forger, Theresa, had been brought in to cover the managing director of Michelet’s section, whom Arthur had identified as the individual within the organisation with ultimate control over Michelet’s project. Eames-as-Arno would introduce Michelet to his girlfriend, Emilija, who worked for the rival company and who would be able to assist in the transition of the project.
With the addition of Theresa to the team, the working environment disintegrated still further. Emilija was deeply unhappy with her involvement with the whole thing and though she dare not actually withdraw, she was fretfully anxious and tearful by turns. Theresa was a pathologically self-absorbed young woman, with the concentration span of a two-year-old when it came to elements of the job that did not immediately revolve around her role. She would sit in planning sessions gazing up at the ceiling, revolving from side to side in her chair and fiddling with her split-ends. She seemed to make Emilija unaccountably emotional and Arthur furious. Dom had woken up to the fact that the job was on the verge of floundering badly and had roused himself to take control of affairs, which had helped slightly.
Arthur’s frustration with how things were going, with Dom for letting things get in a state and with himself for not having been able to manage things in Dom’s place had given him an uncharacteristically short fuse. He had leapt to his feet yelling obscenities when Eames had crept up behind him and asked what cologne he wore whilst running his nose up the nape of Arthur’s neck, his breath stimulating all the little hairs there to stand up on end. This in turn had caused Emilija to run from the room in tears and Theresa to give vent to a long, put-upon sigh and head shake that Eames had feared might cause Arthur to jump on her and rend her limb from limb.
“I’m going out. For a coffee.” Arthur had said tightly, managing barely to rein in his temper. |
5bf9196ae0dd47c0801adf2ddf02c5d8 | ['d8fb94b983da4c7faff13f314b8aca3a'] | “If he reacts badly he can come back to Wakanda and continue his treatments. He has a sanctuary. If all he wanted was peace and safety he’d still be there. He was so excited for this trip, and not because of the medal. _You_ are important to him. You’re the person he trusts most in the world. But unless you tell him how you feel, you’ll always be lying to him. He’s not cured. There is no cure for what happened to him, just ways to move on from it. He will always have Wakanda, he may not always have the chance to be with you.”
“Yes he will,” Steve says quietly.
“Aaaw, that is the sweetest, saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Are you sure you haven’t told him because you think he can’t handle it? Or because you’re worried he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Can the answer be both?” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. When they were younger, Bucky really liked women. Steve is nearly certain that unlike Steve, Bucky _only_ liked women. There’s no reason to believe that’s changed. Steve definitely noticed him noticing Valkyrie earlier.
“Hey,” Bucky walks toward them. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to talk about someone behind their back, right in front of their face?”
“We weren’t talking about you,” Steve replies.
“Of course, we were,” Shuri says. “We were wondering if someone knew something about you that you didn’t, but it might be difficult for you to hear, would you want them to tell you?”
Steve reminds himself that murdering the heir to the throne of the most technologically advanced nation on the planet is suicidal. Besides he likes Shuri when she’s not actively trying to blow his world to pieces.
Bucky looks at them, his brows knit in confusion. “Oh god. Do I have a brain tumor?”
“Oh it’s much worse than that,” Shuri says with a smile.
She’s going to tell him. _No. No. No._ He has to stop her, but he’s lost the ability to make his mouth do the thing where the words happen.
“I’m afraid you’ve become a meme,” she says
“A what?”
“Look.” Shuri pulls out her Western-style phone and gives it a few taps. A GIF of Bucky appears on the screen. It’s from the airport that morning. It shows him spinning in the air and landing, his hair swishing over his shoulders like a shampoo commercial. Animated sparkles appear around his face and the word “EXTRA” flashes above him in rainbow letters.
“What the fuck?”
“You are hair goals.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Very good.” Shuri leaves to show the GIF to Peter and Ned.
“What were you really talking about? I know it wasn’t that mimi thing.”
“It was nothing.”
“Looked like something. Wait, I _don’t_ have a brain tumor, do I?”
“No.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t have a brain tumor.” But this conversation might give him one.
“Come on, Stevie, what—“ Bucky is interrupted by the sound of an air horn and the arrival of an Iron Man armor landing on the grass.
“Sorry, I’m needed over there.” Steve exhales and trots to STARK. The rest of the team follows suit.
“That’s right, assemble, my chickadees. It’s time once again to compete for the coveted crown of awesomeness!” STARK holds up a crown made of cardboard and aluminum foil.
Steve grins. He’s glad this goofy tradition has lived on even after its creator has passed.
“Not this again,” Doctor Strange groans.
Bruce sidles up next to Steve. “I’m getting my crown back,” he says.
“Good luck with that,” Steve pats him in the shoulder.
“A reminder, if you don’t live at the compound you’re competing for the crown and a reward of your choice—within reason. If you live here, you’re competing for the crown and to be exempt from cleaning the communal bathrooms for one rotation. If you choose not to compete this time you forfeit the right to compete in the next two challenges. Does everyone understand and agree to these terms?”
Everyone agrees. Tony had hit on the perfect way to motivate them to participate in his team-building exercises. They all knew Tony was lying about SHEILD not allowing them to hire a cleaning crew because of security concerns, but at least Tony was willing to take his own turn in the rotation. Though no one ever got a straight answer on why he couldn’t program one of his bots to do it.
“Right then, will the current champion please step forward?” Steve steps into the center of the circle to a chorus of exaggerated boos. “Rogers has won the last two challenges. If he wins a third consecutive challenge he will forever be exempt from cleaning the bathrooms. Are you going to let that happen?”
“Nooooo!” His teammates roar.
“Good. Should the champion be defeated, he gets an extra turn in the next rotation.”
“Since when?” Steve turns to STARK. “No one else got a double latrine duty.”
“No one else has won two challenges in a row. Okay, Avengers are you ready for your next randomly selected challenge? Will it be skill, talent, or knowledge?” STARK shakes a pillowcase.
“Please be anime trivia, please be anime trivia.” Peter bounces on his heels his fingers crossed.
“Hunger Games! Hunger Games!” Clint chants.
“Barton, you know I love your enthusiasm, but it’s never going to be Hunger Games. Okay Cap, pick.” STARK holds open the pillowcase. Steve reaches in. He’d gotten lucky with the last two challenges, swimming and knitting. Bruce had wiped the floor with him the time before that in the cupcake challenge. Not having to clean the bathrooms for over a year has been sweet. He looks at the slip of paper in his hand and grins.
“Foot race,” he reads.
“Are you serious?” Sam grouses. “Just hand him the damn crown!”
“Works for me,” Steve shrugs. | 2e12cc2e333d420998fb64665bde603d | ['d8fb94b983da4c7faff13f314b8aca3a'] | Shuri smiles, marking something on a clipboard. “Good, you’ve shaken off the stasis fog faster than most. Yes, this is a stasis chamber. The same one your friend Sargent Barnes used when he was in my care. I thought the familiarity would be good for you. I was sorry to hear he was gone. I liked him.”
“I liked your brother. I’m so sorry,” Steve says.
Shuri smiles sadly. “So am I. I’m also sorry that I didn’t look into your illness sooner. I’ve been distracted. Shut myself in the lab for days. I believed I could come up with a solution to the crisis on my own. I was wrong. I must confess I hadn’t spared you a thought until you were brought to me.”
“How did I get here?”
“A guest who recently arrived from space found you in a palace hall. You collapsed on him. Which is a bit odd since you were only minutes earlier confined to a hospital room half a mile away. Your friends were very concerned. Naturally, we consulted the footage from your room.”
“Footage? You were recording me?”
“You are a foreigner, created to be a weapon of war, by a country rather fond of wars. Of course, we recorded you. What we saw was unusual. Here, see for yourself.”
Shuri adjusts her beaded bracelets. A small 3D projection plays. Steve sees himself in the hospital bed. He’s talking to someone but there’s no one else there.
“Maybe, but it didn’t do any good,” he says. Then after a pause, he starts back, puts up his fists and shouts “No!” Then in the blink of an eye, he disappears.
“You teleported.”
“Teleported?”
“Moved from one location to another without covering the distance. Your friends say you couldn’t do that before. You were in bad shape by the time you got to me. Delirious, when you were conscious at all. You kept muttering that ‘they’ were in your blood. I took a sample and ran some tests. The same ones the doctors had done and some more extensive ones. And well, we found something. Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, and I think we figured out what is making you sick. We came up with a treatment plan.”
“Is that why I feel better? Did you cure me?”
“No. That’s a temporary byproduct of stasis. You were too weak to withstand the treatments. It was my idea to put you in the chamber as a short-term solution. To strengthen you up so we can begin treating you. However, just as we were prepping you to go in, you had another seizure. Your heart stopped.”
“I was dead?”
“For two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Apparently, Mr. Stark has defibrillator pads built into his armors, for just such emergencies. He revived you. Which, as I understand, was not what you wanted. I’ve only known him for a few hours but my impression is that he is a very brilliant man, with extremely poor impulse control.”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Steve chuckles.
“Dr. Banner was upset that he disregarded your wishes. Very upset.”
“I remember that part. But your lab was destroyed. How did you fix everything so quickly?”
“Let’s just say, I work with a lot of volatile substances. All my equipment is modular and responds to impact by breaking into components that I can put back together rather easily. It’s inconvenient but better than having to rebuild from scratch. I made your friends help. Once they’d gotten their tempers under control.”
“You said you know what’s wrong with me?”
“Yes, but I did promise not to tell you without your friends present. I think they want to make their cases. I could tell you anyway if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. I want to see them.”
“Okay. They’re in the holding cells. The Dora Milaje is keeping an eye on them, in case things get heated again. I’ll have Okoye bring them back. In the meantime, can I ask you something? Something personal?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Were you and the White Wolf more than friends?”
“I…uh, did he say something?”
“No, we mostly talked about what was done to him. Otherwise, he wasn’t very talkative, not even after he was well enough to live on his own. But the whole time he was here, I only saw him truly smile twice. Once when his favorite doe delivered a kid and again when you arrived in Wakanda. It’s really none of my business but I couldn’t help wondering.”
“Well, it’s complicated. I mean… We were… It was the Thirties and… Yes, we were more than friends. But we weren’t in a romantic relationship.”
“Did you want to be?”
Steve sighs. He doesn’t know how to answer. He’d been in love with Peggy. He honestly doesn’t understand how anyone with an inclination for women could fail to fall in love with Peggy Carter. But back then people were sometimes intimidated by an obviously competent and intelligent woman. They still were, he supposed. She had been the first person to believe him when he said he could be more. She took him at his word that he wasn’t just overcompensating for his size. He had loved her and wanted her and he knew that she wanted him. He was glad, truly, that she lived a long, full, life after he went into the ice. She’d had a brilliant career and a beautiful family with a good man whom she adored. Yet, sometimes the fact that he wasn’t that man, that they’d missed their opportunity, caused him physical pain. |
63b9c15806bf4b44bda669d7f17c29af | ['d90501f289b6416c916b3c487616b583'] |
of heartaches and heartbreaks
**Author's Note:**
> I hope this is not that bad because I really like the idea and I just had to let it out.
>
> Anyway, enjoy!
—B—
“You fucking like Deku!?”
“Uhh yeah,” Kirishima says scratching the back of his neck with blush rising on his cheeks. “I wanna tell him but... I don’t know how and I will probably piss in my pants if I actually tell him so I need your help bro.”
It breaks Bakugou’s heart, hearing his best friend or crush or whatever likes someone else, least of all Deku, the one person that gets on his fucking nerves the most. Well, that’s not entirely true since his relationship with Deku somehow improves, but maybe now, it’ll be back to the one like before but for a different fucking reason. But no joke, Kirishima telling him he likes Deku pains him, he can hear his heart clattering and then shattering to the floor that he just wants to stomp away and lock himself in his room. But this is his best friend, who looks really worried and nervous and cute and god he can’t possibly say no to that puppy eyes he’s giving him. He’ll just deal with the pang in his chest later.
“The fuck do you need from me then?” Bakugou says acting with his usual cool, hiding away the throbbing of his heart.
“Well, you’re his childhood friend so maybe you can help me?” Kirishima says still rubbing his neck shyly.
“You know we’re not friends anymore, dumbass.”
“Yeah but still, you know him the longest so maybe help me out a little? Like what does he like? Anything that you remember?”
“All I remember is he can’t do anything.”
“Bro.”
“Okay fine.”
He genuinely thinks of whatever may help the person he likes confess to someone else. Sad really, but he wants Kirishima to be happy, so he thinks of what Deku might actually like. Well, the bastard’s a nerd and he thinks anything someone does will make the idiot say _sugoi_ , always amazed even at stupidest things.
“Just be yourself and be manly, I guess. I’m sure he’ll find that amazing cause he’s a fucking nerd. And maybe bring him to an All Might café and confess there, we all know how much of an otaku he is.”
“You’re really giving me advice bro? Oh man, I’m about to cry.” Kirishima says patting his shoulder and putting his hand in his chest in a fake crying act. Cute what the fuck.
“I thought you want some or do you want me to just fucking throw your ass at Deku?!” He snaps, shrugging Kirishima’s hand away from his shoulder.
“Chill man, I really appreciate it. And yeah, haven’t thought of inviting him to an All Might café. Thanks.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“But man, how do I tell him? I get so nervous around him lately so I don’t know if I can speak if we’re alone. And man, what if he doesn’t like me back. I mean, it’s Midoriya! He’s actually one of the strongest in our class and man I don’t know if he’ll actually look at me that way. Ohh that’ll hurt a lot if he rejects me and it’ll probably be weird so maybe I shouldn’t tell him after all?” Kirishima says, doubt in his voice.
_If he doesn’t like you back, then you can like me instead. Fuck. No._
“I’ll punch his fucking face if he rejects you.”
“Seriously bro.”
“Tch. Just…don’t look down on yourself like that. You’re strong too, you know.” _And not just that, you’re fun and always beaming with energy and kind and beautiful. Fuck._ “And I thought you want to be manly, then don’t be a coward and just tell him. Whatever happens at least you told him, like a fucking man.”
“Oh man, yes it’s very unmanly of me if I won’t tell him. And bro, you always know how to encourage me. You’re amazing, thanks Bakugou.” Kirishima then hugs him, making him feel suffocated, his heart beating out of his chest.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.” He shoves him away, instantly missing the contact.
“Really, thanks a lot, bro.”
Bro. Yeah he’s just a bro.
When he’s back in his room, that’s when everything’s sinking in.
Fuck. He lost his chance with his best friend. He’s actually the coward here, not being able to tell what he feels despite him having a stupid crush on Kirishima for what feels like forever. He actually plans to confess after they graduate because he still needs to focus on hero training now but well, that’ll be too late since they’re just in second year and his best friend is already into Deku. He’s too dumb to think that Kirishima won’t fall for someone else until that time. He brought this upon himself so all he can do is die slowly in pain. He’s so angry at himself he wants to punch his own face. He’s wallowing in pain and scowling at his ceiling when his phone suddenly beeps.
**From: Shitty Hair**
Bro, got me 2 discount coupons for an AM cafe courtesy of Kami, I’ll tell Midoriya yall can’t come so I’ll ask him instead cause he’s the only one I know who likes AM that much :)
**To: Shitty Hair**
Why dafuq r u telling me this?
**From: Shitty Hair**
Just want u 2 know since thats ur idea
**To: Shitty Hair**
I dont want to fucking know abt ur lovelyf shitty hair, next thing i know ur telling me u had sex
**From: Shitty Hair**
Hey dont mention something like that!!! And im not even confessing yet!!! | 884cb381e278452ab99ae53d259203a1 | ['d90501f289b6416c916b3c487616b583'] | They end up planning on how Kirishima will say sorry to Deku. Bakugou’s glad they knock some sense into Kirishima who always had his moment doubting himself like that. He knows how Kirishima and Deku are into each other, he had seen it, even got hurt because of it, and he’s sure this is just a minor setback for the two of them and they can still fix it because as Todoroki says before, they’re meant for each other. And Bakugou actually roots for them because he knows how happy his best friend is whenever he’s with Deku, though he’ll never admit that to them.
So the plan is to call Deku to go to Kirishima’s room which they designed with too many sappy shits, too sweet for Bakugou’s liking. But that’s what Kirishima thought and he’s just there to help, so he can’t complain. And honestly, the two of them are always too sweet with each other so maybe Deku will actually like what they prepared.
When the room is set up, he volunteers to fetch Deku, also to see Todoroki because what the fuck, the bastard didn’t even bother to send him a message.
He knocks at Deku’s door, already expecting Todoroki to answer and open it but he didn’t expect the half n half to look at him coldly.
“What do you need, Bakugou?” Todoroki says not opening the door completely.
So back to Bakugou and not even gonna talk about last night huh. Well, they never have that _talk_ so what is he even expecting. Two can play at that game though, if Todoroki’s gonna act like it’s nothing then fine.
“Where’s Deku, I need to talk to him.”
“Why?” Todoroki says, voice also cold.
“Just fucking move, Todoroki.” He says, moving past him to enter the room. He sees Deku hunched in bed, a mess like Kirishima. “Deku, follow me.”
“What’s this, Bakugou?” Todoroki asks behind him
“Kirishima wants to talk to him.” He says turning around to look at Todoroki.
“Bullshit. If he wants to talk then why didn’t he come here instead?”
Bakugou’s surprised to see Todoroki like that, eyes cold and infuriating, something Bakugou never saw since first year before the sports festival.
He ignores him, turning to Deku instead. “Deku, you coming or what?”
“Midoriya, if he really wants to talk to you, then he should go here himself. You should leave and tell him that, Bakugou.” Todoroki says still looking at him like he’s at fault here.
“What the fuck are you doing Todoroki? Are you Deku’s mother or some shit?” Bakugou’s irritation reached its highest level now with how Todoroki is treating him when he had done nothing wrong and with how overprotective Todoroki’s acting towards Deku. He ignores the pain starting to build in his chest, he’s not fucking jealous, he’s just furious with how Todoroki is making this hard for them. “You don’t fucking understand what got into Kirishima, so don’t fucking act like you know shit.”
“I do know he hurt Midoriya! And that’s enough reason to doubt him. Midoriya said Kirishima’s reasons and I don’t get it because aren’t we all graduating soon? He’s not the only one getting anxious over that, so what right does he have to use that as a reason to hurt Midoriya!?” Todoroki rages making Bakugou even more furious.
“You don’t fucking know Kirishima! And Deku’s not the only one hurting because of this shit! And why the fuck are you meddling in the first place? Just let me get Deku and you stay out of this!” He shouts back, not really getting why Todoroki is so angry over this. He knows they’re best fucking friends but why is Todoroki acting like he doesn’t want Kirishima and Deku to work things out.
Then something in his brain snaps. Ohh, of course. Of fucking course.
“Guys, you don’t have to fight, please. I think I’ll go talk to him. I get what you mean Todoroki and I really appreciate you worrying for me but I like to give him another chance. I do love him, so I don’t want to let this chance slip.” Deku says standing up from the bed.
“…I get it Midoriya. I’m sorry I think I overreacted.”
“No, no don’t apologize! I know you’re just worried. And please you two, don’t fight because of this.”
“Tch. Just fucking go to Kirishima’s room, he’s there.” Bakugou says, so done with all this bullshit as he left the room first, not really minding what look Todoroki is giving him. The bastard.
He informs Kirishima that Deku will come soon then he goes to his room and slams the door close, still frustrated with what happened. He realizes tears are already falling from his eyes. He’s so angry, fisting his hair and then letting out a loud groan. He’s angry, but mostly at himself, for thinking this time he has a chance which turns out, he still doesn’t. He’s fucking stupid for thinking Todoroki likes him back and now here he is, going through the same shit the second time around. Fucking unrequited bullshit again and it hurts more because he already puts his heart on the line. He already assumed and expected but too bad, it’s just in his fucking head because it’s fucking obvious Todoroki is still hung up on Deku. Yeah, they did things and shit but fuck he doesn’t know what to think of all that when he saw with his own eyes how angry Todoroki is when Deku got hurt, how Todoroki treated him when it’s about Deku. How fucking stupid of him to assume there’s an unspoken shit between them. |
7c847015fca449aca7d458078330b723 | ['d92b6c323fef482cad6557071f28cb78'] | Happy
**Author's Note:**
> Hello!!~
> A few thing before you start:
> – English is not my native language so, if you see any mistake, please, tell me.
> – I want to thank Rally and Laura for being my betas <3
> – I'm the worst when it comes to titles.
> – I didn't have much time to write this, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Yuuri woke up to the smell of coffee. He didn’t open his eyes at first, thinking it was still a dream. He was always the first one to get up and prepare breakfast so, why would be the smell of coffee near him otherwise?
But it wasn’t a dream, he realized after a few seconds, and blinked slowly, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The curtains were still closed, but the lamp at Victor’s bedside table was on. He could see him on his side of the bed.
“ _ Ohayou, Yuuri _ .” singing tone on his voice.
“ _ Dobroye utro… _ ”
They did that sometimes as a way to learn the other’s language, they would say some phrases in Japanese and Russian. It was a slow progress, but progress anyway. For the rest of the time, English was still their main language.
“What time is it?” Yuuri asked, getting on his elbows, suddenly aware that they had to compete that day, and not any competition, the Grand Prix Final again. Sometimes he still wondered how he had gotten there a third time, but he did know how. The answer was palming his hip to bring him back again.
“It’s okay, we still have time.” Victor murmured, a gentle smile on his face.
“Then… Why are you awake?”
Victor frowned his eyebrows, not really offended and leaned in until he reached his lips.
“Happy Anniversary.” he said against them after the kiss.
“Eh? What anniversary?”
“Whose do you think?” he asked caressing his collarbone.
Yuuri, still sleepy had to use some more seconds to think. It was December, what had happened last December?… Grand Prix again… In Barcelona… Ah… That. he felt his face heating up . Victor stopped the trail of kisses from his lips to his neck to chuckle.
“I ordered breakfast.” he said, his lips already on his shoulder. “Asked for a tray so we don’t have to move from the bed.”
Yuuri snorted, moving one of his hands to Victor’s nape, his fingers playing mindlessly with his locks.
“What are you planing?”
“I wish! We don’t have so much time now…” Victor pouted. “But I wanted to do something special.”
Yuuri smiled.
“Okay, what have you prepared?”
Victor got up, went to Yuuri’s bedside table and took the tray Yuuri just realized was there. Two mugs of coffee, two glasses of juice, two plates and a small vase with a rose in it.
“Just breakfast, actually.” he sounded a bit down .
“It’s okay.” Yuuri said, caressing Victor’s arm for a second while he put the tray over his thighs. Little legs on it to help having it steady.
Victor then went to the other side of the bed to sit on his side, next to Yuuri.
They started eating in silence, so close to him that their sides were touching. One of his hands wouldn’t stop moving until Yuuri entwined their fingers, ignoring the rush of heat that went to his face.
“I like the touch of the rose.” he said after he swallowed a bite.
Victor snorted.
“You don’t.”
“Well, okay…” he sighed. “ But you do.”
“What’s up with you today? Is this a new way of showing your nervousness?”
The truth was that he was nervous, more than he wanted to admit at that moment. Even though he thought Victor knew exactly how nervous he could get at this point. But this wasn’t about him.
He had never payed much attention to anniversaries, people always had to remind him of their birthdays (not Victor’s but, well…). Celestino even had to remind him some dates of competitions. But after a year with Victor he had realized that dates were important to him. Actually, he already knew that from his fan years because Victor had said it once in an interview. The thing was that he cared about them, he was happy celebrating something, and Yuuri loved seeing Victor happy.
“No. Just…” he shrugged, felt Victor’s thumb move on the back of his hand, maybe understanding his intentions. So he returned to his breakfast and took his mug, enjoying the taste of the coffee, different from the one in Russia.
“Oh! I forgot.” Victor looked confused at him. He prepared himself with a little inhale” Happy Anniversary.”
Victor blinked. A second later he started grinning, the smile all over his face and his eyes glowing. The wave of embarrassment Yuuri was feeling even then was totally worth it, and he knew the feeling in his stomach wasn’t nerves anymore.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks a lot for reading!!
> If you liked it, remember kudos and comments always make authors happy :) | 3b52ab0495e8427f8cae7cbc11b4e548 | ['d92b6c323fef482cad6557071f28cb78'] |
At night
**Author's Note:**
> Hi!! This is my first attempt of writing something in English. There's so few fanfiction about this ship that I wanted to do what I could, but if you find something is incorrect, please tell me :)
> Thanks a lot to Rally and Laura for being my beta :3
Everybody knew where the Detective Agency was, not just Port Mafia but everybody in Yokohama. Akutagawa was even sure that if people payed a bit of attention they would find out where they usually went to eat and drink (that cafe at the bottom of their building) and where they lived. So he didn't know why they were still alive. Port Mafia weren't their only enemy, but not even the Mafia would attack the Agency and Akutagawa didn't know why. They had not only ruined a lot of their plans but also had stolen one of their bosses, Osamu Dazai.
He was a traitor and was still alive, so Akutagawa guessed Dazai had come to some agreement with Ogai. He didn't like it anyway. You can't leave the Mafia, he was told a thousand times when they were training him. And Dazai, one of the best in the Mafia, get away with it? Every time the Agency ruined one of their missions Akutagawa would return home thinking that. Or every time one of their missions wasn't as good as expected he would return home thinking that. Or every time he had a mission. Or every day.
Sometimes he would start walking without noticing towards the Agency, without noticing it and only realizing it when he arrived to their door. But that day he didn't arrive to the Agency, he arrived at Dazai's house.
He thought about going back home, but he could finish everything right that moment. Dazai was their enemy now, he knew how the Mafia thought so he will always be able to stop them. It would be better if he was dead.
Akutagawa kept thinking about it with every step he took. Killing Dazai would be better for everybody, for the Mafia, for him. He would finally stop feeling miserable and longing for a person that didn't care about him. He inhaled heavily, felt his chest tight but forced himself not to think about the meaning of the feeling, he just let the urgency of killing Dazai invade his mind.
He put his hand on the door. He thought about using his powers to break in and finish Dazai in a second. But he couldn't really use them against Dazai, and he knew he would enjoy it more if he did it with his own hands.
He did use Rashomon to force the lock and opened the door slowly. The light was off but something told Akutagawa Dazai was there.
"Oh well, my pupil is here."
Akutagawa turned round. Dazai was sitting on a worn-off couch, some empty bottles at his feet. It wasn't a usual image for Akutagawa to see.
"I knew this day would come, eventually. How many times have you sneaked around the Agency’s building? Are you going to kill me or..." the corners of his lips lifted a little "are you going to beg I come back to Port Mafia?"
Akutagawa tensed his jaw . He was there to kill him, he reminded himself. But he didn't say it out loud. He took a few steps towards him, trying to appear threatening.
"Beg for me to come back it is, then." the smile in Dazai's face showed his teeth and Akutagawa felt a wave of rage towards him. He could feel Rashomon ready to attack, but he controlled himself. Using Rashomon against Dazai was one of those things that made the other one feel superior.
"Come here." Dazai patted the seat beside him.
Akutagawa's leg moved before he realized it. But he didn't seat on the couch, he bent his knees and sat down on the floor next to him instead. Akutagawa saw Dazai's eyes shine for a second.
"Can't forget the old habits, can you?" he waited for an answer but just got Akutagawa staring at him with anger." Well then, start begging."
"I'm n ot here to beg, I'm here to kill you."
Dazai gave him a skeptical con temptuous look.
"Yes, I can see that."
He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, took Akutagawa by the neck and moved him closer. Akutagawa parted his lips, he could feel the sweet heat escaping Dazai's mouth.
"Do it then." Dazai said.
Akutagawa clenched his fists by his thighs, he just had to raise one and punch Dazai, that would be the beginning. It would leave Dazai confused and he could keep hitting him until he end. However he just stood there staring at Dazai's eyes and feeling his breath against him, goosebumps all over his body.
Dazai waited two more seconds and made a sound of disappointmentat the same time he released Akutagawa's clothes.
"What a surprise" he said with a bored tone and lied back on the couch.
Akutagawa swallowed, the familiar feeling of letting Dazai down in him. He looked up. Dazai was examining one of his bottles to see if it still had some liquor left. He took a drink and only a few drops fell, one of them slid down his lower lip and Akutagawa’s eyes continued its journey down his chin until it was hidden in his collar. Dazai wiped it away with a distracted hand and his eyes dropped back to him with indifference. He sighed.
"Since you came here," he spread his legs. " do the only thing you have a little idea of.”
Akutagawa licked his lips. He would kill him afterwards, he promised to himself. Dazai’s smile told him that he could read what he was thinking and was laughing at it.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading <3
> If you like this ship, please consider taking part in the dazakuweek I'm organizing. Don't now exactly the date or the content yet, but I really wanted a week about them. So you can follow me on LINK or the LINK
> for updates.
> Have a nice day^^ |
7428b168fa3547f8ac61aa475b13e45e | ['d94c5f8aaaa84022b4fdc95311365c0a'] | III.
"But we _need_ you," Stiles says. "Don't you get it? The Alpha pack is not on our side. And the one thing we could definitely use is--"
Derek's eyes glow blue. "An Alpha."
Stiles blinks. Derek offers no other explanation. Cora is sitting on the bed, still deathly pale, staring at her knees. Peter's sitting on the spiral staircase, smirking. Or maybe even trying not to smirk, but Stiles can still see it.
"It was the only way," Cora says. Her voice is scratchy, broken, guilty.
Stiles looks between Derek and Peter. "Was it?"
Derek's eyes go back to normal. "I can't help you."
"What about Deaton? Maybe he could have--"
Peter shoots up. There's something new in his voice when he says, with authority, "Deaton wasn't available, was he? You took care of your own, while we took care of _our_ own." Stiles can see the anger behind the steely grimace. "You need to leave now, Stiles."
Stiles is not ready to leave. Not now when things are beginning to make sense. He stares Peter down. "Is that what you did? You took care of your own? See, that's funny coming from a guy who ran and left his entire family to burn to death. Didn't take care of them, then, did you?"
Peter's reaction is instantaneous. He lunges, growling. He nearly reaches Stiles before he manages to stop himself. It's too late, though. His eyes are glowing red.
"Right," Stiles says, nodding to himself. He turns to leave but not before glancing at Derek's and Cora's shocked faces. "It was the only way, I'm sure. Guess now you either help who needs helping, or... " He grimaces at Peter. "Or you stay here with your own."
After he closes the door, he can only hope Cora and Derek will follow. | 1a3c088b6c4a4ecd832834900cc13406 | ['d94c5f8aaaa84022b4fdc95311365c0a'] | I.
His mom shows up in his room as silently as any ghost would. Scott nearly drops his phone. She's not a ghost, though; she's just bruised and tired. But alive. Scott feels his lips stretching into a smile, but they freeze half-way when she raises her arm, displaying a broken watch in her hand.
Right. He should have known she'll notice it right away.
"Please," she says and closes her eyes. "Please tell me this is the result of werewolf strength and emotional trauma caused by my disappearance. Because otherwise, I just... I just can't figure out why you would take my watch and break it. And then I'd have to scream at you and lecture like a parent, and I just don't have the energy for that right now. So please, please, Scott, just tell--"
"Mom!"
Fortunately, that stops her and she falls silent. She looks miserable, but Scott doubts the broken watch is the reason. It's just one of many bad things that happened since...
"I'm sorry," he says. "I was upset. It was an accident."
She presses her lips together and nods. For a moment, it looks like she might cry. But then she smiles. "Never liked it that much anyway." She looks around and sees the trash can next to Scott's desk. She aims and scores. A perfect shot.
"Mom!" Scott takes a steps forward. "We can fix it."
"Nah." She shakes her head. "Not that." She moves towards the doorway with a wry smile. "But next time I get kidnapped, please don't go anywhere near grandma's china. She'd have a heart attack."
She leaves before Scott has a chance to say anything. There's plenty he could say. Like, "I won't let you get kidnapped again." Or, "Sure, we can fix the watch and all that it ever meant to you."
Lies, all of it.
Or he could tell her something that's actually true. Like, "He's back in town." But she already has plenty to keep her awake tonight.
Scott walks to the trash and digs out the watch.
One day, she might want it back. |
27d69e19c5de4f88966226a308d195a4 | ['d94f766d03a34e7faf0e8d6dfa0ee19f'] | Swiftshock let out a short laugh, but it came out as more of a half-hearted sob. "I keep telling myself that, but it doesn't get any better. It doesn't keep the nightmares away.."
A heavy silence passed between them as they both watched the sky. The soft hum of her companion's venting seemed so loud in the silence. She hadn't realized it, but Blaster had grown accustomed to the sound, able to notice the most subtle shifts that were unique to her. It was strange, she thought, when your enemy was more familiar than your allies.
The feeling of something warm pressing against her drew her from her thoughts and she looked down at the black and green seeker, who had laid her helm in her lap. "What are you-…get off, Swiftshock." She gave her back a nudge, trying to move the seeker off, but she didn't budge. "Swiftshock, off."
"Tell me about Vos..?" Swiftshock mumbled softly, still watching the stars. Blaster stilled, staring at her before relenting with a sigh and turning back to the sky.
"Vos was beautiful.." She said softly. She knew that Swiftshock had grown up on a colony away from Cybertron, joining the war long after the fall of the city. In fact, Blaster had been the first seeker Swiftshock had seen when they first met so many years ago. "The night sky was always clear like this. You could see every star within billions of miles on most nights. And you could always hear the beautiful sounds of the Crystal Gardens, the way the wind hit them just right, it sounded like singing."
She described the city in detail, at least, all she could remember. After a few hours, she realized Swiftshock had drifted into recharge at some point, servos curled under her chin. She gazed down at the seeker in silence, her field stretching out slowly to lace with the sleeping femme's with a gentle comfort, and she saw her visibly relax. A half-hearted growl left her throat and she let out a dry chuckle, shaking her helm. "Stupid little Autobot...." What kind of Autobot fell asleep in the presence of the enemy? That was a foolish thing to do. Why trust her that much?
She brushed a gentle digit across one of the larger welds that marred her wings, a sadness creeping into her spark. It wasn't fair that someone this young had suffered so greatly. She should've been focused on some cute young bot, or studying in the Great Halls, not wondering if she would survive the next day. She should've grown up with a family, in the safety of Vos.
As she watched a lone meteor pass overhead, she resigned herself to what she knew to be true. She would always answer those comms, no matter the time. Why did she keep coming back? She came back because deep down, she was just as lonely as this femme. Because she too found herself asking 'why?' at times.
Because at some point, this femme, this…Autobot…had become more than a target on the battlefield. She had become a friend.
And everyone needed at least one friend sometimes. | 8cb75d05a33540ec931e3be8f7b5aeab | ['d94f766d03a34e7faf0e8d6dfa0ee19f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I have no excuse.
"So....what is it?"
It was Skywarp who finally broke the silence in the room. All optics turned to him and he shrugged. "I mean, it hasn't blown up in our faces, so I assume it's not a bomb, right?"
The attention turned back to the object in question, whih was sitting on the table in the main briefing room. It was roughly the size of an energon cube, almost perfectly round and completely smooth. The Command Trine had come across it while out on a joyride, an unauthorized one at that. But everyone was too distracted with the strange object to worry about punishment.
Now you may be thinking, 'What's so interesting about a giant metal ball?'. The thing is, Starscream swore it was alive. He was so sure, in fact, that everyone was inclined to believe him. That is how almost the entire Decepticon Command came to be standing around the table and watching this ball of metal for the past hour.
"Try poking it again." It was Ramjet who spoke up this time, and Starscream growled.
"Absolutely not! You might damage it!"
Skywarp reached out, tapping his claw against the metal surface several times. Starscream wheeled on him, slapping the side of his helm. "What did i just say?"
Whatever retort Skywarp would've made was forgotten as the device began beeping. Several pairs of red optics grew wide before the room erupted in chaos, everyone desperate to get out before the device exploded in their faces. The sounds of the frantic screaming grabbed the attention of Megatron as he walked past, and he stepped into the room, Blaster at his side.
He took a look around at his cowering soldiers, then at the strange object on the table. His voice was eerily calm as he spoke. "Soundwave, what is this thing and why is it here?"
The communications officer pulled himself up from the mess of limbs and brushed himself off before responding. "Object: of unknown origin. Contents: unknown. Brought in by Starscream."
By now everyone realized it wasn't going to explode, and had gathered around the table once again. "Whatever it is, Lord Megatron, it's alive." Thundercracker spoke up, slapping Skywarp's servo away from it again. "It moved on its own when we found it."
Blaster stepped closer to the table, reaching out and brushing her servo against the smooth surface. "It's warm...."
"Whatever it is, get rid of it." Megatron growled. "That insisant beeping is giving me a processor ache!"
Blaster snapped her servo back as the object shifted, and all attention was turned to it as it rocked slightly. Then it grew still.
Several seekers leaped away when something inside let out an audial piercing shriek before going silent again. Thin white lines began working their way around the middle and the segregated pieces began to lift away with a sharp hiss.
"Object: in stasis?" Soundwave spoke up, but his observation was forgotten as several mechs gasped at what was inside.
A tiny grey form squirmed at the sudden rush of cold, tiny servos scrunching up near its face as it let out a pitiful whine. It was a sparkling, a very young one at that. The outer layer of armor had yet to finish developing, and its optics had yet to open. The spark was clearly visible inside its little chest. The little creature let out another small wail as it squirmed, clearly unhappy to be exposed to the outside world.
Megatron gave a disgusted snarl and opened his intake, ready to tell Soundwave to squash the thing and be rid of it. But he grew silent when Starscream reached down with a gentleness the warlord had never seen the SiC use and lifted the grey mass out of the pod and cradled it against his spark. The cries
immediately ceased as the swarm of seekers crowded around in a flurry of quiet chirping and twitching wings. He watched with a mix of disgust and fascination at the display until a servo on his arm grabbed his attention.
He looked down, and the bright purple optics of his charge stared back up at him. "Sire....please...?" The unspoken question was easily recognized, and it only took one look at those bright, purple optics, the very same optics that he had once gazed into on the ruins of an abandoned battlefield and known he would do anything to keep her safe, and he knew he had no choice. He sighed and waved her off.
"Fine. You may keep it." He growled at his SiC, pretending he didn't notice the sudden rush of joy he felt from every field in the room. "But if it makes too much noise I want it thrown into the ocean."
Blaster smiled widely and joined the crowd of seekers, whom had all but forgotten their leader as they tried to get a glimpse of the newest addition to their ranks. Megatron sighed, shaking his head. Imagine what the Autobots would think, seeing the mighty Decepticon air fleet acting so foolishly.
"Query: Megatron is sure of this course of action?" Soundwave's monotone voice pulled his attention away, and he met the mech's gaze. He looked back up at the group before shaking his helm.
"It probably won't last through the night anyways." He stated, his tone seemingly uncaring. But Soundwave had been by his side for millennia. He knew better.
"Fact: sparkling reminds Megatron of another little one many years ago."
The warlord looked down at his old friend, then back up to the purple seeker who now held the squirming grey form. A small smile creased the edges of his intake before he turned and walked away.
"Perhaps..."
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Boredom strikes hard, so here's the second chapter already. |
c56ac8161f264ff5af6c64ab87cfac8d | ['d96cbe08464645309b5b81a7616a2a8a'] | Penny walked away so I followed her with a sigh. My head felt a million times better but I had been willing to milk that head rub for as long as I could get it. She went behind the large circular desk where the master librarian usually sat. We saw less and less of him since Penny took such good care of the books. I watched as she fiddled under the desk for what seemed forever.
"Did you loose it?"
She snapped a glare at me. "No. I hid it so no one would see it."
That definitely peaked my curiosity. "Penny, are you giving me something illegal?"
"Not exactly." She stood and held out a flat package wrapped in paper and tied with a string. Penny looked at me with pensive excitement. This felt a lot more serious than a little gift.
I unwrapped the paper and gasped when it fell off. "Penny...how...where...?"
"I found it in a book during some of my studies. It looked as if it had been there a while. I thought you would want it."
"Penny...I can't believe..." Tears pricked my eyes. Lying in my hands was a small portrait of my mother. After her death father had all her portraits burned. He said it hurt too much to see her.
She looked young and uncertain but beautiful. I looked like her. I was all her down to our coloring and curling yellow hair and face shape. I hadn't seen her face since I was little. "Thank you, Penny," I said softly, giving into the tears.
"Happy birthday, Simon."
BAZ
I avoided the room for as long as possible. I was on edge all day. Anytime I heard someone coming I was equally terrified and exhilarated then equally relieved and crushed when it wasn't Simon. His kiss had completely wrecked me. All the coldness I had built up, all my practiced expressions and unfeeling lines, pulverized. It almost made me mad enough to find Simon and shake him to pieces. I'd avoided feeling like this for years. My feelings had been in perfect control despite all my mad daydreams, but one single, drunk kiss and I'd lost my mind.
Finally, it was so late the guards were starting to squint suspiciously each time they caught me so I headed for our room. I took a final breath and tried to collect myself before pushing the door open.
Simon yanked his night shirt down and hid his face the moment he heard me but not before I saw his back. It was red with raised, puffy skin. I gaped, shocked, before anger bubbled up.
"Who did that? Who hurt you?"
Simon sniffed and sent me a red eyed glare. "Jealous someone beat you to it," he snapped.
I stepped closer, clenching my fists. "Who fucking hurt you?" I growled.
Surprise tightened his face but I saw it crumbling into pain.
"Take your shirt off and lie on the bed. Those marks need some healing magic."
His eyes widened. "Are you going to heal them?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Merlin, because it looks like they might be bleeding! Do you want them to get infected?"
He squinted. "Why do you care?"
I growled and pushed my fingers through my hair. "Listen, I know I'm an asshole but I'm not all asshole. Do you want me to fix your back or not?"
He stared then sighed. "Fine." He slipped carefully out of his shirt and lay across his bed. He was hurt but I couldn’t resist admiring the shape of him. He was beautiful.
I winced as I examined his wounds. They were really bad. Some were just welts but other looked torn, leaving thin lines of blood. Gently, I brushed my fingers over them as I began pushing warm healing magic into his back. Simon whimpered but kept still.
"Who hurt you?" I asked again, softer this time. "Tell me, Simon. Please."
"My father." He began to sob into his pillows. "He was furious about last night. I was supposed to make a good impression on Agatha but I got drunk and botched it all up. Apparently, I insulted her and her father left upset. I hate being this way. Why am I so bad at everything? Why can't I do anything right?" Simon tangled his fingers in his thick hair and pulled at it. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"Stop. Don't hurt yourself more."
He pulled from me and sat up, wincing in pain. "Why do you care? You've never cared." Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "You're right about everything. I'm just a big joke. I'm clumsy and stupid!"
"Stop!" Without thinking, I reached for him and pulled him into me. This was the stupidest thing I'd ever done but I didn't want to see him like this. I ached inside knowing it was me who did this. I hurt him.
Simon sucked in a shuddering breath and froze against me. I winced as I went on, "I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean them. I just...it's me that...I'm the one that always says the wrong thing. I'm...sorry."
SIMON
Baz just apologized. And he was hugging me. And he'd called me Simon. I blinked. What was happening?
"I mean it, Simon. I'm always so...mad, and I take it out on you because...I don't know...I really am an asshole."
"You...just apologized."
"Yes I did, alright. Will you not make this harder than it needs to be." | ebfd2560bed14e4983d6c08ec00a3960 | ['d96cbe08464645309b5b81a7616a2a8a'] | Simon hummed his approval and I knew I wasn’t going to last long. He pulled back, sucking, his tongue flicking against the tip and I whimpered.
“Simon. I’m gonna cum. Nnng.”
He sat up, his hand pumping my cock, and watched with wide eyes. I arched my back into the blissful pain and exploded. Everything dissolved into white.
SIMON
Baz was flushed red from his neck to his cock. His hair was a mess against my bed and his back arched beautifully as he came, spraying my hand and his smooth belly. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
My own aching cock finally gave in at the sight and I came in my pants. I was too enthralled to be embarrassed.
I pumped Baz’s cock till he grabbed my wrist with a whimper. He fell back, breathing hard.
“Holy fucking shit!” He said. “Where the hell did that come from?”
I blushed. “I got excited. Sorry.”
Baz grinned at me. “I’m not complaining, highness.”
I frowned and he laughed. “You need a hand finishing?”
I blushed more and shook my head.
“Did you already...?”
I nodded. He laughed again and pulled me down beside him.
“Take your pants off, Simon.”
Blushing hard, I kicked them off, using them to wipe us both clean before throwing them to the floor.
After laying in silence, Baz chuckled. “That was amazing. Better than I imagined.”
“You’ve thought about this?”
“So many times.”
“Have you....have you done this before?”
He shook his head. “Have you?”
“No. I never wanted to...until now.”
After a pause Baz softly said, “I’ve only ever wanted to with you.”
I smiled at him and sat up. He perked up, a worried look on his face.
“Are you leaving?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not.”
He lay back smiling. “Good because I haven’t gotten to touch you yet.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I like to think Simon would be the more dominant one during sex. He’s more use to letting his instincts take over and Baz is use to hiding. So I’ve always thought that when Simon gets turned on he just goes for it and is embarrassed later but Baz loves it cuz then he doesn’t have to feel insecure about asking for what he wants. Idk. Just my thoughts that I used in this au.
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Simon and Baz take their relationship further. It’s a drawn out version of their first time.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry this took so long. I got distracted writing other stuff.
BAZ
“Baz. Oh my - ah! Nnnnn.”
Simon’s fingers clenched my hips. I sat straddled over him, our cocks making delicious friction. Simon’s face was red and his mouth open. I don’t think I’d ever get enough of his sounds.
“Feel good, Simon?” I smirked.
“Merlin yes! Fuck. Baz!”
I wrapped my hand around us both and chased our finish. Simon came first, his hips bucking up beneath me. I watched in awe as his cum covered my hand and his stomach. I threw my head back and followed with a moan.
I collapsed on his chest, not caring about the mess between us. We panted for a moment, willing our hearts to calm down. Simon’s fingers went to my hair and I nearly purred as he started stoking.
“Baz? How is this happening? I thought...I thought you hated me.”
“I’ve never hated you, Simon.” I kissed his neck to emphasize. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“...but you were...always so...”
I sat up to look him in the face. “Awful. Horrid. Absolutely dreadful,” I finished for him.”
“Well...yeah.”
“I didn’t want you to know how...how I felt. I was terrified of what would happen if you knew.”
“We could’ve been friends.”
I smiled sadly and shook my head. “I could never be only friends with you.”
Simon rolled us over and kissed me. I sighed happily.
“We could’ve been like this.”
I reached around him and traced his spine with my fingertips. He shivered.
“I never believed this would happen.”
“Oh it’s happening.”
I sniggered but he reached to cup my face and kissed me again. It was like the kiss from this morning, tender but hungry. I melted. I was so damn in love with this boy.
SIMON
I felt so good. From my ears to my fingertips to my toes I tingled deliciously. I still craved Baz. I needed more and more of him. I started to rub against him and he moaned against my lips.
“Simon, I want more,” he begged.
I pressed in harder.
“No. I want...I want you inside me.”
I pushed up to look in his face. “Can we do that?”
He nodded. “If you want to.”
I kissed him again. “Anything. Everything.”
He wiggled underneath me and pushed me away. I frowned. “What? Where are you going?”
“I need to get something.”
I watched his naked self walk to his side of the room. He was so beautiful. It was kind of driving me crazy. He bent to get something, wiggling his ass. I groaned. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
He laughed and came back, holding a small container in his hands.
“What is it?”
He was blushing. “It’s a lubricant. It will help you ah to ah fit.”
I blushed as well. He knew a lot more about this than I did. I grabbed him and pulled him close.
“You’ll have to show me what to do.”
He placed a sweet kiss on my lips and nodded. Baz laid back on the bed.
“I’ll have to ah get myself ah ready. Y-you know so you um can fit.”
I nodded and then my jaw dropped as I watched him slick his fingers, raise his legs, and stick a finger in his asshole.
“Holy shit, Baz.”
BAZ |
04f22c2d0a3045ecbf9ff79d4aeb31a6 | ['d980e10f347d4d368790a7f89b918579'] | _Deep breaths_ , Phil reminds himself sternly. _Deep, slow breaths. You will not have a mental slash emotional breakdown in the middle of assembly in front of more than a hundred students because the man who broke your heart is up there on the stage._
Oh god. He’s got a workshop scheduled with him later that day. He’s going to be in a much more confined room with him for two whole hours. They’re going to be face to face.
Okay, now he’s definitely starting to panic.
Someone hands him a napkin. In his peripheral vision, a red-headed figure has appeared.
Phil mutters a word of thanks as he dabs his sticky hand quite futilely with the paper napkin.
“You okay there?” Her voice is hushed; the speech is still ongoing.
“Y-Yeah,” he clears his throat, blinking a few times before he dares look up at Esther. “I’m fine.”
She eyes him with concern. “You’ve gone quite pale. Even more than usual. Sure you’re not getting ill?”
Someone, somewhere close by, shushes them. Phil’s thankful for it because he has no idea how to respond.
In fact, part of his brain is already entertaining the idea of calling in sick and fleeing to the comfort of his home. Except – he can’t do that. His students need this workshop. What kind of precedent is he setting for them if he bails because, what, he can’t handle being in the same room as an ex for two hours?
He’s being ridiculous.
But he’s still momentarily relieved when the assembly ends and the students and teachers are dismissed.
* * *
Phil’s having the students read out a scene of the play they’re currently covering.
“Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not that I go with you?”
“By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the ma- what? – the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad rec- recompense for your love to lay any of them on you—”
The boy who has been reading is cut off by a knock. All students look up, eyes flitting from their books to the door and then to Phil.
Oh, god. Here it goes.
Phil clears his throat. “Thank you, Joe, we’ll stop there for now. – Come in.”
The door opens.
Dan sticks his head through.
“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
The students – eager for a disruption of their work – start giggling and whispering, some are even bold enough to respond, quite cheekily, “certainly not.”
Dan grins. And then he turns his head to the front.
There is an oddly cinematic moment when their eyes meet.
Time and Dan’s expression seem to freeze for a good moment. Phil’s heart stops beating. Or maybe it’s beating too fast to be noticeable.
His mouth is dry. It takes effort to separate his tongue from his gums, to crack his mouth open and force his vocal chords to form words that he hopes sound somewhat casual.
Time resumes.
“It’s no trouble,” he lies. “You’re right on time, I believe. Please, come in.”
Dan enters, closing the door behind himself. His face is doing a complicated thing, like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite remember how.
Phil can’t blame him. At least he was somewhat prepared for this situation. Dan had no warning at all.
Phil’s overcome by a desperate urge to know what he's thinking.
Finally, Dan speaks. “Thank you... Sir.”
Phil doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He should probably offer one to Dan, but he can’t bring himself to do that.
Luckily, Dan doesn’t seem to be expecting it; he’s got both his own hands shoved into his pockets.
“So,” he says, swaying somewhat awkwardly on the spot. “Shall I go right ahead?”
“Oh.” Phil steps aside, moving to lean against the windowsill and gesturing for Dan to take a seat at his desk. “Yes, make yourself at home.”
He glances at his students then for the first time to check if they’ve noticed anything, but it’s hard to tell. They’re busy putting away their books, excited already by the prospect of not having to discuss Shakespeare for the next two hours.
“Cool, okay. So I’ve brought you guys some worksheets for later but first I thought I could tell you a little more about why I’m here and like, my personal struggles with mental health. And if you have any questions, just – interrupt me at any point or ask later, however you want. Right. Let’s get started...”
* * *
“Any other questions before you’re going to lunch? Remember you’ve got my Young Minds email if you want to reach out about anything private.”
Maybe it’s the fact that everything’s gone so well so far that Phil’s not prepared for what happens next.
The group work’s been a success, Dan’s speech was well received, and his students seem to respond amazingly to the workshop in general. So when Christopher raises his hand, at first he’s positively surprised. The boy has not exactly seemed into it so far – as Phil had expected from one of his more difficult students – but maybe Dan’s managed to touch even his closed-off teenage heart.
“Yeah, you in the back.”
A foul smile tugs on Christopher’s mouth and he leans forward slightly.
It’s at that moment that Phil realises his mistake.
“So what’s the deal – are you gay?”
Silence.
Not even a whisper or a laugh.
Phil’s heart is beating at an irregular rhythm. This day is going to send him into cardiac arrest.
He should probably intervene.
Then again, Dan had explicitly allowed personal questions earlier when he told them about his own experience with mental illness...
Before Phil can make a decision, Dan clears his throat. | 93dbe6f72d574ff682110ecd3740d2eb | ['d980e10f347d4d368790a7f89b918579'] |
Come All Ye Faithful
The heat of the nearby fireplace licks Dan’s skin, glazing it with a sheen of sweat, and the carpet burns his back. It’s like all his nerves are on fire, and he yelps shamelessly as Phil shifts and rocks forward into him at another angle.
They’ve put on a Christmas play list that jingles faintly in the background and the snowstorm outside drums against their windows.
Phil has his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut while his mouth hangs open. The sight is unbearably erotic and Dan licks his dry lips, keeping his eyes on the silhouette above him although the brightness of the fire behind him is blinding.
“Phil,” he coos without much intention to say anything but his lover’s name.
He runs his hand up from Phil’s back into his hair, lacing his fingers through the sweaty strands of ebony. Phil makes a sound somewhere between hum and whimper as he tugs on it roughly.
“So good, baby.”
Phil moans softly, hands tightening around Dan’s upper arms, and his head drops onto Dan’s shoulder. His breath is almost as hot against Dan’s ear as the close fire, and the panting sound mixes alluringly with the crackle of the flames.
Dan can feel Phil’s pounding heartbeat against his own chest and his sweat-slick skin as he moves on top of him, hips jerking forward erratically. Without warning, he hits Dan’s sweet spot and Dan cries out, stars dancing in front of his eyes.
He makes an effort to lift his legs and wrap them tighter around Phil’s waist.
Phil exhales shakily against his neck and Dan shivers, feeling his lips move to the shell of his ear.
At first it’s just incoherent mumbling, but after a moment Dan starts to make out words.
“Oh, come…,“ Phil hums in a sort of inharmonious way, fingernails digging into Dan’s skin.
It takes him a minute until he gets what Phil’s doing.
The play list has apparently gone all the way from pop songs to religious carols, and between their panted breaths, Dan can hear a choir sing “Come All Ye Faithful“.
He gasps in realization.
“Joyful and tr-triumphant,” Phil croons, “oh my god, Dan – come and – fuck, behold him -”
He seems too breathless to continue, so he lets the choir take over.
“Born the king of angels…”
The shine of the fire draws a halo around the frame of Phil’s head. His pupils are blown wide, reflections of the flames flickering in them as they burn into Dan’s, and Dan wonders briefly how sin can bear a face so holy.
“O come – let us – adore – him,” Phil exclaims between thrusts, and Dan lets out a high-pitched whine when Phil stops moving momentarily to grab his leg and drape it over his shoulder.
The adjustment means that now he hits Dan’s prostate full-on, and Dan nearly chokes on his own breath, letting out a strangled “Christ” in sync with the choir.
“O sing, choirs of angels,“ Phil chants, slipping his hands off Dan’s shoulders to brace himself against the floor.
The heat pooling in Dan’s stomach is more intense now than that radiated by the fireplace.
“I’m cl- close – Phil – please,“ he pleads, his whole body on fire as Phil fucks him into the carpet.
He watches as the mistletoe that’s hanging from the mantlepiece dangles and then drops into the fire when Phil starts moving faster, his thrusts becoming sloppy and bent on release.
The flames crackle and devour the mistletoe.
“Hold on,“ Phil demands, his eyes scrunched shut, and dips his head to suck a mark into Dan’s sweat-soaked neck. „Sing in exultation…“
His pursed lips and blazing hot tongue make Dan crow in pleasure.
“Sing all that hear -,“ Phil slurs, face pressed into Dan’s neck, and he bites down almost painfully on Dan’s skin.
“Glory,“ Dan chimes in, “in the - Phil – highest -“ His heart is rapping against his throat and he scratches his nails down Phil’s back, desperate because he’s so close so close so -
Phil shifts his weight onto his right arm and sneaks his free hand between their bodies to jerk Dan off.
The choir’s praises of the Lord are almost drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin and Dan’s uncontrollable moans. It takes an enormous effort to hold back his orgasm.
“O come, let us adore him,“ the choir sings, and with a groan, Phil lifts his head from Dan’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against the other man’s to stare into his eyes.
“All hail! Lord, we greet thee“
“So close, baby,“ Dan whimpers, and Phil’s hand that has stilled around his cock starts pumping in time with his thrusts.
“Born this happy morning“
Phil flicks his thumb across Dan’s slit and suffocates Dan’s sob with a kiss.
“O Jesus!“
“Forevermore,“ Phil rasps, his swollen lips moving against Dan’s, “be thy name – Dan – adored –“
He slips his tongue into Dan’s mouth and Dan wraps his arms around his neck, chest heaving, feeling Phil’s hips colliding with his faster and faster yet -
“Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing“
“Dan – oh God – Dan!“ Phil comes inside of him with a muffled shout, and Dan lets go, shooting hard across both of their chests.
“O come, let us adore him,“ the choir repeats as Phil fucks Dan through his orgasm, the friction of the carpet leaving burning marks on his back.
The flames crackle in the fireplace, crunching the remains of the mistletoe, and Phil collapses on top of Dan.
“O come, let us adore him, Christ the King.“
Together they lie as the song fades out, wheezing, dripping with sweat, and utterly blissed out.
“Merry Christmas,“ Phil murmurs weakly into the commencing silence.
Dan only holds him closer in response. |
76422bc18de94a86aa328d81a1c4cfe0 | ['d9908e6e605741bd853562f49db198e4'] | "You've got to try this wine. It's one of the strongest ones out there."
She looks at me skeptically. "Will I be okay walking to my room later?"
I laugh at her, a little too loudly. When her expression remains serious, I go, "Oh, you weren't kidding. You'll be fine, it's not like you're driving anything."
"I guess I could try it," Mare relents.
Making my way over to my wine collection, I grab the highest quality bottle that I own and two glasses. I bring them over to Mare who has moved from the vanity table to the regular, small dining table. Sitting across from her, I pour both of us a drink.
"This wine is so finely made that you won't even be able to taste the aftertaste of bitterness when you drink it."
Eyeing her glass, she suddenly goes, "Was Elane upset because of last night?"
I take a long sip of my wine. She's referring to the kiss on her cheek. "I suppose she was a little upset."
"Is that why you did that?" She raises a brow. "What is with you Silvers shoving dominance in each other's faces?"
Amused by that, I laugh. "It's no different from you Reds blowing things up in our cities."
She takes the tiniest sip of the wine. And she doesn't hate it.
"Maybe if you guys knew what it was like to have to be Red in the first place, we wouldn't be blowing things up! How hard it must be to be a Silver."
I pour some more wine into my glass. "Very hard. Unable to be ourselves, forced to marry for riches and power. Being stuck in a cage for most of our lives."
Mare drinks more of the wine and starts giggling. This girl is a lightweight. "Having too many dresses to decide which one to wear is a struggle." Looking at the mess we made near the mirror of all the dresses she tried on, we both laugh. The wine was giving me a buzz due to how fast I was drinking it all down. Maybe I had a problem. Maybe I should slow down.
Getting up, I pick up one of the pale, pink dresses she tried on earlier. "On a serious note, I think this would look amazing on you if we cut it to your height."
She crinkles her eyebrows. "Pink?"
"Don't tell me you think it's too girly for you. What's wrong with girly?" My body was fuzzy now, and my mouth was moving before my mind could filter out my thoughts. Being buzzed felt so carefree.
"Nothing wrong with girly!" She raises her hands up, to show she meant no harm. I jokingly glare at her. Laughing, she went on, "I think it's too fluffy. Not what I normally wear."
Offended, I shake my head. "It makes a statement! Why not try wearing something new? Trying something different?" And suddenly, I didn't know if I was still talking about dresses.
Mare pauses, taking a drink of the wine. "I'm just used to being comfortable with what I have."
"It would be nice to wear something new for a night. Be a new person."
I set the dress down on the back of a chair and noticed Mare's eyes were glistening. I think she was buzzed too. Grabbing the bottle to place it back into my collection, I tell her, "Okay, that's enough for you."
"It was surprisingly really good, and it goes down smooth."
I smile at her, silently proud of being right about the wine.
We end up lying down on my bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. We were both buzzed from the wine but not drunk. We talk about Elane and my relationship and the things we had gone through. Mare listened, for once, without interrupting. She was probably sleepy. Being intoxicated does that.
It was silent for a few minutes.
"What is it like to kiss a girl?" Mare asks suddenly. She sits up, a little too fast, and nearly falls over. "Not that it's weird, but it's interesting that there are… people like you in Montfort."
I feel like Mare and I have crossed a line we never knew was ever going to be crossed tonight. Buzzed, in bed, and talking about our relationship problems because we had no one else to listen. I sit up as well, slower. People like me, she said.
"It's the same as you kissing Cal, a guy. But better. For me, that is."
"So, you never wanted to be with a guy?"
"Never." I enunciate. "I don't see the appeal. My body isn't genetically engineered to be with one."
Mare bites her lip. "But how do you know?"
"The same exact way I knew being a magnetron was in my blood. The same way you feel the surge of lightning running through your veins."
I look over at her. Her hair is disheveled from lying down for a long time, and her eyes were dark and glossy. Looking at her full, soft lips made my heart race faster than it had since that dream of her. And I suddenly found myself wanting to kiss her.
"But I hadn't found out I could use lightning until later on in life," she muses. She looks down at my bedsheets made of silk and traces circles onto it.
"Some things take time to discover," I state, painstakingly. Mare looks up at me, and we hold each other's gaze.
I don't know if it was the alcohol making me bold, or if the energy between us was aligned tonight. I don't even know if it was Elane's betrayal making me cover the distance between Mare and I. Or if the dream was influencing me in any way.
But I move cautiously toward Mare, and her eyes fluttered shut, and naturally, our lips found one another. | 0415ea59f2454aabae11861ca122307e | ['d9908e6e605741bd853562f49db198e4'] | "Like what? I'm a Samos, we are never ashamed," and she drags me away from the two boys.
Once we're back in the safety of my room, we collapse on my bed, a tangle of limbs. Mare looks out of breath, but she can definitely hold her own for supporting my body. She's a small thing. She looks so much more relaxed now that she's away from Silvers. A little flushed from her own drinking but much more at ease, nonetheless.
"What?" she asks, a little breathless.
"Thanks for being my comfort."
"No problem. Thanks for… being mine. It's been hard not having anyone to really talk to about things."
"You have fish boy, and that blonde woman," I mumble. My pulse beats rhythmically under my skin. Mare's eyes are glossy.
"You have your brother."
"Oh, right, my only brother who chooses to defend Elane," I laugh, an evil sound. "Right. I don't even want to talk about that. Just the idea gives me a headache already."
"Then," Mare turns, mumbles into my neck like we've done this a thousand times. "We don't have to talk about that."
"What did you want to talk about?"
"We don't have to talk at all," she says, my skin buzzing. Her hand flutters at my stomach. "I just want to get out of this dress."
The corner of my mouth lifts, and I can't help myself. "Would you like some help getting out of it?"
A long second passes and then she kisses me. Mare kisses me and I swear I can taste all her anger and heartache and tears. I can already sense the regret come morning, but I guess that's what makes this bittersweet. My hands pull at her dress, and it slips off beside mine underneath the bed in a messy heap. I just want to feel her, completely. Take comfort in the knowledge that I can do whatever I want, that I have some semblance of control in my life despite this feeling like quite the opposite. In fact, it feels like I'm losing a sense of control. It feels wild and carefree, and is this what it's like to not be in the clutches of a Silver court? There is truly something powerful about baring all your vulnerabilities.
Mare represents my vulnerability right now. She is my comfort and maybe, briefly, just maybe if we had been born as different people in a different world then…
She gasps against my lips as I insert a finger. I curl it just so, and she shifts so that I am above her, dominating. Her hips move slightly, wanting more, and I do that, drinking in her gasps and moans. They sound like music.
At some point, she pulls away, murmurs, "Let me try."
"You don't know what you're doing," I nip at her collarbone, ignore the swirling going on in my head. Will I remember this the next day?
"Evangeline," she says, breathy. "I have the same parts as you."
Hesitant, I watch her take the lead and she doesn't even wait before positioning herself perfectly between my legs. She looks perfect down there. Her brown hair against my pale skin, my hand pulls it back for her. Mare starts, slowly at first, probably her first taste of a girl. Even her tongue feels small against me.
I move my hips to guide her until she finds her own pace and it feels good. Pleasure makes me tremble as I'm usually not the one receiving as often. I prefer to give.
"You're… doing a… really good job," I pant. Both of my hands hold her head and encouraged, she laps at me faster. A little sloppy, but she's not missing the point. "I want to, at the same time."
Mare pulls back, her lips swollen and soft looking. "How…?"
"Climb on top of me, but turn around."
She does as I say, and I pull her hips down against my face. She shakes a little bit when I start licking at her, bucking her hips against me wanting more. Her moans are louder this time and she struggles to reciprocate. Just that thought makes me wetter than I already am. I'm doing this to her, to the lightning girl who puts on a brave face in front of damn near everyone. I'm making her weak.
"That feel good?"
"Yeah," she manages, spreads her legs open wide for me. Her hot breath hits my intimate spot. While still licking her, I place both of my hands onto her breasts, pinch her nipples. She can't contain herself. "Fuck, I think, soon…!"
"Yeah?" Mare's legs start to shake, and I slow down, doing lazy circles around her clit.
"Please!"
She squeezes my thighs and I give what she wants since she asked so nicely. She cries out, and bucks against my face so wildly that I have to wrap my arms around her to still her. I keep feeding her waves of pleasure and enjoy her attempting to give me the same. She starts licking me and fingering me, no hesitation.
"Mare," I moan. "Keep going."
She fingers me in that sensitive spot, finally having found it. The tension builds and builds in my abdomen until I finally burst, shaking below her. My hips automatically thrust up toward her, needing, wanting more.
We continue like that on and off for the rest of the night, and it feels like how we spar in the training room. I knew there was a reason fighting with Mare made me feel better afterward. This feels a lot like it. We take turns making each other shake with pleasure and I didn't know the human body could climax that many times in one night. She is my guilty pleasure.
The following morning, Mare is gone, and my sheets are a mess. I'm still naked. My eyes feel swollen and my body aches, but in a good way. There's a pounding in my head followed by a very dry swallow. Water. I'm so thirsty.
"It's too bright," I mutter, squinting against the sunlight that filters through my window. I put a hand up to cover my eyes, but the light dims almost immediately and a bottle of water presses against my palm. The cold is soothing.
"Drink," she says. And I do, I sit up and gulp down the water like it's the last drink I'm ever going to have.
Then her arms are around me and I smell her floral, fruity scent. The familiarity of it calms my aching head. Her red hair glows like fire in the warm light and no, it's not too bright. It's mesmerizing.
"I love you, Evangeline."
I take a deep breath, look at the green dress that was just on the floor last night. It's tucked away neatly in the closet, almost hidden from view. Never going to wear that one again.
"I… love you too, Elane. I love you too." |
2b78f96bc2314959bd379d96fb7f5cb9 | ['d9b6691d8cb7460ebbda139295be9db8'] | Athena’s voice was softer this time. “I am trying to find it in me to fully forgive you, but I’m afraid, too, Lena.” She paused. “I’m afraid that you’re going to turn on me again. You were my closest friend besides Winston.”
Lena blew out a breath. “I’ve not been a very good friend to anyone lately, mate. Been a real tosser.”
Athena… laughed? Lena couldn’t help but smile a little, the AI’s quiet giggle making her feel a lot less pressured. Smugly, she replied, “I can’t disagree.”
Lena smiled a little wider. After a small pause, she asked, “Hey, I need some advice and a favor.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think offering those two gits a spot at breaking and entering and thievery of explosives would entice them to help me break into the spot in Alice Springs?”
Athena remained silent for a time, as if thinking, and responded curtly. “Yes.”
“Anythin’ else?”
Athena was quiet again. “Lena Oxton, you are the most reckless member of Overwatch I’ve ever seen or heard of.”
Lena smiled. “That’s just my brand, love.”
Athena did not laugh. “Your favor?”
Lena looked down, blushing a little. “Yeah, about that…” Lena chewed on her bottom lip. “Could you let me know when Fareeha and Hana wake up?”
“Fareeha?” There was no subtle shock in Athena’s voice. In fact, there was enough for Lena to almost tangibly feel the words vibrating with confusion and excitement.
“Yeah. I want an accurate status report. And… I want to know how Angela _ really _ is.”
Athena was quiet for a time. “Oh! Ah, I am… I’m nodding.”
Lena barked a laugh, and the stone that had been growing like some otherworldly thing in her stomach shrank to oblivion. “Bloody hell, Athena, you’ve been talking to Zenyatta way too much.”
And then, as she’d grown accustomed to in these few short weeks, the two soft boys burst through the door, carrying large containers that looked more like kegs, which were, undoubtedly, filled with lucious ice cream. Athena blinked off quietly, and Lena frowned. She didn’t like how Athena felt the need to leave every time there was someone else around, but Lena knew why. Australia was not exactly a kind place for those like her.
Lena remembered back to King’s Row all those years ago when she’d failed so miserably at saving Mondatta Tekhartha and back to the crowds of people all but foaming at the mouth and filled with hatred. How had she come up to love her omnic and artificial intelligence brothers and sisters like she did?
_ You never spent a lot of time back home. You travelled. _
Lena sighed as the music cranked up with Roadhog’s twist of the key, and they sped off down the road. She stared at the large man and past Junkrat, who held out a spoon and a smaller tub of ice cream. Distracted by her own thoughts, she took the tub with a mumble of thanks and wondered who the man under the mask even _ was _ . She’d never really considered it before now, but now that the thought struck her, she couldn’t stop wondering.
Maybe she didn’t want to know.
* * *
Lena had heard about the radiation that devastated Australia when she was a young girl. She even remembered where she was and what she was doing.
_ A small man laughed jovially on the television propped in the corner of a café where the Oxtons stopped for some sustenance between their comings and goings. Lena’s father was too loud in this quiet place, but that didn’t bother her - not at that age. She picked at her waffles, wanting to go to the train station where her parents promised to buy her a new coat. She didn’t _ **_need_ ** _ a new coat, but she’d seen one that she really liked in a shop just in passing. Walking around and touring facilities with her parents wasn’t exactly fun work, but she was doing her best to be quiet and understanding. She needed to look good for her family, anyway. _
_ Her eyes kept drifting to the television in the corner of the room where the jovial Man in the Yellow Sweater was calling out the weather for the local area and surrounding areas, but something changed. The chatter of the television stopped entirely, and the Man in the Yellow Sweater cut to a Woman in a Blue Dress, who sat in stunned silence, her eyes going over a paper over and over. _
_ The café fell silent like a river turning into a stream then a trickle, and all eyes moved to the screen and the silent Woman in a Blue Dress. _
_ Lena felt uneasy and pulled at her mother’s arm. “Mum, what’s going on?” _
_ “Hush, Lena.” _
_ Lena, too, fell silent. _
_ The Woman in a Blue Dress began speaking. “We…” She paused, taking a breath. “We interrupt our weather forecast to bring some… unexpected and… terrible news. The entire… The…” The woman swallowed visibly and closed her eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m sorry. This is strange, unprecedented, and confusing. The entire continent of Australia has been…” She looked down at the words again, her eyes squinted at the paper again. “Australia has undergone several explosions across the continent. The death toll is unknown but is estimated in the millions. Our…” She grew quiet and stopped looking at the camera. “Our sources say that the dust cloud obscures our satellites, and there is no visual of the surface. We are currently receiving no updates from any Australian government, and all flights are currently grounded. All mass transportation is shut down until further notice. We have satellite footage of the continent. This content may be bewildering and… unsuited for some viewers.” _
_ Strange footage rolled of a cloud over an ocean, but there was nothing discernable about it other than that. _ | aae67b2c8ef24cb39d8f05dd9f42c526 | ['d9b6691d8cb7460ebbda139295be9db8'] | “I know you trust me as far as you can throw me,” acquiesced Angela with some resentment that Lena knew everyone _ other _ than Amélie probably caught. She was incredibly good at hiding it, but after living with her all this time, anyone would know Angela’s bitterness. “But we have to do this procedure as quickly as possible. Your… degeneration-” the word seemed to pain Angela like she was chewing on a cactus. “-is rapidly accelerating. Even if your mental degeneration seems to be stable, your body is falling apart.”
Zenyatta, who floated nearest to Amélie, nodded. “Amélie, I know you have just come back to us and that it is difficult to trust we who are still strangers in this new life, but we wish you nothing but the best.” Zenyatta looked up at Lena with noble eye slits. “I fear that we are reaching the end of our peace time and that war is on the front.”
Amélie gave Zenyatta a flat look, and though her voice trembled, her hand clasping Lena’s was steady. “We’ve been at war for a long time.”
Genji, for once, butted in. “We have been waging battles without the parameters of war. We’ve been beating back Talon’s grip wherever we can, but now we know that it’s destabilized to the point of collapse, especially with…” He trailed off and removed his face plate that covered his eyes. “Especially with Reyes at the head of the organization. He’s unstable, and…”
Amélie cut off the conversation with she sharp blade of her unadulterated coldness. “You fear that his instability is only a foreshadowing for what I’ll become if you don’t cut me open.”
Lena gave a sidelong glance from Amélie to Hana, who spoke for the first time since Amélie had entered the room. “We’re going to have to fight him,” she said.
“No,” Anna said, slurping gracefully at her nth cup of tea. How much tea could one person drink??? “We’re going to have to kill him.”
Lena’s heart squeezed watching Angela, already tense from the inspection, sag against Fareeha, but she wasn’t the only one who reacted to that. Jack reached for Jesse’s hand, and Reinhardt wrapped his large arm around Ana’s shoulders, careful not to jostle her to the point where her beverage would spill. Even Genji shifted uncomfortably, being a member of Blackwatch and having an association with Reyes.
Angela sighed. “Can we get back to the subject at hand?”
Mei grumbled something and Zarya kissed her forehead.
“Brain surgery isn’t my idea of a good time, but fine, whatever.” Amélie threw her hands up. “When do we start?”
Angela chewed on her lip. “I’m… gonna need a nap. I don’t know how long the surgery will take, but we… we know where your implants are.”
Sombra, who made everyone at least a little trigger happy, smiled blithely. “Well, _ Angela _ , if you really need extra information on them, I can _ absolutely _ help in the surgery. I designed at _ least _ two of them. I can explain exactly how they work. They’re wonderful pieces of art, honestly. One, even, is wrapped around her brain stem and has a two pass system. If you screw up one, angelita, you kill her instantly.” A heaviness settled on them all, and Lena closed her eyes to concentrate on stopping herself from hyperventilating. “Of course… Death would be better than that. Killing Amélie.”
Angela’s haggard face grew darker than a stormfront. “What do you mean, Sombra?”
“I mean that you will kill Amélie, and the other one will have no inhibitions at _ all _ . She will come out, and she will kill us all.”
Lena’s knuckles cracked, and her eyes snapped open as Amélie’s fingers turned white in a vicelike grip that felt close to breaking all of Lena’s fingers at once. “Ce-ci n'est pas quelle j'etais passe un bon temp,” she whispered to herself almost too low for Lena to hear, but Lena wasn’t exactly sure what it meant nor did she get a good sentiment from it. At best, she picked out “not” and “fun.” But then again, she’d already said it in English, Lena was sure. Amélie sighed and relinquished her tear-inducing grip on Lena’s fingers. Her voice was more tired than it had been when Lena had first found her in King’s Row. More tired than Florence. More tired than after the attempt on Gérard’s life. “I will choose to trust you, Angela Ziegler, but I have one condition.”
Everyone’s gaze swished back and forth between Angela and Amélie.
The woman beside Lena shifted and stared Angela Ziegler down like a cat before a strike, jabbing a finger at the air in Sombra’s direction. “Keep her the _ fuck _ away from me while I’m out.”
The gaggle in the kitchen was beginning to dissolve into everyone’s own specific activities, and Lena checked the time. It was getting close to the evening rush around Drachten, but she still wondered…
She squeezed Amélie’s hand before standing and asked, “Do you want to go grab yourself some clothes from town? We don’t have to do a full scale thing, but Angela won’t be ready until tomorrow at the earliest, and if you have brain surgery, I doubt that you’re going to be in much of a mood to do anything like that for a while.” |
202b36a3697b4f7e8ddcb1bd35ab3415 | ['d9e4a052aea1449cbdb69e96a0f15a8d'] |
Up With The Crows
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
The beat of music rocks the building, vibrating the floorboards and knocking through the walls. Neon signs outside lead into an alleyway and down into a basement repurposed into an underground nightclub. It's sketchy, but definitely not low-key enough to avoid authority attention. Skylar sat in a dark corner, taking in the scene. The club wasn't to discretionary about the drugs there. Soft, recreational stuff was blatant out on the dancefloor and the bar. The counter where Skylar sat was nicked from razor marks in long lines. A few people had been led into back rooms, where the good stuff blatantly must have been. The place was ripe for a crackdown, as fun as it really looked. Suddenly, a silhouette covered her vision, and settled itself in front of her. The open gray vest and button up shirt, combined with the black cloak, made Qrow look more like a shadow in this corner than a real person. "You know, you should never eat the peanuts at bars. It just makes you thirstier, you order more drinks, the cycle continues." He chuckled, liquor heavy on his breath as he produced a steel flask for him vest pocket. "I always bring my own stuff with me." The older man tilted his head back and took a shot before offering it to Skylar. "It's the hard stuff, if you want it." Qrow said with a chuckle. "Anyways, what're you doing here, sweetcheeks?" He asked, looking around as what could be considered a rather deplorable place.
Sitting on one of the many stools that sat at the bar, the smaller black haired female traced her pointer finger along the rim of her glass, this steakout she was on seemed to be taking forever. She was hoping for a little more excitement then this, lifting her gaze back up just in time to see the silhouette of the man that sat beside her. Looking him up and down curiously, she couldn't deny that he was quite attractive; though pushed the thought aside as he started to talk to her. Skylar did in fact recognize Qrow, but had never gotten in any solid conversations with him. Resting her chin on the palm of her hand listening to him speak, a small smile spreading across her face breathing a laugh. Reaching her hand out she took the flask from his hand, "You're just full of facts aren't you?" She asked teasingly taking a swig of the liquid in the flask. The burning in her throat made her cough softly. She handed him back the flask as she cleared her throat. "Wouldn't you like to know. I could ask you the same thing." She told him in a soft flirtatious tone.
Qrow shoved the flask away with a gentle glint before it slipped beneath his vest and into its respective pocket. "You know I frequent bars. I like the quiet. depressed atmosphere." He laughed, leaning onto the counter. "Or you know, being alone around so many people partying to music." He rubbed his stubble for a second, which seemed unkempt and a little gray. He then used the same hand to cup Skylar's chin, angling it against the dim light. "Maybe we can be alone together." He teased, his voice dripping with a clumsily flirty attitude. Qrow inched in closer, stumbled a bit, and then held himself still, clearly a bit hammered. The smell of hard whiskey might sting Skylar's nose.
Holding a innocent smile as he spoke to her his reasoning making her giggle a little. Feeling his hand cup her chin she felt her heart skip a beat suddenly, his teasing and flirty tone made her smirk subtly. Reaching a hand out she placed it on his knee leaning closer to him, not really minding the smell of whiskey on him. It was better than the scent in the club. "I'd like that." She purred softly, her hand sliding from his knee up to his thigh giving it a light and teasing squeeze. Her eyes darkened as her pupils dilated, taking in his appearance in the dim lighting. The subtle lighting made him just that more attractive than he already was. Her faunus ear twitched on top of her head to get a better feel of the music that was playing around them, finding the genre almost a bit unfitting.
The corner of Qrow's lip quirked up into a little smirk. "Oh, I'm glad." He said nonchalantly before his hand ghosted up from her chin and up to the side of her head. He cupped it, fingers pressed into her hair, his index and middle finger situated behind her faunus ear. Qrow leaned forward and mashed his lips against Skylar's, getting used to the way they felt before gradually transitioning into a smoother, more intense kiss. The taste of whiskey was strong in his mouth, but he seemed as if he didn't exactly care to realize it. His thumb glided across her cheekbone and back, as he pushed a little closer towards Skylar.
Feeling a slight shiver run up her spine when his fingers pressed into her hair, and the feel of his fingers grazing her ear made a noise want to bubble from Skylar’s throat. His lips pressed against hers, she closed her eyes pressing her lips back against his, getting a feel for his lips her free hand sliding to the back of his already messy hair gripping at it lightly. She felt as if the whiskey that tainted his mouth and lips were enough to get her drunk. As he moved closer to him her hand slid further up his thigh to his side to grip at his clothing. Moving closer to him her knees touching his as she moved further down the stool she sat on. | c6ded9e6103544e7b7812f52fdb5faae | ['d9e4a052aea1449cbdb69e96a0f15a8d'] |
Sparks flew from the flint as it was struck by the piece of steel in Butch's hand. He grumbled angrily as he stared through the dark and down at the small fire pit he had made.
“I dunno how ta' do this shit...” He mumbled to himself before striking the flint again, sending sparks into the bits of wood and dead grass he'd managed to find in this god forsaken desert. “I swear-” The greaser struck it again, and finally the bits and pieces of flammable crap he'd thrown into the pit set aflame. Without so much as a word of achievement he dipped down, blowing onto the lit embers in hopes the fire would start, and after becoming rather light-headed, he finally managed to get the fire to lick up into the air. Butch leaned back now, thankful that the fire was finally lit. It created a warm halo of glow around him, reaching out a few feet into the sand before the darkness took vision once more.
Though there beyond that glow came the Lone Wanderer, weary eyes watching the newly lit fire as they entered the halo of warmth. They approached the edge of the small campfire and fell down onto their bottom, letting out a sigh as they pulled their hands from the pockets of the leather coat given to them by the barber at their side.
“One can of pork 'n' beans.” The Wanderer spoke, reaching into the coat and setting down a tin can, the label reading as said. Butch was quiet for a moment.
“That's all they were sellin'?” The hairdresser finally said. “You're sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure, this was all they were selling. At least all they would give me for the caps I've got right now.”
Butch didn't respond. The Wanderer quietly set down their pack and rifled through it, picking out a can opener and a small pot. They got to cooking the contents of the tin in silence. Finally, after a few moments, the Wanderer brought the pot away, the beans steaming and ready.
“You still got the spoons?” The Wanderer inquired. Butch mumbled as he took his pack and looked through it, though he only pulled out a single spoon, tossing it over.
“Guess I'll have to skimp out on this meal, or, whatever.” The greaser mumbled. “All us Tunnel Snakes need is guns 'n' liquor anyways.”
“You're missing the latter.” The Wanderer said, smirking. “Though seriously, we can just share the spoon. No problem with it.”
“There is a problem with it, actually.” Butch retorted, folding his arms over one another.
“And what would be?” Replied the Wanderer.
“Well, there's only so much beans, right, and you're the one with the big mission 'n' stuff. Me? I'm fine. Tunnel Snakes are meant to tough it out.”
“Sounds too noble of you.” The Wanderer mentioned with a chuckle. “Remember you're with me on this 'big mission 'n' stuff' with me, DeLoria. Tunnel Snake or not, you gotta eat.”
“You tryin' to say I'm a pipsqueak like you?”
“Butch, No.”
“C'mon, do I have to do everything, cut your hair, start fires, make you eat?”
“Do I have to make you eat?” The Wanderer retorted, receiving an expression of frustration from Butch. The Wanderer took a spoonful from the pot of beans, eating them, before handing the pot over to Butch.
“Nope.” He said.
“Butch, you've seen me go days without eating before.”
“Yeah, and now I care, okay? Eat the damn beans.”
“Why now?”
“I just do pipsqueak.”
“I will force feed you beans if I have to.”
“Don't you dare.” Butch replied, but the Wanderer had none of that, scooping up a spoonful and lurching over towards Butch, wavering the spoon in front of his mouth.
“Come on! Open up!” The Wanderer told.
“Gah! Stop it! You're gonna get it on my fuckin' Jacket!” Butch shouted in protest. Finally, after a moment of struggle, Butch reluctantly just took the spoon from The Wanderer and took the beans, though, he didn't swallow. The Wanderer arched a brow up at him in disbelief.
“Really?” They said, watching Butch. Eventually he swallowed the beans, admitting defeat in the situation.
“Fuck you, pipsqueak.” Butch grumbled. The two then proceeded to share the pot of beans, handing it back and forth, taking spoonfuls and near the end, Butch had insisted that the Wanderer finish of the last few bites. When it was finally finished off, The Wanderer and the Hairdresser sat there for a long, few quiet moments before someone finally spoke up.
“So, Butch, you know what I've been noticing?” The Wanderer said, turning their gaze up to the greaser. “You've been trying to keep me away when we're getting into those fights...”
“No I'm not.” Butch retorted bitterly.
“You told me to get out of the way before you proceeded to try and hit a super mutant with a baseball bat.”
“I thought it was a good idea, alright?”
“It broke the bat and nearly killed you.”
“Yeah! But it died first!” Butch tried to argue.
“After I shot it in the head, Butch.” The Wanderer told, unimpressed. There was a moment of silence then, Butch averting his gaze from the Wanderers own. “You don't have to be worried about my well-being Butch. I made it on my own for a while-”
“I'm not-...” Butch turned as he began, but when he saw the Wanderers expression, his words fell flat, and he sighed, running a hand over his mouth and up his cheek. “Maybe.. Maybe I care a bit, alright? I mean, Tunnel Snakes gotta look out for each other..” He told. The Wanderer was smiling now. “What? What?!” Butch said, becoming flustered now.
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” The wanderer said, chuckling softly.
“Don't laugh at me pipsqueak, just because you're a Tunnel Snake don't mean I won't rough you up...” Butch threatened. Though, the Lone Wanderer was unabated.
“Here Butch, I may as well thank you for caring.” The Wanderer said, and leaning over to Butch, and they laid a gentle peck on his cheek, much to his confusion.
“I-” Butch tried to begin, only being interrupted by the Wanderer.
“There's a lot more to life than guns and liquor, Tunnel Snake.” They explained, before giving Butches shoulder a light shove. “Now get some sleep. We've got stuff to do tomorrow. No stopping for the 'big mission.'” And with that, the Wanderer lay down on their side, using their pack as a pillow as they zipped up the leather jacket, closing their eyes with a smile on their lips.
Butch didn't quite lay down right away, trying to process what had just happened.
“Eh... ye-... Yeah, sleep, whatever.” The hairdresser mumbled, laying down on his back with his arms folded behind his head. He didn't ever quite close his eyes, just sort of watched the stars until sleep whisked him off.
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this a very long time ago and didn't really touch it up, but should I write more? Lemme know! |
10fc89cf67544ee386d75cc12b23a01d | ['da14abac3b8d45bb8010ee6f4ec9eea7'] |
Trip to the Beach! I have to work?
Author’s Note: This story is set in the same continuity as my previous one _Hinata’s Birthday? Scramble!_ As always, I like reviews and criticism, and if anyone would like me to work on a series or you have a plot bunny that needs a good home, let me know. And thank you to all those who gave me feedback on my first story. This fic is dedicated to you.
Disclaimer:“Welcome to fanfiction. Do you have anything to disclaim?” “Uumm, I don’t own Naruto?” “Get in line, pal. Anything else?” “Can I disclaim any ability to write?” “Line for that’s even longer, buddy. Anymore?” “umm…no?” “Then gettoutta here! NEXT!&rdquo
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# **Prologue**
The Sun was reaching its zenith in the clear cerulean sky, the signs of the passing storm all but removed from anyone’s notice. To the young man working under the ascending Sun, this merely added to the heat of which he was so used to. On this lonely expanse of beach, the man-child had labored since the pre-dawn chill. His siblings were busy at other tasks, for this one was his and his alone. Only his abilities and his knowledge could complete the project in time. Looking out across the ocean for a moment, the would-be craftsman thought of the typhoon that had come and devastated the shoreline and all that dwelled there. Normally, he reveled in the chaos of destruction, except on this day he found himself rather enjoying this act of creation. Though he would be loathed to tell of it, the artistry of it all made him smile. For none knew the secrets of sand as he did. “Gaara! Lunch is ready!” his sister called. Glancing towards the trees, he saw his only family members left sitting, preparing their midday meal. Aware of the growing hunger in his own belly, Gaara turned to join them.
## **Part 1**
The Village of the Hidden Leaf was once again having a quiet day. Many of the older ninja were back from missions abroad. The village elders were relieved, especially after the most recent incident involving Orochimaru’s Sound ninja. And due to these factors, the head of the village, Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage, could be found in her office on this very quiet day. The strain had been great on the hastily assembled team that had been sent out for Uchiha Sasuke, but thanks to the talents of the medical squads, all the boys would be fine. Physically, anyway. This incident had practically sidelined four teams. And there is the question of what to do about Team Seven. Tsunade sighed inwardly, knowing that they all needed some time off. But did that mean that she had to take this man up on his offer?
“Look, Tsunade, you and I both know that the village could use the money.” The man sitting across from her said. “This better not be research for another one of those books of yours!” the Fifth Hokage retorted. Her baleful gaze did nothing to discourage him though. “Ok, let me go over it one more time. Just so we don’t miss anything.” he began, “The typhoon on the south coast recently flattened a resort I invested in, as well as the nearby village. I’ve already hired help to rebuild, but I still need temporary help running it and attracting customers. After that, all I want is to sell the whole lot and be done with it.” Then the white haired man smiled, “And you know, Tsunade-chan, that research is best done when the girls think they’re alone!” The deceptively young looking woman looked as if she was ready to throw him through a wall or three. “Jiraiya!” she snapped. The Sennin let his smile fade as he looked at his friend. “This is the best option. You want them to recuperate, but not unobserved. And a change of scenery would be good for them.” The mountain hermit paused to see if the leader of Konoha had cooled down any. When she nodded, he continued. “I need to get this resort up and running if I am to sell it. I’ll pay double the normal amount for the help and I’m even willing to donate most of the profits to the reconstruction.”
“‘Donate the profits’?” the blond woman repeated. “What’s the hurry, anyway?” she asked. Jiraiya stared at her straight in the eye. “It’s cursed.” Tsunade immediately move her hand over her mouth to stifle a snicker. “I can see you don’t believe me. In five years it’s never been open for more than two weeks. Something always happens. Storms, missing nin, sea monsters. I just want to be rid of the place.” She smiled at her friend’s predicament. “Fine, you can take them. But I want you there in case anything happens.” Jiraiya appeared to be puzzled. “Well, you know that boys and girls at that age will find a way to-” “Not that ‘something’ you pervert! What if the Akatsuki comes back for Naruto? The Sound attack? Or your ‘sea monster’ kicks sand in your face?” The Sennin thought for a second. “Sea monster fin soup?” The fifth Hokage couldn't help but laugh. | c34c7f4eb4f5464cb0e45e2971ae944a | ['da14abac3b8d45bb8010ee6f4ec9eea7'] | Outside, Naruto sat down on a bench across from the shop. Not wanting to be labeled as a pervert anymore than he was, he tried some Shikamaru style cloud watching. :sigh: What a mess he was in. After spending a good part of the day with her, he still had no idea what she wanted. The only shop Hinata had gone into, she was knocked into by Sakura and Ino. He had no idea what they were up to, but he hoped it had nothing to do with him. The last thing he wanted right now was for those two to embarrass Hinata-chan or the manager to come at him with something. Naruto was really enjoying his day off and enjoyed sharing it even more.
“Hey boss!” he heard. Looking down the street, he saw Konohamaru waving. “Where’d that girl go? The cute one you were with.” the ninja wannabe asked as he strolled up.
“She’s in there.” the blond replied gesturing towards the store. “Cool. Let's go look!” Grinning mischievously Naruto responded, “Sakura’s in there. Along with her friend.”
That stopped the young boy in his tracks. “Umm, maybe not.” Said the younger boy, suddenly feeling rather queasy.
Naruto suddenly had an idea. “Hey Konohamaru. I got a favor to ask….”
Meanwhile inside Kasumi’s of Konoha™, Ino and Sakura couldn’t believe their eyes. The store manager had just spent the last five minutes talking Hinata out of her clothes. The manager, a busty woman by the name of Saiyuri, was convinced that she had a new bra for Hinata. The lithe Genin tried to protest at first, but Saiyuri would hear nothing of it. She kept saying that girls her age grow fast and that it is important to keep up with it lest Hinata ruin her ‘womanly form’. Hinata simply wanted to go back to Naruto-kun, but the shopkeeper was nice and she didn’t want to offend her. So the raven-haired girl went in to the changing room with the black silky contraption the manager handed her.
“I think it fits.” She said quietly as she walked out, the bra being the only thing on her from the waist up.
Saiyuri lit up, “It’s perfect, dear. Here, these go with it”. She handed Hinata a pair of matching panties that were positively tiny.
Hinata turned bright red. “Umm, Naruto-kun is waiting.” She said as took the underwear and handed Saiyuri money for the set. She then ran to put her clothes back on.
Sakura and Ino were still attempting to pick their jaws off the floor. Hinata had to be a least a cup size bigger than they were. You normally couldn’t tell since she wore that baggy jacket a lot. They looked at their own bosoms and then at each other’s. Combining her size with her petite figure and, well, life could be quite unfair at times. The two girls sighed in unison. At least Hinata wasn’t after Sasuke.
### **Part 5**
Outside the shop of wonders, a dark haired girl was looking with interest at a blond boy staring into the sky. “Umm, sorry I took so long, Naruto-kun.” The shy girl apologized.
Naruto had just been doing his best Shikamaru impression, now looked at her and smiled roguishly. “What do you think? Dye my hair black and no one would know the difference!” he came back with as a response.
Hinata giggled. She raised her delicate hand and drew a line on his cheek. “Your whiskers….” She began, but his laughter cut her off.
“Yeah, I guess it would take more work.” Then they both laughed.
As they began to walk again, each one was quiet. Naruto was wondering what Hinata-chan would like to do next. Hinata on the other hand, was trying her best not to turn several shades of scarlet. _I wonder what possessed me to buy it_ , thinking of the new garments she had on under her outerwear. _What would Naruto-kun think?_ “Umm… So why do you have the day off, Naruto-kun?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh, Kakashi-sensei is out on some mission. Guess they didn’t want us to get in the way.” he answered.
“Kurenai-sensei had a mission too.” she commented.
Talking about their teachers got Naruto thinking. “Hey Hinata-chan! You ever wonder what’s in that book Kakashi's always reading?”
“Kurenai always gets grumpy if I ask her what he's reading.” she responded.
“Well, Kakashi is out of the village for a few days, so why don't we sneak into his place and have a look!” the troublemaker challenged.
“I-if y-you want to, Naruto-kun.” Hinata said warily.
“OK!” Naruto said in his courage inspiring way that Hinata loved so much.
“So where does your teacher, Kakashi, live?” Hinata wondered.
This stopped the team seven member dead in his tracks. “Y'know, I never thought about that.” he realized. Luckily, they were near the library and one stolen library card later gave them all the information they needed. Like the fact that he had a ‘pick of the month’ display in the adult section. His address was also on file. Finding Kakashi's apartment wasn't nearly as hard as they thought it would be. Finding a way around so of the booby traps left on the locked door proved to be more troublesome. After three near misses with shuriken, one deadfall, and Naruto using the Substitution technique to keep Hinata and a poison needle from meeting, the window seemed like a much better choice. To his surprise, Hinata showed that she too knew how to cling to walls using her chakra. Using this technique made it much easier for the two to make their way to the open window of Kakashi's place. Now if only the gutters weren't set to release pepper bombs on unsuspecting wall walkers. |
e914c3d01c66477582e0a4dcc0a87998 | ['da3a31c3932d4e2d80af8dc954b01545'] | Both Naegi and the lavender-haired woman saw what ‘Mukuro’ was doing as she took a step to her right, closer to the wall.
“MAKOTO! STOP HE-” The lavender haired woman yelled towards Naegi before the right side of her head met the wall in a force that might as well kill a man. The hit was accompanied by an equally brutal sounding noise.
Mukuro’s hands slowly let go of the woman's hair as her eyes rolled backwards, signalling either unconsciousness or even death. The woman slowly fell down towards the floor as blood began painting the right side of her hair.
Naegi just stared at the limp body that rested along the wall. Naegi collected himself surprisingly fast and crawled beside the woman. Taking a closer look at her, he studied the wound at the side of her head, seeing that the skull had broken up completely and blood poured out it like a red waterfall. Not even her chest was moving. _She wasn't breathing._
Naegi slowly backed away as he looked at the body in horror. He couldn't believe what he had done. And only then it hit him.
He had done this.
He had killed an innocent woman in cold blood.
Without mercy.
Naegi’s stomach emptied itself on the spot.
As his stomach continued emptying itself, his mind was telling him one thing, and one thing only.
_You aren’t **human**_ **_._ **
_You_ **_belong_ ** _here._ _
_ _To be used, tested on, killed on repeat._
**_You are a monster._ **
…
…
…
…
..no.
No.
He wasn’t a monster.
He **was** n’t a monster!
She attacked first! It was self-defence!
**I do** n’t **belong here!**
**I AM** NOT **A MONSTER!**
And so, Naegi rose up, took a final look at the corpse body and shifted his sight on the now unmoving squad.
“Open the exit.” He said firmly and walked past the corpse body without looking at it.
At that moment Mukuro collapsed to her knees.
“I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!! I AM SORRY JUNKO!! I AM SO, SO, SO SORRY THAT I COULDN'T PROTECT YOU FROM HIM! I’M SORRY! **HEAR ME!!** **_PLEASE!_ ** ” She wailed like a madman as her face morphed back to something that a human could have. Her face was accompanied by tears that were flowing down from her eyes.
Naegi was surprised beyond all limits and started walking closer to her, only stopping as he saw Mukuro’s pants having a wet trail from between her legs and a small yellowish puddle forming under her.
Mukuro finally collapsed completely as she fell to her side, holding her knees close to her chest as she wailed and cried as the puddle was getting larger, slowly getting big enough for her to fit in.
Naegi decided in a bit of mercy to leave her alone and not take her under his command anymore. So he walked away from her, the wailing getting louder and louder behind him.
Not long after, the other female of the group (her name tag read Asahina), took a keycard from her chest pocket and showed it to the scanner beside the door.
The yellow light above the door begun working, filling the hallway with yellow light as the door started opening slowly, but surely.
He was out.
Freedom.
The door started opening and at that point, the only thing Naegi could feel was happiness.
Then the door opened completely and all that disappeared.
Fifteen-ish soldiers stood on the other side, wearing grey and black armour and carrying all kinds of weapons, all long range.
Behind them stood a man holding a white handheld loudspeaker in his hands, risen to his lips. The man wore a black suit with a white undershirt and accompanied with glasses and a blonde shoulder length hair.
“Fire.” Was the last thing Naegi heard him saying before the guns started singing, drowning Naegi’s body in bullets. Before closing his eyes, he saw all the soldiers moving towards him as the controlled squad fell to their knees one by one.
“O-01-52 has been captured and all the others have been cleared of its effects,” was the last thing Naegi heard before his heart stopped beating.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Twitter: @USER
> Discord: https://discord.gg/XrVZr7r
>
> All art is welcome!
4. Chapter 3.5/Reports of yesterday
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Collection of reports of the event.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm trying to change some things around, so these kinds of chapters might appear more in the future.
>
> If you would rather not have these and instead a normal chapter, just leave a comment below
**Report type: Normal.**
**Subject:** The event at **[REDACTED]** o’clock on the **[REDACTED]** th of **[REDACTED].**
**The writer of the file:** Togami Byakuya, Head of the Control Centre.
**Start:**
This ‘report’ policy is complete and utter **[REDACTED]**. The Administrator could see the whole event through the cameras, which cover more than the eyewitnesses on sight. Anyway, I’d rather keep my job than be ‘retired’ so here I go.
All of this started with the Ordeal “Cheers for the start”, following the security protocols, we shut down all of the energy collection and focused on the Ordeal. But unknown to us, one of the ‘clowns’ had reached the Old Lady and was lowering it’s Qliphoth Counter. Soon enough, the Old Lady’s counter reached zero and she ‘escaped’.
When I sent Hagakure to it after we got almost all the clowns down, he stepped in and got instantly covered in the stress. The news of this reached me almost immediately and I wrongly prioritised getting him out of the stress before he could fall into panic. As I turned all my focus on this task, two of the leftover clowns took The Scorched Girl and T-01-54 as their targets. Both of them succeeded in that, freeing both of them. | 64768f435b8a4b4ba2d4cbbd664f9fab | ['da3a31c3932d4e2d80af8dc954b01545'] | On closer inspection, he noticed that the wooden thing that pierced the girl/Abnormal was a matchstick, which had, to his surprise, its tip still on fire.
“H-hello..?” Naegi tried to communicate with the Abnormal due to it _looking_ like a human, but didn't have high expectations.
In response, the Abnormal just tilted its head while looking at Naegis face, making him a bit nervous.
_‘pleasedontendmymiserablelife.pleasedontendmymiserablelife.pleasedon-’_ He prayed while having a dead-set look on the Abnormal, light sweat pouring on his forehead.
‘It’s gonna kill me, isn't it?’ Naegi guessed as he fell back to his own thoughts. His demise looked like it was gonna be a fiery one. All of this because some people saw him as ‘Abnormal’. He was as normal as it got!
Because being able to control people with your voice alone was _‘_ normal’. Good job Naegi.
Then he heard a chuckle. A small, childish chuckle.
Focusing his head back to the _actual_ Abnormal in front of him, he was met with a surprise.
It was silently giggling, although it was hard to hear since it had covered its mouth with its hands and the giggling was quiet in the first place, it was giggling nonetheless.
Naegi calmed down a bit, feeling a bit relieved hearing the Abnormal laugh. He wasn't going to die _just_ yet.
“So I’m betting that you can understand me?” Naegi asked with a sigh of relief, acting as the Abnormal was just a normal child. This included lowering himself to the Abnormals height and looking at it with a soft smile.
The Abnormal walked from amidst Mukuro’s group towards him, now standing about half a meter away from him, displaying a small, but present, a smile on its face.
For a short moment, both of them just stared at each other. Naegi’s brain was having a hard time coming up with conversation starters and the Abnormal probably couldn't talk. So the situation just continued.
Then the Abnormals facial features changed. It now looked like it had no emotions on its face.
Naegi was immediately filled with panic and worry, he sprung back to his full height and prepared to run. Shortly after, the familiar crying started again, making Naegi panic even more.
The Abnormal took a step towards him, making Naegi take a step back at the same time.
‘shitshitshitshitshitshitshit,’ Naegi cursed in his mind, ‘Why is my luck like this?!’
His luck didn't like to be insulted at all, as revenge, it made Naegi misstep and fall on his ass.
Down on the floor, Naegi accepted his fate and shielded his head with his hands.
‘This is it! Good luck handling my burned corpse!’ He yelled to his kidnappers in his mind and waited for the inevitable.
So he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And wai-.
He opened his eyes finally when he heard a door opening. Looking in front of him, he found that the Abnormal was gone completely from his sight. Glancing behind him, he found it, walking through a door. The door closed behind the Abnormal, leaving wordless Naegi alone with ‘Mukuro’ and the rest of the group.
Not a single noise could be heard even minutes after the Abnormal had gone through the door. Naegi was still staring at the aforementioned door, completely frozen. ‘Mukuro’ and the crew were still standing still like boards.
Naegi was finally woken up from his daze by his brain _kindly reminding him to gET TO THE EXIT AND_ **_ESCAPE!_ **
Springing back to his feet and running back to the group, he quickly checked everyone for damages (they were still human after all) and sighed in relief when he found none.
“Let’s go,” he commanded and this time, instead of lagging behind, he was in the middle of the squad. And so, the escape attempt continued.
After walking for about two minutes however, Naegi noticed a trend. The group would walk for a while, then Naegi would fall out of the group, forcing him to jog a bit to catch up to the others. Rinse and repeat. He was beginning to be a bit exhausted too from the almost constant jogging.
So he had an idea.
“Stop,” he said and all movement ceased. Naegi quickly speed-walked in front of the squad.
‘Come rain or shine I guess,’ he thought as he put his idea into action.
“Which one is physically the strongest? Please raise your hand.” He asked from the squad while hoping that his ‘powers’ wouldn't restrict just to taking over and giving commands.
To Naegi’s delight (and disappointment not long after), he was proven wrong. He could ask questions from the people he took over and they would actually answer!
The question itself didn't have any problems, neither did the action of asking stuff from the personnel in front of him.
The problem came from the self-confidence and pride of the people in the group.
Naegi just sighed as he looked at the six raised hands in front of him. Every one of the group saw themselves as the ‘most powerful physically’. So he tried to change his question a bit.
“Which one of you would be able to piggyback me and jog at the same time? That person keeps your hand up, everyone else drops them,” He asked while staring at the hands that were risen already.
Five hands dropped back beside their owner, leaving one hand up.
‘Perfect,’ Naegi smiled slightly and gave the next order.
**Back at the Command Centre**
“Why can’t you be like every other Abnormal?” Togami sighed in frustration as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. An Abnormal that didn't get attacked by other Abnormals or did not attack them? Rare, valuable, easy to control, but annoying.
Three out of four of those applied to O-01-52. Sadly It wasn't the first three.
Rare? Yes. A human-like Abnormal that made other Abnormals calm towards it and did not attack other Abnormals in sight? Extremely rare. |
aa79775ea0864e308d8f598970ba546c | ['da5db826ee3a4ee7b8d2d1062a623af2'] | Roxy smiled, Avon had been right about Vila, his simple mindedness was refreshing, then a question came to mind.
"Avon said that you were dead, killed on Gauda Prime with his crew of the Scorpio?"
"I would have been if it wasn't for my knack of escaping death," Vila said with a smile before continuing,
"Once Dayna was killed, Federation troopers rushed Blake's rebel base with guns blazing. On the sound of the first shot I hit the deck and stayed there, it seemed as though the troopers thought I was dead so they left me alone. The gunfire stopped, I saw that Avon was surrounded by Federation troopers, all with their guns aimed at him. Avon looked as if he was just about to fire at the guards when more gun shots rang out. It was the rebel soldiers from Blake's force. In the ensuing melee, I did a runner. The last I saw of Avon was him laying face down on the floor, I wasn't gonna go back and check to see if he was alive. All the crew were dead, I wanted to make sure that I survived at least," Vila explained.
Roxy smiled. Just then the door opened and Lomax stepped inside. Vila backed away as Lomax glared at Roxy,
"Good, you're awake. You have a visitor,"
Roxy looked to Vila, he returned her worried look with his own, Roxy was scared.
Roxy was escorted into the command office by Lomax and a Federation guard, Liza Ford stood watching as Roxy was brought in. Liza studied the blonde for a moment, her eyes glowed and a smile came to her red lips,
"Yes, definitely Roxanne Davis. I must admit that your photo file does not do you justice, I must remember not to have my photograph done by the same photographer," Liza said pleasantly as she took a seat.
"Please sit." Liza offered as she gestured to the chair opposite.
Roxy slowly took the seat, she expected something to happen, she didn't know what but for some reason Liza's pleasantness was unnerving.
"Lomax, you and the guard can leave us now," Liza ordered,
Lomax nodded, he turned to the guard and gestured for him to leave, Lomax followed him out of the door which quickly closed behind them.
"Wine?" Liza offered,
"No thanks," Roxy bluntly replied.
Liza poured out a glass and passed it to her.
"I think that you will need some wine,"
"And I said no thanks,"
Liza gave Roxy a hard look as she stood and walked around the table, she stopped behind Roxy and placed her hands on the blondes shoulders, her grip was firm, Roxy winced and gasped as her shoulder flared up in pain.
"Hurts does it?" Liza taunted,
"With the wine, the pain will not feel as bad. I can tell you it is going to get far worse,"
"I don't need it," Roxy found herself answering, the words came as a surprise to her, Liza was surprised too.
The former electronics engineer swallowed hard, Roxy wasn't good with pain, she was scared when she had been brought into the office, her fear now had reached new heights.
Kerr Logan paced the flight deck, he was alone, he looked around the massive room, he couldn't believe that Roxy was dead. Something in what Blake and Karla had described didn't sit well, perhaps it was that fact that he didn't wish to think that she was dead, perhaps it was because he had grown close to the woman over the last few weeks. Since Septer Prime his feelings had changed, one person he felt good with and could trust was Roxy and now she was dead, he had to try and convince himself of that. Why didn't it feel right? He turned to see Blake walk in smiling.
"What are you smiling for?" Logan snapped,
"The uprisings are going well on Alina and Klyne. Soon they will be free," Blake said happily,
"Well, as long as strangers win and survive, I guess that it doesn't matter about us. We are expendable," Logan shouted at him,
"Look Logan, I didn't want Roxy to die okay. I do not want anyone to die but in war it happens, you can't change that," Blake retorted,
Logan wanted to hit him but he knew that Blake was right, death does happen, he just had to live with the fact that he had come back, it was so hard to when good people like Roxy are killed. It didn't sit well, he would give his life to save her, she was an innocent but now she was dead. She had once said that life sucks, she was right.
Liza was sat opposite Lomax, she had just finished with Roxy, things weren't going the way she had hoped.
"She is stronger than I thought," Liza admitted,
"I guessed that you were having problems. I could hear her screams down the corridor," Lomax said calmly.
"Roxy is a beta graded electrical engineer. Arrested for no particular crime and placed among a group of rebels, she has no loyalty to them," Liza said to herself.
"Maybe she has got friendly with one of them," Lomax offered,
"No," Liza said dismissively,
"Blake is an idealist, he is in it for the cause only, so is Karla," Liza said to him, she smiled ruefully.
"Something funny?" Lomax questioned,
"Yes, Karla, my dear cousin. With our past it doesn't surprise me that we would be fighting each other, we never did get along," Liza said as she thought back to the times when she used to fight her older cousin in mock battles, Liza won countless times, it always angered Karla. Liza was born on Earth but raised on Auron, unlike Karla she didn't have telepathy. Liza worked on her other skills, ones that were far more rewarding.
"What of the others?" Lomax asked,
Liza looked back at him. | f258a7f0ca174eb1ac754d80c8890379 | ['da5db826ee3a4ee7b8d2d1062a623af2'] | “I was fighting someone named Roxanne Davis, one of Blake’s people,” Liza replied informatively,
“What,” Nixon shouted as he rose out of his chair and walked over to his window,
“I thought that she was dead,” he said, his voice calming down a little,
“As did I sir but that isn’t the worst of it, Kerr Logan is also alive,” Liza reported, her throat dried, she had no idea how he would respond to this news,
Nixon turned to face her, his eyes wide with surprise,
“Logan,” he asked, sounding remarkably calm,
“Yes sir,” his calmness surprised her and scared her,
Nixon returned to his desk and rested his weight upon the table top,
“Is there anything else you need to tell me Liza Ford?”
“No sir,”
“Do we know if Blake is dead or not?” Nixon asked,
“To be certain, no, but if both Roxy and Logan are alive my guess is that Blake could be too,” Liza replied,
“Could Blake be with Logan?” Nixon asked, glaring at her with accusing eyes,
“I do not think so sir, all available security camera vis-discs from the ship yards at Saint Portia indicate that Logan is, or at least could be, working on his own,” Liza answered,
“So they aren’t dead,” Nixon said gravely,
“Just as you suspected, going by what Cory Williams wrote in her report of Operation Freedom,” he added,
“Yes sir,” Liza said with a nod of the head,
“This changes everything,” Nixon said as he sat back,
“Sir?” Liza asked, she wasn’t sure on what Nixon was on about,
“I have supplied quarters for you on deck eight, room thirteen, I want to speak to you again later,” Nixon said in a friendly manner that had Liza asking more questions in her mind, she sensed that Nixon was up to something, she didn’t know what but if she knew Nixon it had to be big,
“Dismissed,” Nixon said before turning his chair around so he could look though his office window.
Liza Ford rose out of her chair, scanned the room for any detector device or one way vision glass but none was to be found, perhaps that feeling of being watched was nothing, Liza took a deep breath and headed to the door, she felt very uncertain and worried, she stepped out of the office and the door closed behind her, suddenly it dawned on her,
“He’s going for the Presidency,” she said under her breath.
Once Liza had departed a secret door to Nixon’s office slid open and a tall man who was in his late fifties entered the room, he was wearing a dark blue uniform and robe that was trimmed with gold embroidery, he walked around the office before sitting down opposite the Supreme Commander,
“Your opinion Carnell?” Nixon asked,
“She is very intelligent, young and strong. Her replies were calm, she never seemed phased by your questioning. I would say that she is the best choice for you, the others that you have spoken to lack her calm demeanour and attention to detail. Liza’s record proves it, she reminds me of a young Servalan. One other thing I noticed is that she seemed aware that I was watching her, she seemed to scan the room at every chance she got. I can say that she also knows what you are planning, although she does not know why it would involve her,” the psycho-strategist said calmly,
“Really? A very big compliment Carnell,” Nixon said with a smile,
“She deserves it Supreme Commander, if you succeed in your attempts which you should do without a doubt, she will be perfect,” Carnell said informatively,
“I hope that you are right Carnell,” Nixon said firmly, threatening the man who probably knew more about him than Nixon would want him to know,
“Trust me Supreme Commander, I am never wrong,” Carnell said with a smile.
The Arien appeared over the planet Merrica Prime and moved into orbit over the green and blue world, Logan rose out of his flight seat as the Slave computer announced,
“THE ARIEN IS NOW IN A ONE THOUSAND SPACIAL ORBIT OF THE PLANET MERRICA PRIME MASTER,”
“Thank you Slave,” Logan said with a smile as he turned to Ironside,
“Send a message to this Chifar, tell him that we are here and we offer any help that we can,” he instructed,
Ironside nodded as he activated the external com channels,
“This is the privateer starship Arien to Chifar, interplanetary minister to Merrica Prime, we are here in response to your emergency call, please respond.” |
66de145aa266464ab616c23aac6be591 | ['da6e5887262948fcb579b1561864cfc9'] | “Don’t we all?” Henry picked up his briefcase and started walking again, smirking, pulling her along. “Guess we’ll have to see.”
It started raining again, very lightly. Soon the river path would be filled with a thick, impenetrable fog, but Henry only felt elated, light-headed, stepping on clouds. He opened up his umbrella and Lizzie huddled up against him. Snuggly, warmth radiating off her. It could storm and rage for all he cared. What difference did the weather make to him, what harm could it cause, when his life was going just so fine?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Hello there! Quick announcement: I'll be moving to a new flat shortly, and I'm also trying to submit a manuscript by February next year. So there are quite a few things that I need to focus at the moment, and I'm afraid this fic won't be a top priority. But I promise I'll still try to post another chapter next month.
>
> Happy Holidays! See you sometime in January (hopefully)! x
5. The Colour of Love
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Red was not her colour, Lizzie decided.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello! Sorry for the long hiatus. The following chapter turned out to be too long, so I've split it in half. Part 2 will come out shortly, so stay tuned.
>
> Click on this LINK if you want to have a rough idea of what Lizzie's dress looks like.
>
>
Red was not her colour, Lizzie decided, spying her reflection on the revolving doors of the hotel lobby. In those sketchy, poorly defined lines, her reflection looked back at her on a red hazy blur, a holy apparition captured on a stained glass window. She usually avoided the colour at all times; she always looked excessively pale against its vibrant sanguine hue. Add that to the red tones underlying her blonde hair, and it only made her look even more like an overripe tomato, a red pepper soup. That evening, Lizzie stepped into the _Mondrian London_ holding onto Henry’s hand and trying not fret about it all.
There was also another problem regarding that colour: she tended to get flustered far too easily. Henry didn’t seem to mind the matching redness on her cheeks, though. If anything, he must find it endearing. Especially as his hands roved over her skin before they dashed off to the party, lips marking a trail of hot kisses along her neck and fingers clutching her waist so tight Lizzie thought her dress would get creased. He certainly didn’t mind the way she blushed bright red as he whispered sweet words into her ear. They sent a thrill along her spine, but Lizzie had denied him her mouth most cruelly. She didn’t want to mess her carefully applied lipstick in a snog session that would probably leave them both disarranged. _Pas sur la bouche,_ she had quipped in French, just before turning her cheek away.
She could see he was nervous that night. He had that look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing, when she knew he was desperately craving anything that might serve as an exhaust valve for his nerves — an addiction: a cigarette, or _her._ Of course it was all too much trouble to risk the smoke lingering on his clothes and ruining the primness of his dinner jacket and black bowtie. His silver cufflinks were spotless, his patent leather shoes, Yves Saint Laurent. On top of everything else, he was wearing his contacts. That evening he was — as once he had put it himself, self-amused and wryly — his businesslike persona: _Henri Sans-Lunettes._
It was the smallest thing, of no consequence whatsoever, but Lizzie loved his glasses dearly. The round metallic frame gave him a slightly eccentric air. The large lenses framed his lively gaze in a way she could almost see his thoughts flitting from place to place. They brought a special clearness to his blue eyes — eyes that wanted to envelop the entirety of the world. Yet, funnily, she loved when he took them off too. The act felt exquisitely intimate and domestic: Henry hopping in the shower, Henry readying himself to sleep, Henry off to bed and taking her with him. A secret, other Henry, which only she was privy to.
Now at the _Mondrian,_ they walked along copper clad walls, long halls filled with mirrors. The hosts had booked the whole hotel’s rooftop bar for the party. Funnily enough, Lizzie didn’t even know what that party was about. She was only realising that now, when, at the coat check, she was fixing her earrings. She could have asked Henry, surely, but it seemed she had opted to fret about her appearance for a whole week instead. It made her feel stupidly vain, but her mother’s comments on her weight gain had lead to a state of half-starvation for the past week. She had cut down on carbs and salt, if only to prevent bloating.
_Are you really just going to have a salad?_ Henry had asked her just the previous day, an inquisitive eyebrow arched just slightly.
_It’s just a queasy stomach,_ she had replied with a tight-lipped smile, though it looked like her answer hadn’t been anywhere near satisfying.
Lizzie pressed her hands to her stomach, smoothing down the silky fabric of her slip dress. She fixed the thin straps on her shoulders and the loose hair strands framing her face and turned to Henry, swallowing down her nerves.
“How do I look?”
A lazy smile crossed his features, his eyes half-clouded and hooded, before he bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. Hand placed on the small of her back, his breath fanned the baby hairs at her temple.
“ _Ravishing_.” | eb07519cd93b414298dbdc2df4adf9e6 | ['da6e5887262948fcb579b1561864cfc9'] |
Christmas Cheer
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> For the Prompt Challenge: A Rosvolio Christmas Miracle
Christmas was just the worst time of the year. All those bright, artificial lights. Plastic decorations hanging from ungodly plastic trees. Crowded shops. Forced cheerfulness and loud carol singing on the streets. It was the most stressful period at work, and no matter how many times Benvolio tried to infect himself with the so-called _C_ _hristmas cheer_ , he just couldn’t swallow down that cheap, consumer-ready happiness. He wished he were a child again, only so he could feel festive once more.
Of course his cousin Romeo loved the holiday — that is, him and his new girlfriend Juliet (A Capulet! Of all people he could choose from, he had to pick a Capulet!). Christmas was a sacred date for those two air-headed love doves, and Benvolio felt almost guilty for souring the mood whenever they dragged him along to one of their dates. He clearly wasn’t over his break-up with Stella yet, and were she to spend the holidays with him, then perhaps things would be a whole lot different.
One thing was certain, though: Stella sure would help with the disapproving look his uncle was likely to give him that Christmas. Benvolio had somehow acquired the reputation of being a ladies man, that is, he was all fun but no commitment. He would — again — bring no guests over to dinner, an occasion in which his uncle not so subtly boasted about the family’s enterprises over the year. Romeo was an expert in dissociating during said occasions. It was easy for him. He just had to gaze lovingly into the eyes of his girlfriend and blissfully ignore his father’s ramblings. Not Benvolio, not him. Benvolio had to sit in silence and sulk and suffer during the whole course of the dinner.
There was only one person Benvolio knew who hated Christmas as much as him: Juliet’s cousin, Rosaline. It had come as a surprise to him. Actually, everything that Rosaline did came as a surprise to him. Some days before Christmas, the couple had invited them to join their day trip to Padua. Misty, white city in the winter, not too far from Verona. Knowing his cousin, it all stank of a set-up fit for a romcom movie. But Benvolio had gone along with their plan for a different reason entirely: it had been too long since he had visited Padua’s early renaissance cathedrals.
He had no idea why Rosaline had accepted the invite, though. Especially because she made it very clear during their trip, as they crossed Italy’s largest piazza, that she wasn’t looking for anyone to date at the moment. Or ever. Something about considering taking up _holy orders_.
“A nun!” He had exclaimed, almost sputtering in laughter. Just because he wasn’t interested in Rosaline whatsoever it didn’t mean he couldn’t at least have some fun. “Really, Capulet? On this day in the year of our Lord 2018?”
“Don’t you mock my faith, Montague.” Voice strained, eyes squinting mercilessly at him. “You think I didn’t see you all but crying in that little chapel back there?” Spiteful, triumphant smirk. “You’re worse than me when it comes to unconventional interests.”
He tried to let that snide pass. _Tried_. “You know it’s not some common _little_ _chapel_ , right? That Giotto fresco is a landmark in Western art history, not to mention one of the earliest examples of renaissance art! The ultramarine pigment Giotto used had not—”
He heard yawning, and turned in time to see her mocking smile. “Keep talking, Montague. It won’t change the fact that you’re _boring_.”
God, but she was infuriating! Tart as a lemon pie, Rosaline Capulet was a harpy of a woman. So one could only imagine Benvolio’s frustration to get stuck in that city with her. His cousin and his girlfriend had vanished all of a sudden, and twenty minutes later Benvolio received a text saying they had gone ahead and got on a train back to Verona. Rosaline squinted his eyes at him, suspiciously, but they immediately rushed to the station together. Alas, it was to no avail. No trains were circulating anymore. A thick fog had descended on the region, and a snowstorm had started just on the outskirts of the city. For safety reasons, as the Trenitalia agent explained to them, they would have to sit and wait.
So they waited. For _hours_. Neither were in the mood for chatting pleasantries, so they just plopped down to their chairs in silence and tried to pretend the wind somehow blowing through the station was no bother at all. Teeth-chattering? Never heard of it! The animal, mindless urge to just snuggle up to the next person for warmth? Non-existent! Benvolio bounced his legs so much, he thought his muscles would strain. From time to time he stood up and just jumped up and down trying to get rid of the shiver running down his spine. He suspected Rosaline did much the same whenever she went out to do one of her rounds.
It was absurdly late when they finally gave up and decided to rent a room. The problem was, because the holidays were coming up in just a few days, only the city’s most expensive hotel had rooms available for the night. The bigger problem was: between Rosaline and himself, they only had enough money for one room. Rosaline rolled her eyes and muttered a _“oh for fuck’s sake”_ under her breath, but the receptionist was quick enough to add that there was a spare bed they could take up to their room. Would they like to use it?
“YES!” They said in unison, almost shouting over the poor receptionist. |
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