query_id stringlengths 4 64 | query_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | query_text stringlengths 66 72.1k | candidate_id stringlengths 5 64 | candidate_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | candidate_text stringlengths 9 101k |
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07f0e329a87b4b099d6b57b71b9c967b | ['da7ddc5cc3834594b2265369abe6a86f'] | “Part of me still wants to run away,” he admitted. A pause, and then he grabbed her wrist gently, turning to look at her. Their faces were inches apart. “Wants us to run away. To go and just pretend this isn’t happening.”
“Where would we go?” she asked weakly.
“There are uncharted lands,” he suggested.
Chantari chuckled. “You’re incorrigible, King Wrynn.”
He shuddered, gripping her wrist tighter. He wanted her. It was no longer a case of need, of needing to feel human warmth, of needing that closeness only sex provided. No, he wanted her. He wanted to enjoy it, not rush it, make her entirely his—
Chantari ducked down into a low crouch and he was alert instantly. Anya’s head perked up and she stood up, guarding her mate. Even his ears weren’t that sensitive, but he watched the look come over her face. “How close?” he asked.
“Close enough,” she murmured, grabbing her short-bow from where she’d stored it. “Two,” she whispered, following the way through the trees. She swore, the beast fur was limiting her movement—“Useless piece of junk-“ She muttered, letting it fall to the floor.
He wanted to laugh that she would fight orcs naked, yet he felt worried. She had no protection if she and he were not quick enough. There was no protection when branches whipped at her, when brambles caught on her skin. Anya ran beside her, much quicker than he was, their footfalls much softer.
Eventually she stopped, hiding behind a tree to listen. He paused further off, able to crouch behind a rock and move around the orcs. They were stood on an overlook, a camp fire between them, and the very river that she’d just been bathing in passing below them. Varian crept down, quietly, quietly, careful of his heavy plated boots, to listen to their conversation from below them.
He’d learned a lot more orcish since hunting with her, she often liked to observe them, as if they were animals in a zoo or something. There was always a look of disgust upon her face. He remembered one incident when they’d been picking up fresh ‘slaves’, Orcs who’d gone into hiding with some blood elves and night elves. She’d gone into a blind rage, killing every last one of Garrosh’s followers until he’d had to stop her—there had been children, she’d screamed, children! It made her sick, Garrosh made her sick. She wanted nothing more than to stick an arrow through his fat neck and—
“The alliance bitch is going to fall soon,” one of the orcs snickered. “We need to hurry and reach Ratchet. I don’t want to miss this.”
The other sighed deeply. “Doesn’t it seem underhanded?”
“You questionin’ the warchief?”
“No,” the second said, though sounding very defensive about it. “But a spy, a human, working with us-“ Chantari watched the Orc squint.
“Not his fault he’s human,” the first snorted. “But at least he knows the winning side. Worked out, too, dinnit?He put that plan into her head, lure her and her army to Stranglethorn,” he wheezed out a laugh.
Jaina, they were talking about Jaina. Chantari edged closer. The first one was a monster, but the second—he would speak, he was weak. She’d tortured orcs before, made them tell her their plans, where their supplies were—where they were getting prisoners from next. They all spoke easy and this would be no exception.
She let out a low whistle, knocking an arrow and loosing it through the neck of the first Orc. Anya had sprung onto his body before it had fallen, and before the second orc could draw his axe, her bow was pointed at him, and Varian had a sword at his back.
“You really shouldn’t come into my territory,” She breathed, almost laughing at how theatrical Anya was being by ripping into the corpse. The orc looked disgusted, yet unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. “That’s your fate if you don’t talk.”
“If I tell you anything that’s my fate anyway,” he spat. “Elven bitch.”
Chantari laughed, letting an arrow go into his thigh. He went for his axe again, but Varian had already kicked it away. “The lady wants you to speak,” he murmured.
The orc stared at him, his eyes eventually going wide—“You! How is it possible…?”
“I’m asking the questions,” Chantari said loudly, moving closer to him. “Who is the spy on Jaina’s council? What’s happening in Stranglethorn?”
The Orc kept his eyes on Varian.
“Look,” She frowned, grabbing the orcs face and turning it to face her. “You know what Garrosh is, right? A monster. We want to stop him, if you can help us save Jaina-“
“I won’t.”
The elf paused, glancing at Anya. She let out another low whistle, and the great tigress turned her attention to the live orc, slowly advancing on him, her tongue licking at her blood covered muzzle.
“You—she wouldn’t—that’s inhumane!”
“Like taking slaves who are children?!” she muttered. “Tell us and she won’t hurt you.”
He remained silent, so she let another arrow into his thigh. Anya didn’t hesitate, going for the other leg and sinking her teeth in. He howled in pain, and Varian could only watch, more in awe of her than the actual scene. Here she was, nakedly torturing an orc for information. He’d never wanted her more, never needed her more. | eed88fb3d6974c3280d083a992765b87 | ['da7ddc5cc3834594b2265369abe6a86f'] | “Oh, Harry,” I said gently, managing to pull myself up when Luna offered the one mauling me some meat. “I should have told you—so you weren’t shocked… they can only be seen by people who’ve seen death.”
Realisation dawned on his face. “You both…?”
“My mum,” Luna said simply. “She was experimenting one day—it went horribly wrong.”
“I’m sorry-“ Harry frowned.
“Yes, it was quite awful.”
He gave me a look. She didn’t sound sad, but, that was just Luna in a nutshell. I shrugged at him, patting off some of the dirt from my legs. “My grandfather. He was in hospital when I was young, he died while Felix and I were sitting with him. I don’t even remember it that well, but,” I shrugged. “They’re very misunderstood creatures.”
I cut off when I heard Zeus call out. I laughed, unable to stop myself. “I’m sorry, but I believe my son is hungry. I’ll see you later, Harry?” I smiled at him, hurrying through the threes to find Zeus. The urge to never go back was so tempting. To just… live in the forest. I wondered if I could survive it, but the centaurs would probably evict me before any teachers could. Still, it was an amusing thought.
George and Fiona were closer than ever. She had some good ideas for their products and was helping a lot with the counter spells to stop nose bleeds or remove black eyes. I think he found it quite amusing that she was happily helping as head girl, and didn’t mind if they tested on first years, when Hermione always had a heart attack over them doing it. Her reply was simply that if they were being upfront about it to the first years, then they were doing nothing wrong.
They became the butt of Fred and I’s jokes, though, because they were so ‘fluffy’ together. Honestly, he was like a whole new man around her. If he hadn’t been so damn happy I probably would have found the whole thing quite disgusting. They were always holding hands, and she would always stare at him with these huge doe eyes that I sincerely hoped I didn’t get when I looked at Fred. Still, sometimes it was difficult to be around them. They were so happy it only seemed to remind me of my situation, and Fred didn’t like it too much either.
It seemed that his twins’ fully functioning and healthy relationship had caused him to come to come realisations about his relationship with Angelina. And, as such, the pair were arguing ceaselessly, and worse than he and I had done last year. I wasn’t sure what they argued about, and it was always after Fred had been with George and Fiona, but, the arguments were so explosive that by the time Angelina stormed up to her room in tears, everyone in Gryffindor tower was aware of it.
I felt kind of bad for her, because she didn’t really seem to understand what she’d done wrong. I could understand his initial anger at her, for not being understanding of his situation over the holidays, but, this was too much anger for it to be just that. I wanted to ask Fred what had happened to cause him to be so angry, and I wanted to ask her, too, curious if he’d done something to make her argue with him. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, knowing that if I asked them, they’d expect some response that was probably akin to advice, and I knew I couldn’t give them proper advice. I could try, but if their breakup came as a result from it, I would feel awful.
Still, I hated the arguing. It made them both unhappy and neither of them deserved to be in such a horrible relationship. I wanted to suggest that they both sit down and talk it out, but, I never did. Fred never asked me about it either and for that I was glad.
They weren’t much better during Quidditch practices either. Ron, who was our new keeper, hadn’t quite understood the scope of their arguing yet, and so when the pair had begun arguing near the end of our first practice, he’d flown closer to George and me, absolutely confused. Especially when the both of us were staring quite boredly at the scene.
“Maybe you should break it up?”
“Nah,” George shrugged. “They’ll figure it out, and if they don’t, well, they don’t.”
“You think he’d just break up with her,” Ron frowned.
“It’s not exactly easy to break up with someone, Ron,” I pointed out. “He likes her.”
“Does he?” George murmured. “I’m not sure if he does anymore. I haven’t heard her say a good thing about her recently.”
It was true, if Fred spoke about her now, it was all negative. I didn’t listen to most of it. Angelina had been a good friend to me before all of this had happened, and I knew she wasn’t a bad person. I knew he wasn’t either—he just didn’t seem to do well at processing and handling his emotions. Last year when he and I had argued, and now him and Angelina—I wondered who would be next, and I sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to yell at George. Of course, they had fights, but they always made up quickly, but I wasn’t sure if even their bond would be able to handle arguments every day. |
568131d202004d32bfc9993f0f8c0a2b | ['da7e5813a29e4591b0377c675e65d231'] | silent night (record scratch, record scratch, drop the bass)
**Author's Note:**
> big bang attempt to record a hip-hop christmas album at yg's behest. it goes about as well as you'd expect. written for advent. originally posted at LINK.
"I can't believe they're making us sell out like this," Seungri's wailing.
"After all the crap we've had to do in the past six years, recording a Christmas album is where you draw the line?" Daesung asks, incredulous. "Okay, maknae."
Youngbae frowns down at the list of workable songs Jiyong hands him. "Is this supposed to be a free-for-all? Did sajangnim even say what he wanted?"
"No, just that your rendition of Feliz Navidad was awful and we weren't allowed to touch it," Jiyong says, grinning when Youngbae punches him in the shoulder. "Ow, fuck. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. All he said was that we're supposed to try doing hip-hop and R&B renditions of English-language Christmas songs. So you know this can only end in disaster."
Daesung raises his eyebrows. "Why do you look so happy about it?"
"I want to see what Seunghyun comes up with."
"What I come up with for what?" Seunghyun bursts into the studio, pageboy hat askew. He shrugs off his puffy jacket and hangs it over a chair.
"You're late," they chorus.
"Hi, hyung," Seungri adds.
"No, really," Seunghyun says. "Why am I here? The apocalypse is tomorrow."
Youngbae brandishes the song list at Seunghyun, who takes it, brow furrowed.
"What is this?"
"Yang-goon floated the idea of a Christmas cover album at the meeting this afternoon," Jiyong explains. "Hip-hop style, for the fan contingent."
Seunghyun rubs his chin. "What exactly does that entail? Like, _yo, Santa, swag, swag, check_? Does he really think there's a market for that? _Deck the halls with boughs of holly, boom shakalaka, shakalaka_? Why are you all laughing?"
"No reason," Jiyong says, struggling to breathe. "Keep going, though, this is gold."
Ply Seunghyun with enough soju and he'll do just about anything, within reason—reason being: 1) no removal of clothing, and 2) don't fucking test him on number one. Everything else is fair game, though, which is why when Teddy walks in to lock up for the night, it's to Seunghyun drunkenly singing _ooh, Santa, 'cause you'll always be my baby_ to Mariah Carey's seminal classic, with Seungri and Daesung filling in the _doo doo doo dum_ s.
"We're all going to hell, you know," Youngbae's saying, as Jiyong tries to set some of their terrible freestyle to a dubstep version of The Little Drummer Boy.
"At least I'll have you there with me," Jiyong says solemnly.
"Yo, don't you know it's the end of the world?" Teddy calls over the noise. Jiyong shuts the music off and Seunghyun yelps into the microphone with protest. "What are you guys still doing here?"
"Recording Christmas covers, like sajangnim asked," says Youngbae.
Teddy sends him a weird look. "He scratched that idea—"
"Of course he did," Daesung mutters.
"—apparently there are too many of those floating around already," he finishes.
"What a waste," Seungri says, and manages to keep a straight face for about two seconds before he bursts into laughter, his cheeks still flushed red from the alcohol.
"I guess you could always try to convince him otherwise," Teddy says dubiously. "What do you have so far?"
"It's all crap," Jiyong admits.
"I'm hurt," Seunghyun says, plopping down into the chair next to Youngbae's, hand pressed to his chest.
"It'd make a good cautionary Christmas present," Youngbae suggests, voice dry. "Never release a YGE holiday cover album because this is what it would sound like."
Teddy hits the space bar and listens to the first few bars of their bastardized version of The Christmas Song, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's like a Skrillex album and a Nat King Cole album had a devil child," Seunghyun says, grimacing.
"You know, this isn't half bad," Teddy remarks.
"You're joking, right?" Jiyong waves a hand in his face. "I think you've been in this rut for too long, man, it's messed up your ability to discern—"
"Hey, shut up," Teddy says casually. "Good hip-hop Christmas songs exist, you just need to hit on the right combo—"
"Of what?" Daesung asks. "Heartwarming and badass and ridiculous?"
There's a lull in the conversation and Seungri's voice floats in from the recording booth, his nasally falsetto of _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ breaking through the silence.
"Yeah, okay, maybe not," Teddy says hastily. Daesung's shaking his head and Seunghyun's shaking with laughter, face buried in his arms. "Moment of weakness, sorry."
Jiyong starts downloading the half-finished tracks onto his phone, anyway. "They'll make a good alarms."
"More like good blackmail material," Youngbae points out.
"Please," Jiyong says. "Like I need any more of that."
Seunghyun lifts his head off the desk after a long moment, brow furrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?" | a4891d2369e74451a704a02ef3b56572 | ['da7e5813a29e4591b0377c675e65d231'] |
let's go west
**Author's Note:**
> ferris bueller's day off/sunset glow au. set circa 2007, though the boys' ages have been fudged a little for consistency's sake. apologies for errors re: south korean schooling, i kind of played that fast and loose. written for advent. originally posted at LINK.
Youngbae's voice echoes down the line when he finally picks up on the other end. He coughs twice and barks out a scratchy "What do you want?" like he's trying to pierce Jiyong's eardrums straight through the speakerphone.
Jiyong blinks and adjusts his tie in the mirror. "Hey. Get up and come over."
"I'm sick, man."
Jiyong rolls his eyes. "No, you're not."
Youngbae coughs again, pointedly.
"Don't be such a drama queen," Jiyong says, and ignores the indignant sputters he receives in response.
"I'm dying," Youngbae says after a moment. Jiyong can hear the sullen frown in his voice.
"You aren't dying," he counters smoothly. "You just can't think of anything good to do." He grins into the mirror. "Luckily, you've got me."
Youngbae and Seunghyun have two months left before college entrance exams, which means it's the best time to skip school for a day. This is what Jiyong says, at least, when he opens his front door and Youngbae's slouched against the wall, bags beneath his eyes from studying too much.
"What are you planning?" Youngbae asks, rubbing his face. Jiyong pours him a glass of orange juice and slides it over the kitchen table.
"Just a couple of small things," Jiyong says vaguely. "Eat your breakfast."
"You want to _what_?" Seungri hisses, waving them into the spacious living room of his house and slamming the door shut behind them.
"Your parents are out of town, right?" Jiyong says, arm slung over Youngbae's shoulder, piece of toast still hanging out of his mouth.
"So you want to steal my dad's Bentley? Are you crazy? That thing is his baby—"
"I like to think of it more as temporary appropriation," Jiyong replies, grinning. "You know where the keys are, don't you?"
Seungri looks torn. "That's not the point."
Jiyong narrows his eyes. "Hey, I'm sure the high school would be interested in knowing that one of their first-years was playing hooky just because his parents weren't around."
"But—what—neither of you are there today either," Seungri sputters.
"True," Jiyong says, tilting his head, "but we also aren't about to break ten unexcused absences like you are."
Seungri goes pale as a sheet. "How did you—"
"Never mind," Jiyong says cheerily. "Keys?"
"Why are you dressed like that, anyway?" Seungri says in the garage, watching nervously as Jiyong pops the top off the convertible.
Jiyong hops into the driver's seat and leans over to adjust his tie again in the rearview mirror. "I'm gonna go pick Seunghyun up."
"How are you going to manage that?" Youngbae asks dubiously, eyebrows cocked high.
"The key," Jiyong insists, "is confidence."
The front desk receptionist is nearly in tears by the time Jiyong's finished spinning his tale of woe. "I'll get Seunghyun-sshi straightaway," she says, pressing a hand against her chest.
"There's no hurry," Jiyong says, voice haggard. "I'll be waiting out by the car."
"Nice ride," Seunghyun says when he comes out, backpack slung over a shoulder, school uniform buttoned up all the way. "Which story did you use?"
"Your dad was mauled by a tiger while out on assignment," Jiyong says cheerfully. "I'm a distant cousin who came to collect you for the funeral."
Seunghyun rolls his eyes. "What's the real occasion?"
"How could we possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?" he asks, and opens the passenger's seat for him.
Seunghyun slides in against the red leather seat, impressed. "I didn't know you had a driver's license."
"Technically, I don't," Jiyong admits, gunning the engine. "Don't tell Seungri."
Daesung's materialized in Seungri's living room when they get back. He's lounging on the couch and sipping a cup of tea as they walk in, swapping soccer news with Youngbae.
"How did you get out?" Jiyong asks, shrugging his suit jacket off and loosening his tie. Seunghyun goes to the bathroom to change out of his school clothes. "We were going to retrieve you next."
"I have my ways," Daesung says, waggling his eyebrows. "So. Where are we going?"
"West," says Jiyong.
They pack two bags and stow them in the backseat, with Seungri squashed in between Daesung and Youngbae. It takes them an hour to get out of the city—and then it's smooth sailing straight to the beach, sun beating down from overhead, the wind almost blowing Jiyong's wide-brimmed straw hat off at every hairpin turn.
"Hey, look," Jiyong says at one point, putting his arms up and stretching as they cruise. "No hands."
Seungri yelps and shoves his shoulder. "Hyung, what the fuck—"
"We're all going to die," Youngbae mutters.
They make it to the Yellow Sea before noon, park the car, air out blankets, and pitch an umbrella for shade. It's a weekday morning, so most of the people out on the beach are foreigners, parents with little kids, and old men playing long games of go. "I feel like a delinquent," Seungri whines.
Jiyong rolls his eyes. "You're the one who wanted to come with us because we were taking your dad's car. _Didn't want to miss out on the fun_ , you said."
"I was under duress!"
Seunghyun snorts. "You might as well enjoy the sun while you're here."
Daesung flings a wad of seaweed at Seungri and narrowly misses, which begins a fierce four-way battle (to the shock and dismay of all the tourists in their general vicinity) that doesn't end until Youngbae comes back with five sodas. |
f807e2b35300479fb7101ca95dc8adea | ['da9d2f6658ce47699b98e9832d037005'] | There were lots of comments surrounding the blonde right now and Midoriya could tell how much Bakugou hated the attention -- he used to love being the center of attention but he hated being pressed so much. Slamming his fists on the wooden table, he let out a loud groan and yelled, “FUCK OFF!!” Causing all of them to flinch and finally leave him alone. _ Thank-fucking-god. _
“Is this kid even allowed to drink? Hey, Hizashi!” A woman in her early 30’s called out, her blue eyes glancing from Bakugou to the other blonde there seated at the counter, a glass of alcohol in hand. “Are you sure you poured Caprisun and not alcohol? This kid looked like a minor!”
“Shut the fuck up, hag!” Bakugou retorted, clenching his fist and tried to stand up but he was restrained by Midoriya, “I am 24! Twenty-fucking-four!” But the woman only laughed and replied with a “Stingy”, much to Bakugou’s annoyance. The latter figured he shouldn’t waste more of his energy and down the drink he was given in one go, surprising both the lady and Midoriya.
“K-Kacchan, don’t drink too much-” The green-haired male said but he was cut off by Bakugou saying, “Fuck off, Deku, you don’t tell me what to fucking do, useless bastard.”
“I’m so sorry, Nemuri.” Midoriya apologized at the blue-eyed lady, bowing his head as he did so. Nemuri only laughed and stood up, patting Midoriya on the shoulder, “He seems like a handful.” She said and he nodded in agreement, to which Bakugou cussed at profusely.
“Well, I’m heading out early tonight.” Nemuri announced and the rest of the people in the saloon greeted her a good night and bid their goodbyes. Bakugou didn’t know her enough so he just had his glass refilled and downed it once again. He lost track of how many glasses he had consumed, all he knew is that he’s _ really fucking drunk. _
* * *
Bakugou Katsuki woke up the next morning with a sickening headache. He was on a bed and was shirtless, and he _ reeked _ of fucking alcohol. Groaning at the bullshit he did, he didn’t even wonder how many did he drink and searched for the bathroom to clean himself up. Once he’s tidy and wide awake, he walked out of the bathroom and noticed that Midoriya was nowhere to be found and it was six in the fucking morning. _ Where could Deku be at this time of hour… _
Grabbing a clean shirt from his duffle bag, he put it on, and decided to head out for a short walk to ease his mind. Though drunk, the hangover wasn’t much of a pain to deal with, and wondered if the alcohol he consumed was different from the ones he used to drink all the time in the city. One thing he noticed was that his headache wasn’t as severe as the ones he used to have and he woke up pretty much refreshed here in the countryside rather than in the city. He’d hate to admit that though.
He finally reached for the doorknob and was greeted by the gentle sunlight that kissed his slightly pale skin. He loved mornings but he hated waking up at this hour in the city especially when he was woken with an alarm clock. He shook the thought off of his head and ruffled his hair, his feet leading him outside the cabin.
The cabin was located on a small portion in the mountains. There was a path leading further north but it was blocked by fences. Trees loomed over the cabin, making the breeze extra chilly especially at six in the morning. Bakugou felt the forest vibes this place had and he was somehow thankful that he took the desert though it was a fucking hassle to get over to the other side. Birds hummed and sang happy songs, the trees danced along the cool breeze, there were butterflies as it was Spring… the place was lively though the only one probably living up here was Midoriya.
And speaking of Midoriya, he was still nowhere to be found. “Where the fuck…” Bakugou muttered under his breath and noticed a small pathway leading deeper and deeper into the forest. It looked like it had been walked on for at least a few years that no stray weed grew on it, so he followed it out of pure instinct. More trees loomed over Bakugou’s figure as he followed the path further, and what lied at the end was a small clear land.
Midoriya was there.
Planting and watering crops.
“What the fuck are you doing at six in the fucking morning, dipshit?” Bakugou’s voice startled Midoriya a bit, causing him to let go of the watering can he was holding. “K-Kacchan! I didn’t think you’d be awake this early…” He said in a surprised voice, a small smile appearing upon his freckled features. Bakugou looked at the crops and stepped a little closer, “Me neither.” He replied and stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his pants.
“You usually wake up at this hour?” The blonde asked, to which the other nodded, “I have to so I can water my crops. And it’s not really hard to wake up at this hour regardless of how late you slept during the night.”
“Huh…” Bakugou exhaled and looked up, eyes looking far ahead, probably at the distant mountains and clouds, but a certain question popped up in his mind and he knew he couldn’t shake it off no matter what. “Hey, dipshit, how did you end up in this place?” | 752243a0fb964fe589a01bfb6d8b6808 | ['da9d2f6658ce47699b98e9832d037005'] | When he woke up again, he didn’t see a gray-colored ceiling but rather, a brown-colored one, made out of wood. Blinking a few times, he scanned the room with his tired eyes and he saw not much furniture, but one thing’s for sure, he wasn’t in his room again in the city.
This place was something else.
“Good morning, I see you awake now.”
Sharply, Bakugou sat up and turned to the doorway of the room where he saw her standing, that same girl from yesterday with the weird hair and big hazel eyes. “You were passed out near the shore with a lot of canned beer around you. I was worried as to what happened, are you feeling dizzy? Need something?”
_ “Or rather – He passed us – _ __
_ The Dews drew quivering and chill – _ __
_ For only Gossamer, my Gown – _ _
_ __ My Tippet – only Tulle –”
Both Bakugou and the girl were surprised when Bakugou recited that verse from the poem that he heard from her yesterday. The girl’s eyes were a little wider than it already was. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, as if to say something but quickly shut the words that were about to come out.
“Quit it with that fucking face already.” Bakugou said, groaning at the sudden headache that seeped in. He put a hand on his head and closed his eye for a little while, “ _ Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson. _ That’s the shitty poem, isn’t it?”
“It’s not shitty!” The girl retorted,, eyebrows creasing in an upset manner. “It’s beautiful!”
“Ah, just shut up, Angel-Face. Where the fuck am I anyway?”
“You’re in my cabin. You were pretty wasted last night when I found you, too.”
Bakugou stared at her for a little while and finally swung his legs to the side of the bed, standing up and grabbing his jacket that was on the headboard. “You could have left me there to die alone, but fuck it. I’m leaving.”
“Already? But I made hangover soup.” The woman pouted a little, looking at Bakugou as he passed by her. “I don’t fucking care about your hangover soup, it probably tastes like shit anyway, I don’t want it. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t look like you’re fine just a few minutes ago, though. You looked like you were having a bad dream.” She mumbled but unfortunately for her, he heard and turned to look at her. “And you were mentioning Deku-kun’s name, too.”
The confusion that he was already feeling doubled and even tripled. That was… a dream? That one with Sayoko, her secretary, and the middle school class reunion, and getting wasted with shitty Deku? Bakugou’s eyebrows creased, he couldn’t tell which one is real and which one is not anymore.
5. shambles
“How did you know Deku?” Bakugou asked as he turned to look at this woman he still didn’t know the name of. The brunette stumbled a little at the sudden proximity of their bodies, faces, precisely. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead and she thought for a minute she was being interrogated for a murder case.
“W-Well…” She trailed, averting her gaze somewhere else, “Deku-kun arrived here three years ago, he works as a farmer… And he’s helped a lot of us in a lot of ways, too!” The blonde scrutinized her to which she felt greatly nervous and conscious of her facial features. “I can lead you back to his cabin, if you’d like.”
“No thank you.” He quickly replied and turned away, heading to the front door, “I don’t need your help.” She followed him to the front door and watched him put on his shoes, asking, “You sure you don’t want to eat anything before you leave?”
“Listen here, angel-face-”
“It’s Ochako.”
“Does it look like I fucking care?” Bakugou asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what came over you last night that you moved me in your fucking cabin on your fucking bed, but I don’t like it. Don’t talk to me again, I will beat the shit out of you. Mind your own business next time.” And with that, the blonde opened the door and left.
“He really can’t say a simple _ thank you, _ can he?” Ochako wondered to herself and rolled her eyes, mildly pissed at the attitude she got from him after she let him in her cabin for the night. He could have been taken away by the waves if he were to stay near the seashore for long. Not to mention, he was passed out due to drinking too much. “...That guy has drinking issues…”
Around the same time, Yaoyoruzu Momo was tending to the flowers she planted right outside her house that she shared with her friend, Kyouka Jirou, when she noticed Midoriya pass by with a fishing rod. Without needing a second guess, she knew he’d be out fishing this day. “Midoriya-san! Good morning!” She greeted, catching the green-haired man’s attention. Instantly, Midoriya’s face lit up with delight and he waved;
“Good morning, Yaoyoruzu-san!” He greeted back, setting the pail down on the ground before walking towards her to have a brief conversation, it seemed. Momo smiled wider when she saw him approaching, and she set the watering can she was holding. “You’re out fishing again, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking of making some sushi when I get home after fishing. I missed eating them. Do you want some when I make them? I’m sure there’ll be enough for me and for a few of our other friends.” Midoriya suggested, keeping his smile and Momo imagined him as a little kid, excited to go fish with his father in an early morning. It was a delightful reverie, but she snapped out of it quick. |
761683f126b040b4a345d33a621336cf | ['dab414007cb745df887d076884df4769'] |
Good Boy
**Author's Note:**
> Hi everyone!
> The idea of this came to me when listening to Corrin's Japanese voice (on FE Warriors) because it's very cute, and perky. Plus, his floofy hair has always reminded me of some kind of puppy, so I couldn't help myself.
>
> It's nothing too extreme, on the kink aspect. Just a little bit of dirty talking.
>
> Enjoy~
You cup his cheek gently and smile down at him- a warm smile that he mirrors unabashedly.
“You’re such a good boy,” You murmur, unable to tear your eyes from his. You stroke your thumb across his cheekbone, gazing through your eyelashes. Hearing this, his lips part gently and he exhales, a surprised and excited little sigh that asks you to continue. His eyes do not leave yours.
You chuckle slightly, your grin widening. “You really do look like a little puppy, you know that?” At these words, he’s practically glowing. “The way you’re looking at me. You’re like a little puppy, looking up at his owner.”
His cheeks now bright pink, he momentarily breaks your gaze, looking down at your thumb stroking his cheek. He then tilts his head and slips your thumb into his mouth, returning his gaze to yours, now sucking gently on your finger.
_ Fuck, _ You can’t help but inhale in surprise, _ he’s so good. He’s such a good boy. _
You give him more of what he wants, and position your hand so that your pointer finger and your middle finger are brushing against his lip, teasing the entrance of his mouth. You can practically hear his thoughts, how he’s begging for you to let him suck on your fingers.
But alas, you can’t help yourself. You take several moments to admire him, your boy, as you ever-so-gently take his bottom lip between your fingers, stroking it just for the sake of feeling its softness.
Corrin gazes forward, clearly unable to process his thoughts properly, and then up at you. The sight alone is enough to send you to ecstasy. His cheeks red, his eyes glazed over, his mouth open.
He can’t help himself. On his own, he opens his mouth just enough to slide his tongue between your fingers, desperate for the feeling that you’re teasing him with.
A mere look is enough to put him in his place. You raise your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side slightly, a look that, without words, expresses the idea of, “do you really want to do that?”
Corrin behaves and holds his tongue, yet as he is still desperate, he continues to beg silently with his eyes, unable to tear his gaze from yours. Just a for a second is all he needs. He just needs the feeling. The feeling of something in his mouth for him to suckle on.
The poor thing is too cute like this. You don’t have it in you to be cruel any longer. Your stern expression becomes a warm one, as you find yourself grinning down at the boy in front of you, who looks like he may cry. With your other hand, you cup the side of his cheek, and he leans into it. He’s starved for affection. His lips part once more, and you concede.
Caressing him with one hand, you slide your fingers between his lips and into his mouth. His eyes suddenly shining bright, he practically breaks, and begins sliding and swirling his tongue all around your two fingers, his eyes nearly rolled back into his head. He sucks your fingers, his head moving in a particularly obscene way that brings a blush to your own cheeks. Watching him is like porn. He’s like a living, breathing wet dream.
You sigh, suddenly feeling an ache between your legs. The hand cupping his cheek slides behind his head, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, the entire situation becoming dirtier each second. Corrin can’t help but be noisy; he moans around your fingers and squeezes his legs together, visibly hard. He does not touch himself- not without permission at least. Anyone could tell by how he twists his hips, his legs nearly shaking, becoming weaker each second. Seeing the newfound bulge between his legs only confirms the previous aches you felt between your own, and you suddenly decide that this isn’t enough.
To his horror, you suddenly remove your fingers from his mouth and, from the edge of the bed where you had been sitting, you slide all the way back, laying against the headboard. Corrin, still kneeling at the end on the ground, stares at you in confusion.
You smile fondly and pat your own body, gesturing him forward.
“Come here, puppy.”
He practically perks up, like an actual dog, and crawls onto the bed towards you, stopping when he is holding himself up directly on top of you. You don’t admit it, but the sight of him doing this, a gesture that visually contradicts all of your play involving him a begging mess, makes your heart skip.
You gaze at the bulge between his legs, quite large after all the finger-sucking beforehand, and gently trail a finger along it. Corrin visibly shivers and exhales, waiting desperately for your next word.
“Hold yourself up, with your elbows at either side of my body.” You gently order, a small grin decorating your face. He is already doing this, so he merely shifts his body slightly, preparing for however long he’s required to hold this position. “Good,” you praise him, and he meets your eyes with a genuine smile, glad to have done something to please you.
You smile at him, appreciating his obedience, and gently order him, “take it out.” | e411d18dbf544c7a9b77626f56ea092c | ['dab414007cb745df887d076884df4769'] |
Bad Dreams
Nighttime had come again in the London Institute. Most nights were quiet and peaceful; Will left his window open to hear the dull buzz of the crickets and to feel the chilly breeze that blew the dark curtains. However, even as the nights appeared to be pleasant, Will’s subconscious was not.
The runed boy tossed and turned in his sleep, his dark eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a small, thin line. His lean body glistened with sweat as his heart rate was anything but steady; he struggled to breathe and small whimpers escaped his lips.
Will’s nightmares were frequent and very similar. He stood alone in a very dark, unusual expanse of nothingness. The familiarity of it all caused his stomach to twist and turn; he knew this dream and how it was going to end. If he had any control of himself, he’d turn and run away.
However, his legs moved on their own accord. He couldn’t stop himself from proceeding through the foggy abyss, toward a soft, flickering light. He knew right away what the light source was and where it was illuminating. This nightmare was one of his worst.
Unable to stop, a dimly lit bedroom faded into existence, a small candle casting soft shadows onto the floor and walls. Even if he hadn’t seen the violin resting on the nightstand or the soft, silvery hair upon the pillow, Will recognized the room immediately. He spent most nights sitting on the edge of his parabatai’s bed, discussing whatever was on his mind with his companion as the hours passed with ease.
In this scene, though, James was asleep without the company of his companion. The shadowhunter slept so peacefully that Will almost forgot the permanent outcome of this nightmare. Will was frozen in place just outside of Jem’s room, watching him breathe softly and hearing the quiet _tick-tock_ of his clock that hung on the wall. His heart fluttered and he felt very anxious as he was unable to take just two steps into Jem’s bedroom.
Then it happened; the unchangeable event that haunted Will’s dreams nearly every night. Jem awoke with a start, jerking into a sitting position and doubling over, his entire body convulsing as he was racked with coughs. Even from far away, Will could see the fever reddening Jem’s cheeks and squeezing tears from his eyes. If it weren’t just that, Jem seemed to be trying to call out for someone. In between the horrible hacking and the ceaseless trembling of his skinny body, Jem’s hoarse voice croaked only one name: _Will._
It was terrible; Will felt as if he were nailed to the floor, forced to watch Jem suffer and cry. What made it all worse was that his parabatai was hoping- no, _expecting_ \- that Will would rescue him. Will had promised countless times that he would be there for Jem, but this relapsing ordeal caused that promise to deteriorate further and further. It wasn’t as if Will didn’t _want_ to save Jem- no- he didn’t think he _could_. This dream chipped Will’s confidence more each time he had it, and Will began to doubt that he was even worthy of being Jem’s parabatai. He couldn’t save him. He wasn’t strong enough.
An ear-shattering scream, the most horrible noise Will had ever heard in his life, cut through the near-silence and Will was forced to watch as Jem began tearing at his own skin. He dug his nails into his cheeks and attempted to rip the flesh out. This was new; the nightmare had never been this horrible.
Will could not look away. He couldn’t avert his eyes from the tears streaming down the shadowhunter’s bloody cheeks, the convulsing body, the wide-open mouth that began heaving vomit. Will’s only release was the moment the cool breeze of the night blew out Jem’s candle, allowing Will a break from the disgusting scene. However, this break almost made the nightmare worse, as Will now heard every noise his parabatai made clearer than before. He heard the tear of his skin, the hurling of his stomach, the terrible screams fading into pained whimpers, and the ragged breathing.
The first time he had had this dream, he was sobbing. His heart rate was through the roof and tremors shook the dark-haired boy’s body. However, these dreams came so often that Will watched now without reaction, the horrible images still branded into his mind and still traumatizing him in the same way. He hoped that if he didn’t react, it would hurt less. This wasn’t the case, though.
The noises stopped. Will was suddenly aware that the darkness was caused by his eyes being closed, and with a warm feeling of relief, he knew that he was awake and back in his room. Although he was thankful that the nightmare was over, he was still aware of the wetness of his cheeks and the small shivering of his hands and lips. His relief was short lived.
Taking a deep breath, Will knew that the only way he’d feel better would be if he saw Jem; he needed to assure himself that his parabatai was safe and okay, for one thing, but he also wanted the comfort of Jem’s scent and his warmth. Will quietly pulled the blankets off of his sweating body and swung his feet off of the bed, pushing himself into a standing position. After rubbing the tears and the sleep from his eyes, Will left his room and walked down the hall to find Jem’s.
Once he stood in front of the boy’s door, he opened it without knocking; he didn’t have to. The cool breeze of his parabatai’s room brushed Will’s hair from his eyes and Will, in relief, saw Jem sleeping in his bed; composedly and in one piece. |
b3accda7ddcf448591b855e4752e08ca | ['dac64b9c17724ffab4004d9fca671c0d'] | "Fullmetal still hasn't forgiven his father." He said after a moment, still avoiding her gaze. "No surprise there, I suppose. If his height were equal to the amount of time he can hold a grudge, he'd have to worry about tall jokes instead of short ones."
Above her, the moon hung low in the sky, beautiful and full. She knew, but she didn't look. The crickets chirped quietly in the grass. She heard, but paid them no mind. Instead she watched the man across from her. She watched him, and waited.
"She knows about me." He continued. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together under his chin and continuing to watch the universe flying by overhead. "Both of them do. They've done all right, in spite of what they lost."
She could hear a funny echo in his voice, and knew the unspoken sentiment. What they'd lost – and what he'd taken. Somewhere inside the house, a door slammed shut. She noted it, but also registered it's distance – a door to a room at the back of the house, not one at the front. Under the table, she switched the way she'd been crossing her ankles, not once tearing her gaze from the man before her. She recrossed her ankles, and waited.
For several long moments, they merely sat upon the porch, two small parts of a much greater whole. A mockingbird's song drifted to them on the night wind. Aside from that, and the steady motion of clouds over head, the entire world stood still.
Still, she waited.
Finally, he tore his gaze from the heavens above, eyes mirthlessly meeting hers. She resisted the urge to flinch at the cracks showing on his unsmirking face. The hold he'd managed to keep over his emotions for the past few weeks was slipping. She wondered if he'd simply convinced himself that it was only a temporary situation. She wondered, and waited.
"They still don't know." He said at length, managing a steady voice, though the effort put into it shone clearly. "They'd already left Central when it happened, and haven't seen anyone who'd think to tell them since. They don't know about him, and I-"
His voice broke, her own heart breaking in sympathy as she waited.
"I can't tell them. I can't tell them he's-" He stopped as she moved at last, reaching out to take his hands in hers.
"I know." She said softly. He nodded, and she let it rest at that. After all, telling them wouldn't change anything.
It, like her, could wait.
5. Thirst
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Spoilers to episode 37. This chapter only originally written as part of Het_challenge 2007 on LJ, but retrospectively it hangs well with the other chapters, so I'm grouping it in now.
The day had been long one. Havoc’s latest fling dumped him for Roy, Fullmetal was still MIA, and information from Armstrong suggested the corruption extended all the way to the Fuhrer – not that Roy hadn’t expected it, but having confirmation was still disconcerting. He could feel his brows attempting to knit together, his face pinching up. Roy was thus only slightly surprised when the car pulled up in front of the bar he and Hughes had once frequented.
“This isn’t my house,” he said mildly, raising an eyebrow. Riza’s cinnamon eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror before focusing resolutely on the road in front of her.
“You looked thirsty,” she replied. Roy snorted, but didn’t bother to protest. The blonde exited the vehicle and came around to open Roy’s door for him. She waited unblinkingly beside it, saluting, as he swung his legs to the ground and stood up. Roy paused, then grabbed her by the elbow and wrenched her arm from its precise execution of protocol. She followed after him, surprisingly loose and willing in his hold.
He bought her first drink and had it placed in front of her within moments of getting his own. Bourbon for him, gin and tonic for her – Riza didn’t drink that fruity girly crap, would’ve been more upset if he’d gotten that for her.
“Colonel.” She glared at him, eyes frosty over the bridge of her nose as she held up her keys. Roy shook his head and pulled her onto the seat beside him.
“You look thirsty, too.” He didn’t look at her then, didn’t watch her – but then, he didn’t have to watch to know what she was doing. Roy sipped his own drink instead while Riza watched, her gaze thawing with each moment that passed until her hand wrapped around the glass. He only looked back at her when he heard the tell-tale clink of the glass returning to the bar. Roy signaled the bartender for a refill as he set his own empty tumbler on the table.
She looked beautiful, in the hazy smoke of the bar. His fingers itched to undue the precisely clipped hair, to watch her long blonde locks tumble over her sharp military collar. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her hair down while she was wearing her jacket. Her blue, blue jacket that contrasted just so with her pale features and dark eyes. Her eyes shone even in the dim light of the bar, focused intently on him. He liked that – being the focus of her world.
“You need to stop stealing the lieutenant’s girlfriends,” she said after a moment, her eyes fastened on the bartender rather than Roy. The corner of his lips quirked up.
“Oh? Being attractive causes me so many problems, but I don’t know how you expect me to fix that. Maybe I should start wearing an eye patch – women might leave me alone if I was disfigured.” Roy sipped at his second shot slowly, rather than tossing it back the way he had the first one. | 1293b0df18464b63acf7719c3ec8fe6b | ['dac64b9c17724ffab4004d9fca671c0d'] |
The Inkwell
**Author's Note:**
> This is set post-series and (in my mind) several years down the line so they're both older. Ahiru has also magically been restored to being a girl. There wasn't really a good time to explain either of these things, though, so just go with it. Originally written for the Princess Tutu holiday exchange 2007, for serika_san.
_The knight cupped her right breast in his left hand, his right hand resting against the small of her back as they stood together in the darkened room. The cool night air had chilled the firm flesh, and hardened her nipples. He ran his thumb lightly over one. She gasped, a sudden inhalation of breath that became a low moan. Her face flushed, her eyes closed, and her mouth formed a perfect little 'o' that sent wild thoughts jolting across his imagination. He rubbed her nipple again, with a little more pressure. Her knees went weak, but he kept her up, supporting her on his arm and shuffling them closer to the bed._
_"I… I've never…" She stuttered as he grabbed the collar of her unbuttoned blouse and pulled it down, free from her arms, and tossed it to the floor. The lady blushed, turning her face away. He touched her chin with his free hand, tilting her head back until he could kiss her freely, swallowing her words. He unhooked her skirt, pulling the zipper down and letting it fall to the floor, and pushed her gently onto the bed._
_"Fak –"_
"What are you writing, Fakir?"
He jumped when she said it. In his defense, he'd just been getting to the good part, and she wasn't supposed to be back for another hour. Fakir glanced at the clock. Or maybe she was on time. He hastily shuffled the sheaf he'd been working on in amongst the rest of the paper on the desk as he fought to keep the color from rising to his face.
"Nothing worth reading," Fakir said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, moving his lap more under the desk as he turned to face her.
"Fakir shouldn't say things like that!" Ahiru balled up her fists and waved them determinedly above her head. It might have been more impressive if Fakir wasn't staring at her chest and being grateful for the fact that she never, ever noticed when he did that. Her small but well-shaped breasts bounced beneath her yellow sweater. "Fakir is a wonderful writer!"
"Zura!" Uzura popped her head out from behind Ahiru, and Fakir was glad that he hadn't been tipping his chair back because he definitely would have fallen over. She beat her drum twice and smiled up at him.
"People who've never seen the ocean always think the pond is big," he grumbled at Ahiru, turning to look out the window. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ahiru huffed, crossing her arms under her breasts and pouting, deliberately looking away from him. Her boobs looked bigger when she supported them that way. He wondered what she'd look like in a real princess's corset. Maybe nothing but a corset. Maybe –
"- and just because I've never seen an ocean doesn't mean Fakir should be so mean to me!" Ahiru mumbled, turning her back on him. Her long ponytail whipped across her tight ass, hitting against her side before falling back.
"Zura zura!" The small green-haired girl said enthusiastically. She jumped up and down, and hit her drum a few times as Ahiru started toward the door.
"Ahiru…" Fakir said helplessly, reaching out towards her but not quite daring to get up from his seat. She looked back over her shoulder, and her face softened as she smiled at him.
"Come on," she said, "I've got a great breast for you."
Fakir's mouth went dry. He didn't know what expression his face was showing because he couldn't quite find oxygen. Ahiru's brows tightened together, and she frowned a little.
"You don't like thighs or wings, right? Oooo," she moaned, "I'm sorry if I got it wrong, Fakir, but I really thought breast was your favourite part of a turkey!" Ahiru clasped her hands together in front of her chest as she turned all the way around to face him. Fakir pulled in a deep breath.
"No, you're right. I'll be down in a minute." Fakir shook his head as he spoke, and turned into an excuse to lower his flaming red face out of her view.
"All right!" She exclaimed, turning towards the door and pushing Uzura through it ahead of her. "Come down soon, while it's still warm!"
When she was gone, and the door closed behind her, Fakir slammed his head against the desk.
Maybe he was being taken too literally.
~
_He paused a moment at her entrance, a sword dangling over the only sheath it called home. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her, crying out as his steel slipped deep within her velvet warmth. She…_
Fakir tapped his pen against the desk a few times and stared at the page. He got up from his chair, and walked across the room, and came back and sat down again. Then he tapped the pen against the page again before throwing it across the room and crumpling the sheet up to throw into the fire as well.
Obviously this wasn't working.
Fakir scooped up the pile of crumpled papers and headed downstairs. He could already hear the banging of pots and pans from Ahiru and Uzuru in the kitchen, making dinner. The dark-haired man walked through the open door and headed straight to the fire.
"Fakir…?" Ahiru stopped stirring the pot on the stove as he crouched by the open grate and began to feed the flames. |
f6cc70f157b1493ab0d8ab044bfee09a | ['dac7076feb4b4fa1a56c49efefb1c795'] | “I’m supposed to name it?” Ichigo asked, surprised. Haruhi sighed and moved forward, shoving into Ichigo’s stomach and throwing him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?” Ichigo demanded, struggling.
“I’m going to get somebody to teach you about Shikai.” Haruhi said simply, running over the city towards Urahara’s shop.
“Why can’t you just put me down and do that yourself?” Ichigo growled. Haruhi laughed.
“I’m not a Shinigami, remember? I can’t teach you that. And stop struggling; you’ll hurt yourself on my Hierro.” With that said, she walked into Urahara’s shop, Ichigo still draped over her shoulder, and stopped in front of Urahara, who looked at her in surprise.
“Why Haruhi-san, what a pleasant surprise!” He said, smirking at Ichigo. Haruhi plopped her brother down on the ground in front of the shopkeeper.
“He doesn’t know his zanpakuto’s name, or how to use his Shikai. Teach him.”
“And what do I get out of doing so?” Urahara asked curiously. Haruhi leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.
“A stronger ally for the upcoming war.”
“Why are you whispering?” Urahara whispered back, as Ichigo sweatdropped, deeply confused.
“Because whispering is fun, and it confuses Ichigo.” Haruhi whispered back. Urahara grinned.
“Okay, deal.” He said, leaning away from her.
“Good. See you later little brother.” She said happily, practically skipping out of the shop. She was about to open a garganta back to Las Riquezas when Rukia appeared in front of her, her arms folded and she was glaring up at Haruhi. “Oh, hi Rukia. What can I do for you? I don’t suppose you have any bananas, do you? It’s been days since I had a decent banana.”
“What is up with your banana obsession?” Rukia demanded, irritated. She’d planned on confronting Haruhi about why she was so different, but the girl’s quirk had driven that plan from her mind.
“Bananas taste good.” Haruhi said simply. “They were the first thing I ate after becoming a Hollow that wasn’t a Soul. Now, I’m afraid I have to leave. Oncoming war and all that, I’m sure you understand, thanks for training my little brother, don’t worry; I got Urahara to teach him about Shikai, I’m sure you had your reasons for not teaching him about that, but anyway, bye!” She opened a garganta and disappeared inside it before Rukia could react. She sighed. Talking to Ichigo’s sister almost always left her with a headache.
_Hueco Mundo-One hour later_
“Haruhi, I need to talk to you about something.” Nelliel said, walking up to Haruhi, who was frowning thoughtfully.
“Do I have blood on me?” Haruhi asked, spinning in a circle and trying to get a good look at herself.
“Uh, no.” Nelliel said, confused.
“No bits of soul? No Hollow remnants, no smushed pieces of banana?”
“No. Why?” Haruhi looked to either side, and then beckoned Nelliel to lean down so she could whisper in the taller Arrancar’s ear.
“Cirucci keeps staring at me, and she always gets this hungry look in her eye when she does it. I thought maybe I had a big chunk of food on me. I’m starting to get worried. Do you think she’s so busy she hasn’t been able to eat recently? I suppose we have been keeping the security on fairly high alert since our meeting with Aizen.” Nelliel smiled and patted Haruhi on the head.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” She assured the girl.
“If you say so.” Haruhi said slowly, clearly still concerned. “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been looking into all the Hollows that have been appearing in Karakura Town lately.” Nelliel told her. “And it appears that all of them have been coming from Barragan’s territory.” Haruhi blinked in surprise.
“But that doesn’t make any sense. So far only one of them has been a talker, the rest were all dumb Hollows. Why would Barragan send them? I just figured they were attracted by Ichigo’s reiatsu.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to waste intelligent troops before a war.” Nelliel suggested. Haruhi sighed.
“Alright, keep an eye on them. I’ll go pay him a visit tomorrow.” She said. She was too tired now, and if things turned violent, fighting Barragan in anything less than tiptop shape would be suicide. Nelliel nodded, and then walked over to Cirucci, who was sitting at a table they’d pulled up and playing poker with Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, and Starrk.
“Cirucci…” Nelliel started. The purple haired Arrancar sighed and looked up at Nelliel.
“What do you want?”
“Your staring is starting to worry Haruhi.” She told Cirucci flatly.
“Come again?” Cirucci asked, blinking in surprise.
“Your staring is starting to worry Haruhi.” Nelliel repeated. “She could see the hunger in your eyes, and was worried that she’d been working you so hard that you didn’t have time to eat. I told her that wasn’t the case, but she’s still worried.”
“Well, she is hungry, the boss got that part right at least.” Grimmjow said with a smirk. Cirucci glared at him, and then sighed.
“Fine, I’ll try and stop.” She told Nelliel, turning back to her cards.
“No.” Cirucci blinked again.
“What?”
“This isn’t going to stop, and we all know it.”
“You mean everyone but Haruhi knows it.” Starrk corrected, frowning at his cards.
“Yes.” Nelliel said, conceding the point. “At any rate, the best thing for both of you is for you to just go and talk to her.” Cirucci stared up at her, then sighed and stood up.
“Fine.” She said, walking away from the table. A few minutes later, she knocked on Haruhi’s bedroom door.
“Come in!” Haruhi called. Cirucci opened the door to find Haruhi eating a plate of food that, miracle of miracles, didn’t have any bananas on it. “Oh, hi Cirucci! I was just eating dinner, do you want some?” Cirucci shook her head.
“I’m fine.” She said with a small smile, walking over to Haruhi, who frowned in concern, setting her fork down. | 0ba0d02895d44ee5a042268ce8203526 | ['dac7076feb4b4fa1a56c49efefb1c795'] | “Yes, I suppose I am.” He said finally. “Why? Is it bothering you? I suppose I should have thought of that before bringing it in here. I can move it.” He said, starting to get up.
“No!” Maria said quickly, wincing inwardly. She’d forgotten about his guilt complex. “It’s just that, well, I’m unhealthily curious, I’ll admit it, and I haven’t faced a boggart since I was thirteen myself. So, once you’re done with your tea, would you mind if I finished it off?” Lupin looked at her, surprised. While Boggarts weren’t a particularly threatening creature, the average witch or wizard wouldn’t normally volunteer to take one on unless they had to.
“Of course, feel free.” He said finally, nodding. Maria smiled at him, then walked over to the stove and began making herself a cup of hot chocolate, occupying herself until Lupin left. Once he was safely gone, she shut the door and began silently casting spells-one to alert her if anyone came down the hallway, one to seal the door shut, and a third to make sure nobody would hear anything. When that was done she turned to face the wardrobe, took a deep breath, and waved her wand once more, opening the doors. There was a pause, and then suddenly there were multiple people in front of her. Well, there were four corpses laid out in a circle, with one living person. Standing in the middle of that grisly ring was herself, with a Time Turner encased in a locket that was emblazoned with the Hogwarts Crest resting around her neck.
“You poor fool.” The boggart began, smiling patronizingly. “How many times have you saved these people,” It gestured at the four distinct corpses, “And how many times have you been hurt regardless of that fact? Perhaps it’s time to admit that the universe simply doesn’t care about your pathetic efforts and try something different.”
“I’m pathetic?” Maria scoffed. “You’re the one that decided to work with…him!” She spat, pointing at the Time Turner with her wand. “What you fail to understand boggart, is that while turning into…that is what worries me the most, it’s not my greatest _fear_ , because nothing scares me at this point. I’ve seen everything there is to see.” The boggart considered her for a moment.
“No, that’s not it. You’re terrified of becoming me, I can tell.” It said after a moment. “The only thing is, you’re one of those people.”
“One of what people?” Maria asked.
“And if Harlequin shall steal your Columbine, Laugh, Pagliaccio, so the crowd will cheer! Turn your distress and tears into jest, your pain and sobbing into a funny face - Ah! Laugh, Pagliaccio, at your broken love! Laugh at the grief that poisons your heart!” The boggart quoted.
“Oh, you think I’m one of those Sad Clown types, the kind that makes jokes to hide their pain and fears. Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’re wrong. I really am this happy all the time.” The boggart gave another patronizing smile.
“You can lie to everybody else Maria, but you can’t lie to yourself.” It told her.
“I can and I am.” Maria growled. “And besides, what does that have to do with anything? Your territory is fear, not sorrow.”
“Perhaps not, but the thing is, what terrifies you most is you. I become whatever I turn into mind, body, and soul. I am you now, and I must admit, after so many animal forms this is refreshing. I’ve never taken a form so old or so…complicated.”
“Well that’s good.” Maria said. “As long as you’re entertained.”
“And yet, in the end, you are merely another witch.” The boggart said with a smirk.
“Oh, you poor boggart, I am far more than just another witch.” Maria said, solemn for once. “Goodbye.” She raised her wand and pointed it at the copy of her.
“What happened to the girl that set out with the goal of only ever killing Death Eaters?” The boggart asked, sounding scared for the first time.
“I got old.” Maria said simply. “Avada Kedavra.”
_Fifteen minutes later_
Maria walked into her office, cast the same spell she’d cast in the staff room, and then walked over to the red telephone booth in the far corner. She opened the door and walked into a whole different room. “You’ll never become that.” A kind female voice said as she walked to her bed.
“Were you spying on me?” Maria said in a mock accusatory voice.
“Of course.” The voice said unapologetically. “How else would I know when you were in trouble?”
“I don’t get in trouble that often.” Maria said, grabbing a hip flask from off of the night stand and downing the contents, then sitting down and taking off her boots, then removing her contacts and putting them away.
“Yes you do.” The voice said, exasperated. “And forgive me for being nervous, since you’ve already decided to make this far more complicated than it needs to be.”
“I’m trying to limit my impact, you know that.” Maria said, climbing under the covers. “Goodnight Dear.”
“Goodnight Thief.” The voice said tenderly.
2. Chapter 2
Disclaimer-I don’t own Harry Potter
Chapter Two
Dumbledore and McGonagall were speaking together in Dumbledore’s office, discussing what further options they could take to help keep the students safe when Snape burst into the office. “Tell me Albus, did you hire that woman just to upset me, or this another facet of your plan to try and get me to warm up to Potter?” Dumbledore blinked at him in surprise, confused for once.
“Excuse me?” He asked the Potions Master. |
e57155d114504d53b8b9fa456253c356 | ['daccd775086a4ad98851c7002c77d3d6'] | "Mmh, Jacks, imagine me around you instead of your hand, yeah? Hot and wet, you're so deep Jacks, god…feels good, right?"
"Fuck, Mark, I'm coming," He groans, going silent momentarily.
Mark remembers the face Jackson makes when he comes, his eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth open wide, pure bliss in his features.
When Jackson comes down from his high, Mark can hear him laugh a little, "Jesus, Mark, even over the phone you can give me one of the best orgasms I've ever had in my life."
Mark giggles in response, a warm smile on his face, "I miss you so much, Jacks."
"I miss you too, angel. Only two more months until I can come visit you in LA, though! Then I can fuck you as hard as I want."
"Jackson!" Mark fakes disgust in his voice.
Jackson chuckles, "God, you're so cute. I love you, Markie baby."
"I love you, too, Jacks," Mark sighs, "now, I have to go. I gotta email my essay to my professor before midnight."
"Okay, college boy. I want you to call me in the morning, though."
"Done deal," Mark says, "bye, Jacks,"
"Bye babe," Mark hears kissy noises as he ends the call.
Jackson always had a way of making his days better.
**Author's Note:**
> Feel free to leave critiques and such!
>
> Also, check out my blogs for more content if you'd like:
>
> @2jaefuckers (NSFW)
>
> @seokjinsinner | 247d689c5baa415ab40b4447c4cc6897 | ['daccd775086a4ad98851c7002c77d3d6'] | "Oh, Jacks, I'm gonna come," He cries.
Jackson leans forward and puts his lips up against Mark's ear and whispers, "Come for me, baby boy."
Mark instantly lets go, releasing on his tummy and Jackson's as well. Jackson fucks him through his orgasm, then pulls out, jerking himself off.
"Fuck, your face looked so beautiful when you came, angel. Love you so much, missed you, missed this…" Jackson rambles on, caught in the throws of ecstasy.
Mark reached down and took Jackson's cock in his hand. One, two, three pumps and Jackson was coming on Mark's chest, some landing on his chin. Mark almost flinches, but instead looks at Jackson's face. God, he looks so good.
After Jackson comes back to himself, he pushes himself off of Mark and lays down beside him. He rolls on his side to face the older boy.
"Oh, got some on your face," he giggles breathlessly, reaching over to get some tissue from the bedside table.
Mark watches as his boyfriend clean off his face, scrunching up his nose in discomfort. Jackson laughs and places a chaste kiss to his nose, then gets up to throw the tissue away. He comes back to see Mark still lying on top of the covers, a fucked out expression on his face. Jackson pulls the duvet back and places it on top of the both of them. He buries his face in marks neck, leaving gentle kisses.
"I love you, Markie baby."
"Love you too, Jacks."
**Author's Note:**
> I suck at writing endings...so sorry that it's so cheesy. But I hope you all liked it! Hopefully more coming in the future. |
577ac18fa7924aa0966b0b4f9c654956 | ['dad0351ee5be4dff81688fe3d526b0d5'] | she's a tempting animal
**Author's Note:**
> this is sort of inspired by the new leaked song. i hope it's not too bad, enjoy!
Harry smiles as he watches his girlfriend browsing through all the clothes and jewellery stores she can find in the shopping centre. He knows that he'll be the one forking out money for whatever she picks out, but he's not that bothered really because he loves her and he would do anything for her.
"Harry," she calls from where she's headed towards the changing room. "Can you come help me here please?" He quickly makes his way over to her, almost stumbling when she shoves a bunch of clothes into his arms. "Hold these for me while I try on this skirt," she says, and then steps into the change room and locks the door behind her. Harry just smiles and juggles the clothes a little until he has a good grip on them. It isn't too long before she's coming out of the change room shaking her head and muttering words that sound like "not thin enough" and "need to work out more". Harry doesn't bother trying to tell her that she's beautiful and thin enough already because she doesn't take compliments unless she's demanding you to say nice things about her.
"It didn't fit then?" he asks instead, instantly regretting it when she turns to him because if looks could kill he would have been dead last week.
Clearing her throat, she says in a hard voice, "No," and then she walks away to return the skirt to the shelf. Harry follows after her, mentally condemning himself for upsetting his beautiful girlfriend. When she returns she tells Harry to go and pay for all the items while she goes and waits in the car because she wants to go home. Saying no is not an option so he smiles and kisses her cheek, whispering, "Okay. I won't be long love." She rolls her eyes and leaves without saying another word. Harry watches her as she walks and smiles, because even though she's mean he loves her and would do anything for her.
After paying for the clothes and meeting her back at the car, she asks to go home so he drives her home. When he pulls up in front of her house he goes to kiss her but she quickly gets out of the car, waves and then runs up the driveway and into her home. Harry sighs and shakes his head, and he's wondering why he lets her treat him this way. He knows the answer, he always knows the answer, because he asks himself this question all the time. The answer will always be the same: because he loves her and would do anything for her.
He drives home after that, ready to have a soak in the tub and then relax, but the universe has different plans. Louis and Liam are waiting in Louis and Harry's shared flat when he gets home, and Harry sighs and rolls his eyes because Louis does this all the time. Waits around for Harry to come home from a date with his girlfriend and then hurl questions at him about why he stays with her and how he deserves better. Harry tries to explain why he doesn't leave her, tries to explain that even though she's a bitch she is quite lovely - even though Harry doesn't see her lovely side, isn't actually certain she's got one - but Louis doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that Harry is in love, and it's worth it all because he loves her and would do anything for her.
"How much did you spend on her today, Harry?" is the first thing that Louis says. Harry has every intention of just ignoring him and not letting Louis lecture him again for the same thing as the day before, but it's _Louis_ and Harry can't ever ignore Louis.
"Can we not please, Lou? Not today at least," Harry whines in his drawl, but Louis shakes his head.
"We're doing this, Harry. She treats you like shit, Harry! You don't love her, she doesn't love you and you both need to go your different ways. You deserve so much better than, and you know it." Harry knows this. He's heard all of this before, from Louis, from the other boys, from his mum, hell even _Simon_ had said something before. But they don't understand, they don't understand that Harry loves her and would do anything for her.
Harry shakes his head and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of the couch. "I love her, Louis. I tell you this all the time, when will you get it? I love her."
Liam speaks up then, "She doesn't love you, though, Harry. She doesn't love you and that's not fair to you."
"I know, okay? I know, but I love her." And with that Harry walks away, not in the mood for anymore of this because it's just one big endless cycle and he can't handle much more of it tonight. He knows and understands what everyone is saying. He knows that she's using him for the money and fame, but he loves her even if she doesn't love him back. He loves her and would do anything for her. | 5b828f3445fd41e3b3029121a42fefed | ['dad0351ee5be4dff81688fe3d526b0d5'] | man's best friend
**Author's Note:**
> basically i love ziall. also my dog died today, and in an effort to cheer myself up i decided to write this. it's not really working, i'm still really upset.
> i hope there isn't too many mistakes, but if there is i'm sorry
>
> for scooter, rest in peace baby, i'll miss you and i love you.
Zayn is sitting on a park bench, reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, when Niall bounds over to him and pulls him into a hug. Zayn squeals in disgust when he feels Niall's sweaty body pressing against his, but he wraps his arms around the boy anyway.
"Zayn!" Niall screams in his ear, causing Zayn to pull away and rub at his ear.
"I'm right here, Niall. No need to scream." Zayn tries to say it sternly, but it ends up coming out softly.
"Sorry, babe," Niall says and pecks Zayn's lips. "I was thinking though, and ...," Niall stops and Zayn groans as he sits back down.
"Well, what were you thinking?" Zayn asks as he picks his book up from where dropped it and begins to read again.
Niall chuckles and takes a seat next to Zayn, poking his cheek in an attempt to claim his attention but with no such luck. "I was thinking," Niall pauses and waits for Zayn to look up, but Zayn carries on reading, only half paying attention to what the blonde boy is saying. "We should get a puppy!" Niall says excitedly.
Zayn looks up at Niall, at his book, and then back at Niall as what Niall said registers in his head. A puppy. Niall wants a puppy. Niall, who can barely take care of himself, wants a puppy.
"You want a puppy?" Zayn asks and Niall nods, a huge grin lighting up his pale face. "Are you gonna take care of this puppy?" Zayn asks, knowing that if Zayn says yes to a puppy, he'll end up having to take care of it anyway.
"Well, um - yeah, of course I'll take care of it," Niall half-lies, and Zayn gives a small laugh and shakes his head softly.
"Okay, we can get a bloody puppy," Zayn says, and he's happy with his decision as he watches Niall's whole face light up with a smile, and Zayn knows then that he'd do anything for Niall if he could see him smile like that for the rest of his life.
It's not until they're shopping three weeks later and Niall walks past a pet store, spotting a small predominantly white, with small patches of brown marking her body here and there, puppy and Niall knows straight away that's the dog for him.
Niall pulls at Zayn's sleeve, tugging him back to the store window to look at the puppy. "Zayn, look at this one. Look at it. I want her, she's the one," Niall says, eyeing the puppy and falling in love more and more with each passing second.
Zayn looks at her and _yeah, she's pretty cute_ is his first thought, and then the more he looks at her, the more he definitely agrees with Niall, this is the one.
Niall looks at Zayn and smiles. "What do you think?"
Without taking his eyes off the small dog, Zayn nods and says, "Yes. Definitely yes. Let's get her."
Niall cheers and Zayn laughs, and the step into the store to purchase the small dog, a bed and a food and water bowl.
"What should we name her?" Niall asks as he sets the dog down onto her new bed in their apartment.
"I don't know," Zayn replies with a shrug, setting down the water bowl.
"What about Spot or Patch?" Niall says. "Or Sally? Erin? Sparky?"
Zayn laughs and shakes his head. "They're terrible names, babe. What about," Zayn looks around to find some inspiration and spots something laying in the corner of the lounge room, "Scooter?" he asks with a smile.
Niall looks at Zayn and then the sleeping puppy and nods. "Scooter, I like it," he says and pulls Zayn into a hug. "It's perfect." He gives Zayn a peck on each cheek and then one on his lips. Zayn smiles and grabs Niall by the waist and kisses him, soft and sweet.
"You're perfect," is all Zayn says before they're kissing again and falling onto the couch together. _Everything is perfect_.
**Author's Note:**
> i hope this was at least a little bit okay. i had more planned for this but i was too sad and just didn't feel like writing it. maybe one day i'll finish this the way i wanted to.
>
> thanks for reading x |
30a2f708a6304fc8aa1808f2bd68b855 | ['dad1c2d4738f4057953bfdd1325d1700'] | Ben paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth.
“She’s a urologist?” he said slowly.
Poe waggled his eyebrows. “I know, right? Love a girl who knows her way around a…”
But Ben was already walking into the other room.
* * *
Rey was used to guys hitting on her at parties.
Getting hit on at parties wasn’t something she usually enjoyed. But it didn’t matter much anyway, because once she told them what she did for a living, guys usually backed off pretty quickly. Most of them seemed to assume she got paid to touch penises all day long--which was really only partially true.
Either way, in her experience not a lot of men could handle it.
So when Rey saw Ben Solo making his way towards her a few minutes after she took the last fancy beer she was a little surprised. Then it occurred to her he probably hadn’t heard what she did for a living yet. Which was fine with her. Finn had said Ben Solo was built like a brick house but she hadn’t really _ believed _ it until she’d shown up here tonight and came face to face with the most ridiculous chest, and biceps, she’d ever seen.
Rey’d had a hard time looking at anything else _ but _ him and his stupid chest and even stupider arms ever since.
Ben Solo didn’t seem like the kind of guy who usually chatted girls up at parties, based on their brief, awkward conversation earlier tonight. Then again, her roommate Rose always did say it was the quiet, awkward guys who surprised you.
“Hi.” Ben nodded curtly at the beer in her hands. “Did you like the expensive beer?”
In truth, Rey wasn’t much for chatting people up at parties either. But there was something about this guy that made her want to try, just this once. He was completely guileless, and almost endearingly clueless about social niceties.
Rey smiled up at him and inclined her head towards the bottle in her hands.
“I did enjoy it,” she said. She took another swig. “I _ am _ enjoying it.”
“Poe told me you’re a urologist.”
Rey’s eyebrows shot up.
So he _ did _ know.
She swallowed her mouthful of beer and nodded. “I am.”
“I have questions.” He stared at her, with those dark brown eyes of his that reminded Rey of molten chocolate. The intense look he was giving her was more than a little unnerving. She started to fidget a little almost without realizing she was doing it. “About a... situation.”
“A situation?”
Ben Solo nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
Rey waited for him to continue. When he didn’t she prompted: “What… kind of situation?” Though in truth, Rey had a pretty good idea where this was headed. She’d only been a practicing physician for a few years but in her experience, people didn’t just go up to urologists at parties and cryptically tell them _ I have questions _ unless they were looking for some very specific, very free medical advice about their own very specific dicks. Which she was usually almost certainly unqualified to give, given that her specialty was pediatrics. Unless Ben was still a bed-wetter or had undescended testes (she eyed those broad shoulders again) she probably was not the right person to talk to.
Either way though, if Ben Solo was looking for free medical dick advice, Rey wanted to hear that directly from him.
“It’s…” Ben trailed off, and bit his lip, and… Jesus Christ, she should not be staring at those ridiculously plump lips right now, and imagining what it would feel like to bite them herself. But god, they just looked _ so _ soft. And it had been years since she’d had the opportunity to bite anyone’s lips but her own. “It’s a sensitive matter.”
Rey nodded. “I gathered. Seeing as you accused me of being a urologist and then said you had questions.”
Ben swallowed and looked down at his shoes. “Right.”
“So,” Rey continued. She was tempted to reach out and squeeze his right bicep. See if it was as solid as it looked. She resisted, but it was difficult. She wondered how many hours he spent at the gym every week. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to guess?”
Ben Solo frowned at her. “I don’t think you’d be able to guess this one.”
Rey rolled her eyes. “Then out with it. What is it?”
Ben leaned forward, and, in her ear, whispered: “I’m trying to regrow my foreskin.”
Rey nearly dropped her beer in shock.
She pulled back from him, stunned. “I’m sorry. _ What _ ?”
“My parents circumcised me before I was old enough to have a say in the matter,” he went on. “They _ forced _ me to be Jewish without my consent. So a few weeks ago I went online, and…”
Oh, no.
Suddenly, Rey knew exactly where this was going.
“You found an _ Intactivists _ web site,” Rey finished for him. “Didn’t you? Oh, Ben.”
He nodded. “Per the advice I found there, I’m taping pennies to the end of my dick. In the hopes that that will stretch out what’s been left behind a little more each day. The goal is that in six months, my foreskin will have grown back. And I will be whole-- _ intact _ \--again.” He blinked at her, then leaned closer. “Only I don’t know if it’s working or not. If I’m doing it right.”
Rey didn’t know what to say to any of this. In med school she’d heard urban legends of circumcised men who’d gone to various desperate lengths in an attempt to regrow their foreskins. But she never thought they really existed, and she _ certainly _ never thought one of them would find her at a party and ask her if he was doing it right. | f862399f814d4a0d8fd7b88d80557e64 | ['dad1c2d4738f4057953bfdd1325d1700'] | Rey opened her mouth and let him slip between her lips, enjoying the feel of his silky soft skin as the tip of him traced along her gums and cheeks. Ben was already so excited by what she was doing to him she could taste the dribble of pre-cum leaking out of him, a salty bitter tang on her tongue. He was still trying to correct her, trying to mansplain to a fucking _ urologist _ why his perfect, shapely dick was deformed and wrong. But the longer he was in her mouth the harder he grew, and the more she licked and sucked him the harder it was for him to get out any words at all.
When his breathing started to get too hard and too fast Rey pulled off of him with a loud, wet _ pop. _
“Foreskin is not necessary for dating, or for sexual pleasure.” She ran the tip of her tongue along him again, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be able to handle it for much longer. “If your sex life is bad you’re probably just fucking the wrong people. Additionally, a _ lack _ of foreskin can increase the risk of male UTIs."
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
On impulse, and without another word, Rey grabbed one of the uneaten donuts from the coffee table and slid it onto Ben’s now rock-hard penis. A little chocolate glazed number; the one she’d planned to eat at some point later today anyway, even if not quite like this. If Ben was confused about why she just treated his dick like a ring toss at a county fair he showed no sign of it. On the contrary; the look on his face was worshipful and dazed, suggesting that at this point he’d let her do just about anything she wanted to him. If she wanted to eat him down with chocolate frosting, he’d allow it.
“Rey--” he groaned.
She patted the donut on his cock, then cupped his balls.
“Men with foreskins can’t have blowjobs while they’re wearing donuts, Ben.” She licked the tip of his dick again, then took a nibble from the donut. Delicious. “All that sugar. Terrible for the urinary tract. And it would get trapped in your foreskin if you had any.”
She rocked back on her heels then, looking up at him with what she hoped were bedroom eyes. Truth be told, Ben Solo--despite his completely batshit views on what made a penis desirable--was a snack and a half. And despite how weird this whole… _ situation _ with him had started out, she kind of hoped they’d be fucking in her bedroom once this dumb demonstration was over.
Ben looked down at her, blinking, trying hard to process what she was telling him.
“You… like to give donut blowjobs?”
She nodded vigorously. In reality, while Rey had always loved a good donut, she’d never much considered combining the act of eating donuts with the act of eating dick. But if telling him yes right now could get him to stop taping fucking _ pennies _ to himself and start using his dick in far more productive ways she was fine with the little white lie.
“Definitely,” she cooed.
Ben swallowed thickly.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
* * *
That night, when he got back to his apartment, Ben tossed his pennies into the tzedakah box in an attempt to forgive his parents. |
6667ecbebf4f4dc99f66b22148050806 | ['daff0cd2085748be84371c6dde006cba'] | “I...need...uhhh...I, um...want...oh God...” Jensen’s lips were once again on Jared’s neck, causing him a great deal of distraction.
Punctuating each word with a kiss Jensen slowly replied “Baby. You. Have. To. Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”
Jared wrapped his legs around Jensen’s waist effectively pulling him down and pressing their bodies together, Jared growled “I want you to fuck me. Now. And put the hat back on.” Jared dropped his legs back onto the bed so that Jensen could move.
Jensen leaned over the side of the bed and came back wearing the cowboy hat. “Kinky bastard...” He mumbled.
“I’m not the one with hand cuffs.” Jared shifted when Jensen reached under his pillow.
“I stole them from props.” Jensen shrugged, pulling his hand out from under the pillow, producing a small bottle of lube and a condom.
Jared laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Dunno.” Jensen tapped a finger on Jared’s hip, “Over.”
Planting his feet on the bed Jared shook his head. “Wanna see you.”
Kneeling between Jared’s legs Jensen sighed “Yeah.” He then lifted one of Jared’s legs off the bed, manoeuvring it so that the back of Jared’s knee was on his shoulder. Jared moved his other leg, bending his knee toward his body, rotating his hip slightly outward, allowing Jensen complete access to his body. An expression of trust and adoration passed across Jared’s face and just as quickly was replace by an expression of want and need.
Jared gasped when a lube slicked finger slowly pushed past the ring of muscles in his ass. When a second finger was added he moaned and reached for his cock.
“Not yet,” Jensen said, pushing his hand away, adding a third finger.
“Jen...” Jared moaned as fingers ghosted over his prostate. “Please...”
“You sure?”
“Yes! God Yes!” Jared’s body ached for the loss of contact as Jensen’s fingers left him.
Jensen quickly rolled on the condom, adding more lube to it. He lifted Jared’s other leg to his shoulder, and slowly began to enter him. When he was all the way in he stopped moving, giving himself time to adjust to the tight heat that was surrounding him, waiting to feel Jared’s body relax under him. When he did, Jensen leaned forward, to kiss him, nearly folding Jared in half. Thrusts of his pelvis keeping time with the thrusts of their tongues.
Jared lowered his legs, to hook his ankles together at the small of Jensen’s back, pulling him in deeper. Continuing to kiss Jared, Jensen reached down between them to stroke the other man’s hard cock. Feeling Jared begin to tighten around him, Jensen whispered, “Don’t fight it.” A few quick strokes later and Jared was coming, two more thrusts into his tight passage and Jensen’s own orgasm followed.
“That was just, um...just...wow.” Jared mumbled as Jensen collapsed onto him.
“Yeah. Wow.” When his heart rate had slowed and his lungs felt like they were taking in air again, Jensen withdrew himself from Jared’s body; tossing the hat back to the floor he moved toward the bathroom to throw away the used condom and get a wet cloth.
Once Jensen had them both cleaned up, and they were wrapped around each other under the blankets, no more words were spoken and both men quickly fell asleep. Each one feeling assured that their dance was done and neither planned on going anywhere. There would be plenty of time to talk in the morning.
Bringing himself back to reality, Jared wondered what he was doing sitting on a park bench getting all hot and bothered when he had cowboy hat wearing, handcuff stealing, sexy as hell Jensen-fucking-Ackles naked in his bed at home. Plotting how he could put those handcuffs to use and slowly torture Jensen - there would be plenty of time for talking later - Jared ran home. | 12b64910eab048e3989c66063ae7cc38 | ['daff0cd2085748be84371c6dde006cba'] | Sighing and lowering himself back into the chair that moments before he had moved from, Charlie studied Don for a few seconds, using the time to collect his thoughts. When he finally spoke, it wasn't to yell at his brother, as Don had expected. Voice even Charlie said "Yeah, Don, I know; and dad knows and I'm sure that Grace knows too."
As if on que Alan walked back into the room. Face furious, eyes filled with disappointment.
"Or maybe not," Charlie mumbled.
3. Chapter 3
Coming to stand in front of his eldest son, jaw clenched, Alan hissed “Donald Eppes! What is the matter with you?”
“I’m so sorry dad. I never meant to scare her like that.”
“I’m not the one that you need to be apologizing to!” Alan snapped.
“You’re right. I’ll go talk to her.”
“No yelling?” Alan requested, tone softening somewhat.
“No yelling.” Don agreed. Slowly getting up off the couch and moving toward the kitchen.
The sight of his cousin when he entered the kitchen nearly broke Don’s heart.
Grace was sitting at the counter, back straight, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, staring straight ahead. The sound of the kitchen door swinging shut as Don entered, breaking her concentration.
“I’m sorry Don. I never meant to make you mad.” Lowering herself from the bar stool and moving toward the door. “I’m just gonna go.”
“Grace,” Don sighed. “Don’t go. And don’t think that you need to apologize to me. I’m the one who should be sorry. And I am. More than I can say. You were right. We do need to talk about this. But in the morning.” He had slowly been moving toward her as he spoke and now stood in front of her. “The best place for you to be is here, you know that. It’s why you chose to come home again, to the only real family that you’ve ever had, isn’t it?”
Grace smiled at Don, “And they say Charlie's the genius! It is true though Don, this is the only place I ever felt safe when I was young. I guess a part of me was hoping to get that back, even if it could only be for a little while. I just wanted to remember what that feels like. Take it with me.”
“And you should feel that way. That really is my intention. But finding out what you’ve told us tonight put my big brother instincts into overdrive and I got a little crazy! And just so we’re clear here, I’m not mad at you, Grace. I’m angry that you had to go through this, for all this time. I have half a mind to get on a plane to Seattle, and hunt the son-of-a-bitch down myself; but I know that won’t help you. Why don’t we both stay here tonight and in the morning we’ll discuss what we’re going to do?”
“I can agree to that.” Relaxing substantially with those words Grace yawned. “I haven’t slept in two days. A good night’s sleep would probably be a very good thing at this point.”
“Come on then Little One, I’ll help you up to your room.”
********** ********** ********** **********
Saturday morning Grace woke up feeling more rested than she had in years. Sitting up in bed, she picked her old stuffed bunny with one eye and a tattered ear up off the bedside table and looked around her childhood bedroom. It was as if no time had gone by at all. The pink gingham curtains that matched the bedding. The matching white bedroom suite. Pictures on the walls of Brere Rabbit and his friends. Family photos on the desk, dresser and bedside table. Getting up to wander around the room and look at photos of when her life was simple, Grace was shocked to see the smile on her own face; remembering how happy she used to be here, realizing that the memories that the Eppes house held for her were probably the happiest times of her life.
Looking her bunny in the eye she whispered “Maybe you can go home again.”
A loud noise and voices coming from down stairs snapped her back to the present. Grace decided to buy herself a few more minutes by quickly showering and getting dressed before she had to go down and face reality.
Coming down the stairs a short time later Grace was surprised to see a number of strange faces sitting around the dining room table; talking in hushed voices while passing coffee, juice, and various breakfast foods to each other.
Charlie looked up from where he was sitting at the table between Don and a pretty woman with dark features, and smiled “Good morning sleepy-head!”
“Good morning Whiz Kid!”
Alan came over to where she was standing, “You’d better hurry up Little One, if you want to eat this morning!”
Wrapping her arm around her uncle’s waist, he kissed the top of her head. “I think I still remember how to fight a few scraps away from Don and Charlie!” Grace said to the table, to her uncle she whispered “I didn’t know that you were expecting company or I would have been down sooner to help you.”
“You needed to sleep. Besides this motley crew is hardly company; they’re practically family and they’ve come to see you.” Grace looked at Alan, not understanding what he was saying. “Three of these folks are Don’s team and the other two are Charlie’s colleagues.” He explained.
Stomping her foot like a petulant child Grace exclaimed, “Don! You promised that we would talk!”
“Gracie, did you really just stomp your foot?” Don laughed.
Blushing and laughing at herself while trying to be serious she said "Yes. I'm very angry at you."
"Uh-huh" Don laughed harder, getting up to pull out the chair at the head of the table for her. Taking his seat to her right Don went around the table making introductions.
Alan took the seat to Grace's left, putting a plate of toast and fruit in front of her. "Eat." he commanded.
After the breakfast dishes had been cleared away to the kitchen Don poured himself another cup of coffee and casually asked "Well Grace, should we talk about the elephant in the room?"
Letting a beat pass while she let out a slow breath Grace answered "I suppose so, seeing as the troops have been gathered." |
26ed0e247a6d4b0abb742b667f6815f4 | ['db11f84f29c140b9aee6a1b4fcfda0a4'] | Before Yoo Jonghyuk could process the words, Kim Dokja had already stuck his hand into Yoo Jonghyuk’s pants and pulled out his dick.
Kim Dokja stared at the dick in his hand for a while before looking up at Yoo Jonghyuk with a raised eyebrow. Yoo Jonghyuk frowns.
“I can’t control my clothes,” Yoo Jonghyuk says in a clipped voice, trying to hide his embarrassment. His words cause a small smile, simple a tiny quirk of the lips, to appear on Kim Dokja’s face but Yoo Jonghyuk finds it irritating just the same. He wants to kiss it off Kim Dokja, kiss it until everything of Kim Dokja rubs off against Yoo Jonghyuk and then Yoo Jonghyuk can carry the warmth of Kim Dokja everywhere he goes.
Yoo Jonghyuk leans forward for a kiss but Kim Dokja has already ducked his head down and shoved the entirety of Yoo Jonghyuk’s dick into his mouth in one go. Almost immediately after, he rears his head back, choking and coughing. Yoo Jonghyuk’s hands hover by the sides of Kim Dokja’s head, at a loss for what to do. When he had been with Lee Seolhwa, she had been both experienced and wise enough not to attempt such an action.
“Should have expected that,” Kim Dokja mutters, disgruntled. He is still gripping the base of Yoo Jonghyuk’s dick and staring it down with that same twist settling on his lips as he very obviously ponders on how he is going to approach the scenario that is Yoo Jonghyuk’s dick.
“You don’t have to do this,” Jonghyuk eventually says. He doesn’t want Kim Dokja to push himself.
“But I want to?” Kim Dokja is looking up at him, with one hand around his dick and the other supporting his weight on the floor. Yoo Jonghyuk feels his mouth and his words run dry as he watches Kim Dokja take his dick into his mouth once again, this time with more care.
It’s… bad.
Kim Dokja is inexperienced and it shows clearly in the way he moves. It’s too wet and he simply moves up and down and sometimes he presses Jonghyuk’s dick against his palate for a bit too long, but,
It’s _Dokja._
With that thought in mind, it doesn’t take long for Yoo Jonghyuk to come.
Kim Dokja pulls back slowly with a grimace. He cups his hands in front of his face and opens his mouth. Immediately, the sticky white mess of Jonghyuk’s come drips out onto Kim Dokja’s palms. Yoo Jonghyuk really shouldn’t be finding this as hot as he does.
Kim Dokja takes a deep breath and then, “The texture and the taste was so weird in my mouth. How do people even swallow this sort of thing? If it went down my throat the feeling of that would be enough to activate my gag reflex. Wait, it’s on my hand now, my saliva and your semen all mixed together and that’s somehow even worse than just--”
Yoo Jonghyuk feels his heart overflow with fondness as he pulls Kim Dokja into a deep kiss.
They pull apart slowly Yoo Jonghyuk keeping his hand on the back of Kim Dokja’s neck, idly playing with his hair. He wants to remember this. He wants to carve this scene into his memory, the scene of Kim Dokja, eyes dazed and mouth cherry red and slightly swollen due to the deep kiss and the blowjob he gave.
Soon, Kim Dokja once again dons on the calm look he always hides behind when things become too overwhelming for him, hiding away behind an invisible way once again.
“My mouth was on your dick,” Kim Dokja says with an expressionless tone. “Didn’t that bother you?”
“I could always make it even and eat your ass,” Yoo Jonghyuk says very seriously. “Of course, if you want me to blow you as well, I’m not against it.” He only wants Kim Dokja to feel good.
A strange look crosses Kim Dokja’s face as he asks, “Why are you so obsessed with eating my ass?”
Yoo Jonghyuk doesn’t know how to answer him, doesn’t know how to say that he craves the idea of Kim Dokja sitting on his face, the solid weight of Dokja above him, how the act itself will allow Jonghyuk to blank his mind and simply focus on the present, focus on Dokja.
Kim Dokja must have seen something on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face because he averts his eyes and his ears take on a red flush.
“You.” He swallows. “You seriously want to eat my ass.”
“Only if you want me to.”
There is a brief moment of silence as Kim Dokja ponders over this for a moment.
“Alright,” he says eventually. “But I reserve the right to stop any time I want.”
“Of course.” Yoo Jonghyuk lies down.
“...what are you doing?” Kim Dokja sounds absolutely baffled.
“I’m lying down.”
“Why.” It is less of a question and more of a toneless deadpan.
“So you can sit on my face?” Yoo Jonghyuk doesn’t understand why Kim Dokja is so hesitant about this.
There is a longer moment of silence from Kim Dokja before he says, very quietly, “Oh, so that’s what you meant by…” Yoo Jonghyuk can hear his taking in a deep breath and frowns. If Dokja doesn’t want to do this, he won’t mind at all. He doesn’t want Dokja to feel obligated to do things at all. He wants Dokja to be cherished, to know that he’s loved, because if he knew that he was loved, then maybe he wouldn’t have--
“Okay,” Kim Dokja says. “Okay. I’ll sit on your face.”
He then wipes the disgusting cum-saliva mixture on Yoo Jonghyuk’s pants before crawling on top of him to straddle his chest. Yoo Jonghyuk feels his heart swell again, filled to the brim with affection for Kim Dokja. | 16149ed809844bcea95c6a2ac9dcc801 | ['db11f84f29c140b9aee6a1b4fcfda0a4'] | With a huff of frustration, Yoo Jonghyuk snatched the shirt away and roughly put it on Kim Dokja. While the shirt was taut around Yoo Jonghyuk’s taller and more filled out body, it was noticeably looser on Kim Dokja’s body.
It still wasn’t long enough to be able to properly cover the parts of Kim Dokja that should be covered, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway.
“How may I be of assistance to you, Yoo Jonghyuk?” Kim Dokja asked. Yoo Jonghyuk pointed straight at him and Kim Dokja took his to mean that he was pointing at the necklace. With an exasperated sigh, Kim Dokja said, “I’ve already told you, the only way to restore your voice is via True Love’s Kiss. I’ve poured through my tome and the spell is irreversible. If you’d like, I could accompany you to see Lee Seolhwa and explain the situation to her.”
Yoo Jonghyuk shook his head. It was expected.
“You're right, the kiss needs to be voluntary. If Lee Seolhwa learnt of the situation, her feelings might be tainted by obligation and guilt, and the kiss wouldn’t be considered True Love’s Kiss anymore.”
Yoo Jonghyuk looked frustrated. Kim Dokja could understand how he felt but Kim Dokja was very confident in both his plan and in Yoo Jonghyuk.
“Don’t worry,” Kim Dokja told him. “Your feelings will go through.”
Yoo Jonghyuk had the ‘I’ll kill you Kim Dokja’ glint back in his eye again. Ungrateful bastard.
Footsteps suddenly sounded out in the beach and Kim Dokja darted away, quickly using the Sea Witch’s tome to cast a concealment spell on himself. It was very much the right choice to do as Lee Seolhwa soon came into view.
“Little Jonghyuk,” she said, and Kim Dokja really hated the ways Yoo Jonghyuk’s name were modified to suit the story, “There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!”
“...” Yoo Jonghyuk said.
“Let us go back to the palace, shall we?” Lee Seolhwa reached out to grab Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand. It twitched for a moment but otherwise lay limp as Lee Seolhwa led Yoo Jonghyuk away from the beach. When Kim Dokja was sure that they were gone, he stepped out and cast another spell to create simple clothes.
He was going to continue his reconnaissance.
-o-
On the second day, Kim Dokja received news of a possible fiancee of Lee Seolhwa currently travelling towards the kingdom. When he made his way back to the beach, Yoo Jonghyuk was already sitting by the shore, waiting for him. Kim Dokja plopped down onto the sand next to him.
“You don’t have to worry about the fiancee,” Kim Dokja said, closing the Sea Witch’s tome. “He won’t be arriving any time soon. In the meantime, you need to seize this chance to get True Love’s Kiss. I’ve seen the way Lee Seolhwa looks at you. If you kiss her, there’s no way it won’t work.”
Yoo Jonghyuk was shaking his head. What an unconfident sunfish. Thankfully, he had Kim Dokja here with him to give him a good push.
Kim Dokja shifted until he was able to look at Yoo Jonghyuk straight in the eyes.
“Yoo Jonghyuk,” he said quietly, “Jonghyuk, I believe in you, and I believe that there is no one out there that could say no to a confession from you. There are things in life that are worth the risk and the pursuit of happiness, _ real _ happiness, is one of them. Sometimes, you just need to take the leap of faith.”
Yoo Jonghyuk gazed back at him for a long while and then Kim Dokja could literally see the determination gathering in his eyes, the way his posture straightens up. A small smile curls at Kim Dokja’s lips at the sight. This, this was the Yoo Jonghyuk that he--
Yoo Jonghyuk leaned forward and kisses Kim Dokja right on the mouth. The touch was featherlike at first but it quickly became firmer, more assertive, as Yoo Jonghyuk pressed into Kim Dokja, curling a hand behind Kim Dokja’s head.
Yoo Jonghyuk pulled back and opened his mouth.
“Kim Dokja,” he said, with his actual voice. Pleasant surprise flashed across his face and settled into peaceful contentment and wonder. “True Love’s Kiss. So you do love me back.”
Kim Dokja stared at Yoo Jonghyuk.
“You can’t deny it,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “True Love’s Kiss worked. I may not know you beyond the previous three worlds we were in, or if I know you outside of the scenarios, but I…” He places his hand over his chest. “These feelings, I will not deny them.”
“I…” Kim Dokja managed to squeeze out. The facts were rapidly being pieced together in his head. According to the tome, True Love’s Kiss could be achieved if both parties felt mutual love for each other. Unrequited love was not counted under True Love. If the kiss they had shared truly, _ truly, _ counted as true love’s kiss, then it meant that Yoo Jonghyuk…
Kim Dokja couldn’t comprehend it. He wouldn’t comprehend it.
[The exclusive skill ‘Fourth Wall’ has been strongly activated!]
『SKILL USAGE: [FOURTH WALL] DETECTED』
『WARNING! USAGE OF SUCH SKILLS WILL CAUSE AN INSTANT WORLD FAILURE』
『WARNING! USAGE OF S̢̫̰U͏̴̜̠̲͈̥͖͢C̣̳͉̝͍͔̤H͍̜̯͙͘ ̬͓̱̦̪̻̕S͔̠͘K̸̢̙̳̭̻̤͖̪Į̳̪̭̰̖͈̯ͅL͓̹̣͜͠L̤̰͇̱͖̬ͅS҉̲̳ ̷̡̘͎̯͝W̵̡̲͉I͏̸̹̼͇L̞̭͢͠Ḷ̰̺͓͝ ͔̖͈̹͎͔ͅC̛̪̪̞̮͙͜A͔̫͉̣͖̟U̞̙̪̪̘̼S̶̮̻̰͖̹̗̕E̙͙̪̱̣͠ ̸͕̖̺̖̝A̴̜͕̣͘N̬̤̗͇̟͖̥ ̪̫͡͞I̢͇̝̳̟̖͖̣̣͜͞N҉̖͎̩̤͉̪S̡̘͚͞Ṭ͕̺͉̲͇̫͢ͅA̸̟̤͍̳̻̱̖N̤̘̺̹̜͇̣͟͜͞Ṭ̛̛͎̭͞ ͙̥W̙͇͇O͏͔̱͜R҉̤͉̘͜L͍̩͙̥̠̫̻ͅD̙̟͔͙͜ ̴͉̪̤͜F̨̡̯͈̻̦̼̮̹A̴̹̬̳̘͕̳̮̪͞͠I̝̼̹̼̼͙̕͡L̠͍͔͜ͅU̢̗̟̻͓̩R͇̣̫̕E̵̻』
『W̢҉̩̠̳̘̼͍̻͈͝A̷̫̠̟̥̦͓͇̗̘R̬̹̲̻͚N̲̟͓̬̹͍̹I͏̸̵͈̦N̨̻̣̝͈͉͖̬͡G̷̨̙͇̪̞!̗͓̳̬̦ ̢̧͏̰̰Ự̸̖̣͠S̬̳̬̲A̪G̵͈͈E̴̶̱̺̙̖͟ ̼̫O̹͜͞F̞̗̥̝͘ ̳̟͚̩̖͟⬛̶̧̖͓̣͈̤͎⬛̴͏̙͓⬛҉͇̘̫̣͙̙̝⬛̷̡̜̟͜⬛̲̱͍̕ͅ⬛̤̰̫̥̺̭̹͙⬛͎̞͍͍̠͞』
『E͖̝̺̜̫̪͢͢͝ͅR̷̭̬͍͖̣̺͎̕͠R͕̘̻͜͜͝ͅO̪͓͚͍̖̩̻͟͠R͏̡̺̫͝ ͈̱͜͟D͏̯̞̠̝̼͞͡⬛̸͓͚̣̬͖͙͝T͓̤͞E̙̬͓̤̤̻͇C̴̛̤̙͠T̴̥̟̬̫͞Ȩ̸͍̹̙D͍̪̙̮̙͜͝』
『W̢̮̤̟̘̖̩A̡̨̯͖̣̙̬̥̣R̢͚͉N̬̪͍͡I̧̪̪͚̥̣̕͡ͅN͡҉̜̫̘̦̬͔̙G̼̮̞̥͚̩̪:̮̬̻̠͈̥̘ ͓̻̠͎̤̰̠͢F͏̳̯̱̜̕A̠̕T͉͎̭̯͎͘A̡̺͎̳̺ͅL͖͎͎̲͎ ̨͍͇̩̹E̸̡͈͉̼̺͕̯R̲̯̣̻̜R̢̩͕͉͉͟⬛̧̢̗̭͢R̵̗͙̖̪̫͘ͅ ̻͉̤̝͖̘͠D͏̥͎͓̺̻͙͝⬛̸̢̥̟͙̯T̸͜͏͕E̼̼̬͎̙̺̱͖̻C̯͈͘͜T̶̹̯̳̭̞ͅĘ̷̞̰̥ͅD̨̳̙̮̬͙͚̲』
『W̨̜̯͚͙̫̩̬͠Ą͓̝͍͇̦̟͕̫R҉̭̲̥̙ͅN҉̶̧͓̫̠I̷̯͎͜͜N͙̬͟Ģ̫̳̭͇̯̙』
『W̘͈̘͉̟͇̩͙̼⬛̶̺̤͜R̵̛̘̮̖⬛̸̶͈͉͖̹̲̺͢I̢̖̘̦͕͙̥͞Ņ̶҉̮⬛̻̺̝̗͚̙̟̬̕』
『W̧̾̾ͪ̍ͫ͑̋҉̻͍⬛̮̟̼͕̟̗̐̋̐̉̒̓Ŗ̨ͣ̋̎͏̭̩͕̗̦͔̳̤͉⬛̝͓͍͇̱̩̘͕͙̈́̽̅̕⬛͚̞̞̻́̍̿̅ͣ͑ͫ̕͠⬛͖͙͐̃̚͘』
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『LOADING WORLD...』
『ERROR 』
『LOAD FAILED . DATABASE CANNOT BE DETECTED 』
『 SEARCHING FOR STORIES...』
『STORY FOUND』
『LOADING STORY...』
『STORY LOADED』
Yoo Jonghyuk woke up.
He was in a black space where the dark stretched out for seemingly forever, with no end in sight. A man in a white coat stood in front of him, back facing him. Before the man was a large pile of paper, both torn and not, but all filled with words.
Filled with stories.
“Kim Dokja?” |
78e4258dd334445a888f6ad74c2e55d7 | ['db394d3bbe614a0ca1c3bfda8019ecf2'] | Billy's friend
The sun was setting, children were laughing. I was going to visit Billy, like every day since the last 3 months. Max and I were the only ones to go see him, his father did not even go to the funeral. Jonathan, Nancy and the kids, went there at first, but not anymore.
That's why I was surprised to see someone in front of his grave stood, a boy, a boy I had never seen before. He was sitting with his legs up under his chin. Tears ran down his cheeks, his lips moved, but I could not hear what he was saying.
\- Hello?
He jumped, wiped his tears, got up, and looked at me. He was very handsome, and tanned. His brown hair was tied in a disordered bun, and his green eyes were filled with grief.
\- I'm sorry, I didn't want to scare you.
\- It's ok ...
\- Are you a friend of Billy?
\- Sort of ...
\- I'm Steve. Steve Ha-
\- Steve Harrington. I know.
\- Billy told you about me ?
\- Unfortunately yeah.
\- Why ? He hated me.
The boy snorted. From grief, fun, or annoyance? I didn't really know. Then he lit a cigarette, and I saw something swinging at the end of his left wrist. It was a necklace, the same as Billy's.
\- I forgot your name.
\- I didn't tell you ...
\- Where are you from ?
\- Not from here ...
He blew smoke through his nose, looked at the grave one last time, and left the graveyard without looking at me.
\- Bye pretty boy. He would have chosen you anyway.
I never saw him again.
**Author's Note:**
> At first I wanted to give a name to the character, but I changed my mind at the last minute. | dcd49cd0d5cf46388a42db5aabfbe37e | ['db394d3bbe614a0ca1c3bfda8019ecf2'] | Unpleasant conversation
I was watching them through the window, happy, joking, and smiling to each other. That made me sick. How can they still look at each other in a mirror after what they had done? After taking a life, and put the blame on the back of a dead person? Bryce Walker was a monster, and Monty, Monty wasn't a good person either, at least, not the one they had know... But in what way were they better? Why kill and protect a killer, was better than what Bryce or Monty had done? Why was Monty arrested, and not them?
Why is Monty dead, and not them?
God, I hate them so much!
The girl who had asked me questions the other day, with the weird boy, Ray, or something like that, was about to go out. I should leave now, and do what I planned to do, but no, I need answers, and she'll give me some.
When she saw me, she froze, she probably didn't expect to find me here to ruin their little party.
**\- What did you tell the cops ?**
**\- Look, Winston-**
**\- He didn't kill Bryce. He was with me.**
She knew it, she followed us. Despite this, she remained silent and looked at me with a strange gleam in her eyes. Regret? Compassion? Misunderstanding? I don't really know.
**\- What did you tell em ?**
I asked her again. And her answer totally made me want to scream.
**\- Winston ... He was already gone.**
How dare she tell me that? It's like she was saying :**_ « Oh you know, he was dead! So, we thought, why not? It will not bother him after all!»_**. This bitch has nerve!
**\- He was a human being ! Okay ? He was a human being. He didn't deserve to die like that.**
**\- I know...**
She knows? She knows !
I can't stay here anymore, it was a bad idea to come, I decided to turn around before doing something that I would regret. I will let them enjoy their small victory. Yes guys, do it. Because in a short time, even lies will not be able to protect you anymore.
**Author's Note:**
> Next season, Winston will reveal the truth, and it will hurt! I CAN'T WAIT !!!!
>
> (Thanks for reading <3 ) |
5f6644d9946c4f4a8ed0701f0500d9fa | ['db769f241b6c4588a644d4914c522498'] | This new position drove a wedge between the woman she had always been and the symbol she was forced to become. Byleth had been forbidden from cutting her own hair (as she always had) in favor of it being expertly snipped by professionals. She’d been denied large freedoms such as roaming the countryside alone to small luxuries such as grooming herself. The Sword of the Creator itself had become largely symbolic, ornamental as it hung from a decorative hilt at her side. Byleth would not pretend as though she loved war nor strife, but it had been all she’d ever known. She’d cut her teeth on brutality and now found herself toothless.
How could she raise a baby, when her earliest memories included her father’s arms wrapped around her on the saddle, his calloused hands tight upon the reigns as they bounced? She knew no permanent home nor comfort, and therefore could not exude stability to her child. How could she raise a baby, when she remembered how her father broke her knuckles at ten? The people here seemed scandalized by her rigorous training regimen and stalwart nature; she wanted her child to be strong, but was Jeralt’s strict nature something to emulate? How could she raise a baby within this strange new world of perfume and poison, when she herself was barely adapting? The child that grew within her was not her own, instead belonging to all of Fódlan. Only Lorenz, the eldest son of Duke Gloucester and the future of that land, could ever know what that was like.
The prolonged intensity of her own green eyes roused her to action. She could not do this without Lorenz’s help. It was maddening to be within an environment where she did not thrive and instead felt wholly at the mercy of another’s tutelage. Perhaps her child would flourish here, the halls of this palace their own personal classroom and battlefield. The foundation of that possibility all started with Hilda. She rose, straight backed and imposing, her feet carrying her towards the drawing room. Whether she liked it or not, it was time.
When Byleth advanced through the open, airy halls of the palace nervousness twisted within her gut. She appeared before the door to the drawing room all too suddenly, a page bowing and granting her entry with a flourish. Sitting in the drawing room, at a table heavily laden with iced cakes and jams of every flavor, was her favorite pink-haired warmaster.
“Hey, Your Majesty,” her voice was drawn out and playful. “I knew you’d want to hang out. As much as I love lounging around your fancy palace, I do get awful bored.”
Byleth smiled as she approached, taking the seat opposite her friend. She noted that Hilda wore a dazzling array of color coordinated baubles, looking very much like an expensive chandelier. “It is rather dull.”
“Oh, that’s only because you’re not used to real life. Who knows what will happen now that you’re here, hm?”
Byleth hummed a quizzical reply as she picked up a small silver knife, spreading a scoop of jam on a crumbling biscuit. She prayed it settled her stomach rather than turn it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Hilda snorted and sipped her tea. “You know; backflipping, sword whipping, dragon slashing—that kind of stuff. It follows you like a bad rash.”
It was Byleth’s turn to laugh despite her general unease. A quiet chuckle was all she could muster as she sank her teeth into the sweet pastry, politely covering her mouth with her palm. “I suppose it does.”
“Yeah, but that’s what makes you so fun, I guess.” Hilda watched as her friend finished her pastry with a gusto that couldn’t quite be considered proper. The Professor had always had such a large appetite, after all. “You don't usually call me for breakfast though. You must have been really bored.”
The queen sputtered and gave an unwieldy gasp at the biscuit’s dry descent. Hilda watched with a keen eye as Byleth poured herself tea, drank it too quickly, and coughed once more. She’s about to stand and slap the woman’s back when Byleth shook her head to indicate she was okay.
After a moment’s reprieve and deep breathing, Byleth figured she had been found out. “Actually, I had a favor to ask.”
Hilda winced comically, flashing her a wink to mask sudden nervousness. “Oh, Your Majesty, I don’t really do favors.”
“I know, but this one is important.”
She leaned inward with her elbows on the small table, closing some of the distance between them. The scooting motion ruffled a doily. “I _especially_ don’t do important favors, Professor.” Her voice had dropped in volume, large eyes searching for any hint of Byleth’s intent. The new title lost out in favor of the old, slipping through the cracks of protocol.
Byleth knew Hilda’s body language well. Much like herself, it was her truest method of communication; what Hilda said and what Hilda meant were almost never in synchrony. It was obvious that Hilda was agreeing now, that she was concerned, and that now more than ever she was also _nosy._
“If I asked you to fly to Gloucester estate in six days’ time with an important missive, would you do it?”
She made a noise of surprise. “Like an express message?”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
“Lorenz.”
“...why are you asking me so far in advance? Why would you need an express messenger in six days? That sorta defeats the ‘express’ bit.”
Byleth sat her teacup down and steadied her breath. She released a long, slow exhale as if preparing to give a grave sermon. “That’s. Well. If I tell you now, can you keep a secret until you leave?”
Hilda chewed at the inside of her cheek, visibly weighing the question. “What happens if I can’t?” | aa6f534e872d403b8270d78d9287bbe6 | ['db769f241b6c4588a644d4914c522498'] | Marianne Edmund was quick to rise, beaming at her friend through reddened cheeks. Ingrid Gautier followed quickly, hoisting her husband up by their intertwined fingers. Count Bergliez and Lord Hevring rose after an exchanged look, until one by one they all stood surrounding her seated frame. A boy no older than eighteen scribbled her decree upon royal stationary, where it would be formally presented later for her seal of approval. Blood rang in her ears at the decision she had made, all for the glory and preservation of Fodlan.
“Aye, Your Majesty,” came the uniform reply. She offered them a small smile then, feeling as if a large political victory had been won.
She could only pray that Lorenz felt the same.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> At this point I'm Making Stuff Up As I Go. I should have one more chapter where they reunite, and then I can finally do one-shots of her pregnancy/raising the baby! Thanks for reading guys, ILU all ;~;
9. Chapter 9
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lorenz returns to his wife.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am so sorry for how long it took to get this update out! I really appreciate all of the comments I’ve gotten on this fic, they really kept me going and make me want to keep updating it. I know things are crazy right now so I also wanna say that I hope you guys are staying safe! Thank you thank you thank you for reading, I’ve still got a couple more updates to do before I consider this one done. We’ll get through this!
After a full thirty one days of separation, Lorenz was finally due to return. His land had been deemed sufficiently stable by the strict authority of Count Gloucester who, in all honesty, was likely anxious to be rid of his son. Lorenz himself took no offense at the notion, rather resolving to press down the unpleasant thoughts his father’s gouging had stirred. Hopefully distance was the key to unlocking such peace.
While he would never come out and assert such a feeling directly, it was becoming clearer in his mind that the County of Gloucester was less a home and more an inherited duty. While it had provided a welcome distraction at first it had since warped into a horrid obstacle. He hoped that sensation would not become routine and applauded his own futile optimism.
Now that his duties both to his county and his country were fully satisfied, he could finally return to his expectant wife in Derdriu. Knowing of her delicate state increased his eagerness to return to her; stress was bad for pregnancies, and Byleth did not yet seem entirely confident with sovereignty. He could not arrive a moment too soon.
Lorenz’s hips currently ached with the sway of the steed beneath him. The journey from his family manor in county Gloucester to the palace in Derdriu was lengthy, at least five days' ride at a comfortable pace. The pace he’d set had ensured a timely arrival, and the smell of salted sea breeze hit their nostrils on the evening of the fourth day. While his retinue of loyal crownsguard matched his pace without gripe or comment, he could tell that his swift pace and early mornings had worn their patience thin.
Still, the air was heavy and repressive as the season of storms birthed the Horsebow Moon. They had been blessed by the goddess, who saw fit not to unleash rain upon them, but the late summer heat was taking its toll. He could not contain a sigh of relief when cresting a low rising hill upon the main road revealed the city in all its splendor.
Derdriu came into sharp focus, and the thirty men that accompanied him gave a whoop into the evening air. Dusk had fallen to reveal twinkling stars above the city, whose firelight guided the men home. The sea expanded beyond in inky blackness, the line separating sky from salt an indigo partition. His eyes crinkled at the sight of his new home.
Their descent found them at city gates who gladly opened to permit them. While most of the populace had returned home for the evening, some still rushed to view the arrival of a high noble. The queen’s husband was a sight seldom seen in the lower wards of the city, who drank his visage and gave cries of appraisal as the retinue passed.
Cobblestone street expanded before them on the path to the palace, and with each passing moment Lorenz felt his heart stutter. He would see her soon; the guards at the gate would send immediate word to the palace to receive him. Byleth had likely already been informed of his impending arrival. His stomach flipped at the thought; Goddess, he had missed her so.
Looking down at himself he realized he was in no state to receive his wife’s audience. Though he ached for her, the mere notion of appearing before her in his current state was a horror. A ponytail was his only weapon against the limp and greasy lilac that was his hair. His armor was well worn and the clothing beneath was slick with sweat. Days of travelling in the late summer heat had left him disgusting, certainly not worthy of standing before a queen.
Once he finally reached the palace he dismounted before the grand white-stone steps. His legs ached as he handed the steed away to a footman, grinning from ear to ear. It felt incredible to be on his feet after hours of riding, and he straightened his back to pristine posture. Others came to greet him, bowing before their queen’s consort, and one short man with dark hair and eyes stepped forward. |
50c8e684cee94458b73a34d84113dc75 | ['db805eeabe3b4fc787895a797bba30e8'] |
Fractured Light
**Author's Note:**
> Written some time ago as a part of a writing meme on tumblr. But I just remembered my AO3 account (2 years later) and decided to publish it here, because why not.
He, who sought freedom. He left the old Creation ages ago. He disappeared in the Void, leaving the broken world behind him. The ruins of Silver City, broken stories, unfinished endings and the wrecks of people. Everybody got to play their part in his fight with predestination and Fate spared no-one. There were many that fell victim to his pride. Michael Demiurgos, Cal, Bergelmir, Beatrice Wechsler, Jill Presto, Mona Doyle, Mazikeen, even Izanami no Mikoto. All the allies and enemies alike - their lives downgraded, perhaps as an unintentional result, but as the battle was all his, there was nobody but him to blame.
Yet, Lucifer was not the one who cleaned all the mess. No. Once he was gone, the fate of the living and dead, the fate of the entire Universe was left in the hands of but a little child. Once he got what he was looking for, it was she who was left in the dismal, broken world - trying to fix the unfixable, heal the wounds, redecorate and make space for what was yet to come. And while the young spirit might have bent the rules a little to save the loved ones after the Mocker’s little play, she should never be put to blame for that. After all, she was still a Presence in training.
Nobody recognized her pain, as Elaine hid it behind professionalism. Lucifer led her into the trap he set for her and in the end she was left with no other choice but to take the job. And yet, she was still the one that could not bring herself to inculpate him for all that has happened. Because Lucifer, just like every other being, still had so much to learn, so much to understand. And although he learnt this lesson the hard way, he now knew that the Presence was less free than anyone else.
Back from nothing into something. From countless possibilities into a precise one. From the Void back into the old Creation. Perhaps Lucifer remembered Elaine and knew what price she had to pay for siding with him. Perhaps, somewhere upon a dream, he even felt guilty for what he had done to her. But she was not the reason he came back. After all, the image was blurry, unclear.
There was but one memory that shone ever so brightly. The one person, whose face he could not forget. She, who bathed in his light to be given the fire of his, his name and his nature. She, who made sure not to be forgotten - her passion for him was never-ending, her love was almost painful and her dedication unswerving. She, who had not even once turned against him, but walked by his side until the very end. Finally, she, who had seen past his pride - the one he let inside. His companion and his **equal**.
He was here, upon the gate to Creation, marked with a scar across his face. A gift from her - for it was the only time she raised her sword against him. The only time she did not agree with whom she called her Lord. He wasn’t able to forget - he was certain that no matter what, he would wear the coat made out of the after image of their relationship even if her words were now engraved into his very being. But she did act upon her feelings, she gave him things to ponder upon.
_“[…] but you will prove yourself a **coward** if you do. A coward and a **liar** ”_
He did not stop her then. He did not heal the wound. He still left and he knew that for her he was no longer there - yet she had to wear his title like a stigma, which always reminded her of the past. Of what they were and what shaped them into people they became later. The shared poisons, wounds that never healed properly and wars fought together.
_“You think that walking away from your life makes you **free** , my Lord? That you can still be born again so **easily**?”_
Lucifer knew nothing about Mazikeen’s present. Nothing more than the fact she chose to stay with Beatrice Wechsler. And it was Beatrice he visited to learn about Mazikeen’s new whereabouts.
***
The woman he had in front of him used to be a waitress in Lux. But it was a long time ago and now a thick layer of wrinkles covered her face. While she would still look charming with a smile, she greeted him with a frown. Her memory was not as good as it used to be, but she would never forget him. Not because of what he did to her. After all she was but a mortal, her life fickle and she could not hold a grudge for what was done to her. But what he did to the woman that was both her lover and her best friend was unforgivable. Where Mazikeen offered him nothing but dedication, he left her behind like a tool that became useless. With a poor substitute for their union. Beatrice could not look at this man without showing her hatred. Yet, she still gave him the information when he inquired.
However, she did not know much. She requested Mazikeen to leave her before she turned old. They could not grow old together, since Mazikeen was cursed with longevity. They both knew it wasn’t their forever and they made a silent vow, so that they would part their ways before Beatrice grows weary. And though she missed Mazikeen, she could not selfishly hold her back, for the Lilim warrior had her own life to live. | a2128fa3504542fa8ff7a203d4c46bd9 | ['db805eeabe3b4fc787895a797bba30e8'] | What she told Lucifer was that Mazikeen left ten years ago and they never spoke about what was going to happen to either of them after her departure. Therefore, Lucifer’s next steps led him to Briadach the Blind - the half-brother of Mazikeen, the Lilim who was the closest to her.
***
The seed and the rot, the birth and the death. Although Briadach couldn’t see past the beginnings and endings of things, he had an answer for Lucifer.
“Mazikeen has died”
If anything broke in Lucifer at that point, he did not let it show upon his mien. His expression remained cold. The scar across his face - a silent reminder of his hauteur and selfishness, made him look almost proud. Perfect in his stillness, like the surface of a lake during a breezeless morning, unwavered, beautiful and scary. But otherwise, seemingly at peace with itself. He left Briadach attended by his guards.
The light fissures, but it doesn’t shatter. Fractals fall off one by one, as if the rest of them were still held in one piece by some superior force. This vis major that refuses to drop the mask of perfect composure to show all the feelings, touches, emotions towards one person, whom Lucifer remembered. Whom he could no longer imagine his life without. Now, he is put in the situation in which he has to face the future without one he held the closest.
But soon, sensory disturbances appear and although he is aware where his feet lead him, who he is talking to, the events happening around him, he is no longer an active participant. Life is but a background for the tragedy that plays out in his mind, which is now filled with scents, images, sounds, the gentle pressure of her fingertips against his shoulder whenever she was worried about him. It is saturated with her obedience and her faith in him. The vows she made, the breathless moans she let out when he touched her and the reassuring silence when she was there for him - her sword always ready. The warrior with unwavering loyalty. The beauty hiding behind the white mask - she was there for him like she was for nobody else. She gave herself whole unto him, never questioning his methods, nor demanding explanations for his decisions. The woman, his lover, his equal. One that could never be replaced.
And what had he offered her in return? As little as he had to give. Always looking towards the greater goal, towards his final destination - his great escape. His complete freedom. Stubborn and proud, he chased after a utopian meaning behind that word. To escape predestination. But wasn’t it him who shaped his own destiny from the very beginning? Wasn’t he choosing between countless possibilities which lead to different endings? In the end, he gave away the perfect ending of his to chase after the unobtainable ideals. No. He took away her perfect ending in the name of his ideals.
What he gave her - his parting gift, could as well be the death of hers. The title Morningstar only added enemies to her list. Especially after another Mikoto came to this world - from his youngest age fed with stories about his deceased siblings and their relation to the Lightbringer. Was it done subconsciously? Was he really this childish that he only desired the ideals that he could not have and strayed further away from everything that could give him some happiness, safety perhaps?
Now, even though this was her tragedy, he selfishly managed to turn it into his. A solitary star that gave up its light for the only one he would ever marry - he, whom no one would weep for.
Mazikeen managed what nobody ever had been able to manage before her - she made him question himself and his motives. She made him remember, oh, and how she made him fall… Fall and crash, and it was all his fault for he forbid her to follow him through the Void.
He did not realise where he was going until he stopped. The edge of the world - he stood there in aleph, where he could see everything. Not really waiting for any particular moment, for he had no intention to interfere with what was now under Elaine’s rule.
Elaine’s Voice pulsated through the entire Creation. It found its way and seeped into Lucifer’s body and mind. He became one with the world, just like in the beginning of time. Elaine knows, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes. And the thought was oddly calming. Elaine knew how sorry he was and it was enough. |
99bec21b0a574a3bbebc91cdbf0bf09f | ['db882e89dbd04ac9bb3b085d7942318b'] | Your friend moaned as the black haired guy rode him with his member flapping on Jimin's stomach.
With a final pump both of them came after an hour long make out session which started in the cab, they took to reach the apartment.
The tall guy plopped to the side of Jimin to calm his tired state. Jimin caressed his cheek and then kissed him deeply.
"You were so fucking amazing, baby." he said before kissing the forehead of the tired guy.
"Thank you. You were great too." he blushed before slowly dozing off too sleep.
Jimin got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. He came back and went under the covers with the beautiful boy next to him.
He checked his phone because he was unable to do that when he had company. He clicked the message box to find your message.
Sandy Boo
How did it go?
Jimin
It was so fucking
awesome! Haven't
had this much fun
in a while.
Sandy Boo
That's great. What's
his name?
Jimin
Tf! I didn't tell u
his name? He's
Taehyung. And
why are you still
awake?
Sandy Boo
I was waiting for
what you wanted to
suggest.
Jimin
Oh right! I was going
to suggest that you
throw a bachelorette
party with strippers
& all. You know what
I mean right ;)
Sandy Boo
I don't have friends
except for you Jimin.
Jimin
Damn, I really forgot.
Sandy Boo
It's okay :)
Jimin
Nooooo. We need a
new plan...........
Sandy Boo
There's no need.
I'm fine as I'm .
Jimin
Who are you kidding?
Ik you need to have fun
one last time as a single
person. Maybe it will help
your marriage.
Help with marriage? You really needed help with marriage or you'd end up making Nathan's life boring and lifeless as well.
Sandy Boo
Okay tell me and I'll
think about it.
Jimin
Yassss.
So how about a
road trip? And the
best part.....wait for
it.................
Sandy Boo
Stop with the periods
Jimin
YOU'LL GO ALONE!
Sandy Boo
Good joke Jimin.
Goodnight.
Jimin
I'm not kidding.
Think about it.
Sandy Boo
I thought about it.
It's a bad idea.
Now bye.
Jimin
Goodnight and I'm
sending you on that
solo roadtrip <3
You put your phone on the side table thinking about what Jimin suggested.
A solo roadtrip?
It can be fun to be alone.
But what if your car broke down?
What if you got mugged?
What if you got stranded?
All kinds of 'what ifs' started filling your mind, considering a solo roadtrip.
I can't do it. It's not for me.
These were the last words that came to your mind before sleep took over your body.
___________________________________
2. Chapter 2
"Sandy, just think about it. You're being paranoid for nothing." Jimin said as he had spent about an hour trying to convince you to go on that solo roadtrip.
You thought that he'll forget about it after last night but he's adamant about sending you.
"You don't understand Jimin, it'll be waste of money and time. I just can't do it." you tried your best to keep Jimin off your back.
"You're being straight boring here." Jimin spat it out in frustration.
"I've always been boring. It's not something new." you spoke lowly as realty hit you again.
Jimin sensed the sadness in your voice. He now felt bad for being so rude. He came close to you and embraced you in a hug.
"I'm sorry. You're not boring. You know I didn't mean it. I just want you to try giving your life a chance, it's not as dull as you think it is." His warmth calmed you as he spilled words in your ear.
"Please, do this for me, you and your forth coming life. I promise it'll be worth it." He tried his best to alter your decisions with his honey like words.
You stood there in his hands thinking about his words.
"Maybe he's right. It's time I start taking risks or this life will suck forever." You thought to yourself.
Jimin pulled back and held you while looking into your eyes. "So...? You going?" he asked with his puppy eyes glimmering.
"But where will I go?" you answered with another question.
"Oh my god yesss!" this time he picked you up in excitement, "You know it'll be so amazing. You'll enjoy it so much. I'll make sure everything thing goes smooth as butter. I PROMISE!" he kept shouting in zest while spinning you in circles.
"Put me down! I'm gonna faint!" You shouted back in order to stop this pink hurricane.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just went with the flow." he said putting you down. "Let's go to the coffee shop later and we can discuss the details." he said in a hurry while hopping a little.
You smiled and nodded in response. Even if the trip plan turns out opposite for you, you'll be happy that you made Jimin happy a little in god knows how long.
Later, you arrived a little at the coffee shop and spotted your cotton candy friend stealing kisses from the tall guy you saw yesterday.
"I'm here." you interrupted the two with your words and unwanted blush.
"Ah, sorry. I'll get both of you your orders." the Taehyung guy fumbled as he found the situation a little embarrassing.
"No, it's fine. Sit down. I'll call someone else." you said as you smiled a bit to ease his uneasy state.
"Sandy, this Taehyung and Taehyung, this is Sandy or Sandra, my bestie." Jimin lightened the situation further with the introductions.
You shook Taehyung's hand and he did the same with pretty smile on his face.
"Nice to meet you, I hope we get along." Taehyung said as he gently pulled his hand back. | 5108053386354307a62ac9d4a58ca8be | ['db882e89dbd04ac9bb3b085d7942318b'] | "Baby, I need to talk to her about that trip, so would you mind bringing us two cappuccinos?" Jimin said as he sweetly smiled at Taehyung.
With that Taehyung went off to fetch us coffee. "You told him? About me going to a trip which is not finalized yet?" you asked Jimin as you were really confused about the fact that Jimin had told him and he just met him a day before.
"I'm sorry about that. He asked why was I so worked up and I just told him. I know it's been a day with him but he's too nice and I couldn't control myself from telling." he tried to explain with his eyes wide open and a small pout. You could sense the admiration for Taehyung in Jimin's voice and that made you really happy.
"It's fine. So what did you want to discuss?" you asked.
"Oh yes, about the trip. How about you go to Vegas? I mean you have never been there and who knows if you get lucky with a stripper." Jimin said with a wicked smile on his face.
"Are you crazy, Jimin? It's like a 2 day long drive. How will I do that alone?" you said bewildered.
You weren't sure if he was joking or serious. You were already hella scared of doing this and now he was proposing these stupid ideas.
"I'm not crazy, I'm serious. You can do a lot of stuff alone like slow driving while listening to music, aesthetics all along the way and you don't have to drive for 2 days straight, you can take rest in a motel or so." He again tried to calm you down with best options.
"Even with you around me, I give off the boring vibes. How am I supposed to recover my dullness by being on my own?" you argued with a reason.
"You need find your feet, Sandy and for that you gotta give yourself time. This trip could be your last chance." Jimin's words did hold the truth. It was your life that tasteless, so it was your job to make it a little flavourful by putting in some efforts.
Jimin saw your 'lost in deep thoughts' face, "You know, you can always get yourself a hitchhiker, to keep you company." he suggested further.
"A hitchhiker? What if they are a murderer or something?" you said with a terrified tone.
"Believe me, hitchhiker's can be so fun." Taehyung surprised you as he said this while placing your coffee mugs.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interfere with your personal matters." He said further with an apologetic smile.
"No, it's fine. Come sit here and try convincing her about the trip with me." Jimin backed the boy while pulling him to sit.
"Well, in my experience, hitchhiker's are not always dangerous as they show in the movies. They can be fun too." Taehyung said with excitement.
"That's exactly my point too. You can keep pepper spray or something for your safety." Jimin said casually.
At this point, you felt defeated. You can't argue with them because your experience with such incidents was zero.
"Alright, I'll see to the hitchhiker thing. Upcoming weekend will be good for the trip, I think." you said.
"No wait for weekend. You'll leave day after tomorrow and spend at least 4 days in Vegas." Jimin declared.
"What will I do there for 4 days? And I need time to pack and file for a vacation in the office." you responded.
"I'll arrange for everything but I want you to leave as soon as possible because I looked up and they have this gala party at the resort I booked for you." Jimin said in one breath while whining like a baby.
"You booked the hotel already!?" you screamed.
___________________________________
Expensive, expensive and expensive was all that came to your mind as you entered the restaurant where Nathan had made the reservations for dinner.
It was finalized earlier in the coffee shop that you will be leaving for Vegas in approximately 30 hours. Jimin had already done a paid booking for your stay at a resort. That fool also got you a week's vacation from work, he was desperate to send you so you had to agree.
"Sandra? Are you okay?" you snapped out of your thoughts as you heard Nathan's words.
"Yeah, I'm fine." you said with a smile.
"Shall we order?" and with that Nathan ordered two steak dishes. He was always the one who ordered for the both of you because he doubted your choices. Well, can't blame him. Your choices were not that great anyways, you thought.
The wine had been served and you both were waiting for the food to be served. You thought now would be a good time to tell Nathan about your trip.
"Ah Nathan, I wanted you to know that I'll be going on a trip to Vegas." you said without meeting his eyes.
"Vegas? For Bachelorette party or something? Who's going with you?" he asked as he started sipping his wine.
"I'm actually going alone by my car." as soon as you completed your sentence, Nathan choked on his drink.
"Alone? By car? To Vegas?" he asked it all at once as he cleared off the wine that spilled from his nose.
"Yeah, Jimin suggested I go on a solo roadtrip to give myself sometime before the marriage." you explained to him.
"But how will you manage it alone. You are like the least experienced person I know in context with these things." he almost said with a little mocking laugh.
"I guess.....it's time that I create my experiences." you said with a small smile. You didn't know where you got the confidence to say a thing like that. It was only in the afternoon when you were scared of doing this. |
8500b8c29bbd439eafdeb82c562cb605 | ['dbb40e53d44a4b92a3d4cfc031f5dc7c'] |
Milkshake Boy
**Author's Note:**
> I've never written an xReader before so, bare with me. I just couldn't get the idea of milkshake dates with this kid outta my head so, enjoy I guess <3
The first time you saw him he was with his friends. You'd ducked into the store to hide from the rain, pulling your hood down as you walked to the counter. You ordered yourself a vanilla milkshake before paying and moving to the side to let the next person order. Loud laughter drifted to your ears as your carded your fingers through your hair, glancing to a table by the window. There were seven boys sat around it, three of them throwing small balls of paper at the other, one with a notebook, the other three talking calmly amongst themselves. Your order was called and you collected it from the staff member, smiling politely as you moved to a table in the corner. You pulled your phone out of your pocket as you sat down, glancing out the window and sighing. The rain didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon. Texting your room-mate to tell them you'd be back later, you sipped your milkshake. Your eyes drifted to the table every now and then and you found yourself smiling at their antics. It was about 20 minutes later that you felt something hit your shoulder. Glancing down at the floor you saw a balled up food wrapper.
“Sorry, kid's got bad aim!” You heard someone shout, their voice tinted with laughter as you looked to the table again, to see a mix of apologetic smiles and amused faces. But one of them, you assumed it was the aforementioned kid had his head bowed, cheeks a light shade of pink. You found it cute. You leant down to pick up the wrapper before throwing it back at the shy boy. He looked up with wide eyes when it hit him square on his head, causing you and his friends to laugh. He blinked at you before smiling gently and damn. He really was cute. You noticed the rain had stopped and decided to head back, pulling your jacket on and binning your cup, smiling at the seven boys when one of them called out a goodbye.
The second time you saw him, you came to the conclusion that he and his friends used the dessert bar as a hang out. You set your laptop up at the same table you had been at last time, sipping on your strawberry milkshake. You'd decided to work here. You were lacking inspiration for your project and thought a change of scenery would help you out. Sometimes you wondered why you decided to major in English Literature, but you loved it with a passion. Just sometimes it got stressful. They were quieter this time, the three that were having a paper fight last time were gently nudging each other and poking the others before looking away, pretending it wasn't them. You found yourself watching them, they all seemed so happy and close, it was nice too see. It was about an hour in that you felt something hit your shoulder, and you blinked. Again? Looking up you saw a boy with orange hair smiling at you, his mouth a weird box shape, he motioned towards the cute boy from last time before looking away. You smirked. Picking up the balled up paper, you aimed and threw it at him, quickly ducking your head down to look at your screen, but you didn't miss the way his head snapped up in confusion, looking at his friends in turn. You laughed to yourself, he really was adorable.
The third time you saw him, he was on his own, head resting on his arms dejectedly. You glanced at him a little worried before heading to the counter to place your order. Just before you handed over the money though, you held up a hand.
“Hey, would it be possible to hold on a sec?” You asked, the worker simply nodding and waving you off as you thanked them and turned around, making your way to the table at the window.
“Hi.” You spoke, the boy shooting upright and meeting your eyes. He stared for a few seconds before nodding slowly.
“Um....Hi?” He spoke, voice a little nervous and you smiled gently. You decided that this guy was the cutest human you'd ever met.
“Sorry if this is weird but, I couldn't help but notice you were on your own today, what do you drink?” Your voice quietened a little at the end, hoping you hadn't freaked him out. Now that you thought about, offering a drink to someone you've only thrown balled up paper at could be considered a little bit weird. Your worries were squashed however, when he smiled lightly.
“Lemon milkshake.” He smiled and you nodded, heading back to the counter and adding his order onto yours. When they were ready, you made your way back to his table, pulling out a chair and placing your bag on the floor. He took the cup from you with both hands and smiled.
“Thanks.” You smiled, waving your hand.
“No worries.” You spoke as you sipped at your milkshake, the boy doing the same. After a few minutes you sighed.
“I'm Y/N.” You offered, holding out your hand. His eyes glanced to it before he took it.
“Jungkook.” He smiled, shaking your hand gently before going back to his milkshake. You spent the next hour talking about yourselves. You found out he was studying dance at the same university as you, he was a few months younger than you, he liked to sing too. You clicked with him well. Your phone buzzing pulled you out of your conversation as you picked it up.
“Ah, I've gotta go, my room-mate wants to go shopping.” You smiled and he nodded, standing up with you. | ec294cfbba304296af4f275c13984e0d | ['dbb40e53d44a4b92a3d4cfc031f5dc7c'] | _“What was strawberry?” He called, laughing when Taehyung emerged with a bottle of strawberry milkshake, shaking it about happily before sitting down beside the elder, snuggling into his side. Yoongi wrapped his arm around him and placed a light kiss on his forehead._
_“Hyung... I want to stay like this forever...”_
The memory made Yoongi's heart ache as new tears fell from his eyes, hand clutching his phone. He may be completely absolutely drunk but, that didn't mean he didn't miss Taehyung. He missed the younger like hell, the sound of his voice had set every nerve in his body on fire. The sound of a car door opening caught his attention.
“Yoongi-hyung come on.” Taehyung sighed as he gestured to the passenger seat, helping Yoongi as he gracefully fell into the car. Once Taehyung had seated himself in the drivers seat and buckled both himself and Yoongi in, he turned to the older. Yoongi kept his eyes down, trying to focus them on the glove-box and Taehyung sighed again before starting the car.
They sat in silence for a while, Taehyung focused on the road in front of them and Yoongi playing with his hands.
“Tae pull over.” Yoongi spoke abruptly when they turned on his road. Taehyung jumped a little before doing as told, stopping on the side of the road before turning to the older. Yoongi took a few deep breaths before meeting the youngers gaze.
“I...I don't think I can be away from you Taehyung. I know it's selfish but, I love you so much and my apartment feels so empty without your presence permanently there. Hell, I feel empty without you there. I can't sleep at night, I can't focus on music, if I do mange to get anything done it's about you, the lyrics are always about your stupid smile and your gorgeous skin, the melody is always reminding me of your laugh or your voice. I.. I really miss you.” The blonde choked out, hand coming to his mouth as he watched Taehyung's eyes widen. The younger blinked a few times before shaking his head, running his hands through his hair.
“I miss you like mad as well Yoongi-hyung, I really do just. Can we talk about this in the morning please?” He mumbled as the blonde nodded. Taehyung silently started up the car again, driving to Yoongi's apartment block. Yoongi glanced at his ex before climbing out of the car, a small thank you falling from his lips. Before he close the door, he felt a warm hand grab his wrist.
“Do... Can I stay the night?” A quiet voice drifted from the car to Yoongi's ears and honestly the blonde felt suddenly sober as turned to look at Taehyung. There was a desperation in the youngers eyes as the older nodded, immediately missing the warmth of the youngers hand on his wrist as Taehyung moved to get out of the car. It felt like forever before Taehyung was standing at his side, head ducked slightly as he waited for Yoongi to start walking.
When they entered Yoongi's apartment, Yoongi felt himself panic. The place was a mess, take-out boxes strewn across the floor, dirty dishes piled up in the sink, clothes hastily thrown on the furniture, torn and crumpled paper littering every inch of the carpet.
“I missed it here...” Taehyung spoke carefully, removing his jacket and shoes and when Yoongi turned around he couldn't control himself any longer. He threw himself at the younger, making him stumble backwards into the wall as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Taehyung was still for all of two seconds before his arms were wrapped tightly around the smallers waist, head leaning down against his shoulder.
“I really missed you Yoongi-hyung...” He spoke quietly, voice shaking from the sobs trying to escape his body. Yoongi began to stroke his hair, fighting back his own tears.
“I know, I missed you too Tae.” |
32151ca515d145f889d591945b9d01e8 | ['dbbffe28d80c465495f4b882109012c1'] | Small Dates, Small Talks, Small Progress
Naoto was incredibly nervous as he stood outside of the textile shop. His hat held in his hand, he tried to steady his breathing. Why was he so nervous? He had already talked with Kanji about it before, so why was now so much different? Why did he want to cry?
No matter, he thought to himself, shaking his head as if it were an etch-a-sketch. He knocked lightly on the door, then listened keenly for the sound of footsteps. It felt like an eternity before he got a response, but it eventually came in the form of the door swinging open.
"Oh hey, Naoto," Kanji greeted with a small smile. "I assume you're here for the-"
"That is correct, Kanji-kun," Naoto responded, placing his hat back upon his head. "Are you ready to go, or should I allow you a moment or two to prepare yourself?"
Kanji was just wearing his normal, casual clothes - though Naoto also happened to be doing that, so it really didn't make much of a difference - and Naoto looked at him with a kind smile.
"I think I'm alright. Well, I am if you are," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. A flush colored his face from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his neck. "Shit, am I doing this right? I-I don't wanna insult ya, or hurt ya at all."
Naoto shook his head dismissively. "You're doing just fine, Kanji. I'm not offended, so don't worry about it." Then, the boy detective offered his hand to the tall blond. "Shall we go on our walk together?"
Kanji nodded, waiting a second to accept Naoto's hand as he shouted his farewells to his mother into the house, then shut the door with a cheesy grin, rubbing the back of his neck.
"She won't mind, will she?" Naoto asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Nah. She gets that I go outside at night often. I think she may have just given up on trying to control me. I'm not always sure on how to feel about that." he laughed, more to hide his worries than anything else.
Then, he took Naoto's hand in his own and moved off of his steps. Naoto responded with another one of his warm smiles that always somehow seemed to cause Kanji's heart to flutter wildly, the 'thump thump' noise ringing in his ears and pounding through his blood.
As Kanji stepped down off of the steps, Naoto stepped up them, giving himself some small amount of height so that he could be at eye level with Kanji. Then, he pressed his lips against Kanji's, and both of them felt as if they were on top of the world. Kanji's face turned impossibly redder, and Naoto's face also held quite a flush.
It was hard to kiss your boyfriend sometimes, when there was a height difference of an entire foot, but these two teens would make it work. They always did. | 8a9fb49d54f5449b9defe5e02e5ce600 | ['dbbffe28d80c465495f4b882109012c1'] | Dysphoria and the Friend Met Along the Way
Naoto sat alone, his hat held loosely in one hand, and with his other hand, he drummed his fingers on the table. He seemed to be deep in thought, and there was a slouch that arched his back as he sat. Perhaps it was good for trying to ignore his chest, but it wasn’t exactly easy on his back.
Naoto had been sitting there for a short while, no longer than thirty minutes, when he heard footsteps come nearer. He swiveled his head towards the noise.
Naoto sighed. “Oh, it’s just you, Akechi.”
Akechi silently took a seat beside Naoto, offering a small smile. Naoto struggled to smile back, too distracted with the thoughts thrashing and kicking around in his mind. Naoto stiffled a grimace, but not well enough.
“You seem worried over something, Naoto,” Akechi said softly.
“Yeah…” he tried to hold back his emotions, but another pang of dysphoria ruined any chance of that.
As dysphoria struck specifically towards his chest, Naoto’s body trembled fiercely, and tears slid down his face before finally coming to a point and dripping off of his chin. He shivered, trying to steady his harsh breathing and his piercing sobs.
Akechi offered his hand for support, more as a symbolic gesture than anything else.
“Is there any way I can possibly help?” Akechi asked, trying to keep his tone understanding, for Naoto’s sake.
“Only if you can erase all my dysphoria,” Naoto choked out in between sobs strong enough to make his entire body shake and tremble. He hated the feeling of his body, how his shadow had brought all of his issues out into the open. He also hoped that Akechi hadn’t heard.
“What was that?” Akechi asked, not sure if he had heard the smaller detective correctly.
Naoto couldn’t get out any more words in his current state, and he rested his head down on the table in front of him, tears wetting the cold metal.
“Naoto, whatever problem you might be facing, we can figure something out. The investigation team - they’re your friends, right? They would probably be more than happy to support you with what you’re dealing with.”
Naoto looked up from the table, casting a glance towards Akechi. His chest heaved for a few seconds, and then he finally spoke.
“I’ve brought up to you how I gained my persona, yes?” Akechi nodded. “It’s your deepest fears and desires made manifest. It also misrepresented me, if that makes any sense. It spoke like how I tend to speak of myself when I’m alone. I’m doing a lot better with that now, but….”
Naoto trailed off, took a deep breath, then decided that he was going to just finally do it. He was going to come out to Akechi.
“I’m trans…. meaning that despite how my body may look, I’m a guy on the inside. And I know that you might not understand this, and I can understand if you’re confused… I just needed to get this out.”
Akechi was silent for a few moments, pondering his own words. Naoto looked over again, and he was shaking.
“Naoto, I do get it,” Akechi finally spoke, rubbing one eye and wiping away a tear from the stress of his own ordeals. However, his flushed face revealed all his stress, and it was evident that Akechi himself was on the verge of crying. Akechi, however, was quicker at pushing it back, and wiped the tears away again.
“Naoto, I… I understand. I know how tough it is, having to deal with being misgendered. It hurts badly, I know. I speak from experience, because…” Akechi paused, gathering his words before continuing. “I’m also trans.”
Naoto looked surprised at first.
“B-but you pass so well, compared to me,” Naoto said between sobs.
“Naoto, I don’t know if my opinion matters in this, but I think that you pass just fine, especially for your age.”
“I’m fifteen-”
“I know. It still doesn’t negate the fact that you pass quite well, and if it weren’t for your shadow self saying the things it did, I have no doubt that the investigation team would be referring to you the same as when they met you.”
“How do I get them to stop calling me a girl, though? Did I ever mention th-the stuff that happened at the inn? All the progress I made towards appearing masculine, and it all gets swept away in an instant. I feel like they just don’t… don’t get it.”
“Talk to them about how you feel. If they’re your friends, they’ll understand, Plus, they’re your group of persona users who you can trust.”
“You didn’t exactly tell the whole truth to your group,” Naoto pointed out. “I wish I had gotten a chance to stay stealth, and just continue as a guy… I mean, your hidden truths _did_ cause all those problems with that Shido guy.”
“I know, I know.” Akechi sighed, placing his head in his hands for a moment as he relived those horrible memories. _Push them aside, Goro._
__
He looked up from his hands, managing a weak smile. “I’m working to improve, though, like I mentioned. It’s just a matter of improving. And if I can improve, then your investigation team can absolutely improve.”
Akechi held out a hand; it wasn’t in a romantic gesture. It was merely a show of support.
“And I’ll come with you; if you need me.” |
c32cdd657e6a453f8be9ad57fb495e77 | ['dbc49b1a079f41f0a4363ab9db4bc56b'] | “If…if we do this, you have to be quiet,” he whispers, replacing his hand down her pants shakily.
She nods seriously.
“You probably won’t get me to yell like that,” she whispers, her mouth wrestling with a grin.
In retaliation, Louis slides two fingers in her deeply, wringing a moan out of her that he just barely captures with his own mouth.
“I’ll be quiet,” she says when he pulls away.
“We can’t on the bed,” he says. “It’ll look fucked up and we can’t waste time tidying the sheets.”
Perrie nods again. “Where?”
Louis looks over his shoulders around the room. He considers the bathroom, but all he can think of is a shower fuck and it would be too obvious with damp hair and drenched clothes.
The desk arises as an option but it is covered with menus and city tourism guides that promise hidden treasures in the Big Apple and a large, useless desk calendar. He briefly imagines fucking Perrie while the books all fell to the floor and the calamitous noises it would all make.
But set apart from it is a large loveseat, angled in toward the bed a corner of the room. It is sturdy, solid and soft enough, if she’s willing.
“Chair,” he says.
He takes her hand and guides her to the chair, rubbing himself through his trousers, the anticipation of it making him painfully hard. He sits down in it, and pulls her forward over him so she is forced to bend her knees and bookend his legs with hers.
“D’you think you can manage this?” he asks her, sliding his hand between their pelvises to rub at her here again, his hand providing friction for both of them.
“Yeah,” she says. She bends to kiss him as she flicks her hips against his hand.
“We have to hurry,” he says, harshly.
Perrie stands up and pulls her trackies down to her ankles without any hesitation, her pale feet stepping out of the holes. Louis follows her lead, and shimmies out of his jeans, until they’re halfway down his thighs. His cock pushes against his pants, folded toward him at a horrid angle. He pushes it down to meet his jeans, freeing it to bob free. He strokes himself and she watches him, her eyes drawn to his quick-fire hand movements. She goes for the blue sides of her pants but Louis stops her.
“Leave it on,” he says, as he grabs her hand and pulls her over. “You can get dressed faster if you do.”
Perrie straddles him as Louis pulls her shirt up again, and caresses her breasts. She rocks herself along his length that makes him moan at the friction.
“I’m going to lose it if you keep doing that,” he says, ducking to taste her tits again.
“Good,” she says, biting her lip. She snaps her hips against his cock again, slowly, and Louis buries his head in the crook her neck, clenching her hips to still her.
“Stop, stop, stop,” he says.
She pauses.
He uses one hand to snatch her pants aside, and get a finger inside of her. Her warmth and wetness make his breathing go ragged. He adds another finger, thrusting inside of her and Perrie’s hips meet his fingers’ pace. Her cheek presses against his temple, her hot breath puffing against his ear as she rides his fingers.
He pulls out of her, sneaking a taste to which she gives him a gratified smile and grabs his cock as Perrie leans up enough for him to have room to position himself.
He guides himself into her but the combination of his shaking hands and her slickness has him slipping just short of his goal, feeling like a virgin all over again, fumbling for the right angle.
“You need to put me in, babe,” he says, giving up the last time his cock slides against her clit.
“Okay. Wait,” she says. “What about a condom?”
“Fuck,” Louis says, hitting his head against her collarbone, repeatedly. “I never use them with El. She takes care of that stuff.“
Perrie’s expression is unreadable. “You don’t just have any lying around for groupies?”
“I don’t fuck them…anymore.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“The groupies or the condoms, love?” he asks, putting hands on either side of her head, threading them through her hair that keeps falling loose. “Because I didn’t expect to be fucking you now, no matter how badly I’ve wanted to.”
He listens to her tremulous breathing for a beat. Then she reaches down between them and grasps him at the base of his shaft, stroking him for a beat until he begs, breathlessly, “In. Please. Please.”
She puts him at her opening and lowers herself on him, slowly until he’s all the way inside and panting against her shoulder. Without encouragement Perrie starts to move over him, as he tugs up her shirt. He gets a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking in between pauses to fuck up at her from underneath, clutching her waist and slamming into her with little finesse. He would be embarrassed if her head wasn’t going back, baring her neck as she follows his pace.
Louis senses his oncoming orgasm in the distance.
“What’s the thing you do? With your tits? To come?” he asks her as he thrusts upward, slowing the pace as much as he can.
“What?” Perrie asks, bleary blue eyes struggling to focus.
“You said…you said you can come from touching them,” he wheezes, squeezing her breasts to reinforce the subject. He needs her to hurry at this rate.
As she rides him she tweaks her nipples in half circles that entrance Louis. Her mouth opens with unsaid cries that he would kill someone to hear.
His right thigh tingles and he wonders if it has fallen asleep, the muscles prickling in their descent into slumber, until he realizes it is his phone.
Eleanor.
Here. | 5ba4a52aa4e34cd89e5b76564eae0ece | ['dbc49b1a079f41f0a4363ab9db4bc56b'] | “You need to go,” Louis tells her. “El’s going to be here soon and Zayn’s probably crying in the shower. You should go collect him.”
“You think so?” she says.
“Blubbering like that? Without a doubt,” Louis says. He puts fisted hands to the corners of his eyes, as he screws up his face and chokes out an anguished, “Perrie…”
She laughs sadly at the impression and pouts. It reminds him of Zayn’s sulking in the car, bond so strong they’ve begun favoring each other’s expressions.
“Poor thing.”
Louis cradles her chin between this thumb and forefinger. “He’s mad about you, love. So let’s not fuck that up.”
“You sound so mature. Who would have thought?” she says.
“I’m capable. Sometimes.”
Perrie gazes up at him with horridly compassionate eyes that make his insides flip.
“Yeah. We should stop this.”
Perrie’s affirmation steels this decision though it begins to feel suffocating. He squeezes her chin, fondly, before he lets her go.
She stands up and lifts the handle of her suitcase. He follows her to the door, righting the suitcase’s wheels when they roll into the leg of the dressing bench, edged near the closet. Every step towards the door sounds like a heavy goodbye.
His phone dings. Eleanor.
_Just got in the car. Be there in a bit xx_.
He types a smiley face back.
“Oh God, is that her? Is she here?” Perrie asks, her hand on the door. “I don’t want you to get in trouble over nothing.”
“No. She’s getting here,” he says. “But we’d say it was a room mix up anyway. It’s not a lie.”
“Good,” she says. She starts at the door and hesitates again. “This won’t be weird, right?”
“What? You and me? Never.”
“Good. Because sometimes it, like, it gets weird or something after you’ve thought of someone naked, even if nothing happens—“
“Thought of me naked, Perrie?” His fringe cuts into his vision, slivers of her face cut out by his hair.
“—and sometimes boys get stupid and can’t be your friend anymore because they’ve thought of the same thing—“ she goes on.
“Answer the question.”
One of her eyes crosses toward the bridge of her nose as she curls her upper lip and shakes her head. “For God’s sake, obviously I have, Louis.”
“When?” he asks.
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes.” It does he thinks because all of the kisses, all of the caresses, all of the sneaking around, mean nothing next to this confession that it hasn’t only been his misguided chasing and self-generated assurances that maybe she might want this as badly as he does.
“On the phone that last time.” She lets the handle of her suitcase go. “But before then.”
“When before then?” He feels the rising again, stirring at the top of his stomach, lashing against the muscles that keep it tucked back.
“Before Zayn. They asked me on camera which one of you was my favorite when the girls and I were in the house. You were my favorite, first. And I thought of you that night. But I couldn’t do anything about it because, you know, everyone else was around.”
She laughs nervously.
He hadn’t always the second place prize, he thinks. The fact that once upon a time, it was Louis who was making her wonder not Zayn, see, to trigger a combination of chemicals in his brain that awakens his TITF syndrome, because the rising comes up out of his stomach and splashes into his mouth.
“Fuck me. Why did you have to go and say that, love?” Louis asks, striding toward her.
She isn’t ready for him when he collides with her. She takes a step back and is met by the door and they bounce when they hit it. He puts his mouth to hers, licking her bottom lip before he puts his own lips there, pushing back on hers. Their lips graze and retreat rhythmically, Louis moving his head sideways, freeing their noses from crushing against each other’s cheeks.
Perrie’s hands grasp Louis’ shirt in both hands as he cups her chin, their tongues sliding together, back and forth. He moves from her mouth to the side of her neck, kissing downwards and moving his hands south. They stop when they find her breasts, hidden beneath the bulky sweatshirt. He rubs his hands up and then down over them but impatiently pulls up her shirt when the fabric proves too thick to feel her properly.
He tears away from her neck when he gets the hem up under her chin so he can finally see them again, identical to the memory he had stored of them months ago. They swell into his hand perfectly and Perrie moans tenderly when his thumbs graze her nipples, so they pucker. He dips his head, kisses the down the top of her breasts and when his bottom lip hits the hard swollen of her nipples he puts his tongue out and flicks over it.
Perrie breath skitters as his lips circle one pink tip, sucking it in. He teethes it lightly, slowly, then moves to her other breast to repeat the pattern. Perrie’s arm moves centrally bumping his chest slightly. When he pulls away from her breast, he sees that she is rubbing herself through her trackies, her hand moving forward and backward.
Louis replaces her hand with his, and deepens the pressure, so that her mouth falls open. He moves his hand up until his fingers tickle the band of the pants, emboldened by her reaction. He down sinks them behind the band, bends his wrist to get his fingers over her clit. Her wetness dampens his fingers immediately, slicking the way for him to rub her in quick, jittering movements.
Perrie wails and Louis yanks his hand away, putting one finger up to her lips to silence her. She smiles around his finger as she sucks her wetness away from it. His cock twitches at the sight. |
cea526773f8a4850a80e21a34d657e82 | ['dbd54e3ec9414670a82943b8658113dc'] | “Oh Jesus, is Brad really just going to stand there and watch? And why doesn't he have the decency to at least hold a pillow in front of his junk? Steve is being chased around their yard with a god forsaken knife and he had the common sense to wrap a blanket around his waist before!” He reached over and grabbed a few chips out of the bowl.
“I know, right?!”
* * *
“And, how do I look?” Daniel turned around and stretched out his arms. David looked him up and down. Daniel was dressed in a black suit and looked ridiculously fine. “And when you say 'With your eyes' I'm going to break up with you.”
David hugged him tightly and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
“Beautiful.”
“I wasn't asking about you.”
David blushed. He still wasn't sure if he did the right thing with agreeing to accompany Daniel to the police Christmas party but it sure would be strange if he wouldn't, right?
* * *
“So this is the guy that managed to tame Daniel. Made him want to settle down. Stay at home on Sunday nights. You cost me ten dollar, dude.”
David laughed uncomfortably.
“Yeah, I was kinda convinced that Daniel just made everything up.” The cop seemed to not notice David's nervousness.
“And you still need to pay me the ten dollar, Joseph.” Jen hugged David. “Good to see you here.”
“But you knew him already. That's not fair.”
“Just pay her, Joe. You know how uncomfortable she can be.” Daniel pushed a plastic cup into David's hand. “So where's your plus-one, Jen? Last year you brought this Starbucks Barista, right?”
“Yeah, but since that didn't work out... She's somewhere back there.” She gestured to the back of the room.
Surprisingly, David had a lot of fun. The hours flew by as they drank, chatted and, at some point, played secret Santa.
“I bet I can cup the whole world in my hands.” David smirked.
“Literally impossible.”
David put his hands on Daniel's cheeks. “I'm holding my world.”
Daniel blushed. “Stop, I have a reputation.”
David laughed and turned around. “Pay up, Joseph, told you I could make him blush without saying anything dirty!”
* * *
“Gwen, you are Jen's Plus One? Are you two dating?”
“No. Come, I need to tell you something.” She pulled him into a dark corner.
“You couldn't tell me another time?” He sobered up when he noticed the conflict in her eyes. “What's up?”
Gwen gnawed on her bottom lip.
“It's about Campbell.”
David looked around and pulled her deeper into the shadows of the corner.
“You couldn't tell me another time about this?”
“I just... I can't wait anymore. I have to tell you. I don't have time anymore and I have no idea what to do!”
“Okay, keep calm. What is it?”
“He called me in his office and... he's not pleased that you are dating a cop.”
“So far so obvious. So what is it, Gwen?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes.
“God, if that ever comes out that I'm telling you... He gave me five days to get rid of him.” Tears started to well up in her eyes.
David gulped. He felt his hands get clammy. Thoughts rushed through his head. He should have known it. It had been a bad idea to start something with Daniel.
If Gwen wouldn't kill him, she would be dead in no time. If he hid with Daniel somewhere... No, Campbell would know that Gwen told him and kill her. And then hunt him and Daniel down. If all three would go into hiding... But where? And what should they do afterwards? And how could he tell Daniel?
His ears rang. What should he do? What could he do? Every scenario seemed to end with death, destruction and unhappiness.
A forced smile appeared on his face.
“We can do it. We will somehow make it out. All three of us.” He hugged her tightly and the smile vanished from his face. “When was it? When did he ask you?”
“Two days ago.”
“Alright, we still have two full days to figure something out. We can do this.”
* * *
The rest of the party was not nearly as enjoyable as the start. Daniel seemed to look at him as if he knew something was up, but he didn't say anything. Even after they got home, he said nothing. And David wouldn't say anything either.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I feel like I should have dragged out the whole threat of 'Mafiaboss wants Daniel dead' more. But I think I have enough overshadowing tones already... Daniel and Jen have no idea that David and Gwen are a part of the Mafia. And are pretty high in the hierarchy. Daniel is hunting the King Pin of a drug ring aka himself.
>
> And Daniel is an actual representation of me when someone watches reality TV shows. I hate them. But from time to time I get super into them.
9. It Was Worth A Shot
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Campbell is dead.
> Daniel notices a chance for him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A short chapter because I'm feeling not so fine. I don't even remember when I had a good sleep the last time.
* * *
David took a deep breath to calm his nerves. His heart seemed to want to escape his chest, pounding on his rib cage with hard beats. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He loaded the gun with shaking hands.
It was surprisingly heavy. He lifted it and tried to hold the barrel steady, but to no avail. David sighed and stuffed the gun into a holster. He had to do it. He had no other choice. And barged through the door.
“David. You should knock-” | f42ef902120e4a7f8d1b6720543a2e01 | ['dbd54e3ec9414670a82943b8658113dc'] | He has no family, no real social bonds in the cult, he has nothing. You wanted me to pull his skeletons out so you could have something to control him by. But that would only work if he had something to lose.
The only thing strange is his last murder before he began working here. He was told to lay low until he would start to work here. And he did. For more than half a year, he didn't do anything. And then, not long before he started to work here, he killed a young woman.
I added a picture of her to the file.”
Campbell ripped open the envelope and pulled out the said picture at the end.
“I know her.” He grinned widely and flipped the photo so that Dove could see it. “Dove, my friend, I think you're right.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So: 'She' is the Cute Waitress, working at the 'Only Bar' as a cover.
> And before you say something about the cult in Camp Camp being modelled after the belief system of Scientology: I know that. I just don't like Scientology and because Heaven's Gate is my favourite cult (that sounds so wrong...) I decided to 'merge' them into one.
>
> The next chapters will probably be a little shorter than usual. Because it's the end of the world as we know it-
> Uh, I mean the end of the story (I listen to a lot of music, I'm sorry)
17. Truth
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Finally, big reveal.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I decided to not write out the smut in this chapter.
>
> Next (and last) chapter will be uploaded next wednesday. I'll celebrate Christopher Street Day with a friend in Treves (Trier) on saturday and will come back late on sunday, so no time to write.
Jasper stood outside of the office, his hand still in the air to knock. He was told to go to Campbell, wait for his attorney and the three of them would talk about his release which was scheduled for the next day.
He had heard the voices and thought maybe his lawyer was already there, when he heard David's name. He turned around, the appointment already forgotten.
"David." He hadn't thought about what to say. He only knew that he had to tell David.
"What is it?" David seemed to sense that Jasper had something incredibly serious on his mind and crossed his arms, leaning back on his cot into a defensive posture.
Jasper bit on his lip. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything without thinking about it, but there was no going back now. David would hate him if he knew that he didn't say anything.
"It's about Daniel."
"We agreed that you won't make any accusations”, David sighed and closed his eyes.
“We also agreed that you will hear me out.”
“If you have proof. Do you have proof?”
“Not exactly. But please. Just... Hear me out, David. Ask Daniel. And if he denies it, I will never say a word about your relationship again.”
David eyed him for a few seconds.
“Alright. What is it?”
“So, I was at Campbell's office. And I heard him talk to Dove. They were... They were talking about Daniel. And you.”
“Me?” David raised an eyebrow.
“They were talking about how they could bring Daniel under their control. And you two are pretty serious with each other.”
“Why would they even try to-”, David began but was cut off by Jasper.
“That doesn't matter. They had information about him and said, they could control him if they threatened to tell you... I'm so sorry, David. They know you are innocent.”
“Then why aren't they letting me out?”
“Because Daniel killed Gwen.”
David stopped for a second before he began to laugh.
“Okay, you got me there for a second. Brilliant delivery.”
Jasper chewed on his lip and looked at the ground. David's laughter faded.
“Jasper, you are joking... right?”
“No.” His voice was quiet, as if he didn't want David to hear.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“You're just trying to get Daniel and me to split up!”
Jasper looked back up and saw tears welling up in David's eyes.
“I'm so sorry.”
David jumped onto his feet and stormed out. Jasper let himself fall in his cot and buried his head in his hands.
“Daniel!”
Daniel turned around and blinked when David threw himself into his arms and began to sob uncontrollably.
“David. What happened? Let's go in my office.”
He guided David through the door, threw the paper he held on his desk and sat David into one of the armchairs. He sat down across of him and took David's hands into his.
“Davey? What happened?” He reached up and gently wiped away the tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Jasper.”
“What is with him?”
“He said that you killed Gwen.”
Daniel stopped and looked away.
“Oh.”
“But you have nothing to do with it and he won't listen to me. Daniel? You... You do have nothing to do with Gwen's death, right?”
Daniel let go of David's hands but didn't respond.
“Daniel?”
“I saw you in the woods one evening. You smiled at her and when she was gone, you started to cry. I didn't know you. But it was breaking my heart to see you like that. So I followed her. And when you weren't at her funeral, I asked myself if you were alright. But then I saw you here and-”
“-and you never thought about telling me? You said you loved me but never thought about, oh, I don't know, maybe getting me out of prison? Where I am because of you.”
“I just wanted to protect you.”
David stood up. His eyes were still red from crying but his tears had vanished.
“She's dead. Because of you.” He opened the door.
“So that's it? It's just over between us?” |
4716a84ef6c4465a86367100362e8757 | ['dbe3ecc5deb0476ab8910aaffdb158fe'] | Julien snorted, "I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to try that."
"Are you saying I'm not good enough to find my way into the fantasies of others?"
"I'm saying no one would try something like that with someone like me around."
"Good point," Remi said, moving closer to his friend to run a hand over one of his muscular biceps. "They'd be more interested in you anyway."
Julien pulled away, and turned toward Remi, an eyebrow raised. "Doubtful. Now get some sleep. I want to leave early tomorrow morning."
Remi watched the other for a moment. It was silent for a moment as Remi thought, watching the other man's back as he went back to changing.
Finally, he let out a deep sigh. "If something does happen... If you are in danger, I will not hold back." iEver./i
"You don't have to worry about that. I know what I'm doing."
Remi grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, staring down into his eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you're strong. I know you can handle yourself. But you're not indestructible. You can be hurt."
Julien looked away, his shoulders sinking a bit. "If we are attacked by templar, there won't be anything you can do. Remi… Do not use magic. You can't let anyone know you're a mage."
"Julien—"
"Promise me!"
Remi's eyes widened a bit and he looked to the side as well too. "I won't give our cover away. I promise."
"Good. Now really, get some sleep and stop worrying."
_Easier said than done,_ Remi thought, laying back on the bed. There really wasn't anything Julien could say that would make him worry less. Not anymore.
Remi had trouble sleeping that night; an uneasy feeling rising in his chest. The uneasy feeling only grew more as they set out that morning. Julien seemed perfectly fine though. He tried to calm down. All morning he tried. When they shared dried meat at lunch, he tried some more— he couldn't help looking over his shoulder, back down the snowy path they came from.
Finally, mid afternoon, he asked, "Are you sure we weren't followed?"
"I'm not. All we can do is hurry on and hope that we weren't. And if we were, I'll take care of it. Don't talk to them, and definitely no magic."
"You're starting to sound like Sister Martine now. I know. I know. I won't use magic. I already told you."
"I most certainly do not," Julien protested. Remi didn't argue, however; he was tense and his limbs were starting to feel heavy and sore. It wasn't from all the walking. They had no real plan, and they were running from someone they weren't sure was coming. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew they were.
Every corner they turned, every shadow they saw, Remi became more and more suspicious of it. He checked for phantoms following them. And every time another traveler passed them on the road, he could feel something clamping down on his heart, something tugging at the edge of his mind. He clenched his fists.
_Is that the one?_ He'd wonder, _Did they finally come for me?_
He watched Julien closely, realizing the templar was just as tense as he was.
The next village they reached, they bought a map. They stayed up that night, looking over it, finally planning out a route to take. They decided to travel north, through Nevarra, and to Cumberland. From there, they would take a boat and travel as far east as they could. Rivain was maybe the best place they could run to. They both agreed on that.
"We're making good time, I think," Julien said, "If we keep up the same pace, we should reach Val Chevin tomorrow and then make our way across the border a few days after that."
"Val Chevin?" Remi asked. "We're passing through there? Are… Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
Remi tensed up, thinking about his mother then, thinking about his sisters, thinking about his absent father. "I… that's where I'm from. I… thought I told you before."
"Just keep your hood on and don't talk to anyone. We'll be fine."
"It's not fine!" Remi said, slamming his hand down on the table. "You know nothing! People will notice me!"
"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic? Why would anyone notice you?"
"You realize my family is nobility, right?"
That caught Julien by surprise.
"I will stick out, I'm sure of it. And… My mo— I don't want to see them again!"
"Remi, calm down and sit back down."
Remi took a deep breath, sliding back down in his chair. "They are just minor nobility, but I gave up my title the day I was found out to be a mage. My mother… When she found out…" He stopped there, not wanting to continue.
"We're not going to see your mother."
"Please… I'm begging you, Julien. Don't bring me through Val Chevin." His voice was shaky then, and barely above a whisper. All he wanted was to hide under the blankets of the little bed across the room.
"Alright." Was all Julien said as he stared back at the map. He stared at it for a long time. Even as the candle light died down, he was still at the table. It wasn't until morning that he told Remi his plan.
"We'll continue north, take the north road before it forks. Away from Val Chevin. We'll spend the night off the northern road. I… didn't really want to camp out in the snow again. It's hardly getting any warmer. But… If you really can't handle being back in Val Chevin… I won't force you to."
Remi let out a sigh of relief, and wrapped his arms around Julien, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you."
"It will add another day to our trip, however," Julien added, patting his friend on the back. | 55cebd115f584fe48dcb7fb425ed7f4e | ['dbe3ecc5deb0476ab8910aaffdb158fe'] | “Kayden! Stop! What are you doing?” He couldn’t tell who’s voice it was, but he paid it no mind, his target was Uldred right now. As far as he could tell where he was standing, Uldred was a dead man walking.
He lunged forward, his sword leaving a trail of sparks as it scraped against the floor in an upward arc. The surprised look on Uldred’s face was priceless, but all too soon, things began to change. Horns sprouted from his body, and his flesh ripped apart and slid to the floor in a wet mess of blood and snapping bone as the demon possessing him decided to finally show itself. What was once Uldred was gone, and in it’s place a hulking Pride demon.
Kayden gritted his teeth. That was something he hadn’t expected. However, regardless of the form Uldred took, Kayden was going to kill him; Kayden was going to have his blood. Niall would be avenged.
One of the demon’s fists slammed down on him, sending him head first into the ground. He blinked, where had that attack come from? Just as the other fist came down, Kayden rolled out of the way, the floor around him beginning to ice over. The demon’s fist slammed into the ice instead, shattering it like glass.
Kayden took control of the icy debris almost immediately, sending them back towards the demon, slicing tiny cuts all over the demon’s thick skin. It howled, and launched itself at Kayden again as he continued to lower the temperature of the air around them.
The demon continued to relentlessly pound at Kayden, slamming him to the ground so many times Kayden stopped counting. Silently, he thanked whoever was responsible for this armor again; right now, he couldn’t even recall who had given it to him. He rolled out of the way from another attack, bringing up a pillar of ice to freeze the demon’s arm to the ground. It tried to shake free of the ice, giving Kayden a chance to stand up. With a quick downward arc, he shattered the frozen arm.
Another wail came from the demon, and its eyes glowed red as it turned to look at Kayden. One arm down didn’t seem to give Kayden the upper-hand, as it came back at him with renewed vigour. He was barely able to block the attacks as he backed into his wall of ice.
There was a banging sound. He looked around trying to figure out where it was coming from before realizing it was coming from behind him. Someone was trying to get through the wall. There was no way he was going to let that happen. He renewed the spell, putting another layer of ice between him and whatever was on the other side, just as a giant fist slammed into the wall next to his head.
Kayden looked back at the demon, wide-eyed, as the fist came back horizontally. It slammed into his side, sending him flying in the other direction. He hit the ice hard, feeling more than a little dizzy as he tried to pull himself back up. He slipped, falling and hitting the ice again.
Before he knew it, the fist came down on him again, and the grip on his sword loosened and slipped from his grasp. Then again… and again the fist continued to come down. As he lost concentration, the ice wall began to fall.
“Kayden!” A voice yelled. Who? He looked back, seeing the wall… the melting wall. That’s all there was; white, melting ice everywhere. And he had failed. The voice continued, and he was again in the Fade, looking around. Why?
“Kayden, don’t give up now!” It was… Niall…
Kayden forced himself up, pulling down the ice wall with his mind, reclaiming the ice, shattering it, and sending the rest in spears towards the demon. The air around him grew ever colder as he formed the blizzard in his mind, letting it rain ice in the Harrowing chamber. It pelted the ground around him, leaving holes in the demon.
Was it dead yet? he wondered, not letting up on the spell. He decided he would let it continue until there was nothing left of Uldred because he. was. nothing. Kayden gritted his teeth, intensifying the spell.
“That’s enough, Kade, he’s dead!” someone said. It didn’t matter, Kayden didn’t care, he wasn’t about to let up, not yet. Hatred only rose as the temperature dropped, he felt nothing but the icy hands of death, the Fade.
“You’re going to kill us all!” came another voice. He still didn’t want to listen. What did they know anyway? What did Kayden care if he died? If everyone else died? It’s not like it mattered now. That’s right, nothing mattered.
He was lost… all was lost, and the world around him would suffer for it. The roof collapsed to his right, he could hear the sound of loose boards hitting the floor as the blizzard spread outside the tower. How far it would spread, he didn’t know, nor did he care right now. The tears came, instantly freezing as they hit the air, and he collapsed to his knees.
“I’m sorry…” came a voice behind him. He didn’t know or care who it was, and he didn’t know why they were apologizing, all he knew was that everyone should be apologizing right now. A sharp pain spread through him and soon everything went bright white, clouding his vision… and then blackness...
**o O o**
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was in a bed. That was probably the best he could hope for at a time like this anyway. Kayden groaned, trying to pull himself up, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. |
c0a59f77d85c4a1aa910c8d309dc0840 | ['dbef1c52ac7a44e4a579987047999a30'] | Who's Your Papa?
**Author's Note:**
> For Rachel and Abi. Because what happens at Dragoncon.. turns into a crackfic. XD For the rest of you.. I'm so sorry. So very sorry.
“…Morrison. Moooor-risss-son. Hey.”
Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in his exasperation. He didn’t need to look up from his paperwork to know that Gabriel Reyes would be in front of his desk, well on his way to being sloshed. The number of syllables he put into his name was proof of that. Begrudgingly, he raised his head slowly, surveying the figure standing before him.
Gabe was awkwardly trying to perch on the edge of Jack’s desk, still in most of his gear from the mission he had just come back from. It was the latest in a string of many, which perhaps contributed to him needing to blow off some steam. He hadn’t had down time for several weeks, after all, the urgency of the missions needing him to bug out virtually as soon as he touched down from the previous one.
Luckily for Gabriel, this one was the last for a while. If Jack remembered correctly, he now had roughly two weeks before the next planned operation. Unluckily for Jack, this meant he had to deal with a stir-crazy soldier who didn’t know how to RELAX and enjoy time off after the initial day of recovery.
The blond eyed the bottle of whiskey loosely clutched in Gabe’s right hand, before raising an eyebrow at the man. “Since when are you a whiskey drinker?”
Gabe looked down at the bottle, mildly surprised to find it there, as if he hadn’t nearly finished the whole thing himself. He shrugged, tugging the beanie down further on his head before taking another swig. “..found it.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake – did you get into McCree’s stash, again? He’s going to lose his damn mind.”
“Servesss him right. Him and his – and his stupid hat.” He chuckled heartily at his own piss poor attempt at humor. “But shh, shh shh listen – I’ll just get another one and put it back before he even knows! It’ll be fucking fine!” Another swig.
“Gabe, do you know how hard it is to find his brand around here? Knob Creek doesn’t exactly grow on trees.”
Another deep-throated chortle from the inebriated man. “Well, you would know, wouldn’t you, Jackie? You’re.. you’re such a farm boy.”
Jack wondered briefly if it would be in poor taste for the commander of Overwatch to use a sleep dart on a fellow member.
“Ookay, champ, let’s get you back to – “ Jack began, taking his arm to lead him to the door, already having enough of his shit. Heaven forbid a cadet ran into their CO in this state.
“Wait, shit, holy fuck –“ Gabriel started, eyes widening as he somehow resisted Jack’s none too gentle shoves, “You know what I miss since we’ve been stationed here? PAPA JOHN’S.”
Jack faltered in his efforts for a moment, mouth agape. “The pizza place? What the f-“
“YES. Jackie. Jackie. Do you remember – do you remember how it tastes? The, the cheese, and the crust, and the sau-“
He really wished he had some of Ana’s sleep darts right now. “I know what a damn pizza tastes like, yes, Gabe, now can we please just go to our quarters, get you out of that gear and maybe some water –“
Reyes wasn’t having any of it, one callused hand waving around the bottle vigorously. Jack normally admired his stubborn nature, used it to their advantage on more than one mission, but this time.. “NO. Holy shit, Jack, Papa John’s sounds SO GOOD right now.”
“…Gabriel. Are you high?”
“What? No, no, Jackie, I just – pizza. Papa John’s. Say it with me, Jackie, it sounds so good right now.”
“Okay, that’s great, but I hate to break it to you, the mess hall is closed right now, and we certainly don’t have a Papa John’s around here – “
“NO. NO, there’s totally some around here. There’s – someone will know where to find it. We’re.. we’re fucking Overwatch. They can get us some damn Papa John’s,” he slammed the bottle onto Morrison’s desk, the liquid inside sloshing up the sides. His eyes flashed, almost dangerous, at Jack, “I am going to get some Papa John’s if it kills me.”
Jack sighed, utterly defeated, and let go of his arm, stepping back. “Alright, killer. You go do that.” He sent up a silent prayer for whatever poor sucker had to deal with him next, bending over to retrieve some of the papers knocked over in the chaos that was a drunk Gabriel Reyes.
Gabriel crowed victoriously, having given himself a new, ever important mission. “That’s the spirit, Morrison! I’ll be back soon with delicious, cheesy goodness! You’ll see. They’ll all see.” With that nonsensical decree, he ran headlong out of the office, but not before giving the blond a tremendous slap on the ass.
Bent over and completely unprepared, the force of Gabriel’s smack sent the commander headfirst into the edge of his fancy desk, an explosion of pain blossoming behind his eyeballs, and, strangely, his chin.
“SON OF A BITCH,” he yelled out, reaching his hand up, only to pull it away covered with his own blood. He was going to kill Reyes.
\--
After Angela treated his wounds, still chuckling, he made her swear to corroborate his story that he had gotten the diagonal slash wounds, and eventual scars, through a secret ops mission.
When Gabe came stumbling in several hours later, somehow still drunk, he was holding a burrito. He didn’t understand why Jack made him sleep on the couch. | 240ccaa251204f3292521918d4f2d219 | ['dbef1c52ac7a44e4a579987047999a30'] | “…Fine.” Ban swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing. He began to gyrate his hips to some unheard music, fingertips trailing up a taut stomach to glide over his nipples. Ban’s eyes were closed; unaware of the rapt attention Shido was giving him. Shido licked his lips in anticipation as Ban undid the button to his pants, slowly sliding the zipper down, hips still moving enticingly. The spell Ban had cast was broken, however, when he stopped moving, eyes opening to stare at Shido, who was still eyeing his hands. Pushing his glasses up, Ban frowned. “This is stupid.”
“I don’t think it is.”
That was met with a glare.
“…of course, I could always just undress you myself…” Shido replied, leering at him.
Blushing, Ban still managed to throw out a half-hearted glare. “I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself, Monkey Trainer.”
“But that’s not any fun, now is it?” With that, Shido grabbed Ban around the waist, yanking him back down onto the bed. He licked at Ban’s neck, tugging at his pants while Ban gasped, letting small moans escape. Shido was in the midst of sucking on Ban’s collarbone when he stopped abruptly, looking up to Ban’s face.
Ban sat up slightly. “Why’d you stop?”
“…No underwear, Ban?”
“It’s less laundry to do.”
Shido rolled his eyes, sliding Ban’s pants off and tossing them to land in a heap across the room. When Ban reached up with the intentions to pull him down for a kiss, Shido caught his hand, squeezing it gently. “Let me look at you, Ban. Just for a minute.”
Ban peered at him over the tops of his glasses, blue eyes meeting grey. He lowered his arm back to the bed, which Shido took as his permission. Ban turned his head to the side, almost shyly, as Shido took in the vision before him, his eyes burning every detail into his mind as his hands followed in exploration.
“…you’re gorgeous, Ban,” he said reverently, leaning down to kiss him.
Ban took this opportunity and threw his arms around the larger man, deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart for necessary air, Ban grinned up at him. “Now that you acknowledge how sexy I am,” he began, fingers trailing along Shido’s shoulders, “are we going to do this or not?!” He finished by grinding his erection against Shido’s crotch, the thin fabric the only thing separating the two. Ban let out a breathy moan, watching through lidded eyes as Shido smirked, obligingly kicking off his pants. His eyes roved over the Beastmaster’s body, eventually landing on his erection. Ban tried not to gape. …well, it’s a good thing I’m going to be the one on top. There’s no way in hell that that…
“See something you like, Snake Bastard?” Though the name hadn’t changed, there was no malice behind it this time. Only a certain fondness.
Ban narrowed his eyes, throwing out the only retort he could think of. “Shut up.” He sat up suddenly, kissing Shido hungrily. A flurry of movement and a few moments later, Ban sat astride Shido. When they broke the kiss for necessary air, Shido blinked up at him.
“Wait. How did you – “
“I’m just that good.”
Shido didn’t have to look to know that a triumphant smirk was plastered on Ban’s face. Ban bent forward to capture his lips in another kiss before blazing a trail to Shido’s ear, nibbling slightly. Shido closed his eyes, slowly running a hand between them to rub against both of their members. Ban let out a wordless sigh, warm breath tickling Shido’s ear.
He rubbed his body enticingly against Shido’s, nipping at his neck lightly. Shido growled, and before Ban could protest, rolled so that Ban was once again beneath him. He pinned the smaller man to the bed.
“You,” he began, curling a hand around Ban’s erection, pumping slowly, “are so.. fucking sexy.” His kiss swallowed up Ban’s loud moan as a hand found itself in Ban’s mess of hair. When Shido finally tore himself away from his lips, he tugged Ban’s head back gently, exposing more of his neck. Shido licked lightly at Ban’s ear before lavishing his neck with attention. So lost in Shido’s ministrations, Ban hadn’t even protested their position change. He was clutching at Shido’s back, moans and sighs of pleasure falling from his lips. Shido looked up at him, his erection throbbing painfully at the sight of Ban’s expression of pleasure. He was having a hard time controlling himself around the retrieval agent. Shido bit down on the juncture between neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man. He sucked on the spot fervently, tongue lashing out every so often to soothe. Ban’s eyes had closed, and he didn’t take notice as Shido removed his hand from his hair, groping around blindly for his pants. When he found them, he sat up, removing his hand from Ban’s erection and releasing his neck, grinning at the sight of the mark he had left. Ban was his, now.
Ban’s eyes shot open, staring at Shido in exasperation. “Why’d you stop this time?!”
Shido rummaged around in his pockets, removing a tube of lubrication and tossing the pants aside again. He had a Cheshire grin. “Found the lube.”
“You carry around lube everywhere?” Ban stared at him, dumbfounded.
His answer was a shrug. “You never know.”
“…you’re right. And I never want to know.” |
e6928576c3d946f39a43cf1f4db8d34f | ['dbf1416a9150464b815271bc097cb227'] |
Sweaty bodies were pushing against each other as Jin tried to make my way through them. As much as he didn’t want their bodily fluids anywhere near him it seemed nearly impossible to make his way through without having any physical interactions. He grimaced as the strong pungent smell of liqour entered his nose. Oh god, I just want to leave, where is that asshole? Jin thought as he kept searching for his friend Marco. He scanned the crowd for a pair of fake angel wings but there were just too many people in too many costumes. Infact, he was sure atleast five people were dressed as Angels at this party.
After trying to reject Marco’s “idea of fun”, which turned out to be this godforsaken party, Jin had eventually accepted defeat and let his friend drag him all the way here. Since he wasn’t planning on attending any of the halloween events, Jin didn’t have a proper costume so he had to settle in for wearing a pumpkin on his head. It was fine, he looked cute, but he wished he didn’t have to wear a neon orange shirt and a equally horrifying green pants. Whenever people asked him what he was, he just replied with,“A fashion disaster.”
Jin shouldn’t have came to this party. Most importantly he shouldn’t have left his friend’s side when he knew Marco was a wonderer and he probably would end up losing him in less than 5 seconds. Now here he was standing in the middle of the dance floor with alcohol dripping down his (horrifying) orange shirt. “I am so sorry!” the girl, that had accidentally spilled the contents of her red plastic cup onto his shirt, cried. She was slurring her words and was wobbly on her legs and as far as Jin was concerned, she looked way too young to be drinking this much.
Jin sighed. He felt nauseous from the smell of cheap alcohol and the blue disco lights were way too bright. He felt is head ache as he spinned on his heels, going the opposite way to look for his friend, ignoring the drunk underaged girl. “Marco! Marco where are you?!” Jin shouted over the loud speakers that were blaring Troye Sivan’s “Youth”.
“Polo!” Jin stopped on his tracks as he heard someone reply. That couldn’t have been Marco and he knew that because his friend hated that damn joke. He continued walking pass a group of teenagers and tried calling for Marco again.
“Polo!” that voice called out again. Oh god please help me, Jin thought as he closed his eyes fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. He’d been having such a bad night, he felt sick to his stomach, his body felt heavy and his headache was getting worse by the minute. He did not need to deal with this right now, he did not deserve this.
One last try Jin, “Marco!”.
Silence. But then,
“Polo!”
Jin whiped his head towards that voice and came face to face with a boy that looked about his age. He had red contact lenses on and his hair was short and brown. Jin stomped towards him and everything that happened next was beyond his control.
“Cut it off! I’ve had such a bad night, I hate this party and I just want to get out off here okay?! So let me find my goddamn friend so I can fucking leave! If you’re not gonna help me shut.the.fuck.up!” Jin cried, letting the words gush out of him. His face felt hot and it wasn’t just because literally every pair of eyes was on him. Someone had even turned down the song in the background. Some had their cameras out just in case a fight was about to break out. Remind him again why he hated college so much.
The boy he was yelling at, had his eyes wide open. Jin was pretty sure he had already apologised like 15 times but the boy didn’t stop, even when he grabbed Jin’s hand and gently pushed pass the crowd. Soon, they were both out of the house-thank god!. Jin stepped out into the chilly night and took a deep breath in. He didn’t know he was crying until he felt himself calm down and was fully aware of his surroundings again. Blushing, he wiped his tears and looked up at the boy standing, well more like towering, infront of him.
Eventhough it was dark, Jin could see his facial features clearly-and he was beautiful. Despite being dressed as a vampire(Jin thought he looked like a vampire) he didn’t look the least intimidating. He had eyes full of concern as they scanned Jin’s face and one of his hands was rubbing Jin’s back in slow circles. As nausea left his stomach, guilt started to settle in.
“I can go find your friend if you want, as an apology?” The boy asked, a small smile playing on his lips. Jin was loss for words because why was he being so nice?
“No, but do you have a phone? I can call him,” Jin replied, his voice still shaky.
“Ofcourse, I’m Namjoon by the way, and here’s my phone,” Namjoon said handing Jin his iphone 6.
Jin was more than grateful.
“I still feel really guilty about what happened, I swear I was just trying to joke,” Namjoon explained,“ So…what if I take you out for coffee? My treat.”
Jin felt his heart constrict. He had never been asked out by someone before, especially a boy. It was usually him trying to ask out girls whom he knew were going to reject him anyways.
“Uh, sure why not?” Jin replied.
**Author's Note:**
> Omg so this is my first time writing and I was just trying it out. I don't think its too good but I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thanks for reading | 77404746c2e84a09afc4d35f5dca96e8 | ['dbf1416a9150464b815271bc097cb227'] | Breathless
**Author's Note:**
> Heyya:) I'm currently using this account to just dump all my writings so bare with me lmao. Anyways the anxiety mentioned here is based off the way I feel it so you may not relate to it:/ I wrote this when I was feeling upset sooo its really just my own experience!
The tingling feeling in Taehyung's stomach only seemed to intensify, rising to his chest. Pins and needles pricked his skin as his palms began to get sweaty. He quickly wiped them on his shorts and let out a shaky breath. Suddenly, the light emitting from his phone seemed way too bright and noise from the traffic outside his apartment was too loud.
Taehyung put his phone down on the couch and walked towards one of the bedrooms. He wondered how he managed to walk, let alone stand, when his knees felt like they were made out of jelly. He twisted the doorknob and made his way into the room surprised to see Jungkook still wide awake. The brown haired boy was settled on his bed comfortably and had his phone clutched in his hands with his earphones plugged in. His brows knitted together as he seemed to concentrate on whatever anime he was currently obsessed with.
As soon as Taehyung stepped into the room, Jungkook's eyes landed on his hyung. He saw Taehyung's frown and immediately pressed the pause button on his video. He placed his phone to the side, took off his earphones and raised his hands up as Taehyung fell into his arms. They both lied down on the bed with Jungkook's arms wrapped tightly around the other boy, whose head was tucked into his neck. Jungkook felt the shaky breaths the older released against his neck.
Taehyung could feel the younger boy trace tiny circles against his back. He wished he could just melt into a puddle right then and there. His insides felt warm and he didn't know whether it was from the anxiety or the fingers on his skin.
Jungkook wanted to tell Taehyung that there was nothing for him to worry about. However, he knew that wasn't going to make his anxiety disappear, that's not how it worked unfortunately. So he instead he settled on doing what he did best, rubbing his back and reminding him to breathe.
Taehyung wondered how he got so lucky to have Jungkook. What would he be doing right now if he didn't have him? He didn't even want to think about it, with so many things already going on he didn't want to feel worse. |
59f74016bb4d4bb2ba907c3ddca8bd21 | ['dc0ad4807a4542cc8904a0bb82e96106'] |
i adore you, enough that i'm dizzy
**Author's Note:**
> whats up folks im literally having a terrible day but jas told me he'd kiss me if i wrote markjae so ;) u know my address babe, i would like some nice first class smooches
mark is tipsy.
it’s 11pm, and he’s curled up against jaehyun’s side, nursing his third beer of the night, and he’s tipsy.
he’s spent the whole night practically glued to jaehyun’s side, following him around and smiling whenever jaehyun introduced him to someone new and it’s fun. parties are fun. but they’re also tiring, and there’s really only so much social interaction mark can take before he starts to wilt.
hence why he’s basically on jaehyun’s lap right now, the two of them sat on the ratty sofa in johnny’s basement, or his ‘man cave’ as he likes to call it.
jaehyun’s humming along to whatever song is playing upstairs, his hand resting at the nape of mark’s neck and it’s nice. more than nice. the way jaehyun’s toying with the ends of his hair is calming, and mark practically melts when lightly scratches at the back of his head.
“feel good?” he asks, chuckling lightly. his voice is deeper than usual, something that always happens when he drinks but it still gets to mark like it’s the first time he’s ever heard him speak.
when he doesn’t answer, jaehyun does it again, letting the tips of his fingers rake against marks scalp and mark is moaning before he even realises what’s happening. “i’m gonna take that as a yes then,” jaehyun says and he laughs when mark’s cheeks flush bright red. “you’re so cute sometimes.”
normally mark would shrug off the compliment, too embarrassed to accept it, even from his own boyfriend, but mark has been drinking and so that’s not what he does. no, instead of pushing it off, he shifts a little in jaehyun’s lap so that he can look up at the elder and frowns. “are you trying to tell me that i’m not cute all the time?” he asks.
jaehyun stutters at the question and the final remaining bit of mark’s sobriety tells him that jaehyun has not had nearly enough to drink to be able to answer that kind of question without dying afterwards, but he’s proven wrong when jaehyun’s face smooths out and he smiles down at mark all to sweetly. “of course i think you’re cute all the time but like, when you’re drunk you just get extra cute. don’t worry about your cuteness levels markles, you’re a solid 10/10 on the uwu scale.”
“a 10/10,” mark parrots.
jaehyun nods back and mark beams up at him. “okay good. that’s good. i’m cute.”
“yes you are,” jaehyun hums, laughing again and he mumbles something about ‘bringing you to parties more often’ but mark doesn’t really catch it all because his third beer is definitely starting to hit him and jaehyun’s face is so close when he’s sat like this. his eyes roam over his face, over his eyes and down the slope of his nose before landing on his lips.
he’s always really liked jaehyun’s lips. they’re so pretty, and soft, and pretty, and plump, and oh, did mark already say pretty? because that’s what they are. not only that, but jaehyun is also the best kisser mark has ever had the experience of being with, and that alone is enough to keep mark’s slight obsession over his lips alive.
“see something you like?” jaehyun asks, effectively pulling mark out of his thoughts and his eyes widen a little as he looks back up to catch jaehyun’s gaze.
jaehyun’s head tilts, an invitation for mark to voice his thoughts, and yet again, because he’s been drinking he does exactly that. “can i kiss you?”
jaehyun answers by pulling him up, his hand holding mark’s cheek as he brings their lips together and he swallows the noise of surprise marks lets out. it’s warm, so warm, and mark leans further against jaehyun, dropping his hopefully empty cup onto the floor before bringing his hands up to thread through jaehyun’s hair.
sober mark is hesitant when he kisses. sober mark is faltering hands, not knowing where to rest and slow, chaste kisses that end up fading into nothing. drunk mark however is unstoppable, needy hands and even needier lips, kissing and biting and licking at jaehyun in an attempt to get more, to get closer. it’s wet and it’s messy and it’s so different to the usual mark that jaehyun is so used to being careful with but it’s so good.
mark shifts again in his lap, moving so that his knees are boxing jaehyun’s thighs in and he pushes forwards until they’re both leant back against the sofa cushions properly. he hums into jaehyun’s mouth when a hand falls to his waist, and his whole body jerks when jaehyun sucks on his tongue, his hands tugging at jaehyun’s hair sharply.
“jaehyun, jaehyun please,” mark begs inbetween kisses and he doesn’t really know what he’s asking for; his mind is hazy and all he can think about is getting _ closer, _ wanting _ more _ .
jaehyun seems to get that though, because his hand is slipping under mark’s shirt, thumb stroking circles over his hip bone and he’s asking, “how far do you want to go? how drunk are you?”
they’re simple questions really, but mark’s mind is trained on jaehyun and jaehyun only and so he stumbles over how to answer. “i’m- i’m not that drunk,” he finally manages to get out but jaehyun’s expression tells him that he thinks otherwise. “just, please? kiss me, that’s all, please just kiss me,” mark adds on and he knows that he sounds desperate, but jaehyun’s still stroking his hip and the touch is driving mark more than a little crazy.
“just kisses, nothing more, ” jaehyun says and mark nods frantically. | 7ecd724ae8254059af4ed5816d753c97 | ['dc0ad4807a4542cc8904a0bb82e96106'] | at that thought, the image of jaehyun bent over the big oak table speeds to the forefront of his mind, jaehyun’s cheek squished against the surface, dick smearing pre-come all over the underside of the table as he fucks himself on his fingers. it takes johnny so much by surprise, that he almost chokes on his own spit and then he’s coming, _hard_.
johnny’s breath is ragged as he fucks himself through it, mind reeling as his body is overcome with that wonderful post-orgasm floatiness. it’s too much, and somehow not enough at the same time and finally, his knees do give in underneath his weight.
back still pressed against his bedroom door, he slides down to the floor with a thud. he sits there for maybe a minute before his nose is flaring again, and he feels a renewed wave of arousal pass through his body as the smell of jaehyun’s orgasm hits him. it’s sweet, so so sweet and johnny really can’t get enough of it.
he stays there for another ten minutes or so, simply collecting his breath, willing his brain to think of anything that isn’t jaehyun fucking himself on his fingers because he _really_ doesn’t have the energy to go another round with himself right now, before someone knocks at the door.
“tuck your dick back into your pants, i’m coming in,” yuta yells, and johnny barely has enough time to scoot away from the door before yuta is barging in.
he looks down at youngho in confusion, brow furrowing just slightly, but then his gaze is falling to johnny's lap and his expression is immediately morphing into one of disgust. “oh dude, i thought i said put your dick away,” he tuts, before stepping over him and jumping onto his bed and johnny? he hates his life.
2. ii
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> its been a while owo, sorry
youngho has always believed in the idea that something usually gets worse before it gets better. he learns pretty quickly that this does not apply to this _ crush _ he has on jaehyun.
no, in fact it’s more of a ‘it gets worse before it gets worse some more’ kind of situation.
like, his infatuation has kind of been a shit show for the past couple months now but over the past week it’s spiralled even further and honestly, johnny feels bad just _ looking _ in jaehyun’s direction knowing the shit he has dreamt about over the past couple of nights. since last week, when jaehyun had fucked himself in the meeting room, johnny’s mind has been unable to focus on anything other than just thinking about fucking jaehyun in there himself. and on the breakfast bar downstairs. and the big armchair in the living room. and every single bathroom in the pack house.
long and short of it is, johnny can’t stop thinking about fucking jaehyun.
and sure, yeah, he’d been thinking about that before, but the difference is now that he’s seemingly lost the ability to control himself and the scent that he gives off, meaning that everyone in their house can easily get a whiff of how desperately he wants to bed jaehyun.
well, everyone but jaehyun himself it seems.
his behaviour around johnny hasn’t even changed in the slightest. whilst ten and yuta don’t bother hiding their knowing expressions when he enters a room, jaehyun has no visible reaction at all, simply smiling at johnny like it’s a normal day and it’s off putting to say the least.
because surely jaehyun can’t be this oblivious. right?
wrong, actually as johnny finds out one afternoon when taeil corners him in the kitchen.
“hey, can we uh- can we talk?” he asks as johnny makes himself a bowl of cereal, and the pained expression on the elders face tells johnny that this is _ not _ gonna be a fun conversation. still, he understands how the pack hierarchy works and if taeil wants to talk to him, then that’s what’s gonna happen, so he says yes and leans back against the kitchen counter, waiting for taeil to speak.
it takes him a little second to start, and the hesitation is enough to have nerves jittering through his body, though, as soon as taeil does actually speak, johnny wishes they could automatically go back to the stilted silence.
“okay so, recently your scent has- um, well it’s been a little strong, and it’s starting to mess with some of the younger wolves we have in the house. xiao jun’s even gone into rut because of the pheromones you’re giving off so i’d-” taeil cuts himself off, pausing to look at the ground and johnny can feel the shame burning high on his cheeks. the elder takes a deep breath and then he continues, “so i’d appreciate it if either you uh- take care of yourself more often, or please, let jaehyun know what you’re feeling, because he’s so oblivious to all of this it’s painful. _ incredibly _ painful.”
johnny can’t find the courage to say anything back, too embarrassed to do anything but smile weakly and nod because taeil, head of the pack, really just told him he needs to jerk off more.
he must be as red as a tomato at this point, but taeil doesn’t mention it, instead just nodding back and then quickly retreating out of the kitchen, leaving johnny alone with his bowl of cereal.
he doesn’t know how long he stays there, leant against the counter with his mind swirling, thinking about how jaehyun really is unaware of the disgustingly big crush johnny has on him. it seems impossible, implausible, because johnny has always assumed he’s been pretty obvious about his feelings around the younger boy. and, well, if the feelings themselves don’t cut it, his scent has certainly been enough to let the rest of the house what’s going on.
and johnny really doesn’t want to dwell on that thought. |
1f38b6f8c745478f9b9e610d8c3b8123 | ['dc1ce38f7723493b8c43b4c1c825f67b'] |
1. Prolouge
Prologue
Seven years earlier
Chloe’s pov
I was nine and my brother was seven, our younger sister was four. We were at home with our neighbor Ruth and her daughter Paige. They were watching us while our parents were out. Then around the time our parents were supposed to get back there was a knock on the door, instead of our parents coming through the door. Ruth asked me to get the door and I saw the police.
“Hello, is your babysitter here?” The younger of the two police officers asked me.
“Yes she is. I’ll go get her now,” I said.
I went to my sister’s room where Ruth was.
“Ruth there are two police officers that want to talk to you,” I told her.
“Okay I’ll go speak to them and you can get ready for bed.”
“Okay.”
It was about 20 minutes later when Ruth came back in. She told me to wake up Tai and Kari, when I asked why she said it was because we had to go to the hospital. That’s what sacred me because my brother, sister, my parents and I had never been to a hospital before, well Tai and I lived in a lab till I was 5 and he was 3, but that’s different. I woke Tai and Kari up and we got into Ruth’s car with Paige. Then when we got to the hospital Ruth went to the desk while we waited, during which time Kari fell back asleep in my arms. Then we were brought down to the morgue where we saw our mother’s body, the police were there and said that our father wasn’t found yet, but they would keep looking, but if they didn’t find him in a year they would stop looking for him. But they suggested that we find family that we could stay with. I knew that I couldn’t stay with Tai and Kari. Tai and I had been genetically modified, but the group that did this to us wanted me more than Tai because I was a female werewolf and the first hereditary one at that, but what they didn’t know was that I was also a witch, thank you mom. Kari was just like me except she was not genetically modified. So after we left the hospital Ruth had me get some things together for Tai, Kari and myself. I told her about the modifications that were done to me and Tai. Then I told her that the only safe place for Tai and Kari was with one of my mom’s sisters and her husband in Japan.
2. Chapter 1
Chapter One
Present day
Chloe’s pov
I was never normal but now I felt beyond weird, strange, and all the other things I’ve been called before. I felt like a…a freak. I was 2 or 3 miles from my home at 6 in the morning waiting for 2 guys that don’t even live here to show up in this coffee shop. All because of a stupid vision I had about 3 going on 3 ½ years ago. But the last few nights it kept repeating over and over, as clear as when I first had it.
I awoke one night from a dream-no a vision-that showed me that in a few years I would meet others that had been a part of the experiment with me and my brother, who I had told only one other person about and that was Nick Sorrentino, but Ruth Winterbourne and her daughter Paige knew about my brother and my sister. In the vision I saw two boys about my age at the time, which was 13. One had dark blonde hair and an Asian face and the other looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, well except for the acne. He had black hair, green eyes and a strong jaw line. He and the other boy both seemed familiar but I couldn’t tell where I had seen them before. They were being told that if something happened they were to go to Bear Valley, where I was now. I didn’t and still don’t think that is a coincidence, even now at 16going on16 ½.
Now as I remembered the vision I had the same strange feeling that I knew both boys as I did during the vision. Then suddenly my cell started ringing. I checked the caller ID, sure enough it said Stone haven. That was the place I called “home”.
I answered, “Hello?”
“Where are you Chloe?” A voice that I knew belonged to my grandfather Jeremy or Jer, asked.
“At the Donut Hole like I saw in my vision.”
“There is something I need to tell you about the boys you saw.”
“Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“They were both part of the experiment with you. But you can’t tell them the truth just yet. The dark haired one is possibly a Cain. He might not know the truth. So that means you can’t tell him the truth yet.”
“Okay I won’t, but what about the blonde Asian?”
“He is a sorcerer, his father is Kit Bae, who is Korean.”
I knew that Paige was the one that had told him all of this.
“I have all the stuff I might need if I have to run away, money, clothes, my cell, and my first aid kit and other medical supplies.” My laptop, Kindle, and anything else to keep me busy, I added to myself.
“Good, keep safe and wait to tell them the truth and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay. If I can’t come back I’ll call you but tell the others that I miss them and will see them soon.”
“Okay, I will. Goodbye, Chloe.”
“Goodbye, Jer,” I said then hung up with tears filling my eyes. | bd87e7cd06924b849837598e48d7bb84 | ['dc1ce38f7723493b8c43b4c1c825f67b'] | “True, but you really think that they wouldn’t get together themselves?”
“If it has taken this long so far I don’t want to know how long it would take them to open up and admit it then start dating.”
He was about to say something else when there was a knock on my door.
“My little helpers in my plan,” I told Arthur as I asked him with my eyes to leave.
He walked out as Stu, Jai, another tech op, and another operative.
I closed the door and said, “Thank you four for helping me with this, now onto the plan…”
2. Chapter 2
Auggie's pov
I got back from my coffee run and heard four people talking.
“Oh come on Jai, you can’t honestly say that you are a highly trained spy and you can’t see how they feel for each other?” That was Stu, now I wonder who the “they” he mentioned were.
“I’ll have you know that it is a front,” Jai replied.
“Oh, cut the crap Jai. It’s not a front and you know it you just want to believe it’s a front,” a female voice I couldn’t quite remember answered.
“Don’t try to argue with her Jai. She’s right and you know it, so just shut up or admit that Annie won’t ever be with you but will always smile and laugh and be truly happy with…” Another male voice I couldn’t place right now said, trailing off leaving me hanging.
SAY IT! DAMN IT! WHO WILL ALWAYS HAVE ANNIE’S LOVE AND BE THE ONE TO FOREVER BE HERS?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!? I thought to myself.
“Well let’s just say that he is close to her and has the same first initial as her,” the male voice continued so softly that I had to strain to hear him.
I then started to walk back to my office going right pass them to say hi and make it seem like I hadn’t heard them.
“The pool is getting bigger and is giving it more time now. And all we can do is sit back and watch to see who’s right,” Stu said. “But I’m willing to bet it’s the boss herself.”
Joan, is betting on when Annie and this mystery man whose first name starts with an A and is close to Annie will get together. My God, and I thought I’d heard everything.
My phone just started to ring as I walked into my office.
“Perfect timing,” I said out loud.
“Walker anyone ever tell you that you have the most perfect timing?” I asked Annie as I answered the phone.
“My sister but I’m pretty sure she was being sarcastic because I had just interrupted her and her current boyfriend- at the time- from having an all out make out session,” she replied.
“Of course you did, Annie. Now I assume that you are at your hotel?”
“I am, you are a very smart man, Anderson. I love the view of this place. How you manage to find these places is amazing Auggie.”
“Why thank you for the compliment Annie. Now do you remember what you need to do tomorrow when you go to the meet?”
“Yes, Auggie I remember, I talk to my contact, pass the information I have off and collect what information he has, stick around for two days and observe then come home.”
“Good girl, Walker. Now question is are you gonna follow through on every part of that plan?”
“Oh ha-ha, funny Auggie. Yes, I will, I promise.”
“Wow a promise to follow the exact orders of a mission coming from Annie Walker, pinch me I must be dreaming.”
“ I’m rolling my eyes at you. Gotta go Auggie.”
“When you get back we are going to Allen’s,” I said in a way that left no room for an argument just before hanging up.
Now I felt tempted to ask Joan who it was that was Annie’s love, but decided not to. I just sat back and relaxed, thinking, about Annie.
Stu’s pov
I had known Auggie was listening especially with the way he walked by and seemed causal. I say seemed because I knew him better than that, I could tell that he heard us. I then went t report to Joan.
“Auggie heard the conversation about Annie and who she loves without us saying it is him that she loves of course,” I told her.
“Perfect, now we wait till Annie comes back for the second part,” she replied with a smile.
“Oh, Joan, Jai seemed like he was planning something.”
“Oh? Like what, Stu?”
“Maybe a way to sabotage the plan, but I’m not entirely sure. I just thought I’d bring that up rather than wait till he actually did something.”
“Thank you Stu, I appreciate that, now we won’t be blindsided by it, but he won’t be as big of a part of the rest of the plan as he will soon discover.”
When she said that I wondered about the rest of the plan but I didn’t ask I would she later.
Author’s pov
For the next few days Jai was plotting on how to destroy Joan’s plan, not realizing that Stu already suspected him of planning on doing so. Auggie was helping Annie and trying to figure out who she loved. Although he couldn’t remember Annie ever mention a man that she was close to whose name starts with an A. He could be so blind about some things (no pun intended), but it made it funny to watch. Joan, Stu, and the rest of the DPD and Tech Ops just sat back and waited to see how this would turn out.
Joan went down to check in with Auggie about Annie’s mission. She was almost to his office when she saw him start pacing.
Joan's pov
I walked in and asked, “Auggie, what’s going on?” |
44e3a7f65e4c402696fca10776675c17 | ['dc20a79a0c88468f8236e88bd5f20e3a'] | "I'm not ready for this". And he's not, but Michelle takes it as his full thought. But it's not. Sid would have known but he's on the tarmac now, if not already ascending into the troposphere, above the clouds.
"For what?" Tony had forgotten Chelle was there, which he really shouldn't have since he loved her.
"All of this" Which is the truth. He doesn't know if he can handle being thrust back into the world so soon. He's only just gotten back to himself, and now he has to do it alone, without even Michelle if he wanted her.
"But you sort of need to be" And Michelle is still there, trying to convince him he'll be alright. She's sort of bollocksing it up. He wishes Sid had left her a script or something. 'What to Say When Tony is Having a Crisis of Faith' he should have called it. Just because he has to be alright doesn't mean he will. He's not magic. He's barely even Tony Stonem anymore, who is as close to a real life hero, or maybe an anti-hero, as you can get.
"You know," and Michelle is speaking again, but at least this time he hasn't forgotten she was there, even with Sid on the brain "the first time I met you," and that alone was curious enough because Tony remembers first meeting Michelle at a party, her completely shit faced and him a bit worse off, but holding it better. "I knew...I just..." and Tony can't imagine what she'd say next. Maybe it would be a declaration of love at first sight. But that wasn't Michelle, who while believing in love, wasn't as clichéd as that. "Knew I wanted to have sex with you".
Ah, now that was more Chelle. Chelle who might not be as good as reading Tony as Sid, but she knew how to make him smile, and laugh. And it wasn't perfect, but it was as close he could get.
"Fuck you," he snarks, but it's all in good spirits now.
"We were good weren't we?" And of course it had to get serious again at some point. Except it's not as serious as it could have, because they're still sort of smiling, and it's more like how it used to be before it all went to hell. And Tony finds himself nodding, not just because it's what's expected, but because it's what he truly thinks. They _were_ good.
"We were better than that".
They're smiling still, wider even, because just because they aren't anymore, even Michelle realizes that it's changed and can never go back. Tony can't be Tony without Sid, and if he's not Tony, Michelle doesn't really want him anyways. But they were good. And they'll remember all the times. Good and bad, what have you. Waking up under Tony's obscene duvet, Sid curled up at their feet, feeling awkward but not as awkward as it would if it was someone else, like Chris, or Anwar. Or when Tony tried to get Sid devirginized, and Sid thought he would get to be with Michelle but she had supplied Cassie, but it ended up not working out anyways that night. Or even the time Tony manipulated them both into seeking comfort from each other when he cheated with Abigail, only to cruelly jump in. Looking back though, it might have been less cruel and more Tony just expressing his true desires, to be with those he loved most in the whole world. They weren't ready for it then, they probably would never be. It was too strange, too taboo. But that was Tony for you, pushing the limits of acceptable.
Just with those words though, a whole relationship, a whole two and a half years, can just come quietly to an end. Almost unfitting compared to the rest of their time, but still somehow the same with way it just _was_. Tony doesn't have anything else to say and he no longer feels like he's going to crash Sid's dad's car so he starts it, looks at Michelle once more, in a new light, one without the taint of trying to pretend, and maybe he can find new friend in her? Only time will tell. And maybe she'll be someone he can call late at night to tease or to cry in front of about missing Sid and Chris and Effy and probably even Michelle herself, and everyone else too of course, because he feels he can.
He'll just have to learn to be Tony Stonem without Sid.
**Author's Note:**
> Getting into Tony's head is really cool. He's really underrated in my opinion. And strangely easy to write as. This was the first fic I've ever published (and was crossposted on ff.net like 3 years ago) and I still go back and read it occasionally because there is a severe lack of Tony/Sid bromantic feelings in my life at every point in my life. Even 3 years later there isn't very much to do with Tony and Sid which is kind of boggling because I feel they have so much depth as characters to explore!
>
> This work has been edited by me slightly from the first posting for better word choice and paragraph division. When I first posted a friend told me it was a TL;DR block of text, hope I fixed that. But it wasn't beta-read and wasn't edited by anyone other than myself, so there's that.
>
> But anyways thank you for reading! | f1449214340d433aae0d8098d2734d45 | ['dc20a79a0c88468f8236e88bd5f20e3a'] | Near was a fool, he realizes, as he dissociates himself from their current interaction. He wasn’t suited to be the kind of companion Matt might need. Matt is sunshine, warmth and solid loyalty. Near is like frost and, at best, cool and distant. There’s a faint feeling that might be regret but it's a little more bittersweet, as if he’s mourning all the interactions that could have been if only he was normal.
“I,” Near starts, throat thick with unfamiliar emotions, “I’m not a sociopath, Matt. I’m not emotionless. If anything, Mello is the heartless one. He left. He was too stupid to-“
Near’s sentence is cut off by that vice grip on his shoulder again and this time Matt is shaking him violently as if rattling Near enough will erase his words like an etch-a-sketch. Near goes limp to make himself a more pathetic target in the hopes that Matt’s moral compass won’t let him hurt someone who won’t fight back.
“Shut the fuck up about him!” Matt grits out between clenched teeth. He’s going red around the ears and high up on his cheeks with barely restrained anger. Near’s never noticed before, but Matt has very faint freckles unevenly distributed on his cheeks and forehead. There’s a particularly dark one above his left eyebrow right above where it’s drawn together with his right. He thinks he’s never been this close to Matt before and he’s also never been able to clearly see his eyes because his goggles were always in the way. There’s moisture gathering on the surface of them.
“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” Matt says. His hand is rhythmically clenching and unclenching on Near’s shoulder, like he's unsure if he wants to push the other boy away or out the window or if he wants to make sure he can’t run away, just in case he _does_ decide to hit him.
“I’m sorry,” Near says, even though he’s not sure if he really is. He does hate Mello for leaving and he does think leaving without ensuring his own safety was stupid; but he might be sorry that he’d upset Matt. He hates that he might be responsible for the tears that remain unshed along his waterline. Whether they’re from missing Mello or the rage he felt at Near, he’s still sorry they’re there. And he’s sorry for the thought that ran through his head when he noticed them, about how pretty they made Matt’s eyes, how much brighter the green seemed with the silver moonlight bouncing off the wetness.
Near brings one of his aching hands up to touch Matt’s where it rests on his shoulder, the other one gripping the hem his own button down. The action startles Matt enough that all traces of anger momentarily disappear from his face and a droplet threatens to fall from the corner of his eye. It does and they both go very still, as if now the emotion was real and had to be acknowledged.
“I miss him,” Matt whispers, wide-eyed and terrified.
Near’s chest constricts again. His heart has never been the strongest and it’s making sure he remembers. His own eyes are wider than usual as he makes eye contact with Matt and whispers back, “Me too.”
Matt slumps as if the pride that had been helping him carry on in the year that Mello has been gone has fled from him. He rests his body weight against Near as he places his forehead on the opposite shoulder from his hand. Matt’s left hand finally comes up, but it doesn’t harm Near, only grips his shirt tightly at the waist. The fabric bunches up between his fingers and goes uncomfortably tight on Near’s left side, the seam pressing into the delicate skin there. If he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen over. He can feel Matt’s tears soaking through his shirt.
Near is a terrible person to think it, but he’s never been warmer. |
cb854d3942ff4f1fa384cd687103f380 | ['dc4af167a3eb47f19b8df9e71aaacee4'] | He sat quietly for several minutes, taking in the scattered, budding trees before he took out his phone. In the window of time that hung between now and their arrival, he’d been planning to call Frohike or Langley or the other one, see if they found anything else on that chip, but his phone wasn’t reading any bars.
“I’m not gettin’ any reception,” he said, breaking the silence and looking into the front seat. “Either of you?”
Agent Scully met his eyes in the rear-view mirror, a look on her face like she’d almost forgotten he was there. They were hollow green, maybe hopeful. He didn’t know, exactly, what he was reading in them. She pulled out her phone, looked down, and shook her head.
“No,” Skinner said as he cleared his throat. “Hopeless out here.”
In the deafening silence that settled in the car, he wondered if it was Agent Scully’s heartbeat he could hear over the smooth rotation of the tires, rolling over dirt and pebble.
++++++++++++++++++++
Mulder dashed into the airport, two minutes past five. Various bones and muscles throbbed out in disapproval at his speed, but he didn’t have the concentration to register their protests.
When he checked the arrivals board the enthusiasm that had been keeping his metaphorical batteries charged seemed to drain of its energy reserves.
3:46
There was a scrolling marquee that announced: **Ahead of schedule!** in cheerful, bold lettering.
He suppressed any show of anger, panic now taking the place of the anticipation he’d been feeling just seconds ago at the thought of seeing her face. Touching her skin.
But there wasn’t time to entertain ‘if onlys’, so he ran back to the car.
_Just great_ , he wanted to yell out loud. _JUST GREAT_ that he’d somehow managed to turn a four hour drive into three only to find out that Scully was still about fifteen minutes ahead of him, and likely moving further towards danger with every second. Time seemed to shrivel, the air sucked right out of it like one of those space-saver vacuum bags.
“ _Shit,_ ” he said, entering the car, figuring Millie to be as good a recipient as any of his frustration.
She leaned towards the driver’s seat to turn the key in the ignition, starting up the Chevy yet again. “We missed it.” She didn’t say it like a question.
Mulder nodded and buckled his seatbelt, ready to book it the hell out of there. “Guess we’ll be driving a giant circle,” he said. His hands began to sweat. He tried not to think of what could happen if he couldn’t, somehow, catch up to Scully. He was unsuccessful, unable to find the off button in his brain, the one that stopped horrific potentials from entering his awareness.
He’d told Millie the gist of the story on the car ride here, at least what he knew of it. She’d listened and nodded for the duration, like she was playing an important supporting role in _The Greatest Story Ever Told._ In general, she seemed to treat life like the arc of a piece of fiction: outlining antagonists, protagonists and conflict, every aspect of what he told her fitting into some chapter in the whole of a story. The ease with which she absorbed and accepted all this improbable information likely meant she was a bit whacked in the head, but after not talking to anyone for weeks, being forced in and out of consciousness, and spending most of his coherent time feeling like there was a kid playing Mr. Potato Head with the various components of his cerebrum, it was nice to have someone who just listened.
“You wanna remind me again why it is you haven’t just called the cops?” she asked, disrupting his thoughts. “A siren would be helpful right about now.”
“Part of the deal,” Mulder said. “I told him I wouldn’t out him if he did the things I asked. If the cops showed up he’d know I was bluffing. There’s something in it for me that he’d know I’m not willing to sacrifice by bringing the cops into this.”
“What’s that?”
He clenched his jaw. “Scully’s safety.”
“AHA, so this _is_ a love story,” she said, taking out a water bottle and popping up the cap with her teeth. “I knew it. You’ve got sick puppy written all over your cut-up face.” She crinkled open a bag of Cheetos and shoved one into her mouth, the crunch a stiff background noise to the thoughts in his head.
“I’m the reason she’s in danger.” When the words slipped from his lips and into the atmosphere he felt a chill stinging him from the inside out, migrating from his ankles all the way to his neck, the hair on his arms raising.
“And don’t you think if this bad guy’s got half a brain on him he’s fled by now? And done all them things you wanted?”
Mulder hoped like hell that this was case.
“If he believed my threats held water? Maybe. The man we’re dealing with is not predictable.”
“You’re a decent liar,” she said, shrugging.
“Yeah?”
“I believed you when you said your name was Mike.”
“Really? Thanks, Mill. I’m flattered.” He said it sarcastically, but it was the truth. Though he was too overcome by circumstance to process small talk, he couldn’t begin to understand why he was telling her all this.
She gave him directions leading back to the factory, at which point he realized that it really _was_ a giant, unsophisticated circle they were covering. Mulder sucked in stifling air, feeling one with the road after every bump (and there were plenty) that they drove over.
Millie broke the silence about twenty minutes later. They were getting close. He could feel Scully’s presence, but maybe that was all in his head.
“Earlier you said you don’t trust people,” she stated, pensive. “Why am I here then?” | 2c21b388f31249b9a2121d315935f56c | ['dc4af167a3eb47f19b8df9e71aaacee4'] | _He popped a few airline peanuts into his mouth, chewing as he thought. “I see, Scully. You don’t believe me. When the stewardess comes around again, I’ll prepare it for you. How’s that?”_
_She accepted his challenge, daring him to get it wrong._
_He didn’t._
_It was exactly right. He even stirred it for her, smiling coyly._
_“I can’t help but notice that you’re more relaxed on planes now,” he observed a few minutes later. Mulder offered her some peanuts by holding the bag out and raising an eyebrow; she declined._
_“When you make a living by flying around the world because of ridiculous captions in far from reputable newspapers, you get used to it,” she replied, sarcastic, sipping her coffee appreciatively, so as not to be too harsh._
_He smiled at her, offering amends by placing his complimentary mint into her cup-holder._
Scully closed her eyes to the memory. When she opened them she bit back despair at the emptiness of the seat to her left.
She hadn’t wanted to mention, at the time, that her comfort in the air was largely related to his presence beside her. Today, on one of the first flights she’d flown without him, she could feel the anxiety rising like flood water.
She put it on the list of things to tell him, should she find him.
She would. She _would_ find him, she told herself.
Scully swilled her coffee and waited for land.
++++++++++++++++++++
He focused, closing his eyes. Mulder tried not to let the fact that his heart was beating a mile a minute be heard in the pace of his breathing or the timbre of his voice.
“State your purpose,” a man said, low and throaty.
Mulder summoned up all the smart-ass within him. He’d need all of that and more for what he was about to do.
“With such a friendly greeting, I’m at a loss for how to proceed with this conversation,” Mulder said. The man didn’t respond. “I’ll start by saying that this is Fox Mulder and I’d like to speak with your boss.”
Half a minute passed.
(There was a clock in the hallway. Mulder stared at the second hand, counting, trying to solidify his plan. Trying to anticipate all possible responses.)
“Agent Mulder,” a voice said. It was a familiar voice. The one he expected to hear. Mulder could feel the cloud of cigarette smoke in the air around his phone without needing to smell or see it.
“They always put me through to you if I say all the right things,” Mulder started. “Who knew in this case all I’d need to do was introduce myself?”
“Agent Mulder, to what do I owe this call?” The bastard’s voice was smooth and calm. If he was surprised to hear Mulder on the phone, he didn’t allow the emotion into his tone.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that I’m supposed to be in one of those metal chairs of yours right now, yet here we are talking on the phone like old buds? How long did it take for them to realize? I bet you only recently discovered my absence.” There was silence on the other end. “You _did!_ ” Mulder exclaimed, trying to summon glee into his tone. “Well in that case, I guess I could have waited a little longer. Gotten even further away.”
“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.”
Mulder heard a wheeze interrupt his crackly sentence.
He knew he had to keep this short. Lessen the chance they could get a trace on him. He had a couple of minutes, if that.
“Maybe I can explain it to you,” he said. “Would you like that?”
“If you insist.”
“You’re probably trying to keep me on the line now. Get a location, but I’ll tell you right now that’ll do you no good. How do you imagine I got away?” Mulder asked, and it was rhetorical, of course, but he let the moment hang for a few seconds. “I had help, which I’m sure you’ve gathered. You don’t suppose whoever helped me would have let me off on my own in the middle of nowhere without one of your very own high-tech cell phones to use, do you? Amidst the list of contacts I handily find this number?” Mulder left another pause, hoping his tone gave off an air of conviction. “And I mean. He’d have to have motive to help me, right? He wouldn’t just have, you know, done it for no reason. And not also supplied me with all the evidence I’ll ever need to bury you.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Oh, if only. But either way, I have the numbers for every news outlet in the northern hemisphere right next to me,” he lied. “You can’t take the chance that I’m not, so you’ll do what I tell you to do or I expose your project and your agenda.”
He was pulling at straws here, making guesses based on what he’d seen in the experimentation room, the few things he’d overheard. He wished like hell he had more trust in his powers of analytical deduction right now, but at the very least he could _sound_ sure of himself.
There was a brief pause on the other end.
“Agent Mulder, posit I knew what you were referring to. Who has ever believed the stories you’ve dreamed up?”
Mulder was quick with an answer. He knew he had to be.
“Seeing is believing. No one will question my credibility when they see what I have.”
“What is it, exactly, that you have?” |
2f05f9a44f594cacbc30ba82073ddf0f | ['dc6c426aaf8a4d619cefda2940a9ea1e'] |
A Power of the Mind and Soul
**Author's Note:**
> #NoNotes
Chapter 1: Primeval Thoughts
Exhaustedly, Harry climbed the step to the Gryffindor Common Room. He was drained of all energy after his session with Snape. Twice every week he was mentally assaulted by the Potions Master, who seemed to enjoy the painful lessons, and it was sanctioned by Dumbledore no less.
He'd tried complaining, oh how he had tried, but it seemed that there was no other way to keep Voldemort out than to pit Harry against the only person that hated him as much as Voldemort and could make his life miserable as well.
Even Malfoy didn't hate him that much. Years of interaction showed that his ignorant refusal of Malfoy's hand before the Sorting Ceremony created a jealous rift between the two of them. Then their daily interactions only fueled the growing hate.
He remembered Malfoy's words with his outstretched hand. 'Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.' Malfoy could have made a good friend if what their conversation in Madam Malkins was anything to go by. For someone so anal about self-service, he seemed to be very close with his pack of Slytherins. Not that I would ever let myself be run over by someone like him.
But it was in the past. What's done is done. Maybe after the war and there are no "Dark Lords" to kiss the robe of, maybe things would change at Hogwarts. Not that he would be there; he honestly expected to die while trying to defeat the Dark Lord, not for lack of trying. He would give it his all not that Dumbledore or the order seemed to help much.
What was the good of learning to (not) defend his mind from Voldemort, especially when he was not receiving any other form of training on Dumbledore's part or Defense on Umbridge's which, he guessed was also Dumbledore's fault. The most unworthy witch (close) to exist, in existence. He really wished she would trip on her pink shoes onto her pink carpet and stab herself in the throat with that god-forsaken Quill. Rrribbi-… and silence.
It appeared that people were lining up to take swings at him. Umbridge, Voldemort, Malfoy, Fudge, and … Snape. And with how fickle the wizarding world was, he figured they would accuse him of being evil about a hundred more times before he and Voldemort went down. Even his best friend, who seemed to want his "friendship", seemed to enjoy believing the rumors about him. Like with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, wasn't a quality of Gryffindor bravery and trust, he couldn't support his best friend like a best friend should? Maybe he wasn't one.
"Ahem… Would you like to enter dear? You will need to say the password." The Fat Lady smiled down at him politely, but with an exasperated undertone.
Harry started; being lost in his thoughts could have been dangerous. Thank God one of the staircases hadn't moved from in front of him, he would have fall and been the Boy-Who-Went-Splat. "Ophidiophobia," he muttered.
"Good night," she called softly as she opened to grant him access. With a sigh he tumbled through the portrait hole into the mostly empty common room.
Only two people were in the common room. Neville sat the window seat looking at the Cephalanthus in the moonlight. The other person was none other than Hermione Granger, her bushy hair barely seen over the back of the arm chair she sat in, fully distracted by the book she was currently reading.
Neville looked over as the passage shut behind him. "Hey Harry, long night? You know, you don't look too well, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should get some sleep."
Neville, Neville. The DA meetings were doing wonders for him. "Yeah, it's been a rough day, Monday and all. I probably will hit the sack. You know how Snape is and how horrifying one-on-one "remedial potions" would be. I'm exhausted and haven't really felt like a diamond since before the school year." And it was true well not the remedial potions part. Dudley had tripped him on the stairs on his birthday and he hadn't been feeling right since. His body felt weird and he was much more hungry than normal.
"Well good night, Harry."
"Good night, Neville." He looked over to Hermione, she hadn't budged, but that was Hermione. He yawned. Walking to the staircase he began to climb to the 5th year boys dormitory. The other boys were there. Dean and Seamus were talking and joking quietly at their bunks. Ron was flipping through a Quidditch magazine, the chaser for the Chudley Cannons and some other obscure team zipping around the cover.
Ron looked up at him before continuing to flip through the magazine. Just like last year, Harry thought. We try to work it out and everything sounds okay, but no matter what happens he will never trust that I don't look for trouble. I don't want to deal with what I do, but I do. Even when I saved his dad, I don't get any respect. Now I'm part Voldemort, the Future Dark Lord. Just can't do anything right, can I?
Harry got ready for bed while brooding about hypocritical best friends and his stalker, Trouble. As he flopped onto his bed, he spelled the curtains shut and silenced incase he had a nightmare. Thinking once more about Snape he decides to actually try clearing his mind. With some difficulty he manages to ignore all outside thoughts and imagined a blankness… I wonder if the twins will do any pranks on Umbridge tomorrow. Harry forced out the thought and visualized a meadow in a forest, on a plateau, peaceful and quiet. He drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 2: A Whole New World, Without Jasmine | fbb5248395b847c4b251ab034098d242 | ['dc6c426aaf8a4d619cefda2940a9ea1e'] | ~"Umm… sure. Hold on a sec." The line did not hang up, nor was there complete silence. Sounds of chatter and activity could be heard in the background. Theo flipped Mastermind over onto his stomach, tying his hands together behind his back, then tying his feet. He wrapped the red cloth around Mastermind's head twice, gagging him him with two loops, before knotting it on both open ends and with the tightly bound loops as well.
~"Theo? Still there?" Scott's voice came. Theo answered him yes as he drug Mastermind's body to the back of my car. ~"All right. The Professor said that anytime was fine, once classes had started. That is at 8. He also asked me to tell you that he would help you if you need it. That you don't have to miss your appointment. He said he would have told you himself, but can't seem to be able to."
Theo gave a short laugh, thinking it over. If he took the man to an abandoned warehouse to question him, then he would have to get rid of him, lest the man tell anyone about him. He doubted the Professor would feel very good about an interrogation and torture. But if the man's fear of him was anything, he wouldn't need any coercion to talk.
"What do you know about a mutant named Mastermind?" Scott paused for a second before answering. ~"He is a highly dangerous mutant with the ability to create psychosomatic illusions that control all of the senses and even some thoughts and emotions. His powers are ranged to those within his telepathic reach and those who have fully succumbed to his powers previously, but he needs augmentation for power and reach."
Theo used the duration of his response to lift Mastermind into the trunk of my car, shoving him down further to prevent him from hitting the lid of trunk when he closed it. "Then, is anyone immune to his powers?" I asked. ~"Strong telepaths can put up barriers to defend their minds, but if he is backed by enough power or if they fail, then they too will fall for his illusions. I'm not an expert, I've studied things like this, but the Professor or Jean would know more."
"Then if you don't mind, I will be arriving at the Institute in a few hours, with a guest. The Professor will know who." Theo began rifling through the man's pockets, popping open his trench coat. Then he saw it. Plated metal, wires, transmitters, and glowing lights, all hidden under the man's coat.
He looked at the hazily-glowing, purple gem at the center of the breastplate, harnessed to the rest of the suit. He unclipped the straps to the harness, pulled the electrical components he could reach from their sockets and soldering, and pulled of the chestplate. He slammed the trunk closed and grabbed his bag. He tossed it in the backseat when he got in and started his car.
His music, which had been previously quite loud, lowered as his GPS greeted him. "Hello, 'Theo'. Please confirm that you are headed to 'the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters' at '1407 Gray-'." The navigations british voice stopped as he pressed yes before slipping out of his parking space to go down ramp to the parking garage's exit. "Calculating Route!"
(I really like the ending to that section. Mostly because I absolutely hate every person who has ever audition to be an American-recorded computer voice. They're all fucking irritating… If I have offended you, get over it, you know you agree.)
It was a mansion, with fountains and lakes, basketball and tennis courts, a track field and wooded areas surrounding. It looked like an architect of most college campuses and an upper-class designer had a head-on collision with each other, their injuries so severely inoperable that they became mid-life, accidental, siamese twins and continued in their creative occupations, here in New York.
Or a mansion had been restyled and added to, to form a school… but the siamese twin story was much more fun. Theo was laughing to himself quietly as the gates opened at his approach. "'Theo', you have arrived at your chosen destination. Have a good day!" He drove down the long driveway. He approached the fountain, it stood in the middle of the circle that ran in front of the entrance and split into two roads, one going around the mansion, the other finishing the roundabout before reconnecting to exit the way he'd come, through the gate.
Theo was entering the loop when the doors opened, revealing Mrs. Munroe, the disabled Professor, and a young guy wearing sunglasses. He gently applied the brakes, the smooth quiet of the car easing into a low idle as he geared into park. He checked himself, while watching the three out of the corner of his eye, making sure he was prepped for a fight if it came, then Theo pushed the stop-engine button.
He glanced again at the group while he opened his door, stepping out and looking around the fountains and the grounds with a single sweeping look, before turning back. The door closed behind him as he walked toward the steps. Theo stopped three steps down from the top landing where they had arranged themselves in a wedge shape. They stood across from each other for a short while. Xavier broke the silence.
"I suppose since you're here, you've decided completely?" His eyes studied me carefully, but not coldly. Theo closed his eyes for a second, thinking his answer over, it had been on his mind most of the drive. His eyes reopened looking at the dark, red shades, then into Ororo's chocolate pools, then back to Xavier's dark depths.
"Yes," he answered slowly. "If you can watch my back while I find out how I was found and why they came for me, then I will help you in return, to be fair." The man before him nodded slowly. "Make no mistake… I work for myself and am not to be trusted, but I am fair and honest. I will play by your rules to the best of my ability, and if I can't I will make sure you know that. Do we have an agreement?" Theo waited as the man continued to look at him.
"The ensured safety of the students is most important, other things may follow. Your completion of your education is required. Any other talents you may offer will be sorted out later. I will in return offer you my contacts, my skills and any other assistance you may need as well as a position in the school as a student and resident until the circumstances that have occurred have otherwise ended or as such are no longer a problem." His condition were reasonable, Theo preferred not to harm innocent people, though innocence means nothing in a battle for survival.
"Those terms are acceptable to me." Theo spoke the words while at the same time his brain began riding a rollercoaster in his head, static buzzing in his ears. His hand came up to rub his forehead as his mind settled. "That's good to hear," Xavier replied, though his face betrayed no emotion, remaining stoic.
"I am Professor Charles Xavier. This, as you have already met, is Ororo Munroe, and this young man is Scott Summers." He paused as Ororo greeted Theo with 'Hello again' and Scott nodded his head once. "I have already sent Peter down to the garage," he said turning the chair slightly to face Scott. He looked between the two of them as he continued. "if you would lead Mr. Du-" "You can call me Mr. Newport, Mr. Glass, Mr. Smith, or Theo, I don't care, but that name is my own," he interrupted hastily.
"I see. Theo…" he waited for the nod. "if you would escort Theo to the garage, so he can park in a more long-term position, as well as take care of his business. I believe his guest is waking." Scott nodded to the Professor and began moving towards me. I nodded to the professor as well, before turning to Scott, gesturing towards my car. We both continued down the stairs, I rounded to the driver's side, the doors unlocking at my proximity to the handle.
As both Scott and I slid into the car seats I chucked out loud and commented, "Well… that could have gone sooo much worse." |
51e0d5a5290347ddbb0586d1660e6f44 | ['dc7a5a4cd16c48248e2d386d11fb2577'] |
Stupid
**Author's Note:**
> writing this is the first time ive ever felt shame
The bar is loud.
Most bars are, and Stiles has been inside more than he can count; Dean and Sam got too old to go in with Daddy before long, but Stiles easily had a place on Daddy’s lap, too young for anyone to be suspicious of sneaking sips of his father’s whiskey. Stiles remembers coming back to the car more than once to find his brothers on separate bench seats, breathing heavy with messy hair, rumpled jackets, and bright red mouths. Before, he thought they’d gotten in a fight. Sucker-punched each other right on the mouth. His ears flush with the sudden realization of how wrong he’d been.
The door swings shut, heavy but silent, behind him. It’s dim and smoky inside, the floor made of uneven, creaking wood; rock music blares over the speakers, and the steady murmur of concurrent conversations melds together with it until Stiles can’t understand any words at all. The bar is taller than he is, and he walks behind the row of stools, craning his neck to see if any of the men sat on them is his Daddy.
As he reaches the end of the bar, his heart sinks, anxiety starting to churn in the pit of his stomach; his Daddy’s deep rumble and the strong line of his jaw are unmistakable, and Stiles had caught no glimpse of either. His brow crumples in confusion and frustration, and he backs himself into a corner with a dustpan and broom propped against it to try and see the whole bar at once. Maybe Dean was wrong. Maybe Daddy isn’t here at all. Stiles didn’t see the car on his walk in.
Maybe Dean lied to him on purpose.
It’s a mean thought, and Stiles regrets thinking it as soon as it occurs to him, but the possibility twists in his guts and makes him feel a little sick. Ever since Stiles saw Daddy hit him, his oldest brother seemed somehow colder than his previous distant indifference.
“Are you lost, little one?” Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice that seems to come out of nowhere, soft but impossibly close to his ear. His head whips around until he comes face to face with the source - a tall, handsome man with sharp, downturned blue eyes is knelt down beside him, head tilted to the side in question. “Sorry,” he laughs softly, holding up his hands, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m—I’m looking for my daddy,” Stiles gasps, heart beating wildly from his scare. He clutches the front of his hoodie, fingers twisted tight in the fabric as he fights to calm his breathing, to slow down. The man reaches out to gently squeeze his shoulders.
“Is he here?” he asks.
“My brother said so,” says Stiles. He feels a little foolish, still, like he’s been duped, and he avoids the nice man’s eyes, staring resolutely down at his shoes and chewing on his lip.
“Well, alright,” the man says. “Why don’t you come and sit with me and see if we can find him from higher up, huh?” He offers his hand; Stiles glances sideways at it, and up at the man, before he nods.
“Okay. Thanks,” he says. He follows the man back to his seat at the bar, lifts his elbows away from his sides so that the man can hoist him up by his underarms to sit on his lap.
“What’s your name, kiddo?” he asks once he has Stiles situated comfortably, one hand locked firmly around his waist to keep him from toppling; he holds his drink casually in his other hand, scanning across the bar, but after a moment, he sets it down, dropping his hand to rest on Stiles’ knee.
“Stiles.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Peter,” he says, lifting his hand from his knee to hold out to shake; Stiles finds it a little silly, but he shakes Peter’s hand anyway, a small, nervous smile making a brief appearance on his face. Peter smiles warmly in return, then turns to watch the bar again; Stiles does the same, twisting a little in Peter’s grasp to try and see better. It feels familiar. It feels just like sitting with Daddy and watching the other people, whispering jokes into Daddy’s collar to see if he can feel the way his chuckle vibrates through his chest.
It’s easier to see faces from his seat on Peter’s lap, and Stiles zeroes in on one familiar one leaving the bathroom.
“Daddy,” he gasps, and then again, louder: “Daddy!” Peter sets his drink down with lightning-fast reflexes to avoid getting it knocked out of his hand as Stiles lifts his arms to wave; Daddy looks over for a moment before recognition spreads across his face, quickly followed by confusion. By the time he reaches Peter and Stiles, it’s somehow morphed to anger, jaw set tight and brow heavy over his eyes.
“Stiles, get down right now.”
“Daddy—” he says, but Daddy snaps his fingers; he’s not even looking at Stiles, he realizes as he slides off of Peter’s lap and onto his feet, but staring daggers directly into Peter’s cool, blue gaze.
“You keep your fuckin’ hands off my son,” he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear, but it runs a chill down Stiles’ spine all the same.
“Daddy, he was just helping—”
“Stiles!” Daddy’s hand wraps tightly around his wrist, tugging him back behind his legs. “We’re leaving.” Daddy turns, dragging Stiles toward the door; Stiles looks over his shoulder, wide-eyed in confusion, to catch Peter waving goodbye before Daddy tugs him outside.
Daddy’s pace is fast, his stride heavy and powerful; Stiles grabs onto Daddy’s wrist with his free hand as he runs to catch up, afraid of tripping on the uneven asphalt of the parking lot. | 4519f72079344ab1ba30ec3251d25575 | ['dc7a5a4cd16c48248e2d386d11fb2577'] |
Purpose.
**Author's Note:**
> Based on this moment:
>
> Arin: "Next time on Game Grumps, I will actually slap Dan, and remind him of his PURPOSE."
> Dan, quietly: "That actually does sound like fun…"
> [...]
> Dan: "What were you thinking of slapping, my—my. My facial region, or like. My buttcheeks?"
> Arin: "It's not up to you. And I don't want to get you excited for either."
> — Link To The Past #30
"So..." Dan starts, paused in the middle of shutting down the Grump room for the night; he draws out the word the way he does when he's not sure how to say what he wants to say, but trails off as he glances sideways at Arin. Arin barely looks up from double-checking their time notations for the episodes, but he hums, a quiet gesture to tell Dan to continue, that he's listening. "Um. About that slapping thing. Did you—were you, like—I mean. Was that serious, or..?"
Arin sits back from his notes, lifting his attention to the man on the couch beside him. He watches Dan push his hair back off of his face, shaking the mane out bigger than it started as he detangles his fingers from the mass of it. It's not exactly a nervous habit—Dan always has his fingers in his hair—but more of a grounding one, something that keeps him present and reminds him that he's real.
"Did you want it to be?" Arin asks, slowly, placing his notebook out of the way on the table behind the couch.
"Yeah, I'm down," says Dan, a little too quick on the jump, and he laughs at himself and his over-eagerness; his high-pitched giggle is infectious, and it drags Arin's chuckle from his chest with ease. He draws himself up, straightening his back and planting his feet wide apart on the floor.
"Yeah, alright, fuck it. C'mere." Arin leans his forearms on his knees, pointing at the space between his feet on the ground. Dan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment Arin prepares to shift gears; but his expression is less 'this is too much and I'm panicking' than it is 'Christmas came early', and Arin relaxes into his posture.
"Jesus, right now? Okay." Dan slips off the couch, ducking under the boom of his mic stand to settle on his knees in front of Arin. He has to tip his head back to look at his friend now, but the position is comfortable and familiar; they share a fond smile as Arin's fingers slide into the back of Dan's hair.
"Good boy," he says, tugging gently on the hair at the nape of Dan's neck. He runs his thumb over Dan's lips, across his cheekbone. "Do you remember the system?"
"Red for stop, yellow for pause." Dan knows the rule by heart, could recite it in his sleep or suspended upside down in a tank of water, but Arin wants to hear it every time, wants Dan to know that the option is there in every scene, every time he goes under. Arin takes a moment to pet his cheek, eyes soft and half-lidded with affection, and Dan nuzzles into his palm, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to the heel. Arin's fingers still, resting in the hollow between Dan's cheekbone and jaw for an excruciating few seconds of anticipation. Dan's breath catches in his throat, waiting to be forced out.
The slap comes quickly, a sharp snap of Arin's wrist leaving Dan's skin stinging and red. The smack is loud in the relative quiet of the room, with none of their equipment humming to muffle the noise; the sound mingles with a sharp involuntary noise yanked from Dan's throat. Arin watches his headspace change in an instant, shoulders dropping forward and eyes lowered to the ground.
"Look at me," Arin murmurs, pulling Dan's head back by his hair. "Still with me?" Dan focuses on Arin after a moment, his dark eyes hooded and his mouth slack; the open expression stokes the flame building in Arin's belly. He lays in another smack, watching the stark white imprints from his fingers flush with pink, listening for the keen of Dan's voice.
"You're doing so good," he says. "One more for me?" Dan presses his cheek into Arin's palm in response, murmuring a soft 'uh-huh.' This time, Arin can see tiny dots of red push up along Dan's cheek, his telltale sign not to push any further; the face is sensitive, and he doesn't want to risk causing real damage.
He leans down to kiss Dan, the hand in his hair tipping his head for the right angle, and reaches with his other hand to loosen Dan's belt. He tugs the button of his jeans open, laughing as he pulls back at the way Dan's knees slide apart along the carpet on instinct, how his hips lift up into his hand, hoping for a little bit of friction. Arin settles back into the couch, detangling his hand from the mess of Dan's hair and patting his thigh. "C'mon up," he says.
Dan clambers into his lap, clumsy in his lanky body and even more so from his enthusiasm. Arin can't help but laugh as Dan settles belly-down across his thighs, his enormous tennis shoes hanging over the arm of the couch.
"What's so funny?" Dan whines, his voice muffled by the couch cushion; Arin shakes his head, still giggling as his hands curl around Dan's slender waist and into the waistband of his jeans.
"You," he says, tugging Dan's pants and underwear down his thighs. "You're just so cute. I just wanna pinch your cheeks," he continues, lilting up into a silly grandma voice as he pinches Dan's butt. Dan bursts into laughter, wrapping his arms around his head as his face turns red, and Arin laughs too, shaking his head and keeping hold of Dan's body to keep him from falling off of his lap. |
ee13bd0ed6da4bf2a1f7ce65343ab534 | ['dc7c3e0acfff42f2a0ea75e7debff190'] | “Why ban it, then?” countered Merlin wearily. “Years of not knowing anything about magic has made people fear it. D’you know that if I get caught casting a spell – _any_ spell – even something completely harmless, I’ll get arrested and sentenced to death?” He sighed. “They abolished the death penalty years ago for everything _but_ sorcery. But in the end, magic’s neither good nor evil. It’s a tool to help me do my job, same as our guns, or any of our other gadgets.”
Arthur was staring at him. He nodded slowly. “I suppose you have a point,” he said. “And, er, I guess I can see why you didn’t want to tell anyone about it.”
“I wanted to tell you,” Merlin said earnestly. “I really did, Arthur. But, well, I was – scared, I guess.” He looked away. “I didn’t want to lose y – ” he stopped and cleared his throat, “ – to lose our partnership,” he amended hastily.
Merlin yelped as Arthur released him and cuffed him on the back of the head. “Stop being such a girl, Merlin,” he sniffed. “As if I’d break up our partnership just because you’re being an idiot again.”
Merlin laughed, feeling the cold knot that’d clenched around his heart from the moment Arthur had slammed him against the wall unwind. “I should’ve trusted you,” he said. “Lance said I should tell you, too.”
There was an ominous silence. Merlin, realizing his mistake, froze like a deer in headlights.
“You told _Lance_ and not me?” Arthur demanded, advancing on him, eyes glittering dangerously.
“It was before we were partnered,” Merlin explained quickly, backing away. “Lance and I were temporary partners, and Mr. Kilgharrah sent us to extract Morgana from deep cover – I used a binding spell to get us out of a tight spot, and Lance saw me cast it. He swore he wouldn’t tell anyone. So, only he and Mr. Kilgharrah know about my magic. Oh, and Gaius. And, um, my mum knows, of course.”
Arthur looked torn between being hurt that he hadn’t been the first to know about Merlin’s magic, and cross that his sister, Morgana, had been putting herself in danger again.
“Anyway, Morgana was fine, so all’s well that ends well,” says Merlin hastily, hoping to distract Arthur from being hurt that Merlin hadn’t confided in him. Arthur being mad at him, he could deal with (maybe), but Arthur’s hurt puppy-dog look did things to Merlin’s heart that Merlin wasn’t sure how to handle.
Arthur took the bait. “I know she’s a field agent too, just like us,” he said, frowning deeply, “but she’s my sister and I _hate_ it when she puts herself in danger.”
Merlin made a vague noise that he hoped sounded comforting.
“Morgana’s very good at her job,” he said reassuringly, and hastily decided not to tell Arthur just yet that he and Lance hadn’t actually had to _rescue_ Morgana, because as they’d been breaking into the supposedly secure facility where she was being held, they’d run into Morgana – who’d broken herself out of her cell with her _own_ magic – on her way out.
(When they’d happened upon Morgana casting a spell on two of the hapless guards chasing her, she’d been grinning with glee, right up to the point where she’d spotted them, then her face had gone deathly pale. Lance had looked from Morgana to Merlin, the picture of bewilderment.
“Can _everyone_ do this but me?” he’d asked Merlin, a little plaintive. Morgana had looked sharply at Merlin then, and as Merlin had touched a finger to his lips and winked at her, she’d smiled back at him, the color coming back into her cheeks, and nothing more had been said on the subject.)
Arthur threw an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, startling him out of his reverie. “Anyway, _Mer_ lin,” he said pointedly, “don’t think you’re getting off so easily. I’m still _furious_ that you didn’t tell me about the magic, and when we’re done with this mission, you have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”
Merlin shivered.
3. Chapter 3
After moving all the unconscious sorcerers to one side of the room for easier extraction, Arthur and Merlin moved quickly around the room, planting the remaining explosives. They worked silently for some time, until Arthur tipped his head thoughtfully, then turned toward Merlin.
“Why do you even _carry a gun_?” he asked. “Can’t you just, I don’t know...shoot people with fireballs or something?”
“Because,” replied Merlin, raising an eyebrow, “a gun is more discreet then a fireball, and _much less likely to get me arrested_?”
“Oh,” said Arthur. “Right. That makes sense.” He looked Merlin up and down, studying him closely, frowning slightly.
“I’m still me, Arthur,” Merlin said gently. “Nothing’s changed. Nothing that _matters_ , anyway.”
“Mm...I suppose you’re right,” said Arthur thoughtfully. He grinned teasingly. “Knowing how clumsy you are, I really have no idea how you kept that from me for so long anyway. Must’ve been sheer dumb luck.”
“Hey!” said Merlin, drawing himself up indignantly. “Say that one more time, and see if I ever use my magic to save your sorry behind again.”
“So you’ve been using your magic behind my back _all this time_?”
“Maybe? Er. A little.” Merlin paused. “Mostly to help us on missions, though. And, uh, to do my laundry.”
Arthur brightened. “Hey, can your magic write my mission reports for me?”
“No. Write your own damn reports.”
Arthur sighed sadly and went back to planting explosives.
***
It was some minutes before Arthur spoke again.
“Can you show me?” he asked abruptly.
“What – oh! Yes, of course,” said Merlin. He stretched out a hand, murmuring a spell, his eyes glowing gold. A small ball of glittering blue light coalesced in his hand, pulsing gently. | 65584ff5284e43a5af9b8db7c88f9945 | ['dc7c3e0acfff42f2a0ea75e7debff190'] | He sighs, reflecting that being in love with his brother is – well, it was never _easy_ to deal with, but it was definitely easier to shove to the back of his mind before this new obsession of Dean’s. Right on the heels of that thought, Dean sails by, EMF meter in hand, and absently smacks Sam’s ass. Again.
Sam bites his lip, hard, and turns around to glare at the back of Dean’s head. His brother, industriously waving the EMF meter around the house they’re investigating, ignores him.
Dean also continues to call Sam ‘babe’. He pops it out randomly when they’re interviewing witnesses, or checking into motels, or in the line at Starbucks. Today, it’s when they’re on a case: Dean, with wide, sincere eyes, asks their primary witness, “could we look around your garden? Sammy here really loves it when I buy him flowers. Roses are his favorite. Right, babe?”
The witness, a sweet little old lady, smiles understandingly at Sam. Sam grits his teeth.
“Uh, right. Sweetheart,” he forces out. Dean grins wickedly at him and pats his knee patronizingly, and the little old lady, thoroughly charmed, gives Sam and Dean permission to explore her garden, where they salt and burn the bones of her little monster of a poodle that’s been haunting the town.
That evening, at dinner, Sam addresses Dean as ‘baby’ when his brother tries to flirt with their waitress, covering Dean’s hand with his on the table. He laughs out loud at Dean’s put-out expression when the waitress instantly goes from giving Dean bedroom eyes to looking at him like he’s a particularly adorable puppy.
He ups it to ‘darling’ when their food arrives, and by dessert, he’s progressed to ‘honeybun’. Dean actually flinches at that last one. Sam grins triumphantly and counts it as a win.
They get mistaken for a couple all the time now, despite – or maybe because of? Sam’s not quite sure – Dean’s smirk whenever he touches Sam’s thigh or grabs Sam’s ass, and Sam’s passive-aggressive endearments for Dean in response. Waitresses in diners giggle at them and sneak them extra dessert. Motel clerks offer them a king, then look surprised when they ask for two queens. On the upside, though, witnesses tend to look at them indulgently and talk to them more easily, too, which is something Sam didn’t actually expect from this clusterfuck but hey, he’ll take whatever makes their job easier.
Just as Sam thinks they’re at an impasse, Dean ups the ante: he starts jerking off in the bathroom while Sam’s in their motel room. Loudly. Theatrically. Sam has begun to exist in a constant state of frustrated arousal.
And, the thing is, being in love with Dean does not preclude being _irritated as hell_ with him.
“Oh – ohh, _yeah,_” Dean groans loud and satisfied from behind the closed bathroom door as Sam’s sitting on his bed with a novel in his hands, and Sam reads the same sentence for the third time in a row. He’s rock-hard in his jeans, and more than a little exasperated. He slams the novel shut, because he’s not even going to _try_ to convince himself that he’s going to get any reading done with Dean making those…_noises_, and considers his options.
When Dean opens the bathroom door and walks out into their motel room, a cloud of steam billowing out around him, it’s to find Sam standing in the middle of the room stark naked, casually clutching a fresh towel in one hand. (Sam’d had to spend the last fifteen minutes fixedly thinking about the most disgusting corpses they’d ever seen on all their hunts to will his persistent hard-on away, but Dean doesn’t need to know that.)
Dean’s eyes widen. His eyes drop to Sam’s cock, and he flushes pink all over. “S-Sam?”
“Oh good, you’re done,” Sam says casually, and brushes past Dean to go into the bathroom, making sure to accidentally-on-purpose rub up against his brother as much as possible in the process. Dean makes a small ‘eep’ sound and quickly backs away, his face getting even redder. Sam triumphantly shuts the bathroom door behind him, turns the water on and settles in for a nice, long hot shower and some much-needed time alone with his right hand.
***
Sam had thought that maybe Dean would let the whole prank war go after this, but quickly discovers that he was sadly mistaken over the course of the next week, when Dean starts jerking off twice as often and occasionally, shutting himself in the bathroom and _moaning Sam’s name_.
On one of the latter occasions, Sam, aroused and infuriated beyond all reason, makes the colossal error of barging into the bathroom to yell at Dean. The yell never makes it out of his throat because he realizes the magnitude of his mistake once he’s inside the bathroom, faced with the sight of Dean standing under the shower with one broad hand braced on the wall and the other gripping his cock, hard and leaking. Dean’s got an expression of deep concentration on his face, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut, water dripping off his ridiculously long lashes. He’s breathtaking, all smooth golden skin and freckles _everywhere_, rivulets of water running over his muscled body, and Sam might actually be _drooling_.
Clearly Sam had not thought this through, had not expected the level of commitment his big brother had dedicated to fucking with Sam’s head, because he hadn’t expected Dean to _actually_ be jerking off in there; at least not while he was yelling Sam’s name.
Dean’s eyes flutter open, and he stares at Sam, mouth open in a little “O” of surprise. He flushes crimson, cock jerking in his hand, and Sam beats a prompt retreat, cheeks burning and guiltily aware that that little scene is now going to serve as his primary jerk-off material for the next twenty years. |
f15c139837a34ce3a68904d2c303417e | ['dcd865285be04d65b680f7d676be7f86'] | "You bet I wouldn't," Alya drawled, pushing his hand away and then grasping the rail tightly again. "Not until I know for sure that he's got nothing to do with this. _Or_ until he spills the beans and admit that he _does_ as I believe it's more probable, and then proves that he can fix it."
She shifted her eyes back to Adrien. "And I don't mean a simple 'I'm sorry', Agreste."
Again, before Adrien could as much as open his mouth, he was cut off by Nino coming to his defence.
"She told you it's not his fault," the latter said with a weary sigh. "I think you should at least consider Marinette's opinion on the subject before you avenge her and hurt someone who's not even the main suspect of the crime, and much against Marinette's will."
"Well, you can believe that crap if you wish, but I'm not buying it," Alya retorted. "It's obvious she was hiding something, given the way she was and since she _did_ mention that the heartless idiot who'd made her so was in fact 'her best friend', the chance that it _had_ to do with the sunshine boy here is more than fat. Even if Marinette claims otherwise."
"Well, that's a nice way of viewing evidence," Adrien managed to break in at last, feeling the anger rise in him once more; he wasn't sure if it was Alya or Marinette (again) he was vexed with, but that he would determine later. "I suppose it doesn't matter what _I_ have got to say about all this, either?"
Alya's eyes narrowed in concentration. "So you do know what I'm talking about."
"I have no idea," he corrected her. "All I know is that you're furious with me for some reason and that it is connected to Marinette and myself in some way, but at the same time, you're clearly not interested in what either of us has to say about the subject. So if you were so kind as to at least tell me what the heck it's all about, that would be wildly appreciated."
He saw the look of astonishment reflect on the countenances of both oh his friends and realised that it was probably the first time when he had ever spoken to them as harshly - and as coldly – as he'd done just now.
Somehow, the sight made him swell with satisfaction.
_Guess it's really not Marinette I'm angry with, after all._
"So?" he picked up, seeing that he was not going to receive an answer without another push on his part. "Are you going to explain why you've assaulted me like that or will we just stay like this until Miss Bustier drags us back to class?"
With an angry huff, Alya surrendered to his wish and let go of the rail, before stepping back. As if sensing the potential danger, Nino wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nodded at Adrien reassuringly.
The other boy smiled and returned the nod, relieved. It was good to know that _someone_ was on his side in all this, whatever it actually was.
Even though he certainly did have an idea as to what might be the issue here.
He simply couldn't let them know that he did.
"Thank you," he said calmly, even though he knew it was nothing but a sham; if he hadn't been relaxed on that rooftop he could hardly be expected to feel serene now? "Now, would you _please_ tell me what's going on in here? Why is Nino talking about 'avenging Marinette' and how is it the reason for you to be angry with me? And first and foremost: where _is_ Marinette?"
Again, he had to wait for their answer, unless he was to count Alya's annoyed yet somehow resigned sigh and Nino's tightened jaw as one. All of the sudden he thought that the matter might be a whole lot more serious, despite the rather childish display he'd just been treated with.
If the last night's event had taken such a great toll on him...
...could Marinette be as affected by it as well?
_No, definitely not as much_ , he tried to convince himself quietly. _Of course she would take some of it too heart, she's not some kind of an unfeeling mutant; she's the opposite of that. Still, our argument can hardly compare to all the things I've had to face and accept since we parted, so surely, it can't be_ _ **that**_ _bad._
Right?
"She's not at school," he was snatched from his meditation when Alya finally decided to share her information with him. "She came in the morning and pretended to be alright, except we all saw that she wasn't. So Miss Bustier sent her back home."
"Just like that?" Adrien asked instantly. "I mean... Your reaction from earlier suggests there was much more to it. Like you two have actually had a chance to talk."
"We did," Alya confirmed. "Or more like, I tried to talk to her while she kept dodging it, feigning good spirits and refusing to answer my questions."
"Have you attacked her in the same way you did me just now? Cause I think that might explain her reluctance."
Alya's glare became murderous again. "Of course I didn't, stupid. I was as discreet as possible and only asked about most basic things. Like you know, why did she had those dark bags under her eyes or why her hands were trembling all the time. Stuff like that."
"Look, dude, I know my girl can be pushy sometimes," Nino supplied readily. "But it was not the case this time. Those inquiries were what we would have asked her on any other day – the difference was in how Marinette responded to them." | 95fd019d8a104d53b0bcdcd73a427e84 | ['dcd865285be04d65b680f7d676be7f86'] | "You asked me not to do it, and I'm _not_. But I don't need to, either. It's written all across your face."
The boy let out a growl. One of his fellow models, who happened to be passing by on that exact moment winced, taken aback. She glanced down at him with an odd look on her countenance.
Adrien wanted to curl up and die.
"Sorry," he mumbled, fixing his eyes on the book in his hands, praying that the girl wouldn't linger around and just moved on with her undoubtedly more interesting life.
Luckily for him, she shrugged and did just that.
Adrien sighed again, and this time it was full of relief. Maybe it was a good thing that the fashion industry was were all kinds of eccentrics gathered.
At least no one paid attention to all the weird things _he_ did.
He shifted his gaze to the textbook once more, determined to actually read the words printed on its pages, no matter how many more disruptions might come in a way. He was _not_ going to look at his phone; he was _not_ going to look around, searching for his bodyguard. And he sure as hell wasn't going to give Plagg the satisfaction of meeting his imploring stare again.
_As if that changed anything._
Yet, he was to be unmoved. Despite the feeling of his kwami's gaze burning on his side as well as the noise said kwami was making (purposefully, no doubt), he didn't even stir, all the more intent on looking unfazed. He moved the book a little closer and pushed his bag under the bench with his foot without as much as peeking at it. He turned the page with the same fake-serene expression reflecting on his face.
He was fine, he was cool. There was no reason why he shouldn't be.
He was -
"I think Marinette is calling you, kid."
He was none of these things.
Several things happened at once then. The textbook Adrien was holding so firmly suddenly fell out of his grasp and landed next to his feet, only to be accidentally kicked away by him when he stood up rapidly and turned towards Plagg with the same violence characterising his moves. His eyes were wide with shock as he stared down at his bag; his hand shook when he reached out for it and took out the phone which, to his surprise, showed no sign of missed calls.
The few messages from Nino - ones he had already expected - were all he could see on the screen.
And yet, his heart was beating fast, his body stiff while he simultaneously felt trembling inside. With his gaze fixed on the phone and blood pumping in his ears, he nearly missed it when Plagg quietly cleared his throat.
Nearly.
Adrien looked at his companion and realised that what he'd been told was a lie, a ploy meant to provoke a reaction on his part. He frowned, annoyed and opened his mouth to scold the kwami for playing tricks on him in this way; yet, Plagg clearly wasn't going to let him beat him to it.
"I think we need to talk, kid," he said with a mixture of gravity and firmness. "And _now_."
Adrien couldn't help but swallow painfully.
He was screwed.
They _didn't_ talk, however, and not due to Adrien's reluctance towards the subject. He was not going to give in to Plagg's suggestion of course (which, considering his deadly glare and infinite power of destruction, was more of a threat, really), not without putting some fight first, anyway; though he also realised that such a fight could not be of much use when his friend was so intent to have that conversation.
The very thought of having it made Adrien dizzy.
He was rescued by the sudden arrival of his bodyguard, who pulled up not a moment after Plagg had uttered the damning sentence. Aware as he was that this barely meant pushing the dreaded talk away for a while, Adrien couldn't help but sigh in relief, silently vowing to repay the Gorilla whenever he got the chance.
Now, however...
"Sweet block of cheese, I thought that ride would never end," Plagg said, once again making sure that his yawn would be heard just as much as the note of boredom that resonated in his voice. "To think that today of all days would be when we got caught in a traffic jam."
"It wasn't that bad," Adrien contradicted him, before glancing at his watch. "We're still earlier than I thought we'd be. Not as early as to make it to the current class... but enough to be left waiting for the next one to start. We've got about twenty minutes until that."
"Oh, now that's _fantastic_. You can finally tell me all the things I need to know without the risk of anyone overhearing."
Adrien set off towards the entrance with a grunt. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."
"And I told you that I didn't care about your whims."
"What about my needs then? And weren't you supposed to be nice and tactful for once?"
"I'm always concerned about your needs, kid," Plagg retorted with renewed seriousness. "Which is precisely why we must talk; preferably _before_ you walk inside and run into someone."
_Before you run into Marinette_ , Adrien's mind readily supplied.
He wanted to bang his head against the door.
"Do we really have to?" he asked weakly, with his hand frozen on the doorknob and his forehead really coming close to resting against the wooden surface. "Will it really change anything?"
"It's not about changing anything, Adrien."
"What _is_ it about, then? What's the point in going back to it, in reliving that horrendous time once again, if it's not going to make things better? Do you really just want to drag me through the mud so I remember how awfully I reacted last night?" |
a53f7c36aae543368a9aff08d4d73945 | ['dcd944c860da415ca495062ef5165af2'] | '-noooope.' Serena clasps a hand over his moving mouth. 'Stop right there, mister. Just shuuut the fuck up for a second before you say something you regret.'
* * *
So the girl-of-his-dreams turned bane-of-his-existence turned girl-he-might-just-have-a-chance with becomes the girl-nowhere-to-be-found in his junior year. He passes 'Rebels and Revolutions of 21st Century' with a B and somehow manages to get elected as secretary of The Eye. In part, Nick's glad it's not the VP spot. But Fred, now the President, ignores protocol and treats him like he is, much to the _actual_ VP's chagrin.
Nick gets a summer job at the DMV and honestly, he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but Tesla offers him an early grad internship under strict conditions of him gaining some real-life work experience before he steps into their warehouse. It's the closest form of work he can get in the industry without having to move to San Francisco or Germany.
Then he leaves his dorm for a low-rise apartment on West 28th, to be closer to work and as far away as possible from Glen.
Glen, however, finally manages to project _some_ human emotion as he watches Nick take the last of the furniture out. He hands Nick the missing hoodie as a parting gift and says a few words of farewell.
'Good times.'
It's one of the very few times Nick hears the boy speak.
When he tries on the hoodie in his new flat, it's much too small for him.
With his last elective out of the way, Nick's classes are here-forth solely physics based, with no room for politics, business or arts. Although, being good and interested in what he does, means his workload is much easier to handle now that all his subjects are interconnected and free of female distractions.
There is one girl in his DEs and Vector Calculus for Engineers class but she mainly keeps to herself when not one-upping every other male in the tutorials.
Serena Joy leaves on a year abroad program to Oman, interning for Sultan Qaboos under the guise of research for her "Approaches to the Arab-Israeli Conflict" thesis, but is secretly studying the absolute patriarchal monarchy. No doubt hoping to have Fred implement most of her learnings when he runs for Office.
This leaves Nick with only Warren to spend time with during the coming months. Warren is on-again with Janine, bulking for draft season and constantly loiters around the apartment. He says the dorms are just not the same without Nick, or Fred or even Serena barging into his room at any given moment.
After a particularly bad Monday at work, Nick asks Warren for some privacy. He wants some peace and quiet. Warren doesn't look away from the TV playing reruns of last year's games and shoves more corn chips into his mouth.
'You gotta stop being sad bro, what do you have to be so sad about? Look around you, look at life.'
When Nick looks around him he sees boxes still begging to be unpacked and a kitchen with no real food.
When he looks at his life, he wants to cry.
.
Not that Nick's been counting, but in the six months since he's last seen June Osbourne giggling into Luke's warm, manly arms, he had begun aggressively thrusting himself into the New York dating pool. Tinder was full of girls wanting to get straight to business, which seemed like a nice gesture at first but began to lose its novelty after a while. The jazz bars downtown were full of literature majors who wanted _nothing_ to do with men that weren't going to fund their over-the-top indulgent Instagram lifestyles. Then he dates girls from the science faculty, who pay no attention to the rumours of him being a cuck and are _logical_ , _mathematical_ and to a certain degree: _interested_ in _him_ and not interested in the asshole architect Lucas Bankoles of the world.
He dates a Nicole for a month, then a Kate for two after that. But none of their glossy brunette waves or surgically shaped teeth hold his interest. They call him callous and unemotional and then he realises that they're _psychology_ majors. Which isn't a real science at all.
So, he continues to throw himself into an aggressive cycle of work, study, secretarial duties, parties, building carbon powered washing machines in Thermodynamics, and more parties. In fact, Nick's 'no-compromise' rule has him partying so much so that the picture of him hung up on the club lounge is replaced by a different picture of him urinating on the Chancellor's Bentley.
With a headache, bare feet, and a half-empty bottle of pressed kale juice, Nick walks up the stairs to his flat. Longing for a cold shower and hungry for the leftover lasagne from yesterday's lunch. Just as he's about to close his door, he hears a small squeal. It's a yellow Burmese about to be squished by his door. He picks up the feline and it licks Nick's two-day stubble in adoration.
'Hello, Hannah.' He reads the silver tag around its neck, the cat meows back before jumping out of his arms and walking up the stairs of the building. It looks back and waits for Nick when he doesn't follow.
'You want me to come up?' He isn't sure why he's speaking to the cat in human English but it seems to be working. He follows the pet up two flights of stairs to the apartment right above his. 'Is this where you live?' He knocks on the slightly open door and waits for a reception but there is no acknowledgment from inside. Nick picks up Hannah and walks in slowly. | fdce62530b83425798ad9bea9dd9fded | ['dcd944c860da415ca495062ef5165af2'] |
got a crush on you
**Author's Note:**
> something light to add to the fandom. I love Nick, the poor pathetic idiot who just wants to be left alone to watch compilation videos of soldiers returning from tour and surprising their dogs.
_**It's cool, not tryin to put a rush on you** _
_**I had to let you know that I got a crush on you** _
.
He'd rather be in his room playing the new Overwatch with Warren than finding Serena's shopping list of books from the library.
'I'm swamped with this campaign, Nick. I just need this one favour!'
Nick drags his flannel pajamas up over his "Sunday" shorts and pulls on a faded blue hoodie which read "Kiss me I'm a communist" across the front. He's pretty sure it's Glen's. He doesn't bother with shoes instead slips his socked feet into sandals and makes his way down to Butler Library, a-la Mark Zuckerberg.
"The Christian Imagination", "So you're thinking of Immaculate conception?", "How to start a #fam." Jesus Serena, what the fuck. Nick looks at the incredible list of theology texts and quietly bites into his fist. He did not get up from the warmth of his bed on a Sunday for this.
It's common knowledge around campus that; promise ring bearing, student council leader and potential Summa Cum Laude, Serena Joy; was a straight-laced, chastity belt wearing, Quaker. When she's not enthusiastically handing out white shiny brochures claiming, "the end is nigh!" down the university mall, Serena Joy could most certainly be found in the tranquil gardens of Avery Plaza in a prayer circle amongst Columbian members of the megachurch 'Gilead for all'– a cult – in his opinion.
'It all works out really. I'm a Theology major. Which means when I'm praying, I'm studying and when I'm not praying, I'm studying.'
'And your Law major?' Nick asks as he gorges on his Chow Mein.
'I have plans for a total policy overhaul. For a more biologically focused future.' She looks him dead in the eyes. Nick's chopsticks stop mid-way to his mouth and a moment of silence passes between them.
He snorts.
They'd become quite great acquaintances since his first day at college. She had volunteered to tour a batch of freshman around campus and taken a liking to the mysterious, bushy-browed, boy from Michigan. He took one look at her "Jesus take the wheel" pin and groaned inwardly. He always attracted the weird types.
What he _was_ attracted to were the flirty, feminist types. Blondes with too many admirers and lesbian roommates.
_June Osbourne._
He was attracted to June Osbourne.
The girl-of-his-dreams, who was walking into the library with her steaming cup of matcha. Her hair brilliantly curled and fluffy in the afternoon light. He doesn't even berate himself for noticing these things. He's been in love with the gender studies minor for about four months now since they first shared an uber down to Lafayette one Friday night. Sure there was her friend Emily in between them and June had not even noticed he was in the car, but _they shared an uber okay? :) :):):):)_
He pretends to reach out for "The Lord and Legumes, A Vatican approved guide for Celiacs" as she passes by and realises he should have worn proper shoes or at least brushed his teeth today.
* * *
She's almost never there for the 11 am Tuesday lectures, but Nick counts on her attendance at their 'Rebels and Revolutions of 21st Century' tutorial later in the afternoon.
It's a far cry from his usual Mechanical Engineering units, but it's his last elective. The hour goes by quick enough. With almost every eyeliner wearing, bisexual Bernie Bro in the class declaring their opinions at every opportune moment and Professor Lydia at the helm of it all. He does nothing but day-dream to the soft scent of Jasmine and Vetiver that lingers to him from the back of the room where June and Moira and their group of pro-choice, new age cheerleaders discuss Benazir Bhutto's legacy.
'Stop being a creep, go talk to her.' Warren says, not looking up from the heavy textbook written completely in Latin.
'Who?'
'Osbourne. We know about you following her into the girls' bathroom.'
'How do you kno- I mean, that's not true.' Nick defends.
Look, he didn't do it _on purpose._ June had been talking animatedly with Moira after class one day and he'd been following them at a distance. It was only when she walked into a cubicle, and he found himself surrounded by a _very_ bitchy conglomerate of girls, he realised where he was.
Warren knows otherwise but drops the conversation as Professor Lydia sends them a spine-chilling glare.
* * *
After a week of constant back and forth from Butler to her dorm, Nick puts his foot down.
'Nick, just one more favour. Please. I'm running out of time!'
'You said that last time Serena.' Nick exclaims lazily. He had arrived half an hour ago and moulded himself perfectly onto the velvet beanbag in the corner of her room. Which happened to have the most brilliant view of New York. 'I'm sure one your lackeys would be happy to volunteer. What about that one guy who's always following you around.' He jokes about Serena's boyfriend. 'Dark hair, beady eyes. SPINELESS.'
'He's not –'
'-Fran, Fabio-.' Serena throws a cupcake shaped pillow at his head.
'- _Out!_ '
His midterms go off without a hitch. He politely refuses his brother and sister-in-law's invitation to join them at their new ranch in Montana. Instead, he plans to spend all weekend drinking his sorrows at the jazz club downtown.
None of this comes to fruition as Warren and the rest of the Eye place a bag over his head and drive an army of Jeeps upstate to Newport. |
4301862fad904dab8a50fa0f17b751ce | ['dce62a43e4fd4823bc590f220e58eb27'] |
Unknown Fate
**Author's Note:**
> AN//: Hello, this is my first time writing a miraculous ladybug fanfic, I am aware that Alya doesn't know Marinette is Ladybug but in my fic, I think it would be helpful for her to know, I am debating whether to have Nino know Adriens secret, Anyway, I hope you like it.
It was a cloudy day, the sun hid behind the grey clouds as they threatened to rain, Marinette clutched to her backpack walking to school with her best friend, Alya.
"Today's the day, I'm going to tell Adrien how I feel, no more running away!" She chimes to herself and also her best friend next to her.
"I'm rooting for you girl, but...Are you going to tell him who you really are?" Alya asks.
"I dunno...What if he decides he likes that version of me instead of who I really am...I love being ladybug but I can't always be a hero." Marinette replies setting foot on the school campus.
"Mar, You're wonderful either way and I'm sure Adrien will see that, he isn't shallow like Chloe...Nino has gotten Adrien to agree to a hangout after school, We'll find an excuse to leave you two alone so you can tell him." Alya says with a smile and clean her fogging glasses.
"You're the best!" Marinette chimes hugging Alya and then they part ways.
After Nino and Adrien part ways, Adrien leaves his locker getting his books sitting in class, Plagg floats out.
"Plagg, it's risky to be out in such a public place...Go back to hiding before someone sees you." Adrien says looking around and keeping his eyes on the door making sure no one enters the room.
"I'm hungry..." Plagg complains.
Adrien sighs and feeds Plagg his usual, he stares as Plagg munched on it like a pig.
"Much appreciated, Adrien! So you excited about hanging out with friends tonight?" Plagg asks.
"Yeah, I enjoy Nino, Alya and Marinette's company....I'm nervous, I'm planning to tell Ladybug how I feel." Adrien confesses.
"I believe in you, champ." Plagg replies.
Adrien hears footsteps and hurries Plagg into his jacket, he goes to read.
Marinette walks into the classroom seeing it was almost empty, her heart skipped a beat seeing the blonde haired male sitting and reading causing her to drop her books.
Adrien looks up and smile, he gets up and walk to her picking up her books giving them to her, their fingers brush causing Marinette to blush brightly.
"T-Thank you, Adrien. F-Fancy meeting you here." She says flustered.
Adrien chuckles softly. "Umm we have this class everyday together." He reminds her.
"O-oh of course...." Marinette responds.
"You're welcome by the way." Adrien says returning to his seat.
Marinette takes her seat in front of him, taking out her notes, shivers run down her spine as she feels a hand tap her shoulder, she looks behind to see Adrien.
"I can't wait to hangout with you after school, Mar....Maybe we can have a round of that video game, I'll kick your ass this time." He says.
Marinette was shocked he striked up a conversation, it was rare for them to talk, Chloe always got in the way and or he was always with Nino and she was with Alya.
"I-I can't wait either and....You're so on Adrien but I believe it is I that will be kicking your ass." Marinette replies.
After class, The four met up together walking to the park, they each got a ice cream cone.
Nino made up some excuse of the school needing his help and Alya made the excuse of having to work on her blog, they both scurried off leaving Adrien and Marinette.
"That was strange..." Adrien says staring in the direction the pair went off to.
"Y-Yeah, it was....Now it's just us." She replies tossing the rest of the ice cream, her stomach curled nervously.
"Great, Now we can go play." Adrien responds with a grin.
"P-Play?!" She questions confused.
"Silly Mar, The video game...I've been dying to play against you." He says pulling her along to the mall.
Marinette followed blushing madly, she pulls him back.
"W-wait before we do that I need to tell you something...." Marinette starts.
His green eyes meet her blue ones as he smiles, Marinette flushed nervous resting her hands in front of her holding them.
"What is it, I'm all ears." Adrien responds.
"I-I-I....." Marinette hesitates.
Adrien stares at the nervous Marinette as she goes quiet.
"Adrien!!" A high pitched sound of a girl could be heard.
Adrien groans lowly, no one could hear him. He dawns a bright smile.
"Hey Chloe." Adrien greets.
Marinette growls to herself, she prayed that she'd leave but it was Chloe...She wasn't going anywhere soon.
"Hi Adrien, Check out the stuff I bought, new clothes, shoes... I even bought you a fetching tie!" Chloé chimes she was about to dig everything out until Adrien rest his hand on hers.
"Chloé, Please I'm busy with Marinette...We will talk later." He says.
"B-but Adrien....." Chloé whines.
Marinette sighs, she didn't want Chloé to strike up a scene in the mall.
"It's okay Adrien, we will play some other time." Marinette says with a small smile.
"No, Marinette you're staying..." Adrien says firmly.
"Marinette is perfectly fine with leaving us to be together, don't pressure her, Adrien." Chloé tries to protest.
Marinette looks at the TV behind Chloé and hears of an attack causing her attention to change..
"I just remembered that I needed to help my mom and dad, raincheck." Marinette says quickly and dart off.
Adriens attention was on the TV now as Chloe goes to hug him.
"Uhhh sorry Chloé, Feeling sick...Another time!" He darts off leaving Chloé alone in the mall angry. | 4a198c0fccc042cab1765af4c9ec7260 | ['dce62a43e4fd4823bc590f220e58eb27'] |
A Devil's Prey
Sora, The young male sat in front of the computer as the screen was staring at him bright, his head in his hands, strains of chocolate locks peeking out of his fingers as he waited for any kind of life to jump at him, by that he wanted to chat with someone . A typical boring Saturday night for the teen.
Sora's mother, Aerith worked at her flower business while his step-dad, Sephiroth Crescent worked in his study for the longest time, You're probably wondering what happened to father, well he was killed in a war by a company called Shinra, Zack was shot with tons of bullets before he was even born, but mother always says he died a hero, From the pictures and stories, Sora believed in every word.
How did Aerith end up with Sephiroth, Well the silver haired male was persuasive and he reminded her that she couldn't take care of Sora on her own, preying on her as she mourned for Zack because of his sick obsession of the flower girl. And so they remained with Sephiroth, Sora liked him when he was younger but the young grow, he was now fifteen and he loathed the man.
Sora snapped out of his thoughts as his Samsung rang with a particular ringtone Dance with the Devil by Breaking Benjamin, his blue eyes met his cell screen and the picture of a male about 21 years old, Spiky wildfire dark red hair, emerald eyes under them were purple tear drop like tattoos, The name Axel was spread across the screen, he slides the answer button and holds the phone to his ear.
"Hey Axel, I don't know why he isn't picking up his phone but Roxas isn't at my house." Sora says.
Axel chuckled on the other line. "Oh Sora, I'm not looking for Roxas, I already know he's probably fucking Xion...I want to talk to you." He says.
"Oh...W-Wait you want to talk to me?" Sora asked shocked.
A year ago, Roxas and Riku had gotten Sora to step away from studying and dragged him to a party, Riku went for drinks and Sora stood around looking around as Roxas chatted with a dark haired girl, Xion. Roxas motioned over a tall man with wildfire hair and emerald eyes, he'd introduced Axel his best friend to Sora. Axel made sure to actually say his name, Well more spell it out A-X-E-L Got it memorized, he said. It made Sora giggle. Roxas left them to chat, in which the pair chatted for a very long time until a guy with long blue hair with a x scar on his face had asked Axel to get more chips but he didn't leave without exchanging numbers and so they'd become mutual friends through Roxas.
"Yeah, We are friends aren't we?" Axel asks into the phone.
"Y-Yeah of course Axel, Sorry I've just been staring at my computer screen so I wasn't expecting a phone call." Sora replies, he was a little nervous, they've talked through text, talked a little bit but not much when they hung out with the group but it's rarely just been the two.
"Damn your bored, Me too...I've just been staring at the wall...Hey how about we hangout at the park?" Axel suggests.
"Sure." Sora replies. "What time?"
"Now." Axel answers.
"Okay, See you soon." Sora responds hanging up.
Sora got rid of his pajamas and put on a blue tank top, black skinny jeans with black and white converses, he ran down the stairs and grabbed his black hoodie and race out the door, he didn't care to tell Sephiroth where he was going but he'd definitely send his mother a text.
Once Sora set foot on the grass of the park, he saw the red head his usual red locks ran down to his upper back, his emeralds glowed within the moonlight, he wore a black v-neck shirt, a leather jacket, black skinny jeans with a belt and some boots, his usual cigarette in his mouth, he stood by the climbing bars.
His gaze met Sora's and blew smoke. "Finally, Here I thought you would stand me up." Axel spoke.
"S-Sorry I took so long, I was in my pajamas and I had to take the bus here." Sora says with a small smile walking up to him.
"You should've sent me a picture, I bet you got cute pajamas." Axel says dropping the cigarette onto the ground and step on it, he walks off.
Sora looks at his back, his cheeks grew a light pink he hadn't expected that to come out of the red heads mouth.
"Sora, Keep up....It's dark and dangerous, I'd hate to lose you." Axel says not hearing footsteps behind him.
Sora scurries to catch up to the red head, they walked along the river side and finally took a seat on the grass by the lake.
"You know I've risked a lot being out here tonight, I'm suppose to be grounded." Axel says.
"Y-You are why, I-I mean...God I'm sorry I don't want to get you into more trouble!" Sora chimes worriedly.
Axel chuckles. "Remember I'm the one who asked you here...I got into a bar fight, went to jail and my father had to bail me out, he ordered me to stay home and suffer grounding..."
"Why would you risk getting into more trouble for me, I mean wouldn't you rather save the risks for Roxas?" Sora asks curiously.
"Why would you say that?" Axel asks.
"Well don't you like him more than a friend?" Sora replies.
Axel chuckles as he puts out his fifth cigarette, Sora looked at him confused.
"What?" Sora asks.
"Who did you hear that from?" Axel questions.
"Demyx." He answers shortly.
"Oh of course...Demyx, Loves to talk. " Axel gets up and dusts himself off.
Sora looked worriedly, he hoped he didn't piss off the red head, he was more of a lover than a fighter, he gets up dusting off as well.
"I'm S-Sorry I didn't mean too..." Sora says apologizing quickly.
Axel leans in closer, his mouth close to Sora's ear, his hot breath trailing down Sora neck, It caused Sora to blush.
"You shouldn't listen to everything you hear, Sora..." Axel whispers.
Sora gazed at Axel, being so close made Sora's stomach flutter with butterflies, As Axel stared back at Sora, Sora couldn't read him so it made him wonder, what was the red heads intentions. |
72543f552ce94b3fa544c95e2fe114ab | ['dcee10f0390c4c0ab28648feb1071149'] | Lance didn't answer, he just smirked. So far, Keith had been able to deduce they weren't going to see a movie and they weren't going out to eat - yet. Lance also assured Keith that they weren't going anywhere lame, but Keith didn't know if he could trust him.
"How are you at bowling?" Lance asked cheekily. Nearly all the blood in Keith's face left. He was absolute _trash_.
"Amazing," Keith lied, trying to put as much inflection into his voice to come off as intimidating.
Lance laughed, "alright, I doubt you're any better than me because I'm _amazing_ , but when I beat your ass, don't start crying Mr. 'Amazing'."
Keith could already feel himself dying.
Once they got to the bowling alley, got their stuff, and got to their lane, Keith was worried he was going to throw up. He couldn't really figure out if it was because he was nervous, or because the smell of cheap beer was nauseating. It was probably a combination of both.
"You good, mullet?" the grin on Lance's face made Keith want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
"Peachy, pretty boy."
Seriously? He called him pretty boy _again_?
The comment shut Lance's up though and he lined up and took a shot. He hit all the pins but one. Keith was going to get murdered, and he couldn't let that happen. He would not be ashamed.
He got a gutter ball his first throw and Lance was hollering.
"Do you need me to put the bumpers up Keithy?!" he cooed sarcastically in between fits of laughter. Keith was boiling with a mix of grade a embarrassment and anger.
His next few shots weren't that great either and Lance actually did get bumpers put up so Keith wouldn't have any more gutter balls. "It's no fun if you're not having fun. Also, when I win it won't feel as good knowing you never even had a chance."
Keith swore after that comment that he was going to at least even up the score, maybe he wouldn't win the game, but he'd tighten Lance's win for sure. And he knew just the way to do it.
As Lance was getting ready to release the ball, Keith yelled as loud as possible, "COME ON BABE!" Lance only hit one of the pins. Prancing up for his turn, Keith tried to ignore a very dumb (but cute) looking Lance.
"If you keep your mouth open like that you're gonna swallow a fly."
Lance's mouth still didn't close.
That's how it went for a while until Lance noticed how Keith was starting to catch up and he himself started cheating. They were loud and boisterous, and as time went on Keith found it easier and easier to breathe. He wasn't over thinking anymore, their banter developed naturally and neither one of them had to try. By the time their game ended, it had only been about thirty minutes (it should have taken them less time but with their toying with each other and whatnot).
"Pizza?" Lance offered and Keith nodded.
The pizza was cheap and Keith was fully prepared for it to be the nastiest thing he'd ever tasted. It was greasy and should've been nasty but for some reason, it wasn't. The sauce was good, the crust was crunchy, and there was plenty of cheese.
"So, mullet-"
"Do you have some weird fixation on my hair?"
Lance blinked. "It's a _mullet_."
"Yeah? So?"
"You mean you actually like it?"
"If I didn't like it, why would I have one?"
He laughed, it was quieter than his other laughs, but it was still just as light and bouncy. It made Keith's chest hurt.
"At least you take care of it. Like at least it's not all greasy n'shit."
"You're disgusting," noted Keith as he watched Lance fumble about for the cheese falling off of his pizza.
"But you think I'm pretty."
Keith's face was hot and Lance smirked. Keith wanted to avert his eyes but he couldn't take his eyes off the fucker.
"T-that's not true..." Keith honestly shouldn't have bothered trying to deny it. He'd called Lance 'pretty boy' three times now.
"Mhmm. Obviously, you thought I was pretty. Why else would you have asked Shiro to have me cover his shift?"
Keith's entire body went stiff. It wasn't exactly true, see Keith never asked Shiro to help him out. Still, Shiro had told him that Lance would be covering for him that evening. Keith had just merely taken the opportunity.
"Are you stalking me?" Lance's voice was laced with something Keith could only describe as seduction. There was no other way to put it.
"Actually, I didn't ask Shiro to have you cover his shift," Keith explained as he tried to regain some of his composure. Lance was visibly disappointed and Keith let him think on that for a bit before adding, "however, he did tell me you'd be covering for him."
"So you _are_ stalking me?" Lance had abandoned his food in favor of leaning forward against the table, eyes focused on what Keith guessed were kiss lips.
At least he was confident.
"I'm sure someone like you has plenty of stalkers," Keith answered, letting his voice drop an octave as he leaned in as well.
In their close proximity, Keith noticed just how long Lance's eyelashes were. He noticed light freckles splattered across his nose. Everything about Lance was stunning, intoxicating. Keith was having a hard time thinking.
Their first kiss happened in an old, run-down bowling alley. They were sat in a booth in a corner where few people sat leaning across the table as their lips pressed together gently. The kiss wasn't passionate, but there was a spark there that Keith hoped Lance felt too.
"Does this prove that I'm the better flirt?" Lance asked once their lips had parted.
"What makes you think that?"
"I was able to seduce you on the first date."
Keith snorted, "I don't think it's that hard to seduce your stalker."
"Oh give it up, mullet."
Their second kiss happened there too.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I probably won't write anything else for this fic. It was just a drabble that I added onto cause I needed to get it out of my system.
**Author's Note:**
> I should have the next chapter up within the week. I'm just polishing up drabbles and stuff as I work on this big fanfic.
>
> My tumblr-- thelunarladybug | 6fb7c484f27f497f91920b0ec5f5db42 | ['dcee10f0390c4c0ab28648feb1071149'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This was originally a school assignment but I swapped out the names and made it an ML fanfic (mostly so Aarica could enjoy it, you're welcome love).
>
> Sorry about all the slang, it's all from the 20's, we had to incorporate all of that into our assignment so you might be seriously confused. EDIT (2018): I've gone ahead and added a glossary chapter! Open that up in separate tab if you need reference!
Alya was a bearcat; Marinette knew that much by now. She was a bit of a bird, but despite her rather eccentric personality, men still flocked to gain her favor. Marinette wasn’t nearly as airtight as Alya was, nor was she an egg, but she could never despise her friend like some did. Alya was certainly a character, but she was the kind of person who was always smiling. Her energy was boundless. More often than not, Marinette found herself wishing she were more like her: confident in her own skin.
The two friends had met on a rather sunny afternoon a month prior. Marinette had been donned in her glad rags and was minding her own business when a drugstore cowboy had begun catcalling her. His ministrations started off kindly; calling her baby, the bee’s knees, the same thing any big timer would say in order to woo his prey. After Marinette had repeatedly turned down his offers, he’d gotten himself up in a lather. He started to call her nasty things like a bluenose or a bug-eyed Betty, but still, Marinette minded her temper. Alya, however, overheard the man’s jeers and told him to go chase himself. Of course, the man had just laughed, but after she continued to assail him verbally, he rolled his eyes and lumbered off.
Obviously getting a girl wasn’t worth so much trouble.
Perhaps that’s why Marinette had let Alya doll her up in a tight dress that accentuated her chassis a little too well. Marinette trusted the woman implicitly and figured that if she went out with Alya, maybe she could conquer some of her fears. Normally, Marinette would never picture herself in a blow like this. She would much rather stay at home and fill some more pages in her sketchbook, but here she was, looking like the billboards she typically avoided.
As soon as the two girls entered the rather posh looking building, Marinette began to feel queasy. She knew she was a canceled check in a room full of chin music and cuddlers. There was no place for a crasher such as herself.
“Don’t take any wooden nickels, alright?” Alya edisoned as she drifted away from Marinette and towards an average looking Charlie. Marinette just nodded to herself, hoping her friend would make use of those pockets she sewed into her dress so she could keep all her things on her person.
Marinette had debated upon adding pockets to what she was wearing as well; too often a lady didn’t have a place to put her things and she had to depend on a man, but she knew that adding in pockets would ruin the dress’s look completely. So she’d opted to not bring much with her, aside from a shawl to keep the chill of the night air at bay. If she needed anything, she could always find Alya, or maybe a kind stranger.
Marinette wasn’t holding out any hope for the latter.
“What are you doing all by yourself there, bugaboo?”
The man who addressed her held a dead soldier in his hand and wore a sly smirk on his face. The getup he wore was sleek, and his hair was slicked back in the typical bimbo style. There was a familiarity about him that Marinette couldn’t place, but she did know one thing about this man: he was the type of man to make girls go goofy. Marinette wasn’t too keen on letting him get too close so she elected to ignore him. Terrible mistake.
“Rhatz! I hoped a lady like you would be willing to a regular fella like me the time of day.”
Marinette rolled her eyes and continued to ignore him. She crossed her arms and angled herself away from him. That still didn’t get the message across. He was too persistent and Marinette found herself laughing at the man’s advances rather than shying away. He seemed different than the man who’d called after her last month, in fact, he seemed more prune pit then he was acting.
“Butt me,” Marinette said, catching his eye for only a moment. The way his face lit up made her heart do things she wasn’t comfortable with.
The man abandoned his hooch and pulled out a ciggy, lit it up, and handed it to her. She took a puff, a plume of smoke swirling around her, and immediately started coughing.
His smile widened and he laughed loudly. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at herself too.
“What’s eating you?” Marinette challenged, a bit more flirtatiously than she thought she could manage.
This man wasn’t one to beat one’s gums, yet when he asked her to dance with him, she found herself unable to believe her desire to say yes. Men had taken interest in her before, but she’d never felt the need to reciprocate said interest. Not until now.
He held his hand out towards her like a gentleman should and Marinette grew skeptical. Usually, she was able to tell the cake-eaters apart from all the others, but this man was different in every way. She wasn’t a trusting person, and this was completely out of line for her.
But she took his hand, her mind gone to complete blooey. |
8abdee38e54a40e3b856ca061170359b | ['dd32bcf1899a4effb67e7d2cccd82b47'] | The fog finally started to clear and Kyo was the first he managed to make our in the haze. Yuki's laughter quickly died down at the look of pure terror on his face. Wow he was really taking this joke to the next level…at least, he hoped that's what that look was all about. Kyo seemed taller from this view for some reason. Yuki must have fallen to his knees when the appeared or something.
Momiji's face came next, then Tohru's and Haru's. All matching Kyo's frightened expression.
Yuki's face fell. "Hey guys…what's going on?" He tried a weak chuckle. "Do I have something on my face?" He asked, lifting a hand to his face in emphasis and touching his cheek. He blinked hard at the odd texture. His face felt…furry? Okay, this _had_ to be some sort of joke.
He slowly lifted his gaze to Tohru again, who was the closest to him and suddenly _huge,_ finally noticing that she had tears glistening in her eyes. Yuki had definitely missed something again.
"T-Tohru-chan?" he asked, concerned. "What's wrong?" They were all starting to scare him with their silences. His glance flitted over her shoulder to Kyo, who had turned his head away from him, jaw set angrily. What the hell was going on?
Tohru bent her head forward and her face was even closer to his own now, her tears barely contained in her pained blue eyes as he shook within the confines of her hands.
…Wait a fucking second.
Yuki looked down then, eyes growing wider and wider as his horror slowly grew. He was sitting in Tohru's hands. Literally _in_ them like he was some, some child's toy! Further inspection showed him how exactly that was possible.
"Oh my god." Yuki breathed, shaking his head slowly. He was covered in lilac colored fur…apparently from head to toe from what he could feel. He clenched and unclenched his 'fists' bringing them up to find pink, lightly clawed fucking _paws_ in place of his hands. Oh no. Oh god oh no oh _fuck!_
"Yuki…"Haru broke in, voice tight. " Hey, man…"
"What…what the fuck?" Yuki's hands, _paws_ were starting to shake now.
"Listen.." Haru tried again tentatively but Yuki wasn't having any of it.
"What the FUCK happened?" He screamed, breath coming out in short, angry bursts. It was all he could do to not just bust down and cry. "I'm a RAT! A fucking purple RAT!"
Tohru's tears were flowing freely down her face at Yuki's obvious pain. She held him lightly in her palms, bringing his tiny body up to her chest and cradling him there as she tried to soothe his growing hysterics.
"Oh Yuki-kun. Please don't worry. It'll go away very soon, I promise." She whispered, lightly stroking his fur. He clung to her desperately willing his racing heart to stop. Yuki could sit in the hollow of her neck and shoulder and was scared senseless at the revelation. He didn't want to be angry at them. There was no way any of this was their fault. None of them had the power to do…something like this. He would have known, right?
"How-How do you know?" He winced when he found his voice wet with tears. He turned his gaze to Kyo again, wishing he'd look at him without terror or anger. "K-Kyo?"
Tohru closed her mouth as she went to answer and swung her head to look at the red head who closed his eyes for a brief moment before finally looking Yuki in the eye. His gaze looked pained as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
"We weren't going to tell you yet." He muttered with a ragged sigh.
Yuki was confused. "Tell me what? That I was some kind of freak that turned into a rat?"
"Yes. No." He growled in frustration. " Look it's not…we. _Goddamit._ "
"Kyo, for fuck's sake, _what?_ " Yuki pleaded.
Kyo's jaw clenched again. "It's our curse." He explained in his oh so brilliant fashion.
"Our family's, I mean." He tried again at Yuki's narrowed amethyst eyes. Even as a rat he could shoot a death glare with the best of them. "If we touch chests with someone of the opposite gender, we each turn into a different member of the zodiac." Yeah. That sounded so much better. Fucker was a _rat_ and he still probably thought Kyo had lost his mind.
Yuki blinked twice, furry face a blank slate before telling Kyo exactly that.
"You. Are fucking. Insane."
In his own words of course.
Kyo groaned loudly wanting nothing more then to bash his head into the wall till _he_ lost his memory.
_We are so, so fucked._
11. Chapter 11
Yuki hadn't come out of his room for hours and they were very concerned about him. But also selfishly relieved that they did not have to talk to him about it anymore just yet.. He had changed back, of course, and after much yelling and pacing frantically he had finally retreated to the safety of his bedroom.
Kyo had been surprisingly patient and calm as he tried to explain what had happened while Shigure filled in anything that had the Cat's tongue tied up in knots. Kyo hadn’t started screaming, luckily, but Yuki on the other hand couldn’t seem to stop. Shigure chose to omit most of the information pertaining to Akito, but only because they thought that under the circumstances it was
simply too much for him right now. No need to dump the utter hopelessness of that situation on the poor kid as well. | 99ccb7b9906942a381cb20c09601b90e | ['dd32bcf1899a4effb67e7d2cccd82b47'] | But Crowley did want. Six thousand years of friendship, with a blissful 368 days of more and Crowley still ached for the angel he slept next to each night; in their new home, in their new bed. Theirs. Together. Each new barrier they crossed only left Crowley with this incessant _need_. He wanted to bury himself into Aziraphale, meld their atoms together and live without a single iota of space between their souls until everything really did end and they started all over again.
In exchange for his reckless devotion, Crowley’s thrice-blessed human body had decided that it could only communicate that desire in the form of wanting Aziraphale in the er, biblical sense.
Now he was just really, _really _pent up and unsure of how to broach the subject with his angel. They didn’t require sex. Just like they didn’t require food and wine and air, but there were times when it certainly felt like they did and this was _definitely_ one of those times.
Crowley had never felt actual, brutal lust before, and couldn’t decide if it was because the feelings were focused on an angel or just because it was Aziraphale. Either way, he hasn’t even caught a good glimpse of Aziraphale’s forearms since Rome and really, that’s — that’s a _shame._
Which found him in his current pathetic predicament while watching Aziraphale tidy up the new library. South Downs had been the last place Crowley figured he would have ended up, but now that they were there, his garden growing in perfect, sufficiently terrified rows and Aziraphale humming in the kitchen, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
Crowley could watch him now, without needing to ready an excuse in the event that he was caught. Could wrap his arms around the angel’s waist if he so desired, press kisses to the highs of his cheeks and drink in the laughter that poured forth from him so readily these days. It was an indulgence; sweet and lovely and probably bad for him in excess but Crowley didn’t bother to care. He sated the desire often, a stupid smile creeping onto his face more often than he’d like to admit. But there was little for it; he'd been helplessly in love with the bastard quite literally since time began.
The demon watched because at times it was all he could allow himself to do, knowing that any stray breath, any movement in the angel's direction could destroy them forever. Even now, he paused. Old instincts warring against new knowledge that they were fine, they were safe. Nobody bothered with them anymore.
It still took some self-convincing, even on good days.
He looked on as Aziraphale fluttered about his new space, stopping to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up to give his elbows room to move freely. Crowley’s eyes covetously tracked the lines of his fingers, the curves of his wrists. Sure enough, the angel knew he could miracle the dust or grime away from his sleeves, but Crowley supposed there was something refreshing about the lack of constriction.
Aziraphale’s human limbs held a lovely plumpness just there in the thick of his arms, but also a strength that was more than angelic in nature. A strength born from carrying large boxes of text into the shop to find them a proper home, insisting on doing it the human way because it was the _work that made it worthwhile_. So they arranged and rearranged entire spaces, furniture and all, to accommodate the organization only Aziraphale and, by extension, Crowley could understand.
Crowley had been attempting to keep busy, though it was rather easy with the new garden to tend to; but as he’d come back inside to check on the library’s progress he’d stopped short in the doorway at the first flash of skin, instantly entranced by the deceptive softness of it. The purity of its texture and color. His mind was suddenly overtaken by a strong wondering as to what it would be like to sink his teeth into it, just there, at the pulse. Just hard enough to feel it jump against his tongue.
Now he understood what it meant to crave something.
There he had remained, staring like a complete daft idiot at the angel while he fussed about. He doesn't realize he’s been caught until Aziraphale is in his space and he blinks himself back from the depths of his fantasies with a hard shake and a slightly forced smirk to make up for it.
“Settling in alright, angel?” He asks, hoping to hide the tremor in his voice caused by the blue burn of Aziraphale’s gaze.
“I am, yes.” Aziraphale answers, tone light. However, his eyes hold an unfamiliar glint and are now wandering over the hollow Crowley’s throat that now feels utterly exposed. “Though I daresay we may have barely met the mark on the shelving. Might have to extend the room a bit to accommodate —”
“Whatever you want.” Crowley interrupted, stupidly, his traitorous mouth running away with him again. Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose just a tick, and Crowley felt the heat that was most certainly not Hellborn creep up the side of his neck. “I-I mean whatever you — need. For the house. I'll, er, we’ll see it’s done. Yeah?”
Aziraphale had curled his arms across his chest, the stretch of muscles under the skin there was distracting and Crowley’s own fingers twitch in response, his mouth going dry. Satan, look at him, undone completely by an angel’s _arms _of all things. It would be humiliating if it wasn’t Aziraphale. To Crowley, that was excuse enough to act like a teenager who finally figured out what his parts were for.
“Whatever I want, you say?” Aziraphale asked, almost musing, a hand lifting to rub his thumb across his mouth in thought. Crowley only just managed to suppress an embarrassing noise, shifting his feet and avoiding looking directly at him. His neck burned. |
050f34ee80c643d4907c7d6ec3ca6f06 | ['dd4d5c904f5743538570efeb67513cfb'] | “Up we go,” he coaxed, supporting Bob as he stood shakily.
Once out of the tub, Bob sat on the commode as Harry enveloped him in towels from head to toe, rubbing briskly.
“Better?” Harry asked after a minute.
“Mmmmmm.” Bob nodded, still leaning against Harry, more in pleasure now than in need.
“Take these, they’ll make you feel better,” Harry urged, offering aspirin and holding out a glass of water. Bob swallowed obediently.
“I’ll be right back,” Harry told him. He opened the door into the room and saw that everything he’d asked for had been brought. He turned down the covers and stuck the hot water bottles in. Then he went back for Bob and walked him to the bed, tucking him in snugly.
“Try to sleep,” Harry coaxed. “I’ll be right here beside you, and so will Emma,” he smiled. The dog had not waited to be invited, but was already snuggled against Bob’s thigh on the far side of the bed.
“Promise?” Bob croaked faintly, lifting his arm from beneath the covers to grasp Harry’s wrist.
“Promise,” Harry returned. He quickly stepped out of his pants and socks, and slid under the covers, mummifying the two of them under the thick duvet. Bob curled up tight against him, as if he were trying to lose himself in Harry’s arms. After many minutes of being gently stroked and rocked and shushed the tension finally left his body, and he lay heavy against Harry, sinking into sleep.
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Angst-o-Rama
Bob’s thrashing woke Harry. He seemed to be in the grip of a nightmare, his face contorted, though whether in fear or pain it was hard to tell. He was damp with sweat, his face red and appallingly hot when Harry pressed his palm against it.
“Shhhh, it’s okay Bob. It’s only a bad dream,” Harry soothed. “Wake up now.”
But he did not wake, and Harry realized that although it would be easy to tell himself Bob was simply having a fevered nightmare, that wasn’t exactly what was going on here. ‘Something’ was, as he’d feared, still pulling him back – something he dreaded. His body bowed and shivered in agony, and he whimpered like a frightened child. He was lost in ancient nightmares, and Harry was going to have to dive in and bring him back.
Emma whined, licking Bob’s hand.
“It’s okay, girl. I won’t let go of him,” Harry promised.
He gathered Bob in his arms, took a deep breath, and lay his forehead against Bob’s, concentrating. At first he felt only the physical pain Bob was feeling, but after a bit he began to zero in on other sensations. He felt like someone, or something, was clawing viciously at his face and body. He centered himself and repulsed the negative force he felt back to its source. A harsh keening hurt his ears, though he knew he and Bob were the only ones who could hear it.
“He is mine!”
Harry winced at the power behind the belief.
“He’s never been yours, and he never will be,” Harry challenged. “He’s mine and I’m his – and you don’t want to mess with me, sister,” he warned.
The pain was so sharp, Harry felt his head had been cleaved in two. Bob cried out in his arms.
Enough, Harry thought. I’ve had damn well enough of the legend and the ghost of Winifride in my life, and I’ve had enough of her and her damn Black magic controlling Bob’s destiny. It.stops.here. She’s not going to have control of him ever again.
He knew it wasn’t literally Winifride the sorceress who was taunting him, but the residue of her considerable energy and power, intertwined with Bob’s subconscious fear of her and whatever he believed she represented in his relationship with Harry. It was Bob he had to convince here, as much as Winifride. Harry took his time, gathering all the will he possessed.
I’m going to banish her, Bob – forever. She’s never coming back for you again. She has no power over you. She can’t take you away from me. She can’t. Emma and I won’t let her, he added, willing to use whatever talisman Bob believed in.
It hurt. God, it hurt. Winifride was loathe to give up her claim on the Lord of Bainbridge and he was too battered to fight the battle on his own behalf any longer. Between her and Bob, they almost beat him...almost. There was a heartbeat pounding in his ears, louder and louder, like something from The Tell-Tale Heart, and the strong capable arms of a woman – not Winifride, he thought - at the edge of his vision, and then...nothing.
Winifride was gone. Bob lay limp in his arms. Emma panted heavily, unable to lift her head from the blanket. Harry felt like he’d just run an Olympic marathon, and his own heart was about to burst from his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Emma’s ear. She licked his hand.
Harry lay back on the bed, trying to catch his breath. Bob’s body felt slightly cooler under his fingers, as if whatever had gripped him was slowly subsiding.
Bob stirred. He looked at Harry in wonder, only a thin halo of celadon framing the black pupils.
“What you did for me - I have never imagined there being anyone in my life who would have the power to do what you have done...Beloved,” he whispered. “You would not abandon me.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so ashamed that I have ever doubted you.” He buried his face against Harry’s chest.
Happy beyond measure that he had freed Bob from centuries of torment and slavery, Harry held him close, stroking him tenderly.
“It’s all over now, love,” he crooned. “Let it all go. It’s going to stay here, where it belongs. It will never follow us again.” | 4b3c0659d24e40acad02658f67ac37e2 | ['dd4d5c904f5743538570efeb67513cfb'] | All the way to the hospital in the ambulance, he cursed himself for not noticing what he was sure he should have noticed that would have prevented this. Dammit, this was his fault. As much as Hrothbert was positive he was responsible for everything in his domain, Harry felt just as responsible for the wounded Bob/Hrothbert in pain. He’d obviously fucked up badly in challenging Hrothbert, though at the time he didn’t know what else he could have done. He saw it now, though – he’d pretty much breached Bob’s last defense, and not in a good way.
After some garbled conversation between the paramedics and the hospital and Bob getting some IVs, he began to come around a little. His eyes flickered open, and he was fighting the paramedics, although he was still not fully conscious. Harry was gut-wrenchingly relieved that he’d opened his eyes at all, and that he was still breathing. He wanted to take Bob’s hand, but he couldn’t get close enough.
Bob was wheeled directly into one of the treatment rooms, and Harry was stopped at the door. He’d known this was coming; he’d been in enough emergency rooms himself and had gone with enough injured friends to know that this was the drill, but it still frustrated the hell out of him. All he could do now was sit and wait until someone came to fill him in – and that might take hours.
Harry sat in the waiting room, oblivious to the TV and people’s comings and goings. He was pulled out of himself once, when a doctor emerged and gave a waiting relative what was obviously the worst news they could receive. He winced in sympathy at wailed protestations and tears, and wondered if that was going to be him in an hour or two.
He couldn’t talk to Bob; he didn’t even know if he was conscious. But he had to try something, he was going to go crazy if he didn’t, wondering if he’d ever be able to talk to him again. He forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths. He shut down even further than before, closing his eyes. Bob had told him more than once that he was at least somewhat telepathic. Harry hoped he was right.
_Bob, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I drove you to this. I didn’t mean to, it’s just - I love you so much that it really hurts to see what you’re going through. I wish you could trust me enough to tell me the rest of it, but if you don’t, I’ll understand, and that’s okay. I’ll be there, whatever happens. Just please, don’t shut me out. Let me try and help you. I love you...as much as he did. Please, let me prove that to you. Don’t leave me._
“Mr. Dresden?” A middle-aged nurse in scrubs touched his shoulder.
“Yeah.” Harry shook himself, literally and figuratively. “How is he? Is he - ”
“Mr. Bainbridge is all right, but we’re going to admit him overnight for observation. Can you come with me now? The doctor would like to speak with you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied, so eager to hear more that he stumbled, he got up so fast. The nurse smiled, taking him by the elbow.
“Careful, we wouldn’t want both of you needing to be admitted,” she admonished gently. Harry focused only on ‘Mr. Bainbridge is all right’, and not much else as he followed the nurse through the door into the treatment area. She led him to a small office, told him Dr. Kelley would be with him shortly, and left.
It was okay. He could wait for the doctor to show up, because Bob was okay. Some of those people out there, the people they cared about weren’t okay. Weren’t ever going to be okay again. Harry shivered.
Just when he was starting to get antsy, the door opened and a harried-looking doctor about Bob’s age...well, his physical age...came in, running his fingers through his gray hair. He was consulting the chart he carried, running through with some recent data.
“Mr. Dresden, I’m Dr. Kelley. Your friend will recover with treatment, but I want to find out what brought this on, if you don’t mind a few questions.”
“Of course. Brought – what on, exactly? Nobody’s told me anything, except that he’s okay. What’s wrong with him? Why did he pass out like that?” Harry asked. The doctor sat opposite him.
“Judging by his blood work and his electrolytes, he hasn’t eaten in days. His chemistry is all out of whack. His body has basically gone into starvation mode. Electrolytes are tricky things, Mr. Dresden, even for the young and healthy. If his potassium had gotten any lower, his heart could have stopped,” the doctor told him.
“Damn,” Harry groaned. He’d gotten so used to Bob not eating much the past few weeks, he hadn’t seen that it had become serious.
“He...he’s been going through a rough time emotionally the past couple of months. Something’s bothering him. Something big, to him. He’s been preoccupied, not taking care of himself in general. I’ve tried to make sure he eats, but I’m not always home,” Harry explained.
“He’s also covered with scrapes and bruises. What can you tell me about that?” the doctor asked pointedly. Harry sighed.
“It’s not me, if that’s what you’re thinking, doc,” he responded, looking Dr. Kelley in the eye. “He chalks it up to clumsiness. I think he’s trying to hurt himself.”
“I think you’re right, Mr. Dresden. You know, these are classic symptoms of a serious depression.”
“I know. I’ve tried to talk to him...tried to draw him out, and it worked, for a while. I thought he was getting better, but...things came to a head about a week ago. We had an argument,” Harry admitted. “I guess after that he just stopped eating. I should have seen it coming.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. |
1aed5431c74745c891280bda821f2ff2 | ['dd587c6d7e3b4fb785e729bff298ec85'] | The suggestion alone was enough to make Jimin laugh, the thought just as insane as intimidating, though he dismissed it with rising brows and a breathless chuckle.
"What are you talking about...? I'm on suppressants, you know that. I can't be pregnant, I'm-..."
He halted when a thought crossed his mind, all color washing from his face, and jaw dropping, going totally slack as he tried to catch up with his racing and whirling thoughts.
"I...I didn't take them after coming home from the hospital. They said...my heats could be irregular and unpredictable for a while... But..."
Suddenly, a few staff member waved them forward. Their shirts were drenched in sweat, voices stressed, and faces hidden under blood red hats, while Jimin wanted nothing more than to turn around and hide in his room until the panic that slowly begun to rise would subside.
But he couldn't.
All he got was a guilty, and worried glance from Ken who hastily grabbed his hand, and squeezed. Brown eyes filled with unspoken apologies.
"Shit, I'm sorry! I thought you knew...fuck, are you okay? Should I tell them to stop the show?! You look really bad..."
The need to throw up, and the overwhelming confusion from the other's sudden carefulness, the gentleness in his voice and actions, made him stumble while a young woman helped him climb onto a small platform.
Still, he waved off.
After taking a few shallow breaths in an attempt to calm himself, he forced a shaky smile. Honey eyes filled with tender determination.
"No, don't be ridiculous. I'm fine. Let's just do this."
He'd push through, no matter what. The same way he had always done.
To say the show was amazing would be an understatement.
It was mind-blowing, stunning. Like a different world, not written with words, but told with their bodies, their movements, their songs.
Especially the beginning managed to grab Jungkook's full attention, eyes glazed in amazement when a pink, glowing, lotus flower was lifted by invisible strings until it slowly came to a halt, midair.
As it opened it's majestic petals, the figure of a person could be seen, clothed in innocent white, and with blue sparkles littered on his tan cheeks.
Jimin.
He rose from his fetal position, bending backwards, boneless like a snake, before stretching his arms towards the sky. Hands grabbing as if to get a hold of something, someone, a fleeting dream.
And then, he started singing.
A tender requiem.
While his voice slowly bled into deeper, fuller, tones, the light of the flower gradually changed from heavenly blue to hellish red, and when Jimin's voice snapped with a last, dying, high note, he collapsed.
The petals fell, covering the stage in a dim, red, glow while Jimin was slowly lowered to the ground.
Ken joined him shortly after, when the real show begun.
They performed twenty songs, changed into three different stage outfits, and, of course, executed every single choreography with beautiful perfection.
Jimin was even more elegant than Jungkook remembered, every move a fluent wave of control before breaking out in a burst of emotions.
And after the last song played, Jimin brought the mic to his lips for last time, breathless and exhausted, but the charming smile still brightened his face, happiness glowing, and pearling, all over his skin.
"I honestly hope you enjoyed the show." he spoke softly, smile growing even more when the cheering crowd answered with a loud, "Yes!"
Still, Jungkook noticed the subtle change in his mate's posture.
His hands quivered nervously, and so did his lips while he lowered his gaze and took a deep breath, although it didn't do much to calm his fluttering nerves.
"Ahh, I'm glad! But...I want to tell you something before we end this. You'll listen to me, won't you?"
Another yes echoed through the room. A mess of voices, hundreds and more. The sound never failed to make Jimin shiver in amazement, in awe.
"Alright, so...I'm sorry. I haven't been entirely honest with you guys. I get it if you're mad, I really do. But please, don't let my mistakes alter your opinion of the group. Kenny didn't know anything about it, please don't stop giving him the love he deserves."
The weight felt unbearable on his chest, heavier than ever, and he took a last deep breath before saying the words that everyone told him would undoubtedly end his career.
"I...I am mated, have been for years. I know it might be difficult for some of you to accept, but I love him. I love my mate more than anything, and even though I keep telling that you're strong, even without a mate, I don't think having one is a weakness, either. So...I can only bow down to you, and ask for you to be understanding, and forgive me. But still, please understand that I will only apologize for my lies, not for mating the one I love."
Once the show came to an end, the small group left the concert hall in order to move towards a calmer, quieter place where they could wait for Jimin.
"God, my throat is fucking dry." Taehyung complained after having screamed and cheered for three hours straight. Faithful like the sweetest pup but louder than an old general's battle cry.
He was sitting on a staircase, wiggling back and forth, while sending a pleading glance towards his stern looking boyfriend who only lifted a brow in question as if to ask, what do you want me to do about it?
In the end, it was Jungkook who decided to play the older Omega's delivery boy.
"I'll go." he sighed with his cheeks still painted in crimson, they had been ever since Jimin had admitted his love for him in front of what felt like the whole world.
"They sell street food over there, and I want to buy something for Jiminie Hyung, anyway. He must be hungry." | 33ef3e70a21f4d9896b4c6506da09d90 | ['dd587c6d7e3b4fb785e729bff298ec85'] | They're just prostitutes, the Alphas who ran the fight club would say. This is their job, that's what they get paid for. They probably like it.
But Jungkook didn't see it.
All he saw was a bunch of young, terrified kids, just like him, who were pushed from one Alpha to the next whenever they got drunk at night. They would be locked in a room with those of them who were in rut or handed over as trophies. A prize for the most successful of the group.
The ones who survive.
Jungkook was one of them. Successful. A survivor. Always driven by the need to find the only person he had left, the only one he still held close to his heart.
He tried so hard to stay away from it all by hiding in his room, beneath the blanket of his makeshift bed, but he still saw it. He saw the blood, the bruises, the tears. He heard the screams at night, heard them beg, heard them cry before screaming even more when they realized there was no saving them.
He waited there, with his pillow pulled over his head, hands covering his ears, until he would finally fall asleep. His shaking, malnourished body got a much needed break, just like his always high strung, cautious brain.
Two months in, his first rut since he arrived finally caught up to him. It hit him in the middle of a fight which he barely survived before being thrown into a small, empty room to pretty much ride it out by himself for the next few days. No food, no water. Nobody cared whether he died.
He barely remembered any of it, to be honest. The only thing that was clear was when the door was opened with a screeching scream, a boy was thrown into the room.
The Omega scent hit Jungkook like a truck, made him press his body even further into the corner of the room while the stranger carefully wobbled closer.
"I'll help you…" he said quietly, his voice nothing more than a terrified squeak. "They told me to help you. I can do it."
Jungkook only shook his head with his eyes stubbornly squeezed shut, still traumatized by the things he witnessed during the time he spent at this place.
He didn't want to be like them. He didn't ever want to hurt Omegas, no matter how delirious he felt or in how much pain he was.
It would feel as if he hurt him, Jimin, and he would never be able to live with that thought. With that guilt.
Alphas like that didn't deserve to live.
However, the boy seemed weirdly determined. Thinking back now, he was probably scared to be punished when he didn't do a good job but Jungkook hadn't been rational enough to think that far.
All he remembered was a slender hand on his shoulder, a scent too sweet, filled with fear.
"It will be okay, Alpha. I'll be okay."
The next time Jungkook became semi conscious, the Omega was already gone with the wind, nowhere to be found.
Later, as he made his way through the seemingly wavering hallways, he would find out that it had been a week since he was thrown into the room. When he asked about the Omega, they just laughed, telling him he was long gone.
_But what did that mean?_
They never told him what really happened which drove Jungkook utterly insane with fear and doubt, made him hyper aware of his own instincts, causing him to feel completely out of control half of the time. It made him feel scared of himself. Of what he did, what he might be able to do without even remembering a thing.
He barricaded the door of his room during his ruts to make sure nobody would ever be able to get in again. Even beyond that, he kept his distance from everyone, turning himself into a silent, nervous loner until the day Yoongi finally appeared and took him along.
_____________
"He got much better since then but he's still traumatized even when it doesn't really seem that way. Can't really blame him, to be honest. We had to take out several of those fucking nests and the kids coming out of those places almost never grow up to have healthy mindsets. In fact, many become the next generation of captors, simply because they've become numb to the things they saw. Many spent the biggest part of their childhood in there, watching abuse or being abused themselves. For many it's all they know especially when they don't manage to find their families or normal people to connect to afterwards."
Yoongi shook his head and sighed as if the thought alone was painful even though he never had to live through it himself.
"So… If he seems overprotective, that's probably why. He knows very well what could've happened and I can't even begin to imagine what must've gone through his head while he was looking for you. I guess what I'm trying to say is, be patient with the kid. He's smart and he clearly adores you a lot. As long as you talk to him, he'll try his best to be reasonable and make things work. He simply doesn't want you to get hurt, you know."
"I get it.There's no way Jungkook killed the boy, though. He's never been the violent type, there's no way that his character makes a complete turn just because he's in rut. When Alphas hurt Omegas, that's their choice, not their instincts. They probably played mind games with him just to torture him even more."
Jimin's voice was so unwavering, without any doubt, even Yoongi looked surprised before he showed a tiny smile.
"I agree. That's exactly what I tried to tell him for years but he just won't listen. The boy's too terrified of himself to trust his own mind." |
0adb4c4a85ee481c9deff4b6d7e32a72 | ['ddf16ef958544df18d684c07c3a63215'] | “Okay…” Cloud let out a shaky exhale, shifting his grip on his sword. It shifted, sliding out about a half inch, causing Cloud to seize up in fear for a moment. He didn’t dare move now, no matter how tired his hands were growing. He wondered how far the fall was. Even from this angle, he couldn’t see the end. He could hear his pulse inside his ears now, and he stared up at the entrance of the tunnel, waiting for Vincent to arrive. Listening to Cid chatter with the engineer on the Wutai ship, hearing that things were going well for them, helped him ease his anxieties. Though he feared both what could be lurking below him, falling, and being found by something above as well, he didn’t panic. The sword slipped out again. “Vincent.” He said again, this time with a little more urgency in his voice, feeling a tremor in his knees. He could feel the clay began to give way to the weight. He kicked his feet out, and braced against the opposite side, using all of his strength to keep the sword stuck into the opposite wall, and hold his body up. He hung his head, and was met with darkness, and quickly looked back up to the hole above him.
Only a half second after he looked up, the little light from above was taken over by a swirling, shadowy ghost-like form descending into the tunnel above him. His eyes widened, and for a split second, falling seemed like the better option.
“I’ve got you.” Spoke a deep, familiar voice, just before the form scooped Cloud up, and gracefully lifted him from the tunnel, dropping him and his sword a safe distance away from the hole. Cloud groaned with relief to be on solid ground, opening his eyes and looking at Vincent was he fluttered to the ground, back into human form. “Sorry if I startled you.”
Cloud shook his head, pushing himself up to his feet again, “Thanks.” He was still trembling slightly, and he looked down at his feet, not sure if he wanted to move. So he tried to play it off, as though he hadn’t been afraid.
Vincent looked him over, wondering if he had scared him more than the potential fall, or getting eaten by the Gladian. Regardless, he didn’t fret about it. This wasn't the first time he had heard someone calling out to save them. Cloud wasn’t looking for comfort right now, and he would get over it shortly and in his own way. “Cid is almost done, from the sounds of it,” he started after a few moments of silence, “Let’s head back.”
_Alright boys, start her up!_
In the distance, a slow growing hum of the airship engine could be heard, and a soft, warm breeze came and trickled on by them. The engine grew louder, and to full force. Vincent and Cloud exchanged glances, “That was fast.” Cloud said, as they started walking back towards the ship.
There was another rumble in the ground, this time, something much stronger, and audible, coming from the hole behind them. Vincent drew his Cerberus, and looked behind him, watching as a group of moths came frantically flying out of the tunnel. The rumbling didn’t cease, and instead, grew stronger. A low, hollow hiss came rolling out from beneath the roots. “Cloud, run!”
_Vincent? Cloud? What’s going on?_
The two of them took off running back towards the ship, Vincent making sure Cloud was ahead of him before he started off.
“Cid! We need to go!” Cloud said urgently, “The Gladian is coming! Are the Wutai ready to go?”
_What? What are you? Yeah—they’re ready—Shit—Go on, get outta here! Go!_
Behind them, the Gladian lurched out of the hole, an enormous serpent with slick green and grey scales, and a wild, feathery and furry mane with grey and white feathers, and black fur, a long, slick thorns lined its spine in two rows. It had large, empty green eyes, and a narrow snout, many rows of fangs, and a purple tongue. The beast hissed, and reared its head up, drawing the rest of its body out of the hole, the end of its tale lined in feathers and spines. It launched forward after them, slipping between the trees, spitting acid at them from behind, spotting Vincent’s cape with the fizzling lavender liquid. From above, the Wutai ship took off into the air, unable to do much to help the situation.
“Think we can out run it?” Cloud breathed to Vincent.
“We’ll have to try.” Vincent responded, lurching up a hill after Cloud, and spying the clearing where the ship had landed, and Cid was climbing on his motorcycle. The moment they reached the edge of the clearing, the Gladian swung its massive tail in front, slamming it down in front of them, knocking them back a few feet.
Cloud was the first one back to his feet, whipping out his sword, and launched at the Gladian, slicing at its mane, rather than going straight for its head, lined with venomous spines. The Gladian reared its head, and tossed Cloud out of the way, spraying him with acid as he was tossed into the air.
Vincent snapped to his feet and took aim at the beast’s head, firing multiple times. The Gladian roared and shook its head, directing acid at him instead. He leapt out of the way, and landed behind him, firing at him from the back of its head. Meanwhile, Cloud came down from above, striking the beast on the top of its skull. The sword only stuck in a few inches, stopped by its thick skull, and plated scales. The beast roared again, thrashing its head, tossing the ex-Soldier aside as though he was nothing more but a nuisance. | dd068d2706114eb6b97ec40c46a01ae8 | ['ddf16ef958544df18d684c07c3a63215'] | Having lived a chaste life for many, many years Vincent found it foreign and difficult to accept these feelings, especially towards Cid, who he would imagine would be quite disgusted with him. These were emotions he hasn’t felt since he was in his early twenties, ones that exhausted him and distracted him, and made it even more difficult for him to relate to Cid when he was constantly trying to bat away his guilty thoughts. It wasn’t even the fact that he found these thoughts to be deviant or shameful, he just didn’t know how to approach them, and was convinced that Cid would not appreciate them in the slightest.
He dropped his head, groaning as he put his fist against the wall, trying to stop these thoughts. Maybe he was just so incredibly lonely he was just latching onto whoever showed him compassion. He pressed his head against his arm, looking down at his boots.
“What are you doooing?” Marlene asked, poking her head between Vincent and the wall, looking up at him.
Blinking at her, Vincent straightened up, sighing. “Just being silly.” He answered, so as to avoid giving her a real explanation, “Thank you for the picture.”
She grinned, folding her hands behind her back and looking up at him. “I did most of the work, but Denzel helped too.” She said proudly. Her face fell and she tilted her head, “Are you still not feeling well?”
“I’m a little sore.” He answered honestly, “But I’m much better now.”
“That’s good.” She smiled again, “Uncle Cid says we’re going to be landing soon.”
“Mm… are you excited to go home?” Vincent said, trying to get it so Marlene would do all the talking for him.
She nodded, smiling again. “I can’t wait to show Denzel around. Though I honestly don’t remember very much of it…”
“I’m sure Denzel will enjoy himself.”
“He better!” Marlene held up her fist, similar to how Barrett would do when expressing his determination to accomplish something.
Vincent smiled a little at her enthusiasm.
“By the way…” Marlene started, “Are you going to stay in Rocket Town? Cid said he was thinking about staying for a few days, and so are Cloud and Tifa.”
Vincent wasn’t so sure. He assumed he was invited to stay at Cid’s house. If not, he would just stay at an inn, unless Cid had intended to dump him there, which certainly he didn’t. Cid must have mentioned it in passing before. “Sure, I’ll stay.” He said, pushing back the temptation to visit Nibelheim.
“Great!”
“Marlene?” Tifa called from around the corner, appearing at the end of the corridor. She stopped, putting her hands on her hips, “There you are. Have you finished packing?”
“Yeeees.”
Tifa sighed, walking up to them. She looked up at Vincent, smiling. “Looking good.” She said sweetly, “She wasn’t bothering you, was she?”
“No, of course not.” Vincent replied.
“Say…Cloud, Barrett and I were going to go out and have get together tonight. Would you and Cid like to join us? You must still be tired…”
“Sure.”
“Good. I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But it would be nice to get everyone together again. For old times’ sake.”
“It sounds like a good time.” Vincent assured kindly.
Tifa stared at him for a second, before the smile returned to her face. “I’ll text you later, then.” She said, “Come on Marlene, let’s make sure you have everything.”
“But Tiifaaa.”
“Come on.”
“Oh, alright.” Tifa guided Marlene back down the corridor. Marlene waved to Vincent. “See you later Mr. Valentine!”
After the airship landed, Vincent found Cid, shyly inviting him out tonight. Thrilled that Vincent had invited him, he said yes and secured the ship into place. He grabbed a backpack full of personal supplies and walked with Vincent to his house, showing him around. It was a nice house, two stories with an attic, and a cute corner kitchen and an open living room and sun room on two different levels. Things were dusty, and a lot of the things were missing. He hasn’t been back to the house since Shera left him, and it appeared that Shera had taken a lot of things with her.
Vincent glanced around, stepping out of his boots at the door. He set his bag down, walking around in a circle from the kitchen to the sun room, living room, and then back at the front door, and the foot of the stairs. Cid had jogged upstairs, going on about how he use to hate the decorations Shera put up, but now the place felt empty. He looked at the pictures on the walls, getting small glimpses back into Cid’s past. He was suddenly very aware that he was actually alone with Cid.
“Hey, are you hearin’ anything I’ve been sayin?”
“Hm?” Vincent turned his head towards him, unfolding his arms.
Cid let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his shoulder. “You want anythin’ to drink? Or eat?”
“No, thank you.”
“A’right. Well go and make yourself at home. How’s yer leg?” Cid asked, stepping over beside him to see what pictures he was looking at.
Vincent slipped past him and took a seat on his couch, lifting his leg up and groaning softly as he let his head fall back. “Sore.” He answered, looking at Cid from across the room. |
ef1217a4814f48d79ab2060f7acdf2ce | ['de123b05d0714942952492aeee1baae5'] |
Sunrise
**Author's Note:**
> this fic is not fully edited, will do it when I'm available again
Kagami dreams of motorbikes, catsuits, and kevlar masks; of diving from rooftops and scaling walls, the crunch of a jaw against his fist, the red of blood underneath his fingertips. He dreams of sleepless nights and teasing voices in his ear. Of the twinkle in Alex's eyes, the sureness of her strikes – the power, the precision, the superhuman grace. He dreams of Tatsuya, and his once endless smiles. Of the warm body he'd curled into once the night was gone and the sun rose to light up the sky.
He dreams of comfort, warmth and trust. He dreams of better times, happier times. He dreams of the end. The smell of human flesh burning against his own skin, the sickening crunch of bone, and blood, blood on his hands and in his veins pulsing furiously through him till it washed away his very being. Until there was nothing left but the monster inside him.
Kagami dreams. He dreams of things he would rather forget and would rather not miss. He dreams of L.A.. The darkness of the nights, the smell of rotting milk and urine. The sprawling labyrinth that was its streets, the grime of its underbelly, the privacy of its rooftops. He dreams of endless stream of people. The beach. The feel of sand between his toes and the stickiness of saltwater on his skin. He dreams of basketball under the scorching heat of the sun. Of simpler times, before... Before.
He would rather not talk about it.
Tokyo is an entirely different breed of city from what he's used to. It's familiar enough in the way most big cities are generally alike, but it's foreign enough that he feels displaced even without a language barrier. In a way it's foreignness is almost welcome. A good distraction (makes it easier to forget).
Tokyo is a city of rules, and almost eerily well organized groups of metas. There were meta detective agencies, a meta division in the police force, intelligence sectors, security – nearly every registered meta was in service to some higher power. There was little freedom in using their powers, but no one seemed to mind.
Kagami doesn't mind either, not really. Although he isn't sure how to feel about having less work. He's gone from having to safeguard an entire city from anything and everything, to not being allowed to punch a non-meta without getting arrested (apparently he needs a license to do that legally). It was a big change, one he still needed to adjust to.
And it made him feel restless, as if he weren't being as useful as he could be. On the other hand it was a relaxing change of pace. Peaceful.
Kuroko is convinced that the peace is a lie. But then, he's Kuroko. If these months have taught Kagami anything about him it's that he's stubborn to a fault and is convinced of very many things. Maybe Kagami has been seeing things his way lately, but that's neither here nor there. He still doesn't know if the peace is a sham for sure. (How does peace become fake anyway? That's what he wants to know.)
What he is ready to agree to however, it that The Miracles, to whom this peace may be attributed, are probably assholes. The word “probably” being a gross understatement if the last thirty seconds, with this four-eyes who's writing him a freaking parking ticket, is anything to go by.
“I'm pretty sure I'm parked in the right place.” Kagami had said, upon exiting Maji Burger and seeing a policeman standing by his motorbike.
“Good afternoon Midorima-kun.” Kuroko had said, after seeing the same policeman.
“Who now?” Kagami had asked, just as the policeman said “I should have known.”
And this is how he learns that the ass who's about to give him a ticket (for parking his motorbike in a place where he's allowed to park his motorbike (goddamit)) was a former member of the Miracles.
Definitely no “probably” about it.
“I wasn't aware that I made a habit of parking illegally Midorima-kun.” Kuroko retorts plainly against Midorima's insults, express and implied “And besides this isn't my motorcycle.”
“But you allowed such a thing to happen.” Midorima glares at him sharply “You were always too lenient on civilians.”
“And you were always too tough on them and everyone else.” says Kuroko.
Kagami feels distinctly ignored. “I'm pretty sure I didn't park illegally though.” he interjects.
Kuroko turns to him “I'm sorry Kagami-kun, you did.” and then back to Midorima “He's an American, he doesn't know better.”
“He's speaking Japanese.”
“Kagami-kun, would you please speak English?”
Kagami just rolls his eyes.
Midorima humphs “Even if he were American, our laws apply to all those who sojourn our territory, and ignorance of the law has never excused anyone from compliance therewith.” *
Kuroko frowns “You truly are too hard on civilians.”
“Enough.” Midorima rips the ticket from his pad and hands it to Kagami, all the while not tearing his eyes away from Kuroko “We have never seen eye to eye, this discussion is a waste of time. Good day.”
Without giving them a chance to rebut, he opens a shining green portal (or what looks like one) effortlessly and disappears through it. In his wake, strangely, is the distinct scent of mint.** Kagami sneezes.
“Teleporter,” explains Kuroko “among a number of other things.”
“Yeah I guessed.” Kagami grunts “Are all of them like that?”
“Worse.”
“Well,” he snorts “I'm glad I agreed to help you kick their asses.”
One side of Kuroko's mouth twitches into a tiny smile “That's not what we're doing exactly.”
“Might as well be.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
His phone rings in the middle of the night, shaking him awake. It's probably a call from L.A. considering the time. If he's lucky, it's his dad. If he's not, it's Alex. | 0ccd490d4f0a4ce199b171ea6d21f786 | ['de123b05d0714942952492aeee1baae5'] | “The one and only.” said Athena “Ah, I gotta get back to Apollo it looks like he's about to blow a fuse looking at those two. They're practically having dry sex for crying out loud. See ya Gavin.” she then shoved her way into the crowd and shooed away the couple dancing in front of a beet red Apollo.
Klavier had watched them for the rest of the night with great interest. And that, he thinks, was how it started.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Klavier wouldn't have called it an _**obsession**_ except that's probably what it was. He couldn't get Apollo out of his mind. The way he purposefully tried to avoid standing out with the way he dressed (but still managed to stand out anyway because of the way he almost always wore red). The way he studiously and meticulously did his school work, underlining important passages from his textbooks and making neat precise notes on everything he reads on his yellow pad paper. The slight nervous quiver in his loud firm voice during recitations. The somehow incredibly adorable way he'd cross his arms and press his right index finger onto the middle of the wide expanse of his forehead.
Klavier may not have been willing to call it an obsession but he knew early on that he was a goner.
“You're insane.” Daryan said to him after listening to him drone on about Apollo for at least thirty minutes “You don't even know this guy and you're obsessed with him.”
“I'm not _**obsessed**_ with him,” Klavier replied indignantly “and I _**do**_ know him! We're classmates in almost every class, seatmates in one of them in fact, and I know his parents are Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth, _**the**_ Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. I also know he has a little sister called Trucy who I met once. And I know he lives–”
“What the hell did you do, stalk his facebook?” Daryan scoffed “None of that proves anything. This is the sort of information you can get when you stalk someone's facebook. How many times have you even talked to the guy?”
Klavier huffed “We've talked.”
“Let me guess.” Daryan said mockingly, rolling his eyes “Hi. Hello. Bye. Can I borrow your pen? Gesundheit.”
“I haven't exactly had the chance to use that last one but–”
“Oh my god Klav, get a life, shouldn't you be studying? Don't you have a big test tomorrow?”
“People who are only cramming for that sort of thing the day before are in trouble. I finished studying last week, I only need to browse through my notes a bit, relax.”
“You are the biggest nerd.” Daryan punched his arm, not enough to cause pain but enough to put Klavier out of balance “The literal biggest nerd. I cannot believe I am friends with the literal biggest nerd on the entire planet.”
“Would a nerd be obsessing over things like this the day before an exam?”
“The literal biggest stalker nerd.”
Klavier sighed, exasperated “Shut up Daryan.” he grumbled, wanting nothing more of the conversation.
Unfortunately for him, Daryan would later repeatedly pull him into similar conversations, a situation that had lasted months until Klavier just about had enough and finally, awkwardly, asked Apollo out.
Looking back maybe Daryan had a point, crudely as he may have put it. He spent the first half of the semester hopelessly crushing on Apollo Justice-Wright and it had been downright embarrassing. He doesn't know who knew and who didn't but the way Athena Cykes leered at him made it known that he was being painfully obvious somehow.
He didn't even know what he liked about the guy. Other than the fact that every single thing he did was somehow the cutest thing Klavier's ever seen. Was it a physical thing? Was Klavier as shallow as the tabloids made him out to be? Maybe he's just expecting too much of himself. Maybe what's really shallow is for him to expect that he'd have grand reasons for liking someone. Maybe it's ok to admit that sometimes you like someone and sometimes there's no deep reason behind it. Nothing except the fact that you somehow find them absolutely adorable inside-out, whether or not you knew how you got there.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“I saw you hanging out with Ichiyanagi during lunch the other day.”
Of all the things Klavier thought Apollo could bring up during their first date, Ichiyanagi was definitely not on the top of the list. In fact he wasn't even really on the list to begin with. Klavier has no idea why this is happening. Letting his mild momentary panic pass, he reminds himself that it isn't as if this is a topic they haven't talked about before.
Klavier remembers a conversation in the hallway in front of the dean's office that ended with him leaving awkwardly after mentioning Kristoph. Perhaps Apollo was still bothered by that. But then, Klavier honestly didn't know where to begin on the topic of Ichiyanagi.
He supposes, that all things considered, he might feel sorry for him. He seems so painfully oblivious of his father's machinations and the harsh opinions his peers have of him. Even in the face of physical bullying Yumihiko kept telling himself that everyone was just jealous, and that this was the price he had to pay. He was painfully innocent (or ignorant, whichever way you wanted to put it, though Klavier preferred the former) and often Klavier found that couldn't bear to watch.
He remembers a party from a few years ago, the birthday of Chief Prosecutor Skye. Yumihiko had been there, and so had his father. Klavier remembers the two of them distinctly because he hasn't ever heard a father call his son an idiot quite as many times as Bansai had that night. He remembers the look of disgust on his parents' face. Even if it was true how could he talk to his son like that? And in public? |
d0adb255a5464b32885227443d1fbeb4 | ['de256c935c5b401ea16e656f21e6ea6b'] | I'm Crying
**Author's Note:**
> My very first kurotsuki story ヽ(；▽；)ノ. I've been wanting to write it but didnt dare since there's so many good story but mine? Nah. But i cant stay still anymore. Everytime listen this song. I imagine krtsk. I need to write it. And here it is. Hope you like it!
Please listen LINK (im sorry just check the video. Doesnt have audio. Here's i change the link) because i made this story after listening this song. And imagine tsukishima singing this
* * *
"tsukishima san.. ready. 3 2 1.. start" the voice from the earfone he's wearing saying. and the piano playing.
....
_"in empty room, only the beating of the heart can be heard in its stillness._
_singing about loneliness i am crying as the sound of rain fill the air."_
right. it's also rain back then. that night when everything is over. when tsukishima lost him.
_"kei.. do you still like me?"_ his boyfriend asked him suddenly. they just had dinner together. it's rare time lately. since both of them so busy with tsukishima just debut as an idol and kuroo as intern at some hospital in tokyo.
tsukishima looked up at his boyfriened. the said boyfriend looked away and stare down at his plate. he didnt like the expression his boyfriend had right now. kuroo never looked like this. in 3 years of relationship, kuroo never looked away whenever tsukishima looked at him. something will happened. it finally will happened. despite his heart beating so fast, he tried act like nothing and stand up to put his plate to wash _"where is this come from, kuroo san?_
_"i.. feel like somehow there's distance between us. we've met less, we've talked less.. whenever you've come home you.. you just here.. we've been just like a roomate instead a lover."_
_"i'm just tired kuroo san"_
_"no.. it's not just that"_ kuroo said imidately. finally his boyfriend looked up. tsukishima can feel the stare. _"it's not just tired kei. i knew. what is it? are you tired of me? are you no longer like me? why"_ kuroo voice sound vulnerable. tsukishima want turned around and hold his boyfriend and told him that no.. that's not it. he's still like him. love him even. yet he didnt do it. he stayed in his plate. pretending washing the dishes.
_"there's nothing kuroo-san"_
_"really kei?"_ instead sound angry kuroo's voice sound sad. tsukishima hate that it. his boyfriend voice always sound anything except sad. well maybe sometimes sad but it because some stupid movie not him.
_"i'm going to bed"_ tsukishima turn around and move to bedroom. not longer after him sit in bed he heard the front door closing.
_"those days when i pretend to not notice your tears._
_my heart only looked at the future i drew for my own._
_i dont want anything else but you, but you_
_i understand them now, your feeling"_
it's funny whenever tsukishima think about it again. the reason how it all happened. it's simply because he's afraid. he really want become an idol back then. it's his dream. when he think he can lost the dream that he finally had. he put other thing or person aside. his work is number 1. if the current him can go to that time he'll tell the younger him. that he should told kuroo whats on his thought. they should discussed it. told the younger him that kuroo would understand and find the way. that way he doesnt have to hurt the person he love and being hurted because the stupid choice he pick.
after kuroo leave that night whenever tsukishima come back he always find there's nobody at home. the apartment seems so quiet. after awhile he decide to move and living on dorm with other member of his group.
_"the scenery that i took for granted._
_the warm feeling i always felt in my left arm._
_yes my heart remembers._
_i'm trying, i'm trying, i'm trying to forget you"_
how many relationship he had after that? none tsukishima think. but if it's just fling there's some. there's even one that almost he makes serious. but it's cant work. tsukishima will always remember kuroo.. will compare them to kuroo. it's almost killing him how much he miss kuroo. but he cant do anything. he hurted him. there's also fact that maybe kuroo already found someone. already forget him. well tsukishima wont blame him if he did.
_"you are also seeing the same sky somewhere_
_a gentle rain, that also resembles love, pour down_
_sadness and regret, it flushes them away gently_
_i'm crying, i'm crying, i'm crying cause i'm missing you"_
the loud cheer bring tsukishima back to current event. the fans chanting his name when he finished his song. he didnt event realized he's really crying. here is the stage where their 10th anniversary concert hold and the last concert that they'll hold together. the fans loud cheer really feel great but that didnt conceal the missing feeling of the laughter, playfull teased, silly banter. they once had.
tsukishima bow and leave the stage.
_'hey kuroo san. if somehow we meet again would you give us a second change?'_
**Author's Note:**
> Is it weird? I'm sorry. Anyway.. did you listen the song? You can imagine how tsukishima singing it . Kudos and comment would be appreciated! (๑＞ڡ＜)☆ | 59a6ee80d594465ea8a6eab306914d06 | ['de256c935c5b401ea16e656f21e6ea6b'] | "wait.. I heard about this arrange married" hearing those words Ren put his phone back on his side and put his Bluetooth earphone and start driving
"yeah.. so what about it?"
"you really won't do it?"
"you know the reason nii-san. why would I do agree?" he remember back then how he's hurt and told tsubaru everything the he cheer him up. that might be the reason he looked up to this brother.
"right. well then.. there's no choice. I'll back and replace you" Ren have to stop suddenly on the side road. he take off his earphone and put his phone back on his ear
"you what?!"
"I'll back to Japan to replace you. no wait not replace you but take my place back. aniki said it's actually for me. the will I meant. but since you're there he picked you instead. but again. since you won't do it aniki told me. annndddd since I saw these picture of current masato. I don't think I mind it.. I meant he-..." Ren turn off his phone and tossed it aside. he drive his car turn around toward his house
-meanwhile-
"hello Ren.. did you just hung up on me? how can you!" tsubaru look at his wallpaper phone, smiling. he opened the contact and called the person who just called him before.
"I'm done. he probably on his way back"
"thank you"
"I'll wait my reward O-NII-SAN~" and he heard his phone gone off. "again? seriously why both of my brother like this toward me?"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There! Ren second brother show up. But please since i dont know his name i made it by myself. Anyway the reason is RST... Ren Seiichiro. So i think i need a name with T lol.
>
> Once again please do excuse me if there's mistake. It's an autocorrect or me being stupid.
>
> Thank you for reading! ^0^
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Up here we go
"oniisan"
"Ren" seiichiro looked up from the computer and saw Ren panting on the door
"is it true?" he pants "is it true that it's supposed for tsubaru nii-san?"
"well. honestly it didn't said who is it. it's just said jinguuji child. which is why since you won't do it. I asked tsubaru to do it"
"why don't you do it instead seiichiro-niisan? it would-"
"I can't. I'm technically not blood related to father" sometimes Ren forget that fact "beside I have someone that I loved already" Ren saw his brother smile sadly. he doesn't know about that. he thought his brother only care for his works.
"cant you just told hijirikawa that we called off this arrange married?" the thought of masato married with his brother terrified ren. first, it sure would be awkward to have your what? did they were even a thing back then? whatever it is. he can't imagine it. second, if there's a person worst than him it would be his second brother. jinguuji tsubaru. the one who teach him everything. who makes him like he is now. if Ren only flirted with girls. his brother would flirted with either guy or girls openly. and somehow he didn't like the thought masato being played by his brother.
"we can't do that Ren. can you imagine how it will put shame to hijirikawa side?"
"will he.. hijirikawa even accepted it even if it's with tsubaru nii?" Ren asked unsure
"hm.. I don't know about that. the offer when I told them is to have arranged married between you and masato. it sure would be problem but once we explain more I hope he would still accepted it. after all it's a will by both of our side" hearing that really makes Ren realized something. _of course that is it. why are you Thinking so hard Ren. the answer is right in front of you. what exactly you hoped?_
"I'll do it then"
"well that's good then we won't have problem. next time you come with me to hijirikawa residence Ren to talk more about this"
"yeah yeah" Ren stand to leave the room and go back to his room instead. once he arrived at his room he's laying on his bed. _really, what's you hoped Ren?_ he laugh sadly.
"isn't it funny you have to marry me for the exact same reason as you leave me, Masa?" and he closed his eyes to tired for thinking anymore.
4. Chapter 4
Ren remember the first time he met hijirikawa masato. it's just usual party his parents held. he really bored back then, ranmaru the boy who always played with him at this kind party somehow didn't attend it tonight. he getting tired of those women who keep pinch his cheeks or just pretend praised him since his parents is around. that's why he wondering around at the end of ballroom. that's when he saw little masato by himself on the back. he approached him right away. at first masato hesistant to follow him. he even a little scared. but after a little provocation finally masato wants to go with him. Ren and masato go around explore the house. more like Ren show off his house. he taught masato is bored type since he keep silent the first round but when he told him that he played music masato eyes become sparkling and he told Ren how he liked music too. he told Ren he can played piano and next time they should play together. listening masato talks really fun. moreover when masato first time smiling. it's like Ren found some treasure and since then he decided that he'll makes masato smile again. |
cfde65ca232c4177aea4c9bd8dc91095 | ['de55589ae1144a67812862cb3200fd3e'] | It took Jane two minutes to text Maura that she usually had weekends off because she was just as excited to have a day to get to know the kids she’d just found out were hers. That night, as she laid awake in her bed, she basked in the events of the day. That morning she’d woken up and left her house childless and prepared to catch criminals, and then the day had ended with her being an apparent mother of two. That high had disappeared as soon as she remembered she had to somehow break to her family that she had children. This was why, at the moment, Jane was doing everything in her power to avoid Angela Rizzoli. She’d get up early and sneak past the Cafe before anyone could spot her. Jane had been doing this for the past three days, and it’s been working.
At least until today.
Jane had successfully made it past the precinct cafe and into the elevator without hearing the sound of her mother’s voice screaming her name. That was a good sign, or at least she thought it was. As the brunette rode the elevator happily up to her floor, feeling a little proud until she walked to her desk only to find her mother standing right next to it. Jane quickly spun around, trying to escape, but she was too slow.
“Jane!” Shit. “Come over here, honey. I think you have some explaining to do.” She was going to die. Jane sighed and walked over to her desk, taking a seat and pulling out the paperwork she had yet to do from her arrest the previous day.
“I’m a little busy today, Ma.” She wasn’t really. After she finished the paperwork, she could go home right when five hit on the clock, but it was a last attempt to avoid this conversation. “Shouldn’t you be at work, too?”
“Oh no, Jane Clementine-” Her mother’s rant was only interrupted by Jane’s reprimand of ‘Ma!’ “Rizzoli. You’ve been running away since I first saw those kids, and I want an explanation.”
“What kids?” Oh god, not Frankie too. She couldn’t take all of them at once.
“Not right now, Frankie!” She hissed. “Go away.”
“Don’t shoo your brother away, Jane! We both need to know what’s going on.” Jane took a deep breath. Might as well rip off the bandaid.
“Six years ago, I met a woman at a bar. We did what adults do,” A soft ‘gross’ from Frankie had her rolling her eyes. “And now I’m a mother to twins.” It was the very watered down, one night stands for dummies version of her and Maura’s relationship, but it seemed to be effective because Frankie and Ma were out of it. Jane looked at her mother, who looked peeved at her.
“A one night stand, Janie? I raised you better than that!” She yelled, hitting Jane over the shoulder.
“Ow, Ma! It wasn’t like that. I was real bad after Frost passed and…” More silence ensued, and Angela’s angry expression faded into a somber one. “And it wasn’t one night. It was a weekend.” She grinned, and Frankie mirrored the expression as their mother rolled her eyes.
“So, you have kids?” Frankie asked. Jane softened at the mention of them. Her kids. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
“Yeah, Madison and William, They’re really sweet.”
“What about your baby momma?” Jane rolled her eyes at her partner’s voice.
“You eavesdropping, Korsak?”
“Of course not. I just happened to hear something about you and kids and put two and two together.” That was bullshit. “Anyway, their mom.” So nosy, but in his defense, her mother and Frankie looked just as curious about the unknown woman.
“Please don’t tell me she was some random hussy from the street.” Her mother pleaded. Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her patience wearing thin.
“No, Ma! Maura isn’t like that. She’s…” Jane paused. She couldn’t really think of a word to explain Maura. Jane must’ve been spaced out too long because she could hear Korsak’s laugh coming from next to her.
“Must’ve been some weekend.” He expected Jane to blush or throw something at him, but instead, the contemplative look on her face stayed there.
“It was.” She spoke softly. “And Maura’s nothing like that. She was a doctor at Boston General when I met her, but she’s a professor now. She’s real smart.”
“You had kids with a doctor! I’m so proud.” Her mother sniffled.
“Don’t cry, Ma! Also, tell Tommy to give me my money back from our bet ‘cause technically I was the first to have kids. So in his face.”
“Oh, Janie. I never thought you’d have kids. With this job and your horrible taste in men, I thought-”
“Yeah, I think that’s enough. You wanted grandkids, and now you have three so, cut me some slack.” She huffed. “Get Frankie a date. He’s the one who’s all alone.”
“Hey! Jane shrugged.
“Now, you know. Will all of you leave me alone and let me do my work?” They grumbled, but ultimately all began to go their separate ways.
“You should invite them to dinner on Sunday. They are family now.” Her mother added.
“Wow, Ma. That’s actually a good idea.” Angela grinned.
“It happens.” With that, they all got back to work.
~R&I~R&I~ | ef4053e8130c4e4d9e022c05168c1cd2 | ['de55589ae1144a67812862cb3200fd3e'] | God, she was an idiot. Steve had trailed her all day, trying to get her to talk to him. Okay that was a lie. She had been avoiding him all day but that didn’t make her any less of an idiot. Why did she have to kiss him? Things had been perfectly fine before she decided to do that. They had been solid and friendly before she decided to kiss him. Nat sighed before her thoughts begin to drift back to the kiss. His lips had been so soft and plump just as she expected and the way he looked after,all disheveled and lustful made her shiver. She shook her head before continuing to get dressed. They had a good hour before the gala and she needed to look her best if she wanted to catch his attention. Nat curled her hair and did her makeup before walking to the closet to grab her dress. She wasn’t much of a dress girl but she had to admit this one wasn’t that bad. She slipped it on and threw on some heeled sandals with it. Nat looked at herself in the mirror before she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find Clint looking particularly handsome in a clean cut tux and his hair gelled up. She smirked.
“Now don’t you look fancy. Laura’s going to be pissed when she finds out you dressed this nice and it wasn’t for her.” He smirked.
“She gets her own private show when I get home anyway.” Nat made a face before walking down the hall and to the elevator. They rode down and walked out of the double doors.
Steve looked up as he heard footsteps and felt himself grow speechless at the sight of her. Nat was wearing a sparkly asymmetric champagne colored gown. It had a slit that showed off her legs and left one arm sleeveless. On her arm was a gold cuff. Steve gulped at the sight of her. She looked so beautiful and the light from the hotel cast an ethereal glow around her. She looked like an angel.
“Steve? Steve!” Steve looked up to find Clint grinning at him. He knew something. Steve climbed into the driver’s seat as clint and Nat slipped in. There was no way he would let Thor drive. Steve revved up the engine and drove them to their destination. Nat climbed out of the car and took Clint’s hand as they walked inside. The comma in her ear buzzed and out came Tony’s voice.
“Look at you, Nat. All done up. Where’s the blood?” Nat could feel his grin. She caught sight of him in a crisp blue suit across the room.
“Don’t worry there’ll be some soon enough. If it all goes to plan this dress will be red by the end of the night.”
“Scary.” He mumbled and Nat smiled. “Someone thinks you look awfully nice in that color though.” He said. Nat looked up to find Shostakov eyeing her hungrily. Clint separated from her and begun to flirt with some other girl. She pretended to be upset and made her way to the bar. She sipped on champagne and sighed.
“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing drinking alone?” Nat turned to find Shostakov standing behind her and pointed at Clint, who was now flirting with some blonde. She giggled as he whispered into her ear.
“He’ll probably take her back to our room and do what men do.” She said. Her thick Russian accent coming back.
“He’s a fool of he can’t see what he has.” Nat turned and gave him a sad smile.
“You flatter me but maybe papa was right. Americans are no good. I should have stuck to Russians.” He let out a laugh and stepped a little closer to her.
“You’re right. No Russian man would pass you along for another woman.”Nat leaned a little closer and licked her lips.
“You speak facts. I like that in a man.” She gestured for more champagne and clinked glasses with him. They spoke for a while. She took glances at Clint to set the guy off. He needed to make a move already.
“Why are you here tonight, Natalya?” She turned to him and smiled.
“I’m afraid I’m not here for the best reasons.” He looked up at thins comment. Nat smirked to herself. The spotlight was finally on her. “I’m a...collector of sorts and a friend told me there would be some priceless objects to be bought tonight.” He hummed in acknowledgement.
“What exactly is this priceless object?” At that Nat beamed.
“Apparently a metal that is undetectable and unbreakable. Said to be the strongest substance on earth. I saw the pictures and thought it would look good next to my chitauri helmet.” He gave her a surprised look and she smirked.
“I like to collect things that people would believe to be unobtainable. Think of it as a hobby.” He gave her a look before casting a glance at Clint. “Thinks we’re here for vacation and that the gala happening was a coincidence.”
“There are only a few buyers and I haven’t seen your name on the list.” He said, suspiciously. She shrugged. She was relieved he finally began to talk about the buy.
“I only put in my bid yesterday.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“The others have been putting in their bids for months. What makes you think you can get it after only one check.” Nat put down her glass and leaned towards him. Only millimeters away. She placed a hand on his chest.
“I was hoping to put in a little something more.” He gave her a lustful look, ready to kiss her until she pulled away. “With your boss of course.” This gave him pause and he fixed himself.
“What do you mean?” He asked. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was a bit nervous. |
1054638c26374b549af17717ad1ba0f6 | ['de688985c3b14463b7fcdf02535e8528'] | "Non, I am not Jefferson, even though people say I do look like him. What happened with the fuckboy anyway?" I puffed and pouted my lips. "Well, first, he ran into me when I went to get help, called me a "fucking immigrant" then I asked who he was, he said Jefferson, I knew I was in big shit and now basically he hates my guts." I said in one go. The guy who opened the door, I presume he is French, just laughed some more. "He does that every year, come inside! I'm guessing you're my new dorm mate?" I nodded and walked inside, only carrying a backpack. "Is that all you have?!" He screeched at me. Two guys who were on the couch looked at me when the French guy said that. One of them, looked tall built and had a red bandana around his forehead. I could tell instantly that he may look tough on the inside, but he is a softie. And the person next to him, oh man, I couldn't describe him. His freckles were scattered on his face like an artwork, his curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. I continued daydreaming about him until my room mate coughed. "Uh yeah..." I looked down and did a slightly awkward shuffle. "Mon ami, we need to get you some stuff!" "YESS! I can get another dress!" The guy with the bandana commented. I looked over at him questionably and the French guy introduced them.
"This is-" "HERCULES MULLIGAN!" "Don't fucking interrupt me!" He gestured to the guy in the red bandana. "As I was saying before, this is Hercules, and he is a dick." "Oi man! That's not nice" Hercules walked over and kissed the French guy on the cheek. "So, er, you guys are dating?" I questioned. "Oui! I am gay, and Herc is pansexual." "Ok! I'm bisexual, just so you know." I said, whilst looking at John.
* * *
**John's POV**
"Ok! I'm bisexual, just so you know." The new guy said, whilst staring straight at me. Now I could feel a blush forming. I quickly looked away and played with my hands. I could see Lafayette smirking and looking at me. "And this is-" "Laurens. John Laurens." I held my hand out for him to shake, and he held my hand a little longer than I expected. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He nodded my head at me and I could feel myself blushing even more. "Oh, come on! He gets a comment and I don't?!" Lafayette walked over to Hercules and whispered something in his ear. I heard a collective ohhhhh and then Laf turned to the immigrant. "And moi, I am Gilbert de Lafayette, but just call me Lafayette." "Well, er, I'm Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton." I gasped, in utter amazement. "So you're the kid who got the full scholarship!" I kind of yelled at him. I mean I couldn't help it, I was excited for him! "Yep, that's me. I'm pretty famous here I'm guessing." Alex said whilst smirking. "Yep man, everyone knows about you." Hercules told him.
"Well, er, what were you guys doing before I kindly intruded?" "Oh well, we were just watching some Scream Queens on Netflix, even though Herc hates it!" "Oh, can I join you guys?" "Sure!" I added a little too quickly than I should have. Lafayette and Hercules looked at me again and smirked. "What?" I added and quickly looked back at the television. Alexander sat on the couch right next to me, and Lafayette and Hercules sat on another couch next to ours. "Well, what are you majoring in Alex?" I asked him, and he blushed a little at the name. "Well, im majoring in Law and Literacy." "Two Majors?! That's a lot man!" Hercules yelled. "Heh, yeah I guess. I got a really high score apparently when they read my extract... but well, what do you guys major in?"
"Well me, I'm majoring in Fashion Design!" Hercules looked pretty darn excited about that. "And me, I'm majoring in Literacy as well, specifically French Literacy." Lafayette concluded. "And me, I'm majoring in Marine Biology! I just love turtles man!" I continued to ramble on about turtles until Lafayette had had enough. "Ok! We get it John! You like turtles... would you like to go out or something?" Lafayette asked. I had a think, well we can't really go anywhere else but the bar... "The literal only place we can go is the bar." I told them straight forwardly. "True mon ami, well, let's meet up here in 30 minutes and go?" "Sure man, we'll be back! Love you!" I stood up and gave Alex a quick wink. "See ya later Alex!" I said and walked out the door, closely followed by a smiling Hercules.
* * *
**Alexander's POV**
"Well well, mon ami, what was all of that about with our dear Laurens?" Inquired Lafayette, a smirking one at that. "Well uh, ikindoflikelaurenswellactuallyithinkilovehimandidontknowwhattoweartoimpressim." I said in a rush, and was quite puffed out honestly from that sentence. "Ah ha! I knew it! Well, you sir, are lucky you have a proud French in your dorm! I'll make you look causal yet formal!" "Oh well, ok, but I don't have any clothes other than this..." "What?! Where were you living?!" "The Caribbean... Where the hurricane hit..." "Oh, mon ami, I'm so sorry. You can borrow some of my clothes!" This was when, havoc wrecked our dorm. Clothes were flying everywhere, hair stuff was everywhere. Basically it looked like Dance Moms was here. | 969f8b56b56041b2b915ef37527a7c63 | ['de688985c3b14463b7fcdf02535e8528'] | “Well, I’d like you to corroborate some statistics that everyone here has been working on…” Ludwig told him. ‘The work that I’ve been working on…’ Arthur thought to himself as he groaned internally. Of course, no one admitted it was him who had been doing all the work.
“I’ll do exactly that sir…” Arthur looked back up at him quickly and back down. Ludwig cleared his throat and looked down at Arthur.
“We’re going now, so you should definitely get prepared…” Arthur sprang out of his seat and neatened his work uniform, throwing on his blazer and clutching all of the work he had completed for the assignment close to his torso. Ludwig gave him a nod and patted him on the back again.
“You can wait and be seated in the press room in the front row, it is reserved for all staff other than the Mercury 7.” Ludwig led him towards the room, Arthur nodding along with everything he said. “I anticipate you to be on your best comportment, as you are our representative for the labor that we have done so far.”
“I understand sir…” ‘The labor that I have done so far’. He didn’t risk saying what he thought, he knew it would be discourteous to say to his manager. That didn’t stop him from saying it to anyone else though. After all, the only reason the work was finalized was because of him.
In no time, they had reached the press room and Arthur was already a nervous mess. All of this would be publicized on live television for all to see. “This is where I depart, don’t mess it up for us Arthur.” Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat down.
“I won’t sir.” He pushed through the door and strode straight to a seat in the first row, trying not to draw any notice to himself. He tapped his fingers in a rhythm on his work, as he recited over everything again and furrowed his eyebrows. As he did this he sensed a individual's pair of eyes trail on him and then sit down right in the direct seat across from him.
“Ahh Angleterre, how are you today?” Arthur groaned and looked into the pair of eyes. He didn’t want to deal with him today, or any other day to be exact.
“For the last bloody time, it’s Arthur – not Angleterre. Just because I come from England does not give you the right to call me that. Just leave me alone, you bloody frog.” Arthur directed his focus back to the work in front of him and tried to concentrate again.
“And I have told you, it is Francis – not frog. It’s good that you’re actually out and about around here for once. Why are you?” Francis leaned back on his chair and looked towards the front.
“I am here because Mr. Beilschmidt entrusted me with informing the public about what we have done so far…” He gritted his teeth when he said the word ‘we’. He detested having to lie about it being his own work.
“Well, I bid you good luck.” Francis turned back to the front. “Oh look, they’re here, the Mercury 7.” Arthur elevated his eyes towards the door as it was pushed open, and a group of seven men walked in and all cameras were diverted to them.
But one man, out of all of them, stood out to Arthur. He was young – he looked like he was roughly around his twenties, and he walked like he had a sense of idiocy that lingered over him. Arthur scowled as the man’s eyes directly looked into Arthur’s. He then, unexpectedly, grinned and winked at Arthur. Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as he turned away from him and focused his attention elsewhere.
As they all sat down, he turned his eyes back to the front, staring straight at the man. “Good evening ladies and gentleman, as you know, we are here to inform you about the Project Mercury missions that will be occurring that we currently know about – Redstone 3, 4, 6 and 7. Let’s introduce the participants in front of us today.” Ludwig addressed the camera and then sat back down, calming Feliciano down who was leaping in his seat.
None of the other names meant anything to Arthur. He just let them fly by his brain as he waited in anticipation for one particular name to be called out. He didn’t know why, he just had to know the young man’s name. “I’m the hero, Alfred F. Jones!” Alfred grinned at the cameras. And in that moment, Arthur knew, that he needed to talk to him. |
08277edd278344f1810e72be95e10128 | ['de7b8fe39ed94bb2b17964dcf814314a'] | Just as Izuku tries to speak, a knock comes at the door. It’s Todoroki. With silence heavy in the air, Izuku opens the door to reveal said boy in a black suit with accommodating red dress shirt and tie. His face was beautifully adorned with a white and gold mask hiding half of his face. Todoroki smiles widely to see Izuku dressed so nicely. He extends his hand out to reveal a black mask with silver studs around the eye holes.
“Ready to go?” Todoroki asks, taking his hand.
“Yeah…” Izuku takes it as he crosses the doorframe.
As he turns to shut the door, Izuku makes eye contact with his roommate. The amount of hurt in his eyes made Izuku’s heart sink. ‘ _ No… Don’t look at me with those eyes…’ _
“I-I’ll see you later, Kacchan,” he manages to utter.
“Yeah,” Bakugou responds with disappointment.
* * *
Todoroki’s vehicle pulls up in a sea of Benzs, Maseratis and Bentleys lined up in the roundabout in front of the Todoroki household. Looking through the windows, a large amount of people fill the bottom floor, their shadows laughing and smiling through the curtains.
Izuku and his date walk up to the massive door in between two large pillars, making Izuku even more uneasy. ‘ _ It’s bad enough Kacchan keeps popping in my head, but now I have to keep myself from gawking at everything.’ _
_ “ _ Don’t worry, you’ll be with me all night,” Shouto smiles reassuringly.
He nods in response and on they go to the very first encounter of meeting Todoroki’s family. Thankfully, it seems to be his sister.
“Ohh Shouto, who’s your friend?” She asks teasingly.
“Fuyumi, this is Midoriya Izuku, he’s someone I’m seeing at the moment,” He responds matter-of-factly.
Izuku panics internally, ‘ _ Didn’t expect him to say that.’ _
_ “ _ How do you do?” Midoriya says, extending his hand forward.
“Nonsense!” She replies as she slaps away his hand and pulls him into an embrace.
“Any friend of my little brother is a friend of the family!”
Just as their tender embrace comes to an end, a rush of silence overcomes the crowd. The echo of footsteps fills the room, every creak from the floor and every agonizing step is heard. Izuku looks to Todoroki face looking sour as ever. With a quick grab and squeeze of Izuku’s hand, Shouto has his head held high, making eye contact with his worst enemy… his father.
“Shouto, what is this?” His father asks, “And where’s your lovely girlfriend?”
“We broke up.”
“Such a shame, Ms. Yaoyorozu was perfect for you and her family would’ve been a great asset,” Todoroki Enji turns to return to the other side of the party.
As if on cue, everyone returns to normal. Although the sound of the partygoers begins to pick up, the last thing that his father uttered hung heavy in the air, “I’ll be waiting for this little phase of yours to be over.”
It’s as if a switch went off in Todoroki’s brain as he tugs Izuku’s hand towards the blocked off staircase to the side of the living room. His eyes are fierce through his mask - a look that makes Izuku shiver.
“Are we allowed up there?” Izuku asks nervously.
He doesn’t answer. The half and half boy unhooks the chain, leading the both of them on the opposite side. In a blink of an eye, the two stand in front of a pair of white double doors, only to shortly discover this seems to be a rather large bedroom.
“Who’s room is this?” Izuku asks, taking in his surroundings. He walks around experimentally. The room is crisp and clean - too organized to be home-y. There are few personal items.
“My father’s room.”
Izuku’s head snaps back to look at Shouto. His mouth opens to form a question but lets it die in his throat. He glances at one of the few photos in the room which sits on a bookshelf. It’s a family portrait - Shouto stands with his father in a mix of his other siblings and an older woman Izuku assumes is Shouto’s mother. Todoroki walks towards Izuku slowly, standing at his back and running his hands over Izuku’s arms and down his sides. He leans and places a small kiss into Izuku’s hair.
“Why did we come up here?” Izuku finally asks. He turns around and Shouto’s hands shift, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Shouto kisses him again, this time on Izuku’s forehead above the mask. Izuku closes his eyes. “Shouto, why did you bring me up here?”
“He can be so cruel.” Shouto murmurs, leaning forward and resting his head on Izuku’s shoulder in a deep hug. “So, so cruel, and he doesn’t even care that he’s doing it.”
Izuku wraps his own arms around Todoroki, stroking his back gently. “I know you don’t like talking about him bu-”
“I hate him. I hate everything he is and every part of him that’s in me.” His hands gripped Izuku’s suit jacket.
Izuku pulled away to look at Shouto. His hand cupped Shouto’s cheek, ‘ _ He looks so hurt…’ _ “You are not your father. Your passion is your own. Your interests are your own. No one but you decides who you get to be in this world.” Izuku hesitates. He hesitates for a long while internally arguing with himself. On the outside, the two of them look at each other like they’re truly alone, like there’s no party downstairs, like they could be anywhere on the planet and it’s just the two of them. Izuku stops hesitating and leans forward. His lips initiate contact with Shouto’s. They’re both uneasy. It’s soft and sweet and gentle but it’s not okay. Still, Izuku’s glad he did it. “And I think right now, the person you are, is someone I could very much fall in love with…” | 0b4c2db052c747acbb30d60dd48d42b7 | ['de7b8fe39ed94bb2b17964dcf814314a'] | Shouto dug his fingers into the pale flesh of Izuku's ass. He rolled his own body in time with Izuku's and watched the pleasure play on Izuku's face. ‘ _ I could love him forever.’ _ Shouto smiled and suddenly sat up. He turned them over and Izuku landed on his back with a giggle.
Todoroki reposition himself and started thrusting slow and deep into Izuku, hitting all the right places. Izuku gripped the sheets and let out a low moan. “You sound so good for me, baby.” Shouto whispered as he pulled out painfully slow. He paused and Izuku opened his eyes just as Shouto thrusted into him sharply.
“Oh! Fuck.” Izuku whined.
Shouto smirked and repeated the action, pulling out slowly and harshly thrusting in again. He leaned down and latched his mouth onto Izuku's throat, sucking and biting roughly. Todoroki’s own eyes closed as he really started to feel everything. Izuku felt so good, his skin was soft and smelled like his body soap. Shouto grabbed Izuku's wrists to pin him where he was.
This felt so right - to be here with Izuku. Their bed was so soft and big and perfect. Perfect for the three of them actually…
Without his permission, Shouto's mind wandered. There really was enough room for three of them and Shouto couldn't help but wonder what that would be like. He imagined the feather-like touch of Katsuki's fingertips on his back. To look up from Izuku's blissed out expression and meet Bakugou's lust-filled ruby eyes. To lock lips in a kiss and stroke him off with a free hand, maybe one of Katsuki's hands would snake into Izuku's hair and pull gently. Maybe they would change positions. Todoroki thought about how good it would feel and look if he took Izuku from behind and watched Katsuki fuck the green-haired boy's throat.
A sharp cry from Izuku and a warm sensation on his stomach brought Shouto back to reality. Izuku came as he whined, grinding his ass down onto Shouto's cock and Shouto let go of Izuku's throat. There was a dark purple mark there the size of a quarter.
Shouto blinked for a second before pounding into Izuku to chase his own orgasm. Izuku's flushed and spent expression made Todoroki smile. Izuku whimpered as he took Shouto's cock hard and fast, and he groaned with Shouto as he came.
They finally wound down and Shouto pulled out, only to collapse next to Izuku on the bed. Izuku instinctually curled into his side and Shouto's hand moved up to sweep Izuku's hair out of his face. He kissed Izuku's forehead and looked up at the ceiling as he caught his breath. It was quiet between the two and Shouto's mind started wandering again.
He pictured all three of them in bed together, cuddled up, limbs entangled together after something like this. That maybe later that night, he and Bakugou could cook dinner together for Izuku if things were different. They'd play music and sway their hips in time to the beat, dancing around each other to get ingredients or utensils - if things were different. They'd cuddle up together again that night and fall asleep together with lazy kisses and ‘I Love You's - if things were different. But they aren't. And that does make Todoroki’s heart ache. Because that can't happen.
* * *
The project was now completely finished and ready to present for the next class. Shouto kissed Izuku goodbye and began his walk to his room. As his journey continues, he sighs. ‘ _ This is definitely getting to be too much for me, I need to tell Izuku what’s been happening…’ _
He pulls out his phone and begins to type to Izuku. Just before he could finish the first sentence, he notices a puff of blonde out of his peripheral at the coffee cart near the food court. It’s Katsuki. He walks towards him anxiously, ‘ _ Okay, just ask if we can talk in private. That’s it, that’s all you have to ask and then just tell him how you feel… One, two-’ _
“Are you fucking kidding me, you guys had sex? In _ our _ bed?” Katsuki yells.
Luckily the food court was about empty besides the person working at the coffee stand, obviously trying to look away at the situation.
“W-What?”
“You need to fix your hair before you walk out like that,” he snarls.
Todoroki winces, ‘ _ Shit, I didn’t know I’d run into you though.’ _
”Look man, you’re messing everything up between Izuku and I by you just- being too fucking perfect. Like I can’t stop thinking about you! When I was sleeping with Izuku, you kept appearing in my fucking head, I’ve been waiting for Izuku to come back in my life and you and your pretty face has to waltz in here,“ Bakugou's hands find their way to his hair and pull in frustration. He groans roughly. “He was supposed to be mine! And- You know what? I don’t want to do this here.”
Even before he could speak, Todoroki just did what he was told and walked away in a huff. ‘ _ Well, I guess that’s out the window.’ _ He ruffled his hair as he stormed off.
He arrived home,closed the door and leans against it. He groaned and let his head fall back against the door with a thud. Closing his eyes, he thought. ‘ _ Ugh, having a crush on two people simultaneously? I don’t see how Izuku did this for so long.’ _
He quickly showered and decided it would be best to just probably sleep forever. He was bundled under his covers, thankful that Iida was out of the house so he could mope in peace. He had abandoned his clothes, save for his boxers and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't fighting to not tear up. |
1f8d59dfa2b0470a82e51521fb66543b | ['de845376b4c3423b8b9c8c2e4377dba3'] | On the morning of Lucy’s fifteenth birthday she and Jiya were sitting in her room coming up with plans for the day, knowing that her birthday would be ignored as it had for the past fourteen years. When suddenly her mother came strolling through the doors handing Lucy a box. A box which Lucy took and stared at confused.
“well come on Luceilia don't be rude. Open your gift” Her mother demanded prompting Lucy into quick action. Opening the box she found a riding habit, which only served to confuse her more.
“But mother, you know I don't know how to ride.”
“Well then its time you learned. Jiya, Get Luceilia ready she and I are going for a ride. Luceilia, I want you in the stables in half an hour.” And with that she was gone leaving a very confused Lucy and Jiya.
Half an hour later Lucy stood waiting for her mother in the stables trying not to go near the huge creatures she was supposedly going to be riding. While she was waiting, one of the groomers came in and gave her a brief lesson on how to handle the horses. It wasn't long before her mother arrived and ordered the groomer to bring out the horses. One a beautiful black stallion named midnight that Lucy recognized as her mothers horse but the other she had never seen before. It was a gorgeous white mare with startling emerald eyes.
“Happy birthday my darling, This is Anastasia and she is yours.” Her mother smiled at the beautiful creature.
“Shes perfect. But must I really ride her today? The horses make me nervous.”
“Honestly Luceilia! You must learn to Control these things and not let anyone or anything make you nervous or scared. You are a CAHILL now its high time you start acting like it. Come along we are going into the city.”
“Really?! But you never allow me to leave the palace!” Lucy was so excited she forgot her fear of the Horses and mounted Anastasia without further delay ready to see her kingdom. Their ride through the kingdom was nothing like she had imagined. Instead of a happy and joyful ride through town it was a very somber occasion. The citizens appeared to be frightened of her mother and of her by association.
“Mom, why does it seem like everyone is scared of you? I don't understand you are their Queen shouldn't the love you?”
“Luceilia they have a respectful fear. You see one day all of his will be yours to control. I am ready to start your training for that day. You will be a very powerful ruler but you need some instruction in that first. Right now you are too soft, too kind. You need to learn to be hard not let anything effect you. You must learn what it truly means to be a Cahill. And what it means to be your grandfathers granddaughter.”
“You mean Grandfather Capone?”
“Yes. He was a great man and the perfect King. Your Uncle Al is doing a wonderful job in his stead. They, along with Rittenhouse Royals of the past really knew how to control their people….”
“Control? I thought we were supposed to govern and protect our people not control their every move”
“Luceilia, my dear, you have so much to learn. It was our founder Kind David Rittenhouse who once said ‘ peasants are like the hands of a clock. Meaning peasants are no more capable of choosing their own path than the hands of a clock’ and we my dear are the clockmakers.”
“But that’s Tyranny.” Lucy said horrified of what her mother is telling her.
“That is life and the sooner you come around to that way of thinking the easier you life will be my dear. Now come its time to go home there is something I must show you.” Lucy was silent the whole ride back to the palace just listening to her mother tell her more and more about her Rittenhouse legacy. The more she heard about her ‘destiny’ the more she felt as though she was drowning. Then when they made it to Palace her mother took her up to the east tower, a part of the palace that was previously restricted to her. It was there that she saw books upon books of journals from each of her ancestors. Her mother took the oldest one, belonging to David Rittenhouse himself, and handed it to her.
“Here, read this and it will help explain a lot of our ideals and our goals in this life. Then once you have finished this one you may read through the rest of them. This is your legacy my dear treat it with respect.” Then she left Lucy alone in the tower to take everything in. After processing everything for about an hour and realizing she wants nothing to do with anything her family had planned for her she flees the tower in search of Jiya. She found her in her room which was next to her own.
“Jiya hurry and pack a bag, change into something to travel in we need to get out of here fast.” Lusy stammered out as she started throwing clothes at her best friend then running to her own room to do the same. Knowing not to question her best friend when she got this way Jiya just did as she was told and in no time the girls and Amy were on heir way to the stables. which is when Jiya stopped Lucy wanting to know what was going on.
“Lucy! Stop! what are we doing? This isn't our usual attempt to see the world.” | fa8ecc8bd3064ae897bc2f352c4625d2 | ['de845376b4c3423b8b9c8c2e4377dba3'] | “Inform Garcia that his Bride has returned. I shall be in the throne room awaiting his arrival.” Then I strode off towards the throne room never once looking back. Once in the throne room I sat on Queen Emma’s throne. If I am to pull this off I need to be a hardened royal. I need to be cruel and unrelenting. I need them all to believe that I came back to join them. I need to be the one thing I swore I would never be… my mother. So I sat there looking as high and mighty as I possibly could and waited for Garcia (and Emma, as I’m sure she would) to join me. Moments later Emma and Garcia entered the throne room. Both looking at me with distrust.
“So, what? Things didn't work out with Wyatt and you thought you would just come crawling back?” Emma was the first to speak.
“Hush mother, let her speak. Well Ceilia? Why have you returned to us?”
“I had never intended on leaving. I know my place is with you on the throne. I have accepted everything and was prepared to live the life that was chosen for me. Prince Wyatt thought he was saving me from you. I barely made it away from them. And your so called guards were of no use. I had to meet them halfway here.”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that you came back of you own free will? That you suddenly are ready to take your place? after all the trouble you have been putting us through?” Emma wasn't buying it. I really ned to step up my game. What would mother do in a situation like this?
“Are you questioning my loyalties? Me? Princess Lucielia Ann Cahill, Heir to Rittenhouse?! You DARE question me?!” I raised my voice to them as I have heard mother do on many occasions hoping against hope that it would work. Emma just smirked at me where Garcia looked at me very confused.
“Well, Look there. I suppose you are more like your mother than any of us thought. Very well the wedding shall be in three days time. Do not cross me Princess. I will be watching you and if you step one toe out of line I will have you liked away. Cahil or not.” Then she strode out of the throne room without another glance in my direction.
“Ceilia, are you really ready to become my wife? Or are you just putting on a show?”
“Garcia, I will never love you. However, I have learned that there is no escaping this and if it is meant to be then I will have an heir and our kingdoms will be united. Do not question my loyalties. I will do what I must because I am a Cahill that is all. Now I have had a very eventful day and am quite tired. I shall retire to my room now. Goodnight.” Then I headed to my room. They believed me on why I have returned and it is now time to put into place part two of my plan. Before Wyatt decides to try and follow me.
MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR
Meanwhile back in Egytopia Wyatt was also having an eventful day. Having woken up a bit later than usual Wyatt went straight down to breakfast. He was a bit surprised to not see Lucy but figured she had just already eaten and went out to her room looking for her there. When he still couldn't find her he began to get anxious. He searched everywhere until he finally found Rufus and Jiya walking in the gardens. Wyatt rushed up to Jiya demanding if she had seen Lucy. When Jiya wouldn't even look him in the eye he began to suspect something was seriously wrong.
“Jiya, what has Lucy done?”
“She made me promise not to tell you.” She holds out her hand to give him something. “She asked me to keep this safe for her but I think it is safer with you.” Looking in his hand Wyatt finds his ring that he had just proposed with.
“Where is she? Why do you need to keep it safe?”
“I can't tell you, I promised…” She has started to cry no and Rufus has begun to look very worried.
“Jiya, Honey. If Lucy is in danger you need to tell us so we can protect her.”
“Rufus, you don't understand. She thinks she can stop all of this.”
“Stop this…. DAMN IT! She went back didn't she? She went back to Masionia to try and stop things herself. I should have known she wouldn't give up so easily. She's to damned stubborn. And you Jiya! I cant believe you helped her. I thought at least you had more sense than that…
“Hey! Come on now Wyatt. You know there was nothing Jiya cold have done once Lucy made up her mind that she was going.”
“Im sorry Jiya. I know she's you friend and you were just trying to help her, but you should have come to me first. I could have stopped her.”
“I know Wyatt and I am so sorry but its done now and we are all standing around here talking about what we should have done but no one is discussing what we are going to do now.”
“We are going after her. I thought that was obvious?”
“Wyatt, you guys need a plan. Otherwise you might put her in even more danger. She went in there with a solid plan. She is going to convince them that she is on their side…”
“What makes you think they will ever believe she is with them?” |
ede4ff1d97d44a8490f70b509859da2e | ['de86d771528241c486bf3330e994b576'] |
1. Prologue: A Cold Grave
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A filled grave becomes an empty one.
>
> CW: mild claustrophobic imagery after the break. If that sort of thing bothers you, skip ahead a paragraph.
A cold wind swept through the open fields, dislodging wet snow from the swaying branches of evergreen trees along the pristine, white-covered road. The path, only visible because years of travel had eroded the dirt leaving banks on either side that now collected rolling snowdrifts, glistened in the moonlight that filtered down between disparate clouds above. There was nothing but stillness for miles; no birds above, no creatures moving in the snowy fields, not a living thing to disturb the quiet of the night.
And yet, in the distance, a bit of color, a bit of movement. The wind gust surged and rainbow fabric hanging on a haphazardly crafted marker billowed and threatened to tear from its wooden post. Truthfully, it was a miracle that the wind had not yet taken the cloth and cast it away, sent the garish robe off into oblivion to be forgotten like the grave it marked seemed to be. Beneath the snow, beneath the frozen earth, a corpse laid still and unmoving, wrapped in cold navy blue fabric that shimmered like the night sky above everything. Still, like the quiet snowy landscape encasing it.
Another blast of wind, stronger than the last, blew whiteness into the air, lifting snow from the ground and whipped it around and against the now quite weather-worn coat as it refused to budge from its sentry above the grave. Sleeves flapping in the wind like the beating of wings against the force that grew stronger still, unnaturally so, pulling more snow from the ground in its wake. The cold dirt beneath the whirlwind emerged, cracked and frozen, the edges of the grave still clear despite the time that had passed. All at once, the wind stopped.
All the snow that had been whipped up in its wake fell around the new open patch, piling banks around the perfectly circular space. Stillness returned to the area, just the snow, the stars, and the moon remained to keep watch.
The earth within the circle of snow grew dark and softened, the tightly packed earth expanding, becoming soft and pliable as though a fresh spring rain had just passed through. It shifted, swaying the now weathered branch, threatening to crash it to the muddy soil below. However, it did not fall, held fast while the ground around it seems to boil and writhe, green shoots curling out of the moist dirt around it. The stick itself almost seemed to breathe, the long-dead wood growing fresh with new buds sprouting from its bark and brushing against the shimmering crescent moons within the coat.
Then suddenly it all wilted, growing dull and dry, a mere husk of brown that snapped into pieces in the cold wind. It’s life thoroughly drained, the vines fell away against the moist earth below. The stillness returned. This time it remained.
[BREAK]
At first, there was nothing. Then there was cold and weight. Everything was so _heavy_. But what was heaviness? It had been nothing, then it was gasping and choking, not enough air, no way to move, a tightly matted _something_ wrapped around everything. Arms moved, frantically searching for a way out. They were able to find a way out of the _something_ (fabric, it was soft and woven _fabric_ he remembered) and were met with cold, damp, malleable earth. Mechanically, with little thought but survival, he clawed into the earth, pushing it aside and around and pulled. Dirt filled his nose, his mouth, his senses, and his chest grew tight. Panic, yes this was panic, that was something he was familiar with - fear. For agonizingly long seconds that felt like years, all his fingers found was more dirt.
Was this all that existence meant? Cold and fear and suffocation?
Just as his lungs were aching like they were filled with shards of glass and he thought he'd know nothing but that darkness, his hand felt the warm, moist ground give way to freezing wind. Desperately, he tore at the dirt around his arm, pulling his body up towards freedom. His shoulders squeezed through the opening with some effort, but once they had also been freed it was easy going. Well, as easy as crawling out of one's own grave could be. He scrabbled against the ground away from the hole behind him as far as he could before collapsing against his arms, panting to catch his breath. He still felt vaguely warm from the exertion, sweat ensuring that any mud stuck to him remained there when he dragged his sleeve across his forehead.
He winced at the sensation of grit against his skin, too much for a reason he could not understand, and glanced down at his arm. It must have been his arm because it moved when he wanted it to, but it was entirely unfamiliar to him. Actually, now that he thought about it, so was his shirt. And the filthy pants that covered strange legs that lay across alien ground. Where was he? Why was he here? His pulse pounded in his temple as he wracked his brain, but it was fruitless. All he got for his effort was a headache and frustration, another new emotion of which he had to keep track. He decided it was best to wallow in it for a moment, and rolled onto his back. | 578c3e4261274ae8b8b944208e5a39b2 | ['de86d771528241c486bf3330e994b576'] | "It ain't hide and seek Lucy," McCree drawled, the smirk audible even through the steel walls, "He doesn't even know we're playing. I just thought it was cute how he kept looking for me! Never woke me up, not once. Just found me, let out some kinda sigh, then walked off like he hadn't just crawled around a dusty storage room looking for me."
That was it. He didn't want to hear anything else. Jesse had been awake the whole time, watching Hanzo make a fool out of himself and laughing behind his back with his friend. The assassin didn't bother to keep quiet as he stormed back to his room. Let him hear. Hanzo Shimada was no coward who hid his intentions from another. He wanted Jesse to hear. Maybe he'd have the decency to feel like shit.
\----
He didn't go to dinner that night. He didn't train the next day. Instead, Hanzo kept to himself and meditated in his room. No one, especially not McCree, bothered him. It seemed they had learned better than to interrupt him while he was contemplating (which was in no way brooding). He did not brood, no matter what Genji suggested.
Instead, he focused on controlling and analyzing his emotions. If they had been anything as straight forward as anger caused by being embarrassed, he would have let it go or confronted Jesse about it. But that nagging tangle of red hot negative feelings that wouldn't go away kept him from doing anything. He couldn't understand it. It wasn't just that he was upset that McCree had been faking the whole time. He might have found that funny if he'd found out another way. Honestly, he'd been suspecting it since he found McCree curled up in an empty storage box in the range.
The fact that he was laughing about it with Lúcio didn't even upset him so much as it frustrated him. It felt like an invasion of his privacy. Their privacy. Like McCree had let Lúcio in on their own private joke and it ruined the fun. But that was stupid, and it made no sense. He shouldn't care. He didn't care. He knew Jesse well enough to know he wouldn't be laughing at his expense. And the young medic was far too kind to find humor in that sort of thing. Hanzo thought, at least. He, admittedly, hadn't spent much time with many people aside from his brother, Hana, and Jesse. So, the boy could have been a raging asshole once one got close to him for all Hanzo knew. Not that it mattered.
What mattered was how Hanzo couldn't focus on anything but the strange feeling like he'd been betrayed by McCree laughing and having fun with Lúcio.
He sighed and let his posture relax until he was slumped against the wall. Frustration. Betrayal. Anger. All over some stupid prank. Why did it matter? Why did he care? Why would he be bothered, not by the fact that he had apparently been making a complete fool of himself, but by the fact that Jesse was sharing that with another person?
Was he... Was he jealous? Why would he be jealous?
Yes, Jesse was his... friend. He supposed he could use that word at this point. Jesse was the person he'd spend the most time with aside from Genji. Probably even more than his brother, in all honesty. But he didn't feel left out or ignored. He felt like Jesse was sharing something private between them that hadn't even been a shared joke.
The confusion was even more frustrating than the initial feelings of jealousy.
\----
It wasn't until he'd given up on trying to meditate and laid in bed to try to sleep that Hanzo had an epiphany of sorts. There wasn't really any sort of reaction, aside from a disgruntled sigh and a slight widening of his eyes before they closed as he rolled them at his own stupidity.
He was jealous because he cared about McCree. More than as a friend. And this stupid game he'd been playing, mistakenly under the impression that he'd been the only one playing, was a sort of goofy secret between the two of them that had been satisfying his need to feel closer to the other man. It was a distraction he'd been pulling on himself to avoid admitting his attraction. Not that he wouldn't willingly admit that McCree was a ruggedly handsome man. But this was a different, less lustful attraction. Something that felt disgustingly soft. And, now that he'd opened that mental can of worms, he felt a whole new rush of embarrassing emotions come flooding up to the forefront of his brain.
Goodbye, good night's sleep. Hello, uncharacteristically present insomnia. |
b270a23896b94f7f8b5a9ca03bcee1c3 | ['deb0ba55f05f43e5b8c88b89bc80fc6f'] | So he sighed heavily and settled for staring at Marco instead. Not a bad past time, really. A couple minutes past without Marco looking up and Jean thought that was probably a good thing, because shouldn’t he really know what Jean looked like by now? It was only once the growing boredom began gnawing at Jean enough for him to start counting the freckles on Marco’s face that Marco spoke. “I can feel you staring, Jean,” he said, voice quiet, but obviously amused.
Jean only hummed in response, something that made Marco roll his eyes at how noncommittal it was, but not something that made him look up. Even when Jean started wiggling his feet in their position underneath Marco’s butt, the other boy pointedly ignored him in favor of the two-dimensional Jean in his lap.
Jean narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, something that Marco could see from the corner of his eye and recognized as Jean’s thinking look. And not thinking in the sense of actually thinking like a normal, intelligent person would do. No, thinking as in scheming or plotting, which was usually good for no one but Jean.
But Marco continued to simply ignore Jean in favor of sketching the shadows on his face. Jean, however, was a man who could only be ignored for so long, so when his attempts at disturbing Marco’s drawing continued to fail, he heaved a hefty sigh as he placed his guitar in its case, which was on the floor just beside him, and finally blurted, “Gimme your notebook.”
Marco, who had experienced dramatic situations such as this plenty of times before, simply quirked an eyebrow at Jean, not even paying him enough mind to draw his tongue back into his mouth.
Jean sat up, pulling his legs under him criss-cross style and he scooted closer to Marco on the couch, shoving his shoulder lightly as not to actually ruin his drawing. “C’mon, I’m serious. I wanna draw something for you,” he said, lightening his tone to try to coax Marco into conceding.
Marco at least picked up his head, finally, and looked over at Jean with a skeptical look in his eyes. His teeth tugged on his lower lip for a moment (something Jean took careful note of) before he shifted to face Jean a little, letting his legs fall from where they were huddled near his chest. He held his notebook out to Jean, saying, “Alright,” but held tightly to it as Jean went to take it from him. When Marco didn’t let go, the triumphant grin faded from Jean’s face. He opened his mouth to protest but Marco cut him off before he could. “On one condition,” Marco adds sternly, to which Jean slumps a little and sighs heavily. “Don’t peek at what I drew today. It’s not done yet.”
Jean brightened at this. That was it? That would be easy. Now that Jean had his own plan in mind, his curiosity regarding Marco’s sketches had diminished drastically. He eagerly took the sketchbook and the pencil from Marco and then returned to his previous position, this time stretching his legs out and putting his feet in Marco’s lap.
Marco accepted that graciously and settled into the couch to watch Jean work. It was very intriguing to see the different expressions scurry across his face. He went from grinning, to that concentrated scowl, to snickering to himself, to frowning as he erased and blew away the shavings, to copying (probably subconsciously) Marco’s tongue-out look all in a matter of minutes.
Idly, Marco’s hands drifted to Jean’s feet in his lap and began rubbing one carefully. It wasn’t something new; oftentimes they’d sit like this at night, especially when they were watching Game of Thrones (Jean flailed way too much during that for Marco to stand cuddling with him). Honestly, it was a habit Marco had picked up when Jean had continuously complained that his shoes hurt his feet and made them sore. Marco had tried to convince Jean to be sensible and simply buy new shoes, like a normal person, but that is an argument Marco will never win for reasons entirely unfathomable to him.
Other than a faint sigh of relief laced with sore pain, Jean didn’t react to Marco’s hands and continued hurriedly scratching away at the page before him. He would glance up occasionally, but never say anything, and Marco could only assume that he was being used as a model for Jean’s masterpiece. He didn’t mind, of course; he’d drawn Jean countless times so it was only fair.
Marco was very interested to see the outcome of this. Jean had doodled before, per request of Marco, but he was always very nonchalant about it and it was obvious that he had never really tried. He was always reluctant to draw anything, claiming to be a horrible artist, especially compared to Marco’s own talent.
It was a few minutes after Marco had moved his hands to Jean’s other foot that Jean was finally finished, grinning like a shot fox as he pulled his legs away from Marco and moved to his knees beside him.
“Are you ready to let me see?” Marco asked, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips.
Jean bit his bottom lip to temper his grin as he leaned forward, nodding. Marco thought that look was cute, but he still watched him with dubious eyes as he lifted the sketchpad to hold it just under his nose.
Jean had the perfect view to see Marco’s reaction up close and it. Was. Beautiful. There was a moment of confusion when Marco’s eyebrows drew together. That was followed by a moment of realization as his eyes went wide. And then -- and this was Jean’s favorite part -- Marco’s face settled on embarrassed as a blush crawled from his cheeks, all the way up his ears. | 438898c1f26b4c2ebe87bdb40b4e1ffe | ['deb0ba55f05f43e5b8c88b89bc80fc6f'] | “Okay, why don’t we move?” Taehyung suggests, taking Jimin’s hips in his hands and then walking on his knees, creating a silly image of him guiding Jimin over to the bathtub. “Get in.”
Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Huh? Why would we want to get in? It’ll seriously hurt my knees in there,” he complains, moving to kneel in front of the bathtub instead. “Why not like this?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the lip of the tub and looking over his shoulder at Taehyung.
Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s gonna hurt your knees just as much. In the tub, we won’t have to clean anything up, just rinse it away with the shower,” Taehyung argues.
“Yeah, but will we even fit?” Jimin asks, scrunching his nose a little. It’s a little baffling that they’re even having this conversation right now because shouldn’t they be a little more focused on the task at hand?
“Hmm, only one way to find out!” Taehyung chirps, giving Jimin’s ass a light slap to get him to move. Jimin pouts at him but complies, getting into the tub and making himself as small as possible. His head is propped up on his folded arms, which are crossed over the drain (which thankfully looks fairly clean) and he’s mostly concerned about hitting his head on the faucet when he sits up. His knees are spread as much as they can be in the space the tub allows and his ass is high in the air. God, he must look ridiculous. “Wow, Jim Jam, you look good like this. Have you ever thought about doing naked modeling?”
Jimin scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “Literally shut up. I swear to God I’m gonna lose my boner if you say another word,” Jimin mumbles, pouting intently at Taehyung.
Taehyung giggles (of course he fucking does, because what else would he do?) and then gets into the tub behind Jimin, hands immediately falling to Jimin’s ass. Not a second later he sighs. “Yeah, this isn’t gonna work.”
“I told you so,” Jimin grumbles. He wants to whine at Taehyung, complain about how it’s not fair because he could’ve just sucked him off and let him come but _noooo_ he had to have it his way and do all of this silly maneuvering and-- “Eek!” Jimin squeals as he’s hauled up and in the next span of seconds, he’s suddenly perched entirely differently in the tub.
“This is better,” Taehyung says, wiggling underneath him. They fit now, with Taehyung laying down in the tub and Jimin straddled across his chest, ass totally in his face while Jimin’s own face is practically nose-to-nose (metaphorically) with Taehyung’s still-clothed dick. He’d basically fallen face-first there and he’s really unsure of where to put his hands so he settles for the tub on either side of Taehyung’s narrow hips.
“This is like two percent better, Taeh-- _oh_.” With no preamble, Taehyung’s tongue runs along the length of his crack and it’s like every nerve he has is on fire, screaming for attention. The next time Taehyung’s tongue touches him, it’s a light circle around his rim, making him whine for more, burying his face in Taehyung’s hip.
“Were you saying something Jim Jam?” Taehyung asks, the breath from his words cooling the trail of spit over Jimin’s hole and making him shiver.
“Ugh, god, shut _up_ and just -- _please_!” Jimin gasps impatiently.
Taehyung laughs again but complies easily enough, nuzzling his face back between Jimin’s cheeks, which he spreads with his strong hands. Jimin’s thighs tense as he anticipates the next touch of Taehyung’s tongue. Taehyung doesn’t make him wait long, swiping a long, wet stripe over his hole before pushing the tip of his tongue inside of him.
Jimin groans and takes a bit of the fabric of Taehyung’s boxers between his teeth to stifle himself. Taehyung eats ass like he sucks dick, with the pedal to the metal and no holds barred. It’s a filthy, wet mess far too soon and Jimin resists the urge to dig his fingers into Taehyung’s legs just to have something to hold onto. It’s hard to restrain himself, really, but he doesn’t want to push Taehyung too far by moving too much. So he tries his best to stay still and stop squirming.
Taehyung eagerly fucks him with his tongue, pulling back to spit on Jimin’s hole. That has Jimin jumping a little in surprise. It should make him feel filthy, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel hot. So hot, in fact, that he pushes himself up with shaky arms and pulls his shirt off over his head. And this time when he leans back down, he pushes Taehyung’s boxers down enough to free his cock.
Taehyung hums against his rim before pulling back to talk. “Are you gonna suck my cock again, baby?” he teases.
“Tch, no,” Jimin bites back, even as he wraps a hand around Taehyung’s cock, squeezing lightly. “Maybe if you shut up and make me come, you brat.” Jimin bites his lip to keep his grin from growing too large.
Taehyung chuckles and says nothing else as he returns to his task, eagerly running his tongue over Jimin’s perineum and then around his rim before pushing back into him. Jimin clenches his teeth to keep from making a noise, but he can’t help the way his legs shake at the effort it takes to keep from rutting back against Taehyung’s face.
Taehyung must feel the tremble in his muscles because he pulls back again shortly after and says, “Don’t hold back, Jim Jam. Ride my tongue, if you want.” And then he places a big, wet kiss on Jimin’s hole.
Jimin keens at his words and if he was any less drunk, he’d probably at least stop and think about it, but right now he doesn’t, he just lets his body do what it wants as he pushes back against Taehyung’s tongue. |
8efa11a7b08a4aa9abf15cd8860c573d | ['debf8f7960064125942e84f6a7428743'] | Bakugou clenches his phone tightly before releasing it with a long sigh. Clearly, he's not handling his situation well enough for the boss to let him go today. Bakugou does an exemplary job and never gets put off because of how valuable of an asset he is to Plus Ultra. He needs to figure out everything before he gets fired. The blonde briefly looks to his phone to check the time. 1:37 pm. His meeting with Yaoyorozu is at 2 pm since she has work at 5 pm and he wants to gather as much information as he can from her before then. Bakugou makes his way to his bedroom to dress up, making sure to wrap a scarf around his neck to cover up his hickeys. Fortunately, the weather lately is chilly to pass the scarf as normal.
* * *
The bells on the coffee shop's door ring pleasantly as Bakugou enters and walks to the front to order a hot black coffee. He's still drowsy from his lack of sleep last night, so the caffeine might help pull him through this meeting.
The air smells like coffee beans, hot milk, and sweet muffins. There aren't many customers at this hour and Bakugou's relieved there isn't a rowdy crowd. People are quietly listening to their music and typing away on their laptops while others are on dates, leaning into each other's space to giggle and talk about sweet things. Aside from the couples, Bakugou finds himself relaxing in this atmosphere. As soon as he takes his drink from the counter, Yaoyorozu enters the shop in a very casual yet sophisticated dress with a cardigan and high nude wedges. She's holding a thick binder, which he assumes is her class notes and a small duffel bag, probably for her work clothes. She smiles excitedly at him and he scowls in return. Yaoyorozu orders herself some sort of passion tea, but Bakugou's not really paying attention. He's more interested in that binder of her's.
"Good afternoon, Bakugou." She exclaims cheerfully and Bakugou tenses awkwardly.
"Whatever. Let's sit somewhere no one's around." He turns without waiting for her. She scrambles to grab her drink and follows him quickly. They find themselves in a corner of the coffee shop with no one remotely close enough to eavesdrop in their conversation.
"I brought my class notes on merpeople. What would you like to learn about?" They settle down comfortably on the plush seats. Yaoyorozu's eyes are bright and attentive. Either she really likes these mythological creatures or she's just really excited to teach someone something let alone the fact that it's Bakugou of all people.
Bakugou sips at his coffee before responding, "Anything." Yaoyorozu furrows her eyebrows at such a broad answer so he adds, "Tell me about your project."
With that, Yaoyorozu straightens in confidence. "We were split into groups and had to do a presentation on a specific topic. Mine was about alphas and omegas."
"Alphas and what?"
"Omegas. It's the way merpeople live. It serves as a hierarchy of status but also mating." Bakugou leans forward slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. He's interested now so Yaoyorozu continues. "Both genders are split between alphas and omegas. Alphas are more dominant in power and have a higher status while omegas are more submissive and lower in status. Of course, in both divisions, there are more factors that affect the status they hold."
"Okay. Continue."
"There are four major physical proofs of distinguishing an alpha and an omega. One is the color of their scales." Yaoyorozu begins flipping through her organized binder until she stops at a page filled with rows of colors, pointing as she speaks. "Areas of black and/or white on their scales indicate they are alpha mermaids or mermen. It's extremely rare when both black and white are on them and they are considered the highest in their chain of power."
_Alphas have black scales..._ Bakugou briefly thinks about the pitch-black scales at the tip of Kirishima's tail and blushes a soft pink. He rubs his cheeks before taking another gulp of his coffee. "Okay, what else?"
"Alphas tend to have around 2-3 colors transitioning into each other on their tails and forearms, which are where their scales appear. Omegas, on the other hand, usually have about 4-5 different colors that don't necessarily blend into each other." She flips through her binder to show a beautiful mermaid with a mosaic of bright, vibrant scales decorating her tail and forearms.
Bakugou leans forward a little closer, placing his elbows on the table. "Alright. What's the second physical proof?" Yaoyorozu smiles at his eagerness and takes a quick sip of her tea.
"The second is the scent they give off. Their scent glands are on their necks. Alphas smell more dominant and masculine while omegas smell sweet and feminine.” Yaoyorozu holds up three fingers in the air, "The third is their physical build. Male alphas are usually bigger and own a large mass of muscle and females are strong and alluring. They both give off a sense of power and confidence. Male omegas are smaller and aren't as chiseled as alphas and females appear more soft and, well, bigger." Yaoyorozu blushes a little but Bakugou understands she means they have a huge rack.
The blonde scratches the back of his head in deep thought. _No doubt, Kirishima is an alpha. He fits every qualification to be one._ "What's the last one then?"
Yaoyorozu looks to the side before looking at him shyly. "The size of their genitals." Bakugou's eyes widen a little before looking off to the side as well. He tries to cover it by drinking his coffee again but Yaoyorozu notices. "Bakugou... If you don't mind me asking... Why do you want to know this? Does this have anything to do with what happened yesterday?" | fcb5a7be942f40269ff34d1dee303b1e | ['debf8f7960064125942e84f6a7428743'] | “Who the fuck just threw that?!”
“Prince Bakugou~ don’t waste your time with him. Choose someone else to give you a lap dance or something. Shitty Hair’s just a dumb slave here.” The outspoken prostitute from earlier fusses about how they were being treated unfairly and some drunk men whine alongside him, but Bakugou pays them no attention. He was watching the servant tugging at his hair to place them over his face and all the while rubs at his reddened forehead. The man tucks himself into the blonde’s side, burrowing in between the space of the prince’s arm and his upper body to try and hide from his oppressive fears.
He looked pathetically weak… and Bakugou hated it.
A steady glare fixes on the outspoken prostitute and the blonde speaks in a threateningly calm voice, “Why did you hit him?”
“It’s not fair how he’s hogging all of your attention. We’re here too, you know.”
“… And?”
“Ugh, Shitty Hair’s just a slave!”
“Do I look like I care? Piss off, skank.” Bakugou growls low and looks away, completely done with this conversation, but the prostitute just didn’t know when to stop and the blonde wasn’t exactly patient himself.
“But Prince Bakugou, there are plenty of cuter guys here-”
“ENOUGH!”
A strong fist slams down onto the thick glass table and it shatters loudly under the force, taking with it all the bottles of alcoholic beverages and porcelain plates the table held up and they all break into pieces as soon as they hit the ground. A mixture of gasps and screams fill the air and the servant lets out a yelp himself, cowering behind raised arms. Aside from the slow music still playing from the speakers, the room is silent and nearby prostitutes all cautiously scoot away from the blonde. With the table now gone, Todoroki’s deadweight nearly has him topple forward into the shards of glass, but he catches himself midway and drunkenly lifts his head up just enough to stare daggers at the prince.
“What the _fuck_.” His tone drips with venom and it was more of a statement than it was a question. A drunk Todoroki means an angry and difficult one and Bakugou had no intentions of dealing with him and neither did he want to stick around here any longer than he has been.
A heavy sigh leaves his lungs before the prince rises to stand as best as he could and he roughly pulls the redhead up on his feet as well, “Go get a room.”
“But I-I-I can’t...!”
“Why not?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m-I’m _really_ not allowed to.” The man begs and plants his feet on the carpet floor to stand his ground, but his efforts were in vain. Bakugou was much stronger than the redhead was and being drunk, he wasn’t able to properly control his strength. His grip on the servant’s arm tightens and he winces in pain before a whimper escapes his parted lips, “Please…!”
“I’m the prince of Velda. I’m the best guest you’ll ever have around here, so do as I say.”
Without a moment’s delay, the blonde drags the man off to a door on the side of the room and they stumble into a narrow hallway of smaller rooms. Bakugou shoves the servant into one of the unoccupied rooms and shuts the door closed behind him. Gingerly, the redhead turns around to face the prince and after hesitating for a few seconds, he approaches the larger man with his head held low. Bakugou gently runs his fingers through the man’s scarlet hair once more and he muses in the way it slips out of his hand like silk before the blonde wraps his arms low around the redhead’s lithe body, folding his hands on the small of the servant’s back.
“It’s nice and quiet in here, isn’t it?” Bakugou says with a slight giggle and he would’ve found it strange and embarrassing for being able to even do that, but he truly was looking forward to what was coming.
“Prince Bakugou, I really shouldn’t be doing this…” The man pouts in distress and though he was completely serious, the blonde could only think about how cute he was being until the redhead brings up another opportunity for him to run away, “Please, let me call someone else in to entertain you. I’m sure they’d be better-”
“No, I want you.” The prince digs his index finger into the servant’s sternum and gripes, “Why aren’t you interested in me like the others? You should feel lucky to have my full attention.”
“I-I meant no offense.”
“Then give in to me already.” Bakugou pulls the man in closer to press their chests flush together and whispers possessively into his ear, “You’re my trophy for tonight and I’m not going to let you go that easily.”
For just a quick moment, the prince releases his embrace to turn around towards the door and locks the barrel bolt as best as he could in his drunken state before returning back to his previous position. Bakugou hugs him warmly and he tilts his head with an expectant look, waiting for the man’s response.
Plump lips tighten into a straight line before the redhead lets out a long defeated sigh through his nose and averts his gaze off to the side in submission, “… I will do whatever you want, Prince Bakugou.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” A manic grin spreads wide across his face and the servant fidgets uncomfortably in Bakugou’s arms until he leans in for a kiss, to which the redhead obediently closes his eyes and follows the prince’s pace.
The touch is unfamiliar but not unpleasant.
Fleeting and feather-light.
Bakugou finds himself pushing for more of the softness and warmth of the servant’s lips, but everything is turning into a haze and he’s not really sure what’s happening anymore - his body leading him on and spellbound to the flow. |
444677a672684670aacd4cb4521c8df2 | ['dec1a3986cce4a7487513973ee06ac2e'] | The valve offered no resistance to his intrusion, just like the femme beneath him. She had stopped her weak attempts at harming him. Her hands reposed where he had positioned them as her body rocked slowly in time with his thrusts. Sunstreaker carefully lifted her hip to meet his thrust, the head of his spike massaging the lining to strike the cluster of nodes in the back of the valve. She gave an involuntary gasp as the nodes accepted their first charge, her fingers curling against his plating as she tried to anchor herself to him.
The femme silently cursed her traitorous body. It wasn’t wise to encourage an attacker, and if she wanted to survive this ordeal, she would have to remain obdurate to his advances. She sent a reprisal command to her body, but now that the charge was starting to build, her body stirring for the first time, there was no chance of ignoring the ingrain need for completion.
Though she was loath to admit it, he was being strangely gentle, a vast contrast to the first claiming of her body. She inwardly frowned, wondering why he was taking his time and showing such generosity.
Where was the callous, vicious intruder that violated her without hesitation?
Unable to look into his face, she couldn’t read his emotion, but if she had gazed into his optics, she would have been greatly surprised.
They were dark with arousal, but there was also a tenderness, and a true yearning to bring his partner to completion. And something else sparkling within the depths of the brilliant blue optics, though neither partner was able to voice its existence.
Her hand slipped from his shoulder, and out of instinct, her fingers found purchase along his protoform covering as he continued to move. He groaned above her, thinking her actions were in answer to his ministrations, and leaned over her body, his glossa teasing her lips before slipping inside and tangling with her glossa in a sensual dance, his weight dropping back onto his elbows.
She shook her head from side to side, trying to dissuade his affections, but Sunstreaker purred in her audio, “Take me.” He gave a languorous thrust, circling his hips slowly to stimulate all her nodes. “Feel me filling you, taking you to the edge.”
His transfluid reserves were empty from the first processor shattering overload. But as he continued his languid thrusting, he could feel the reserves building. When they reached their tipping point, he’d feel the charge signal its readiness for release. And with the wonderful sensations consuming his spike and spreading to encompass his body from the tight, perfect, beautiful femme, this overload was going to be the best yet.
Primus, he was so gifted. He felt as if he’d melt, forever sealing himself inside the femme and spending the rest of their existence in a state of endless pleasure. Sunstreaker’s spike throbbed in affirmation.
Sensations he never dreamt imaginable was caressing his body and filling his spirit. He was slowly being lifted toward the heavens, soaring high above the planet, this strange feeling keeping him aloft and overcoming his senses. His spark was singing a foreign song to the skies, the words unknown but the sentiment behind them giving them physical manifestation as he gazed down into the face of the femme whimpering in perfect time to his song.
He kissed along her neck murmuring words of encouragement as he felt her move against him. She couldn’t help it. The sensation was overriding all coherent thought. Her rational mind was tossed out the window while the evil, talented, attacker made her body waken to the oddest, yet overwhelming sensations, blacking out all thought processes. She tilted her head back gasping as the ceiling nodes were stimulated by his angled thrusting at her entrance, before filling her to the point of bursting. Sunstreaker took the opportunity to suck on the cabling along her throat. She gave a simpering whine in answer, her fingertips digging into his plating, encouraging him.
“That’s it,” he muttered into her audio, slowly burying himself inside her heat and circling his hips, stimulating more sensors with a lazy withdraw. “I want to watch you overload.”
Well, that wasn’t going to happen, the femme thought to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was appease her assailant. But still, she couldn’t control the charge that was building, and if he continued with his slow, gentle handling, she would undoubtedly overload. She cursed as she felt a coiling in her lower abdomen, signaling his effect on her body. She tried to think of a proper retribution against the betrayal of her body, but the next time he buried himself, she felt her core heat in the most exquisite pleasure that caused her body to twitch.
The slagging, glitched up fragger. If she ever encountered him again, she promised she’d end his existence, consequences be slagged! She would hunt down him, find him, and inflict the most…… Oh!
Just as revenge flared across her processor, her body trembled, disrupting her internal raging. She gasped, a small spasm rolling through her body and stealing over her as the charge increased.
Sunstreaker continued to move, his pace increasing when he felt the friction shift to a higher charge. Primus, she was really responding to him.
The femme tried to hold her vocalizer, but the feeling of the spike almost pulling out before delving back into her valve was building the most delicious sensation. She cursed her valve and all the wonderful things it was currently doing to her self control. The spike acted as if it knew her body, probing the deep recesses and stimulating the sensors, a strange heat brewing in her lower belly. Whatever was going to happened, it was going to happen soon. She felt as if she was ready to burst. | cb1fb104a15f43b4bf361be40c4f2766 | ['dec1a3986cce4a7487513973ee06ac2e'] | Chief Vincent sent a text to Leonardo, telling him to take the rest of night off and let her division get caught up on paperwork the turtles had created with the criminals they apprehended. Though the turtles were more than welcome to come to the precinct and do their share of the paperwork. Leo politely declined. He told Raph to head home, citing the need for some solitude before turning in. Raph narrowed his eyes, but disappeared without argument into the treeline. Donnie radioed ahead to tell them dinner was going to be pizza. Again. One had to love 24hr pizzerias.
When Leo was sure Raph had gone, he raced north toward May's apartment. It was 2:30am, and by luck, her light was on. Landing silently on the fire escape, he rapped on the window. May called the knock the _'Persistent Pigeon,'_ earning Leo's rich laughter.
Tap. Tap.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
When he noticed movement behind the curtain, he hopped up to the roof, hiding in the dark. The window opened and May's sweet voice drifted up.
"Leo? Is that you?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Leo answered, feeling heat creep along his cheeks. He still had moments where he resorted to being a gentleman instead of calling her by her given name. "What are you doing up so late?"
May sighed. He heard her shift her weight to sit on the casement. "Editor called and wanted to know if I can get this novel done in a couple of days." She hummed, squinting to the clock that hung on the wall. "And I've been at it since nine-thirty this morning. I'm almost done. Only a dozen or so pages left."
Leo admired her dedication. "Is it a good book?"
"Not really," she said flatly. "I guessed who the killer was in the first chapter. Big surprise. It was the pregnant girlfriend. Knew he was cheating. Killed two other people to hide her crime. Blah, blah, blah."
"Murder?" Leo inquired, finding it funny someone so timid could have such a bloodthirsty side.
"Probably my favorite genre," May admitted.
"What, not romance?" Leo wanted to kick himself the moment the words left his lips. Too bold. _**Way**_ too familiar. Totally inappropriate for the situation.
"Actually, I'd rather kill em than love em," May said, blushing a little at her audacity. To recover some of her dignity, she added, "I meant to say, relationships cause too much drama. And passion _ **is**_ the number one reason _**for**_ murder."
"Well, I would think finding the right person would eliminate the desire to kill them," Leo said offhandedly. Honestly, he had no clue. Romance was far from his mind, let alone be in his skill set. He was merely waffling on, hoping to fill any discomfiture with small talk.
"You obviously have never been in love."
Leo's shoulders slumped a little. No, he had never been in love. Highly unlikely he would ever experience such a thing. He and his brothers were unique. There were no others like them. Their lives were destined to remain alone, devoid of spouses and children. They only had each other to grow old with. Not that he resented his brothers. They were his family. He would always watch out for them, even if they grew so old they couldn't drag their own shell around.
"Leo?" May's voice called him from his melancholy.
"Sorry, thought I saw something." Leo lied to cover up his silence. "And no, I've never been in love. Not an option for someone who must live in the shadows."
May offered a noncommittal noise. After a long moment, she spoke. "But, doesn't even the shadows need light?"
Leo was about to speak when a heavy presence landed on his left.
"Well, well, well, lookie what we have here," Raph jeered, invading Leo's personal space to stare his brother down. "A ninja, breaking the rules."
"Not now, Raph," Leo snapped, anger overriding panic at being found out. "What are you doing here?"
"Me? I'm not here," Raph said, his face cracking into an evil sneer that made Leo turn cold. That look was never good. "I'm back at the lair. While you... you are out 'clearing your head' before returning to the lair to lecture us on stealth and the importance of never being seen."
"Raph, now is not the time," Leo reiterated, hoping his brother would exercise caution. His voice was too loud, putting them at risk of exposure. "Go back to the lair. I'll be there in a minute."
They circled one another slowly, neither backing down.
"Oh, really?" Raph scoffed. He was unperturbed about possibly attracting attention. "What? Don't want your brothers to know you have a girlfriend? Afraid I've found you out, _brother_." Raph growled the term as a curse, towering over Leo. "All this time, you drilling into our heads about honor and here you are, lying to your brothers. Again! Sneaking off to see this chick every time we go out. Don't bother lying to me. I know you've been coming here every night. And you have the balls to jump down **my** throat about responsibility and being too emotional?"
Leo wasn't to be intimidated. They continued to circle, neither giving ground or backing down. "It's not like that, Raph! She was attacked and hurt by three men. I only stop by to check on her. I'm concerned for her safety."
"Yeah, right! Leo, you're lying. To **me** _and_ to yourself," Raph said menacingly. "You're not dropping by her place to check on her. Not _**every**_ night. That's not concern, that's infatuation! You're crushing on some strange chick!" |
2260a4abc19a4b7cb2f94e687669a5a6 | ['ded98a1bfea743e1aec3f9a6dc82e4d8'] | “Look, I’m really bad at this and we’re all hungry,” Daisy began, “so I’ll keep it brief. As you know…I spent a lot of my life bouncing around from place to place. Being bounced, really, against my will. And even though a lot of that was done to try and protect me, it still sucked and I was still alone. I was alone, really, until I met you. And somehow, you loved me. You really did, both of you, and you welcomed me like I had never been welcomed anywhere before. You put your jobs on the line for me, and your lives, and even each other and…I mean, wow. That’s some dedication.” Choking up, she took a deep breath and skipped a few hesitantly planned sentences, jumping to the end.
“What I’m trying to say is I bounced around a lot and I burned a lot of bridges, or had them burnt for me, and I never went back. Sometimes because I couldn’t. Sometimes I didn’t want to. But not you. I always came back to you two, even when I didn’t want to – or maybe, when I didn’t know I wanted to. And you always had me back. And I think it was you, Fitz, who said the other day that no matter how something changes it comes from somewhere, it belongs somewhere. I come from Shield and I belong here. I belong with you. You two are my home and I hope you will be my home for a long time. I love you.”
She blinked, and Jemma took the open ring box and with her free hand, she opened the other and held it up to Fitz.
“Daisy…” he breathed, and took it, awestruck.
“Screw what the law says,” Daisy continued. “Governmental registration’s done sweet all for me anyway. I want this and I’m hoping you do to, so…Fitz. Simmons. FitzSimmons.” She paused to stifle a smirk. “Will you marry me?”
Jemma was already nodding furiously, and squeaked out, _Yes!_ as soon as she was able. The instant Daisy stood, Jemma flung her arms around her neck until they were spinning, and until they’d kissed each other breathless, and Daisy staggered drunkenly away until Fitz caught her.
A few moments passed in silence, and Daisy found the flood of warmth subsiding, giving way to just the slightest whisper of hesitation before Fitz smiled and whispered, _yes, of course,_ and kissed her so fervently she almost thought her knees would give out underneath her.
Jemma popped the champagne and the giddiness came back, and there were more kisses and laughter and the whole tale of Daisy’s ordeal to find the rings and decide on the occasion was told and interrupted and retold over French and Italian cuisine – one of which, Daisy explained, but she couldn’t remember which one – Jemma had once declared ‘the most romantic food of all time.’
-
For a few weeks, they were content like that. Insufferably so, in fact. Jemma had her red and gold ring that shone as rich as fire. Fitz had his; smooth titanium except for a hardy but simple diamond, and comprised of an outer ring that turned around an inner one for when he was feeling fidgety. Fitz and Jemma even sourced one for Daisy, a thin silver band inset with alternating small diamonds and deep purple amethyst all the way around. They showed them off and fawned over them and babbled to whoever would listen about their cheesy romantic evening or how they met or any and all of that romantic nonsense people tended to ask – whether they asked or not. They took great pride in showing the rings off to each other too; when Daisy held Jemma’s hips watching the sunrise, they lay their hands and their rings over each other. When Fitz leaned in the doorway of Jemma’s room, it was always the hand with the ring on it that clung to whatever he was hanging off, glinting in silent pride. When Fitz and Daisy held hands, they switched sides regularly, to the annoyance of many that they met in the halls.
“Ah, young love,” Mack sighed once, as he rolled up a set of foam earplugs and tossed another to May, which she caught without looking.
Soon enough though, for three eager young lovers who already lived and worked together and who already spent every waking moment as engaged as possible, there didn’t seem to be much point in waiting a year for marriage just because that’s what other people did.
“We have to do it properly though,” Jemma insisted, “so we will need at least three months.”
“Of _course,”_ Fitz said, mimicking her lavish enthusiasm.
“We’ll need three separate dates and venues, more like,” Daisy snorted, “knowing how often things get derailed around here.”
Fitz held up his hand as though taking an oath. “I solemnly swear not to get sucked into any parallel universes, realms or dimensions, or become possessed, or be kidnapped or killed for any extended period of time. Or at least until June.”
“At least until June,” the girls repeated, like the Church participation of a prayer. They grinned at their own private joke and then Fitz checked his watch, stood up and bowed.
“Farewell, my sun and stars. Unfortunately, robots don’t build themselves yet so I must leave the ceremony in your faithful hands.” He kissed their outstretched hands like a gentleman of old and grinned as he headed for the door with a bounce in his step. Then the girls set to work: Daisy pulling magazines and colour schemes and cuttings out all around them as Jemma poured the iced tea.
“Iced tea…”Daisy mused, settling back into her seat and examining their options as she lazily dipped and stirred a straw through her drink. “A summer wedding? Beach, maybe?” | 05cb4d3023024246a84544e746081f75 | ['ded98a1bfea743e1aec3f9a6dc82e4d8'] | “Which means it could happen again,” Fitz pointed out. “What if it happens next time? What if it happens when it actually matters? Today was just the beginning and Jemma – I’m sorry, but you’re hardly the toughest this competition has to offer. I’m screwed. This was a mistake.”
“Half the people here are thinking that exact thing,” Simmons assured him. “...Probably.”
“That’s comforting,” Ward remarked sarcastically, shooting Simmons an incredulous glare.
“Well I’m hardly going to lie to him to make him feel better!” she exclaimed, defensive. “That doesn’t serve any purpose at all! And Fitz, all I meant was that I don’t know for certain what’s in everybody else’s heads, but-“
“What about you?” Fitz challenged. “Do you think it’s a mistake for you to have joined? And you, Ward? Do you regret staying?”
When neither responded, he shook his head.
“There’s a reason there are no disabled people in Dauntless. If you can’t hold your own, you get thrown out. Special consideration only gets you so far. Garrett would have thrown me out today if the Cavalry hadn’t been there. I should just drop out now and save everybody the trouble. And save him the victory.”
“Garret’s a dick.”
Somebody slipped into the seat beside Fitz, and he jumped.
“Sorry, man.” The newcomer had a short beard – more like long stubble – and eyes that seemed to smile when his mouth did. He was weedy, not Dauntless-born, and familiar.
“Lincoln?”
“Yep, that’s me. Nice to finally meet the guy who saved my ass.” He held his hand out to Fitz, who shook it.
“Call me Fitz. This is Ward, and Sim- ah, Jemma.”
“Nice to meet you. So is this the transfer corner, or..?”
“Nah, Ward’s Dauntless.”
“Hi,” Ward put in. Lincoln paused and looked him up and down, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Hanging with the plebs,” he said eventually. “Okay. Guess I can get down with that, ‘long as you don’t start slipping poison my food and dragging me out of bed at night.”
Simmons stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth to stop herself commenting on the offended expression on Ward’s face as Lincoln shifted his attention back to Fitz and added the theft of one of Ward’s potatoes to his list of crimes.
“But like I said, Garrett’s a dick.” Lincoln chewed on the potato as he spoke. “And there are disabled people in Dauntless. Gordon’s blind, he seems to be doing okay.”
“He’s not Dauntless though,” Simmons pointed out. “He hasn’t passed. It’s only been two days. I’m not saying it’s not impressive, of course, but-”
“Ever hear of Hawkeye?” Lincoln continued, as if Simmons hadn’t spoken. “Super awesome archer: deaf as a post. Plus, look at Fury. One eye – and, rumour has it, a false leg. He seems to be doing well for himself, if you ask me.”
“Okay, fine.” Fitz huffed at the concessions. “But those are physical disabilities. Two out of three of them happened in fights. And wasn’t Gordon blind since birth? He has no control over that. This is different.”
“But still awful,” Lincoln insisted. “Don’t talk yourself down. And yeah, Gordon’s been blind for a long time, but he’s learnt to work with it. I helped him with that, actually. Back at home I used to do heaps of therapy and counselling. If you like, I can teach you some coping techniques?”
Fitz hung his head and picked at his food with a noncommittal shrug. Lincoln fell silent, unsure what other help he could give. Simmons and Ward, too, appeared unsure of what to say: Ward staring at Fitz, trying to think of something, and Simmons staring at her food, biting things back.
“What…did you…I mean, what did you see?” Simmons asked eventually.
Fitz half-heartedly jabbed at a potato. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sorry.“ Simmons shrunk back. Fitz looked up at her.
“No, I mean…about what I saw,” he explained. “It’s something from home that I want to put behind me, that’s all. I appreciate the concern.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I could teach you the rod moves,” Ward offered. “We’re moving onto knives tomorrow, but there’ll be a lot of overlap.”
“Great idea. I could do with some extra practice,” Lincoln said.
“Me, too,” Simmons agreed.
“Alright, it’s settled. All three of you are getting your asses kicked, by me, after dessert.” Ward grinned and stood up.
“Want anything?” Simmons offered, standing up too.
“God, no.” Fitz shook his head, and smiled.
9. Seven
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Finally!! Sorry to keep you waiting, there were lots of reasons, and it doesn't help that conspiracies are harrrrrrd. Hopefully this is a push in the right direction with detangling on my end, not sure if it's going to clear anything up for you guys but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Things are starting to go down soon so enjoy the fluff & victories while you can.
>
> PS - I couldn't not make a Daredevil reference when I heard that line. Somebody plz teach Simmons how to fight 2k16
_Dauntless_
“I can’t do this.”
Fitz hissed air through his teeth.
“Yes you can,” Ward assured him. “Just ten more seconds. You can do it.”
He bit his lip; anger and shame and pain bringing tears to his eyes. It felt like he was breathing nothing but concrete dust, his shoulders were burning, and he was starting to shake like a can of soda. He was already pre-empting the scrape of his elbows against the pavement, but it was his hips that gave out in the end.
“Nearly got it that time! Nice job!” Ward praised. Fitz curled up around what was left of his abdominals, which had for all intents and purposes, just been clawed out by a large animal.
“Everything _hurrrrts_ ,” he moaned. “Everything hurts and I’m dying.” |
e9d157e3df814d71b47cf5673ecca58c | ['dee38ae2542b47c388bf742920fc3faa'] | Levi's hair was blown across his face, blocking most of it. Erwin was grinning, as was Mike. Hanji's face was blocked by Erwin, who had decided to sit in front of them.
"Let's go to the ferris wheel," Erwin suggested.
"I thought we were going to Disneyland next," Mike told him.
"We were." Levi interjected, "I don't understand why you want to go on it when there's one at every carnival."
"Please, guys," Erwin begged. "Just once. This ferris wheel isn't like others."
Hanji smiled, "I'm game."
Mike shrugged and Levi just sighed in resignation. Erwin led the way to two line entrances. Both had signs over them. One read "swinging", the other read "non-swinging".
"Erwin?" Hanji asked, "what does it mean by swinging and non-swinging? What's the difference?" She peered up at the ferris wheel and heard laughter from the carriages above her.
"Oh, there's none, really. C'mon," he said, and stepped into the swinging line.
"There is a little difference," Mike piped up, but Erwin put a finger to his lips, a smile on his face.
"You're up to something, Erwin," Levi said to him, but joined him in line. Erwin grinned innocently in response, looking at the ducks gliding through the nearby water.
They reached the front of the line in no time. The entire last 15 minutes, Levi had been staring intently, trying to get Erwin to reveal the information he had been withholding, but to no avail. Erwin smiled at the attendant that opened the door to the carriage for them and sat next to Hanji, across from Mike and Levi. They were able to get a carriage to themselves.
"So, Erwin," Hanji asked once they had boarded, "what's the difference between swinging and non-swinging? Are we allowed to shake the carriage? Is it more unstable? Is it a mini-rollercoaster?"
"You'll see," is all Erwin said.
They moved slowly, as the carriages below them were unloaded and loaded. When they were half-way to the top of the wheel, the carriage slid smoothly down a sort of track into the interior of the wheel. Hanji and Levi both clutched the fenced sides of the carriage while Mike fiddled with a small paper bag he had found on the side of the carriage, a faint smile on his face, and Erwin leaned back in his seat, chuckling quietly. Hanji looked around frantically as theirs and Erwin's side tilted upward.
Finally, when the carriage stilled, Levi cautiously leaned across to Erwin and softly slapped him across the face.
"Oh, you can't tell me that wasn't fun," the blond told him, after recovering.
"It was unexpected." Levi said simply.
"You were scared weren't you?" Hanji teased.
"Shut up, Hanji!" Levi said
As they moved around the wheel, they grew accustomed to the carriage shifting positions. Hanji laughed quietly in the corner and Levi crossed his legs and leaned back. Mike continued examining the barf bag and Erwin gazed out over the manmade lake.
"I wonder what would happen if I stood up," Hanji wondered aloud. She placed one hand on Erwin and another on the side of the carriage.
They were about to stand but Levi shouted, "Hanji no!"
They looked at him, leaned back in her seat and laughed loudly. "Well I wasn't gonna actually do it, Levi. Chill out."
Soon, their carriage had gone around the wheel twice and they came to a slow stop. The Disneyland employee opened the door and they climbed out. As they walked through the exit, Hanji marveled the smooth engineering of the ferris wheel and told Erwin about what they could see of it. Mike walked with Levi as they made their way back to the front of the park.
"So, Levi. Did you enjoy your first time at California Adventure?" he asked.
"I enjoyed the rides, I guess, but not the everlasting taunting."
Mike smiled and turned back to the other two. They continued talking enthusiastically as they walked across the way, to Disneyland. For Hanji and Levi, it was their first time.
The four of them pushed through the turnstiles and began walking through Disneyland. "Okay. Space Mountain first," Hanji announced. They made their way over to the popular ride. The line was said to be an hour.
"Can we just get a Fastpass and come back later?" Levi asked.
"Fastpass return isn't until 8 o'clock. It's four right now. Do you want to wait an hour or four hours?" Hanji challenged.
Levi sighed but walked behind the other three as they weaved through the lines to where they met a group of teenagers in the hot sun. The same group from the Tower of Terror.
"Deja vu," Levi muttered. Hanji giggled.
The group was rowdy and loud throughout the wait, but the four tried their best to ignore them. Instead, Hanji and Mike began to play a game of "Ninja", where the two of them would try to slap each other's hands away. When one of them lost both of their hands, they would lose. Mike won in a matter of minutes. Hanji challenged him to a rematch and Erwin decided to join in. Levi marveled at their immaturity, and told them that they were acting so.
"C'mon Levi," Hanji whined, "you're no fun. Play with us."
"If I did, I'd beat you all," he stated simply.
"Is that so? Do you wish to prove it?" Erwin asked.
"Bring it on, Blondie," Levi challenged, joining the game. | fcb3faaed9c14413b6324ddceedeb040 | ['dee38ae2542b47c388bf742920fc3faa'] | "Erwin," Levi said, "you told me there weren't any drops on this one. That's why we skipped Splash Mountain."
"Don't worry it's nothing too bad. And we _are_ going on Splash Mountain. Hanji really wants to."
Levi didn't respond as they neared some steam with a face projected on it. A boy behind them turned to his companion. "That's Davy Jones, right Mikasa?" he asked. The girl nodded and he turned to the blond boy on his other side and said loudly, "That's Davy Jones."
The boat idled along and they passed multiple animatronics. Hanji's eyes sparkled as they observed them and Mike's nose was in the air, taking in the smells. The boy behind them spoke again. "Hey, Armin. That's Jack Sparrow right there. And there. And there's some cats there. Wow, they look so realistic."
Suddenly, Levi turned around and Erwin audibly groaned. "You do know you're not alone, right, kid? Save your comments for yourself, or after the ride."
The kid's green eyes where wide in surprise and Erwin quietly apologized on Levi's behalf, then returned to watching the robots. When they hopped out of the boat and walked back into the sunlight, Erwin turned to Mike. "We need to keep Levi from interacting with anyone under the age of twenty for the rest of the day," he said just loud enough for Levi to hear.
* * *
Next, they boarded Haunted Mansion, which was not far away from Pirates of the Caribbean. Levi refused to board a hearse with Hanji so he hopped on one with Mike, who he knew wouldn't disturb him. Despite this, he could hear Hanji's excited talk with Erwin from the hearse ahead of them.
They moved past holographic ghosts and floating instruments. Hanji wondered aloud how they did that and Erwin indulged their interests and did not interrupt them. Mike took this time to rest his feet and relax from waiting in long lines. He lazily watched a cemetery pass by and listened to singing busts.
Hanji laughed at the hitch hiking ghosts and told the others of their displeasure that the ride was over so fast. She led them by the arms (except for Mike, who walked behind the other three), telling them that they had to go find the princesses now and take pictures before it was too late. "According to the list of shows and times, the princesses should be meeting and greeting right now," they told them.
"Hanji, I'm a grown-ass man," Levi told her, "I don't want to take a picture with a princess."
Hanji snorted. "Levi, you're at Disneyland. You may be grown, but you're never too old to want to see a Disney princess. You have a favorite, and she's bound to be here, and I can guarantee you want to see her. Who're your favorites, guys?" They addressed Mike and Erwin.
"Tiana," Mike said simply.
"I like Ariel best," Erwin told them.
"And you, Levi?" asked Hanji.
Levi sighed. "Belle, from Beauty and the Beast, I suppose. What about _you_ Hanji?"
"Hm," they thought, "well, I recently saw Frozen, and I really liked Anna. But she's new, so they probably don't have her. Belle's my second favorite though."
So they made their way through a sector of the park in search of actresses in princess getup. Erwin found Ariel first. They waited in line but finally reached the young woman wearing the sea foam green dress. Hanji snapped a picture of Erwin grinning next to the redhead and they continued.
Next, they spotted Belle, who had a relatively shorter line. Hanji and Levi took a picture together with the girl in the gold dress. Hanji put up a thumbs-up and Levi flashed a rare and brief smile. They thanked her and finally found Tiana, who had the longest line they had seen. Mike finally reached his favorite princess, and was considerably taller than the dark-skinned actress. They smiled together nonetheless and Hanji took another picture to add to their ever growing collection of Disneyland pictures. After they finished with princesses, they pulled out a map to figure out the next ride.
"That one," they pointed to a white blob on the map.
"Seriously, Hanji?" Levi asked, "it's basically the creepiest animatronics ever paired with the most annoying song ever. Why?"
"You can't go to Disneyland and not go on It's a Small World. And, it's right here. C'mon, guys." They led them to a large white building. The four of them waited in a long line then boarded a boat that led them around the world in the form of song and robots. It wasn't long before they got off, but the song had stuck in each of their heads long before that. Even after they had exited and begun making their way over to Splash Mountain, Mike was quietly singing the song under his breathe.
"It's a small world after all," Levi joined in song softly. Eventually, Erwin and Hanji joined as well and they sang all the way to the edge of the Splash Mountain line, where a short blonde shushed them politely.
The sun was setting when the four of them boarded a log, despite Levi's protests, for he did not wish to get wet. He sat behind Mike, hoping the tall man would shield him from the water. He groaned when he saw more animatronics, but they finally came to the biggest drop, where they all emerged soaked. They exited and looked at the picture.
Mike, in the front, had his arms up in the air, as did Erwin in the back, and Hanji in front of him. The only one who did not was Levi, who was covering his face with the back of Mike's shirt. They began walking to the next ride, and Hanji was asking Mike and Erwin if they had enjoyed the last one. Levi had enjoyed it, but he didn't dare tell them so.
* * * |
87f3161b41994480bb4ed80f33bd2f4b | ['dee8860548bb471ea262d08b38e74c16'] | John looked over at his mother who had her arms crossed over her chest. "I'll got get my laptop. Then I'll come down for breakfast." he watched his mother nod before he turned around, heading back upstairs. He took his phone out of his back pocket as he headed to his room, seeing the text from Sherlock.
[05:11]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you when you said you needed to leave. Hopefully I'll get to see you again.
[05:32]
You will. I'm telling Irene to keep you updated if my mother allows me to talk with her still. My phone is being confiscated, talk to you when I get it back.
John stood in his room, staring at the small alarm system on his window his mother had installed after yesterday morning's fiasco. He still wasn't allowed to contact the outside world so he spent his days inside, watching the telly, sleeping, or talking with his mother. That was the worst part. She never asked what John had did when he snuck out, but the topic instead was finding John a husband.
"I think Charles is a good choice." his mother said one night at dinner.
John rolled his eyes, picking at the broccoli on his plate. "I don't want to get married, mum." he looked up at her.
"And you don't want to take over your father's business and it needs to be someone in this family."
"I have cousins!"
"You know we don't speak to them."
"What about Harry?"
"Don't say her name, Johnathan."
John sighed and slouched in his chair. "She never did anything to you. Or dad. She just wanted to live her own life."
"You don't know what happened. You were only eight. Now sit up and finish your dinner."
John sat up, stabbing the broccoli with his fork, eating it. He looked at his mother who wiped her mouth then gave him a timid smile. "If I knew how toxic this family was then, I would've left too." he muttered.
Mrs. Watson dropped her silverware, straightening out as she exhaled sharply. She looked up at her son with a stone cold face. "I want you to drop this subject. Now."
"This is my life!" John said, still fighting with the subject. "I'm twenty one, almost twenty two! I have the right to do what I want!"
Mrs. Watson rose from her chair, reaching over the table and giving John a good hard smack across the cheek. "I said drop it, Johnathan."
John covered his hit cheek and stared at his mother for a second before getting up from the table and running upstairs. He shut his door then locked it, waking to his window. He stared at the alarm, breathing heavily as he grabbed a shoe off his floor an threw it at the alarm with all the force in his arm, putting a crack in his window. There was an urge to just pack up to leave. To just go somewhere else and get out. But, he couldn't do that, not to his mother or father. his heart was too big. John picked up the shoe again and chucked it again, with more force this time at a random spot on his wall, letting out an aggravated scream. He panted heavily as he stared at the hole in his wall before going into his closet and packing up a over night bag.
8. Eight
John stood at the door of the diner, looking in as he saw the waiter hunched over the counter, writing in a journal. He lifted his hand up and tapped on the door with knuckle softly, watching Sherlock's head snap up then furrow his brows. Sherlock walked out from behind the bar, going to the door and unlocking it.
"What happened to your cheek?" Sherlock asked, gently cupping the boy's cheek. Concern was written all across his face.
"It was my mum." John said quickly. "Can I stay with you for the night?"
Sherlock nodded. "I have to close, but you can go ahead and go up to my flat." He stepped out of the way and let John in, closing the door behind him,locking it. "Just go through the door between the restrooms."
John nodded then walked slowly to the small corridor where the toilets were, going to the door between them and going up the steps. He set his bag down next to Sherlock's bed then sat on the mattress, toeing his shoes off and crossing his legs. There was a bit of guilt in him for just leaving his mother like that. She was probably worried sick and would have people out looking for him by the morning. He just couldn't stay there after they both had snapped, confined in his room by himself with out a way to talk to someone. He had gone to Irene's first, but she wasn't home so he decided on the only other person that talked to him. Sherlock.
There was a soft thud from a shoe and that was when John snapped out of his trance, looking at where the sound came from. Sherlock was standing at his closet, taking his shoes then going for his shirt, unbuttoning it then pulling on a Beatles graphic tee. He then went door his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles before stepping out and grabbing a pair of joggers off the floor, pulling them on. He turned around and John looked straight ahead, looking at the tv.
"Hey," Sherlock said as he sat next to John, "get changed and I'll make some tea, then you can tell me about what happened or we can just lay down. Okay?" He rest a hand on John's knee, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of his jeans.
John looked up at Sherlock, nodding. "Thank you." | 131a7606ec7c42a7a82782058c6b6029 | ['dee8860548bb471ea262d08b38e74c16'] |
work out
**Author's Note:**
> for @bottomjohns
"do you have to wear that?" sherlock asked as he watched john walk in wearing taunting shorts that were just enough to cover his butt.
"what?" john asked, looking down at his outfit. a green leotard with his shorts. there was nothing wrong with that. "it's fine." he said, tossing his bag down then bending over it, smirking as he saw sherlock starting at him in the mirror.
sherlock cleared his throat, pulling the sleeves up on his jacket. "i was thinking we could start with squats with the kettlebell. then see what to do from there."
john nodded. he walked over to the weight rack and pulled off the ten pound kettlebell. "are you going to train me or not?" he asked over his shoulder.
sherlock shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded, walking over to john. "spread your legs out more and straighten out your back." he said to john, placing a hand on the small of his back as he watched john do as he says. "alright, we'll start with fifteen, but hold for a few seconds before you come up."
john nodded, fixing his grip on the handle before starting. he watched sherlock's eyes in the mirror flick from his posture down to his ass and he smirked, deciding to give sherlock a small show.
after the squats they did body builders with the kettlebells until john got tired of them and needed a breather. once he finished, they started core. sherlock kneeled beside john and watched him do elbow to knee crunches, calling out the numbers and telling him to go faster. then sherlock made him do an excessive amount of different crunches, agreeing to letting john do a minute plank for another break.
"you're doing better." sherlock said to john as he handed him his water, kneeling by his feet.
john chugged his water before taking a second to catch his breath. "thanks." he panted. he turned his head, setting his bottle to the side and his attention going to sherlock that was staring down at his body with flushed cheeks. john smirked and sat up, scooting closer to sherlock as he snakes his legs around his waist.
"w-what are you doing?" sherlock stammered.
"we're the only ones here, correct?" john asked, leaning closer to sherlock.
sherlock's tongue darted out and he quickly licked his lips, nodding. "only ones."
john's smirk grew wider as he cupped the back of the trainer's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. sherlock kissed back for a few seconds before john pulled way, leaning back on his elbow. "i've been watching the way you look at me." he said with a smirk, watching sherlock turn red.
"s-sorry."
"no it's fine, i like it." john pressed his foot against sherlock's hip. "i like seeing you drool over the way my ass looks. i can see your boner even if you desperately try to hide it."
sherlock cleared his throat and looked down.
"c'mere." the blond said as he curled his finger.
sherlock leaned forward, watching john lean back. he got pulled down by the lapel of his jacket, getting kissed hard by the boy underneath him. he adjusted himself as he kissed back, pressing his groin against the blond's, getting a small noise from him.
"do you want me, john?" the man panted.
john nodded. "god, yes."
sherlock smirked and chuckled, pushing john's chin up with his thumb and kissing his neck, biting the skin teasingly. "you don't deserve me. not after all that teasing." he said then gently bit the skin underneath john's ear, making him yelp softly.
"please," john begged.
sherlock hummed, rubbing his fingertips over the fabric of the boy's shirt. "and these? oh god these just are sinful. absolutely sinful." he lowered himself, rubbing the underside of the boy's thighs.
john was throbbing in his shorts, curling his toes as he felt sherlock's hot breath against him and the hands on his thighs were just driving him insane. "please, sherlock!" he whined, bucking his hips up.
the hands moved from his thighs and to his hips, pushing them into the floor. in a flash second sherlock was all the way back up john's body, his breath hot in his ear. "greedy little boys don't get what they want," he growled. "they get what they deserve."
john's breath hitched and he moved his hand off the bicep of the man and to his crotch, palming him. "will i deserve your cock if i suck it first?" he asked.
sherlock moaned softly, pushing his cock into the touch. "fuck yes." he breathed then sat back, watching the boy sit up and get on his knees. he pulled his shorts and boxers down, watching his cock spring free then a hand wrap around it.
john lowered himself, inhaling the scent of musk and salt as he licked around the base of sherlock's cock, looking up at him through his lashes.
"fuck," sherlock moaned, tilting his head back as john's tongue run up the underside of his cock then around the tip. he sucked in a sharp breath and bit the back of his hand as the warm heat of john's mouth engulfed him. shelrock's head flicked over to the mirror and he watched their reflections. watched his cock disappear in the boy's mouth. he wanted to fuck john and watch himself do it in the mirror right beside him.
“up.” sherlock panted.
john pulled off and got taken by surprise when sherlock pushed him back and flipped him over, holding onto his hips.
“stay right here. nice and pretty for me then i’ll fuck you, yeah?” he asked in the blond’s ear, giving his ass a slight squeeze.
john nodded, whimpering slightly. once sherlock got up john watched him walk away in the mirror then saw him reappear with a small packet in his hand. |
fbd5d92a6e8143409ed3700caf0049e2 | ['def1419ec0bb4d8bbea74699750ac6d7'] | Connor gave a quiet groan, rubbing his face with slightly damp hands and tipping his head back in frustration. What the hell could he do? Obviously he knew what a human male experiencing the same thing would do, but in this situation there were unprecedented factors in place. Primarily the fact that he hasn't meant to be able to feel any arousal and was now stuck in the precinct bathroom with an erection that was starting to ache.
What was an android to do?
2. New Arrangements
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Our Detective is getting used to her new job when an awkward realisation puts her in a vaguely embarrassing situation with a certain Rk800.
Hilariously enough, Connor berating himself with rhetorical queries on how to deal with the (literally) growing problem between his legs.
_Meanwhile_
As much as starting in a new precinct wasn't easy, being from another country made it all the more awkward. Granted, coming to Detroit from England hadn't been such a massive jump, but it still wasn't the smoothest transition considering the sheer amount of files she had had to bring with her.
Although, one good thing had happened since she'd arrived. The Android, Connor- she thought, had saved her ass from Reed(?)'s uncomfortable advances.
She logged into her pc, typing out her details carefully:
_Enter Name_
A-l-e-x-a-n-d-r-i-a // C-r-e-s-t
_Registration Successfull_
_Enter Password_
***************
_Login Successful_
She gave herself a small smile, settling into the familiarity of office work as she went to look through the case files Lieutenant Anderson had sent her. Since her arrival in Detroit, she'd found it easiest to get along with Hank out of all the people she'd met. He kept to himself somewhat, and this made being around him easier for her as she had an unfortunate tendency to be shy of everyone who wasn't a suspect or a witness. Before arriving she'd been made aware of the Android, of course, it was the reason she was there.
Back in England, she had been working specifically in the extremely rare cases on deviant Androids, and had become somewhat gifted on the subject. The cases were thankfully very uncommon and usually taken care of before any damage could be done- more often than not a deviant would be found wandering the streets in confusion and would simply be taken in to be re-wired. However the situation in Detroit had become much more serious, and eventually Alexandria had been transfered to help with the understandings of deviancy.
In fact she had been informed that at some point it would be likely she'd be working alongside the RK800 Android quite closely, to combine information and hopefully rid Detroit of deviants for good.
Speaking of the RK800, he had vanished after helping her get Reed off her back. She'd surprised herself with what she'd said to him, but it was Connor's borderline aggression that had really made her take a step back from it. Nobody had told him to do it, unless she'd missed Hank saying something?
Regardless of her confusion over Connor's actions, the concern she had began to feel wasn't easy to ignore. It was odd that he'd disappeared in the first place, more so when someone informed her that it seemed that he'd locked himself in the bathroom- Okay no. At the moment, it was her priority to get her work done and that's what she was going to do.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Around an hour later, she looked up only to see Connor, walking towards Hank's desk with a noticeable expression of discomfort- that is until he noticed her looking at him. Alexandria gave him a small smile, and he returned it, again uncomfortably, and sat down next to Hank on the desk. When he sat, however, was when she noticed it, and proceeded to turn red despite herself. She felt her face heat up horribly and couldn't do much to stop it once it happened. Connor- an android supposedly designed only for police/detective work- had an erection. _And by the looks of things it wasn't necessarily a small erection either-_
God what was she thinking? The more she found herself glancing at Connor the hotter her face became, as besides noticing his 'problem', she had begun noticing features that shouldn't have mattered to her. Deep brown eyes, that stray hair that always seemed to escape his otherwise perfectly styled cut, the way his brown creased in concern or concentration, hell even the way his lips twitched up into a smile when Hank made a joke or snarky comment. For whatever reason, one small glace at an android with an unfortunate erection, had sprouted a seed of fascination in her head.
That is until she noticed that he was staring back at her. And smiling- not smiling, smirking.
...
Well fuck.
What could she do here, realistically. Perhaps say she had zoned out? Or that she was just thinking? About anything but his (still present) erection? Actually speaking of that he seemed remarkably calm about that.
_Connor- Internally Screaming_
It was then when Hank saved her, and called her over to his desk to look at a file that she hadn't been sent. With a relieved sigh, Alexandria stood up and brushed off her pants, walking over to Hank and leaning over the desk to look at the file displayed in his computer screen. She gave the file a quick once over before actually starting to read, pushing a few stray strands of hair back from her face.
After finishing the file she looked at Hank, considering the information.
"Alright so- With that info we can surely find the location of those deviants, right? The file lists sightings of them and they're all in a similar area, implying that they're based in that same part of the city. Stop me if I'm missing something."
Hank gave a pleased smile, nodding his head and turning to both Alexandria and Connor.
"Yeah that's pretty much what I'm thinking, so you two need to go see what you can find. I figure that since you're new to the case, doing some fieldwork with wonder boy over here will help you get to know him. Although first, Chief has a request of you- Wonder boy needs somewhere to stay, how do you feel about a roommate?"
She considered this for a moment before nodding, before turning to Connor who was standing really quite close to her. She gave a little gasp, stepping back and almost stumbling, but Connor caught her before she could fall. Her face turned somewhat pink, and she couldn't help but notice how his caught a tinge of blue.
"What do you think, Connor? Would that be okay with you- staying with me, I mean."
She found herself biting back a smile when he all but enthusiastically agreed, and she nodded in assent herself.
Well this should be fun. | 6443092ee3884ed4b7ccc089a4d80a5e | ['def1419ec0bb4d8bbea74699750ac6d7'] | He's getting anxious, nails digging into me almost to the point of pain and I hush him, gently reminding him that regardless of before I'm here now, and he calms down enough to give me a sweet smile, drooling slightly despite himself. It is then that the new clown decides to speak up in an accent that I can't quite place for whatever reason. It's almost a Boston accent but also not at all, it's hard to explain.
"Well, hiya sweetheart. I'm Pennywise the _Dancing_ Clown. But so is your boyfriend, affectionately dubbed 'Junior' by yours truly. You can call me Papa."
He's almost charming to be perfectly honest, and the Junior nickname gave me a little giggle, but I still have far too many questions for any of it to make sense. Penn huffs, sensing my confusion and unease, and subtly nudges my head down onto his shoulder where I rest it, still looking at 'Papa'. Penn shifts his weight on his long legs, mumbling to himself before speaking up with a slight growl to his tone.
"You're making little puppet nervous Gramps. Pennywise doesn't appreciate that, no not at all he doesn't. Come to the nest where she can be comfortable. Talk there, only talk there. Only talk where the little puppet is comfortable, where my little puppet is comfortable."
The typical disjointed speech of Penn calms me compared to the gruff smoothness of the other clown, and as he carries me off I catch 'Papa' giving a slight smile. It's definitely similar to how a father would regard a misbehaving child, which is interesting, so I can't help but hope I'll be getting some answers as to what's going on when we get to the nest where Penn has decided I need to be.
What a way to wake up.
2. I have so many questions
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> So our dear reader has found her Penn, but also discovered someone new in the process.
> She has more than a few questions, but can she really rely on them being answered?
>
> Let's see, shall we?
Being wrapped up in a nest by an extremely anxious/territorial demon clown is an interesting experience. Despite it being Penn's idea to return to the trailer, the moment 'Papa' stepped over the threshold he became extremely twitchy and anxious, hissing quietly and refusing to let go of me from his hip until he sat himself down in the nest and started bundling blankets around me. As comfortable as it was, I couldn't really enjoy the treatment as all I could hear was Penn's upset hissing and mewling, and the other clown's laughter as he watched.
"Junior I'm not here to take your toy, stop wrapping her up. You'll smother her."
Penn didn't get the chance to respond to that, as I found my voice and gave the older clown a withering look. It wasn't his place to be telling Penn how to handle _his_ mate, after all.
"Don't. Whatever you're here for, it has nothing to do with how he treats me. And for the record do you see me complaining?"
He looked shocked at that but gave me a nod that actually resembled a gesture of respect. Judging by that I decided the best way to handle him would be to treat him just as I'd treat anyone else, rather than regarding him as an unknown danger as I had with Penn when we first met. After all, when Penn and I had first met, not only was I human, I was uncertain of the place I'd just moved to and of what could possibly lurk beneath my home. As it turns out what lurked beneath my home was my future mate but that's beside the point. I have Penn a look from my position beneath his chin, and he regarded me with a wary pout. He looked as though he wanted to cry, or attack, either way, it wasn't great. It was bizarre to see him in such an anxious state when he was usually so sure of his own nature.
"Pennywise is sorry. But he can't risk any harm coming to his small one, his precious one nono that's not okay. Nobody can harm his little puppet. Not even you Gramps."
'Not even you'. That's interesting,
He looked up at the other clown now, tilting his head to rest his chin on top of mine. This did seem to calm him a little, as it added more proximity to the both of us. With Penn more settled, I relaxed, feeling much calmer. Penn being territorial isn't good for anybody, least of all the object causing said behavior in him. His throat was rumbling though, a half purr half growl that I could feel against the top of my head. A fascinating feeling, almost like a car's engine on standby. The older clown gave a tired sigh and regarded the both of us with vague interest.
"Junior, you and I both know that it's painfully close to the time of my long rest, so I despair to see how you concern yourself with concerns like me _stealing your girl_. I mean for fuck's sake kid, really? And sweetheart, since I doubt the big lug explained any of this to you before you slept, Junior is the closest thing I have to a son. We have a little arrangement in place, to prevent us from stepping on each other's toes, so to speak. I sleep when he's up and about and vice versa. So I'm just here to let him know something regarding what he seems to wanna do to you doll."
He gives Penn a withering look when the growling increases, before continuing speaking in his gravely voice. |
1c458353f22e4896b5d5bc9d63e5407d | ['df23fcebe2b646a19278baf8b1c1156d'] | “Because that’s not your personality! You aren’t so aggressive with other people! You never go farther than teasing with others, you only seem to have a real problem with me.”
His voice breaks at last sentence. Jae shoots his head up, eyes widening. The boy in front of him is crying.
He freezes.
‘_I took it too far._’
Dowoon and Younghyun are instantly at the weeping boys side, while Sungjin shoots a disapproving look to Jae. The other two follow. Wonpil can’t bear to look at him.
He knows he deserves it.
He deserves all the disapproval, hell he deserves to be hated.
But Wonpil deserves none of his mistreatment. He knows it. He wants to make it right.
“W- Wait-“
“You should go.” Sungjin interrupts him.
He deserves that too.
He rushes out the front door, not sparing another glance behind him as tears fill his eyes.
— ☁︎ —
Jae ends up in a coffee shop down the road, not bothering to hide his swollen face, he sips his now cold drink. He doesn’t know what time it is now, he assumes lunch time as the small cafe is growing busier. He checks his phone. A message from sungjin.
“Sorry to kick you out, but what you‘ve done is not cool. Not just in this situation, the way you’ve been treating him for a while now is unacceptable. I know you’re at least smart enough to be aware of that. Come back whenever you’re ready to sit down and apologize to Wonpil. Until then, don’t bother interacting with him.”
Ready? He’ll never be ready for the conversation about to come. But the longer he leaves Wonpil hurting the more he’ll hurt, and the last thing Jae wants to do is hurt him more than he already has.
— ☁︎ —
Jae slowly opens the door to their home. He enters cautiously, unsure if the silence around him is calming him down or making him more anxious.
He walks to Sungjins room to alert him of his arrival. He gently knocks, before timidly pushing the door open. Sungjin and Younghyun are sitting on the bed, they stop their conversation as they notice Jae. Younghyun shoots him an unrecognizable look resembling some mix of disappointment and sympathy.
“You gonna talk to him?” Sungjin asks simply.
Jae nods.
“Good. I’ll... go handle Dowoon.”
‘ _ Dowoon? _ ’ Jae thinks to himself.
Sungjin heads towards Wonpil’s room. Jae watches from afar as the man peeks his head into the room and retrieves a very angry looking Dowoon and starts to talk to him. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but he doesn’t miss the several deadly glares Dowoon shoots his way.
Jaes never seen him act this way before.
‘_I went too far._’ He thinks again.
A few moments later, Dowoon stomps to the front door and Sungjin returns to Jae.
“I’m taking Dowoon and Hyun out. If we come back and find Pil in worse condition than we left him, I can’t promise Dowoon will spare your life.”
Jae nods.
“And hey,” Sungjin puts a hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes. “Do the right thing. Tell the truth. All the truth...” He enunciated with a a quirked eyebrow. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“...I know” Jae replies quietly.
— ☁︎ —
He waits for everyone to leave, before taking a deep breath and walking up to Wonpil’s room.
He gently knocks.
“Dowoon? Come in.” The younger boy responds quietly.
Jae opens the door gently, “Actually it’s um.. its me.” he says.
Wonpil startles at the unexpected identity of his visitor, he looks towards the door eyes wide.
Jae could cry at the sight.
It hasn’t been more than a couple hours, but it looks like the boy has been crying for weeks. His eyes are red and sad, his face is puffy and it screams heartbreak, he’s curled up as small as possible in the corner of his full size bed. He looks broken.
‘_I broke him._’
“Can um... can I talk to you?” Jae asks as gently as he can, afraid anything he does will destroy the already harmed boy. Wonpil nods, barely enough to be noticed. It’s enough for Jae though, as he creeps over to the bed and slowly sits on the end of it, giving the younger boy as much space as possible.
Wonpil frowns at this. ‘_Does he hate me that much? He can’t even bear to be next to me?’_
“I’m so sorr-“
“Do you hate me?” Wonpil interrupts quietly.
Jae’s heart breaks.
“Do you hate me?” He asks again, tears already forming in his eyes.
“Hate you?” Jae repeats quietly in disbelief.
Wonpils tears start to fall, “Did I do something wrong? I keep thinking and I don’t know what I could have done. Whatever it is I am so sorry please just tell me so I can make it up to you I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore I really never meant to-“
“No no no Pillie please calm down,”
The nickname makes the smaller boys heart ache, but his tears make the olders heart ache even worse.
“Look at me Pil.”
The brunette hesitates.
“Please look at me.” Jae begs.
He slowly looks up.
“You are not in the wrong here. Not in any way. You were right to be upset with me. The way I treat you is not okay. You do not deserve that from anyone.”
He makes eye contact with the small boy in front of him. | 1c6319712a234d09b069c36c339c75d0 | ['df23fcebe2b646a19278baf8b1c1156d'] | Jae leans impossibly closer, their lips barely brushing, and whispers to him.
“I’d love to kiss you.”
“_Please._ ” Wonpil whimpers.
Jae finally closes the gap between them. Wonpil lets him take control guiding him gently. It feels comfortable. It feels safe.
‘_This is the Jae I love._’
— ☁︎ —
If the other three boys happen to have come home to find the previously bickering men asleep in each others arms, who are they to interrupt.
**Author's Note:**
> me? projecting onto Jae? perhaps.
>
> uhhh that ending was shit and i feel like i didnt explain enough in the beginning that this isnt a one time thing and wonpils reaction was a build up of jaes consistent teasing being taken too far. but it was. so. yeah im sorry hhh
>
> ALSO I KNOW ITS NOT GOOD TO TAKE A SUPER LONG BREAK RIGHT AFTER MAKING THIS ACCOUNT BUT im back!!! i hope yall havent forgotten about your promots and suggestions because i do still plan on writing them!!! luv u |
55ec3a5e820348d98e666f6cc62cd66a | ['df395911eba647a0b19e5bdfc6af0e9f'] | He pulled Laurent’s hand away from his chest and brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles. Laurent twisted his hand and traced Damen’s cheek before leaning in to kiss him. Damen kissed back, slowly and lazily; in no particular rush at all. They broke apart and Damen planted a quick kiss onto Laurent’s forehead before pulling him in closer to his chest.
With a sigh, Lauent finally let himself relax and quickly found himself lulled into sleep by the fingers in his hair.
3. Venerated
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Alongside Laurent, Damen pays his respects at Auguste's grave.
They had planned the trip for weeks, and it felt surreal to at last be drawing near to their destination. Laurent hadn’t come here recently, but he still knew the area by heart. He used to visit regularly. Sometimes to mourn, sometimes to think. Until today, he had always come alone.
“It’s at the foot of that grove,” he called to Damen, who trailed behind him only slightly.
Laurent never imagined bringing anyone here, but neither did he imagine falling in love with his sworn enemy, the man who had brought his brother here at all. The juxtaposition of it was glaring and nerve-wracking.
The clearing was a small and quiet patch of thick grass, partially encircled by grand, wide trees. The sun hung low in the sky, turning all their leaves a soft gold color.
Laurent slid from the saddle without a word as Damen did the same.
“I’ll tie up the horses,” Damen offered, taking the reins from Laurent’s hands. Laurent watched him walk the animals towards a nearby tree before looking around the small clearing he was more than familiar with. He found himself gravitating towards his brother naturally and reverently, until he found himself at a thick tree trunk. Lying in front of it, there was a gravestone made of white marble. The same white marble that the floors of Arles were crafted from.
Nothing had changed since he had last been here, not that he had expected it to.
Damen joined him then, slipping his fingers into Laurent’s hand, wordlessly.
Nothing, except for that.
They were both silent for a while, standing still, their hands still enclosed in one another. The only sound to be heard was a slight wind.
"I’m sorry I stripped you away from from him so soon.“ The words, spoken in Veretian, were sincere and honest, the way Damen always was. Laurent let them hang in the air, unsure of how to respond.
“If it were in my power….If I had known, I would not have….” Damen trailed off, his typically articulate speech struggling to find its balance. Laurent cut in, wrapping his hand around Damen’s forearm.
“I know, you don’t need–”
“You would be proud of him.” Laurent drew his brows together at this before finally glancing at Damen, who kept his gaze transfixed on the ground in front of him. He waited for Damen to turn and face him, and when it didn’t happen, Laurent felt his heart constrict at the realization.
Damen wasn’t talking to him.
“He’s the best man I’ve ever known. I am led to believe you had a great hand in that.”
This is not what Laurent had expected. In his mind he anticipated an awkward and sad silence - he had readied himself for that. He did not prepare for the heavy, peaceful air that settled around them, weighing him down, leaving him breathless. This was not the first time Damen had defied what Laurent expected from him, nor would it be the last, but it seemed to hit him with unprecedented force. He remained silent.
“His strength would astound you. His heart has grown to be true and loyal. We are building something great. Something peaceful.” Damen turned his gaze to Laurent for the first time since they had arrived, smiling warmly. “And I will care for him while you cannot.”
Laurent felt like his breathing had stopped, and he tried to smile back at Damen but he felt entirely frozen in place.
Damen stepped forward slightly, something in his hand that Laurent had not noticed, and slowly, carefully, Damen fell to his knee, placing on the ground in front of him a laurel.
When he stood again, Laurent met his gaze carefully, all too aware that his face was open and vulnerable.
“In Akielos, it is customary to give respects vocally,” Damen explained as he reached his hand up to Laurent’s head to tuck some of his hair, windblown and out of place, behind his ear.
Laurent nodded, leaning into the touch, planting a soft kiss in Damen’s palm. “Thank you.”
Laurent did not take a turn of his own speaking to his late brother, but as he placed his hand back into Damen’s, he could feel the words he would say engraved in his mind, soft and poignant.
He will care for me while you cannot. | 806b316ef81d45e6b54ec61cb3422470 | ['df395911eba647a0b19e5bdfc6af0e9f'] | “So much is different. Uncle is dead. It’s just me now.” He cast a glance toward his parents and felt it then, the juxtaposition of his beating heart in a room of quiet stone. Laurent, the last surviving member of his family, was warm and remarkably alive in a place that wasn’t. It was a new feeling, though it shouldn’t have been. He felt, suddenly, as Damen did in the gardens, staring with awe at a palace he had never seen before as a free man. In a terrible way, Laurent understood the feeling.
He wondered if there would someday be a statue of himself here, standing alongside his brother, or if he and Damen would have a new memorial built on the border. They hadn't discussed it. After having spent long summer months together fighting for any future at all, their time recently had been consumed in preparing their union, building the future of their kingdom. The notion of planning for their death had not even come up.
Perhaps he would be immortalized in the Kingsmeet. He had never asked if that would be permitted, a Veretian king in a hall of Akielon royalty, but if Damen had any say in the matter, he already knew the answer.
“So much has changed, Auguste,” he said through a lingering smile, feeling suddenly shy. “I brought someone to meet you.”
It was new, to stand in front of his brother and feel nervous. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, or what he was looking for. He couldn’t decide if it was forgiveness or reassurance or a blessing, though he longed for each one of them. His heart ached standing in front of his brother, as it likely always would. But now, for the first time, Laurent wasn’t there speaking to Auguste to ease that ache, or to desperately try to fill the hole that had been left in his death. This time, he was here simply because he could be; because it was easier to bear his grief now that he had someone to bear it with.
“He saved my life. Many times over. I wouldn’t be here without him. I thought for so long that he was sadistic and selfish, but he’s kind and…irritatingly righteous.” Laurent let out a breathy laugh at that, imagining the objection that he would receive from Damen if he were in the room, the accompanying slight lift of his eyebrows and the tilt of his mouth, the single dimple that dipped into his cheek. He loved that expression, how easy it was to pull from him. He loved that it was always followed by a grin or a taunt or a kiss to the forehead. It was how Auguste used to react, sharp and amused.
“I have to think you aren’t mad. I don’t think it would be like you.” Slowly, the smile began to fade from Laurent’s face, suddenly growing serious. He hesitated before he whispered, “I so wish you wouldn’t be.”
Laurent searched Auguste’s face for some kind of resolution that he knew he couldn’t get, and yet longed for anyway. He shook his head quickly, trying to ground himself, to shake himself out from the weight of the room, the heavy feeling that filled his lungs.
“You know,” Laurent started, “I told you I’d never like girls.” He laughed into the quiet room, trying to ease the tension that was building inside him. He felt as though his chest was going to expand to its limits. He wished uselessly that they could speak, that he could have had the opportunity to ask Auguste about about all the things he never had the opportunity to ask about. Like a blessing for himself and the man that stood outside.
In a different world, he would have asked. In a different world, Auguste would have given it with a kiss to the temple, and no small amount of teasing.
Laurent still wanted it, desperately. “He’s going to keep me safe, Auguste. I trust him.”
Laurent glanced toward the glass archway at the far end of the room. Through it, he could see Damen still waiting outside, seated on a bench beneath a large, blossom-covered tree, partially hidden by greenery. He didn’t notice Laurent gazing at him, keeping his eyes fixed down at the golden laurel crown in his hands, fiddling with one of the leaves. Almost as quickly as Laurent had looked over, the sun broke from behind the clouds, veiling Damen, and the garden around him, in sunlight. He watched Damen squint his eyes and lift his head to watch the clouds break, smiling, as if it was nice to see something familiar and warm in a place that had been so foreign and cold to him. The sun reflected brilliantly off the gold on his wrist.
The band’s twin sat on Laurent’s own arm. Laurent absently fiddled with it for a moment, noticing for the first time that the skin underneath it was kept milky white, while the skin around it had grown slightly pink from exposure to the sun in Akielos.
Auguste had once expressed a wish to live in that same Akielon heat. He had said it sprawled out next to Laurent at the bank of a river, his eyes closed, resting after their ride together on Laurent’s twelfth birthday: “I think it would be nice to live in Akielos.”
Laurent had scrunched his face in confusion at the wish before Auguste explained with a chuckle, “Because of the sun. It would be wonderful to see it more often than a few choice days of the year.“
Auguste leaned back onto his discarded jacket, eyes closing in the spring sun that.
“It is more than a few choice days, and you would burn.”
Auguste opened one eye to peer at Laurent, shielding it from the sunlight with his hand. “Alright then, a few choice weeks. And you would burn too.” |
0ba6d045535146bfac56730472abccc3 | ['df3fbf4a96b34a91919e2aea1a0c77bc'] | Wally starts to buzz with anxious energy. What should he do? Not that he hadn’t been meaning to say the exact same words to her for some time. However, to find out that she said it to him without him even understanding the words that came out of her mouth? That secretive mysterious woman. A small smile made itself known on his lips.
-
It wasn’t until after two midterms does Wally builds up the courage to sort of confront Artemis about her mind games.
He was sitting on the kitchen table watching Artemis pitter patter around as she prepares dinner. Wally was supposed to help, but as per usual he ends up sitting at the table ‘to stop taking up space’ and ‘to stop being a human vacuum.’ Watching Artemis is something that Wally likes to refer to as his new hobby. Whenever he could, he would try to watch Artemis while she was unaware. It was during those moments where he would notice the way that a little crease would appear between her eyebrows when she really had to think about something, or when she would constantly rub her nose during allergy seasons to the point that her nose was constantly red, the only color he ever sees on her face unless it was one of those rare moments where he could make her flush to the point that it could be noticed through her skin.
Her nose would be red right now if he looked. Yep, red as his middle name. Smiling to himself, he gets up front the table and comes up behind Artemis. Wally slumps down so that he could wrap his arms around her middle, being mindful of her hands which were cutting up some mushrooms, and place his chin on her shoulder.
Wincing, Artemis tries to roll him off her shoulder, “Wally, your chin is pointy as hell. Get it off me.”
In retaliation Wally starts rubbing his chin along her shoulder and up her neck. Artemis shrieks and, fortunately, drops the knife in order to turn around and shove at Wally’s face. “Oh my god! Get out, get out, get out!”
Instead of heeding her words, he wraps his arms around her so that her arms are trapped against the side of her body and squeezes her in a one sided hug. He heaves with a huge sigh and sort of collapses on Artemis, not enough to send them onto the floor but enough for her to feel his weight. As a counterweight Artemis reaches around and grips at the back of Wally’s shirt and presses her face against his collarbone.
“What’s on your mind, ya big lug?”
Contemplating his words, Wally decides to say the first thing on his mind.
“Em yeu anh.”
Artemis jerks back and looks into those cool green orbs. “Where did you hear that phrase from?” she asks.
“From you and the internet.”
Scoffing and shoving his face enough to get him off of her, Artemis places her hands on her cocked hips and looks at Wally with a raised eyebrow. “No wonder,” she says turning around to continue chopping at the mushrooms, “You just called yourself a girl.”
“What?!” Wally exclaims.
Indignant, Wally goes back to the table only to slump over in a chair and continues watching Artemis pitter patter her way around the kitchen. His head on his arms, Wally smiles to himself and thinks that soon he’ll ask her to marry him. Maybe he’ll ask Dick for some jewelry recommendations and to spot him a couple thousand. Artemis would certainly kill him if he picks something that she deems ugly and knowing himself Wally probably would. He wasn’t known to be very perceptive in that aspect, but luckily for him he had a woman like Artemis in his life. A beautiful woman who doesn’t mind his shortcomings. So when Artemis glances back at him with a smile, Wally smiles back with as much warmth as he felt in his heart.
Yes definitely, he’ll ask her tonight.
**Author's Note:**
> After reading a post containing multiple ways of saying I love you I wanted to write about Artemis and her ethnic side. So I started with this piece and am still thinking of playing around with the idea, at least to create a better understanding of my own culture. Fun little note, it was this moment that I kind of liked this couple together. I like them written by the fans, but just not the way that they're portrayed through the show itself. | ebc838aefa82413abd5c572a61162353 | ['df3fbf4a96b34a91919e2aea1a0c77bc'] | “You’re not much of a bear I don’t think. Not wide enough.” Dick taps at his chin, pretending to overthink this. “I could have gotten you Stitch but he’s too cute for you. Also dude, you’re not an alien,” waving his head in the general direction of Conner and M’gann, “wouldn’t want to offend the local terrestrials. A flying squirrel could have worked. Definitely not an elephant because duh,” he points to himself, “that one’s mine. But then,” Dick gestures to the sky like he’s mapping out a rainbow, “I found the best thing ever. It screamed, ‘Buy me for Wally!’ And so I thought why the hell not.” Dick shrugs.
Grimacing down at the spots on his costume, Wally inquiries from Dick, “But why a giraffe?”
Shrugging from within his own blue Elephant costume, “Why not? You’re both freakishly tall for your age and have long clumsy limbs.” Attempting a cartwheel, Dick accidently steps on the bottom of his costume and almost lands himself onto his face which prompts a snort out of Wally. “Plus, you’re both yellow. I thought it just fit.”
“Dude, I’m never letting you buy us couple costumes ever again.”
6. Accusations
A rush of wind blows from behind Dick and brushes the bangs into his face, pausing, Dick regards the individual behind him.
“Good evening, Wally. How can I be of service to you today?”
“You have something that belongs to me Richard, I’d like to ask for it back.”
Continuing to type away on his keyboard Dick decided to play along. “Who do you think you’re accusing Mr. West?”
“I think I’m blaming the exact person that would dare to take my personal belongings, Mr. Grayson.”
Contemplating his next answer, Dick turns around to take in the explosion of red and freckles. “Does this have anything to do with what went missing this morning?”
“If that something was my double decker triple chocolate fudge peanut butter and almonds cake, then yes.”
Looking up at the boy who was staring down at him with a frown, Dick tilts his head in mock confusion. “We had something like that sitting around the house and you didn’t devour it right away?”
“I wanted to save it! It’s not like I inhale everything in sight!”
Not believing the words that had just came out of Wally’s mouth Dick raises his eyebrow at Wally incredulously and stands up from his perch at his desk, foregoing homework for a peruse in the kitchen. “You sure you didn’t misplace it like you always do?” He yells back at the redhead. A rush of air brushes at the nape of his neck. “Or are you just being lazy and not wanting to really look for it and you’re accusing me?”
“If I knew where it was, I wouldn’t be asking you now would I?”
Turning around to the body that was standing right behind him, Dick shrugs up at the boy. “Sometimes you do weird and mysterious things.” Leaning himself up onto his tippy toes, Dick brushes his lips against Wally’s before planting himself back onto his feet and a smile took over his face. “But that’s one of the reasons why I love you.” |
4f679a8c26344b8c8bc1983d11e894c4 | ['df4b1eb33d7a4af98c6e1709492c85f9'] |
1. Chapter 1
“Kill me now…” I muttered, lowering my head and essentially prepping to be taken from behind. I shared this thought with my friend/roommate Reyna, but she said I was gross.
I was amazed that so many people would willingly wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to contort themselves into more and more painful positions.
So yeah, I was doing yoga.
The instructors walked amongst the rows of people, they were two siblings, Austin and Kayla. Both were nice enough, I just didn’t understand why in the hell would you want to teach yoga. Like, really, why?
Upon reaching Reyna and I, Kayla leaned down and tapped my knees. “You’ve gotta stretch your legs out a bit more.”
I growled, but did as she said.
Another grueling hour passed, but I survived. I untied my body and stood, following Reyna to the front of the park where the car was.
I climbed into the passenger seat, perfectly ready to go home and take a nap, but it appeared as if Reyna had betrayed our friendship.
“Hey, we’re stopping by my coffee shop with Kayla and Austin, you have no choice.”
“But Reynaaaaaa” I groaned, “I wanna go hoooome…”
She slapped my arm, put on her purple aviator glasses, and took off driving.
“You know”, I said after a minute, “just because you flirt with a barista everytime you go in does not make it your coffee shop.”
“Shut up, yes it does.”
We arrived at a small building named ‘The Café Café’ after a couple minutes. A faded yellow punch buggy pulled in next to us. The familiar sight of Kayla and Austin in matching yellow shirts and black yoga pants stepped out and followed us in.
The yoga sibs ordered their coffee first, followed by me, intentionally leaving Reyna in the back so she could flirt longer with the partially blue haired barista.
“Why hello again Reyna.” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“You look ravishing as usual Thalia.”
“Oh stop it, you…”
“Thalia,” A man I hadn’t initially noticed chided, “you need to take her order so that everyone else can get their drinks.”
I did a double take; taking in his lithe yet muscular build, trying to process his sun-kissed tan skin, mop of golden hair, and startlingly blue eyes.
“Oh can it.” the punk girl sneered at him, then smiled, then turned back to us. “The usual?”
Reyna nodded and moved to the side so that the next customer could order.
I stood next to her, eyes locked on the golden boy behind the counter. The contrast between his tan skin and black polo was gorgeous. Despite the fact that he was just asking people what kind of drinks they wanted, his voice washed over me like waves at a beach. Ooh- Golden Boy at the beach… I wonder what’s under that black polo of his…
Reyna snapped her fingers in front of my eyes, bringing me back to reality. “Nico!”
“Huh? What?” I shook my head, clearing the thoughts of Goldens Boy’s (probably sculpted) beach bod.
“And you made fun of me for liking a barista.” Reyna laughed.
“Wha-What!?” I spluttered, “I do not like a barista… You’re crazy!”
“Oh please!” Reyna waved a hand through the air in a ‘you’ve gotta be bullshitting me’ gesture. “You stared so hard, I’m amazed there aren’t holes in his shirt!”
I could feel my face reddening, but what was I supposed to do!? I made fun of Reyna for so long over her flirting with Thalia that she’d never let me hear the end of it if I did the same.
“His name is Will. He’s Austin and Kayla’s brother.”
Will, huh? I could work with that…
“Is he a zen hippie too?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t the same as his siblings.
Reyna snorted, “I’ll let you ask the ‘zen hippies’ about him, I don’t know that much.”
I immediately wished I hadn’t asked.
As soon as Reyna mentioned his name, Austin and Kayla lit up.
“Oh Will is great!” Kayla started, a broad smile stretching across her face.
“Yeah,” Austin agreed, “He’s a really chill dude. When he’s not at work, he’s usually volunteering at the hospital or down at the beach. Sometimes he comes to visit our yoga class. And-”
“Ok, hold it,” I interrupted, making a ‘time-out’ gesture, “You sound like a dating profile. All I asked was if he was a yogi too, you skipped right over the question.”
“Teeeechnically,” Reyna started, “Austin answered your question.”
“Yeah, but it took him about four months to do it. Fight me, Reyna.”
She put her hands up boxer style and lightly tapped my bicep, but then started laughing.
“BACK TO WILL!” Kayla exclaimed, snapping us back to reality. “He’s bisexual, but girls haven’t been to good to him lately. Austin and I have been trying to set him up with a nice guy for awhile now, but no good candidates have come along.”
“Does Will know about this?” Reyna asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“He knows that we’ve been introducing him to people, but as far as we know, he hasn’t caught on that it’s romantic.” Austin answered.
I leaned back in my seat, digesting the information. ‘So he’s bi… That means I have a chance. WAIT- How do I even know I’ll like him? I haven’t even talked to the guy! C’mon Nico, you’re not a love-struck 13 year old- handle this like an adult!'
While I was thinking, the conversation topic had changed.
“So yeah, I was thinking about taking her to the beach. The only thing is, we’ve only ever flirted over a countertop, what if one of us gets nervous and things get awkward? I guess I’ll just have to walk into the water and just not stop until I reach land again.”
A potentially-devious thought flashed into my mind. | 1056702cefbb40108e69c563c8957992 | ['df4b1eb33d7a4af98c6e1709492c85f9'] | Mr. Brunner smiled, “Of course, these families volunteered because they want to help you. If you’re sure of your decision, you should probably go talk to Percy, get acquainted. He goes to this school too. There’s something else, something he asked me not to tell you. I believe he wants to tell you himself. Anyway, he’s in most of the same classes as you. If I’m not wrong, your lunch period is beginning now. Go, try to make friends, it’ll do you some good. I’ll contact your mother and the Jacksons.”
I nodded. “I’ll try my best to make friends, but I’ve never been very social. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Brunner.”
“You too, Mr. di Angelo.”
The cafeteria wasn’t as intimidating as I’d imagined, about a hundred students in all, spread out across the faux wood tables. Suddenly, I heard a call. “Nico! Hey! Over here!”
I turned to look at who was saying my name. It was the boy from the photograph. Percy. “Um, hi.” I began, sitting across from the black haired boy. “We haven’t met yet, but Mr. Brunner told me to make friends with you. I’m gonna be staying with your family for a while.”
Percy shifted in his seat. “Well, we actually have met before, you weren’t conscious.”
I stiffened. ‘He didn’t even seem fazed that I would be staying with him! We haven’t even met bef- Wait! This is the boy that saved me? He certainly doesn’t seem like the hero type, more like a class clown if you ask me...’ “You were the one who saved me?”
He nodded. “I don’t know if ‘saved’ is the right word. All I did if find you and bring you to the nurse. Will did his best to bandage you with what he had. Jason ‘lead’ the whole thing. You should thank them before me.”
“I suppose that’s true. Anyway, thank you. When I got to the hospital, one of the nurses told me that if I had been found any later, the blood loss could have been life-threatening. If it weren’t for you and the others, I could’ve died.”
Percy’s tan skin seemed to lose a bit of it’s color. “You’re welcome, I’m glad to have helped.”
The situation was becoming increasingly awkward, and frankly, I didn’t know how to make it better.
It was at that moment that three people made their way towards our table, A blonde boy, a blonde girl, and a native american girl. Percy seemed relieved. “Hey guys! This is the famous Nico di Angelo. Nico, these are some of my friends: Jason, Annabeth, and Piper.”
Jason set down his tray and shook my hand. “It’s nice to see that you’ve gotten better.” He turned his head, “Jackson, don’t think just because we have Nico here that I’m gonna go easy on you.”
Percy smiled the same grin from the photograph. “Oh wah wah! The line was short and I was hungry. At least you still had the others.”
‘Lord, how many kids does he hang out with?’ I thought to myself. As I had told Mr. Brunner, I had never been social. If I have to deal with a lot of kids, this situation might not work out.
As if on cue, three more people walked in the direction of our table. This time there was an asian boy, an african american girl, and a latino boy. The boys were staring each other down while the girl told a story. As soon as they reached our table, the staring contest ended, but the tension remained.
The girl gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh! Are you Nico? Percy and Jason went on and on about you! Well, they described you and what happened.”
Piper smirked at the (obviously sugar rush-ing) girl. “Yeah, Percy wouldn’t shut up about how ‘adorable’ you were.”
Percy’s head snapped up from it’s previous position. “Piper! Hazel! Stop!” His tan cheeks had taken on a red hue. “The poor boy doesn’t need to hear what I thou- I mean… He doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened!”
Note to self: Never give any of these people sugar, they’re already hyper enough.
I put my head against the table, trying to hide the blush that I felt spreading across my face. From behind my arms, I said to the group, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Those words could not have been more false.
The group was, contrary to my first thoughts, quite calming. They joked around and just had a good time. I was involved in the conversation, but my head circled around one thought:
‘Percy thought I was cute’
3. Quick Question
Just a quick question to really anyone who sees this:
Do you think it would be better if Nico lived with Reyna? It's just a thought that popped into my head and I'm really liking it. Your input would be very much appreciated
4. One more thing
Just one more thing I want to tell you people, I'm working on a different Nico-based fic. that should be out soon. It focuses on him trying to find someone after seeing his roomate Reyna in a happy relationship. The title, if all goes as planned, will be Love at The Café Café. I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to check it out! |
fbab4d9b0d504e94939cfcd1c76f9489 | ['df62afb74fb141e8b5e6d0b3a51536c4'] |
Firecracker
**Author's Note:**
> From the prompt sent by darkeecofreak on Tumblr:
>
> "erol/jinx? Maybe Jinx and Erol met via Krew and decided to have a drink together?"
The Hip Hog was relatively busy for a weekday night, Erol noted with disdain as he settled into a booth. Perhaps doing his report on metal head activity in a bar wasn’t exactly the wisest of plans. But, it was one of the few places he wouldn’t be bothered by guards of a lower rank asking him to do their job for them. And he knew most of the time citizens wouldn’t dare approach. Unless they were his fans of course. And he doubted he’d find any in this shady slum of a bar.
Honestly, it wouldn’t be so bad if the man at the front of the bar would just shut the fuck up. He knew Krew drew in the… _unsavoury_ sort of crowd but this asshole was just getting ridiculous. His voice carried over all the general buzz, and he was puffing on his cigar like there was no tomorrow. If Erol wasn’t off duty now he had half a mind just to slam his fist into the greasy thug’s face.
The waitress worked her way over to him, and he simply ordered a glass of water before he took out his datapad and began typing.
“Ayyyyeeee it ain’t no sweat, sweet cheeks. I make sure to get payment up front. It ain’t my problem whether things fuck up from then on. Shit’s gonna blow when shit’s gonna blow.”
Erol clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
_August 22 - Metal heads spotted north east. Two squads were sent out, only one came back. Reports from squadron one claim that a nest of …_
“ _BOOM_ baby! Hahaha! From statue to pebbles. I’d say nice work.”
“Shhh, Jinx. Keep your voice down,” the bartender hissed.
“And why should I? I came here to have a good time; everyone came here to have a good time, so let’s have a good time!” The loud mouth thug roared and Erol’s fist slammed on the tabletop, hard enough to make the whole thing shake.
“Some people would have an even better time if they didn’t have to listen to your incessant and annoying babbling.” Erol shouted without looking up. The bar fell silent and all eyes fell on the Commander. Great. So much for a productive evening.
The man who Erol assumed was Jinx turned in his seat. “You got a problem with me?”
Erol snorted, sliding closer to the edge of the booth. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“Hmmmm, babe. Get me two of my regulars, one for Mr. Sunshine over here.” With a hop out of his seat Jinx sauntered over casually. He placed a hand on the table and leaned over Erol, close enough to smell the musk of sweat and smoke. He was not a face Erol recognized, but judging by his familiarity with the bartender he obviously came here often enough. Definitely one of Krew’s. His chin was dusted with a light five o'clock shadow, and his slick back dirty blond hair was tied back into a tight ponytail. Erol watched the flexing of his jawline as Jinx chewed on the end of his cigar. The blonde took a slow and casual puff, letting his lips curve it what would have been a very sensual “o” shape had he not directly exhaled all his smoke directly at the Commander’s face. Erol waved the air, his lip upturning in disgust as he firmly placed a hand against Jinx’s sweat stained shirt and shoved hard. Jinx stumbled back slightly, but he seemed unfazed. “Relax Red, I ain’t here to start somethin’.”
“Then get your greasy face out of mine and shut the hell up,” Erol snarled viciously. He was hoping his KG uniform would be enough to deter the man away but the blonde man seemed completely unbothered.
“S'ok,” Jinx mumbled into the cigar, “I like ‘em feisty.” Erol bristled as Jinx slid into the seat opposite him, and waved down the bartender. “Ey, Tess baby, where are those Firestarters? My friend here’s getting impatient.” Green eyes drifted to the small screen on the table. “You working on something, Gingersnaps?”
“I don’t want your shitty drinks!” Erol exclaimed, snatching up his datapad and getting to his feet. He had enough of this shit. He shoved past the bartender, knocking one of the fire-red ales out of her hand, sending the glass smashing to the floor. Feeling slightly guilty (a feeling he was unfamiliar with, and quickly shoved it down), he muttered adding it to his tab and stormed out the door into the cool night of the port. Once the saloon’s doors slid closed behind him silence engulfed him, save for the shallow waves of the port. He closed his eyes for a brief second.
The doors slid open behind him and he felt a slap on his back. “Heeey, there ya are, Red, bit rude to leave like that but I’ll forgive ya. How about a dance? That should help you vent off some steam.”
Erol’s gloved fist collided with Jinx’s chin, promptly shutting up the dirty blond thug as he was sent spiralling to the ground. Jinx landed hard on his ass, dazed, followed by his half used cigar.
Erol cracked his knuckles, looking down at the scruffy man. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think this method works just fine.”
With a hard turn on his heel Erol walked swiftly to his parked zoomer. Unfortunately, his head collided into the smooth metal with a crack before he could even fish out the keys. Stars exploded in front of him as he swayed and fell forward, sliding down against the sleek, but now dented side of the vehicle with a low groan. He barely registered the rough hands gripping the back his uniform and forcing him upwards. “You know, for a complete asshole you’re still fucking attractive,” Jinx breathed heavily into his ear. Erol didn’t reply, his head was still swimming. “It’s unfortunate you’re such a damn fire-cracker. Fuck.” The arms dropped him suddenly and Erol hit the ground hard. He gasped for air, as any sense of breathing was completely knocked out of his lungs. Jinx came into his view, standing over him, his discarded cigar resuming its same position between his yellowed teeth. He grinned as he flicked his lighter, illuminating his face, green eyes reflecting the flame as he lit the end of the smoke. “I like your moves though. You got a nice uppercut, I’ll give ya that.” He breathed in, and then exhaled with a sigh. He tapped the end of the cigar, ash falling onto Erol’s metal breastplate. “Maybe next time we meet you could maybe do something more uhhh… productive with those hands of yours, huh Gingersnaps?”
“And maybe I can do something with that mouth,” Erol wheezed out as threatening as possible. Jinx laughed.
“See ya around, Red. Don’t work too hard.” The blond disappeared from view and Erol was left on the concrete alone and in a furious state of embarrassment. | f9407adf63fc4a1cb9e79cad02d49218 | ['df62afb74fb141e8b5e6d0b3a51536c4'] |
Blue Rain
**Author's Note:**
> Happy Fallout 4 Day! Here's a small introspective piece between Dogmeat and the Sole Survivor. Beginning game spoilers...but if you were really worried about that, why are you looking up Fallout 4 fanfiction on AO3?
Nora smelled rain in the air. It was something she didn't think she would miss as much as she did, but when the stars became blotted out by dark clouds and drops of water began to fall like tears she felt a sense of relief. Finally, it was something that reminded her of home.
She shifted the weight of her knapsack, and whistled. Sure enough, her faithful German Shepherd companion trotted over from behind a bush, his tail waggling.
"Look like it's gonna rain, Bud. Let's say we find somewhere to camp down for the night?" With a quiet bark, the dog jogged ahead of her. Nora kept her Chinese assault rifle poised as she followed in suit. Even though it had already been a few days since she left the Vault she still felt incredibly jumpy. Having a friend along--even one who couldn't talk--was a mild comfort out in the bastardization of a world she once called home.
The dog (whom she had taken to nicknaming him Bud) stopped at entrance of a cul-de-sac in the suburban neighbourhood. He turned his head to her, panting and wagging his tail. She followed, stepping carefully and quietly across the cracked pavement, unsure of what horror she might come across.
The houses were in shambles, just remnants of what they used to be...back in her time. Sunken roofs and broken beams were all there was to greet her instead of pristine lawns and white-picket fences. There was no warm glow of dining room lights through glass windows, or smoke pluming from chimneys on a cool autumn night. Nora felt a pang in her chest, a longing for her time, and the comforts of home.
As she carefully made her way over fallen debris, the dog sniffed ahead of her, going from house to house. Perhaps in the morning she would scavenge, there was bound to be something useful here, provided someone else didn't already get to it first.
The sole survivor picked a modest looking place, it was in ruins but it wasn't the worst of the bunch, nor was it the best. The porch worn and water-rotted. There was no door, and the back wall near the kitchen was completely blown out, but at least it had a roof. Rain was beginning to fall lightly as she raised the gun and checked every corner, not trusting her environment. Bud seemed content as he bounded up the steps. He shook off the rain drops on his fur and trotted through the debris happily, sniffing anything and everything. Seeing her canine friend happy but her at ease, and she lowered the gun. This would be fine for the night.
With the barely illuminated light from the flashlight on her Pip-Boy, it took a few minutes to go through the house. Underneath chunks of plaster and wood she found some materials, but there wasn't much. The fridge was empty, as were the cabinets. Clearly this place had been cleaned out some time within the 200 years. It was another night of going hungry.
Nora was lucky enough to find towels still in the bathroom and she gathered them, preparing to make herself a bed for the night. Still feeling insecure she set up inside the master bedroom walk-in closet. Once she was satisfied with her work she rolled up one more towel for a pillow and laid on the sheets, her gun beside her and still close on hand. The closet itself wasn't big, barely a hole in the wall but it gave her a sense of comfort and relief knowing she was hidden out of sight. Still, she won't allow herself to sleep. She couldn’t.
Bud entered the room a little while later, looking confused. She whistled to him and he nudged the closet door open with his snout, circling around a few times before curled up beside her. Nora ran a hand through his fur, feeling comforted by his presence, and despite herself she eventually fell asleep to the soft rainfall.
Her dreams were distorted and confusing, interwoven with memories and fears.
Kisses and blaring alarms. Vows and Vault doors. Wedding rings and nuclear bombs. Honeymoons and frozen caskets. Screaming babies and robotic faces.
A gunshot and lifeless eyes.
She felt her lungs begin to freeze as the glass frosted over and she can't see Shaun anymore. She can't see Nate, she can't see. Her voice is useless, she can't breathe. There's nothing left but ice in her chest, a raw and piercing point through her heart. She can't move her legs, her feet, she can't scream, she can't do anything. It isn't just a cryogenic pod anymore.
It's a frozen tomb.
Nora awoke with a start, gasping for breath. It was dark in the closet, too dark, and she couldn't see. She felt like she was being suffocated, unable to catch her breath. Her breathing was laboured and shaky as she felt her whole world tip upside down. "Nate? Shaun?!" She gasped out. When she heard no response reality slammed back into her. Nate was dead. Shaun was kidnapped. This wasn't home. Even though she had awoken, she was still living a nightmare. She may never see Shaun again. She would die never knowing where and what happened to her son. She was a failed mother, stuck in a cryogenic chamber unable to do anything while she watched her son be ripped from her dead husband's arms.
She felt blindly through the dark for her Pip-Boy and gun, desperate for anything to ground her, but instead met with a pair of fuzzy ears and a high-pitched whine as something wet licked the tears from her face. Nora wrapped her arms around the dog and wept silently. Bud stayed still patiently until she was done and laid back down beside her, his flank pressed to her side and his head on her shoulder with a warmth to remind her she wasn't alone in this.
In the morning she put her Pip-Boy back on and picked up her gun, her ever faithful friend beside her as they headed back outside, the sun barely peaking over the horizon and painting the world of grey and blue with golden hues. She scratched her arm and gave a small smile as Bud trotted up to her, with a stick in his mouth. "Give it here," she chuckled and he dropped it into her hand. She gripped the stick and drew her arm back, throwing the piece of wood as hard as she could. Bud took off like a shot, chasing after the stick with a reckless abandon. Only a mutt would have such sheer joy and optimism in such a pessimistic, barren place. Perhaps she needed to learn to let go, adapt and move on.
Nora may not know where she was going, or how to find her son, but at least she knew that she had someone with her no matter what, a companion to the very end.
Even if he did have fleas. |
d8dfb0e9c6ca4266bd483a3206818697 | ['df85542a03ce4df586f23bd4ffec89c1'] | The 100% True and Accurate Account of Whence We Came
Legends say that once upon a time we were but brute creatures, trapped voicelessly and without technology in a swampy past, until we all suddenly died.
Then at some point a mischievous creator found remnants, and with a spark of genius and will, breathed new life into us on a small island, where our ancestors lived brief and still dumb but satisfying lives.
Some ancestors escaped the island and hid themselves in lush jungles, where, by having ingested scientists and science and through accidents involving microwave emissions, gamma rays, RNA-splicing viruses, and eating GMO fauna and flora, rapid evolution became possible and they discovered other species' culture by picking up transmissions of Jersey Shore, Survivor s68, and One Piece. It is believed that this confluence of events in our misty past let us appropriate and develop technology culminating in our creation of claw-compatible e-readers and time-travel devices to rescue more of our distant kin, the building of suitable habitats on underutilized real estate, and the development of appropriate university curricula around "in-groups and out-groups, digesting SJWs as duty vs pleasure" and "correct condiments for first contact."
I cannot speak to the whole and entire accuracy of this, but various versions of these origin legends are told in our hatchgroups.
**Author's Note:**
> A gentlefailer asked "I'm a folklore buff and love hearing first-person accounts of folk tales and beliefs from different parts of the world. Given that we have such a diverse group of nonnies, I'd love to hear some of yours. I particularly enjoy creatures of all descriptions." | 77637715a137499d875bff929a9dcc24 | ['df85542a03ce4df586f23bd4ffec89c1'] | (Marx: if remember right from ancient history lecture, was briefly popular fiction writer of family values and industrialization stories, also part of comedy trio -- others in trio may have been Freud and Jung Werther, also focused on alienation and production of family structures? -- but Marx's societal critique never took off in a big way, except for "North and South" which was adapted multiple times.)
Webcomic idea seemed entirely logical while drinking, but now, more sober, v. doubtful it makes sense or could ever gain viewers. Still, didn't tell third-favorite clutch-sib that; want to stay encouraging, not be party-pooping naysayer, also continue getting access to clutch-sib's amazing stash of liquor.
* * *
Dear Diary,
In awe of some of our expedition research leaders. Senior sociology lecturer Professor McGonagall (apparently named for ancient major literary figure?) and Esteemed Chronoflexene Scholar Neill Sam kept meme (and those of us on base) enthralled for hours with tale of "Magdalene laundry." Have never seen such teamwork and skill at using ancient search tools plus such brilliant live application of social behavior modeling techniques.
* * *
Dear Diary,
As part of fifth-favorite clutch-sib's research assignment into "Appropriation or Archiving – Meanings from Context" took quick hop back several decades to help raid BBC vaults.
Must say, that one quarry was indeed used *very* often. Also, decades later, internet still appears pissed at not being able to rewatch episodes we saved masters of. Bloody ungrateful. Can only hope their descendants in another hundred or so years are more appreciative.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Discovered had written brilliant crossover fic about Sei Shōnagon meeting Mr. Darcy and killing aliens with him (zombies so passé) while engaging in witty banter about modern manners and polite society. Hundreds of comments, thousands of kudos, recced everywhere.
Woke up, realized all a dream. Still not beloved Shonanonny, nor creator of LINK, nor BNF fic writer. Instead must reformat and index all of Dr. Treebeard's notes before tonight's new episode of GSI: Sparklesilver (the one with the soulbonded vampire whales); Dr. T big fan, gets crotchety if work remains undone before airtime.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Today, entertained self by attempting to learn to chop actual onion to celebrate three years on base, two years on meme. YouTube videos all lies, plus extremely ableist – do not provide for claws *at all*.
* * *
Dear Diary,
For first unsupervised research assignment, made small skip to a few years back with two clutch-sibs. Unfortunately, jumped too far and discovered meme does not yet exist, nor does Teen Wolf.
In absence of other entertainment, clutch-sibs and I went on internet, and under various names started asking questions about writing "the other" of midlist genre writer. Eventually discovered and took over "50poc_books" community. (Note to self: look up what are "poc" and "race" – these concepts seem to be interestingly incendiary ones to internet.) Can't wait to hop ahead during next few days and angel-fund Tumblr while, with rest of hatchgroup, developing amusing new "winterfox" identity.
* * *
Dear Diary,
In the middle of writing primer for exciting fandom I just found, involves men with sticks. Am attempting to get primer reviewed and recced everywhere. Can't wait to see what meme and rest of internet think of it. Also non-media-fandom fans of men with sticks.
(Who knew? Hot TA from one of the older hatchings recently gave informative presentation on different types of fans and fandoms. And not just that anime and doujinshi stuff which some of the other hatchings are really into! Learned that some humans travel long distances to attend "concerts" or "fanciers' shows" or "games" – including for certain groups that meet as rarely as every four years – and barely interact through normal internet channels. Peculiar but fascinating behavior.)
* * *
Dear Diary,
Continue to love AMA threads. Pretending to be CIA!nonny using only secondary sources (fics, Bond movies, TV series starring Angela Chase) as prior research incredibly fun. Some day, should maybe actually read some non-fiction about Agency. Or not, probably v. dull.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Went to Wiscon with favorite (NFHA) clutch-sib. Naturally had to pretend not to know each other during meme meetup (and were disguised as humans. Cheap holodisguises v. irritating, chafe enormously. Tried and failed not to be envious of more senior, better funded researchers who get to use the latest, high-quality, non-chafing holocamouflage).
Panels okay but bit boring. Meetup v. disappointing; clutch-sib and I agreed afterwards that none of the other anons we met was ur-Sunny, plus one of them tasted distinctly off, even with ketchup *and* mustard.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Why do I always have to pretend to be Pinkie Pie? Thought life as time-traveling grad student would be much more glamorous. Instead am regularly forced to imitate *adorable* mammal on internet whenever Prof M says I haven't used correct citation format in rough notes, and worse, am under cruel ban from joining clutch-mates in 1966 tonight to watch The Avengers.
V. underwhelmed by recent film by the way. No sight of Emma Peel who is much hotter in catsuit than redhaired actress or annoying shield-slinging blond. (Note to self: when have free time again, must remember to troll meme about annoying shield-slinging blond or fandom's inability to write darkhaired attractive (because most-velociraptor-like) character sympathetically enough.)
* * *
Dear Diary,
After asking third-favorite clutch-sib last night (firm denial), today in all-hands and research review meeting asked which one of us was WS. Everyone including senior lecturers strenuously denied, even when swearing on Prof. M's first edition of "Spock's World." Also everyone said had no intentions to jump back and become WS. |
36f9c59e2ba345cc941820c43e4d2080 | ['df945f6dddfd4ab9b42191254026a10d'] | Minghao’s reply reads: _Fuck, fine. I’m on my way to your place._
He arrives only about five minutes after Mingyu receives the message. Not because he used super human speed to run all the way to his boyfriend’s apartment a la Edward Cullen, but because they only lived a few blocks away from each other. He lands two sharp knocks on the front door and Mingyu feels himself begin to tremble all over. A strange mix of anticipation and apprehension washes over him as he pulls open the door.
Minghao seems tiny where he stands in the dimly lit hallway of Mingyu’s apartment building. He looks small and tired and sad in his ripped jeans and oversized hoodie, anxious and unhappy as he fiddles with the drawstrings hanging from his hood. Mingyu feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world and says as much.
“I’m the biggest piece of shit in the world, oh my god.” He blurts.
Minghao gives him a sharp look at that, sharp like the ones he gives Mingyu when he says he should work out more or eat less or apply sunscreen more often. Like whatever Mingyu is saying about himself is making him unhappy. He sighs once, hard and heavy.
“No, you’re not.” His voice is soft, exasperated at the edges but fond.
At least, Mingyu _hopes_ that’s fondness he hears.
“I-I’m not?”
“You’re not. Now are you going to let me in or what?”
Mingyu ducks his head in embarrassment and shuffles out of the way so Minghao can come inside. How long had he been standing there, in the way? Minghao heads straight for the shitty couch and collapses onto it with another world-weary sigh. Mingyu moves so he’s looming in front of Minghao like the awkward noodle of a boy that he is.
“Look I-I’m sorry, for what I said. I wasn’t thinking, but that isn’t an excuse. I was inconsiderate a-and _stupid_ and I’m sorry.” He knows his apology is a bit of a mess, but he’s a bit of a mess himself so it’s only fitting.
“I know. I forgive you.” Minghao says, just like that. Easy as pie.
“You do?” Mingyu asks, disbelief coloring his face and words.
He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.
“Yeah. To be honest, I was never really that angry to begin with. I was hurt but not by-I just-I-” He seems to be gathering his words as well as the courage to speak them. “Do you want a different boyfriend?”
Mingyu feels his eyebrows shoot up his face, in both shock and confusion. He- _what_?
“What?” He has no idea what this is about.
Minghao doesn’t seem to be able to meet his eyes. “Do you ever want a different-a _human_ boyfriend?”
“I don’t understand, Hao. What is-where is all of this coming from?”
Minghao still won’t look at him. His gaze is fixed upon his own fingers where they’re tugging at a loose piece of thread hanging from the knee of his pants.
“I-I know you like to take pictures and shit with you friends. When you go places and stuff. You _love_ photography. And I know your fingers always get cold, and I only make them colder when we hold hands. But I _want_ to warm them up for you, and I want-”
Mingyu cuts him off. “Minghao, none of that is important.”
The boy in question sniffles a bit, like he might have been close to tears, and finally, _finally_ looks up at his boyfriend.
“It doesn’t?” His voice is tiny, microscopic.
Mingyu realizes this must have been bothering him for a long time. He sinks onto the couch next to Minghao and looks at him with the sincerest expression he can muster.
“No. I don’t care that we can’t take pictures together, and I don’t care that your fingers are always freezing. I don’t care about all of the little quirks that come with dating vampire. I just-I love you? _You_ , just you. I don’t want you to be something that you aren’t, Hao. I just want you.”
Minghao is crying now, but only a little. Mingyu doesn’t comment on it, just wipes away the few trickling tears with a gentle thumb.
“I love you so much, even though you told me to go look in a mirror.” He warbles, watery but bright.
Mingyu pulls him easy into his arms. “I love you too.”
**Author's Note:**
> I'm not happy with this exactly but its here so?? You can blame Diamond Edge for this fic because I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ship since I saw them interacting irl. Also apparently I've created an entire AU? I've started a Verkwan fic in this universe. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. If you want, you can find me on the ol' blue hellsite LINK. | 388607e0fa74450dbadeb2ee691cbf99 | ['df945f6dddfd4ab9b42191254026a10d'] | In the years since Jihoon became a well-adjusted and emotionally sophisticated young man, he has had little to no reason to reflect back on that time of his life. But over the last two or so weeks he has come to understand that a healthy dose of self-reflection never hurt anybody. And on his recent path of self-reflection he had realized that all of his eighth-grade angst wasn’t actually as far behind him as he would have liked it to be.
Because, as he sits at their poorly constructed, wobbly-legged E-Mart dining table, he feels much like he did all those years ago. That is: angry and annoyed, with a sneaking suspicion that the whole world is plotting against him, all while trying to snatch some of Seungkwan’s sweet and sour pork without being noticed.
Dinnertime doesn’t ordinarily bring on episodes of nostalgic self-analysis for Jihoon, but there’s a first time for everything.
They’ve ordered in Chinese from the good place by the subway station, the one that always seems to quell Minghao’s homesickness a bit. It’s more expensive than a lot of the less authentic places closer by, but it’s great, better than great really. Jihoon can’t feel his lips or tongue from the sheer amount of chili oil coating his noodle dish, the name of which he butchered horribly, but he savors the sensation. It helps to distract him from the cause of his vexation; the fact that, for the second time in as many days, he is pressed between Junhui and Wonwoo.
He’s trying his absolute best to just focus on his food. He keeps reminding himself that if he just powers through the meal he’ll be free to retire to his room where he can suffer through his minor existential crisis in peace.
The others are chattering on as they usually do, stealing from each other’s plates and sharing drinks and pretending like their mouths aren’t on fire. (Seungcheol is seated down at the other end of the table, dangerously red in the face, panting over his chicken stir-fry). Their voices meld together with the ambient sounds of clinking glasses and metal chopsticks hitting melamine dishware to create a comfortably distracting cacophony.
It doesn’t do enough. Jihoon can still feel the insistent heat radiating from the bodies on either side of him, driving him slowly mad. He tries to focus in on a single voice, tries to occupy his mind by eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation, but then Wonwoo makes a noise. It’s a tiny thing, almost inaudible, but distressed enough that Jihoon’s wandering attention latches onto it immediately.
He turns curiously to find the other boy pulling a piece of sautéed squid from mouth, expression distinctly displeased. After setting it aside on a napkin, he peers down at the contents of his takeout bowl with a pensive expression. Even from where he’s sitting Jihoon can tell that the vegetable fried rice Wonwoo ordered is overflowing with an assortment of seafood. Large pink prawns lay in the grains amongst curling pieces of squid and crispy little fried anchovies. Judging from the amount of food remaining in the bowl, Jihoon figures Wonwoo couldn’t have taken more than a few bites.
“Hey,” he says, catching the other boy’s attention, “do you want some of this?”
Wonwoo eyes go to the food first then to Jihoon’s face and he opens his mouth as if to reply. However, halfway through the motion he freezes with his gaze caught somewhere below Jihoon’s nose. A beat passes and then another while Jihoon wait’s for Wonwoo to gather his bearings, but he simply sits there, frozen. He doesn’t even seem to blink.
With a jolt, Jihoon realizes Wonwoo is staring at his _mouth_.
“Uh, is there food on my mouth or something?” He asks, wiping at his face self-consciously.
“What?” Wonwoo’s voice is distant, like his mind is off somewhere else.
Jihoon clears his throat awkwardly. “I-is there something on my face? You’re kind of…staring.”
Wonwoo finally looks at him then, in the eyes. There’s a slight flush high on his cheekbones, as if he’s embarrassed by his own behavior.
“Sorry. Just-your lips-the sauce made your lips swollen.”
“Oh.” Is all Jihoon can think to say back. He isn’t sure he understands.
Still feeling self-conscious, he licks at his tingling mouth anxiously. Wonwoo’s gaze follows the motion intently, pupils blowing wide and dark as he does. The veins in his throat stretch and tighten as he swallows hard. He seems to be in some sort of daze as he reaches one fine-boned hand up towards Jihoon’s face, allowing a rough thumb to find its way to the corner of Jihoon’s mouth.
“You look like you’ve been…kissed.” He admits, tone low and reverent.
He presses his thumb against the sensitive, reddened flesh of Jihoon’s bottom lip. In response, something warm and intoxicating unfurls deep in Jihoon’s belly. He is struck with the odd desire to lick across the calloused pad of Wonwoo’s thumb and suck the digit into his mouth, to taste the salt of his skin.
Down the table, Joshua crows away at one of Seokmin’s cheesy jokes. The spell is broken. They turn away from each other, both pink in the cheeks and not quite sure of what just transpired. Neither of them speak as they busy themselves with their meals once again. Wonwoo picks around the seafood in his rice without another peep. Jihoon pretends he isn’t watching the other boy from the corner of his eye all the while. |
42225c628da348c4a793f6577ef95940 | ['df9e1a940a3b4fc087aefb06086efa61'] | to dance with a stranger
**Author's Note:**
> this was written very quickly + not proofread!
Laughter and conversation danced around the small reception hall, blending with the music coming from one end and creating a blissful, happy atmosphere. The bride and groom sat at one table, talking to anyone and everyone and casting the occasional smile at each other. It was a happy, beautiful night, with nothing to tarnish the happiness and love that the two of them and their families were feeling. Even as the groom stood up to dance, his bride didn’t feel alone for a moment, smiling as she watched him stumble occasionally but grin all the same. Hiyori’s new husband was a goofy man, but for that, she loved him.
As he accepted one dance after another, more guests followed in his path, and before long, the room was filled with dancers. Some were better than others, some were just being silly; but it was a wonderful sight, Hiyori thought. Maybe she’d join in. Instead of following through with the thought, she simply brought her glass to her lips again, and watched her family - both old and new - have a good time.
Another few minutes passed just like that, with nearly every person in the room dancing with someone or another. Except for the bride herself, it seemed. No longer content with being left out, Hiyori stood up to join the crowd, adjusting her dress as she did so. Just as she rose to her feet, she had a sensation; like she wasn’t alone anymore. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but looking around - she saw nothing and nobody new.
That is, until he spoke.
“Hiya, Hiyori!” The man - _ stranger _ \- was, in fact, right in front of her. It was seemingly out of nowhere, and the young woman felt a little startled at the fact; but his outfit was even more odd. He was wearing what looked like a tracksuit, which was totally unfitting for a wedding, but somehow, she wasn’t offended by the fact. The stranger offered out his hand in the silent question of _ will you dance with me _ ?
Hiyori would have sworn by it - she’d never seen this man in her life. But something about that grin of his was just charming enough for her to let her guard down; and it was that combined with his sky-colored eyes that drew her in. Almost unwillingly, driven by some instinct, Hiyori accepted his outstretched hand, and the dark-haired stranger didn’t hesitate for a moment. She didn’t know this man. She’d never even seen him before. But somehow, his steps felt familiar and natural, and she’d never fallen into a dance so easily in her life; not even while dancing with her new husband.
The jersey-wearing stranger had a unique dancing style; but it wasn’t difficult to match. Effortlessly, she glided right along with him, the hubbub of the reception hall nearly fading away as each became entranced by the dance. Hiyori almost wanted to ask, _ who are you? _ , but the silence felt so natural and comfortable that she didn’t bother doing so. For now, dancing with this stranger was more than enough. It made her feel _ happy _ , strangely enough. The two of them hardly noticed as the dancers around them stepped off to the side, intrigued by the natural and almost beautiful style in which Hiyori danced with what they all knew as nobody but a stranger.
To the guests watching, it was a few minutes; but to the jersey-wearing stranger, it was the eternity he’d been longing for.
With each step, he knew they were coming closer to the last, but he selfishly continued, not sparing so much as a glance to Hiyori’s friends, family, and husband.
And before long, that eternity was shattered.
“Hiyori, dear!” Called a voice from the small crowd; the voice of the bride’s mother. “Could you come here for just a moment?”
“Ah, sure thing!” Hiyori let her hands slowly fall from the stranger’s, but something made her hesitate for only a moment. She stepped towards where her mother’s voice called from, but as she did so, she gave the man she had danced with a glance. He was still smiling, as he had been; but there was something sad about it. After a moment, she broke away from his azure gaze and stepped away from him.
As Hiyori approached her mother, she spared a glance over her shoulder.
But she didn’t even know what she was looking for - as nobody was there. | 4887e687d0e342bcb5a9da897b7a4e7a | ['df9e1a940a3b4fc087aefb06086efa61'] | Opening his text messages again, he looked at the two he’d just sent the teenager, still not receiving a response. Hiyori usually responded fairly quickly. There were only a couple reasons for her not to. Yato didn’t dwell on them, though; instead he went to make another, choosing his word choice carefully.
_ Hiyori, are you getting these? Are you coming home soon?? It’s been weeks. _
His thumb hesitated over the send button for a moment, but then he hit it. The message went through, he saw, but after a couple minutes, there still wasn’t an answer. Maybe she was just busy, he told himself, blatantly ignoring the worst-case scenario that his brain was shoving at him. Just busy, is all.
Finally, Yato heaved a heavy sigh, placing the phone in his pocket and jumping from the roof. Maybe he’d have his answer by the morning. Be it in the form of a text message, or not.
The 30th rolled around, and Yato still hadn’t received a reply. By now, he assumed the worst, but figured he’d at least come welcome her home anyway. He knew that Hiyori wouldn’t want him to assume the worst and avoid her because of it. Rather than meeting her as she arrived, though, he’d leave that to her family and instead meet her at nighttime.
Texting might be completely useless at this point, he knew.
Even so, he sent a message.
_ If you’re coming home today, I’ll be outside your house tonight to greet you. _
The tone was much unlike his usual one, but he didn’t care at the moment. As he expected, he didn’t receive a response, and tucked away his phone in his pocket.
When night fell, it began to rain. Yato couldn’t care less about it, and left for Hiyori’s place all the same, checking his phone along the way for the text message he knew he didn’t have. As he turned the corner to her house, the sight he was faced with didn’t surprise him in the least.
Hiyori was nowhere to be found.
The god leaned against the telephone pole, no longer bothered to send the half-phantom another message. If she was even a half-phantom anymore. A few minutes passed as Yato sat in silence in the storm, staring blankly into the night.
Then, a voice called his name.
Yato turned around, more than stunned to see Hiyori closing the front door behind her, hurrying to meet him. She had just said “Yato”, so he knew that his worst fear proved to be untrue, but the insecurities from being ignored were still settled into his gut. The girl finally reached him, looking more sorry than he’d ever seen her.
“I’m so sorry, Yato! My phone broke while I was there, and I was so worried you’d think I was ignoring you, or worse!” Her eyes were filled with concern, but as she explained, they lightened up considerably. “I’m so glad you came!”
The god only turned to face her, not letting his own relief and happiness show through. “Hiyori, did you like the school?”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and as she so often did, her face softened. “It seemed a little too stuck-up for me. And the classes are way too harsh; I could never keep my focus. No, I’m staying home.”
Finally, Yato smiled, now relieved beyond measure. The time he had with Hiyori had just been extended considerably. He was glad. So glad, he wanted to hug her out of relief, but opted against it in the end.
As she gave him that smile, Yato knew that he would never rest until she could smile like that every day of her life. Hiyori, who was the first person to ever truly care about him, treat him with kindness, and like a person, was going to be the happiest person in the world.
And Yato would not rest until he made sure of it.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope this was alright. |
a19d0c348ada49ef82a5bc380263b683 | ['dfa46d5cbe024b609f99bdfdf25a756a'] | “Dad I have to do something Batman away off world with the Justice League and Robin is busy with the Teen Titans hunting down H.I.V.E members and Nightwing is off his own thing. Beside it will only be support I’m with Supergirl she will keep me from any danger situations.” said Batgirl
“I suppose Arkham Asylum is also experince technical problems all but one criminal escaped from maximum security all but the Joker was being kept in a new Wayne Enterprise detention cell that are being installed.” said Commissioner Gordon
“At least that some good news I guess I’m sure when JLA they help recapture the escaped criminals but before the time being I have to help where I can.” said Batgirl
“Be careful Babs.” said Commissioner Gordon.
“I will dad.” said Batgirl as she see the SHIELD helicarriers with parts of Big House sticking out through a number of areas of the helicarrier going down into the New York Bay river she then see Supergirl fly under the Helicarrier and start to try and lift back into the air she then batwing on the SHIELD helicarrier after exiting the batwing and heading inside the Big House.
After making her way through the helicarrier she comes across Dr Hank Pym in bear hug by King Cobra as Mandrill makes his way towards
“You too Mandrill you came so close in counseling.” said Doctor Pym with Mandrill proceeding charge towards him before anything hanks manages to get his feet and kick Mandrill in the face knocking before see Batgirl coming gliding towards them he strinks down in size as Batgirl dropkicks King Cobra in the face knocking him out cold.
Batgirl puts some cuffs on King Cobra as Hank Pym returns to his normal size as Batgirl walks over to Mandrill and placed cuff on the capture criminals.
“What happened here.?” asked Batgirl
“Ant man not really the time discuss this Batgirl best guess a major power caused the Pym particle generator fail which keeps the big House as a small doll sized prison failed which caused the Big House to return to its normal size with the same set power failure it allowed the prisoners freedom.” said Antman.
Just then Griffin flies towards the duo before he could do anything Spiderman dropkicks him in the face knocking him out cold
“Thanks for dropping in Spiderman.” said Antman.
“Don’t mention it antman so how bad is the situation that I’m going to be blamed for.” asked Spiderman.
“Massive Prison breakout of a large number of dangerous criminals i don’t think Jameson can blame you for this one.” said Antman.
“Trust me Pickle puss will somehow find a way to blame me for it somehow.” said Spiderman.
The Vault
Hawkeye is watching from his hiding position as number of criminals which Golden Glider, whiplash, Crimson Dynamo, Captain Boomerang, Blizzard, Captain Cold, Heatwave, Doctor Polaris,
Hawkeye prepares to fire one of his trick arrows at the escaping Crimson Cowl when Ironman blows a hole in the wall and hovers near opening looking at Hawkeye and Crimson Cowl looking directly at him
“Justine, Arrow guy say good night.” said Iron man as he charges up his repulsor beams aiming at Hawkeye and at Crimson Cowl
“Hey wait I’m on your side.” said Hawkeye before he could react Ironman fire two repulsor beams knocking Hawkeye and Crimson Cowl down before Doctor Polaris takes control of his suit slamming him into the wall before falling to the ground when he is cornered by Crimson Cowl, Crimson Dynamo, Doctor Polaris and Living Laser
“Get up stark we aren’t finished with you let.” said Living Laser
“Alright we all know how this is going to end super villains team up or not.” said Ironman as he watches Living Laser charges for a few seconds before launching an attack him which damage part of his shoulder before he then punched in the face by the crimson Dynamo knocking him to the ground
“I did it was going to go down this way.” said Ironman as Crimson Dynamo proceeds to grab Ironman by the top of his head and lifted him to his feet
“I been dream of the day when I could final kill you Ironman.” he said as he proceeds to grab stark by the head and lifted him off
“JARVIS i want you to hack into the Vault security frequency order all SHIELD agents to evacuate.” said Tony
Bridge of the SHIELD helicarrier
Agent Maria Hill has made it to the bridge of the helicarrier which is being held up in the sky by Supergirl
“Director Fury the big house is wide open he reports of escaped prisoners on all levels of the helicarrier our agents are holding them off as best they can sir and I am not sure how long Supergirl will be able to keeps us in the air. Said Agent Hill.
“Forget the Big House I now main focus is the Raft.” said Director Fury.
“Fourth Prison of the most dangerous of the dangerous supervillains we we house Omega level threats.” said Agent Hill
The Raft
Baron Zemo is working around the Raft where he joined by other prison which include Doctor Poison while deep down in the Omega level of with power failure Gravitation is free from his restrains.
The Cube,
Zzzax is continuing shock Dr Bruce Banner while Betty Ross is forced to watch on as bruce is continued to tortured by the super villain which caused her angry to bubble up as she watches Bruce Banner starts to transform into the Hulk and proceeds to charge Zzzax through the wall as Betty begins her transformation which is all being watched from the Command Centre The Leader, Titania, Abomination and Absorbing man.
“Whatever is happening at Cube seems to be happening across the other SHIELD maximum security facility and some of the ARGUS facility very interesting if i do say so myself.” said the Leader. | e6c6e1ca2900476ebaa36565930c9de2 | ['dfa46d5cbe024b609f99bdfdf25a756a'] | "I'm going to be tutoring tonight, so ready for next week's big mathematics test," replied April as she opened her locker and put some stuff into her locker, including her shellcell, which Irma didn't see her doing before something bit her hand and caused April to scream.
"Is everything alright, April?" asked Irma
"No, something just bit me," replied April as she pulled her hand out from her locker and noticed bite marks, starting to feel extremely unwell.
"Are you ok, April, do you want me to get you to the nurse?" asked Irma as April slumped down to the floor before noticing Casey Jones come towards her. Irma noticed he had a black bruise around his left eye.
"Casey, get Nurse Easterland, April is ill!" screamed Irma as she knelt down next to April, seeing sweat running down her best friend's face. She didn't know what caused it, and she wouldn't be getting answers anytime soon as April quickly passed out
.
Fourteen Hours later
Unknown medical facility in an undisclosed location…
Gwen Stacy came to and looked around to see that she was in a bright white medical room with state-of-the-art medical equipment. She was hooked up to a heartbeat monitor and she looked around the room, noticing that in the bed next to her was Mary Jane Watson, who was also hooked up to a heartbeat monitor. While looking at the bed on her opposite side she saw April O'Neil, and then saw that her left hand was cuffed to the side of the bed frame. She also noticed that her clothes had been removed and she was now dressed in a green hospital gown.
In the neighbouring bed Mary Jane Watson slowly came around. She was also dressed in a green hospital gown. She sat up and went to rub her eyes but as she did, she realized that her left hand was also cuffed to the side of the hospital bed.
"Oh, my aching head," Mary Jane groaned as she rubbed her head with her un-cuffed right hand. "What happened? The last thing I remember Pete was coming over to us after something bit my hand. Do you have any idea where we are?"
"Not sure. I do remember a few flashes, but it is mostly a blur. I vaguely recall paramedics working on me, but I was so out of it I can't be sure. But somewhere along the line, I completely blacked out and I don't remember anything until waking up in this room handcuffed to the bed," Gwen replied. Gwen then looked down at her hand and noticed that the bite mark was now completely healed.
"Gwen, do you remember being bitten by something in our lockers?" MJ asked.
"Yeah I do. But it seems to have healed up, what about you, MJ?" asked Gwen.
Mary Jane looked down at her hand and saw that it, too, was completely healed. "Yeah, mine's completely healed, too," she answered.
"MJ Do you know we aren't alone in the room? We have a roommate," said Gwen.
"Have you seen her before?" asked MJ.
"No," replied Gwen as April O'Neil started to stir, eventually waking up and looking around the room at the two teenagers looking back at her and waving at her with their free hands. April started rubbing her head, trying to remember how she ended up in this this bed.
"Oh, my aching head, anybody catch the name of that drummer that's pounding my head like bongos?" asked April.
"Are you ok? Do you know where you are?" Gwen asked, looking over to April as she sat up in bed, looking around the room and noticing she was also wearing a green hospital gown.
"Not really, the last thing I really remember was talking to my best friend Irma. I had my hand inside my locker and then something bit me, then passing out, then nothing till waking up here. Anyway, my name Is April O'Neil, what's yours?" said April.
"My name is Gwen Stacy and the girl next to me is Mary Jane Watson. We are Midtown High School students, and it would seem the same thing that happened to us happened to you as well," said Gwen.
Just then M.R.D. Director Colonel William Stryker entered the room followed by Dr. Adriana Soria.
"Who are you! Where are we?" asked Gwen.
"Good to see you're all awake and to answer your question Miss Stacy, I am the new Deputy Director of the Mutant Response Division. My name is Colonel William Stryker, Sr. You three are currently housed at a state-of-the-art MRD facility in upstate New York. With the assistance of Dr. Soria here, I will determine the nature of your illegal genetic abilities and what is the best way to handle your situations, Miss Stacy, Miss O'Neil, and Miss Watson," Colonel Stryker replied.
"And I am MRD Mutate Research Specialist Doctor Adriana Soria and I am here to oversee and conduct any medical test that will no doubt be required while you are in M.R.D. custody," added Dr. Soria.
"What are you talking about? We don't have any mutant or mutate abilities, we're just normal people," MJ said.
"Not according to the tests that Doctor Soria performed when you were brought to my facility after each of you assaulted a number of hospital personnel. Each of you has put a number of nurses in critical condition, and I was instructed by hospital staff to remove you to a more secure location that could better detain you, where we will determine what happens next," replied Colonel Stryker.
"So how did we get these so called powers, then?" asked April
"From early investigation it was determined that Miss Stacy stole three Oscorp Oz-enhanced spiders, placing one in her locker and one in your locker, Miss Watson, while also supplying one to you. Miss O'Neil," Colonel Stryker explained.
"Gwen would never do such a thing, you must be mistaken," MJ protested. |
5c777c6832fa44f1bf5b97de9991ba6f | ['dfbc28962ae5414a93507d8e3d128128'] | The couple stood facing each with the biggest grins on their faces. The time came where the officiator asked if anyone had a reason they shouldn’t get married. The corner of Gintoki’s lips twitched. He knew he told Hinowa he wouldn’t get in the way of Tsukuyo’s happiness but a side of him was tempted to ruin everything. He wanted to scream that he loves her and that’s why she shouldn’t marry him but that would be selfish of him. It’s not like she would go to him anyways. The officiator continued and they officially became husband and wife with a kiss. Everyone started clapping and cheering for the couple as they walked down the aisle. Everybody moved to the reception venue and everyone was having a blast with their loved ones except Gintoki.
“God, when did everyone get together with everyone?” he muttered to himself as he was surrounded by lovey-dovey couples.
The newlywed couple made a reappearance and started going around thanking all their friends for coming. The ladies surrounded Tsukuyo and gushed about how beautiful she looked. Takasugi was surrounded by Sakamoto and Katsura. Gintoki spotted them and walked up to him.
“Yo Takasugi~ Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
“So Takasugi where will you and Tsukuyo-dono live after the honeymoon?” Katsura asked.
“We’re moving to the countryside. We already got a place ready for us.”
“Oh~ Kind of like a fresh start for a new chapter of your lives!” Sakamoto said.
“Yep.”
_What? Tsukuyo’s going to be gone? I’ll never see her again?_
“Do you have any plans on visiting back here again?”
“We’re coming back for the chief of the Shinsengumi and his fiance’s wedding. His fiance is the sister of the kid with glasses right? She appears to be friends with Tsukuyo.”
“Ah yes Kondo and Otae-dono. Their wedding is indeed approaching. Guess we’ll be able to see you guys again then.”
“Yeah we’ll see you then.” Takasugi and Tsukuyo were called to the dance floor for their very first dance together. “See you guys. Thanks for coming.” His old friends sent him off with a wave.
Katsura and Sakamoto eyed Gintoki. They’ve noticed the way Gintoki looked at Tsukuyo. Katsura playfully smacked his back.
“What was that for Zura?!”
“Let’s go drink Kintoki!” Sakamoto said, putting his arm on his shoulder. The two took him to a table and sat him down.
A couple of hours later, the wedding came to an end. Everyone was saying their final byes and wishing the couple happiness. It was Gintoki’s turn and he stepped up to the couple.
“Thanks fer comin’ Gintoki.”
“Hey now, I wouldn’t miss my friends getting married. Hope you two have a life filled with happiness together.” _This is it. We’ll never see each other again._
“We will. Thank ya.”
They thanked everyone one last time and got into the car to go on their honeymoon. Everyone waved as they started driving away. After the car was out of sight, everyone started going back home. Gintoki stood in place and kept looking where Tsukuyo stood.
“Gin-san.”
Gintoki turned his head and saw Hinowa. “Yo.”
“You should go home now.”
“I will. I just want to stay here a bit more.”
“Alright well you’re always still welcome to visit Yoshiwara. The drinks will always be free for the savior of Yoshiwara.”
“Thanks. See ya.”
Hinowa looked at him, internally sighed, and walked away. _He’s just as stubborn._
~~~
Eight years later
Gintoki was walking around the busy streets of Kabukichou. “Ah I’m so bored there’s nothing to do.”
Over the years everyone around him ended up getting married or into relationships. He was the only one still alone and never bothered to get into a relationship. The day he lost Tsukuyo was the day he gave up his dreams on having a family.
“Hey! Leave that kid alone!”
He heard a kid shouting and looked out of curiosity. He saw a young girl that looked around six or seven years of age. She had purple hair and big violet eyes. She ran up to a group of kids that was bullying a kid. She kicked them all down.
“What do you think you’re doing to him?”
“You stupid brat! This is our problem. Who do you think you are to butt in?” one of the bullies yelled back.
“My parents always told me stand up for what’s right. Stop bullying this guy!”
_What a feisty kid._ Gintoki thought while watching.
“That’s it. You’re asking for it! We’re not going to go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” The group of bullies got up and started surrounding the girl.
“Y-You’re going to get hit by them!” the kid getting bullied cried out.
“Hmph. You guys are going down.” She whipped out kunais. “You still want to fight me?”
They laughed at her. “You’re carrying around toy kunais?”
She glared at them and hurled one of the kunais right past one of their heads, cutting a couple strands of their hair in the process.
“W-What the hell they’re real?!”
“You better not look down on a ‘girl’ like me. You might hurt yourselves.”
They realized they wouldn't stand a chance against her. “T-This isn’t over!” They sped off so fast like their lives depended on it.
“You better not bully this guy ever again!” she yelled at them. She turned around to the victim. “Are you okay?”
“T-Thanks…”
“No problem. Don’t let them step all over you.”
“Looking at you I want to learn how to stand up for myself. I hope I can become as strong as you one day!” He took a glance at his watch. “Oh look at the time! I’m going to get scolded. Thanks for helping me out, see you around!”
“No problem. Stay safe.” The guy waved at her and then ran off. “Now time to go back to mama and papa.” She turned and looked around the area. “Eh? Where am I?”
“Little miss.” | b9df716c618c4778a580a9daaf032e54 | ['dfbc28962ae5414a93507d8e3d128128'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I don't own gintama
A young girl that appeared to be around six years of age was wandering around the poor village. As long as she could remember she was an orphan. She didn’t even know who her parents were. All she knew was that her name was Tsukuyo. She barely got by day by day. One day she was walking by a grocer’s stall. Another poor kid of the village swooped an apple. The owner saw something suspicious going on and saw Tsukuyo standing.
“You little brat! You just stole an apple right?!” he yelled.
“I didn’t!”
“You liar! Why I oughta!” He marched towards Tsukuyo.
Immediately realizing the situation, she ran. She heard the man yelling at her and continued running. She ran deep into a nearby forest. She stopped once she made sure the man wouldn’t be able to find her. She sat down and put her back against the tree.
“Are you okay?”
She instinctively got up and turned around. There was a young boy with dark purple hair and green eyes. He had a expressionless face. “Who are ya?” She got a nearby twig and held it up.
Without a word, he walked up to her. She held onto the twig just incase. He bent his knees and touched her foot. There were scratches and blood all over her feet. “You’re hurt.”
Her cheeks turned red. She quickly removed her foot from his hand. “Why are ya touchin’ me?!”
He met her eyes. “Because you’re hurt.
“I-I’m gonna go!” Before she could leave he took her hand and sat her down. “What do ya think yer doin’?”
He took out a roll of bandage and wrapped it around her feet. “It’s not good to walk around barefoot with wounds.” She silently took the treatment.
“What are ya doin’ so deep in tha forest anyway?”
“Just. You?”
“Just.” He finished bandaging her feet up.
“Thank ya.” She got up.
“Wait.” The boy took his shoes off and put them on her.
“What ‘bout ya? It’s okay. I don’t need yer shoes.”
“Take them don’t worry. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Tsukuyo. Yers?”
“Takasugi Shinsuke.”
“Is it alright fer me ta call ya by yer name?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks again Shinsuke. I gotta go now. I’ll come here again tomorrow.” She waved at him and ran off.
“What an interesting girl.” His body disappeared deeper into the forest.
.
It was the next day and Tsukuyo was wandering a different part of town. An old lady that treats Tsukuyo nicely was talking with some other townsperson. She overheard their conversation.
“Did you hear? Someone said they saw a fox in the forest!” the townsperson said.
“My goodness is that true? I thought we got rid of all the foxes. I’m worried for our businesses if the foxes are returning.”
“Don’t worry,” a man spoke up. “We’ll hunt ‘em down and kill ‘em all if we find any. Ain’t no foxes ruining things for our town. Things are hard for us as it is.”
“That’s true. It’s nice to know we have such reliable men in our town” the old lady giggled. The old lady looked behind the townspeople and saw Tsukuyo. She called out to her. “Tsukuyo darling won’t you come here?” Tsukuyo quietly walked up to her. She noticed the shoes on her feet. “Did someone give that to you?” Tsukuyo nodded. “My I was wondering where you went last night. You’re always welcome to spend the night.”
“It’s okay.”
The old lady patted her on the head with a smile. “You’re such a strong and brave little girl.” She went back into the store and brought out onigiri. “Here you go this is for you. If you want to come by tonight feel free to.”
Tsukuyo graciously took the onigiri from her and bowed her head in thanks. She headed towards the forest.
Shinsuke was sitting on a branch waiting for Tsukuyo to come visit. He was warned by the other foxes not to get close to humans because he’ll end up betrayed by them but he didn’t care. He didn’t sense any bad intentions from Tsukuyo.
“Shinsuke!”
He lept down at her voice. “I’m here.”
She smiled at him. “I wanted ta show my thanks ta ya.” She showed him the onigiri.
“It’s okay. You can have it all.” His stomach grumbled at the wrong moment. His cheeks turned red from embarrassment.
She gave him half of the onigiri. “Let’s eat.” They sat down and enjoyed the food together. Afterwards they were lying down on the grass looking at the clear blue sky. Tsukuyo pointed at a cloud. “That kinda looks like a dog.”
Shinsuke pointed at the cloud next to it. “That one looks like a butterfly.”
“It does.” They continued looking at clouds. Even though they weren’t doing much, it felt nice being together. Spending time together took away the loneliness that awaited her.
“Hey is it okay for you to be here this late? Won’t your parents worry?” he asked.
“I don’t have parents.”
“Oh...I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. What ‘bout ya? Won’t yer parents worry?”
“I...don’t really have parents either.”
“I’m sorry. Where do ya sleep then?”
“I have a place. What about you?”
“I try to find places.”
He looked at her. “Would you like to come with me?”
She looked at him. “Go with you? Where?”
“To where I sleep.” He led her to the abandoned house he stays at. A loud thud was heard in the house. “Katsura what are you doing?” Shinsuke asked.
A young boy with black hair tied up in a ponytail came out. “Oh Takasugi you’re home. Who’s this? A friend of yours?”
“Yeah, her name’s Tsukuyo. You don’t mind if she sticks around right?”
“I don’t mind. Nice to meet you Tsukuyo. My name’s Katsura Kotarou.”
“Hi, nice ta meet ya too.”
“Are you one of us?”
“One of you?” |
13e11c2b13cb46b49f967c96ce622048 | ['dfd2ca439d914115b05b4b5b776fd05a'] | Kyle ducked his head and coughed out a muffled sob into his own shoulder, wiping his eyes. Why had everything gone so _wrong_? He went back to Stan’s bedside and wiped the fresh tears from his face with the washcloth, shushing him like a child. He squeezed his eyes shut against the fresh heat of his own crying and leaned down to kiss Stan’s forehead, wincing against the warmth of Stan’s body and holding his lips there longer than was probably necessary.
He pulled away quickly, but Stan's fingers had locked into the front of his shirt. Kyle carefully detached Stan's grip and reached over him, untucking the bed-sheets from the opposite side and folding them over him, pressing them around Stan’s shoulders and kissing his temple quickly. “No more…” he whispered, pleading. "Okay, Stan? You're done..." he said, hoping for Stan's sake that was true.
Kyle walked home slowly, looking up at the night sky just for a little oblivion. He promised himself he wouldn't do this again- hurt himself over Stan. He wouldn't fall for him again. It had been such a huge mistake the first time- every goddamn pop culture resource warned against developing feelings for your best friend. He could confirm the futility of trying. He'd made a huge ass of himself, hurt Stan, let Stan hurt _him_ , and royally fucked their friendship...
It was really best to let dead things lie.
And he would have if it wasn't for the comet that crashed into the Cinema where Stan worked just one week after Stan showed up at his house. For about fifteen minutes, the whole town made a big deal about it. News crews rolled in, people crowded the streets, the police drew up a tape line, scientists rolled up in trucks. But, once the comet itself had been hauled up out of the crater and the scientists had gathered all the samples and readings they needed, people lost interest, drifting away from the wreckage and leaving behind a bent and broken-looking husk of a building, smashed in and falling down.
Half an hour after the comet touched down, Kyle came to see the building out of curiosity. He found one lone figure standing in the parking lot, staring at the destruction with his hands stuffed in his pockets pensively. If it wasn't for the fact that it was _this_ building that was destroyed, Kyle would've left him alone- 'let dead things lie' so to say- but this was like some kind of message from God- that things could be different now if they'd just let them...Stan's visit the other night had made a crack in the wall and all Kyle needed to do was give it a tap and it would all crumble down. It was too appealing to resist.
Kyle approached slowly, feeling a little more confident than was probably wise. “Is it wrong to hope Brad was inside…?” he said, honestly curious- he felt it was a totally justified desire and after the things that asshole had said about him, Kyle expected Stan to feel the same.
Stan glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn’t seem all that surprised to see Kyle behind him. He closed off his posture, folding his arms over his chest and pretending to ignore Kyle's presence- and his comment. He stared dejectedly at the wreckage of the building in silence, but Kyle didn't leave like he probably hoped. Instead, Kyle stepped up beside him and mirrored his closed-off posture, folding his arms over his chest. Stan sighed, “I told you not to talk to me,” he grumbled.
“You also said you were _done_ ,” Kyle countered, glancing over at Stan to his right.
Stan’s expression tightened and he seemed to understand what Kyle was talking about- like he was recalling his last words to him, and maybe he had some recollection of his drunken visit or maybe he’d noticed Kyle’s scent all over him when he woke up. 'Fuck you. I'm done' didn't exactly mean showing up drunk outside someone's window and yelling ' _I fuckin love you, asshole_ '.
So, this was the moment of truth. If Stan just shut Kyle out and said 'I am done' that would be it. Kyle would leave him alone forever in confidence that Stan was strong enough to ignore whatever feelings he had left- stronger than him. But, Stan didn't say anything at all- just pursed his lips and hugged his arms tighter around his chest.
Kyle looked back at the wreckage of the theater, feeling raw. “I can’t believe it’s gone…” he mused, trying to make conversation. This place had always kind of been a monument to the walls that had grown up between them. It was the place that seemed to consume Stan's soul and drag him away all the time, and seeing it crushed like this was sort of...vindicating.
It took a long, awkward minute, and Kyle was almost giving up on staying here, but Stan finally responded. “It was a shitty theater…” he muttered.
“I won’t disagree with that,” Kyle replied, unable to hold back a tight grin, barely able to contain his relief behind his face- wanting to jump and whoop that _fucking hell yeah, Stan was speaking to him_. “I think I got a ringworm here once.”
“Yeah well, you can’t afford cleaning supplies when you only charge two dollars a ticket,” Stan explained wryly, and Kyle saw him turn his head out of the corner of his eye.
He could feel Stan’s gaze on him and he smiled a little, facing forward pointedly. “I’m glad you survived this place.”
“Shut up-”
“ _If you have Mesothelomia from exposure to asbestos_ -” Kyle said, dropping his voice and mimicking the Johnson’s Law Firm commercial that always came on television. | b5a27403146040c883d809e9af5337e9 | ['dfd2ca439d914115b05b4b5b776fd05a'] | While Kyle was preoccupied, stroking and tracing Stan's ribs and abs, Stan had leaned back to let him, watching him with wide blue eyes, but he quickly got impatient with that and leaned forward to unfasten Kyle's pants. Kyle's hands settled on Stan's shoulders, rubbing and squeezing the muscle there as Stan opened his fly for him. He lifted his hips to help Stan get his pants down under his butt and off- he didn't expect Stan to take his boxer-briefs down at the same time. He hissed at the sudden nakedness, but Stan was back on him in a second, shushing him in a kiss. Kyle reached down to start at getting Stan's pants, but he found Stan's hands busy with the same task and they bumped knuckles and tangled fingers and generally got in each others' way.
Stan started cracking up laughing into Kyle's mouth, slapping his hands away. "Dude!" he said, grinning and leaning back. "Chill..."
Kyle just smiled at his own impatience and Stan's amusement- God, he'd missed that laugh. A warm feeling filling up his chest even as all his blood was rushing south. He hadn't expected he'd ever get to have desperate-last minute-'I need you'-sex with his old best friend, but if he'd ever even thought of it (he had), he never thought it would be like this- warm and lush, but also easy and funny.
Once Stan had wiggled his pants off, he crawled back over Kyle's legs, careful not to brush too much skin yet. He nuzzled his nose into Kyle's cheek. "I heard a lot about _you_..." he mumbled off-handedly. "Probably should've ignored it, but I didn't," he admitted.
Kyle hesitated, "Like what?"
"Like- you had Shauna and Emily drooling for you backstage during the spring show," Stan mumbled, "and that Jay and Kegan were all over your dick too." Stan cracked an eye open, and that was all the warning Kyle had before he rolled his hips down, dragging his bare erection over said dick, voice pitched low as if the thought of other people finding Kyle hot was turning him on. "I thought about it," he explained between licks to the back of Kyle's jaw and his ear. "I thought about you fucking them...thought you must be gorgeous- all worked up and hot like this, falling apart under their hands and mouths..."
Kyle squirmed, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Stan's hair, "I didn't do anything with them-tch...I haven't...not since Vegas..."
Stan paused in his ministrations and backed up, shocked for a second. Then he grinned a little, "Good. I _hated_ them for it," he said. "And I was just imagining it..." He pulled back, eyes half-lidded, but instead of leaning down and kissing him again like Kyle kinda hoped he would- (he kiss Stan nonstop for the rest of his life and it wouldn't be enough), Stan leaned down to nuzzle the cut of muscle that ribbed down his stomach until he came to the wisps of hair under his navel. "It's...browner than I expected," he mumbled, shocking Kyle when he brought a few hairs between his lips and tugged them straight with his teeth.
"S-shit..." Kyle jolted a little, cock twitching.
Stan's brow quirked up a notch, taking note of Kyle's reaction. He hadn't looked down to see Kyle's dick yet, but when he did, he let out a low hum of hunger that Kyle tried not to get too flattered by. Stan had seen his dick before in the showers after football practice, but that had been almost three years ago now, and Kyle knew he'd grown since then, plus he was half-erect now which would make a difference. Knowing what Stan must be comparing him to, it didn't mean he was all that impressive. He knew he was a little above average- which apparently ran in the family (something he'd never _wanted_ to know), but compared to Stan's previous partner, he must seem large. Stan's wasn't anything to scoff at either- not quite as long as Kyle, but wider and uncut.
Stan was silent for a moment, reaching out carefully and taking Kyle in hand, weighing him in his palm, "Dude, I'm gonna suck you, okay?"
One of Kyle's legs jerked a little, "Oh my God..." he mumbled, head falling back.
That was all the confirmation Stan seemed to need before he was ducking down and wrapping his lips around Kyle, laving his tongue over and under the tip before opening his jaw and working his way down the shaft bit by bit, groaning at the taste. The wet sounds of his mouth drowned out the soft music, and Kyle went breathless. He had gotten this from Josh, but that was the only other time anyone had done this to him, and it paled in comparison. Maybe Kyle was a little biased since this was _Stan_ on his dick and, fuck, he loved this guy- but judging by the way Stan was opening his throat, Kyle thought it might also be that he was just really fucking good at this. Stan got him down to the hilt until his nose was pressed into Kyle's rusty hair, swallowing around him, and Kyle groused under the attention, toes curling in the sheets, hands gripping Stan's hair loosely. He was cursing up a storm.
And Stan pulled off way too soon.
Kyle whined high in his throat.
"Ah, don't be such a baby, dude," Stan chastised, his voice rough in his throat from it's overuse- and fuck that was hot. "You wanna blow a load _now_ or you wanna fuck me?"
"Oh my God..." Kyle repeated, a little hazy. |
b1bc350dca9f47abb994a868868b9baa | ['dfde6839d45245f887e47a94c8c69146'] |
Butterfly's Heartbeats
**Author's Note:**
> I didn't check it I'm sorry for the mistakes!! I hope it's not so much of a failure, enjoy it!
It was June, it was June 24th, and Min Yoongi was happy. He was so, _so_ happy as he was walking next to Namjoon, his best friend since he was ten. _His crush since he was 17._ And funniest part was that Namjoon had no idea about it. They were best friends, they always did best friend kind of things, and nothing more. But Yoongi wanted more, much more; he was the kind of person who keeps his hopes high. That's why he had always dreamt of how perfectly he'd fit Namjoon.
"Hey," Namjoon said, "What are you thinking about?"
"Oh-nothing. Where are we going though?"
"There." Namjoon showed the forest which was not so far away, "It's that butterfly heaven I've mentioned previously. Remember?"
Yoongi nodded. He remembered for sure; in fact, it was his image of a _perfect date._ Namjoon would make such a great boyfriend. He knew how to make people happy, he knew how to make himself loved. He was romantic acutally, and despite the fact that he doesn't accept this, Yoongi was 100% sure that he was aware. But Namjoon hadn't just met the 'right person'
"Butterflies are wondeful Namjoonie, aren't they?"
"Yes, they are. Look at them, they fly so beautifully, even their heartbeats are calming."
"Can you hear them?"
"I can't, Min Yoongi. But I can imagine."
Yoongi smiled, staring at Namjoon who was watching the butterflies with an amazed face. "Hey, what are you staring at, hyung?"
"You just look so cute like this." Yoongi giggled and Namjoon hugged him with one arm. "You know who's cute? You!" And started tickling Yoongi, not letting him go. Yoongi screamed and tried to escape from Namjoon's grip, he failed and fell down. "Fuck you!" he yelled while laughing. Namjoon's smile turned into a smirk, "I bet you'd love to fuck me." Then he let go off Yoongi, who was now curled on the grass. Namjoon lied next to him, Yoongi sticked his tongue out at Namjoon and the younger asked, "Hey, wouldn't you hyung? We've been best friends for more than 6 years, it wouldn't be that weird." Yoongi's expression turned dark, his eyes stuck on a fixed point.
"Hey! Yoongi, I'm kidding! Don't be this upset! Do you really think I'm that bad?" As Namjoon let out a laugh, Yoongi smiled and said "You know, you suck Namjoon." "Oooh, I'm gonna cry, getting rejected by you is the worst" Namjoon said, joking. Yoongi moved closer to him after then, moving one of his legs over Namjoon's body, now he was on top of him. "If you want it this muuuuch" he said, with a low voice.
_And even he didn't know what he was doing._
Namjoon grinned, "Easy, hot boy."
"I knew it! You really think I'm hot!" Yoongi yelled. Then, Namjoon lifted his head up a little bit, and kissed Yoongi.
It was just one second. One fucking, wonderful second. _Do best friends do these kind of things?_ Yoongi asked himself, Namjoon was watching him, thinking 'why the fuck i did it?' because Yoongi's gesture made him regret it already. And he decided to joke about it, like it obviously a joke, because he had never thought of Yoongi in such a way. It was just instinct. Everyone would do the same.
"Hot boy, are you really disgusted of my kiss?" he asked, smiling softly.
"Yes, fuck y-" Yoongi tried to reply, he didn't mean to use that expression. Then, their eyes met and they both laughed. Yoongi moved next to Namjoon again, saying "Thank you for bringing me here, anyways." "Oh, thanks for the company."
_He's gonna bring his boyfriend to here either, and you know it._
Yoongi smiled as he was trying to convince himself that everything was alright. It seemed alright, instead, it wasn't alright to wish the kiss had lasted longer. Because Yoongi needed to kiss Namjoon.
***
A few days passed, and by this time Yoongi had watched Namjoon a lot, had wanted to kiss Namjoon a lot and yes, thought about what had happened a lot.
He still was confused, it was July. July the first. 8 am. Namjoon was sleeping, slightly snoring with a small smile on his face. Yoongi was looking at him as if he was something from heaven. He had never felt this _in love_ before. Namjoon was perfect; he was like an angel and his smile could light up a town. His lip bites were the hottest thing Yoongi had ever seen. In fact, Namjoon was the hottest thing Yoongi had ever seen. He was such a great friend, he was caring and loving. He always handled Yoongi when he had been a dork. Even though Namjoon was the younger one, he was more mature than Yoongi. Sure there had been times when they had done crazy things together, after all they had grown up together.
Namjoon's face was a little red.
It was beautiful.
Yoongi wanted to touch it.
He also wanted to touch Namjoon's pink hair. It was looking so soft that Yoongi barely stopped himself from running and touching it. _No other hair in the world is this beautiful._ Yoongi smiled at this thought, "Why the hell on earth are you smiling at me?" Namjoon asked, maintaining that soft smile. He seemed tired, but on the other hand he was too calm for a situation like this.
"Joonie, are you aware that you look _absolutely_ perfect when you're sleeping."
"Aw, thanks Yoongi. Still, what was that smile for?"
"Your perfectness." Yoongi laughed, feeling his heartbeats shake his body. He was barely breathing.
"Isn't that a bit creepy?"
"Dunno."
This _is too much._ But best friends _would_ do this. Obviously.
"Why is your heart beating this fast, hyung? Is it because of that you're stressed out right now?" he asked jokingly.
"Can you hear it?"
"No, but I imagine. Min Yoongi. Your expression is telling that out loud. Plus, mine is beating too fast. Maybe I'm just wishing that you feel the same." Yoongi's heart fastened as if it was possible when Namjoon paused for a second. Then, he started to talk again, "Yoongi, is it because of that you wanna kiss me like I do?"
"Do you want it?" Yoongi asked. His voice was flat, cheeks blushing and eyes getting darker and darker.
Namjoon nodded, "Of course." Yoongi paused for a second, then went to Namjoon's bed, sat next to him. He was slow as he held Namjoon's neck, moving him closer to himself. Their lips touched and Yoongi couldn't believe that it actually _was_ happening. Namjoon's kiss was soft, as if he didn't wanna hurt Yoongi; and Yoongi's kiss was so slow, as if he was afraid that this second will end. _And he was afraid._
"Hey Yoongi," Namjoon purred in the middle of the kiss, "Your heartbeats are even more calming than the butterfly's heartbeats." | c24adb8466b846d1aab5a742046c8c0a | ['dfde6839d45245f887e47a94c8c69146'] |
A cup of coffee after you
**Author's Note:**
> Idk why I wrote it but ye here it goes enjoy!!
At first, the roads turned to ashes. The whole city was burning. He saw trees flying, there weren't any people around, but he was sure he had heard some scream. Seokjin was terrified, unable to do a single thing, he looked around. _How could I save my family from that fire?_ He knew he could do something, he had to do something, but he had no idea what. Isn't he too young to see this much fires? Hadn't he done yet? He knew that he didn't deserve this, neither did his friends, his family... _How... How could I?_ Remembering that memory tickled something inside of him. Instead of being nice, the feeling was irritating as it's making him feel like all his guts were collapsing. Physical pain. The only thing that Seokjin had no tolerance to. It hurt more than anything, making him feel like crying but he was unable to cry; he was out of his breath as he was watching Seoul burn. Slowly. Slowly, disappearing. He was barely breathing but he held his breath just to avoid a scream. It was too much, more than he could handle.
"Hey," a soft voice called on him. _Is it real?_
"Whatever you're seeing is not real, it's a nightmare, okay? Calm down."
"How do I know that?" Seokjin asked, with a low voice, as if he was drowning. Oh, jokes on you. He _was_ drowning.
The young man hesitated for a second. But then, he touched Seokjin's arm softly. "Look, I'm the only reality here. Focus on me. Feel my touch?"
His lungs hurt. "Y-yes" Seokjin replied, now the ashes were slighter, but they were still there and the city was still burning. But, he was able to breathe now. _All you have to do is open your eyes. It will pass._
"I'm gonna protect you" the guy with pink hair said, and it was what gave Seokjin the confidence to open his eyes. "H-holy. I-I'm so sorry." he looked at the stranger, terrified. "Hey, it's okay," he smiled. "I was just kinda concerned about you. Are you okay?" "I'm fine" Seokjin replied, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Plus, his tone of voice was low and flat. "I'm Kim Namjoon" "Kim Seokjin, but you can call me Jin." He was still avoiding eye contact. _He's so hot, isn't he?_ "Nice to meet you, Jin. I'd love to see you again some time later, I've gotta go now" Namjoon said as the bus stopped. "Wait-wo- I'm getting off here too."
***
"I'm really sorry about earlier," Seokjin pointed out. "I didn't mean to bother people, it's just-" "Something you can't control, right?" Namjoon finished Seokjin's sentence. "Yes, it happens. A lot." "I feel you-uh, should I call you hyung?" "Only if you wanna, I'm cool" "I feel you, hyung. It's tough. But you know what, it'll pass. And I'm by your side." "Thanks," Seokjin murmured. "You're great." _And so hot, don't you think?_
"You can stay here if you wanna, you know, sometimes company helps."
"Oh, I'd love that. Wouldn't you be bothered?"
"It's fine, I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to."
"Thanks, again. You're reaaaaally great." as Namjoon grinned, Seokjin added with no hesitation, "And so cute too."
Namjoon laughed out loudly this time, whispering "Can I give you s secret Jin hyung?" Seokjin nodded. "I really wanna kiss you right now."
***
Seokjin woke up Namjoon lying next to him, his arm wrapped around his neck. He watched Namjoon breathing, all perfect. It's the first time he'd slept with someone, since he was 16. He was so used to loosing people that he also got used to not attaching to anyone. And now, he was watching this guy, this guy whom he met only the night before. He smelled like vanilla. Namjoon smelled like vanilla, like home- Like the one he had never known. But he was all safe with Namjoon.
Seokjin moved closer to him, buried his face in Namjoon's neck, just to breathe more of him. Feel him.
And he _really_ wanted to taste his skin everywhere, it's not because he can't, but he was afraid to do so. He was afraid of being too clingy and making Namjoon hate him. He took a deep breath. That wasn't gonna happen.
At that second, Namjoon opened his eyes, smiling. "How can you be this hot in every time of the day?"
Seokjin blushed, and Namjoon laughed, kissing him slowly. "Let's get up, lazy. We've gotta talk about something." And his eyes darkened with the sentence, making Seokjin feel too anxious. "What's it?" "Just... Something you need to know."
"But what?" Seokjin seemed serious. "You're gonna ask me to leave, right? Hate me?"
"Oh, hyung, no, no, I'd never do that. It's just... I'll be going to Busan, for some shit music work."
"When?"
"Uhh, tonight."
"Everyone leaves," Seokjin murmured. "Whoever I liked, left me. Fuck. Okay, do what makes you happy. Sorry to take your time though."
Namjoon couldn't look at him.
"Jin, hyung, it's not about you. I really like you. I mean, look at you, you're perfect and there are so many things that I wanna do with you. That's why I couldn't tell you about this last night. I _wanted_ you to be here, with me. I'm so sorry."
"Okay, it's-it's fine."
"I want time to love you. I'm serious. Can you give me a chance? I'll be back in a month, and you know, we'll keep in touch."
"I... Please." Seokjin mumbled. "I really like you. I feel safe with you."
"Don't wanna leave. But let's make today the best, right?"
***
After a day of football, cooking, running around, laughing and cuddling, it was the time.
They knew both that it's their last 15 minutes together.
Seokjin was so used to the scent of vanilla, how could he live without it? Suddenly the whole situation felt real. And painful.
"Namjoon, I love you." Without even questioning it, Namjoon kissed him. "We'll be together real soon, okay?" Seokjin nodded and continued to kiss Namjoon eagerly. He was kinda confused, but he didn't care. Like he didn't care about his hands trembling and his head spinning. The only thing that mattered was Namjoon at that second, and his lips-oh, his lips.
And Namjoon was shocked, it wasn't the kind of goodbyes he was used to say. Seokjin was soft. He was something precious, better than perfect. He tasted like cinnamon.
Fucking cinnamon.
Fucking vanilla.
These were the words being repeated in their minds. Over and over again.
Seokjin had never thought about such a thing would be real. He did dream of being loved, yes, and isn't it what makes the dreams this wonderful? You always think that they are impossible, and then you find yourself in the middle of that dream, living it, experiencing it. Loosing it. You loose it, for sure; not always, but most of the time; like the world stops you from getting what you want, because the world usually takes it away from you, in the end you find yourself broken and lonely.
That's how it felt when they removed their lips from each other, breathlessly. One day dream, and it's over. |
3ceeb2dd09454e5f8ddb4d52e48bf813 | ['dfe827f28dc547d2a9d4c0f9c5accce5'] | “He’s not got good taste in women if he thinks you’re not ‘agreeable’. He probably thinks he’s so much smarter than everyone too.” Grog was a lot of things and a good friend to her was certainly one of them. “I mean he is right, no one does ask you to dance, but that’s probably because you scare everyone.” He also happened to be an ass at times.
“How do I scare people?” She asked, outraged.
“By using that voice.” He replied back, his eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, just… That people don’t like scary people.”
“I am not scary. I’m perfectly pleasant. I don’t understand how I could scare anyone.”
“You hunt in the forest alone and get more meat than most men in town… You haggle everyone, for everything, even your brother… Sometimes you just make a face that is like this.” He pinched up his face, making a remarkably similar expression as she did when she was irritated with her brother. “And everyone knows that if there is a gold piece on the floor and you saw it first it’s yours. Even if it just fell on the floor from someone else’s purse.”
Vex was absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that Grog seemed to have a list of reasons why people found her scary. She was pleasant, she made sure to be extremely polite, and she smiled more frequently than anyone seemed to give her credit for.
“Vex, it’s not a bad thing to be scary. It gets stuff done. When people need to get stuff done, they go to you to do it.” Grog reminded her as the music ended on a low note.
* * *
How she ended up standing with everyone from the new party and her friends, she did not know. Mr. Shorthalt had obviously come over to speak to Pike, and it seemed his friends just followed along with him.
"You see, everyone loves Pike.” Grog said grandly,“When we were fifteen a man asked to marry her, she said no obviously because she doesn’t want to get married.” He slung his arm around Pike,“She’s an independent lady, getting her own food and paying her own bills.”
Vex watched de Rolo tilt his head at Grog’s statement,“You hunt then?” There was a tone that Vex did not like, one of disapproving and judgment.
“Surprised a woman can hunt?” Judging by Pike’s face, Vex may have sounded a bit snappy.
“Surprised it’s allowed, if I’m completely honest. Women don’t hunt where we’re from.”
Vex pressed her lips, attempting to make Pike proud by not saying anything. The raise of his eyebrow broke her strength. “Well, I’m allowed to hunt and I bring more game from the forest than any man in this town. Some might say that meat I bring back is quite… Tolerable.” She rose her own eyebrow and with a fake smile, curtsied, turned around, and walked away. She was tired of this ball.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry if formatting is a bit off. Ao3 was giving me a bit of an issue while trying to post it tonight!
>
> Hope everyone has a great holiday season! I will attempt to get another chapter out next week, but I will be on vacation!
**Author's Note:**
> I have the second chapter done already! I am just waiting until I finish the third to post the second, which shouldn't be to long from now. | 0a31217db6e346959ecee445fcf3de8b | ['dfe827f28dc547d2a9d4c0f9c5accce5'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote parts straight from memory so it may not be quite so accurate, but I hope you still enjoy!
> Title is inspired by the song "Woke the F*ck Up" by Jon Bellion. I mainly listened to that song and "Bird Set Free" by Sia while writing this.
> Also tw for blood, body horror, near death, death (kinda. it happens in a dream)
_Blood spewing between his fingers, tears streaming down his face. A clammy hand gripping his, purple clothing ruined. A handsome, brave man’s eyes closed, his head on his lap. Sounds blurring, his heart beating too fast and too slow altogether. Choking noise stuck in his throat._ How could I let this happen? _A collective gasp as the hand squeezed his. The choking noise breaking free of his throat. Relief._
* * *
There was a cold sweat on Vax’ildan’s brow as he came from his unrestful sleep. His hands gripped tightly on his sheets, his dark eyes staring up at the ceiling. _Just another dream_ , he reminded himself. He had enough nightmares that he should have been used to them, but this wasn’t a nightmare, this was a memory. A recollection of the worst day of his life.
No matter, he was alive and Vax no longer had to worry about him being in harm’s way. Pike healed him, he would be fine, just as long as the dragons stayed far from Whitestone. _Whitestone, where you aren’t. Where you can’t protect him. If he dies, it’s your fault. The Raven Queen isn’t going to grant that wish twice._ Vax knew he could take care of himself, he didn’t need the rogue to be the hero. It’s not as though he had a claim on protecting him, Vax had made sure that wasn’t going to happen.
_Idiot._
It was over, there was no more he could do. He ruined it, he had ended it. He was in love, he couldn’t go back on it now. He was in love with Keyleth, he shouldn’t even be worrying about his _friend_ like this.
* * *
_Is this what love feels like?_ He asked himself as he walked away from her. As he tried to talk to her, but the words came stumbling from his clumsy mouth. As she looked away from him, her eyes distant and wary.
He knew that was his doing, he was going down a path that she wasn’t comfortable with. He was walking a thin line and it was quickly becoming thinner and thinner. She had so much to worry about already, she had lost so much from these fucking dragons and he was just adding more and more to her.
__Crack._ _ “Fuck!” He wailed, holding his fist to his chest, the tree being a lot harder than he had anticipated. “Jesus Christ, whoever that is, that fucking hurt!” Something was definitely dislocated, at the very least.
* * *
Vex didn’t look surprised when he found her later, his last two fingers unable to straighten or close. The cure wounds was a quick fix to his hand, but her firm fingers clasped around his wrist still. “Brother, what did you do?” Her face clouded as she looked up at his,“What happened? You can talk to me!”
He shook her hand from his, breaking free of her grasp, a little more roughly than he should have. “Thank you, Sister.” He said, his back turned to her as he walked away.
* * *
The dreams continued, growing longer and grimmer as they went, more images of his nearly dead _friend_ plagued his nights _._ There was no hiding that he wasn’t okay from the group, but they kept quiet for the most part, allowing him to “sulk”. They all believed Vex’s death and his promise was making him act out. He didn’t think they were wrong, he had watched his sister die. Of course, he wasn’t okay. He didn’t know how she was continuing as she was after it.
He didn’t want to be angry with her, but gods, she was making jokes about it! She was pretending to be okay and he knew she wasn’t. She couldn’t be okay if he was so broken about this. He couldn’t believe that she could be okay after _dying._
“Vax, are you okay?” A soft voice asked him, just at the wrong moment.
“I told everyone that I’m fucking fine! How many time do I need to say it?” He yelled as he whipped around to face the voice. His eyes drew up to meet Keyleth’s as her lower lip trembled and she nodded through tears. “Fuck, Keyleth! I didn’t mean to yell!” Vax said to her retreating back, his voice still quite loud and not as reassuring as he had meant for it to come out. “Shit.”
* * *
Was she avoiding him? Was this really love? What could he do to make this better? Did she love him? How did he manage to ruin everything? How could this be love if he kept fucking it up?
* * *
Few sentences passed between them for the next week, tension and sadness almost tangible. His lip was bloody from the amount he was worrying it. Everything tinged black, colors seemed to be mute now. Meals weren’t a time he looked forward to, food was simply fuel now. He could barely taste anything.
This was wrong, he was dragging them all down. This wasn’t right, he could barely focus.
He hated this. His hands gripped his long hair, tugging it tightly in frustration. His brain felt like a cloud, he was drifting and barely saw anything anymore. Tears of anger pricked at his eye. This wasn’t him, how was this happening to him? He blinked rapidly, his stomach turning and his head spinning. He going out of control.
* * * |
9af20d201aa9443c876ca4f3db8909e2 | ['dffe5a571c9d407c8e7c68a9fc861ec2'] | One of the reasons Jack had readily, almost eagerly agreed to go along with come along with General Hammond to these treaty negotiations was in the hope of being able to spend some time alone with her. Their paths had crossed a number of times during the week, the first when she and Helen Santos encountered their group and the President coming out of the Oval Office. While the President and the First Lady slipped back into the office for a private word, Jack and Dana had only a moment to say a quick hello before being ushered off with the group by a senior aide. In a break between meetings he left a message on her cell saying he hoped they’d have a chance to get together before he headed home. The General was planning to stay over the weekend so Jack wouldn’t be expected back in Colorado Springs until late Monday evening. This gave him two and a half day free days in DC.
Her reply on his cell reflected her hope for the same and there was tension underneath the seeming bland phone message, a lot that was waiting to being said. There was a week of phone tag and brief encounters in passing with neither one of them had been able to carve out any time from their busy schedules. It had been Jack’s plan to call her as soon as the talks ended this afternoon to arrange to see her that night but an invitation to dinner by the Leader of the Free World was something you didn’t turn down, no matter how casual it was and especially when your CO was invited as well.
“Traitor,” The First Lady had shot back smiling fondly at her friend.
“Guilty!” Dana laughed as she downed the last of the wine in her glass. “And that’s my cue to bid you all a good night,” Her rising from the table was a gentle cue to the rest of them that it was time to leave the Santos couple to the rest of their evening. “That is if I can find my other shoe.” she said picking up the single high heel and looking around the floor. “Helen, I swear, your children…”
A quick search revealed the location of the lost footwear under the kitchen table and as General Hammond retrieved his overcoat and tendered his compliments and appreciation to their hosts, Jack followed Dana into the kitchen. As she sat down to slip on her shoe, Jack stopped at the door behind her, his imagination flaring to life again as her hand moved from securing her shoe up the back of her leg to smooth her stocking into place. Instead of her hand, he saw his, not smoothing the stocking on, but slowing pulling the stocking off. At that moment as he bit back a frustrated groan he was very glad his uniform jacket was cut on the long side.
Hearing Jack’s quick intake of breath Dana looked up to see him watching her from the door way. She held his gaze as he held out his hand to bring her to her feet. As they stood there for a moment and the warmth of her hand in his began to radiate through him, Jack wondered what type of prison sentence a person would receive for having wild hot sex with The Special Aide to the First Lady on the White House kitchen table.
“We should join the others,” she whispered at up him smiling.
“That would be a good idea,” he whispered back. “It would keep me from doing something I could end up being court-marshaled for.” It pleased him that Dana laughed even as she blushed.
Jack followed Dana into the other room where he joined the General at the door. Ever the southern gentleman General Hammond graciously offered Dana a ride as they were informed their car had arrived, but Dana declined as she had her own car waiting. After handshakes and goodbyes the three of them were escorted to the portico where there was only time for a meaningful glance as Dana was helped into her car and Jack climbed into the limo heading for the hotel.
*****
He arrived at her place still in uniform having stopped at the hotel only long enough to check his messages and pick up his car. There was a tray on the table with two wineglasses one already half full, with the imprint of her lips where she had drank from it. The fire light shone ruby red through the bottle of wine beside it which gave it almost the exact same color as her lips which had driven him to near distraction at dinner earlier.
“Would you like some wine?” Dana offered as Jack laid aside his overcoat and hat.
“Yes,” he replied and pulling Dana to him Jack did what he had been wanting to do all night. As Dana’s arms slipped around his neck, he pressed a kiss hard against her mouth, his tongue between her lips, discovering in her mouth the sweet taste of honey and wine.
10. Honey and Wine
The parts always fit: it was the nature of their humanity. Part A was always going to fit part B no matter who parts A and B belonged to. The physical joining was a given, it happened just by virtue of the fact that he was a man and she was a woman. But there was something happening in this joining, something that couldn’t be explained away by biology, or physics or any other natural science. Him inside of her and her surrounding him – there was something profoundly spiritual in this act, something which he couldn’t explain. But even though he didn't have the words to describe it, Jack knew it when he felt it and he felt it with Dana. | 9e6f90c4aa6d465ba5acba168b7dc75c | ['dffe5a571c9d407c8e7c68a9fc861ec2'] | It Does Not Compute
It had been years since Rodney had touched a musical keyboard and every time he typed on his laptop he was reminded of that fact. He supposed it was because he had found the same rhythmic cadence in calculating formulas as he used to in mastering an especially difficult piece of music. Music, after all was based on numbers and one came as naturally to him as the other.
Because he had grown up concentrating on his musical skills early in life and his mathematical skills after that, Rodney had left off the development of social skills until it was almost too late. Even though he devoted much study to the subject, he still hadn’t come close to understanding much less mastering the ins and outs of social interaction with women.
Women were unpredictable. They weren’t consistent, fixed like numbers. Try as he might he couldn’t come up with a numerical formula that helped him interact with them better. He tried relating them to the orderliness of musical progression which, while allowing for some personal variations, was still basically mathematical. That didn’t work either. A ‘one’ was a ‘one’ was a ‘one’ and that would never change. A woman – any woman, every woman - was different every time he talked to her. It didn’t add up.
So Rodney stuck to what did add up – numbers, physics, and the orderliness of the universe. He told himself that the disorder of a personal relationship had no place in his world and he didn’t miss not having one. But what he’d never admit was that he’d give it all up if he could calculate the formula or compose the piece of music that would make the right woman fall in love with him.
**Author's Note:**
> SG Challenges: # 21 “Numbers / Calculations”
> August 8, 2006 |
2492ae59dc884d4aae112d4044a5976e | ['e003d19097c6461995f5ae56256a418f'] | “I don’t want to hear it, Yuri.” She said, still in that eerily calm voice, walking to the pile of shirts on the floor, and threw her son’s top at him. “Put this on _now_. I want you down at the car in five minutes... I can’t even look at you right now.”
She turned and left the room. Yuuri heard the front door close as Viktor sat up and slid Yuuri off his groin.
“Why did you have to do that?” Viktor demanded, looking at his cousin with fury. “Why didn’t you ask me for something like you did with your Aunt Elena? Why do _I_ get ratted out, but Elena just has to bribe you, and you say nothing?”
“Because Aunt Elena wasn’t doing something illegal.” Yurio explained, his voice quieter than Yuuri has ever heard it. “Immoral, yes, but not illegal. Despite what you think of me, Viktor, I _do_ have a conscience. And Yuri’s mother had the right to know what you were doing to her son.”
Yuuri silently zipped up his sweatshirt and headed out the living room door, leaving the family members to argue amongst themselves, but Viktor caught him before he left the apartment, still bare-chested.
“Yuri,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Text me, or… or call me, when you get done talking to your mother. I want to know what she says. I need to know that you’ll be OK.”
Yuuri nodded, and gave Viktor a chaste kiss on the lips before heading down the three flights of stairs to his mother’s waiting car.
The ride back home was awkward, the silence was deafening. Several times Yuuri thought about saying something, but nothing he could think of sounded like a good enough reason as to why he was dry-humping a college student on his couch. He felt cold, despite the heater being on. Goosebumps raised on his arms, and he shivered most of the way home.
Once at home, Yuuri sat on the couch, looking at Hiroko and waited for her to start screaming. He _wanted_ her to start screaming… but she didn’t. She just looked tired, even though it was only 7pm.
“Mama?” Yuuri prompted, hoping to get something from her.
“Why, Yuri?” She asked simply. “I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you were responsible. Didn’t I make myself clear on this boy?”
Yuuri said nothing. He felt his eyes sting with tears. He had disappointed his mother, and that was worse than making her angry. Yuuri looked up, trying to blink away the tears, but they stubbornly slid out. “Mama… I’m s-so sorry,” he wept. “I-I didn’t m-mean to –”
“To what?” Hiroko asked, her voice suddenly sharp. “Didn’t mean for me to find out? Yuri, what the hell was going on in your head when you though getting involved with him was a good idea? Hm?”
“I don’t know!” Yuuri pleaded, openly crying now. “It was a-a mistake, alright? I made a s-stupid decision in the heat of the moment.”
“I told you I didn’t trust him,” Hiroko said bitterly. “I knew he was going to make you do something you never would. To be honest, I thought it was going to be drugs. I don’t know if this is any better...” she took a deep breath. “Obviously, you can’t continue to see him. In fact, I forbid it. If I see him near you again, I _will_ call the police, he’s lucky I decided against it this time.”
“No! Mama, please! I won’t… _we_ won’t do anything like it again!” Yuuri begged. Never seeing Viktor was unimaginable, he had never been happier since they got together almost a fortnight ago.
“I’m sorry, Yuri, but you’ve proven to me that you can’t be trusted with him.” His mother said, flatly. “Now, I want you to unlock your phone and delete his number.”
“Mama, _please_!” Yuuri sobbed, unable to hide his desperation. “Don’t make me do that!”
“Yuri, this is not up for negotiation.”
He knew he wasn’t going to win this. So, with trembling fingers, Yuuri pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and unlocked it. Hiroko moved so she was peering over his shoulder, making sure he actually did delete it. He selected Viktor’s name, pressed edit, scrolled to the bottom and tapped “delete contact”.
It felt like a bullet had pierced his heart as he confirmed the deletion. His contact list looked so empty without Viktor’s name listed. To make matters worse, Hiroko made Yuuri clear his recent incoming and outgoing calls, and texts so that there was no trace of Viktor Nikiforov within his phone’s memory.
“I know you’re mad at me now, but you’ll understand when you’re older,” Hiroko said, patting her son gently on the back. “You’ll see this was all for your own good.”
Yuuri stormed out the room and up to his bedroom, slamming the door shut with such force, a picture fell off his wall. He collapsed onto his bed, face buried in the pillow and screamed as loud as he could, with the pillow muffling most of the sound. He screamed until his throat was raw, then he just cried silently, curled in a ball. His nose hurt where his glasses dug in. This was officially the worst day of his life.
The youngster was just about dozing off to sleep after his titanic cry wiped him, when his phone buzzed.
“Unknown Number: What did your mother say? xx”
Yuuri’s heart picked up hopefully.
“Viktor?” he typed.
A few moments later, the Unknown Number replied “Yeah. So what did she say? You didn’t text me and I’m beginning to get worried. xx”
Yuuri’s face cracked into a grin. He may have deleted Viktor’s number, but Viktor still had his. The younger teen saved the number once again, but this time he saved it to the name “Hisoka”. | a66fda2f119b4879b49db33ab7564c9d | ['e003d19097c6461995f5ae56256a418f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Alright, here's the sequel to A New Porn y'all keep badgering me for.
>
> This fic is 2/3 completed on a word document on my laptop, so expect sporadic updates in the final few chapters.
>
> UPDATE: 4th Nov 2016 - My laptop was fucked, and I've lost this entire fic after taking it in to get fixed cos I forgot to back it up (I know, I'm an idiot), so updates will be temporarily be discontinued until I have time to re-write them :\
It wasn’t the first time Luke Skywalker had an armful of screaming toddler. No matter how much prior warning he gave his son, bedtime was always a nightmare. Every night Luke told Anakin “Ten more minutes, then it’s bed time.” And each time the ten minutes was up, the three-year-old would get fussy.
Anakin would kick and scream as his dad carried him through the Rebel base on the ice planet of Hoth to his room, getting sympathetic glances from his fellow rebels as he passed. Sometimes Luke thought that blowing up the Death Star was easier than getting his offspring to settle for the night.
Eventually, Anakin stopped squirming enough for his dad to strip him and get him into his little pyjamas.
“Go pick a story,” Luke said, setting the three-year-old on the ground. Anakin padded to the shelf of Datapads and handed one over. It was his favourite; The Three Wookies.
As usual, the young fighter pilot only got two-thirds of the way through reading the story before his son dropped off to sleep. He looked so angelic curled up on his side, his little thumb slowly sliding out his mouth. Anakin was like a miniature version of his other parent, Han Solo. They had the same fluffy brown hair, the same eyes, face, build… everything. There was almost nothing physically that suggested that Anakin was related to Luke. But his stubborn personality and the uncanny ability to get what he wanted with an adorable smile was all inherited from the Skywalker side.
Switching the datapad off, Luke gently rose from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler. He turned on the security monitor, and headed to his own room across the snowy hall.
Luke flopped onto his bed with a relieved sigh. The worst part of the day was over. Now he just had a few hours to wait and his husband would be back from his mission to Ord Mantell.
Checking the time, he discovered that Han would be back in less than two hours. It gave Luke enough time to have a shower, and make preparations to show the smuggler how much he missed him.
When Han entered the bedroom he shared with Luke, he found that the room wasn’t as bright as it normally was; he could still see perfectly fine, but the lighting was set to give an obvious mood.
“Welcome home,” came a voice from the bed. Han turned his attention to the source and saw Luke lying back propped up on his elbows, wearing nothing but red lace panties and sporting a large hard-on.
“I see you’ve missed me,” the smuggler smirked as he shucked off his jacket and prowled his way to the young blonde.
Luke nodded his head, seductively biting his bottom lip. Han perched on the side of the bed, bringing his husband’s face to his and pressing a kiss against those soft lips.
The blonde pulled away and looked into Han’s eyes with determination. “You have too many clothes on. Take them off.” The smuggler groaned and unfastened his shirt, throwing it to the ground before capturing Luke into another searing kiss. Pushing his husband onto his back, Han began sucking and biting at the sensitive spot just below Luke’s jawbone. All the previous hickeys had disappeared from the former farmboy’s neck and chest… Han had to rectify this immediately, and Luke agreed judging by the way he moved his head to give his husband better access.
Han felt Luke grabbing at his belt, trying to undo it, but failing due to Han’s lips still being attached to his neck. “Han… please…” Luke breathed. “I need your cock in me.”
Pulling away, the smuggler was satisfied with the red mark he left on the blonde’s neck, which will be _very_ visible come the morning. So he toed off his boots, and tossed his pants and underwear onto the floor, kneeling before his husband; buck-naked.
Leaning down, Han mouthed at the lace fabric, feeling Luke’s hardened member give a twitch as he massaged his balls with one hand, while the other fondled the blonde’s nipples. A small wet patch was beginning to appear at the front of Luke’s underwear. Knowing his husband was leaking for him, was making Han’s dick even harder.
Han hooked his thumbs inside the panties and pulled them down and off the former farmboy’s slender hips; exposing the long, hard cock that made the smuggler’s mouth water.
“I’ve missed you,” Han whispered as he threw the garment haphazardly over his shoulder.
“I’ve missed you too,” Luke replied, bringing the brunette’s head down to give him a deep, desperate kiss. “Now fuck me.”
Han chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna screw you so hard, you won’t be able to sit for a week.” His words causing Luke’s breath to hitch.
“You gonna do it, or just talk about it?” The blonde challenged with a smirk.
His question was answered with Han attaching his mouth to the other side of Luke’s neck, sucking and biting an identical bruise to the previous one. Han ground his erection down against his husband’s, the precum leaking from their cocks made the rubbing together so much smoother, making both men groan in pleasure.
“I want to show you something,” Luke said, his breathing laboured. |
a9efaebf64484a09920d94b94c21b1b5 | ['e01bca04627e406fa7fad7e93173eee5'] | Namjoon absently watches the street below him for what seems like hours. At dusk, he notices that a set of familiar eyes are twinkling up at a face he's sure he's seen before, he just can't place it. He casually moves to the far corner of the balcony to get a better view. He curses under his breath when it hits him, the beautiful eyes are easily recognised as who he affectionately refers to as "4C"...a neighbour...and the man? He knows he's seen him somewhere...his brains reaction tells him it's important but for the life of him....He just can't remember.
**************************************************************************************************************************************************
Yoongi carefully walks back to the temporary place he's sharing with Joon. He hums an old nursery rhyme as he slowly makes his way through alley ways and across busy streets to keep any prying eyes off his trail.
He is in deep thought, with a thousand questions throwing a festival in his head. That Kim Seokjin was smart and sly enough to not give his weakness away; they had been following him for a week or two and still couldn't figure out who he was here for almost every day. He was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't see the smartly dressed man trying very hard to gather up scattered variety of candy and junk food from his temporary buildings front door.
Yoongi stops a few steps away and looks him over-
\- The softest smile
\- Raven hair falling into his eyes
\- An unruly silver bracelet that kept trying to escape its assigned wrist
\- The goofiest laugh each time something rolled away from him each time he tried to grab it....
Yoon shakes the fog from his head and hesitantly steps forward, kneeling down to offer a hand.
The man registers the gesture and smiles up at him - shattering Yoon's heart - they work in comfortable silence as they stuff everything into The man's pockets stopping here and there to laugh shyly at the comical bulging they are creating.
The last twinkie is safely crammed into his pants pocket and Min Yoongi has never wanted to hold someone's hand so much, he can actually feel his ears twitch from the absolute raw desire. A simple, intimate act of holding this beautiful man's hand. His whole body was frozen by this dull ache for contact.
No words are exchanged. The beautiful man simply winks a 'thanks' and walks away, leaving Yoongi breathless and confused. He feels like he knows that face...But from where?
He turns and walks into the building he temporarily calls home and makes his way to the 4th floor determined to tell Namjoon about The man...today's excursion promptly forgotten.
6. Should have turned around And left before the sun came up again. But the sun came up again.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> " You're the new guy...right? 4A?". Language? Namjoon knows not what that is. Speech? Who is she? The question hangs in the air and her smile falters slightly as concern creeps into her features. " You ok?"..."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Okay so I had to do some editing because I'm a noob who doesn't know what editing is.*sigh*
The days crawled by with Joon trying to juggle keeping an eye on 4C and The mark without giving himself away to either one of them. Yoongi had become less focused on the job and more on some guy he'd met.
Joon wasn't about to snap him out of his delusions...the old man deserved this, deserved to have a shot at love - or whatever this turned out to be.
Cool. The mission had turned into 3 mini missions - Kill the gangster, get Yoons laid, get the girl - no problem. He could handle this.
He'd taken to doing most of the surveillance both digital and physical, giving Yoongi more time to find his mystery man.
On one particularly sunny morning, Namjoon was about to quietly leave the apartment when he heard 4C's door squeak open. He'd become familiar with the sound because he'd memorized her movements, she was predictable and probably always on time for everything. Joon found this excruciatingly adorable.
He listened as her soft foot steps passed their door and lightly padded down the stairs. Forehead on door, heart in throat, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding. Joon slowly opened the door and stepped out gently, closing it behind him. With one last sigh, he made his way downstairs.
He counted each stair as he lightly jogged down 4 flights of them, ticking off the checklist in his mind-
\- Pistol ✔
\- Wallet ✔
\- Phone ✔
....He didn't complete his list because his heart nearly stopped as he walked out the main door and found the prettiest eyes smiling up at him...His ears turning a deep red, the assassin stared right into her eyes, not knowing if the smile was directed at him. He finally smiled back when she raised her perfect hand in greeting.
" _You're the new guy...right? 4A?_ ". Language? Namjoon knows not what that is. Speech? Who is she? The question hangs in the air and her smile falters slightly as concern crept into her features. " _You ok?_ "..." _Yeah...yes! Sorry...yea...we moved into 4A. My partn_ -..... _uhm friend and I._ "...He scratched his head and looked up praying for Devine intervention, which was delivered in the form of the man he saw her with the other night.It takes 4C a second to turn her eyes from a blushing Joon - but when she does , her face splits in two from her stunning smile as her eyes settle on his bouncy form. | fa0c557e9081479cb6304d8100911024 | ['e01bca04627e406fa7fad7e93173eee5'] | " You were always there to remind me to take it slow. When you were done laughing at me." At this Jirongie laughs wholeheartedly. Alternating between clutching his ribs and wiping the tears from his eyes.
" One step at a time? That's the advice you're recycling?" laughter still trickling from his lips.
" Worked back then, should apply to this situation. Just...don't forget to see the doctor too, you still need to do that- "
" Yeah. Yes...I'm still seeing her."
They share a look. A knowing one. Namjoon suddenly retreats towards the glass door holding up his hands in surrender " Nope. No. Don't say it"
His colleague smiles wickedly once more " Follow your own advice dum-dum!".
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Had a conversation with a colleague, similar to this one. All I kept thinking was, there are so many people out there who carry burdens but never show it, only show their vulnerable sides to one person ( if their lucky enough to have that ). I wish everyone had somewhere to take their burdens and worries and leave them there, if only for a few minutes a day.
>
> Guess who's taking their real-life experiences and writing an AU about them? This dumbass right here. Exactly what I said I wouldn't do...*sighs in stressed adult* planning isn't what it used to be.
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Not a chapter
I'm stuck. Willfully blocked; whatever's stumped me feels heavy. I'm stubborn though so...
Just - by show of hands - who's enjoyed this story so far?
Anyhoo, guess this is where it stops 'til I figure out how to end it.
Mwaaahzies. |
5068c7410db74bc3b0a17bcfa62d2e3b | ['e02484f42b06464f96c3d81ed706dd28'] | Tears started welling up in his eyes, unprompted and uncontrolled. The thought of a person's life, of that woman's life just _ stopping _ , it wrecked him, it tore him up inside. It didn't even hurt him because it might have been his fault. It was just… so _ final. _ So brutal and ugly. She would have been dead. _ Dead _ .
It was a long night. A long, tired, sad night.
* * *
Morning came with a loud, barking, angry alarm. He rolled over and swatted his clock to shut it off, then rolled out of bed with a groan. It was early, of course, he had to be up early to get into the office on time. But that was not the first thing on his mind, for once. His routine was disrupted, right out of the gate. He stumbled over into his shower, still foggy with sleep, and got his wash done in record time.
As he dressed, he debated. He could call work, tell them that he was not able to get into the office that day, spend the day with her. But would she want that? Would she appreciate it, or would she become angrier? Was she even still there?
He descended the stairs with a bit more emphasis than usual. He wanted to give her notice of his approach, catching her by surprise would be a disaster. But when he came into the sitting room, he found two things. First, she was still there. Second, she was still asleep, passed out on the couch on her side, pillow under her head, blanket haphazardly thrown over her shoulder. She looked so much calmer and at peace in sleep than she did when she was awake.
He crossed the sitting room and went to the kitchen to prepare his work lunch. Sandwiches, some fruit and pieces of cheese. Healthy food, it got him through the day. Once it was all done and packed away, he started on breakfast. And it was as he was cooking breakfast, eggs in a skillet, that she woke up.
“It smells like a cheap diner in here.” She mumbled through a hand wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”
“It's early. You're welcome to go back to sleep if you want. I have to be at the office in about an hour, so I'm usually up this early.”
He was focused on cooking, so he only heard as she got up from the couch and retreated around the corner to the bathroom. It struck him as he cooked that he did not know whether she wanted a hot breakfast or not. He had other options for her, hot and cold cereal, fruit, other things in the fridge, but in his experience a hot breakfast on a cold morning was always welcome.
So when she emerged from the bathroom and had a chance to settle herself, returning to the couch and wrapping herself in the blanket, he spoke to her. “Do you want some eggs? I have plenty, I can make you some once I'm done with mine.”
She looked up at him and blinked for a moment, then said: “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
He nodded and went back to work. He was making himself a simple omelet: cheese and sliced peppers, using ingredients he already had in the fridge. As he filled the omelet and closed it, he asked her, “How do you like them? Scrambled, over-easy, sunny side up?”
“Scrambled.” She said, “With salt and a bit of pepper. And maple syrup if you have it.”
“Syrup too?” He was a bit surprised but it was not all that astonishing. He hadn't thought to put syrup on eggs not since he was much younger. “I think I have some in the pantry. I'll let you add that, though, I don't want to make them too sweet.”
“Thank you.” She sounded so tired still. She probably needed another few hours of sleep. It had been a long night, after all.
“I'm sorry for waking you up.”
“It's fine. I'd rather you wake me up making breakfast than doing other things.”
He let that be. As with everything, it was her business, not his. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. He cracked some new eggs into a bowl and took a fork to them to whisk them up for scrambling. “Do you have milk scrambled eggs, or just the eggs themselves?”
She shrugged. “I'm not sure there's a difference.”
“There is if it is done properly.” He went to the fridge to retrieve the milk and hoisted it over the bowl to show her. “Half and half?”
“Sure, whatever.”
He set to work, whisking a small amount, just a choice dash or so, of milk into the eggs. The skillet was still hot, so he gave it a dash of olive oil and then poured the eggs on and stirred them around as they cooked. The milk helped give them fluff and texture. Too much milk made them soggy, and not enough just made them a bit milky tasting. But if you got it just right…
He smiled as the eggs sizzled. It did smell a lot like an old diner. If he had more time, he might have cooked up some bacon as well, or maybe put some coffee in the old percolator he still had lying around somewhere. But he only had, and he checked the clock on the back of the oven to confirm, ten minutes at the most to spend eating before he had to drive out. So he waited until the eggs were dry, dished them onto a clean plate, sprinkled some salt and pepper over them, then collected a fork and the maple syrup bottle from the pantry before taking it out to her.
“Here we are.” He said, “Eggs made to order, scrambled with salt and pepper and maple syrup on the side.” | 1fc7dd912f91468e8913cb1cfe440047 | ['e02484f42b06464f96c3d81ed706dd28'] | "Well then. I suppose it would be a matter of what their mind believes that it knows." The first sips her tea, almost teasing.
"Indeed." The second does not sound impressed, but she does sound accepting. "There is an obsession with knowledge, but it is wisdom that should guide. Experience of the universe and the beings in it."
"In your experience, is it best for those with the power of the Force around them to seek to impact their world or turn away from it?" The first asks, "Your students, the Revenant, and the Exile, they turned their galaxy upside down in their time. As did my Solo. But was that what was best for them?"
"I fault the Jedi for that." The second says with bitterness. "The Jedi fill them with a sense of responsibility, that they must somehow use their gifts for the unending betterment of others, that they have a higher calling by the Force itself or some such dreck. Their vision is so limited. They do not see the universe, only their own little part of it. And they think the best way to hold back the darkness is to flail blindly against it rather than creating more light."
"Would it be best if they remained quiet, then? Sat out their lives on their home planets, never became Jedi, never went about the galaxy."
"I would say so, yes. But I also know that the Force being what it is, that would never happen. It seems to draw the destined out into prominence regardless of how qualified they are for the task. Some rise to the occasion, some do not."
"We are all pieces in the game of destiny, pulled here and there by forces we do not know. The Force, luck, chance, it has many names. And in that game, some are pawns who think themselves kings, and some are kings who are certain they are mere pawns."
"And there are those who know their roles, who indeed see the whole board, and who must play their part and abide by the game's rules despite it all." The second sets her cup of tea aside. "You and I both, I think, fit that role."
"It can be frustrating to see the more and yet not be able to direct the pieces." The first says with a reticent smile while tracing a feathery finger around the rip off her cup. "Near omniscience without omnipotence is a curse we both must bear, as many do who join the Force."
"You are too generous with them." The second shakes her head, but not insistently, rather more indulgently. "Too many Jedi or Sith cannot see past the end of their own noses to things of importance. The Jedi are too passive and too insular, the Sith are too selfish and too brash. The few among them with true vision are reduced to shouting for attention from the corners where they have been shunned."
"Or moving themselves to the center of the board, unseen and thus unopposed." The first teases. "That much we share without any doubt."
"True, very true." The second looks for a moment at her discarded cup of tea, then turns back. "I did not ask for you to come here merely for tea and conversation, as stimulating as both of those things may be."
"I did not think that was so, but I do thank you for providing both." The first takes one last sip of her tea before setting her cup aside as well. "What is the purpose of this meeting, if I may ask?"
"We both talk about the game, about pieces moving across the board both within and without our control and purview. As things stand now, we have both been removed from the board, but we may still observe all we wish, our own world and the past and future."
"All of these exist in the Force, of course." The first murmurs. "Time does not flow here as it did in the world we came from."
"I ask you, then, what is the role of the observer except to see what might be and what is to happen?" The second challenges, but her voice is not harsh. "I am not as arrogant as some, I have not imposed my will upon the world again since leaving it. But perhaps that has been a missed opportunity. There is the past, there is the future, but there is also a now that we may see."
"You are proposing that we do as others have done and return to the world that is?" The first speaks almost accusingly, but also thoughtfully. "Such a thing might not be possible."
It was the second's turn to smile. "Who is either of us to say what is impossible?"
The first smiled in return. "A good point, well made. My question then becomes, why? Why return to the world that is at all, why go back? We have had our time, our students have all gone, there is no one left who knows our names."
"All the more reason, then. We can influence, guide, teach, and there will be no judgment or prejudice left for us. No one to call us a teacher. No one to condemn us as heretics. We can pass our wisdom along to the world that is and have students with ears that will listen. A voice from beyond is always given more weight than a person in front of you, even if they are speaking the same truth."
The first ponders for a moment, long feathery fingers threading together in her lap. The second does not prompt or prod her. After all, patience is easy in a place where time is immaterial. Is it hours before she responds, or just moments? Neither, or perhaps both.
“Perhaps a voice of questioning or doubt to endeavor a wayward soul to think more.” The first says at last, “Perhaps an impression or thought to prod them in the way they should go. We are one with the Force, and who is to say that the Force does not speak through us while we speak through it?”
“Even if we do not, fools and simpletons will believe that we do.” The second says with satisfaction. “And that is just as well. The world has no end of simpletons and fools.”
The first smiles, eyes focused again into the distance, as if she could see time and space part before her to show her the world that is. “Neither a teacher nor a heretic. This will be fun.” |
99211735e1644c74926c750f736e7901 | ['e02bf5247fc34f08a56cd9c927280014'] | “Yes. Some doctors got out before the airports shut down and the quarantines went up, because their own hospitals were being overwhelmed with the disease. I can’t tell if I’m envious of them or not. But I was a big neurosurgeon and I wasn’t needed for something that looked like the flu. By the time it got bad Channing had already wrapped a division of the army to secure the best minds in the country, and an official mandate from the President to start developing a vaccine.”
“There’s a cure?” That was the first time Luke had even heard of any way of combating the zombies other than a gun to the head. He held his breath as Reid placed his hands on his knees sounding exhausted.
“No.”
“Then what is Channing still doing?” Luke said angrily.
“He doesn’t believe it Luke. Once the virus attacks it eats away at the parts of your brain responsible for sympathy and communication. It makes people aggressive, it makes them monsters. There is no reversing the effects of brain damage. And its incubation period is so quick there is not even a way to try and contain it.”
“You saw all this in the lab? Were you infecting people?”
“No. These are natural mutations we saw within rats, and already infected individuals. But Channing certainly wanted to. That was the final straw. I’m a doctor not a freaking Nazi. I couldn’t stay there anymore after that. I couldn’t argue with him about the ethical ramifications of infecting healthy people.” Reid made a weird noise in the back of his throat, and smiled. “I’m usually the one having a lecture over ethics. Now I know how my superiors felt.” The sound Luke realized was a strained laugh, that didn’t know if it was coming or going. Reid sighed and softly asked, “Why do you think I was intent on getting you away from Channing and his dogs?”
“I thought you had left me behind at the hotel.”
“You’re lucky I had to pee that morning.” He crossed his arms defensively. “If I hadn’t been up when I was I wouldn’t have been able to sneak away and grab my bike.”
Luke felt the man slump a little into him, putting his weight on his side but Luke straightened up exclaiming, “We have to stop him.”
“Whoa! Hold on a second, there is no we, and there is no stopping him either. The most I was going to do is slip a note under his door and sneak away.”
“Like a dog with your tail between your legs?”
“Hey, I’m walking away alive in that analogy so call me what you will. And why the hell do you care, not once did I say the name Noah. The more you ask to travel with me the more I think you’re in love with me.” Luke’s eyes widened and his mouth again tried to form some sort of protest.
“I love Noah.”
“Than what do you think of me, and it would help if you looked at me.” Even though he found the ground quite fascinating, he complied. The seat on the motorcycle was small and they sat side by side. When he turned his head their faces were close enough that he could feel Reid’s heavy breathing against his skin. An uneasy feeling crept into his stomach at the smile now playing on the doctor’s face. He felt a warm hand against his cheek and he couldn’t help but willfully lean into it.
“But, you… you’re not… are you?”
Reid whispered, “Your naivete is so adorable it makes me sick.” And then he was lost. Anger, passion, tension, fear and everything else that had been plaguing his mind faded away at the pressure on his lips. It gave him relief from the months of torture he had been enduring.
Lust was the first emotion to impact him and take control of his fervid actions. He wanted much more than this tame kiss. Awkwardly, he shifted himself around the bike, trying to not break contact. If he did the regret might soon take over, and he wasn’t ready to start feeling sorry about anything he was doing.
Luke pulled the doctor as far into the embrace as physically possible. He gripped at the shaggy hair, and dug his nails into his back wanting nothing more than to never breathe again if it meant breaking the kiss. Somehow they ended up on the warm asphalt. Reid’s hands were under his shirt, and Luke tried desperately to resist reaching into the loose clothing for Reid’s penis because an awful feeling began to break into the sexual intimacy. Their thrusting and sloppy kissing subsided into reasoned self-restraint.
Soon they were just sitting in the middle of the road, their hands still reaching out wanting to grope. Heavily panting Reid looked up at the sun, and Luke knew exactly what he was thinking. The sun was dangerously sinking and it was time to find shelter. They mounted the motorcycle without a word, and Reid once again took the reins.
Luke couldn’t help but let the feelings fester, and soon the whole euphoria was drained from his body and he felt sick. Regret had taken hold and he wished he could have been brave enough to ignore the doctor and press on towards Texas. He felt the man intertwine their hands, in a gesture Luke would never have expected. Luke sighed, things were officially more complicated.
4. Chapter 4
They had hastily scoped out an old motel, and found it more than suitable for their needs. As much as Luke’s mind kept racing to what two people could do in a hotel room to pass the time, these weren’t ideal circumstances. They changed their bloody clothes, and slept in individual queen sized beds because somehow they knew hormones could only last so long before trouble reared its ugly head again. | 2a286760f3cc4739a30dd001cf6f6d2a | ['e02bf5247fc34f08a56cd9c927280014'] | “You called for me.” Reid said. “Standing like a speck of dust on the sun and making me squint to even see you. Small and dying on the asphalt. This whole time you’ve wanted me to give you something. If not to heal you than what?”Luke didn’t answer, even when he wanted to scream insults he couldn’t. Without an answer Reid continued.
“I thought that’s all I was good for. I’m supposed to heal the sick, the tired, the hurt and the dying. What I’ve come to realize is that I’m not even good for that. If it’s worth anything, I love you. For all your whining, and all your smiles, and even for using me as a seat-filler, a part of me fucking broke for you. Thanks for giving even a glance in my direction. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you.” The regret in the man’s voice was crushing Luke almost as much as his own.
Screams echoed in the hallway, followed by shooting. The soldier watching the hostages hesitated, but didn’t need to move a muscle. Channing came back into the hall something emerging after him faster than he could escape. A figure all but flew across the long distance crushing him into the ground. Immediately it flailed slashing with arms still trapped within a loosening straight jacket.
“Get it off me!” He screamed.
But the soldiers didn’t shoot right away. The fabric, that restrained the damage from the thing’s hands, was slowly tearing. One of the soldiers had lowered his gaze with a stern look, while the other one that had been left with the task to look over the hostages franticly tried to find a way to shoot without hurting the doctor. The last soldier wasn’t there.
“What are you waiting for? Help me you useless jarheads, that’s an order!”
The creature was stronger than any zombie Luke had seen before. Luke noticed Channing could not even throw it off balance enough to give the soldiers a clear shot. The frantic soldier got closer, and began shooting it, but it just seemed to anger the monster more. It bent back and flung itself at the soldier with amazing strength ignoring the continuing shots. It finally freed it’s arms from the restraints and ripped through a flak jacket like digging into soft flesh.
Finally the other soldier moved. He expertly shot round after round into the monster but it just kept going. Gurgles of blood bubbled into the screams that filled the room, and when the soldier was down to using the end of his gun as a weapon finally the zombie collapsed onto its side dead like his prey. The doctor still sat in the middle of the room, his clothes torn, but fine. He shakily stood for a second his eyes trying to focus before lunging at something.
“Neeti!” His scream was followed by Neeti’s as he fell on top of her. Channing closed his hands over her throat. The last remaining soldier shot Channing in the shoulder, causing him to roll away from her. Channing returned fire with Luke’s automatic. The soldier tried to take cover, but was clipped, and he collapsed in a pile holding his bleeding leg.
“You all have a death wish!” Channing yelled. He ran over and kicked the man’s gun across the room, before he could recover. He now had both of Luke’s weapons dangerously waving them around. “I’m offering you all salvation, and you’re crying over semantics!”
Reid rose quickly before Luke could do anything to try and stop him. He fell on his side struggling to free himself, and watching in horror as Reid approached the seething doctor.
“Semantics!” Reid roared, and teetered, his balance off set by his arms bound to his side. “My life; his life; people’s lives are semantics to you?” Channing aimed the gun at him, and it was shaking from rage.
“Sacrifices must be made to save all of our lives.”
“You don’t get to choose who to sacrifice to appease your entitlement.”
“And you do? The great Reid Oliver has spoken and so it must be done! No. I’m standing up to you, like someone should have done a long time ago. And I’m going to put you in your place.” Channing put the pistol to Reid’s head, and Luke quickly blinked trying to remove the tears from his eyes.
Reid’s arm slipped out of loosened cord, and tore the gun away before Channing had the dexterity to respond. In a quick second they were both at arm’s length with a weapon in their hands. This would decide the fate of them all. Channing was shaking enough to make his aim waiver even as his white knuckled grip on Reid’s M16 tried to keep it steady.
Reid was calm, his voice gruff. “Shoot me Charles.”
“Reid!”
“Shut up, Mr. Snyder.” Luke felt the words crash back down his throat at the command.
“Why don’t you do it?” Reid said.
“Because you deserve to die in a much more painful way. This is too merciful.”
“You’d be lost without me, Charles. Without someone to compete with or someone to give you their scraps. You are nothing but a bottom feeder!” Reid lowered the gun to his side as Channing dug the M16’s barrel into his chest and over his heart. “You can’t do it. That’s why I’m a renowned neurosurgeon and you-”
Channing screamed and pulled the trigger, but the gun just clicked; empty. Reid laughed. Channing dove for the pistol, but a shot rang out stopping him in his tracks. He collapsed forward and Reid caught him, the pistol forgotten and on the floor. William stalked towards them from the hallway.
“Are you guys ok?” He said.
Reid just grumbled, “I just asked for one thing,” as William hurried to go untie Luke, and check on the wounded soldier while Neeti and Reid cradled a dying Charles Channing. |
71770573b2ab4d8b90477c16a3e84ac1 | ['e02ebcb9fdd044d88845e0c87d045884'] | Mornings With Lance
**Author's Note:**
> uhh i posted this forever ago and decided to take it down and rewrite it! it's still super short, but enjoy!
Lance loved waking up in the mornings.
He loved waking up refreshed, to his warm blankets, to the two cats curled up at his feet, and even to the sun that always found its way into his eyes. He loved every bit of the morning.
He loved stretching, feeling his muscles pull and come to life, the heaviness leaving his limbs, the creaks and pops of his bones sounding off like small alarms.
He loved to look out the windows from where he lay, seeing the morning dew settled on the lawn, clutching to the blades of grass and to the flowers he had put so much effort into planting. He loved to look from his window and see the beginnings of everyone’s day, from his neighbors all scattered among the street he occupied.
He loved those first steps out of bed, the cool feeling of hardwood against his bare feet, still warm from the blankets he loved so much, sending a small chill through his body, waking him up further.
But, there was one thing that made Lance cherish mornings far more than he ever had before.
Lance had always loved the mornings ever since he was young but waking up next to Keith made them even more special to him.
Lance loved seeing Keith this way, far from how he looked while awake. His face slack and his mouth wide open, breathing soft breaths onto the pillow. It was rare to ever see Keith so relaxed, it made him look younger in a way, his face far from being scrunched up in anger or annoyance.
He liked to study Keith when he was like this, in the early hours of the morning, far before either of them started their day. His features loose with sleep, the way his hair wildly settled onto his forehead, it was far different than seeing Keith in action, muscles tense with movement, from the tight line of his shoulders to his furrowed brows.
Lance carefully pushed some of Keith’s wild hair from his eyes, to see his short eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, rosy from the warmth of the bed and the body that had since been next to him.
Lance knew Keith would soon wake up, and so he softly pressed a quick kiss to Keith’s forehead.
Lance felt a small smile form on his lips as he slipped out of bed, making his way through their small apartment.
Lance loved the mornings, but he loved waking up next to Keith more than anything. | d8c9fbd732044092978965d846f4b400 | ['e02ebcb9fdd044d88845e0c87d045884'] | Bakugou had never seen Kaminari look at anyone the way he was looking at Bakugou now, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips pulled down into an obvious frown, “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” Kaminari snapped at him.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Sparky?” Bakugou spat, shoving his way into the small dorm room, “Where’s Kirishima? I’ve been texting him for like two days without any response.” Bakugou peered around the room, noting Kirishima wasn’t there, and that a few of his things were missing as well.
Kaminari turned from the doorway, a look of confusion on his face, “Dude, he’s been gone for like a week now, I haven’t heard from him since he said he was going home… and that was like last Friday.” Kaminari crossed his arms, making it obvious he wasn’t happy to have Bakugou standing in the middle of his dorm.
“What the fuck did he go home for?” At this point, Bakugou was pacing, trying to work together why Kirishima had gone home without at least giving him a heads up. They were close, at least Bakugou thought so, so why hadn’t Kirishima told him?
“You know what, never mind, fuck it, I’ll go find him myself.” Bakugou snarled, making his way to the door, only for Kaminari to step in his way.
“Uh, well, I don’t know about that, dude, he seemed pretty upset about something when I saw him leaving,” Kaminari said gently, placing a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, “so maybe just give the dude some time to himself, ‘kay?”
Bakugou stilled under Kaminari’s hand, thinking about what he’d just said. Why was Kirishima upset? Did something happen with his family? No, Kirishima would’ve talked to Bakugou about that, which means it must be something he doesn’t want Bakugou to know.
At this thought, Bakugou seethed. He pushed past Kaminari’s hand, spitting out a quick reassurance to Kaminari that he wasn’t going to go after Kirishima, which he meant, for now.
2. A Piece of Cake
Kirishima wasn’t sure what to tell his mom.
She had picked him up exactly where he’d asked and had found him sitting on a bench on the outskirts of campus, tear tracks staining his flushed cheeks. She hadn’t said anything as he climbed into her car, only looked at him softly and briefly placed a hand on his.
She knew there was obviously something wrong, Kirishima had never before asked her to pick him up from campus, he could easily drive himself to his family’s house.
Kirishima felt guilty for asking her to drive all this way just to pick him up, but if he was being honest he didn’t really trust himself to drive at the moment.
He could feel the way she was looking at him as well, her worried gaze falling heavily against his side, it made him uncomfortable, like he needed to talk and fill the silence between them. Thankfully, she spoke before he had the chance to.
“So, what’s wrong, hun?” She said, glancing at his slumped figure from her seat next to his.
Kirishima sighed, he knew this had been coming, and pulled himself up from the window he had drooped against, and instead shifted in his seat to look at her.
As the words he wanted to say formed in his head he couldn’t help but feel his throat tighten up, and tears once again blurring his vision. As cliché as he knew it sounded, it still hurt to think about.
At not hearing a response, Kirishima’s mom looked over, instantly noting the look on her son’s face. Pulling a hand from the steering wheel, she placed it on his arm, giving a small squeeze to comfort him.
“Just, uh, gimme some time to get my thoughts together, ‘kay, mom?” Kirishima’s voice was quiet, his mom noted, unusual for his normal, boisterous self.
“Of course, hun. Anything you need.”
By the end of the week, Kirishima decided, he would tell her exactly what happened.
\--
Bakugou was about to put a fucking hole in the floor with the way he was pacing, walking a few hurried steps in one direction, then spinning quickly to do the same in the other.
It had only been a day since he had decided to give Kirishima the time and space that Kaminari suggested Bakugou give him, and Bakugou was brimming with anxiety.
He and Kirishima had never spent more than a week or so apart, and even then, they’d texted constantly. It had been roughly a week since Bakugou had heard from Kirishima and, needless to say, Bakugou was a wreck.
Gritting his teeth as he spun around to walk across the room for the countless time, he decided he was going to have to do something himself to figure out what Kirishima’s problem was. A thought flitted across Bakugou’s mind, what if Kirishima was tired of him?
Bakugou stopped his pacing, looking down at the carpet in his dorm. What if this was Kirishima’s way of saying he was finished with Bakugou?
Bakugou felt his eyes well up a bit, and he gritted his teeth as hard as he could, hearing them creak inside his head. _ No _ , he thought, _ Kirishima would never just leave without saying anything _ .
The longer Bakugou thought about all this, the more desperately he felt he had to talk to Kirishima. If Kirishima was done with him, he needed to hear it himself.
Bakugou slipped on his shoes and marched towards the door. If he had to go to Kirishima’s fucking house to clear this mess up, then so be it.
-
“And, so, yeah,” Kirishima sniffled, “He told me to ‘fuck off’ and leave him alone... so that’s what I did.” Kirishima finished while he wiped a stray tear that was making its way down his face. |
446e489eafe8452bbdecd111d3275198 | ['e0371b1285f44461a291cd294de63d9f'] | Edward couldn’t yet; it was merely an old brown envelope, but he opened it, pulling out a handful of old letters. It took him a moment longer before he registered, with another jolt of shock, his own childish handwriting.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It does look like he must have kept them from her, doesn’t it? It’s a bit hard to imagine him hiding them in there for any other reason. Well, unless he confiscated them later, I suppose.”
Edward sat on the bed in a daze, still looking down at the letters in his hand and barely registering that she was still talking. The topmost was nearly twenty years old; from the spring term of 1925. He could remember, after being sent to his Aunt again at Christmas, he’d been angry. He’d written his mother short, stiff little missives under protest, until they were in the second half of the term, and then he’d instead started asking and finally begging to go to her for the Easter holidays. With the words in front of him again like this, he could see it again vividly: sitting at a desk in the form room, as everyone wrote their Sunday letters home. He was hardly aware of them; all his focus on the words he was writing, pressing the paper too hard with the nib of the pen in his earnestness, promising that he’d be as quiet as they wanted, that he had plenty of school work to do, they’d hardly know he was there –
He closed his eyes, and pushed the letters back into the envelope.
“Mr Iveson?” Mrs Welland said, sounding worried and he wondered how long he’d been ignoring her. “You’re all right aren’t you? Oh, I _am_ sorry. Maybe I should have thrown them away and let it go, but it didn’t seem right.”
He shook himself. “Yes, yes, of course. It’s only that I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Of course you weren’t. Anyway, best put them away for now, and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”
Edward stood. “No, no,” he said, putting the envelope into the box, and picking it up. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I can’t stay.” Then he looked at her and decided that she deserved a little more honesty from him. “Or I’d rather not. I hope you can understand that. It’s nice to see you again, but not this house – not here.”
She hesitated and then put a hand to his arm briefly. “Of course. Look, Mr Iveson, it’s none of my business, and, as you’ve said, she wasn’t the sort to talk much, not about private things, but whatever went on, she did love you, you know. There were little things she did say – at the end, especially – it was clear as day.”
He could only nod. It seemed to him now that he had always known that, and it didn’t make anything better. What had happened in the beginning, he didn’t know, but after her failure to come to his wedding, he’d taken that as some sort of permission to be angry – to blame her. He’d spent years not bothering to do more than write the odd letter or card, if even that. And the truth was, half of that had not even been so much anger as cowardice. He hadn’t wanted to see her after his marriage broke down, with the divorce upcoming; even less when it was done and he had Marie on his conscience. If she had been unhappy, then he had added to her misery with that cowardice, and he couldn’t forgive himself.
He arrived home without having any real memory of the drive back, and stepped into the house, calling out Julia’s name, meaning to hand the box over to her, still wanting to disclaim any ownership of it. It was Julia who’d wanted him to go – Julia and Mrs Welland and Aunt Daisy – and he’d had enough of it already.
There was no answer however, so he carried it upstairs, wondering if she was with Emily and hadn’t heard him, but neither was there. He went into the bedroom and put the box down on the floor, but he couldn’t keep himself from pulling the letters out of the envelope again. He needed, he thought, to be sure that it was real. It seemed as if it must be some sort of strange practical joke.
A thought struck him suddenly, and he sat down on the bed, spreading the old sheets of writing paper out in front of him, his heart suddenly beating a little harder and faster as he searched through them for something else: a stiff, gilded card invitation, nearly twenty years old.
He saw it almost immediately, falling out between the thinner papers:
_Mr & Mrs T. H. Aldridge
Request the pleasure of your company –_
He pushed it aside again hastily, closing his eyes. He didn’t need or want to see more. His mother had told him, the first time he’d been to see her since he’d sent it and received no reply, that she’d never got it. That, he thought, proved Mrs Welland’s supposition. He didn’t know what had happened between his mother and stepfather, but he couldn’t imagine his mother would tell him such a blatant lie. | 86b33bfe078a49c1870c96ff9a9102aa | ['e0371b1285f44461a291cd294de63d9f'] | “No, no,” he said, and then made himself continue. There was an offer he had to make, and he had to do it in earnest, or they couldn’t go on. It would be too unfair. “Julia, I don’t know what’s been happening, but I suspect you were right about it being my fault in the first place. Listen, if I stood down – if I resigned – would it help?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “But you can’t. I wouldn’t ask you to – I wouldn’t want you to.”
“I could, however,” said Edward, with a slight smile. “Easily. That’s one way in which I am fortunate. I would rather not, obviously, but there are other things I could do. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Julia closed her eyes, and shook her head.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I asked you to do this, and all because I wanted an excuse to hide behind, something with which to justify my selfishness. I might regret walking away from politics – perhaps – but that I can certainly live with. Whereas if something happened to you, or even if this – whatever this is – came between us, that I don’t think I could live with. So, I am serious, Julia. Say the word.”
She hadn’t opened her eyes. “I don’t think it would help,” she said, evidently still locked inside the problem that she wouldn’t share with him. “But I do appreciate you offering.”
“Well, consider it,” he said. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t thank me. I don’t think I could have any respect left for myself if I didn’t at least suggest it.”
Julia stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “It won’t help,” she said, her voice flattened by weariness. “Not now. I wish it could. No, you see, Ned, I’ve been unrealistic about things, but I’m learning at last.”
She walked on then, heading into the bathroom, and Edward sat back down on the bed in momentary defeat, before his expression hardened into one of determination. He would have to find out what she meant somehow – and put a stop to it if he could.
55. Freedom Fighting (PG, 1956: Edward Iveson/Julia Graves)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The worst thing, sometimes, is how easy it is…
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Summer 1956; Julia Iveson, Edward Iveson.
>
> Prompts: Passionfruit #3 (Fear that makes faith may break faith), Papaya #19 (I’ve still got a few more tricks up my sleeve)
>
> Notes/warnings: spies, trust issues etc. This piece ties up the loose ends from the last two, which each follow on closely.
It should have been a good year. The party was finally back in power, if only by a narrow majority, and Edward was in line to become Minister for State at the Foreign Office, but Julia couldn’t be happy about any of it. For one thing, Amy and her family had moved to Canada and there was a resulting hole in their lives, and for another, Edward’s political victory only made Julia’s defeat worse. She was caught between her United Europe contact who was insisting she be more active, and Edward, whose rise in standing would only make him more at risk from such behaviour.
She knew now that she should never have agreed to anything more when Alec, her contact, had asked for it. He’d made threats, but Julia had soon realised that the more information she gave him, the greater his hold over her. What she should have done was talk to Edward, but it was a difficult subject, too tangled up in other complications. Anyway, she’d been too angry and upset to see that as an option at the time. Besides, she thought now, as she prepared to leave for her assignation, what on earth could Edward have done if she had?
He had offered to resign, but Alec had not only threatened her with exposing her if Edward got into power, he’d made some equally dark threats about what he’d do if Edward had failed to get elected, or stood down, just in case it was due to Julia’s interference or not. It was getting out of hand and Alec had not only pressed her to pass on more information than she wanted; now he’d started asking for money, saying that communication with central headquarters was getting difficult. That might be true, of course, and it had only been small amounts so far, which she could manage from her old personal savings account, but she didn’t really believe him.
Julia sighed, and again checked the notes in the envelope, putting them into her bag, before she walked out into the hallway, only to find Edward waiting in front of the door.
“Ned!” she said, starting violently, thanks to her current guilty conscience. “What are you doing – trying to give me a heart attack?”
Edward moved forward, catching hold of her arm, and said, quietly, “Julia. Look, you’re going to meet your contact, aren’t you? Yes?”
Bemused, she nodded. He rarely referred to the organisation in any way; it was much safer not to, so she waited for him to explain, unable to help feeling alarmed.
“Well, then,” said Edward, “if you’d set off as planned, but when you get halfway or so, turn back. Then you should contact him by whatever method you use and tell him that you couldn’t risk meeting him because you were being followed.”
“I’m sorry?” said Julia, staring up at him. She felt her throat tighten with fear. “What do you mean? Who’s following me? Or is this something I’m supposed to lie to him about?”
Edward caught hold of her other arm. “No, no, you _will_ be followed. You have been for a while. But the point is, so is he. Once you tell him, your information will confirm his own observation, and he’ll have to break off contact, at least until it’s safe again.” |
1cfd9e344eae4fb2be0d19d296161f65 | ['e0451ce053c24069bdf36eb88484e6f0'] | “Yes, Raoul. She's terrible to me, I can't do anything without her yelling at me. She won't let me go anywhere. She wants to keep me locked up like some mad wife of hers, she's always been mean to me. Even her life insurance only goes to that daughter of hers.”
“Nothing for you at all?” Raoul said. It seemed unlikely; usually almost everything a woman had was placed in care of her husband with life insurance policies.
But Erik shook his head. “No. And nothing is just what I'm worth to her.”
“So you lie awake at night, and listen to her breathing, and you get ideas.”
“I don't want to kill her, Raoul, I don't want to kill anyone.”
He swallowed, but made himself say it. “Only sometimes, you wish she was dead.”
“Perhaps I do.” Erik said in a tone Raoul couldn't read. With the bare side of his face turned away, Raoul couldn't see his expression.
“And you wish it was an accident, and you had that insurance policy. For fifty thousand dollars.”
“Perhaps that too.”
Raoul threw the words out into the room, just to see how they’d sound. “And you want a nice insurance man to help you.”
“I want _you_ to help me.” He laid one hand on Raoul’s knee, speaking earnestly now. “I want out of that house, and I want to be around someone who understands me, not a wife I can barely speak to. And I want to never have to be afraid over money again. Is that so wrong?”
In that moment, it almost didn't seem to be. But… “But it is.”
Erik’s voice altered, smoothened even more, pouring itself out into the awaiting silence. “You know, if I was in the insurance business, I think it might drive me crazy. The way you talked about fraud earlier, you made it sound as though none of you can sleep for trying to figure out the tricks people might pull on you. Tell me, is it like being the guy behind the roulette wheel? Always watching the customers to make sure they don't crook the house. And then one night, maybe you start thinking how you could crook the house yourself."
Raoul stood abruptly, nearly spilling the bourbon from his still-full glass. “I'm not listening to this, it's wrong.” He stalked off, back to the kitchen, but Erik followed him, still speaking in that terrible, level voice. Raoul tried to tell himself he wasn't listening.
“And you could do it smart, because you've got the wheel right under your hands. And you know every notch in it by heart. You figure that all you need is a plant out front, a shill to put down the bet. And suddenly the doorbell rings, and the whole setup is right there in your living room.” Raoul turned with indignation to face him, realizing too late that Erik had backed him against the sink and was now murmuring into his ear. “Can you really say you've never thought about it? It's alright, what kind of man wouldn't? You can get away with it, too. _We_ can get away with it.”
Raoul shook his head helplessly, as long fingers tangled into his hair.
“Help me, Raoul.” Suddenly he laughed, wildly, voice shaking. “I don't care if they do hang me!”
“They won't.” Raoul whispered. His head spun, but he didn't feel guilty.
“It would be better than going on this way!”
“No, I mean, you're not going to hang, because--” he swallowed. “Because I'm going to help you. We’ll do this the smart way, and I'll take care of you.”
Erik exhaled slowly. “You will. You will.”
“But we’ll have to do this the smart way.” He gripped Erik’s arm, making the other
man look at him. “No slip-ups. Nothing sloppy. Nothing weak. If I'm going to do this, if we’re going to do this, it has to be perfect.”
Erik nodded, eyes fixed almost unnervingly on Raoul’s face.
Since it was the least of the immoral acts he had contemplated that night, Raoul leaned up and kissed him.
The gesture was fast and hard on both sides, intense the way a slap in the face is intense. The way a gunshot is intense. It left Raoul’s heart racing.
“And now I need to leave. It's almost nine.”
Raoul nodded, blankly.
“I'll call you tomorrow, alright? From a pay phone, not from my house, of course.”
Raoul nodded again. “And watch what you do, every single minute. We’ll both have to do that from this point on. It's got to be perfect, you understand? Straight down the line.”
With one hand on the door frame, Erik smiled that same enigmatic smile. “Straight down the line.”
And then he was gone.
It wouldn't be until weeks later that Raoul would be able to place the second scent that lingered just under that terribly floral perfume.
It was the smell of death.
4. Seemingly Quite Charitable
Thinking back later on the next week after that evening, Raoul would barely remember it. The whole span of time was just one long blur of anxious waiting, punctuated by two brief phone calls to Erik, from a payphone of course.
On the phone, both men were tense and hurried, running through The Plan rapid-fire, over and over, until either of them could have been woken from a dead sleep to recite it flawlessly-- although of course, neither of them would have told anyone.
The first step was to actually get the insurance policy signed. Raoul spent days going over every legal detail in the book, and there was no way to get the policy without Mrs. Dietrichson signing the document in her own hand. | 2e83ceb0546a48f989271863a37181db | ['e0451ce053c24069bdf36eb88484e6f0'] | “Our pleasure, Mr. Chagny.” Erik came over to stand by him. “Why don't I walk you out?”
“Thanks. Good night, Mrs. Dietrichson.”
She nodded at him, then turned to her husband. “Erik, bring me some soda when you come up, alright?”
“Certainly, Antoinette.” Erik’s voice was smooth and unworried, and he led the way out into the foyer. There, he stopped Raoul with a hand on his arm, and mouthed _wait._
Raoul waited, and they heard Mrs. Dietrichson’s short footsteps tapping up the stairs, presumably to get ready for bed. Somewhere on the second floor, a door closed loudly. Erik turned to Raoul, clutching his arm. “Was that alright, Raoul?”
“Sure.” Raoul chose not to mention his brief moment of indecision.
“She signed it, didn't she?”
“You saw her do it.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “ Yes, of course. Oh, Raoul…!” Wordlessly, Erik clutched his arm tightly, almost painfully.
“Are you alright?”
“I'm relieved.” He could hear the smile, the warmth in Erik’s voice. “You're setting me free, darling.”
The glow of those words followed Raoul all the way to his car-- where it dissipated into confusion, and fear. Through the darkness of the descending spring night, Raoul could see a shadowy figure sitting in the passenger side.
There was someone waiting for him in his car.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I love the Giry women so much.
5. Going My Way
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry this chapter is so short-- there was originally going to be a second scene, but then that scene got so much longer and more complicated than I expected, and, well, it just didn't seem ready to post yet. So, I figured I would just post the scene I did have. Hope you enjoy it!
Raoul slowly pressed down on the door handle, swinging it open and leaning across to see his visitor.
“Hello, Mr. Chagny.” It was Meg Dietrichson, her voice illegibly calm. “I've been waiting for you.”
“Something the matter?”
“I don't know. No. No, nothing’s the matter. I just hoped you could give me a ride down, if you're going my way?”
“And which way would that be?” Raoul asked, hedging. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to make small talk with a teenage girl he was planning to leave an orphan within weeks.
“Down the hill. Down Vermont.”
“Oh, right, Vermont and Franklin.” It was on his way. “Wear your seatbelt.”
She bounced once in her seat, the leather squeaking. “Thank you! That's very sweet, Mr. Chagny!"
“No trouble.” He said, starting the car and resigning himself to the situation. “So, roller skating. You like roller skating?”
Her lips twitched like she was suppressing a smirk. “I can take it or leave it.”
Raoul sighed, understanding. “And tonight you're leaving it?”
After an informatively long pause: “Yes. Yes, I am. But you see…” she wiggled in her seat, turning ungracefully to face him and taking up a confiding air. “...you see, Mr. Chagny, I'm having a pretty tough time at home. My mother doesn't understand anything@, and Erik hates me.”
“Well, that does sound pretty tough, Miss Dietrichson. But I still don't feel right about dropping you off, when your parents won't know where you are. What if I just took you home, and you told your parents that friend of yours was sick, and no one said anything more about it?”
“But I promised to meet her!” Meg said indignantly.
“You just said that you weren't actually meeting her.”
“No, not Cecile Jammes, Lisa Sorelli. She'll be waiting for me! And anyway, I am meeting her at Vermont and Franklin, so it isn't _much_ of a lie.”
Something about the logic there seemed bad, but Raoul didn't really want to spend the night arguing with her. “I don't know, Miss Dietrichson."
“Lisa’s not a bad girl, you know. She used to go to mother’s school--that's how I met her--and she was really talented! She was going to move to New York, and dance on Broadway. She could have, too! But then she had some money trouble, and had to drop out. She lost her job as an usher at a theater, too, for talking back.” Meg laughed softly, affectionately. “She's so hot-headed.”
Well, that wasn't reassuring. “This really doesn't seem like a good idea.”
“But it's not like I'm going downtown to meet a boyfriend; it's just another girl! And she can protect us, too, if there's any trouble.” Meg shook her head. “My mother doesn't want me to see her, but she's just not being fair. It's not Lisa’s fault that she’s had a hard life.”
“Well, I suppose it'll all straighten out in the end.” Raoul said vaguely, turning onto Vermont St. despite his better judgement.
Meg nodded seriously. “Yes, I do hope so.” She glanced out the window. “Oh, this is the corner!”
Raoul stopped the car, and looked out. A tall, slim young woman was silhouetted in the streetlight, with one foot in high stilettos kicked up and back against the lamppost. She looked to be about twenty years old, vaguely Italian, and definitely trouble.
Meg stared out at her friend, a quiet smile softening the sharp angles of her face. “She needs a haircut, doesn't she?
Sometimes, I almost don't know why I--” she cut herself off with a laugh, and leaned over Raoul to honk the horn. “Lisa! Over here, Lisa!”
Lisa Sorelli pushed off of the lamppost and sauntered over to the car, tossing waves of spray-stiffened black hair carelessly out of her face. Raoul knew that if he had a daughter, he would never let her befriend someone who looked like that.
He leaned over and opened Meg’s door for her.
“This is Mr. Chagny, Lisa.”
“Hello, Lisa.” Raoul nodded at her.
Lisa crossed her arms, bellicose from the first word onwards. “The _name_ is Sorelli. Meg, let’s go.”
“Lisa, please. Mr. Chagny gave me a ride over from the house-- he's been very sweet.” |
82a8f3277f544d9da52b152a09019890 | ['e04fd073d0f24b45a88da98923ba971a'] |
Heart's Desire
Tadashi wakes up at a very rude pinch to his shoulder with cold fingers covering his mouth, preemptively stifling his shout. The first thing he sees upon opening his eyes is pale skin and the barest moonlight reflecting off of ashen hair, a figure of silver and ivory in the nearly pitch black room. His paranoid fear of unknown creatures lurking in the dark quells in favour of startled questions at the familiar presence. He snaps his teeth at the hand that has yet to leave his mouth. The hand lifts.
"What are you doing here?" he demands in a harsh whisper. "How did you even get in?" He has yet to give Tsukki this week's password. "Do you know what time it is?" He only manages to blurt out these three questions before the hand returns, harshly clapping over his mouth.
"Shut up and follow me." As always, it is not a request, but an expectation.
Tadashi bites down his annoyance and rises, swiftly covering his pajamas with yesterday’s cloak and stepping into his shoes. He rubs at his eyes before scowling at the silhouette standing impatiently at his door, foot twitching as if it wanted to tap. Tsukki gestures for him to follow.
Tsukki floats through the Slytherin dormitories like he belongs, and, not for the first time, Tadashi wonders vaguely if Tsukki is supposed to be up in that tower of his, surrounded by more bookshelves than people. They say that hatstalls happen when one argues with the Sorting Hat, and Tsukki did sit on that stool for quite a while, longest sorting by far, at least for their year. They come to a stop outside an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, in a distant corner that, judging by the thick accumulation of dust, hasn't seen use in decades, maybe even centuries.
"You shouldn't abuse your privileges like this, Tsukki. You're supposed to be doing the rounds, you know."
Tsukki waves his responsibilities away with an eyeroll, clicking his tongue. "If they're dumb enough to come out three hours after midnight, they're smart enough to not get caught." He turns to Tadashi with a smile that’s normally reserved for when he's aiming a bludger at someone's face.
Tadashi sighs with dread. "What did you do?" The silent "this time" is implied.
"I found something."
Tadashi can't help the overwhelming tide of fondness that swells in his chest at the barely suppressed excitement in that phrase, even it it was for the boy that decided to wake him up at three in the morning to show him some forgotten secret of the castle they lived in.
"Alright then. What is it?"
Tadashi is dragged by his wrist into the room and in front of a mirror. Nonsensical words are engraved in the ornate gold edging that borders the spotless silver-backed glass.
"What do you see?" Tsukki demands, and Tadashi moves his gaze towards the mirror.
Somewhat surprisingly, it doesn't show himself standing with Tsukki in the dusty abandoned classroom. Although, Tadashi does suppose that, despite Tsukki’s undeniable vanity, he probably wouldn't be so excited over a normal mirror.
Instead of his own sleepy face next to Tsukki’s lanky figure, the mirror produces an almost window-like effect, ignoring interior walls and looking out over one of the courtyards, the small square one that their study group tends to meet in, a refuge after Shoyou and Tobio were barred entry from the library after one of their explosive arguments.
On top of one of the stone tables, Hitoka-chan is curled up, back-to-back with Shimizu-senpai, surrounded by parchment, presumably reading over essays. Sitting at the same table, the idiots aren't arguing for once, either. Instead, they're laughing softly with each other, delighted at Tsukki’s sleeping form, lying on a shaded stone bench near the wall. A thin line of silvery drool drips from the corner of a relaxed smile, the source of the pair’s mirth.
At the opposite wall, Sawamura-senpai and Sugawara-senpai look into each other's eyes with all the subtlety of turtledoves, homework discarded in the grass in front of them. Unnoticed by them, Tanaka-senpai and Nishinoya-senpai are pretending to gag, their mouths open in silent laughter, that is, until Ennoshita-senpai arrives to smack them upside their heads. Maintaining his perpetually serene expression, he tells them something, likely to get back to work.
Meanwhile, at the other stone table, Azumane-senpai is meekly offering his help to Kinoshita-senpai and Narita-senpai, who listen attentively, quills held at ready. Other than Hitoka-chan and Shimizu-senpai, they are, unsurprisingly, the only ones being productive.
Tadashi stares until Tsukki taps his shoulder for attention.
"I see everyone," he says without looking away. "The study group, we're just doing what we usually do."
"What are _we_ doing?" Tsukki's tone turns the question into a demand.
Tsukki in the mirror hasn't moved, still slumbering peacefully with a smile Tadashi hasn't seen since just before they were sorted, just before Tsukki saw Aki-nii sitting at the Hufflepuff table.
"You're taking a nap."
"And you?"
Tadashi starts. Where is he in the mirror? He looks over the scene again, more carefully. Tadashi... Tadashi is nowhere to be found.
"I'm not there."
Beside him, Tsukki freezes. "You're not there?"
"Am I supposed to be?"
"Yamaguchi," Tsukki says slowly, "this is the Mirror of Erised."
Tadashi blanks at the name of this artifact, though it does sound somewhat familiar. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
Tsukki sighs. "Erised, it's 'desire' spelt backwards." He grabs Tadashi's hand and points it along the inscription, only from right to left. "I show not your face but your heart's desire."
"That does sound a bit familiar..."
"I wrote an essay about it in third year for Ancient Runes. You looked it over." Tsukki tone is accusing, but his hand flaps in dismissal. "The point is, why are you not present in your 'heart's desire'?"
Tadashi smiles patiently. "I don't see your point, Tsukki. So what if I'm not in it?" | 167f286101494224b052c3d141a80de0 | ['e04fd073d0f24b45a88da98923ba971a'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> For LINK
>
> I hope you like it~~
>
> (also if you have an AO3 account please tell me so I can properly add your name to the work~)
Tadashi doesn’t join the volleyball club in university. It’ll be too time consuming, he reasons. He’s here to study. He won’t let himself get accepted to an imperial university just to wash out in the first year, so, instead, he lets himself get dragged to the chemistry club by his lab partner, Hoshirou.
Chemistry club is nice. It’s calm. They meet up for food and homework help more often than anything else. It’s certainly a change of pace from Karasuno’s volleyball team, and Tadashi likes it. Of course he does. Competition has always worn out his nerves. He’s much more suited to this environment.
On the first Wednesday of May, they meet in a crowded ramen place a block away from the main campus. Hoshirou introduces someone new to them, Kunimi Akira. Kunimi wears subdued khaki pants and a pale button down shirt. It stands out in its plainness.
“Karasuno’s captain, right?” Kunimi asks when he’s sat beside Tadashi. It’s a question that doesn’t expect an answer. “I would have expected you to join the volleyball club.”
Tadashi ducks his head a little, scratching at the base of his neck. “I thought classes and homework would be more time consuming. Volleyball practice takes up so much time.”
Kunimi hums.
“What about you? Weren’t you captain last year, too?” Tadashi winces a little.
Kunimi cracks a smile at the hypocrisy in that question. “Volleyball isn’t all that important in the end, no? We both quit to study for university during the spring tournament.”
“You’re better at volleyball though. It wouldn’t be as time consuming for you.”
Kunimi turns to look at him, look through him. Carefully, he shrugs.
Tadashi shrinks. He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I overstep.” He eats some more noodles. “Oh, what program are you in? I’m in science, chemistry.”
“Engineering, architecture.”
“How did you find the chemistry club, then?”
“Akimaru-kun found out I hadn’t joined any clubs yet.”
Tadashi winces. Hoshirou is…
“Oi, you’re talking about me?” Akimaru Hoshirou is very loud and very passionate about chemistry. He also has amazing hearing, apparently. “Ah, Akira, are you telling Tadashi about the mixer?”
“Why would I? I’m not even going?”
“But you should! Your high school senpai will be there, too.” Hoshirou gets up and squeezes himself between Tadashi and Kunimi.
“Oikawa? If he’s there then I’m definitely not going.”
“Akira~” Hoshirou whines.
“Don’t call me that.”
Hoshirou clicks his tongue. “Tsundere.” He lays an arm across Tadashi’s shoulder. “What about you, Tadashi? You’re single, right?”
Tadashi frowns a little. “Yes.” Is it that obvious?
“Really? You should come then! Three more girls confirmed after Tooru decided he’d come. We’re not very balanced for gender now.”
“Oh, um. Alright,” Tadashi says.
“Great! It’s Friday at the gyouza place two doors down from the Watami near campus. Show up before six and you’ll be fine.”
Tadashi makes a show of entering the information into his phone.
“We still need another guy, Akira~”
“Stop calling me that, and I’ll _maybe_ consider it.”
“Great!” Hoshirou stands up, jostling the table and spilling some broth from his bowl. “See you there!”
* * *
To: Tsukki
20:38
So I got invited to a mixer. Oikawa will be there apparently.
From: Tsukki
20:40
ww good luck finding a girl
To: Tsukki
20: 41
( ¬_¬) Are you up early or up late?
From: Tsukki
20:41
wouldn’t you like to know
From: Tsukki
20:41
seriously though are you sure you want to go when Oikawa will be there
To: Tsukki
20:42
I mean, it’s not like I can cancel at this point, right? And Kunimi, the one from Seijou, told me he’d see me there and I think that’s translation for “I will kill you if you ditch me.”
From: Tsukki
20:42
ehhh Kunimi is at Touhoku? didn’t think he was smart enough
To: Tsukki
20:42
Don’t be rude Tsukki.
From: Tsukki
20:42
rude? me? never
To: Tsukki
20:42
( ¬_¬)
From: Tsukki
20:44
alright I need to nap before class
To: Tsukki
20:44
Tsukki!!! Don’t stay up late on school nights!
From: Tsukki
20:44
you’re too loud. my first class isn’t even until noon
To: Tsukki
20:45
It’s almost five!
To: Tsukki
20:47
I hope the reason you’re not responding is because you’re sleeping.
* * *
From: Kunimi Akira
13:10
Do you want to walk to the mixer together
To: Kunimi Akira
13:17
Sure! Meet at 1730 outside the station?
From: Kunimi Akira
13:48
You know how to get there
To: Kunimi Akira
13:50
Yes.
From: Kunimi Akira
13:50
Ill be following you then
* * *
Tadashi arrives at Itsutsubashi Station at five thirty exactly to find Kunimi sitting on a bench by the entrance. “Sorry I’m late,” he says.
Kunimi looks up from his phone. “You’re not.”
Tadashi looks at all the people standing, then back down at Kunimi’s seat.
Kunimi reassures, “I haven’t been waiting long.” He stands up. “Lead the way.”
Tadashi smiles and ducks his head a little. He gestures for Kunimi to follow and turns towards the intersection. “How was your day?”
“Not much happened.”
“Ah,” Tadashi says. He flounders for a better response as they cross the street. “Are you liking your classes so far?”
“They’re alright.”
“It’s a pretty big change from high school, right? I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.”
Kunimi just hums.
“It’s right around the corner here,” Tadashi says.
“Thank you for showing the way.”
“It was no trouble at all.” Tadashi flashes a smile and holds open the door.
Kunimi walks in.
“Akira!” Hoshirou greets, practically bouncing in place.
Kunimi almost backs into Tadashi. “I said I’d only come if you stopped calling me that.” |
702b2342d3774f4dbb441386882d4c0c | ['e075657872b4454eafab88b08df3988c'] |
Cuddles and Cramps
“Darling, is there a reason for your intense hatred of toast this morning?” Draco asked with concern in his voice. He knew she had a heavy load at work, but he hadn’t thought it was reaching the point where he needed to remind her she had assistants and coworkers to carry part of the load yet. “Is your tea cold already?”
Hermione moaned and put her head in her hands. “Just cramps. They’re always the worst on the first day.”
“Oh, right. Is there anything I can do for you?” Draco offered immediately and upon thinking further added, “fill up your hot water muggle smelly thing?”
Hermione laughed good naturedly and nodded without dragging up the old argument about hot water bottles being called bottles. “That would be nice, I always forget they exist for some reason.”
Draco stood up and gave Hermione a kiss on the head before leaving to go attend to his task. While he was gone Hermione moved from the breakfast table to the couch and wrapped a blanket around herself before lying down.
It wasn’t long before Draco was back with the hot water bottle and one of Hermione’s favorite chocolate bars as well. He offered her the hot water bottle which she placed between her back and the back of the sofa. He knelt on the ground beside her and propped his elbows on the sofa cushions. “I brought you some chocolate. I hate it when you feel like this, I wish there was more I could do.”
Hermione smiled at him and then kissed him. “Why don’t you jump up here with me and let me hold you?”
“You want to be the big spoon?”
“Of course! I have an incredibly sweet and understanding boyfriend and I want to hold him as close as I can.”
“Can't argue with you there,” Draco laid down in front of her on the large sofa and adjusted slightly and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. They didn’t do this every month, but typically she was at work all day on the first day of her period. He knew better than to suggest that she take the day off every month, so he was just glad to have the opportunity to make her feel a bit better from time to time.
“Haven’t you found anything in your research that could alleviate the pain better?”
“No, everything I’ve found was theoretical and seemed too risky given the delicate nature of the human reproductive system. The balance of hormones and organs to take into account varying so much between individuals makes it very risky to use magic to alter. You might remove your pain and your fertility all in one swoop.”
“That’s rubbish. You were telling me about the advanced knowledge muggles have about the body just yesterday, surely with that kind of knowledge something could be done.”
“Well, it’s not as if they have perfected it themselves. It’s all tied in with misogyny and politics if you ask me, but even muggle birth control is full of risky side effects in addition to not being one hundred percent effective.”
They lay in contented silence for a while just listening to the sounds of the clock on the mantle and of the wind against the window pains.
“You’ve never told me what your Mom used to do. Didn’t she have any tricks?”
Draco started laughing uncontrollably at the idea of his mother ever discussing anything to do with a single bodily function with him, let alone her period. “Hermione, the closest I got to knowing that she even had a menstrual cycle was realizing that her trips to the spa happened at the same time every month.” He kept laughing while talking as if the realization had been an entire episode of his life.
Hugging Draco a bit tighter to him Hermione laughed softly into his shoulder. “What’s so funny about a spa trip?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just, the way I finally realized it was after that wonky lesson Snape gave us on werewolves in third year. Do you remember that? Professor Lupin was out sick so Snape filled in and ignored what we had been studying to go on and on about werewolves. After that I began to notice things that happened with monthly regularity and I noticed my mother in particular had a habit of disappearing for several days each month. The first two months after that it happened to more or less coincide with the full moon, too.”
Hermione and Draco were both laughing loudly at this point, Draco holding his stomach starting to feel cramps of his own from laughing too hard.
“Oh, Draco! Only a boy could think their mother being a werewolf was a more likely scenario than menstruating!”
“I know, but to be fair the female reproductive system had never even been taught to me at that point. All I knew was out of an old text I found in the library at Malfoy Manor on fertility. Prodigious Progeny or something like that. It had the most gruesome description of sex and I really don’t want to think about how the author learned some of the tips suggested.”
“Good lord, purebloods have had trouble with fertility for ages, I wonder if it could be down to misinformation? I’ve never really thought about how your lot got its sex education.” Hermione seemed deep in thought about the issue of pureblood reproductive education for a few moments before continuing. “The Weasley’s just took their kids around the area farms and suggested that they might want to be careful with what they got up to unless they wanted a litter of their own, then taught them about contraception and the spectrum of human sexuality. Ginny never skipped her birth control potion after seeing those pregnant cows.” | 442952ee647f453ab58c5c5f17470553 | ['e075657872b4454eafab88b08df3988c'] | Every Flavour Cake
"I can't believe you're actually making a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean birthday cake for Ginny," Draco said interrupting her thoughts. "All it will take is one bad flavored bean bursting and overpowering all the others and then –"
"Yes, I know, I know you think all cakes should have a certain flavor chosen on purpose – I just don't see it that way!" Hermione was carefully measuring the amount of flour that should be added next. "Anyway, no one is forcing you to eat it!"
"Well, somebody IS forcing me to go to the blasted party. Do you think it is easy to refuse to eat cake in front of a mob of Weasleys?" Secretly Draco also thought that having cake at the ready was a great way to get out of answering questions Molly or Percy asked him that he'd rather avoid. It was an old trick his mother had used during long dinners with boring dignitaries she didn't like.
"Draco, I'm not forcing you to go. Stay home, go to the Leaky Cauldron, play quidditch with Blaise – whatever you like. Just don't complain about the cake if you do come." Hermione blew a stray piece of hair back as the charmed wooden spoon stirred the batter together carefully. "I know you think I shouldn't go around the Weasleys unsupervised for some unknown reason, but that doesn't give you the right to dictate my culinary choices."
Draco pinched his nose, trying to think of a tactful answer. It wasn't that the Weasleys bothered him so much anymore, though it was kind of unnerving to be around so many gingers all at once. He just thought they were a bit high energy for Hermione right now.
"Okay, dear, can we make a compromise on this? Half the cake can be riddled with who knows what flavor and the other half just a plain vanilla? Most of the people at the party won't be nine months pregnant and craving a different flavor cake with each mouthful." He walked up behind her and hugged her middle, fondly rubbing her extended belly. "Besides, you know I just can't stand the thought of you going into labor without me, and Ferret or Scarhead seeing my first born son OW! Or my daughter, before me. Stop kicking me!"
"I'll stop kicking when you stop saying the baby is going to be a boy every time you talk about him or her. I knew we shouldn't have avoided learning the baby's sex. The only compromise I'm willing to make is to let you do your sorting spell on the beans before I add them to get rid of the ones you hate."
Draco beamed at her, satisfied to broker even a small compromise. Ginny had threatened to hex him if he didn't figure out a way to remove the vomit and poo flavored beans at a minimum and she was the second scariest witch he knew after his radiant wife.
"Thanks, darling. You're wonderful!" He said before giving her a kiss behind her ear.
"Oh, really, stop trying to butter me up. I'm not going to let you name any child of mine Corvus or Fornax." She turned around and kissed him on his nose. "You'll just have to find a different constellation that sounds better if you want to keep the silly tradition." |
5c144f291ead470cbfd8d36b7acc48bc | ['e095ab7144574b9a86e84a3b155ea94a'] | Flourishing
Albus hummed to himself mindlessly, lost in his thoughts, as he meandered through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. He was stuck so deeply in his thoughts that he completely forgot that he was looking for a certain someone, didn’t notice that certain someone when he finally came across him, and walked directly into that certain someone’s back. A squeak of surprise escaped his throat as he quickly stepped away, recognising the coat as his boyfriend’s.
“Newt?”
Newt was stuck in his thoughts as well and didn’t even hear Albus.
“Newt, love?” Albus repeated, concern rising in his chest as he walked around Newt to try and see what had him so distracted. He was reading the Daily Prophet, and had stopped turning the pages to stare down at one particular page in shock. Albus tried to crane his neck to look at the page, but the angle Newt was holding it at meant Albus’ 5’10” couldn’t quite get a glimpse.
“Newt, love, talk to me.” Albus spoke again, his concern growing until he could feel the worry in his throat. Newt finally seemed to notice him, as he looked up at him, speechless.
“What happened?” Albus asked, becoming slightly panicked by the shock Newt was showing.
“Look.” Newt murmured, unable to speak much more in emotion as he passed Albus the newspaper. As Albus looked over the page, Newt slowly sunk down onto a bench by the wall, and Albus noticed he was actually trembling.
Albus looked at the newspaper page again, and suddenly realised what the boxes of text all were.
“Book reviews?” He frowned. He squinted a bit—he needed to get himself some new glasses, he kept on forgetting when he was in Hogsmeade—and made out the 7 words at the top of each review that tied them all together.
“Are these all reviews for your book?” He asked Newt, unable to believe how many of them the Daily Prophet had printed. There was at least 30.
Newt nodded soundlessly, a wide smile slowly growing on his face.
“These are all rated 4 or 5 starts out of 5!” Albus exclaimed, delighted. “Newt! This is amazing!”
“I can’t quite believe it.” Newt stated weakly. “No-one expected my book to do well, least of all me, and now?” He gestured at the newspaper helplessly.
“People are finally realising how wonderful you are! Your book’s popularity is flourishing! Soon you’ll be far more famous than me!” Albus exclaimed, absolutely over-the-moon for Newt. “Oh, love, I’m so proud of you!” He abandoned the newspaper to pull Newt to his feet and cover him in kisses, beaming from ear to ear.
“I can’t believe it...” Newt repeated, still not able to process the admiration for and success of his book.
“I’m so unbelievably proud of you, Newt!” Albus was literally vibrating in excitement. “My future husband, a celebrity! I’m not going to be able to stop boasting about it for you for months! How can we celebrate, what about I make you a cake? No, it wouldn’t be edible knowing my baking skills, I’ll go and ask the house elves to make you a cake!” He pressed a passionate kiss to Newt’s lips, too distracted to notice that he’d called Newt his future husband, before rushing down the corridor again towards the kitchens, rambling to himself the whole way.
Newt hadn’t missed Albus’ slip-up, and his smile softened as he watched Albus leave, far more excited for Newt than Newt was. His fingers found a small velvet box he’d been hiding in his pocket for weeks. The cake the house-elves were apparently going to make would go wonderfully with the fancy dinner Newt was going to cook that evening, and cake would be a perfect way to celebrate not only the success of Newt’s book but also their engagement. After Albus’ slip-up, Newt had no doubts that Albus would say yes.
Newt couldn’t remember ever being so happy as he slowly started following Albus towards the kitchens. Their future was bright, and Newt loved it. | 87ee9350a2594dfa9542a5efd7a2cac7 | ['e095ab7144574b9a86e84a3b155ea94a'] | There’s a first time for everything
Percival’s revered as the ultimate Agent, and he knows he’s more than a bit of a playboy but quite likes his status and refuses to change. He’s never fallen in love before, only ever felt lust or had a few crushes in his younger years.
Enter Newton Scamander, the new Quartermaster and the (until now, unknown) brother of Percival’s partner, Theseus. They meet when Newt stands beside him to observe the painting of the ship and Percival sets eyes on him and instantly feels very strong attraction for the incredibly pretty young man and, of course, starts flirting with him outrageously. Much to his confusion, the other man doesn’t bat an eyelash and simply introduces himself as Percival’s new Q. Percival’s only reaction is glee that he’ll have longer to seduce the pretty man into his bed - he even considers the man so pretty he might even be persuaded to have a two- or three-night-stand.
Of course, because he’s an absolute virgin when it comes to Feelings Feelings, he doesn’t even pause to consider the way his stomach starts to backflip and his heart lightens as he spends more time flirting with his new Q, and merely puts it down to having to wait far longer than normal to get the man in his bed.
Newt remains unaffected, much to Percival’s frustration, and Percival only briefly wonders why he cares so much about getting Newt in his bed but brushes it off to never having seen a prettier man. He’s such a feelings-virgin.
He is absolutely confused when the highly amused Theseus mentions that he approves, because he’s never seen Percival acting like this before. Everyone around him apart from Percival himself and Newt can clearly see that their beloved 007 is falling, and falling hard, for the newest Quartermaster, and Percival’s utterly unaware that his desperate pining is the victim of many a chuckle between the other MI6 employees. The poor pining bastard.
Four years later, the newest employees are making fun of Q for being so much younger than them and for his lack of looks (only Percival has ever seen Newt as breathtakingly beautiful, even Theseus has to admit that Newt is hardly the most good-looking guy out there - hell, Theseus himself is currently Number 3 on the Good-Looking MI6 Agents chart and Newt isn’t even on it).
Q merely ignores them, he’s used to it, and sips his tea delicately as he absentmindedly hacks into seventeen different global companies at once, all of them with at least 40 layers of top-level security, as well as cooing over his newest addition to his unusual pets collection - Dougal, a baby white gorilla.
Just then, the door opens and the newest additions to MI6 gasp in hero-worshipping awe.
“007.” Q greets the man. “Have any of my pieces of expensive, near-irreplacable equipment survived your latest mission?”
007 - #1 on the Good-Looking MI6 Agents chart for nearly 10 years running - smirks, basking in the attention and hero-worshipping gazes from everyone as he strides across the room towards them.
“Don’t I get a welcome home kiss?” He teases Q as he drops exactly five pieces of unblemished equiptment on the desk in front of Q. Q is the only reason 007 actually makes a real effort to bring back his equiptment unharmed now, he knows how much work goes into them and how frustrated Q is when his hard work is ruined.
“I don’t know, go ask the newest employees, they’d pay a million quid for the great honour I assure.” Q responds dryly, jerking his head towards the employees who had previously been making fun of him.
007 snorts as he lounges against the side of Q’s desk, watching him.
“The me of 4 years ago may have gone with your suggestion, but married men don’t give their lips to people other than their spouses.” He retorts, ignoring the newest employees’ jaws dropping at the news the playboy 007 was married.
“Especially when they were only married one glorious month ago and only got back from their honeymoon five days ago. I haven’t kissed my new husband for 98 hours, would you care to remedy that?”
Q chuckles.
“If I must.”
He stands up, Dougal in his arms, and steps forwards to touch a surprisingly tender (and VERY unchaste) kiss to 007’s very willing lips.
“Welcome home, Mr Scamander-Graves.”
“And what a welcome this is, Mr Scamander-Graves.” 007 murmurs back as he draws his precious husband into a second kiss, both of them ignoring everyone around them. Yeah, so they were in public - at work, specifically - but they were only married 34 and a half days ago. They were allowed to be affectionate.
“Lips off my brother, Graves!” Comes Theseus’ playful yell from the doorway.
“My husband! Shut it, asshole, he’s mine now!” Percival retorts with a grin as he pulls away from Newt for a brief moment. Newt laughs, and Percival’s heart swells three times it’s size as he gazes in soppy adoration at his husband, before kissing Newt’s nose and relaxing blissfully into his husband’s warmth, uncaring of anything but Newt’s beautifully melodious laugh around him.
**Author's Note:**
> Link to my Tumblr: https://myarmadaisgrowing.tumblr.com/
>
> Link to the original post: https://myarmadaisgrowing.tumblr.com/post/171454930095/so-im-listening-to-skyfall-by-adele-the-theme
>
> I hope you enjoyed! |
ea5fbc60ddc74a6c96d94b8772d9ac72 | ['e09b1b8a5e62469984669a7b6ae0d1d1'] | Biana stood up, holding a purple leaping crystal. "We just have a quick stop to make. We're picking up Linh and Tam. I talked to them over Imparter and they want to help." Keefe put on a goofy grin. "Great, I get to annoy Bangs Boy again! It's been too long." Fitz rolled his eyes. Biana lifted the purple crystal and leapt them to the headquarters of the Black Swan.
5. The Twins
The Keepers arrived at Tam and Linh's treehouse. Biana knocked on the door, and Linh answered. "What's up, Bi?" Then she saw the others and sighed. "What's wrong this time?" Fitz stepped forward. "Councillor Bronte's Cache was stolen inRavagog, and when we tried to visit him, we found traces of melder blasts and he was nowhere to be found." Tam walked up behind Linh. "So, why are you here? There's nothing we can do." Keefe chuckled. "Bangs Boy, we are the Sophie Foster Gang. We have saved the elves from the Neverseen more times than I can count. You can definitely do something."
Sophie interjected. "Tam, are you and Linh willing to comr with us to Ravagog to find Bronte and the Cache?" Tam was silent for a few seconds until Linh dropped a sphere of water on him. "Of course we'll help. Just need to pack some clothes." The twins went inside and came out about five mintues later. "Let's go." Tam said grumpily. Dex held up the black crystal to Ravagog, just as Mr. Forkle came into view. He shouted, but the teenagers had already vanished.
6. Ravagog
The group arrived quickly in the ogre city, and Fitz pushed everyone into an alleyway. "Okay, everyone. If we're not careful, we could all get killed. We need to find the Cache. That's our first priority. After we bring the Cache to Everglen we can look for Bronte."
Sophie nodded, her blond hair bouncing. "Sounds like a good plan to me. We should start in the most obvious place. The palace." Dex nodded. "I've modified an Obscurer to cover us all." "It doesn't have to cover us all…" Tam said, withdrawling into his shadows. Linh smacked him. "You're not impressing anyone. Stop the mysterious stuff."
Dex turned on the Obscurer and the group moved quietly through the streets of the foreign city. They eventually reached the palace gate. "Great." Biana said, frowning at the enourmous padlock. Dex grinned at her and started trying to pick the lock. All of the sudden, three figures in black approached. They were holding shining weapons. _Melders._ As they got nearer, Sophie saw the white eye symbols engraved on their cloaks.
**A/N: Sorry about the short chapter; more tomorrow.**
7. A/N
Hi! Thanks for reading this. Just wanted to say, I'm pretty sure this is a waste of time. Should I continue, or is it just not worth the 8 people who read it? Please comment or give Kudos!
8. Melding
Fitz slowly pulled out a Melder. "You get inside, I'll take care of these guys." Biana snorted and shook her head. "No way. We stay together." Sophie nodded. "Besides, we need to capture them, not kill them. If we can bring even one to the Black Swan, they can do a memory break on him." One of the Neverseen pulled back his hood. It was Alvar. Fitz aimed his Melder and glared. "Oh, please." Alvar smirked. "We both know you don't have the guts to do this. You'll break your own mind." Sophie pushed down the Melder in Fitz's hands. "What do you want?" she asked Alvar coldly. "Simple. I assumed you knew the goal of the Neverseen." Keefe shrunk back. One of the Neverseen gestured widely to him. "Ah, there's the little spy. Get him." It was Fintan. Alvar walked toward Keefe, clearly intent on taking him prisoner. _Use your Inflicting_ Fitz transmitted to Sophie. _Good idea_ she thought back. She focused all her anger at Alvar and pulled on the knot of emotions under her ribs. All of the sudden, a force field flashed around him. Alvar smirked at Sophie's concentration. "Oh, please. You think I wouldn't bring Ruy?" The third Neverseen member nodded and morphed the force field until it contained only Alvar and Keefe. Alvar vanished and quickly reappeared, his arms around Keefe. Grunting, he pulled Keefe away holding the Melder to his head. "You even _try_ to Inflict on me, I'll fire the Melder." he told Sophie. Dex quietly tapped a button on his watch, and looked with pleading eyes at her. Sophie quickly entered his mind. _I disabled all the tech near us. That Melder is useless._ he thought. _Thanks_ Sophie said, and immediately began her Inflicting. Alvar keeled over in pain. "Now" he wheezed at Fintan. Fintan threw a ball of flame at the gate to Ravagog. It exploded, and they all saw what it really was.
_Everblaze._
9. Everblaze
The Everblaze flickered up the gate and it began to melt. The three Neverseen leaped away, and Sophie, Fitz, Biana, Dex, Keefe, Linh, and Tam were left with the melting gate. Over the roar of the flames, Fitz yelled, "We need to get to Eternalia! We need Frissyn!" Sophie nodded and pointed to a cliff in the distance. As the Keepers were running towards the cliff, the gate collapsed in an explosion of Everblaze. When they reached the edge of the cliff, Sophie warned them: "I've never teleported this many people before. It may be a bumpy ride." Keefe smirked. "Foster, we're jumping off of a cliff. Of course it's going to be a bumpy rider. Fitz glared. _Not the time, Keefe_ he spoke into Keefe's mind. Everyone held the hand of the person beside them, and they jumped. With a crack of thunder, the Keepers slipped into the void. | f78e676b33b54c4793d0de2bf979a96f | ['e09b1b8a5e62469984669a7b6ae0d1d1'] | They arrived in Eternalia, and Sophie pointed to the pink mansion. "Oralie will believe us and she'll act quickly." They hurried to the house , and Sophie knocked. The soft-spoken Councillor opened the door, and when she saw all of the teenagers, she sighed. "What can I do for you?" Fitz spoke up. "We were on our way to Ravagog-" Oralie interrupted. "Why exactly were you going to the ogre city?" Sophie looked around frantically, but Tam said, "we were on a mission from the Black Swan." Oralie nodded. "Continue." "Well, the Neverseen ambushed us while we were trying to get past the gate." Fitz explained. "Fintan Pyren set the wall on fire with Everblaze, and we need Frissyn to put it out." Oralie stood, and led the group to a locked door. She pulled out a key and entered. A few seconds later, she came back out with a tube of silver powder. "Here." she said, handing the container to Sophie. "Go quickly. The elves are the only ones capable of creating Everblaze. If their city burns, it will cause a war."
Biana removed the leaping crystal to Ravagog out of her pocket. The others nodded, and they leaped back. The gate was fully melted and the edge of the city was burning as well. Sophie turned to her friends. "We need to use telekinesis to spread the Frissyn on the Everblaze." She quickly opened the tube and poured a small amount of the substance into each person's hands. Sophie started, and everyone else followed: they lifted the powder with their minds and gently dropped pinches over the Everblaze. Eventually, it was done. Sophie sighed. The Neveseen had gotten away and they had burned down the gate to the city of the ogres. "We need to go." she told the others. "Dimitar could be here any second, and we can't be seen here." Keefe grinned. "Ah, we can fight old iron-diaper!" Sophie nearly smacked him. "No, Keefe. He's an ogre. Besides, we have no reason to be here anyway." "Well, actually-" Dex began. "Nope." Sophie stopped him. "We've caused enough trouble already. We'll come back tomorrow." "If I'm not grounded..." Fitz muttered. "Eh, when has that ever stopped us before?" Keefe said. They each pulled out their home crystals and leaped away. None noticed a small figure walk out of the alleyway.
10. The Blackbird [AO3 Exclusive]
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This is a chapter that is only available on AO3, not any other fanfic platform. The fic is still readable on Wattpad without this chapter.
_The Black Swan made the Moonlark. The Neverseen had to retaliate. I was the result. My name is Vanna, and I’m a manifesting ogre. The Neverseen tweaked my genes just like they did Sophie Foster’s. I’m a Vanisher, a Pyrokinetic, and a Telepath. I’m designed for spying and attacking, but that’s not what I want to do. Now I’ve seen the Moonlark and her friends, I want to be like them. Good. Kind. Not deceitful and suspicious like I was intended to be. The Neverseen named me the Blackbird, and I was a weapon._
_Not anymore. I’m going to help the Moonlark and her friends retrieve the Cache, even if I die in the process._
_This isn't what I was meant for._
_But this is what I will do._
_I was always made to be a short-term advantage to the Neverseen. My lifespan was dramatically shortened, so I will only live until my 15th birthday._
_I’m 14, and my birthday is in three days._
_This will be my legacy._
_Because I am the Blackbird._
**AN: Dramatic, right?**
11. Home
Grady was waiting at the door with a look on his face. _The_ look. "Sophie Elizabeth Foster, you are grounded." Sophie sighed. "Yeah, I thought so." Grady shook his head. "What were you thinking, running away to an ogre city!? You could have been attacked by the Neverseen! And you put all of your other friends in danger!" Sophie pulled on her eyelashes. "Well, it wasn't really my idea..." she trailed off. "Oh? Whose was it?" Grady asked furiously. "Biana and Ke-" "THAT BOY IS RESPONSIBLE!" yelled Grady, running into the house to the Leapmaster. Sophie walked inside the house to see Edaline making mallowmelt. "Please don't let Grady kill Keefe" Sophie pleaded to her mother. Edaline shook her head. "You should have just said Biana. No stopping him now." She sighed and walked up the stairs to her room. Laying on her bed, she picked up her Imparter. "Show me Fitz Vacker." In a second, Fitz's teal eyes came on screen. "Hey Soph." he said. "You grounded too?" She nodded. "Yep, and Grady's after Keefe." Fitz smacked himself in the face. "Great. Well, let's just hope he isn't at Candleshade." Sophie nodded. "Wait just a sec, Soph. I think I can do group calls on my new Imparter." A few seconds later, Keefe joined the call.
12. Candleshade
**A/N: I just realized that Keefe doesn’t live at Candleshade, he lives at the Shores of Solace. So, let’s just pretend that this is sometime in between Lodestar and Nightfall.**
Keefe shimmered into Candleshade. His father, Lord Cassius, was standing at the door with a scowl on his face. "You realize you're going to get killed someday." Keefe's tone was sharp as he said, "Yep. But I don't really care." He stepped into the vortinator and zoomed up to his room. A few minutes later, he heard his Imparter ring. He sighed and picked it up. It was Foster and the Fitzter. He mussed up his hair, put on his signature smirk, and tapped the screen. "Hey, Foster. Just can't get enough of me, can you?" Sophie frowned. "I wanted to warn you. Grady is on his way, and he's super mad because he thinks you came up with the idea to go to Ravagog." Keefe's smirk fell. "Uhh, you said _Grady's_ after me? Okay, I've got to go-"
Grady opened the door. |
b7aac391bf944740a41e9d328370d3b6 | ['e0a34978f7264b9f8f2d3ee3b4322e13'] | 1. Mud.
White Choco thought that the castle’s training grounds had grown a lot more crowded since she started training. It was likely because of her ever-growing crowd of fangirls, who would trickle to the courtyard every day to watch her train.
Train? No, Perform.
Training was a performance. She lived to feel her blade arc through the air with precision. To hit her targets with precision, perfectly timed to Pocket Watch’s tick, tick, tick. To hear the gaggle ooh in admiration. To execute whatever moves she wished to do that day. To occasionally wink at one of the girls and see how red they turned.
Today was different. It was rainy-no, perhaps a deluge was a better description-and not a single fan had turned up today.
Which was fine, really! Pocket Watch had been nagging her to care less about the crowd, and really, he was right. White was starting to deviate from the true purpose of her training.
Then she felt eyes on the back of her head. She turned, mid-leap, to better glance at who it was and promptly froze.
The captain of the guard was staring from the guard tower, seemingly enraptured in White’s movements. She looked pretty red, but given how far away White was, that might have just been a trick of the light.
Their eyes met for the briefest moment, then the captain shook herself out of her stupor and turned away.
White didn’t do the same in time, however, and fell flat onto her face.
In the mud.
Fuck.
2. Fight the First.
A few days after the (quite frankly, embarrassing,) mud incident, White Choco decided to spar with the guards.
“It’s simple,” she said, scratching a ring into the dirt with her rapier. “Lets fight.” Pocket Watch probably screeched in distress somewhere in the background, but she was having too much fun to care. There were rules, obviously, but they boiled down to “no maiming, killing, nor punching the no-no squares.”
The other guards were pretty simple, albeit fun, to fight. There was this one guy, Knight, (how basic could he have made his name? Fucking idiot) who apparently took it on himself to be as much of a cocky, self-assured idiot as possible. She beat him, naturally.
And then, the captain of the guard stepped into the ring.
She knew from the start that this was going to be a fun fight. The instant the captain got into the ring, she settled into a well-practiced position, shield blocking most of her body and spear ready to flow into a defensive position.
So the captain was a defensive fighter-
It was at this moment that the captain’s spear flashed out from behind her shield. White thanked Moonlight for her reflexes, for as blunt as the spear was, it would absolutely suck to take that to her shoulder.
The captain of the guard smirked, a knowing gesture, and White Choco prayed to Moonlight that the redness of her face could be passed off as exertion.
White probed the captain’s weaknesses with her rapier, only to have it glance off of her shoulder, neck, and hip.
This was mostly due to how armored the captain was. Helmet, chestplate, hip guards, greaves, she had it all. The only way to become even more armoured would be to simply don a whole set of plate armor.
While White admired the captain’s strength, this also meant that she either had to spend time probing the armor for weaknesses or resort to more...unorthodox methods. Unorthodox methods were more fun, so unorthodox it was.
She slid out of the way of a spear thrust, planning. It was a good idea to bait the captain a little, a feint here, a parry there. She was waiting for an opening.
There.
With a grunt, the captain had stepped a little too far, the physical exertion taking its toll. White quickly dropped to her feet and spun around with one leg out. She wasn’t the biggest fan of resorting to martial arts, but they were handy.
Her boot made contact with the inside of the captain’s knee, forcing the leg to buckle and causing her to stagger. White quickly seized the opportunity and placed her rapier’s tip at the captain’s neck.
“I win,” she said, barely keep the grin off her face. The captain merely huffed goodnaturedly, perhaps a little embarrassed at her mistake.
“Good battle though,” White said, extending an arm to help the captain up, “Miss…?”
“Captain of the Guard, Pistachio Cookie," the other grabbed the offered arm and hauled herself up.
"Well fought," Pistachio said a bit ruefully. "And you are...?"
This time, White simply didn't fight the grin that made its way onto her face. "White. White Cacao Cookie."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hehe fight time
>
> u have no. idea how much I wanted to just make white wink at pistachio and lose all her fucking cool
**Author's Note:**
> guess who's sleepy as fuck and wrote this mostly on a sugar high?
> me
> don't be like Salt kids actually do shit | c255b9359d6344c3963770a673e74656 | ['e0a34978f7264b9f8f2d3ee3b4322e13'] | Archive Visit
Herrah hated the Fog Canyons.
Deepnest’s dry, dusty tunnels made her ill-suited to crawling through the humid canyons. Moreover, it was almost impossible for someone of her size to avoid the acid puddles. Don’t even get her started on the exploding eggs. They severely tempted her to drive her nail into all the uomas and oomas she saw.
Then again, this was Monomon’s design. Which made sense. The Teacher was easily the most reclusive person she knew-trying to visit her was like trying to catch a menderbug at their job.
A drop of acid on her leg soon broke Herrah out of her thoughts, and she hissed in irritation. Luckily, the entrance to the Archives was already open.
Monomon’s apprentice greeted her as soon as she skittered into the building.
“Ah! Lady Herrah! Monomon is-”
“Yes, I know,” she snapped, a little bit harder than she meant to. The apprentice visibly wilt, so she softened a bit.
“Apologies,” she amended, still a little irritable. “I know my way. Thank you, though.”
She quickly brushed past the apprentice, making her way up the platforms.
...She really needed to talk to Monomon about making the archives more accessible. Herrah’s body was absolutely NOT suited for the platforms and she did NOT enjoy having most of her body dangle off of them. Try as she might, all she could really do was position all six of her legs on a platform twice the size of her mask.
Giggling drew her attention to one of the acid pools, from which a jellyfish-shaped blob emerged.
“Herrah,” Monomon the Teacher said. She was obviously trying to hold in laughter at the sight of the Deepnest Queen precariously perching on a platform far too small for her. “You could have just told Quirrel to fetch me!”
The beast gave a little huff of annoyance, but most of her attention was focused on getting off the platforms. She tensed, then leapt to the floor, ignoring Monomon’s quiet hum of amusement.
Wyrm forsaken, she was glad that her mask wasn’t red.
“Did you want to talk to me, Herrah?” Monomon asked as she drifted down serenely.
Herrah took the escape route and nodded. “Let’s have a little chat. Outside.”
**Author's Note:**
> am I in herrahmon hell? yes.
>
> monomon be like: Bugs? No Explosive Eggs Are Better |
e27e060996f548dda1edfe02de99917d | ['e0a8eda36f2c4f7489938a36391cbb31'] |
Swan Song's Heist
**Author's Note:**
> IMPORTANT: this fic wasn't my work alone! it was written in equal parts by me and my friend, Maddie. their tumblr is baratiepromise, go check it out to see some really cool art and also a generally wonderful person. i have more notes at the bottom, but they can wait. until then, we hope you enjoy!
"Listen up, everyone. I want to go over the plan one more time. Everyone at this party is rich, so there's a lot to gain. I don't want to mess this up," Nami says. She looks in the rear view mirror at her friends in the back of the car to make sure they're paying attention. A sharp glare towards Usopp and Luffy, who are busy shoving at each other's faces, makes them both freeze up and direct their gazes toward her. Satisfied, she looks back at the road in front, "I'll be doing all the robbing. I've been posing as a maid here over the past week, so no one will suspect me moving around. Even so, these are nobles, they’ve always been paranoid, so all of you need to be my distraction so no one notices what I'm doing. I want this to work, okay?" Nami glances in the rear view mirror again, then taps the fox-themed mask on her face, "Remember not to remove your masks once we enter. This is a masquerade, and the police have been plastering our faces on every news channel for weeks. Stick to your characters, too, and try not to call each other by name. You all remember your characters?"
"Nami, I wanna wear the hero mask," Luffy complains loudly, ignoring her, "why does Usopp get it? Let me!"
"Your mask is fine, Luffy. I picked it out, special." Nami says, "Usopp's mask has a big hole in it for his nose, anyway. You don't want it."
"And a dragon is cool!" Usopp grabs Luffy's draconic mask by the corners, then snaps it against his face. The little red scales decorating the mask shine in the light of streetlamps that pass by their cars as he does, the design of it poking into his cheeks a bit. Its angular shape to match the shape of a dragon’s face doesn’t necessarily feel nice against his skin, especially not when snapped back on. Luffy shoves at Usopp’s hands, ready to start something in defiance.
"Okay, roles," Nami repeats loudly, stopping that before it started. Snapping her fingers, She continues, "This is a huge job for us! I don't want to fuck it up and I've already got Vivi covering for us back at home. So, I'm a maid, and Robin is..."
"A detective," Robin finishes smoothly, sitting in the back of the large van. It's the only thing that can somewhat fit their group, "A private one; to be specific. That's just if anyone asks."
"I'm a construction worker," Franky says, though it's unlikely anyone will ask him, as he won't be in the ballroom. In the seat next to him, Chopper speaks up.
"I'm a doctor! Or at least, learning to be one," Chopper says, “Which...isn’t that far off from the truth.”
"I'm a... what am I again?" Usopp blinks, confused, "besides a totally badass hero?"
"I'm a cook," Sanji interjects, "But that's not any different. Tonight I shall woo all the ladies of the party as a distraction for my lovely Nami!"
He grins, squished in the seat with Usopp and Luffy. Zoro in the front passenger seat spares Nami a glance, to which she just shrugs.
"Brook's working as a musician, so he's already at the party," Nami explains. The mansion, large and impressive even in the dark, comes into view. Nami pulls up a long driveway, and after she parks she turns to face Zoro and Luffy, "Luffy and Zoro, you two need to be ready to cover our retreat in case things go south so we can get out alright. Don't break character."
"What's our character again?" Luffy says, messing with his mask. He and Nami are the only ones already wearing theirs, as most everyone else had left theirs off in their laps for the ride over.
"Newlyweds," Zoro answers, staring at the fake ring on his finger, "Me and you are newlyweds, Luffy."
"Oh, right," Luffy says, looking at his own ring. The diamonds are plastic, Nami didn't want to spend much on their disguises. Hopefully no one will look to hard at them.
"Zoro, Luffy, don't leave each other's sides. You need to stick together in case something happens," Nami says, "Zoro, you also need to make sure Luffy doesn't cause any trouble that would jeopardize the plan. And be convincing! You're supposed to be soulmates, act like you love each other!"
Zoro frowns. Goddamn Nami, setting them to this role as to 'push things along.' How could this push anything along? Sure, he's got something bad for Luffy, but he doesn't need help and he doesn't need it like this!
"I'm gonna stick to the food bar," Luffy grins, unaware of Zoro's thoughts, "That'll be easy, right?"
"We're just there to mill around while Nami steals shit," Zoro shrugs, twisting the ring absently. How the hell is he supposed to make this convincing?
"Yeah, so don't mess it up. If Luffy sticks to the food bar, you'd better stick to him. Just enjoy the party, you two," Nami says, "The rest of you know the distraction plan already, so if there aren't any more questions, we can head inside. If this works out, we're going to be rich!"
They pile out of the car, filtering inside. Zoro puts on his mask, waiting for Luffy to come to him. Since he has to be married to Luffy for the night, he may as well walk in with Luffy. | 26f8c8bec5964e9fb061ec65956275f5 | ['e0a8eda36f2c4f7489938a36391cbb31'] | "Yeah, it's— Wait, you're going to do what?" Usopp asks.
"I'm gonna go revive my brothers! We're gonna go see Chopper and revive them," Luffy fills in happily.
"Zoro, you're bringing back the dead?" Usopp demands, turning to Zoro.
"I'm not bringing back the dead," Zoro says, looking away from Usopp, "Chopper is."
"That's not any better," Usopp says.
"I owe it to him to try." Zoro shrugs a shoulder, like raising the dead isn't a big deal. "They were my priests, and their temple lit on fire. The other two died as sacrifices."
"Sacrifices? To what?" Usopp asks, before realizing, "...Oh."
"Yeah." Zoro scoffs, "Sacrifices to me. They wanted to save Luffy, and now Luffy wants to save them."
"I'm going to save them!" Luffy says.
"We _might_ save them," Zoro corrects, "There's no guarantee this will work."
"You shouldn't be trying." Usopp frowns.
"...I owe it to him," Zoro says again, "He's my last priest."
"I am?" Luffy asks, turning to face Zoro. Usopp looks surprised, too. "Since when?"
"You didn't know?" Zoro faces Luffy. "Your temple was my last active one."
"I didn't! What's going to happen now that Zoro doesn't have any active temples?" Luffy asks.
"He's going to lose control over his powers," Usopp says. As he talks, Zoro gets up and walks over to the other side of the small room. In front of him is a wall absolutely covered in clovers. He regards it absently. A few of the clovers die as he stares at them for too long. "A lot of our power comes from human worshippers. Though we can survive without them, not having them is..."
"Everything dies easier now, is all." Zoro brushes it off. He places his hand on the wall, and all the clovers growing through it die immediately. Luffy looks over to the wall, visibly distraught. It doesn't make Zoro feel any better.
"What about your temple in the Afterlife?" Usopp asks, referring to Zoro's home. Though the rest of them live on temples on Skypiea, Zoro built his own elsewhere. Even if Zoro's temple isn't with the others, however, all of their temples' upkeep reflects what their real temples look like. If Zoro has no orderly temples and only one priest, then…
"Small." Zoro answers, watching clover pieces fall to the floor. "Crumbling. That's what happens when the human population curses your name."
He takes his hand off the wall, the wood starting to rot where he left it there for too long. After all, death is followed quickly by decay. He shakes his hand like it was burnt, then goes to sit back down.
"Zoro..." Usopp mumbles.
"It's okay, though!" Luffy says, surprising Zoro. "When I get my brothers back, we'll build a new temple, and we'll tell everyone we met Zoro, and how nice he is, and then Zoro will get lots of new priests. I'm not your last."
Zoro regards Luffy with a sympathetic yet doubtful look at the optimism Luffy expresses. It's true he may regain the two priests' lives, but that doesn't mean he'll actually gain their devotion back. They might hate him after this, all things considered. Luffy, however, has made up his mind on this. New goal decided, he continues.
"We'll find an empty temple and use that. Since everyone thinks Ace and Sabo died, we can't go back there anyway. It can be near a big town. Then the three of us will get Zoro lots of new people," Luffy says, "And I know they'll want to help, too, cuz I know they're watching over me for this journey. They'll see everything Zoro did for them and for me."
"Luffy, breaking the laws of nature isn't exactly something I'm _supposed_ to do." Zoro points out, "That's why Usopp keeps freaking the fuck out. I shouldn't be doing this-and neither should Chopper. We're all going to be in big ass trouble."
"I don't care. I'm bringing them back," Luffy says, "Besides, Zoro'll be in trouble if he _doesn't_ do it, too, cuz I'm his only priest. And I think the Gods owe HIM one, too."
Usopp frowns at the accusation, crossing his arms but not replying.
"The Gods don't owe me shit." Zoro waves a hand, grumbling at the topic even being brought up. He hates talking about this.
"Sure they do. Zoro said he was upset they threw him out, and..." Luffy trails off. He doesn't really want to go down that route again, given the last time he did, Zoro ignored him for two full days. Zoro crosses his arms, then looks to Usopp. Luffy bringing this up reminds him, he has something important to say.
"...Hey," Zoro says, "Go find that blonde girl. Luffy still hasn't eaten."
"What?" Usopp says. Zoro gives him a pointed look, and Usopp decides when the flowers in his hair start to wilt it would be best if he listened. He leaves the room, and once alone, Zoro looks to the ground.
"I'm... sorry for being such an ass back there. I shouldn't have completely ignored you like that," Zoro says.
"Yeah, that was pretty shitty of you." Luffy smiles at him. He looks tired, but his smile is genuine, "But at least you turned around!"
"Well, yeah. I realized you weren't following me anymore," Zoro says, "I shouldn't have let it get to that point, though."
"That's ok." Luffy forgives Zoro easily, reaching forward to pat his knee. Zoro is all he has now, after all, and Luffy has always been forgiving of friends. "Just gimme some food and we'll call it even."
"Alright," Zoro says, "But let me know when you're tired from now on. We're not going to make it to Chopper like this." |
e763cb505a21493ea16f88d89bad512c | ['e0adcd1ab2ad4e9f8cfa0a61c03332dc'] | "Batman is seeing Bruce Wayne!" Hal shouted. "Batman! Seeing himself. This is fantastic."
"What? How did they come to that conclusion?" Arthur was confused.
"I don't know. But I can definitely use this to taunt him."
"What are you shouting about?" Hawkgirl flew into the room and looked at the camera feeds. "Something happen?"
"Damn right, something happened." Hal held his phone out for Hawkgirl to see the article he pulled up.
"No way." She grabbed the phone from his hands and started to laugh. They heard the zeta teleporter power up and the automated voice announced Superman's arrival.
"Hello everyone." Superman greeted when he approached the group.
"Kal! Guess who finally hooked up with someone that can put up with B's crap." Hal said and grabbed his phone from Hawkgirl to give it to Superman. Clark's eyes widened in shock. He quickly read the article in silence. He smirked as he handed the phone back to the Lantern.
"Oh wow," Clark laughed "I wonder how he's going to pull this one off."
* * *
A little while later, at Gotham:
Bruce was finally able to leave the office and go home after answering several calls from various newspapers asking for a comment on his new alleged relationship. He went down to the Batcave as soon as he got home to get ready for tonight's patrol. He wasn't surprised to see Dick Grayson grinning at him from his seat at the Batcomputer.
"Not a single word." Bruce said and pointed an accusing finger at Dick who laughed.
"C'mon, B, you gotta admit this whole situation is funny."
"Do I look amused?" Bruce crossed his arms.
"You were uncharacteristically sloppy, father." Damian said as he descended the stairs. "Letting paparazzi take a picture of you unaware." He paused to look at Dick. "Grayson, what are you doing here? Isn't it date night?"
"It is." Dick nodded in confirmation. "But I wanted to swing by and congratulate B on his relationship in person."
Bruce threw a glare his way.
"Now that I've done what I came here to do, I gotta run." Dick stood and headed for the stairs. "See yah!"
Bruce sighed as he took the now empty seat at the computer.
"Prepare for a long night, Damian." Bruce said and when his son asked why he answered: "Because a lot of people seem to be upset at the idea of Batman being in a relationship with a man. A lot of people are supportive too, but they won't be the ones that may lash out the next few nights until this blows over."
Damian muttered something angry about closed-minded fools as he approached the plate of food Alfred had just delivered.
"There was a similar reaction when Bruce Wayne came out as bisexual." Alfred set a plate of food next to Bruce. "I remember the glitter bomb incident quite well. I'm still cleaning glitter out of the washing machine." Alfred's tone was grave and he had a faraway look on his face. "Ruined that brand new suit jacket."
Bruce's phone vibrated with a text message from Diana.
Diana: _Why didn't you tell me you were in a relationship?! I thought we were closer friends than this_
Bruce sighed, something he felt he was doing a lot of lately, as he typed his reply.
Bruce: _Please don't start that with me. I'll be hearing variations of that for weeks from the other Leaguers as well as my own family._
Diana: _LOL, good luck. Hal already sent out a group message to everyone with a link to the article. The meeting tomorrow will be fun, so get used to it now_
"You confirmed the allegations?" Damian asked from behind Bruce where he'd been reading the messages over his shoulder. He wanted to lecture his son about privacy, but he knew exactly where Damian got the habit from so he kept his mouth shut.
"I had to. Didn't want anyone to start guessing the speculation was false on the grounds that Bruce is Batman."
"Tch. You could have just said Batman was visiting Bruce Wayne for business reasons. Wayne Enterprises does fund a lot of the Justice League's shenanigans."
Bruce stared blankly at his son. The thought didn't occur to Bruce because The Author needed it to work out this way for the sake of filling the writing prompt.
Patrol that night went exactly as expected. Some of the criminals fought harder than normal while throwing out homophobic and hateful comments, while a few even surrendered on sight out of "Respect for Pride, but only just this once." A few times Batman had to hold Robin back from going overboard on an especially hateful criminal, and once Robin had to put a hand on Batman's shoulder to calm him down when someone insinuated Batman "played with his little Robins as well as rich boys."
When the dynamic duo finally returned home, Bruce was exhausted. A couple reporters got in the way during a robbery and the criminals almost escaped. He decided Bruce Wayne was going to make a statement regarding that tomorrow. He would tell the public to direct all their questions to Bruce, and to never disturb "his lover while he defended the city." Took all of Bruce's strength not to cringe just thinking about saying it. To make sure the public was convinced the relationship was real Bruce Wayne needed to be seen in public with Batman at least once.
Bruce had a few options available to him. He could ask someone to put on Batman's suit, of which he had two people he was comfortable asking, or he could ask J'onn to shapeshift. His mind replayed his earlier conversation with Alfred. He thought about his options for a second before he sent a text to Clark Kent asking him to come by the Batcave when he was available. Thirty minutes later Superman joined Batman, sans cowl, in the Cave.
"Need something?" Superman asked. | 845eb22fdcd545b59d3ef14a83fe8348 | ['e0adcd1ab2ad4e9f8cfa0a61c03332dc'] | "So, the stuff was _venomous_." Spoiler says and Jason can hear the grin in her tone even if he can't see it behind her mask. Definitely his favorite of the four. Judging by the way Dick laughs at the pun, Jason suspects she is now his favorite as well.
"Funny." Orphan says and it's the first time Jason's heard her speak since she said her codename. Something about her tone was stilted and unfamiliar with speaking. Almost as if she barely understood English but Jason can sense she is following the conversation perfectly fine. Jason might have guessed she is deaf but then she wouldn't have been able to read Spoiler's lips to know she had made a joke.
"I wish our world had one of you. When I say crap like that, this one" Dick points to Jason "usually punches me and the others audibly roll their eyes at me."
"Audibly roll their eyes? As in they speak their action? Rolls eyes?" Robin asks and slightly tilts his head.
"He means they sigh in disappointment and he can sense the eye roll." Jason clarifies. "And it's because your puns are lame."
"Puns are inherently lame, that's half the appeal."Dick defends himself.
Nightwing opens the door and gestures for everyone to move. "Keep talking we just need to move the conversation to the roof. Megan should be here any minute." Despite Nightwing's suggestion the group does not continue talking. They climb the stairs to the roof in silence. No one speaks until they're all standing on the roof.
"Wait a minute," Dick says as he looks at the buildings around them, "this is Gotham, correct?" he asks. Jason looks around as well. The city around him is all at once familiar and strange. The air, the architecture, and the sounds are all the same. If his eyes were closed Jason would have said without a doubt he is standing in Gotham. The city looks strange when he actually looks at all the buildings. All the structures within his eyesight are old, run down, and whole. The Gotham Jason knew has visible scars from everything she has been through in the last two years alone. The flooded district was still being repaired, buildings blown to hell in Arkham City that are still under construction, stores vandalized and destroyed from riots during both Arkham City and the more recent event of Scarecrow's attack. Everywhere you looked in Gotham there was construction or something awaiting construction.
"Yeah, does your Gotham look different?" Nightwing asks.
"Yes and no." Jason mutters. He isn't sure where in the city he is. He knows Gotham inside and out, he always knows where he is even in the literal underground. He feels disoriented and he hates it. He glances at Dick and reads the discomfort in the set of his jaw. Looks like Dick feels the same way. Jason walks to the edge of the roof and peers at the street below, looking for a street sign, a landmark, anything to orient himself.
Jason feels an arm on his shoulder and he flinches away instinctively. He turns to see the girl dressed in all black, Orphan, standing behind him. She holds up her right hand level with her shoulder in the shape of a fist then she's signing letters in ASL at a moderate pace.
"S. Florence." Then she points to the street below them. Jason looks around himself with this new knowledge and suddenly he recognizes the building opposite them, granted it doesn't have a chunk blown out of it from Hugo Strange's Protocol Ten, but he finally see's it. The other buildings are all different however. But now he knows he's in the southwest somewhere of Miagani Island, assuming South Florence street of this Gotham is in the same location as his Gotham. The tension in his shoulders eases and he gives Orphan a small nod of thanks.
"Heads up." Nightwing says in warning and a few seconds later a spaceship slowly uncloaks itself and hovers above everyone's heads. Jason seriously thinks he got hit with some hallucinogen in the antiseptic Dick used to clean his wounds. There isn't enough room on the rooftop for the ship to land but the bottom opens up and stretches down, forming a ramp that reaches the empty space in the middle of the roof.
"We definitely aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto." Dick says.
3. Chapter 3
"All aboard." Nightwing announces and gestures to the ship hovering over them with a ramp extended down to the rooftop.
"No." Jason says immediately. "I'm not getting in an alien spacecraft straight out of a sci-fi movie." He looks at Dick whose eyes are wide behind his mask and his mouth is hanging open.
"J-bird," Dick says seriously, still gazing up at the ship. "We are _absolutely_ getting in an alien spacecraft straight out of a sci-fi movie."
"No." Jason says with a cross of his arms.
Nightwing looks like he's about to say something but Dick suddenly rushing over to Jason makes him stop short. Dick grabs one of Jason's hands with both of his own and holds it to his chest. He stares into Jason's eyes.
"Jay, J-bird, my favorite little brother, I promise, cross my heart, swear by Alf," Dick's stare is intense as he speaks "I will absolutely leave you alone on this rooftop stranded in another universe if it means I can ride in an alien spaceship. I will not hesitate."
"I fucking hate you. You're also a damn liar, I am not your favorite." Jason growls as he pushes Dick away with the hand his brother is holding. Then Jason turns on his heel and marches toward the ramp leading into the freaky spaceship. "You don't even know that it's alien."
"It's alien. Martian, to be precise." Robin says. |
d9af548d918b407e851a764e052d36b3 | ['e0c935331c9c452d9e9fef01bd6fc131'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This is a prequel to "That's My Man" to show how Harry and Eggsy first got together. There will be another to show how they started their special relationship in the future.
Eggsy hammered the punching bag, again, and again, and again. He kept up long after his hands started to hurt, even through the thick boxing gloves. He kept on after his shoulders started to ache, and his back, and all the way down to his legs. He kept going, even as the floor became soaked with his sweat, and he was at serious risk of slipping and hurting himself.
He thought to himself that maybe that would help and kept on punching, over and over and over again.
“Eggsy,” broke through his consciousness, in crisp, received pronunciation, and he stopped. His body heaving for breath, still aching to continue beyond any reasonable sense. He turned slightly to see Harry standing behind him, crisp and clean and perfect in his Kingsman suit, while he dripped with sweat and fatigue in his gym shorts.
“That won’t help,” Harry said, and when Eggsy looked at him with confusion, he continued. “It’s different for every agent. I feel like there’s an itch under my skin. Can’t scratch it. Cant’ stretch it out. Can’t work it out. Just persistent and maddening.”
“Feel all wound up,” Eggsy mumbled, finding the first words out-loud for what he was feeling. “Got all this, like, lightening inside me and I can’t get it out.”
Harry nodded sagely and stepped closer. “The bag seems like a likely source. We all try it. But a mission gone awry does not need more violence, not for most agents. You need a release.”
“Telling me to pull someone and get my rocks off?” Eggsy said, attempting a smile, but failing. The thought of being close to someone when he felt so violent, so out of control, was terrifying.
“No. You might hurt them,” Harry said, giving credence to Eggsy’s own thoughts. “Come here.”
Eggsy stepped closer to Harry, close enough that he had to tilt his head up, see what was next, close enough that Harry easily reached out for him, grasping the front of his gyms shorts and squeezing the bulge of his cock through the damp, slippery material.
“Harry!” Eggsy let out a gasp of breath, surprise, and shocking pleasure at the touch. He almost stepped back, but leaned in instead, looking down with wondering eyes at Harry’s hand manipulating him, and then back up at Harry’s face, smooth, calm, controlled.
“Touch is good,” Harry said, almost clinically. “Intimacy is better. With someone you trust. Someone who knows you. I thought you and Roxy might-”
“No,” Eggsy said, jumping on Harry’s words. He wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist, pressing and pulling for him to move. He stepped in a little closer, getting into Harry’s personal space.
“I see,” Harry murmured and started to stroke and rub, slow and careful, letting Eggsy’s cock harden and take shape in his hand, jutting out against the material obscenely. Eggsy whined and huffed with pleasure from the touch, pushing into it and seeking more.
“You did well, Eggsy,” Harry said, and Eggsy jolted at the words, soft-spoken and smooth as they were, a strange juxtaposition to the firm hand stroking him, building up the tension in his body. “You used your training. You followed your handler. You did everything you could.”
“I didn’t…” Eggsy choked on the words, unable to form what he couldn’t do, how he could be better, what needed to be done.
“You did,” Harry insisted, and after a pause, lifted his free hand to Eggsy’s head and tucked him in under his chin. He ruffled Eggsy’s sweaty locks, making them stick up as he massaged against Eggsy’s scalp. Eggsy tensed at the touch and then settled in, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.
“Gonna ruin your suit,” Eggsy murmured, letting out a choked laugh, then a groan of pleasure as Harry squeezed him.
“Hush. Don’t worry about that,” Harry said. He moved his hand down Eggsy’s neck, squeezed him there. He moved his hand, temporarily releasing Eggsy’s cock, but moving up, tugging at the band of his shorts and slipping inside the damp, heated material to grasp Eggsy skin to skin. Eggsy let out an explosion of breath, bucked up into Harry’s hand.
“Fuck, Harry,” he moaned, rolling his hips into Harry’s hand, impatient with Harry’s strokes and making use of his firm grip, fucking into his hand at his own pace which Harry allowed, even encouraged, standing still and allowing Eggsy to take his pleasure at his own pace.
“You’re a good agent,” Harry said. Eggsy groaned, his whole body shaking, the electricity under his skin crackling to life and bursting free at the sound of those words. Words he’d needed to hear to soothe the ache. His body strung taut, and he spilled into Harry’s hand, cupped gently around the tip of his cock to catch the spatter, to let it drip harmlessly to the floor. As he continued to drip, Harry held him, grounding him through the shocks and shivers of his orgasm, holding him up as his body relaxed and slumped.
Eggsy wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, gave him his full weight, and swam dizzily in the pleasant haze. He noticed, vaguely, that they were moving, and followed along until they reached the locker rooms.
“A shower will do you good. And some fresh clothes. You might burn these,” Harry said, gesturing to the properly soiled shorts Eggsy had been wearing. Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh a bit, the first time in a few days.
“You give all your agents a nice wank after they fuck up a mission?” Eggsy asked as he stripped out of his shorts and turned on one of the open showers, ready to sluice himself off even while Harry watched. | 1947d0c8c9bb4aab8db26bbf0222cf7f | ['e0c935331c9c452d9e9fef01bd6fc131'] | But Castiel trailed off, unsure what he was going to ask them. To understand? To wait for him? To still want him when he returned? He wasn’t sure. Dean reached out for Castiel, and Sam got up from the couch, and though they reached for Castiel, he brushed off their hands easily, falling back on his inhuman strength once again, a sudden reminder to his lovers that he wasn’t human. With a last look at both of them, Castiel disappeared with the telltale flutter of wings that marked his kind.
~
Day 1
Dean and Sam got a few hours of sleep the first day Castiel was gone. They couldn’t go a whole night without sleeping anymore, but despite their exhaustion, sleep was not easy to hold on to. By late afternoon they were awake again and trudging around the house, each wound tight enough to snap and just waiting to see who would break first.
Sam was making an early dinner, canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. He made enough for three out of habit and sighed when Dean came in and frowned at the three portions. Without comment, Dean split up the third sandwich and put half on each of their plates.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Sam asked, his voice a cracked whisper from disuse all day. Dean just looked up at him, glowering, and went back to eating, dipping his sandwich into his soup aggressively.
“Dean,” Sam said, trying to get a response.
“Please Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ve been thinking myself around in circles all day. Just give it a rest and let me eat my dinner.”
Sam ate a few more bites of his sandwich in respectful, but contemplative silence. Dean looked relieved and ate his food. He should have known it wouldn’t last though.
“You think they’ll try to keep him? They’ve done it before.”
“Sam!” Dean growled, glaring at his brother to make sure he shut up. Sam was silent for a heartbeat.
“If we pray to him, do you think it’d be too distracting?”
Dean grabbed his plate and bowl and went to the living room. There had to be a game on somewhere, and he could use the sound to drown out Sam’s insistent talking, and distract him from his own doubting thoughts. Sam was kind enough to take the hint and leave Dean alone.
~
Day 7
Dean rolled over in bed, seeking warmth and comfort, but it wasn’t there. He rolled again, searchingly, and grazed against Sam’s leg. Sam stirred in his sleep and shifted away. Annoyed, Dean jerked the blankets away and rolled himself into a ball in the middle of the king sized bed. For so many years they’d complained about how small it was, especially when Sam slept in the middle. Now it seemed vast and empty with only two bodies in it.
The hunter phones rang crashingly through the house, jarring the silence that had settled. On the other end, hunters were confused when they heard Sam or Dean’s voice. Where is Castiel? they asked, before getting gruff answers to their questions.
Sam made too much food again, and Dean yelled at him. Raising his voice felt good in the quiet house. Dean told him he was wasting food. There were leftovers piling up in the fridge with no way to eat all of them before they spoiled.
They couldn’t even go about their usual chores without the silence sinking in. No Castiel to call them to lunch as they worked. Castiel did not hand Dean tools so he didn’t have to keep bending over and strain his back. Castiel wasn’t there to help Sam translate a difficult passage. He wasn’t there to criticize either of their TV choices that night, or help them settle on something they could all agree on. They went to bed without watching anything, and both of them tossed and turned in the empty bed.
~
Day 30
Dean woke up to Sam biting his shoulder, and his cock pressed up against Dean’s ass. It was a rare enough occurrence these days that they didn’t ever pass it up. But it hadn’t occurred since Castiel left, so Dean felt strange when Sam turned him onto his back and was reaching into the bedside drawer for the lube. It wasn’t like they had never had sex without Castiel around. He was out some nights, or sometimes just too tired, or even just in the other room. But this was different because they wouldn’t tell him about it later, or he wouldn’t wander in and watch them.
Their kisses were clumsy, and so were Sam’s fingers. Dean bit back a hiss as Sam went just a little too fast. The last time they’d had sex was before Castiel left, so he was tight and unused to it. Sam mumbled an apology, for the pain, and their neglect for the past month. Dean accepted the apology, kissing Sam and pulling him closer, wanting to connect with him.
Sam pushed in, hot and hard for a few thrusts, jerky and overly eager, but then softening a bit and slipping out. “Sorry,” he mumbled, jerking his cock back to hardness. This wasn’t unusual either, and Dean reached to help him, stroking his cock, guiding it back in. For a moment, it worked, but then, it didn’t anymore.
“Lemme just…” Sam said, biting his lip in thought. |
4db2481ebf0d4dcfa601bfd61a8010eb | ['e0db4b18b45c439c8215910b8dc041d5'] | They were laughing too hard, sliding around the wet and soapy floor, to notice the front door opening.
“What is going on here!?”
Yamato fumbled for the faucet. His slippery fingers prying at Taichi’s as they scrambled to turn off the water. The hose wound itself back into the sink, making a loud clunk as it settled back into place. Meanwhile, Yamato’s dad stared at the two teenagers, jaw dropped, looking even more tired than Yamato had ever seen him.
“Hi, Mr. Ishida,” Taichi said with a nervous laugh. He attempted to push his waterlogged brown hair out of his face, but it just felt back down.
“Dad. You see, what happened was—”
“Actually, I don’t want to know.” Step by step, Yamato’s father slowly made his way backwards towards his room. “Just make sure this is all cleaned up. Ok?”
“Sure thing.” Yamato rapidly nodded his head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Ishida.” Taichi smiled a pleasant smile, lifting his fingers in a peace sign. It only dropped when he heard the bedroom door close with a click. He turned towards Yamato. “I totally had you.”
“Whatever, man.”
Taichi lifted an eyebrow. Yamato lifted his own. The longer they stared, neither one backing down, the bigger a bubble of laughter grew in their stomachs. Then they were both doubled over, arms gripping their stomachs, laughing so hard, their faces were bright red as they gasped for air.
How could he have ever gone to a time thinking he had no friends? That time in the Digital World, surrounded by the darkness that plagued his mind, it seemed so far away now. He never wanted to be stuck in that cycle of thinking again.
With Taichi around, he didn’t think he’d have that problem. | 6cacfa302df24681a8fa0c08e7986b20 | ['e0db4b18b45c439c8215910b8dc041d5'] | “That’s it, then?” Captain Singh asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not even going to hear his side of the story?”
Before Mayor Van Buren could answer, a knock sounded on her door. A tall man in an immaculately pressed suit leaned into the room, smoothing his tie with his hand as he did so. “Excuse me, Mayor, the press is here,” he announced, “we’re ready to get started when you are.”
“You know as well as I do, Captain,” Mayor Van Buren said as she rose to her feet, “that eyewitness testimony can change over time.”
“And yet, Barry is the only eyewitness to this case,” Captain Singh explained, “and he has not once change his story.” He pressed his lips together. “I will follow through with your proposal, but I do not agree with this decision.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mayor Van Buren replied. She stiffly offered her hand to Captain Singh who hesitated before grasping it and shaking it firmly. After all, despite their differences, it was important to that they could rely on each other for the city’s sake.
Captain Singh had kept his gaze on Mayor Van Buren until he had left the room. On one hand, he could believe this was her stance on the subject. She was new to it all and needed to make her mark as an effective mayor. On the other, he didn’t understand how she could ride on a mission statement to help the city and turn her back on one of those citizens she promised to help.
No sooner had he down his second portion of scotch, had Barry Allen arrived at work. The sudden silence in the main work room behind him was evident of that. As Captain, he knew instantly when things were different in the work room. While he may have complained about the noise every now and then, it was background noise he got used to. One small change, and he zeroed in on it instantly.
His office door shut, the blinds bouncing off the wooden frame until it settled.
“You wanted to see me?” Setting his glass down, Captain Singh muted the TV and turned to face Barry. He regarded him in time to see the remnants of his smile disappearing.
“And something tells me it’s not good news.”
“It’s not,” Captain Singh agreed. “Take a seat, Barry.”
Barry blinked in surprise. “No, I’m-I’m good standing,” Barry replied. “What’s wrong? Everyone here looked at me as if…like I’m not supposed to be here or something.”
“Because they don’t think you should be here,” Captain Singh replied. Barry’s eyebrows angled towards each other, his jaw tightening. “Which is complete bull. Everyone here knows exactly who you are and what kind of person you are. To turn their back on you now…” He shook his head. “Just know I’m trying to figure a way out of this. Ok? I have your back.”
“What is it?” Barry asked. His shoulders dropped. The gleam in his eyes disappeared.
For the first time, Captain Singh was witnessing a drained Barry Allen. Finally, all the years of brushing off sneers, whispers, points, and distrust, was evidently weighing down on him. He was proud to witness Barry taking it all in stride, and even more impressed that he was letting it show just how hard it was to be him.
“I, unfortunately, am being told that it is the best interest of Central City if you are put on leave,” Captain Singh explained, sighing through his nose. Barry’s jaw dropped. “I’ve been in meetings and added to conference calls all morning trying to work this decision in your favor. You will still be paid.” Barry scoffed. “I had to work hard to even get that. That’s a win, Barry.”
“A small one,” Barry muttered.
“Better than no win at all,” Captain Singh reminded him. “I’m on your side. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you can come back to work.” Barry slowly nodded. “I find it incredible that after everything the only thing you want to do is get right back to work despite all of the theories.”
Barry let out a short laugh, a half smile appearing on his face. “I find it incredible that this whole time I’ve worked for you,” he said, “that this is the first time I remember you ever calling me Barry.”
Captain Singh chuckled. “Don’t get used to it,” he replied.
“Who made this decision?” Barry asked. Captain Singh hesitated. “Please, I have to know.”
Captain Singh tapped the TV remote against his chin before pointing it towards the screen. The two of them faced the press conference that was being broadcasted on the screen. They couldn’t hear Mayor Van Buren speaking, but the muscles bulging in her neck, the narrowing of her eyes, and her hand that punctuated her words by slapping the podium she stood behind was all indicators of an impassioned speech.
Just the sight of her made Captain Singh’s body tense. “Hey.” He tore his gaze from the TV to Barry, who was watching him curiously. “I get it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not happy about it, you know I’m not.” He bowed his head and said quietly, almost boyishly, “When can I come back? I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to not work.”
“I’d have you back in a second, you know that,” Captain Singh explained. “But, I have a big team under me and I must think of them, too.”
“I know.”
“You can get through this, Barry,” Captain Singh replied. He scratched at his eyebrow. “And I’m intentionally not answering your question because I know you’ll really hate the answer.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Barry pressed his lips together. His nostrils flared as he pushed a sigh through his nose. Crossing the room to Captain Singh’s desk, he lifted the glass he had discarded. He swirled the ice around the bottom before holding it out towards Captain Singh.
“Barry…”
“Not like I’m drinking on the job, right?” Barry asked. “Don’t worry. One drink won’t do anything to me. Seriously.” Captain Singh switched off the TV, and opened his bottom desk drawer, retrieving his bottle of scotch. “Just two fingers.” Barry quickly tossed back the drink, making a face after he swallowed.
“This isn’t over,” Captain Singh announced. “DeVoe is willingly speaking with us and answering all our questions. It’s just a matter of time.” Barry was silent. “I’m trying my hardest.”
“I know.” Handing his empty glass back to Captain Singh, Barry made his way to the door. Nodding his head, he managed a smile and said, “I know. Thanks.”
**Author's Note:**
> We seriously need more of Captain Singh in this show and not just in quick scenes. I’m enjoying writing him. Thanks for reading. |
3a838551378d4cf1b20b6ef6a9d8f81b | ['e0e278c1e0cd44f0ad1760a8056c161e'] | A smirk tugged at Jensen’s lips. Jared could protest all he wanted but his arousal was obvious and it brought a flush of color across his cheeks, heat pulsing instantly through every inch of his much slighter form. “So. Just a kid huh?”
With that he reached out and trailed his finger along the underside of Jared’s cock, watching as it continued to fill and lengthen at his touch. The softest of little moans rose through Jared and he tried to stifle by biting on his lip but Jensen’s heart fluttered in response. Outside of watching his own body reacting, Jensen had never seen a cock harden like this. He couldn’t tear his gaze away and as continued the slow trace of lines and ridges Jared simply hardened further.
“Wow,” Jensen whispered, wetting his lips and staring for a few minutes longer before he finally tore his gaze back up at Jared. The slave’s cheeks were flushed, his teeth dug hard into his bottom lip, the slightest grimace on his face like he hated himself for the way his body was reacting. “Sit down on my bed.”
“But I-”
“I _said_ , sit down,” Jensen snapped, glaring at Jared for just a moment before turning away and starting in on his clothing. He didn’t turn back to see if Jared was following his orders as he undressed, laying everything over his desk chair to take care of in the morning. For a moment he glanced at the small stack of _other_ presents he’d received earlier and he considered putting them in their proper places but how could he possibly ignore the best gift who was - hopefully - waiting on his bed.
When he was naked he turned back to the bed Jared was sitting just along the edge and Jensen caught just a moment of his gaze before he looked away. The flush on the slave’s cheeks deepened and Jensen watched as his cock twitched. It had Jensen’s stomach fluttering and he stepped quickly forward, spreading his legs and crawling up to sit on Jared’s lap.
“Oh god,” Jared whispered, instantly biting down on his lip. Apparently he was still learning how to keep some thoughts to himself or something. Normally a Master wouldn’t be too pleased with a slave that spoke back but Jensen kind of liked it. Within reason. There was no way he was letting Jared get away with not doing anything.
“Don’t worry Jared, I just want to get a little familiar with your body. There won’t be any fucking tonight. I want that, obviously, but we’ve got plenty of time.” Jensen reasoned, trailing his fingers along Jared’s shoulders and neck.
“F-fucking?” Jared almost gasped and just barely squirmed under Jensen’s weight on his thighs. “You want... but. You’re... you’re so...”
“Please don’t call me a kid again. Seriously. Do I really act like a child to you?” Jensen rolled his eyes and let his fingers drift down to circle Jared’s nipples slowly.
Jared choked on a moan and his hands lifted to plant over Jensen’s hips and keep him from squirming any closer. “Tiny. You’re _small_ Mas- Jensen. I’ll hurt you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh don’t worry, we’ll make sure I’m plenty stretched out before that time comes.” Jensen reasoned easily and shrugged, thumbing across Jared’s nipples until they both hardened and Jared let out another of those forcefully restrained moans.
Before Jared could protest any further Jensen shoved him back and dropped down with him to sprawl over his chest. He closed his lips around Jared’s nipple and sucked slowly, dragging his teeth along the nub and rocking his already aching cock forward as Jared moaned. A large hand, long fingers, came up to cup over the back of his head and for a moment Jensen thought he’d be pushed away - which wouldn’t have made him all that pleased - but Jared simply held him there instead.
Jensen took his time tasting his way along Jared’s chest. The skin was kind of addicting. Warm and fresh, smooth and silky beneath his lips and tongue. And the way Jared moved in slow twists and writhes was kind of perfect. Jensen felt weirdly powerful and he grinned against Jared’s hipbone in between tracing the contours with his tongue.
“Shouldn’t I-” Jared gasped and combed his fingers through Jensen’s hair. “P-please you, Master? Jensen? I should...”
“Oh trust me, this is very pleasing.” Jensen pushed up long enough to grin at Jared, rolling his hips down against Jared’s thigh to show his slave just how hard his cock was. “I think I want to taste your cock tonight though. It _is_ my birthday after all. And on my birthday I should get whatever I want.”
With that Jensen slid off the edge of the bed to kneel between Jared’s legs and leaned down. He caught the musky scent of Jared’s arousal, unable to name the spicy sweet combination that belonged to his slave. Jensen moaned softly as his tongue slid out between his lips and dragged from base to tip, circling all those little ridges he’d felt with his fingers before. Jared moaned so loudly it echoed around them and Jensen laughed in giddy pleasure, more pleased with himself than he could admit to.
Having never been able to taste someone in this way before, Jensen took his time to taste along every inch of his slave’s rock hard cock. His tongue laved over the forming drop of pre-come over and over, gathering up the bittersweet slick and memorizing the way it spread across his tongue. It was delicious in the strangest of ways and Jensen wanted to spend forever sucking along Jared’s flesh. | d1ce30b0f4cf42af9d35a27d564c3a6d | ['e0e278c1e0cd44f0ad1760a8056c161e'] | “Okay, okay,” Jensen gasped and pulled his fingers free, twisting around to reach out beneath Jared’s body. Before the wolf could move away he was smearing the rest of the lube along the exposed length of Jared’s cock, heart slamming hard in his chest. Something like a soft howl fell from Jared’s parted lips and Jensen squirmed on the blankets. “Take me, Jared, make me yours.”
Jensen had barely flipped back over to his hands and knees when Jared was there. The wolf was big enough that he barely had to put any weight on Jensen’s back, his paws digging into the blankets on either side of Jensen as his body slid into pace. Jensen closed his eyes and gasped as the heat of Jared’s cock slid along his skin, gliding silky smooth for a couple thrusts then finally into place.
The first thrust surprised Jensen. It wasn’t as painful as he expected, but the knot was still to come. Instead it was deep and filling, causing Jensen’s stomach to roll and flip with the burst of pleasure exploding through him. The combination of Jared’s hips steadily working against him, the brush of his fur over Jensen’s skin with each thrust, and the occasional slide of his tongue along Jensen’s shoulder, it was simply too much.
This was better than Jensen could ever have imagined and his fingers curled into fists in the blanket beneath him, body arching up into each thrust. It was perfect.
~~
From the moment Jared had seen Jensen, just a young boy walking along the path and singing to himself, he had pictured the moment when the boy would become his mate. This, though, was beyond any of his wildest fantasies. So many years he’d been longing for a mate to call his own, longing for the connection and love and heat and now that it was finally his, Jared wasn’t even completely sure how to react.
Having never experienced this physical pleasure before he was unable to stop the way his hips jerked quickly forward, burying himself deeper and harder into the tight heat of Jensen’s body that seemed to cling around him. Jensen was absolute perfection, the moans that fell from his lips, the heady scent of sex rising from his body, the way he was already begging and pleading for more.
“Jared, oh. Y-your knot, I can, I think I can feel it starting,” Jensen gasped and his hand slid to the side, covering Jared’s paw in an oddly tender grasp.
Jared could feel it as well, the tingling pleasure building as his thrusts slowed and his knot began to swell. The very idea of being tied off with his boy had his body jolting forward once more, his come already pumping to fill the boy beneath him. Jensen was still moaning softly but whatever words he was trying to say were too blurred for Jared to understand, his tone deep and shaky with each stuttered breath.
_Mine_. Jared thought possessively as his knot filled to completion, tongue dragging over the sweat forming on the back of Jensen’s neck. Now that Jared was breeding his mate, whether he could actually carry children or not, there was no question that the boy belonged to him. Jared would never let him go again.
Moments later Jensen was coming, shuddering and whimpering beneath Jared, his entire body shaking as the scent of his release filled the air. Jared knew they would be tied like this for quite some time, but Jensen was swaying dangerously and he didn’t want the boy hurting himself.
Working carefully he managed to get them both to rest on their sides, Jensen pressed flush up against him so Jared’s knot remained buried deep in him. Jensen’s fingers stroked soothingly along Jared’s fur and Jared felt the pleasant hum that rose from him a moment later.
“So very perfect,” Jensen whispered, pulling Jared’s foreleg over his chest so Jared was basically hugging the boy. “Better than everything I’ve been dreaming of. God, I love you, Jared. I really love you so much. I hope... sometime soon. I hope that you will show me who you are. I’d like to see your human form as well.”
Jared closed his eyes and pressed his pull against Jensen’s chest, holding the boy closer. The idea of changing to his human form was terrifying really, even if he knew this boy would likely never judge him. Jensen loved his wolf form, that was enough for the boy for some crazy reason. But Jared as a human? He couldn’t say if he would be enough, if he would please his boy, and Jared wasn’t certain he could take the risk.
~~
Jensen hadn’t meant to fall asleep with Jared’s knot still in him but it was a long night and he felt so peaceful and relaxed, he couldn’t help it. But he woke not too long after Jared had pulled away, mainly because the wolf’s tongue was working over his stretched and abused hole, sweeping in to gather the come still buried deep up in Jensen.
With a gasp Jensen arched up into Jared’s seeking tongue, teeth clenching until he remembered he didn’t need to swallow his moan. No one would hear him out here except Jared and Jensen was fairly certain his wolf _wanted_ to hear him. So his lips parted on a deep moan and Jared’s tongue swept nearly all the way inside him, gathering up every inch of come that lingered there.
“Oh Jesus, Jared,” Jensen moaned and rubbed his hips against the blankets beneath him, the arousal too much to ignore. But as his fingers inched down to curl around his cock Jared was pulling away and Jensen groaned, rolling onto his back to face the wolf. “Let me see the other side of you. I... please? You could touch me, kiss me. And I could touch and kiss you. I’m yours no matter how you look, Jared, that won’t ever change.” |
24a503fc4bcd4dca9a9887f25114ac1f | ['e0f045af6aef41d4b6fa02b2f822cb03'] |
“Honestly, Potter, one would think that after six years in this bloody school Snape taught you something! You can’t possibly know _absolutely nothing_ after SIX. BLOODY. YEARS.” Draco was getting angry.
“Well, at least now you know how I feel when I tutor you in DADA. I know we had a new teacher every year, I was there. And you have books with spells and everything, and you still know next to nothing? After six years? HOW???”
That wasn’t entirely true. Draco knew a lot of stuff about Dark Arts and Defence; it was a requirement for joining the Dark Lord, to know what to cast to attack and how to defend. However, now with everything linking him to the Dark Magic gone, the knowledge was not entirely necessary. So what was the thing that made him sign up for one of those study groups?
Potter, of course.
Draco knew Potter was gay; it had been in his biography in The Daily Prophet after all. Draco also knew that he had this huge crush on Potter since third year, which took great parts in tormenting him inside every year, knowing that he would never be able to do anything about it. Now, however, he got the chance, and he wasn’t intent on letting it pass. But how does one make another fall in love?
Draco wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing.
“Are you even listening to me?” Potter’s voice brought him back to reality. “I said this week’s study group is done, next week we have practice in the Room of Requirement.”
“Yes, Potter, whatever.” Draco gathered his things and left.
* * *
Draco entered the Room holding a small vial of Veritaserum in his hand. He figured, if they get thirsty, Room would provide them with water, and then he’d only have to spike Potter’s water with it. First step was to know what ground did he stand on.
“Finally, I’ve been waiting for you since forever!” Potter exclaimed. Draco looked around the room; there were metal soldiers and mirrors everywhere, and a small table with two chairs near the entrance. Potter was sitting at the table with something in his hand. A glass of water. Hell yes, Draco thought, this is going to be easier than I imagined it.
“Alright, can we get to the stuff? I have somewhere to be later.” Potter said hurriedly. Draco smirked. If everything goes well, you will be in my bed later, he thought.
“Whatever floats your boat, Potter.” Draco drawled.
With that they got to the work. Well, it couldn’t be called work, since Draco put his minimal effort into spell casting, and Potter was again mad at him. While Potter was ranting about laziness and incompetence, all Draco could think about was how to spike his water.
Finally, a chance ensued. Potter turned around to show how to cast some spells, and Draco pulled out the vial, uncorked it and tipped all the Veritaserum out. However, what he did not see was that one drop of the serum remained on the edge of the vial, and dropped into his glass.
“Can I try now?”
Potter appeared surprised, but answered nevertheless. “Yeah, sure. I’ll sit for a while.” With that he went back to table and drank some of the water. Let the fun begin.
“Uhm, Malfoy, does water taste weird to you?” Potter asked.
Draco smirked knowingly and turned around. He walked over to the table and drank his glass of water. Potter was right, it did taste weird. Could it be that Potter had spiked his drink as well?
Draco dismissed that thought as irrational (he’s too Gryffindor for that) and went back to spell casting.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Potter blurted out of nowhere. Draco turned around.
Before he knew it, he blurted out: “I don’t hate you.”
Potter’s mouth formed a small O. “Then how do you feel about me?” he smirked slightly.
“I’ve...had a crush on you. Since third year.” Draco immediately put a hand on his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that! “Did you spike my water with Veritaserum?”
Potter was now smirking visibly, apparently pleased with this bit of information. “No, but I saw you when you spiked mine. Do you honestly think I’m that dumb?” With that he went a step further towards Draco.
“Well, seeing as your Potions knowledge is minimal, I actually did.” Draco also went a step further.
“Malfoy, this was a DADA lesson a few weeks ago. How to recognise a certain spell or potion in your drink. But then again, your Defence knowledge is so low; I wouldn’t be surprised if you said you remember nothing.” Another step.
“Potter, do you honestly not remember what I told at the trial? That the requirements for joining the Death Eaters were a sizeable knowledge of Dark Arts and Defence?” Draco took another step.
The silence that followed was deafening. Silent, and yet spoke volumes. They were now barely a foot apart.
“So, this whole time, you acted like you didn’t know anything about DADA because...?” Potter seemed confused. Trust him to be the oblivious one.
“Because I wanted to be closer to you, you oblivious fool.” Draco cursed himself for revealing that much.
Potter seemed to contemplate this for a few moments. Then he leaned forward and captured Draco’s lips with his own and tangled his hands in Draco’s hair. It took a second for Draco to respond, but once he did, it wasn’t a sweet and innocent kiss anymore; now it was borderline erotic. Their tongues began a battle for dominance, with Potter winning in the end. A small gasp escaped Draco and Potter chuckled.
With every second of the kiss, Draco’s legs weakened. Potter apparently felt that and pinned him to a nearby wall. They remained like that for another minute, and when they finally parted, Draco blurted out: “I want to do dirty things to you. In my bed.”
Potted laughed at this and said: “Alright, but later. I believe we have to finish our lesson now.” He seemed to contemplate something for a few moments, and then said in that low, sexy voice, “If you do well, I might even reward you.”
Draco proceeded to do the best spell-casting he’s ever done. | 2fcdbd4487294effafdc286df6cafd44 | ['e0f045af6aef41d4b6fa02b2f822cb03'] | That’s all that went through Yongguk’s head the whole night; when he went to a convenience store to buy wine for Himchan, soju for himself and beer for the maknaes; when he crossed another road, thinking about how it could have been him; when he entered the arcade, thinking how it could have been neither if Daehyun didn’t start the fight; when the three of them entered the dorm, thinking how they’re going to relay the news to the rest of the world. B.A.P will never be the same. There will be no more of the laugh that could turn the sourest mood into good. None of them will ever be the same after this. Yongguk briefly wonders if they should disband, but shakes the thought off for now. After all, as a leader, he first has to relay the news to his band members.
* * *
Himchan hears the creak of the door. He hears three pairs of shoes being dumped on the floor. He briefly wonders if they found Youngjae and brought him home, but all hope of that drains from him when he sees Yongguk, as pale as a ghost. He immediately takes the bag from his hands, seats him and offers him a glass of water.
He notices something is wrong and contemplates waking up Daehyun. When he makes a move to go towards the bedroom, Yongguk lets out a choked sound that makes Himchan pause in his tracks and return to the kitchen. Yongguk motions to the bag and Himchan distributes its content among them. The boys crack open the cold beers, Yongguk takes a swig of soju and before Himchan even manages to uncork the wine, Yongguk blurts out, “Youngjae is dead.”
Everyone freezes. Himchan slowly turns around and says, “Bbang, I hope this is some kind of a joke.”
“I wish. A car hit him not far from here. He was dead on the spot.”
Junhong chokes on his beer. Jongup manages to get him out of the chair and on the couch in the living room, from where both of them can be heard crying. It’s no secret by now that Junhong has, or rather, had, a crush on Youngjae ever since debut. All of them knew it, except Youngjae.
Himchan lurches forward and takes Yongguk in his arms before the older breaks down, reassuring him the whole time that it wasn’t his fault and he couldn’t have done anything about it anyway, but he eventually breaks down too.
He can’t yet process the fact that Youngjae is gone.
He hopes the younger will return in the morning, having rested and back to his usual, bickering self. However gross Himchan claims it to be, he hopes to see Youngjae kissing Daehyun good morning. He hopes to see them on a couch, huddled up next to each other, just enjoying the warmth that the other radiates. But, Youngjae is gone. The fact finds its place in Himchan's mind like it has always been there, and there's really not much he can do right now. He could cry, but that wouldn't bring Youngjae back.
Yongguk eventually frees himself from Himchan’s grip and says he’s going for a walk. He needs to find a way to break the news to Daehyun, after all. Himchan kisses him on the forehead and lets him go, but not before giving him a pack of the cigarettes they keep around to calm down.
* * *
Yongguk wanders the city until dawn.
It’s not until early morning that he comes to Jaebum’s house to see how Youngjae is doing after yesterday’s fight and to collect the younger.
Youngjae greets him with a warm smile that suggests he isn’t mad anymore, and when Yongguk says he’s here to pick him up and get him back to the dorm, the younger’s expression stays the same. He picks up his bag, hugs Jaebum and promises to come by more often. As soon as Jaebum closes the door, Yongguk hugs Youngjae.
“I was worried about you. I didn’t sleep all night. After Himchan called me to tell me to inform Jaebum of your arrival, I went back to the dorm to spend some time with Himchan and the kids, because God knows I’ve been busy these days, but when I got there I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That’s why I wandered the city since, like, midnight.”
Youngjae is silently crying. “Hyung, I had a bad dream. I woke up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t go back to sleep ever since. Thank God Jaebum was there, or I would have probably cried all night. Thank you for coming. Let’s go back to the dorm.”
* * *
The first thing Youngjae notices upon entering the dorm are loud whimpers, which he immediately recognizes as Daehyun’s. He sprints towards their bedroom, opens the door and is greeted with a sweaty Daehyun who’s, apparently, having a bad dream. _So much about synchronization_ , Youngjae thinks. He sits next to Daehyun on the bed and slowly tries to wake him up.
At first, Daehyun won’t move; instead, he starts talking in his sleep. Youngjae can’t understand much, but he hears words “Youngjae” and “dead” pretty clearly. He shakes Daehyun so the older would wake up. Of course, that results in nothing except maybe quieter Daehyun.
Youngjae tries a different approach. He strips himself of his clothes and lies next to Daehyun and proceeds to pet his head until the older wakes up. Eventually, after a few minutes, Daehyun slowly wakes up.
* * *
Daehyun is confused. He’s sleeping on his side of the bed, and Youngjae is dead, so why does it smell like Youngjae? As he awakens, he can feel someone holding him and petting his head. As much as he doesn’t like it, he opens his eyes and promptly gapes at Youngjae.
Youngjae watches him in amusement. “What? Do I have something on my face?” he asks.
Daehyun is still gaping at him, before he extends a hand and lightly bops Youngjae’s nose. “You’re alive,” he whispers.
“Of course I’m alive, what kinda question is that?” Youngjae asks him, clearly confused.
Daehyun doesn’t bother to correct him and say it was a statement; instead, he whispers, “I had a bad dream. A terrible dream. A nightmare. I dreamed that- that you-“ he chokes up, unable to continue.
“That I what?” Youngjae asks. “That I was dead?”
Daehyun starts crying. “Don’t leave me again.” He chokes out, tightening his grip on Youngjae.
“I wasn’t planning to. Never.” Youngjae answers, on the verge of tears.
They fall asleep together, holding onto each other as if they are afraid the other might disappear somehow, and that’s how Himchan finds them when he announces that lunch is ready. He leaves them be, though, and instead throws himself over Jongup, claiming he’s cold, and carefully observes sleeping Junhong who is wrapped around Yongguk. He doesn’t miss the way Yongguk’s left hand is holding Junhong close to him, nor does he miss the was Junhong’s face is buried in Yongguk’s neck. He also doesn’t miss the faint smile that is present on Yongguk’s face, and when he pokes him lightly and motions towards sleeping Junhong, Yongguk promptly blushes and stutters. Himchan smiles and thinks to himself, “Seems like someone else will be announcing a relationship soon.” |
18263c7ba1e54cbaaaab43fd7465b09f | ['e1042540afb2479a9bf7cc6103103bd1'] | “He tried to kill himself, and nearly succeeded a few times as well. But someone always stopped him.” He mused softly, as his thumb brushed over the old and faded scars that adorned the underside of Jinyoung’s arm, something he had discovered in the early days of their friendship.
“Oh yeah?” Jinyoung murmured, as he shifted to peer up at Jaebum with one eye. “Then what happened?” His warm breath danced across the stretch of the mobster’s neck, causing the tiny hairs to rise in small goosebumps.
“Eventually, he realized that there was someone beside him the whole time. Someone that would never leave him, and would chase the darkness away until they were old and grey, had arthritis and forgot who they even were anymore.” Jaebum finished and lifted the now mostly empty bottle to his lips.
Jinyoung was silent for a moment before he spoke. “So… he found God then?”
The whiskey Jaebum had in his mouth ended up on the other side of the kitchen as he sputtered and choked.
“NO YOU DUMMY! HOW DENSE CAN YOU BE? IT’S ME!” He blurted out then froze at the admission, realizing he had so easily fallen into Jinyoung’s trap.
The rich sound of Jinyoung’s laughter bubbled up from near the mobster’s chest and the man sat up, covering his mouth as his eyes crinkled at the corners and the soft, whisker-like wrinkles Jaebum loved, revealed themselves. He took in the sight of the older’s sullen frown before he dropped his hand and leaned in to plant a kiss on the elder’s lips then drew back and maneuvered himself to straddle the mobster’s hips, pushing him back against the fridge. The older blinked in surprise at the kiss and let out a soft oomph as he looked up at Jinyoung, his hands reaching up to wipe away tears that beaded and gathered upon the younger’s lashes.
For an instant, Jinyoung saw the visage of Mark before him, just as he had in the rainy graveyard and stared for a moment before he blinked and it was Jaebum once again. Mark was gone and it was time to move on, he knew it, and felt this was Mark’s way of saying it was okay for him to move on as well.
The stripper bit his lower lip as he reached up to grasp the older’s hand and took a deep breath.
“You really mean that? What you said before… about growing old and all that shit?”
“Yeah, every word.” Jaebum answered honestly.
Jinyoung gazed back into the older’s eyes, searching for anything that said otherwise, but came up empty. He let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding and leaned forward to rest his forehead against his friend’s, closing his eyes.
“Chase away the darkness Jaebum.” He uttered quietly as Jaebum’s hands moved to cradle his head and their lips met once again.
* ~ * ~ *
Sunlight filtered through newly leafed branches as two people stood before a fairly new headstone. A light warm wind tossed the dark, neatly styled hair of a young man in his early twenties, his bandaged hand clasped tightly with that of the man beside him.
A fresh bouquet of white daffodils and light blue hydrangea blooms replaced the withered blooms before the headstone and for a moment the world seemed to stop as dark eyes rested upon small monument of their fallen comrade.
“Hey Mark…. It’s been a while…” | 45b33e70fcc442518752eb5359079870 | ['e1042540afb2479a9bf7cc6103103bd1'] |
**Author's Note:**
> First work being posted on here yay! (I'm nervous as hell).
>
> It's written in first person pov and is supposed to be vague and dreamy, I hope you all enjoy it!
_"All of our memories that used to be like hell._
_I will remember all of our past days, you who used to play with me._
_There is no longer the past image of me who used to smile in front of you brightly no matter what kind of love comes for me, it’s funny, my crinkled heart._
_I tried everything to forget you; I hoped that I would have recovered the fastest and you would regret looking at me."_
_"Holding on to our past habits, I drowned effortlessly in your nightmare like memories many times. But still, because you were the one I loved I will never forget, Yes, I remember.”_
~ * ~ * ~
It was dark when the rustling sound woke me.
Quietly I sat up and looked around, only to notice that it was you; slipping silently as you could out of your bunk so as not to wake the others. You glanced up and saw that I was awake, giving a mischievous smirk before sliding through the darkness of the shared bedroom. You opened the paper shutters of the large round window, the full moon’s light pouring in to illuminate the darkened room. I watched as you lifted yourself onto the wooden sill, then climbed through and stood on the moonsoaked veranda. You looked to me expectantly, as though I were meant to follow.
_All of our memories that used to be like hell. I don’t know why all of them are still stuck on my mind._
Slowly, I slid from my bunk and moved like a ghost through the room. I climbed through the window and closed it behind me. You were already slipping on your shoes as I moved forward to follow suit. I had no idea whether this was real or a dream, but as you moved off towards the woods I followed.
You led us through the underbrush, silent and not saying a word; the woods around us were pitch black and silent as a grave. I admit I was afraid and stuck close as you continued forward and soon the undergrowth opened up into a small moon lit glade.
A thin, light fog hung in the air like an ethereal veil; a natural stone bound pool fed by a softly trickling stream lay off to one side; the rest of the mist wreathed clearing was filled by tall dew-laden grasses and wild flowers that swayed lightly with the gentle, warm summer breeze.
As I stood taking in the beauty, you grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward as if in impatience. 螢火蟲, yinghuochong, floated up from the plants as we moved through them; it was beautiful, a thousand dancing lights moving around us.
_I learned that in the end there is no such promise of forever. But those words made me come this far many times. You, who let me go with your own hands, don’t ever look back, even for one last time._
Near the pool you stopped and turned towards me, dark eyes locked upon mine as I gazed back at yours. My hand reached up and cupped your pale cheek, soft and warm like a ripe peach, were you blushing? I would never know as you leaned into my hand. You were so beautiful.
_Holding on to our past habits, I drowned effortlessly in your nightmare like memories many times. But still, because you were the one I loved I will never forget, Yes, I remember._
Lips pressed against lips, softly at first then became more frenzied as your arms wrapped around me, your slender fingers entangling in my hair and nails raked down my back.
Breaths were shared between us, we were no longer two people but one, individuality no longer mattered as we dropped into the grass, hands moving in frenzy to remove the clothing that separated our bodies and tossed them aside as our lips met once again. Your pale warm skin, soft as velvet, pressed against my own while waves of pleasure washed over me.
As we made love, I gazed up at your pale form, skin glistening in the moon’s pale light, you seemed to glow and for a moment I thought you were a 狐狸精, a hulijing from the legends I had heard as a child. A smile was upon your lips, even as I took you, you smiled. For that one moment you had let down your guards and I saw the real you that was kept so carefully hidden, it was beautiful.
Crickets and frogs chirped in a chorus around us as you cried out my name over and over again, our breaths and voices echoing into the darkness beyond the glade as our passionate love making came to its crescendo, your back arching, eyes turned skyward as you cried out in pure ecstasy of climax.
The songs of the nocturnal world around us accompanied the tempo of your beating heart and the soft whispers of your breath as they trailed across my heated skin. I held you close and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, taking in the sweet scent of your dark sweat dampened hair. It was then that you shifted, your breath dancing across my skin in a puff as your lips brushed softly against my ear.
“我爱你”
~*~*~
_Even though I might end up walking this road alone for a while I will show you my everything._
_Even when I close my eyes, the light that used to shine on us is still there._
_Our precious times, I’ll cherish them deeply._
_Even when the pain comes in many times those days we promised of forever I will never forget those moments until the end._
_I remember._
**Author's Note:** |
990318b48eeb46eb933d1aeb758f6599 | ['e113faeeaeb349d6bdd9799b0d74b720'] | She had screamed and hit her husband. That night, Akaashi’s step father was arrested, his grandma was put into a home, and him and his mom got in their car and drove six hours to his aunt’s house for refuge. They lived there for years. His mom was still living there, wondering where she went wrong with two failed marriages and how she hadn’t seen her husband raping her son.
“Nngh, aa-ahh,” the two guys grunted as the first one pushed in alongside his friend.
Akaashi was limp. He was too drunk, too high, too _whatever_ to feel the stretch, and burn, and sting of the two cocks pounding in and out of him. He was stuck in his fuzzy head, scrambling to pick up the pieces of the locked box that had exploded open, bringing everything to the forefront again.
“…’s hard... You like it, Keiji?... leaking everywhere… can cum…”
Akaashi closed his eyes. Was he enjoying it? He didn’t think so, but his own penis was erect and he could feel the fluid leaking from his rear, self lubricating. He felt heat explode inside of him, and the one on top pulled out and ejaculated over Akaashi’s chest.
“I thought I told you to pull out?” the first guy wheezed.
“Got a little carried away,” the guy beneath Akaashi said, laughing. His now limp cock was still inside of Akaashi. Cum was dribbling down his legs.
“Carried away my ass. Come on, pull out and let’s go. Just leave him here. Bokuto will find him eventually. Or somebody, anyways.”
The cock pulled out and Akaashi was laid down on the bed, covered in cum and naked. The two guys left the room and within seconds, Akaashi drifted into unconsciousness.
*** * ***
“Akaashi…? Hey, hey, come on, wake up. Akaashi… Keiji, what the hell happened?”
Someone was shaking him, one hand on the side of his face. Akaashi shivered violently, not wanting to wake up.
“Oikawa, go get Bokuto. He’s down in the hot tub.” The person draped something over Akaashi, as if he was a dead body at a crime scene.
Akaashi’s eyes shot open and it took him a few seconds to focus on Iwaizumi, standing above him. His hand pulled off of his face and grabbed a cloth from a bucket, squeezing water from it.
Iwaizumi began wiping sticky cum from Akaashi’s face and neck. “What happened? I don’t believe that you came up here to have some raunchy sex and didn’t clean yourself up afterwards. Who did this to you?”
Akaashi felt vomit rush up his throat and he didn’t have time to lean over the bed even before it came out.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely to Iwaizumi, who had jumped out of the way. His body felt like it had been run over by a semi, followed by a stampede of horses.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto’s voice called from the stairwell. Ten seconds later, he burst into the room and pushed Iwaizumi out of the way. “Who did this to you? I’m going to fucking kill them. Sit up, sit up before you choke on your barf. Are you bleeding? I’m going to rip their fucking head off! Let me clean you up.”
Akaashi swayed as Bokuto helped him into a sitting position. Iwaizumi handed Bokuto the towel and Oikawa handed Akaashi a glass of water. Akaashi could hear Suga’s drunken laugh from all the way downstairs. Why could Suga so easily have sex with anybody and still laugh like that? The rare times Akaashi and Bokuto did it together, Akaashi had to recollect himself for _weeks_ before he was even mildly okay with going all the way again.
Bokuto finished wiping down Akaashi’s chest and then slid his shirt back over his head, and then took off the flannel he had on over his own t-shirt, and draped it around Akaashi’s shoulders. Oikawa and Iwaizumi left the room, closing the door quietly on the way out.
Bokuto handed the cloth to Akaashi and softly said, “Here, wipe your bottom half off and I’ll look for some sweatpants or something.”
“Why?” Akaashi croaked, dazed.
Bokuto frowned. “There’s cum on the pants you were wearing.” He paused. “Did you see who did this?”
Akaashi wiped his legs and unsteadily got off the bed, choking back a whimper as he gently cleaned his back end of the dried cum. He watched Bokuto shift through the closet and tear down a pair of black sweats.
“There was two of them…” Akaashi said quietly. He let Bokuto help him into the sweatpants. “I couldn’t see them. They… They fucked me at the same time, Bokuto. One of them was named Nagi, but he left.”
“Nagi?” Bokuto clenched his jaw and put his hands on Akaashi’s face, looking him in the eye. “You stay right here. I’ll be right back, and then we’re going home. You’re coming home with me tonight. I’ll be right back.”
“Bo, don’t—“
The door slammed shut.
5. The World Won't Stop
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> \- Sugawara Koushi
> \- Recreational Drug Use
> \- Mentions Rape
> \- Use of Sex Toys
> \- Vulgar Language
> \- 2141 Words
**Collection 1**
Bokuto came thundering down the stairs, stumbling on the last few steps. Suga, seated on Daichi’s lap, blinked a few times and tilted his head. Everything had an orange hue, Bokuto included.
Bokuto was on _fire_.
“Where the fuck is Jae and Seung? Where are they?” Bokuto demanded.
Suga looked back at Daichi. Both of them recognized Seung’s name—as he was the one that they had found forcing himself onto Akaashi when they first got to the party.
“Look, man,” Daichi spoke up. “Akaashi doesn’t want you to start anything. Seung was just drunk, or whatever. He didn’t cause any harm.” | 4c4bd8f603274cf28d3c72f9156fd289 | ['e113faeeaeb349d6bdd9799b0d74b720'] | They couldn’t _know_. If they knew, they would only get _hurt_.
_Ting!_
_**Unknown** Thinking about you. Picturing your rosy lips stretched tight around my cock. _
Suga picked up his phone and threw it to the floor, picking up his desk chair and smashing one of the wheels down on the screen. He continued slamming it down on his phone until the screen was dented and shattered completely. He dropped the chair and knelt down in front of his phone, pressing the home button. The screen stayed black.
But Suga still felt like there was somebody just over his shoulder, just out of his sight.
He couldn’t go to school. As long as he was going to school, he was vulnerable. The man would always follow him, and he would be putting all of his friends at risk. But if he stayed home, he would be putting his family at risk.
His head was going to explode. A migraine was hammering against his skull and white light was flashing in front of his eyes. Suga got off the floor, rattled his window and unlocked and relocked it, and then hit the light switch harshly, encasing himself in a faded darkness.
He got into his bed, but he didn’t close his eyes. He wasn’t ever going to be able to sleep again, so long as the man was watching him. Suga stared at his broken phone, it’s dismembered corpse still laying on his floor.
Suga rolled over and peered through the cracked between his bed and the wall. He jumped, his heart stopping. The man’s face was there, grinning devilishly up at him, his eyes glinting red.
Suga scrambled off his bed and dropped to the floor, peering under the bedframe. The only thing underneath his bed was the box containing the dog toy. No human. No man. No rapist. Suga shakily got back into his bed, looking cautiously down the crack again.
And there he was. His mouth was spread too wide. His teeth were sharpened to points. The panic engulfing Suga made him sway dizzily and he got off his bed again, reaching under the bedframe and gripping it, yanking the entire bed away from the wall. He pulled his bed so it was at least two feet away from any wall.
He got back under his covers, paralyzed with fear. He didn’t let any part of his body go over the edges of the bed. He could feel the man still. The box holding the dog toy was now exposed. Suga had to get rid of it. He had to get rid of it.
He was going to vomit.
Suga got out of his bed, yet again, and grabbed the box. It felt like it weighed a million pounds. When he opened his door, Hiroko was there, her hand up in a gesture like she was about to knock.
“What’s that? What- What did you do to your room?” she asked, eyes widening as she peered around him at the toppled over chair, out of place bed, and shattered phone.
“I’m going to the dump. I’ll be right back.”
He pushed passed her.
“Koushi-!”
Suga went down the stairs and opened up the closet holding the rubbish bags. He dropped the cardboard box inside of it. Then he opened up the junk drawer and picked out a box of matches, putting it in the bag as well.
He left the house, entering the garage.
He had to get rid of it.
Suga grabbed a small canister of gasoline and carefully put it in the bag as well. Then he left the house and stepped onto the back alley behind their house. Just a few blocks down there was a metal dumpster. It was still light outside, but Suga was fine with that. If it was still bright outside, the man couldn’t sneak up on him in the darkness. Suga checked over his shoulder every minute as he trudged down the alley towards the dumpster.
When he reached it, he opened up the cardboard box, his stomach flipping as he looked at the dog toy. He poured some of the gasoline over the chew toy and let it saturate the cardboard. Then he tossed it into the dumpster and drizzled the remaining gasoline in as well.
Suga opened the box of matches and snapped one across the side, a small flame igniting. He lifted his hand over the edge and dropped the match into the garbage. Almost instantly a larger flame ignited. Suga lit another match and did the same, dropping it in another spot.
He used all of the matches but one. The last one, he lit and then held the flame underneath his wrist. The pain was white hot and he flinched away. His hands were shaking like an earthquake and the dumpster was like a bonfire now. It smelled rancid.
He put the empty box and last match in the dump as well, before walking away and cutting through someone’s property to return to the main road.
No one had seen a thing.
Except for the man, who sat in his house peering down at Sugawara through a window as the young silver haired boy ignited the dumpster. It was the man who called the fire station, reporting the fire in the dumpster.
Suga arrived home just as he heard the sirens.
**〚 16 〛**
* * *
Suga didn’t go to school that day. He got up and got ready like usual, packing his lunch and saying goodbye to his mom. But he didn’t end up at school. He took a wrong turn purposely, and made a wide loop—returning back to his house a half hour later. He unlocked the door, his mom already gone for work, and dropped his stuff in the entrance way. He locked the door once he was inside. He left the lights off. |
202c63f7c6d2471395c74c56a6ea9274 | ['e11d2a9d5d07473fafb7326150f31ed5'] |
1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END
**Author's Note:**
> I've seen a lot of fics using the prompt that Murphy bites 10k and I really wanted to write one myself, so here you go!
It started out small, unnoticeable. So unnoticeable, in fact, that maybe there wasn't anything wrong at all. But 10k was hyperaware of every slight change, so even the smallest of alterations would be picked up on.
Or so he thought. Because, in reality, while 10k plucked up observation after observation of a slight shift within his body, thinking it would mean his world would be crashing down around him- nothing was really happening at all.
He would bring these 'changes' up to the group- _My head is hurting_ \- only for it to be followed with a chorus of _Dehydration. Sleep deprivation. Starvation. Stress_.
He would try again. _My skin itches_ \- but he wouldn't get too far before another symphony sounded- _Mosquitos. Dirt. Scratchy clothing. Eczema._
For every concern 10k raised, the group had bountiful reasons as to why he was feeling them, all far less sinister than the one 10k's mind went straight to.
It became almost like a game for the others, a game of 'What Is This A Symptom Of?'. Murphy even started to count points, which made 10k snap out of his breakdown for a few seconds to kick the back of his seat.
_But what if you're wrong?_
_We're not._
No matter how many times they went through this within the drive through town, 10k was never sure. He never believed. He couldn't stop the fear creeping in his bones and stealing all logic from his brain. His brain- brains, oh god, _brains_.
He let out a shuddered breath. "I don't wanna eat brains-"
Though the boy's voice trembled with worry, he was met with more than a few chuckles. "Kid, you're not gonna start eating brains." Murphy's tone was patronizing and drawn out.
10k sat up in his seat and narrowed his eyes at the headrest in front of him. "You don't know that!"
"10k," A voice from beside him reached out and he looked over. "You'll be fine." Doc gave him a smile. "We think." He added, causing 10k's eyes to widen slightly and his brows to crease with even more tension.
"Doc quit freaking him out." Addy turned from where she sat and looked at the raven-haired boy. "Don't worry. If you start turning blue, I'll pike ya." She grinned playfully and raised her bat.
"Hey!" Murphy glared and Doc laughed.
"Addy!" Warren hissed and glanced at her. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her seat.
"You guys are making me feel worse." 10k closed his eyes and shook his head. "My heart's beating fast-"
"Anxiety!"
"Anx- Damn it, Doc, I was gonna say that!" Murphy growled and looked at the older man over his shoulder.
"You snooze, you lose, my blue pal."
While the rest of the group talked and laughed between them, 10k reverted back to silence as he looked out the dirtied window. As he stared out at the fast-moving trees, his hand unconsciously moved up until he was covering the bite mark on his shoulder. Even lightly hovering his fingers over it made the memories come flooding back to him-
_"10k WATCH OUT!"_
_He whipped around upon hearing the scream, eyes widening as he saw the herd of Z's heading toward him. This wouldn't be so worrying if it weren't for the fact he had no weapons on him._
_Looking around, he picked up a fairly large and jagged rock from the edge of the stream, testing the weight of it in his hand while the rotting corpses made their way closer to him. Just as the first was at arms length, 10k brought the rock crashing down against its head._
_One down, two to go._
_He picked up another rock, taking a step back so his feet hit the cool water. Then, he got an idea. He moved further into the shallow stream, watching the two Zombies stumble as their feet got caught on the rocks. One fell forward and face-planted the water. 10k took his opportunity and smashed its head with the rock._
_Two down, one to-_
_10k cried out as he felt pain in his shoulder. He had been bitten. Panic and adrenaline surged through him and he tried to tear himself out of the Z's grasp- out of his_ mouth _. He could faintly hear the others rushing toward him, finally, Doc had managed to find them and bring them to his aid._
_He continued to shove at the Zombie, slipping on a smooth rock and falling backwards into the stream. He hit his head harshly and gasped for air but took in a mouthful of water, frantically searching for a loose rock to use as a weapon. He couldn't find any and his vision was starting to black. He tried to breathe again, but still, no air._
_He cried out again when he felt even more pain as the Z was ripped off him, dragging its teeth across more of his skin. He was pulled out from the stream jerkily, spluttering and choking on water while trying to get air._
_He saw his saviour through blurred eyes but he didn't have enough time to register who it was who pulled him out before he felt himself being bitten again, this time near his neck. The pain with this bite was sharper and accompanied with a rush of strong, incomprehensible emotions that swept through his body._
_He gasped a last time, eyes impossibly wide, and let out a loud scream before passing out._
"10k!" He felt himself being shaken and he opened his eyes to see Warren in front of him.
"Huh? What?" He looked around and saw he was the only one left in the car.
"You fell asleep, you okay?" She rose a brow and stepped to the side, allowing 10k to get out. | 48a0516de2e14fb394e090de3f6775d3 | ['e11d2a9d5d07473fafb7326150f31ed5'] | Clearing his throat, Murphy looked away. He'd have to clean 10k's chest before he put the tank on him, so for now, 10k would have to remain shirtless. Which bugged Murphy out because he couldn't help but stare at all the bullet wounds- as well as the bite marks that 10k had. He wondered if that's how people felt toward him and his own bite marks.
Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, Murphy turned toward the door. Only, before he could open it, he froze. He couldn't feel the Zombies- and there had been at least a _dozen_ in the main room. That meant they had been mercied, and he would bet that whoever mercied them was still out there, waiting.
He pressed his ear against the door and listened- he could definitely hear someone. _"Shit,"_ He cursed quietly, turning away. Neither of them had any weapons on them and there was nothing in the room but clothes. "Damnit," He looked at 10k and stepped into his personal space, grabbing his face by the hands and looking him in the eye. "Kid, I need ya. I don't know who's out there but I'm betting that they want that bounty on us," He stared into his glazed eyes and bit his lower lip. "Come on," He pleaded.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He pushed forward, forcing himself into 10k's mind. It made both of them wince as they felt a sharp pain in their heads, but he shoved forward even more. 10k's brain was loud and choatic, tragic event on repeat everywhere he looked. He only lasted long enough for him to shout _10k_ into the void of the younger man's mind, then he was thrown out and both men fell to the floor. 10k was passed out and Murphy was on his back, head lifted so he could stare at him.
"Holy shit," He whispered before quickly getting to his feet. That bang must have notified whoever was outside because he heard footsteps coming up to the door.
Then 10k was awake and alert, gasping as he sat up and frantically looked around the room with wide, fearful eyes. When said eyes landed on Murphy, 10k let out a breath of what Murphy hoped was relief. Seconds later, he was holding his head in his hands and crying out in pain.
The next thing he knew, the door flung open and the sound of multiple guns cocking filled the small room.
8. OLD AND NEW FRIENDS
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Let me know what you think!
> I wrote this chapter quite quickly, I had a lot of fun! :)
Murphy's head whipped around to look to the door, where a man was stood holding two guns aimed at him and 10k.
Murphy slowly rose his arms and glanced over to 10k, who was still holding his head and whimpering. Murphy could feel part of the pain 10k was feeling and it made him slightly dizzy.
"Your name Murphy?" The man asked casually.
Murphy shook his head. "Uh, nope.. no Murphy here,"
" _Murphy_ -" 10k gasped out, one of his hands grabbing out to squeeze Murphy's wrist.
Murphy cursed but he didn't have time to be mad at 10k before his concern doubled in size, 10k was holding onto him so tight that it hurt.
The man rose a brow. " _Really_? And let me guess, that's not 10k." He scoffed and nodded toward 10k. "What's up with him?"
As he said that, 10k let out a pained cry and Murphy had to pry 10k's hand off of his wrist before he snapped it.
"How the hell should I know?! Who are you, anyway?"
"The name's Vasquez, I'm a bounty hunter." Vasquez lowered the gun that he had on 10k and crouched down in front of him. "Hey, kid, you hear me?"
"What are you doing?" Murphy asked warily, watching him get closer to 10k. This would be a perfect opportunity for 10k to attack Vasquez and let them escape- but Murphy couldn't get into his mind to make him do it.
"I'm gonna try to get him to shut up." Vasquez sent Murphy a glare. "I don't want anybody else finding you two, you're my prisoners."
"Hold on a second, we are not _anybody's_ prisoners," Murphy interjected.
Vasquez pressed the gun in his left hand against Murphy's head. "Shut up." He waited until Murphy nodded before he pulled the gun away, though he still kept it aimed in his direction. "10k." He snapped his fingers in front of the younger male's face. " _Hey_!"
Vasquez yelled the last part, causing 10k's body to jerk and his head to snap in his direction. Murphy could feel the secondhand pain he felt disappearing and he hoped that meant 10k's was disappearing too. He had stopped crying so he assumed that was a good thing.
10k's eyes frantically searched the strangers face, panic rising the more certain he was that he didn't know this man.
Before 10k could act on that panic, Murphy spoke up. "10k,"
His head turned toward the older man. "What's happening? How did I get here?" His voice was hoarse due to his screaming. He then turned back to face the stranger. "Who's that? Where's Warren?"
Murphy gave him a pitying look. He knew 10k hadn't been aware of his surroundings earlier but hearing just how _much_ he had lost made Murphy's chest ache.
Vasquez stood back up, ignoring all but one of 10k's questions. "I'm a bounty hunter. I'm going to collect the bounty on your heads."
That made 10k even more confused. "Bounty? What is he talking about?" 10k turned to Murphy again, looking for answers.
"You missed a lot, kid," Murphy spoke gloomily.
"Don't worry, you two will have a lot of time to catch up on the way. Come on, let's go." Vasquez raised both guns, pointing one at each of them. |
c9ddbd4df58b40a79f65c3e54da7f997 | ['e11da61bc39343418334751d160aa16e'] | **ENS.MAYWEATHER** : Lol!
**Sub.T’Pol** :I believe you’ve lost me? I did not realize humans could be imprinted upon so easily.
**Porthos’Favorite** : Yep. It’ll be that little voice in his head telling him to use common sense.
**CommsBoss** : IT JUST GETS BETTER!!! X^D
**Sub.T’Pol** : Ensign Mayweather is causing a scene on the bridge.
**Porthos’Favorite** : I’ll let it slide this time
**MajorAsshole** : Now this is just uncalled for.
~~~~~~~~~~
**CommsBoss** : Is it just me, or has the ship been quieter since the Commander boarded the Xyrillian ship?
**DR.PHLOX** : I do believe that would be because Commander Tucker is no longer conscious.
**CommsBoss** : What?
**DR.PHLOX** : The decompression process is rather stressful on organics, but you’ll be happy to know that he’ll only be out for a few hours. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard, seeing as the Xyrillians sent that transmission an hour ago.
**CommsBoss** : Oh… I, uh… might have gotten distracted while reviewing the linguistics files… again.
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : You weren’t just distracted Hoshi, you were full on vegging at your station. Lt. Reed and I were trying to get your attention when the panel lit up, but you were out!
**LT.REED** : We almost considered calling Dr. Phlox until you started murmuring about space slugs in Klingon.
**CommsBoss** : I’ll try not to let it happen again, but it’s just so quiet for a change. It’s kinda nice.
**Sub.T’Pol** : I believe that with Commander Tucker off the ship there is no one onboard to cause trouble. A welcome change from the usual.
**LT.REED** : I’ve already made it through the day’s incident reports, and not once have I seen a report about some hair-brained contraption setting off the emergency bulkheads because the power cell had been plugged in incorrectly.
**DR.PHLOX** : Ah yes, it was a miracle there weren’t any severe burns from that incident.
**Sub.T’Pol** : It never ceases to amaze me how far humanity has managed to come despite their numerous failures.
**CommsBoss** : I’d be insulted, but I can’t bring myself to deny this.
**LT.REED** : I doubt the Vulcans have never made mistakes, everyone is subject to human error.
**Sub.T’Pol** : There is a reason that it is called “human error” and not “Vulcan error”, Lieutenant.
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : 8^O
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : She went there! X^D
**CommsBoss** : Careful Lieutenant, that wit of her’s has enough firepower to throw your armory boys for a loop!
**LT.REED** : You’d better get back to work, Hoshi. The Captain’s on his way to the bridge.
**CommsBoss** : A feeble distraction, but one I’ll allow to pass. For now.
~~~~~~~~~~
**CommsBoss** is online
**CommsBoss** : What’s going on in my ship and why am I not being told about it!?!
**Porthos’Favorite** : Care to rephrase that, Ensign?
**CommsBoss** : My apologies, Captain Archer, but why are we trying to locate the Xyrillians?
**Sub.T’Pol** : @ **LT.REED** I believe I told you discretion was of the utmost importance.
**LT.REED** : It’s not my fault! This woman has the ears of a bat.
**CommsBoss** : He’s right. I could pick out the sound of a pin dropping in a room of rock filled blenders.
**CommsBoss** : Now spill the beans, Sir.
**Porthos’Favorite** : It’s classified, Hoshi. Not even Lieutenant Reed knows.
**CommsBoss** : Oh well, guess Travis and I will just have to keep on making over the top theories about it.
**LT.REED** : I have a few of my own if you two would like to exchange tales.
**CommsBoss** : The more the merrier.
~~~~~~~~~~
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : No way.
**CommsBoss** : You’ve gotta be kidding me. Malcolm! How did you possibly get so close!
**LT.REED** : Trust me, I’m just as surprised as all of you.
**MajorAsshole** : What’re y’all on about?
**CommsBoss** : Travis, Malcolm, and I started trying to guess why we were looking for the Xyrillians again, and out of all of us, Malcolm’s guess was the closest.
**MajorAsshole** : What?
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : After you went off on Dillard about the lift, we thought maybe you had gotten involved with one of the Xyrillians and they were expecting. Hoshi thought they may have contacted you about it and you decided to take custody of the child.
**CommsBoss** : When you started wearing civvies around the ship, things started getting suspicious, so we decided to interrogate the steward.
**LT.REED** : Hoshi, you bribed him with an extra comm slot to home. And you two waved me off when I even suggested this.
**CommsBoss** : Minor details.
**Sub.T’Pol** : Was there a point to this, Ensigns?
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : Yes! Lieutenant Reed totally called that it was Commander Tucker was pregnant!
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : It’s uncanny!
**CommsBoss** : This level of deduction has only been seen in works of fiction!
**MajorAsshole** : So, while I’m experiencing a personal crisis, carrying an embryonic alien inside me, y’all’re sittin’ around the campfire spreading conspiracies?
**CommsBoss** : Yes.
**ENS.MAYWEATHER** : Yup.
**LT.REED** : It was actually a torch, but yes.
**MajorAsshole** : Y’all have no shame.
**Sub.T’Pol** : Then it appears you are in good company, Commander.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed, and comments either way. Your comments, literally, motivate me to make this and I love seeing them! | 0fba5a8ad3a0415ab304d569e7d82338 | ['e11da61bc39343418334751d160aa16e'] | **Summary for the Chapter:**
> After another encounter with the Zygerrian slavers, the crew is forced to leave faster than expected. Unfortunately, just like any other day, nothing is ever that simple.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Me: I have to update the story.
> Also me: But we have so much to do. Exams are coming up, not like anyone will notice you haven't updated at all.
> Me: Fine, but I'll update once school gets out.
After getting off the roof they had found a stall in the local market willing to buy their merchandise, no questions asked. They made their purchases quick, picking up food, water, and other various supplies that could become useful on their travels. There wasn’t a lot, the supplies contained in a single pack, but it would make traveling light and easy.
He noticed the Jedi looking distractedly into the line of buildings. He looked in the same area and saw nothing save for the buildings and assorted merchants selling their goods. The man seemed to realize he was being watched, turning to focus on him, “We have to get back to the ship, we’ve been found,” he said as he grabbed his wrist, rushing him through a crowd of people and into a narrow alley.
“What do yo-,” he started before the Jedi put a hand over his mouth, shooting a look at him before turning back to the opening. Two men walked past carrying smooth Zygerrian blasters. His eyes widened, recognizing them as two of his old ‘masters’, if they had found them they had to leave. “We need to get back to the ship before they find us,” he warned, the Jedi already trailing after them.
They followed the two near the outskirts of the city where they were meeting up with another patrol. It was too late to find cover and before he could react, the Jedi had already jumped one of the four and knocked him to the ground. He was rushed by one of the others as the Jedi engaged another. He lashed a fist out, catching his opponent in the jaw, and hissing slightly as he hit one of the bone spines. Another well-placed punch to the gut sent his opponent to the ground with a grunt of pain.
He caught sight of the last man sprinting towards a speeder bike. He started for the man, running as fast as he could while carrying the large pack. He yelled for the Jedi who had downed his opponent and dashed towards the speeder. They got to it too late, the man jumping on the bike and kicking up a cloud of dust as it accelerated. He cursed as he tracked the man across the grasslands, “What do we do now?”.
“Hop on,” the Jedi responded as he got onto a second nearly identical bike, revving the engine as he stooped down to pick up a blaster. As soon as he got situated on the bike it jolted forward and he latched onto the Jedi to avoid falling off. The bike sped across the land, the golden grass and blue sky blurring together from the speed. “I see him” the Jedi yelled, his voice hard to hear over the wind, “Get ready to shoot”.
He scanned ahead of them, finding his target as they neared the fuel hub. He got him in the gun sight, hand steady as it could be while on the bike, and pulled the trigger. He scolded himself as the shot went over his head, the bike escaping past the side of the building. “I lost him” He yelled as they crossed onto the metal platforms of the hub, slowing the vehicle to a stop near the corner.
They edged around the side of the building, he spotted the ship relatively quick, a group of men standing around it almost as if they were guarding it. “They know we’re here,” he said as the man got off of the speeder bike and walked to the group around the ship, “What are we going to do?”.
The Jedi flashed him a sly grin as he walked a small distance from the hub, careful not to be seen. “How are you with heights,” He asked, his grin deepening into a flash of white teeth. He responded with a shrug, the Jedi taking that as a sign to go ahead with whatever he was planning. The Jedi lowered himself in a crouch, closed his eyes and raised his hand out in front of him. By the time he realized what was happening he felt himself become weightless, “Whatever you do,” the Jedi started calmly as his gaze returned to him, “Don’t scream too loud”.
He opened his mouth to protest when the Jedi threw his arms up, sending him flying into the sky. He hit the peak of his flight around ten feet above the metal roof of the hub and started to fall. He wrapped his arms around his chest and his arms flared with a dull pain when he impacted roughly. He propped himself up on his palms, pushing himself, and looked over the side to see the Jedi run towards the wall so fast that his body was a blur, with a well-placed jump he scaled most of the building and used the rest of his momentum to run the rest of the way up the vertical, landing next to him with a dull thud.
“I,” he huffed, “Hate… you”. He heard the Jedi chuckle behind him as he walked to the edge of the roof. He stood up and immediately started coughing, “I think I swallowed a bug,” he joked as he followed. The comment went without a response, the Jedi distractedly looking down at the landing pads below. The service droids were moving large devices over to their ship, securing them to the landing claws. |
a719bda5eb1043a2ae90ce0092567868 | ['e1315f073ee44a5cae0a693865ff27f2'] | Charlie turned the key in the ignition but nothing happened. Hermione had a moment of panic, thinking they were stuck there until the car started to silently move towards the trees. Upon closer inspection, she could see that the lights of the dashboard were lit up and Charlie was shoving a cassette tape into the stereo. He kept the volume low as Zeppelin's Fool in the Rain started playing.
“This entire area is outfitted with Muggle repelling spells. On maps, it appears as a nuclear quarantine area. But, as you will see, it will easily welcome registered witches and wizards,” Charlie explained and veered left onto a tire worn path.
In spite of the head’s up, Hermione still grasped her seat when it appeared as though Charlie was about to drive head-on into a thick Beech tree.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Charlie instructed as if he could read her mind.
Hermione willed her eyelids up and was in awe as the wall of trees parted, allowing the Range Rover to glide past, unobstructed. She twisted in her seat to watch them sweep back into place. A screech from overhead had her facing front again and craning her neck to catch a glimpse of a deep blue dragon fly past.
“A Swedish Short-Snout,” Hermione said in awe.
She had had several encounters with dragons over the years but it didn’t make the sight any less mesmerizing. Yes, she had a magic wand and could perform countless spells and went to school in a castle, but she never felt more like she was living in a real-life fairytale than when she was reminded how real dragons were.
“It never gets old, does it?” Charlie said.
Damn, the man really could read her mind.
“When did you become a Legilimens?” Hermione asked, settling back in her seat.
“It’s been a while. People change a lot in six years.”
Hermione didn’t know what to say to that so she stared straight ahead, avoiding Charlie’s sideways glances. She knew she had to talk to him but she was hoping to postpone it a bit longer. The silence was starting to get overwhelming and Hermione desperately searched her brain for a safe topic of conversation. It ended up landing on Charlie’s bandaged forearm.
“Reflexes not what they once were?” Hermione commented, nodding at his arm.
Charlie laughed and shook his head. “Nah, just had a moment of overconfidence with our newest resident. Let my guard down during a physical and the little bugger bit me.”
“Is this the dragon I’ve been brought in to help with?”
“That would be the one. We’ll be seeing her shortly.”
The Rover silently trundled on over the path. Most of the area was a clear open field, nothing like the dense forest that the entrance had alluded to. Miles in the distance were towering mountains. Their destination appeared to be a copse of trees that were sheltering wood cabins. Charlie slowed down and parked at the end of a line five Rovers.
“If you want to go anywhere on the reserve you either need to drive or walk. “We have silencing spells on all the Rovers so that the engines don’t startle the dragons,” Charlie explained as he hopped out. He levitated her suitcase from the back and brought it to hover by his side. “There are silencing spells on all the Rovers so that the engines don’t startle the dragons and there are anti-apparition spells cloaking the entire area. This means that no unauthorized people can sneak in and it saves everyone here from accidentally apparating onto a sleeping dragon.”
“I can imagine the dragons would not take too kindly to that,” Hermione said with a grimace.
“You will be staying in my cabin,” Charlie said, motioning for Hermione to follow him.
“Oh...where will you be staying?” Hermione asked as she jogged to catch up.
“Also in my cabin.”
She could only see the back of his head, but Hermione knew there was a smug grin on his face. Why wasn’t she alerted to the sleeping arrangements beforehand?
“I don’t want to crowd you out of your place. I can just set up a tent for the next week or so,” Hermione suggested.
“Relax, Hermione. It’s not like we’ll be sharing a bed. You’ll have your own room, away from me. Just the way you prefer.”
Hermione stopped, letting Charlie continue on. His words hurt, like a slap across the face. She didn’t prefer it that way!
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione called out, making Charlie stop and turn.
His face held no sign of a smug grin as he strode back to her, breaking the hovering spell and letting her suitcase drop to the earth with a thud.
“You know what it means,” he said calmly. “I know you’ve been avoiding me for the last six years, no matter how many times Harry and Ginny make lame excuses for your absences at dinners and parties. If that’s the arrangement you want, fine. You can go back to pretending that I don’t exist once this is all wrapped up. I just thought I’d let you know that I’m well aware of your feelings towards me and you don’t need to worry about any unwanted advances while you’re here.”
With that, Charlie levitated her suitcase once again and continued his trek to the cabins. Hermione followed slowly, keeping a respectable distance between them. As he pointed out the bathrooms and cafeteria and labs, she only half paid attention. It felt like for a brief moment she had switched viewpoints and got a glimpse of what Charlie had been experiencing in her absence.
* * *
“Good girl,” Hermione cooed, running her hand over the baby dragon’s head. The light blue youngling tried to let out a screech but only ended up emitting several sparks that hit Hermione’s shoulder and left singed holes in her brown, khaki button up. “Don’t worry, you’ll find your voice soon, I’m sure.” | d3c30f6ac51a47d79a43576c9b8a2bd9 | ['e1315f073ee44a5cae0a693865ff27f2'] | Draco was cut short when his chocolate frog took an unexpected leap onto Hermione’s face. She reached up and peeled it off, holding it out to Draco as the chocolate started to harden.
He took it back, breaking a piece off for her. “He must have gotten an extra strong spell. Usually, they’re only able to bounce for a second or two in the box.
Hermione giggled and shook her head. They ate their chocolate in content silence. Once Draco had finished his, he moved the basket to the floor and stretched out on the bed.
“Are you upset that I messed with your file?” Hermione asked, staring up at the ceiling.
“Hermione, you saved my life. I was prepared to rot half of my years away in Azkaban. Instead, they sentenced me to a few years in the Ministry and my mother to a year of house arrest. It was more than I ever could have hoped for so...thank you.”
Draco paused for a moment and chanced a sideways glance. Hermione’s eyelids were drooping and if he was going to get rid of the weight he’d been carrying around for a month, now was the time. He didn’t know if he’d get her alone again and Merlin knew he wouldn’t say it in front of Harry and Ginny.
“And, I’m sorry,” Draco whispered.
“For what?” Hermione asked, sleepily.
“For all the shit I put you through in school, like that stupid tooth growing hex.”
Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “A blessing in disguise. It let me get rid of those horrid buck teeth that my parents insisted ‘gave me character’. As long as we’re apologizing for past transgressions though, I’m sorry I punched you in third year.”
“Don’t be,” Draco said, shooting her a devilish smirk as he tucked his hands under his head. “That’s how I realized I like being smacked around by strong women.”
She let out a sleepy laugh and reached her hand out to him. “All past sins forgiven?”
Draco took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.
“Forgiven.”
He went to pull his hand away, but Hermione didn’t let go. A soft snore signaled that she had already fallen asleep. Draco rolled onto his side and let their hands settle onto the mattress before giving his own tired eyes some respite.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
“Hermione? Are you listening?”
Hermione’s head whipped up at the sound of her best friend shouting her name. She found Ginny standing directly across the table from her, the expression on her face caught somewhere between worried and irritated.
“I’m sorry Gin, I wasn’t,” Hermione admitted with a sigh, pushing her inappropriate Draco daydream to the back of her mind. With a swish of her wand, a silver lid appeared over the platter of sandwich fixings and a tap surrounded it with a cooling charm. “What were you saying?”
“Were you able to get it?” Ginny asked.
“Oh, yes, I put it over with the others. Does Harry have any idea what you’ve set up?”
“Not a clue,” Ginny said, grinning and clutching her hands in front of her. She looked as giddy as a child eyeing up their Christmas gifts. “And is it ever driving him mental! Our special guests should be arriving any moment.”
No sooner had the words left Ginny’s lips when a blue light erupted several meters away. Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, and Dean Thomas had just been portkeyed to midfield of the Holyhead Harpies’ grounds and were striding across the pitch, each one carrying a broomstick and shouting out greetings.
Ginny had had a last minute idea to skip a formal rehearsal dinner and instead surprise her soon-to-be husband with a Quidditch match. Apparently, Harry had been talking a lot lately about missing his Hogwarts Quidditch days. So she had gotten permission to use the Harpies’ stadium and secretly invited several of his old schoolmates to join in.
“Where’s Seamus?” Ginny asked, wrapping Dean in a hug.
“He’s sick and I made him stay home,” Dean explained. “He wanted me to let you know that he wanted to come but his husband is a stubborn bastard and won’t let him have any fun.” Dean sighed and shook his head. “I apologize for being a stubborn bastard, but I didn’t think anyone else needed to witness his vomiting.”
After he and Ginny had broken up, Dean came to a few realizations about who he actually wanted to share his life with. He and Seamus Finnigan married the previous year and were now anxiously awaiting approval to adopt an eight-month-old little boy.
“I think everything is ready,” Luna called, from behind.
Hermione turned back to the table and let her gaze sweep over the potluck dishes adorning it. Molly and Arthur were placing covers on the last few dishes, along with warming or cooling spells. Fleur was blocking Victoire and Freddy from devouring the entire plate of strawberries. Gwenog, Alicia, and Angelina were sat together, polishing their own brooms while they chatted about Quidditch.
“Great! We just need the guys now.” Ginny glanced at her watch. “Five more minutes. Hopefully, they all got their butts to the cottage on time.”
Hermione nervously chewed on her bottom lip. That morning with Draco had been slightly awkward, in that it hadn’t felt awkward at all. She had woken up slowly, still fully clothed, snuggled against his side. Her stirring had roused him awake and he simply pulled her closer as he yawned and stretched his legs.
They had taken their time rolling out of bed and down to the kitchen, not saying much at all, just content with the other’s company. Harry and Ginny came down as they were eating breakfast and, aside from some few curious side-eyed glances, just sat down and joined them for breakfast like it was an everyday, normal occurrence. |
2dabc715cdfb4429968cd726714e1ea9 | ['e14023552d0c48099e99768dd72a9806'] |
New World
**Author's Note:**
> The advert is a quote from Anaïs Nin. Braxas' first spoken line comes from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ , Chapter 6.
“Your clothes are too tight, brasser!”
Ron stopped fussing with his hair mid-comb and glared at the mirror. “Piss off,” he grumbled, cursing himself for perhaps the hundredth time that he’d allowed his mum to cast ‘just a few useful household charms, dear’ about his flat.
He was on edge enough as it was. The last thing he needed right then was to be insulted by a mirror.
After he had managed to tame his hair somewhat, Ron placed the comb on the counter and peered at his reflection critically. Maybe he should have let Ginny trim his hair yesterday. It was so long now that in a matter of days it could undoubtedly be called ‘shaggy’; the ends curled slightly against the nape of his neck and spilled over his collar. His eyes were too plain – boring blue; his nose was a shade too long, his freckles were too numerous; his lips were maybe a bit bigger than a bloke’s ought to be; and he wasn’t as fit as… lots of people.
“Merlin’s beard, this is a disaster,” he moaned, sinking down to sit atop the loo. “What was I thinking?”
Just a few minutes ago he had been a bundle of nerves but also excited by what the evening would bring. Now he was just a bundle of nerves – and very much second-guessing himself.
Leaning back against the porcelain, Ron tilted his head so he could stare up at the mirror. Stare right _through_ the mirror, actually. There were too many thoughts whirling about in his head for him to properly focus on his reflection any longer. Tonight could very well be a disaster. Maybe he ought to just stay in, be the stander-upper for once instead of the stood-upee.
He sighed and straightened, his eyes consequently falling upon a small bit of printed parchment Spellotaped in the upper right-hand corner of the mirror.
_Each friend represents a world in us,_
a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
That was all the advert said. That, plus an owl box number.
It had been the smallest, plainest advert in the section labelled WIZARD SEEKING WIZARD in the _Daily Prophet_ several weeks ago. Just as soon as he had flipped to the Personals section, Ron had almost flipped right back. A good number of the adverts were charmed to shoot sparks or call out all seductive-like to readers and were, quite frankly, dead frightening. Only one advert lacked fancy sparks and booming voices promising a ‘wicked good time’.
Ron barely skimmed the _Prophet_ for news these days, so he didn’t really know what had possessed him to flip back to the Personals section. Maybe it was because Hermione and Viktor were about to have their second child while he didn’t have anyone with whom he could start the family he so desperately wanted. Maybe it was because Ginny and Harry had taken to ribbing him lately about turning into an old maid. Either way, something about that advert called to Ron. He read it twice and hadn’t been able to resist sending Pig off with a note to the owl box. A new world sounded like just the place for him.
A new world.
Considering how fucked up the Wizarding world still was after the war, Ron could stand for a new world. Things were better than they had been just after the war, but on the whole things were still pear-shaped, especially when compared to how things had been prior to that big messy final battle.
Upon the second reading of the advert, Ron had got out his parchment and quill and ink and dashed off a note. Then he re-read it, decided it was crap, crumbled it up, tossed it in the fireplace, and started anew. He re-read _that_ note, decided it was crap, crumbled it up, tossed it in the fireplace, and started anew. This went on until he had written and rejected eleven notes.
The twelfth had been the keeper. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was he, so Ron decided just to be honest.
_**Hullo,** _
_**My name’s Bilius. I’m twenty-seven and I’m not sure what else you’d like to know. I saw your advert in the _Daily Prophet_. I don’t even _like_ the _Daily Prophet_ , but I liked what you had to write. It said something to me. Right.** _
_**So, return post if you like. I’ve a box at Master Pratham’s Owl Post. Number 1542.** _
_Bilius_
Well, mostly honest.
Ron didn’t really consider using his middle name _lying_. A new world meant new things, and why couldn’t he maybe shed his old Ron skin for something new, different? Besides, if the bloke actually owled him back, they arranged to meet, and he turned out to be some barmpot, he wouldn’t actually know Ron’s real identity. It made perfect sense to sign the post as Bilius.
A week and a half passed with no owl, and Ron was vaguely puzzled when Pig returned from Master Pratham’s Owl Post with personal post in a slim envelope bearing his name in an elegant, slanted hand in addition to various bills. He’d nearly forgot that he’d replied to the advert until he opened the post.
The letter was written on thin parchment watermarked with dragon’s breath in that same hand, and Ron felt a tingle of excitement deep down inside as his eyes skimmed the page. He stared at the signature for a long while before carefully replacing the post back in the envelope, then tucked it into a trunk for safe keeping. | a376d8aea9934dc6a8b63527b83a5870 | ['e14023552d0c48099e99768dd72a9806'] | The words are barely out of Harry's mouth before he is moved to face forward. Snape's hands are large and strong and unforgiving; fingers dig so deeply into Harry's wrists that he will bear the mark of Snape for weeks to come. He is trapped yet again, against the wall and the dresser and beneath Snape's body. Snape's hands are on either side of his head and his chest is against Harry's and his hips--
Harry doesn't want to think about Snape's hips. Certainly he doesn't want to think about they are pressed up against his and how -- _Oh God_.
He doesn't want to think about how he can feel something hard against his thigh. Something hard and long and identifiable as Snape's cock.
He doesn't want to think about it, but it's there and he can't ignore it, so he doesn't even try. Besides, it's hard to ignore something like that, especially when his own cock is twitching in... Sympathy? Interest?
Harry can't decide, nor does he want to even think on it. Snape's cock is _there_ and--
Almost of their own volition, Harry's hips lift up and against Snape's to grind slow and hard. There is an audible _hiss_ and Harry doesn't know who made the noise.
Snape's nostrils are flaring but he says and does nothing, just stares down at Harry in that condescending way he always has, and Harry loathes him even more just then. Harry loathes him and what he did and what - and who - he stands for, but that doesn't stop him from twisting his hips again and digging just a little more into him.
_Yes._
It has been so long since that day at the lake with Ginny, a lifetime ago, really. He is a teenaged boy and he has needs and _fuck_.
He loathes Snape and is ashamed of himself and ~~If Snape is here, Malfoy can't be far behind....~~ he can't--
"You won't stay silent for long," Snape finally says, leaning in so that his crooked, overly-large nose bumps against Harry's. The words send a shiver down his spine and he can feel his rationale, his sense of right and wrong, his _everything_ slip away as greasy hair brushes against his cheek and propriety is lost.
Mirroring Snape's earlier actions, Harry's hand fists in his hair to pull the other man down to him. Not quite all the way, but close enough so that he can smell Snape's breath, warm and sour and stale, as it rolls off his lips. Snape is so close that Harry can see individual eyelashes, can see the impatience and disgust flashing in those dark eyes. Harry can see these things yet he doesn't make a move. If Snape is waiting for Harry to save him, he will find himself waiting forever. Harry refuses to be his savior, to be his enemy, to be his victim. Harry will not be anything but his equal, because that is what he is now. No longer are they professor and student or light and dark. They are equal, and Harry knows this is so when Snape's mouth, firm and demanding and intoxicating, meets his for the first time. Snape is dominant, but Harry will not submit. Harry will not submit, and so he breathes in and then opens his mouth wider to allow Snape's tongue entrance. It is only allowed entrance briefly because a false sense of security is a beautiful thing. If there was one thing that being essentially stalked by Voldemort all these years has taught Harry, it is that. Snape's tongue runs along the ridges on the roof of his mouth and then Harry's tongue pushes Snape's back into his own mouth before following it home. Sweeping, circling, tracing, flicking, _commanding_.
Snape's fingers are at his cheeks then, pushing him back so quickly and so harshly that his head slams against stone. Pain lights up within and he groans, seeing a mad crazyquilt of colours before his eyes. His groan turns into a soft cry when those same hands palm the tent in his trousers and he's undoing the zip before Snape even tells him to do it. He doesn't want this but he does and it's all one enormous mess, pear-shaped beyond all reason, and Harry can't be reasonable any longer.
Besides, it's hard to be reasonable when someone is--
Yes, the stone is cold against his face again and, _yes_ , that is a--
"Tell me what this is," Snape says against his hair.
Harry's eyes dart to the right and he can see a small crystal bottle containing a strange silvery-white substance.
"Memory," he gasps, whimpering as a well-placed knee in the arse drives him against the wall cock-first.
"Very astute," Snape sneers, unstoppering it. He lets up the pressure on Harry, who turns enough so that he can see what his old Potions Master is doing.
"Last summer," he says conversationally, tipping the bottle this-way and that, "Narcissa Malfoy came to see me about her son. It seemed the boy was ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore or...I'm fairly certain even an imbecile such as yourself could assume what the consequences for failure would be, Potter." Harry's jaw set and his eyes watched as the substance swirled inside the bottle. "An agreement was reached and I, as friend to Lucius Malfoy, took part in an Unbreakable Vow to protect the boy. Naturally I spoke with Dumbledore about the matter during the first opportunity I had, and..."
While he had been speaking and fiddling with the bottle in one hand, Snape worked on unfastinging his fly with the other. Harry could see that his cock was straining against his y-fronts and he wasn't entirely sure what the bottle had to do with anything before it was too late. |
837f18f192cb49698401db7249083833 | ['e140bc840906485597d927e71ec3d966'] | And Stiles is chewing on his own sore lower lip, too engrossed in how they look, how they’re both looking. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding back sounds until something high and kittenish slips past. Derek’s eyes snap to his and- it’s intimate and intense and _god_ , what the fuck is wrong with them. This isn’t going to last long; Stiles is already at that knife edge waiting for the white-out to cut in. The look on Derek’s face - his hair damp with sweat, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his mouth parted slightly and the tension across his brow – is enough to start a fire at the base of Stiles’ spine. It’s vicious and consuming.
He’s aware he’s talking again. Nonsense mostly, but he keeps his mouth moving in the shape of compliments and confessions, lets it all out until Derek sticks two fingers between his lips, pressing down hard against his tongue, so Stiles stops talking and starts sucking. Hard. Derek makes a noise Stiles never thought he’d hear from him; a restless whine that sounds almost pained, the movement of his hips starts faltering, knuckles white and sharp where his other hand has twisted into the bed sheets.
Derek removes his fingers from Stiles’ mouth, hand scrubbing up cheek and into his hair, digits spreading over his scalp to hold Stiles in place. He’s locked down; his field of vision narrowed to Derek’s green eyes. Stiles is seconds from coming; he can’t believe he’s held off this long. He briefly wishes they could take their time and make it last – but right now foreplay seems like an impossibly complicated task. He tells Derek this as he tightens his hold on their cocks.
“It’s all been foreplay,” Derek gasps. The sentence is garbled and broken and he sounds so _young_ , younger than Stiles even. “all…all of it… I don’t kn-” he breaks off to moan through a particularly long thrust, “It’s always been about this for you…for me…”
Even now, teetering at the edge the way he is, Stiles feels like Derek’s spelt out something that’s been bothering him for- well. That’s too complicated. So Stiles just breaths out a “fuck yes”, which drifts away with all the other sounds in the room as all sensations begin to blend. The harsh rasp of their breathing, the rough friction of Derek’s cock against his, and the pull, burn, stretch in his muscles – it all melds into one long column of pleasure running the length of his body so good it makes his vision swim. Then Derek bites down, blunt but hard on the hinge of Stiles’ jaw and they’re both coming, long and messy all over each other. Derek shudders and collapses on top of him, mouth twitching against the curve of Stiles’ neck while Stiles gasps harshly for air, loud and obnoxious. Synchronicity. It’s a beautiful thing.
For a long while they just lay and breathe, limbs jumping through the aftershocks. They’re both sticky with come, sweat and saliva but Stiles can’t make himself care.
He’s starting to shiver when Derek manhandles him under the covers and pulls them up to his throat. The mess on his stomach smears all over the comforter but it doesn’t matter. Derek doesn’t climb in though. He swings his legs onto the floor and sits with his back to Stiles.
Of course, that wary tension is already leaking back into Derek’s shoulders. Filling him up. He keeps looking at the window in a way that’s borderline twitchy. The mix of self-loathing and guilt is swift, familiar but unwanted.
“You said it’s always been about this...you and me,” Stiles prods when Derek is still sitting there a minute or more later.
Derek stands up, pulls on his jeans. “What are you talking about?” he mutters. Stiles pushes himself up onto his elbows and watches Derek fishes around on the floor for his shirt.
“It’s just that-”
But Stiles already understands the futility of pushing this. Derek’s clearly not ready for this conversation. Stiles isn’t either. He’s still too fucking angry and yes, terrified. About everything.
“Look,” he continues after a breath, “Just come back sometime okay? People keep looking at me like I’m gonna to implode. My dad, Lydia, Ms Morrell…even Scott now. I’m fine when I’m distracted. It’s really fucking noisy the rest of the time but, you know, when I have something different to focus on, something simple-”
“What’s any of that got to do with me?”
Derek is trying to keep his expression schooled. He’s _trying_ to look like he’s done and bored and has no idea why he’s in a teenager’s bedroom at three in the morning – like he isn’t as helpless to all this as Stiles is.
For Stiles it’s all _Derek, Derek, Derek_ all the time. He’s eclipsed everything else.
And if it isn’t Derek all the time…if it’s just Stiles…then…
“You’re a great distraction,” Stiles says, and stretches back against the pillow. Derek lifts an eyebrow. Stiles grins. | 308aeca0c0e941e68dd9bc65d8873cd3 | ['e140bc840906485597d927e71ec3d966'] | You never forget how to ride a bike
When Stiles had been given the chance to decorate his room ( _‘Yes really, any color you want’_ – His dad’s way of saying, _‘I can’t talk about your mom yet.’_ ) he’d immediately picked _Cornflower Blue_ and outfitted the room with chrome. A chrome articulated desk-lamp, a desk with chrome legs, a chrome bed frame and one of those chrome spidery chandelier affairs that used halogen light bulbs.
To Stiles at fourteen it had seemed adult and modern but also, secretly, a bit like a space station.
(Sure, it only stayed classy for about a month and then Stiles was throwing up band posters and glow in the dark decals, but he’d had good intentions.)
The problem with fancy looking chrome-spidery-chandeliers is that the halogen light bulbs lasted about a week before they blew.
Within the space of six weeks all of them had died a death and with his dad working all hours and Stiles knowing that the combination of him and stepladders usually lead to late nights spent in the ER…well he still had a desk-lamp. That was enough to see by. To do homework by.
He kept forgetting though; kept walking into his room and throwing his hand against the light switch expecting something to happen that never did. After a few weeks he got used to it and would ghost his hand over the switch on occasion, but would catch himself before pressing down.
Then the sheriff had been forced on vacation by Harriet (we _can cope without you for four days John. Seriously – go home!_ ) and had changed the bulbs to sturdier energy saving alternatives while also getting started on fixing the kitchen cabinets are still hanging off their hinges three years later.
And so Stiles had to relearn to switch the light on. Had to see the dust settling over his books and the figurines of _Master Chief_ and _Solid Snake_. Had to stop throwing his dirty clothes into dark corners because they weren’t dark anymore. Had to notice the smudge of Cornflower Blue his dad had left on the skirting board near the door.
People say things like; _‘You never forget how to ride a bike.’_
That’s bullshit. Of course you do…you just relearn quick is all.
* * *
Derek’s hand stills against his scalp, surprised by the noise. A whine – something childish. Stiles curses himself a little, shifting his bandaged arm tighter against his chest.
When it feels like Derek isn’t going to continue his exploration of Stiles’ newly long hair –blunt nails scraping symbols, words or maybe nonsense over the crown of his head and behind his ears – he presses his head back into the palm more firmly. Asking. After a careful minute (because Derek is always too fucking careful) the fingers in his hair resume their migration over and around his skull. It’s firmer than before, like his hands are asking questions. Like this is a _dialogue_.
“My mom,” Stiles starts, trying to swallow the tight knot of emotion sitting pretty in his throat, “she used to play with my hair when we watched TV. I’d forgotten.”
“Okay,” Derek says. Then, “Do you like it?”
Stiles doesn’t nod because that might shake off Derek’s hand; might dislodge the thumb that’s pressing against his nape with warm pressure. Derek gets scared off too easily sometimes – a stray hand gesture can have him bolting. So Stiles closes his eyes, breathes out through his nose and says, “Yeah.”
“Laura used to make me play those clapping games with her. Like _Patty Cake_. Or the one about Cinderella. I’m sure a couple of them were about bubonic plague. She’d use her claws when I didn’t do it quick enough.”
Stiles bites his lip to stop the giggles but Derek must feel them vibrating through his shoulders because the hand curved over his skull tightens just a little.
“I’m not gonna play _Patty Cake_ with you, dude. With my coordination you’d probably lose an eye.”
The amused huff of air over his ear makes him shiver. It’s nice. It’s something new.
**Author's Note:**
> Yeah...I don't know either. |
b3b270fa8c78475ca7815ddbbfcc5af6 | ['e14251b08de642bcbd8edd7f7adb87e9'] | While the other four stand frozen in shock, Luna runs to Hermione and wraps her up in a hug, saying, “I already knew that. The wrackspurts get confused by your feminizing potions.”
Ginny is the next to unfreeze, joining the hug and whispering, “I will die before I let them make you live in the same room as my brother. No one deserves that.” Hermione chuckles a bit at that.
“I don’t really understand it, but I can’t see you as a boy. You’re too, um, chesty for that,” Harry says awkwardly.
“A lot of old pureblood families had wizards born as witches or vice versa. It’s generally accepted in the wizarding world, especially by the more traditional families,” Neville informs her.
Finally, everyone looks to Ron expectantly. “How are you lot so bloody calm about this? This...thing just told us it’s been pretending to be a girl for ten years and tricked fucking everybody it’s ever met! I don’t want it in my dormitory, and I’m sure as hell not letting it back in with the girls. God knows what it might do to them!”
“Ron...you’re known me since we were eleven...” Hermione whispers.
“Thought I did. You had me right fooled. Don’t come near me again. And stay away from my sister, I don’t want your pervertedness influencing her.”
Later that evening, after a staff meeting called by Dumbledore seemingly out of nowhere, Severus Snape sat in his quarters staring at the fireplace, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years bubbling up inside him. He felt as if he was back in Cokeworth being yelled at by his father for accidentally burning his Easter Sunday dress. He felt a phantom ache where his father’s belt would hit as he would be beaten for not being a girl. Tears began to run down his face as the thought of Dumbledore, who had saved him, to whom he owed many a life debt, to whom he was sworn in service, being just like Tobias Snape.
Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Harry slept in the Room of Requirement that evening. They’d missed supper and thus Dumbledore’s announcement, but Dobby brought them all their favourite foods so they didn’t go without. The next morning they were all hesitant to leave the safety of that room. They had to go to class, though. Hermione sighed and asked the room for a boy’s uniform in her size.
Once they were all dressed, Hermione in her boys’ uniform, Harry and Hermione headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts while Ginny and Luna went off to their classes. They’d eaten breakfast in the room, trying to prolong the time until they had to see other students.
“Miss...ter Granger,” Severus tried not to cringe, “Mister Potter, you two are late for class. You will each have detention. Granger, you will serve your detention with me, Potter, you will be assisting Professor Slughorn.”
All throughout the lesson, when forced to address Hermione directly, Severus avoided using a title at all, knowing how bad it feels to be misgendered and guessing she’d be dealing with enough of that in the days to come without him adding to it.
“That arsehole! Assigning us detention for being a whole minute late to class! I hope he doesn’t give you too hard a time about the girl thing, Hermione. If he does I might just actually kill him,” Harry ranted as they walked to lunch.
“Did you notice he called me ‘Granger’ the whole time except at the very beginning, though? Not Mister Granger, just Granger?” Hermione pointed out, reluctant to go along with Harry’s hatred of Snape.
“Hermione, I know you’re determined to see good in Snape, but I just can’t see it. By the way did you notice Draco Malfoy staring at you all through class? What was that all about?”
“No, I didn’t, and I think you’re becoming a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. Are you still following him around the school?”
Harry’s silence was all the answer Hermione needed.
“Harry, I’m sure Malfoy’s not up to anything more nefarious than usual,” Hermione said and jumped as she heard a drawling voice behind her.
“Of course I’m not. By the way, Granger, despite your blood status my father is appalled at the treatment Dumbledore is giving you and it seems as if many of the old pureblood families are in agreement. I daresay if you were to file a complaint, the old bat might find himself in quite a predicament,” Draco Malfoy said lowly so only Hermione and Harry could hear before walking off with a parting call of, “Afternoon Potty, Granger.”
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Okay, so as the tags suggest this is a slow burn between Hermione and Severus. Right now she still only sees him as a professor and he still only sees her as a student. That will slowly begin to change, and the start is in this chapter. Also, we get a hint of what the actual plot of this story is (Surprise! It's not just a romance!).
>
> McGonagall is a bit OOC but I'm not very good at writing her so I tried my best. I hope I did Severus Snape justice with my writing his dialogue. I personally don't like the movies and don't picture Alan Rickman when I think of Snape, so you may not like the way I write his dialogue. I think when he's not in his teacher persona he'd be a lot more talkative.
“Her...I mean Liam, why haven’t you transfigured your badger yet?” Minerva McGonagall asked, looking at the student who, for the past six years, she had come to know and love as Hermione Granger. Minerva was not a sheep, and she would not follow blindly Dumbledore’s prejudice, but she had to bide her time and keep up appearances in the meantime. | 7bc75aba1c2444cab2bce2c511609e95 | ['e14251b08de642bcbd8edd7f7adb87e9'] | He burst into the room, and Ginny looked from his panicked state to the ferret in his hands and let out a groan. “Is that...Malfoy?” she asked, and Harry sighed.
“I honestly don’t know. I mean, he made a little ferrety noise when I asked if he was, so I think so, but I didn’t see him turned into a ferret but I’m pretty sure this is Draco. I don’t know how to turn him back,” Harry said desperately, a few tears threatening to fall.
Ginny walked over and wrapped her arm around him, leading him to sit on a sofa. “Have you tried a finite?” she asked.
Harry suddenly felt very stupid. He should’ve tried that. He sat the ferret next to him on the sofa and pointed his wand at it. “Finite incantatem,” he incanted, and suddenly a very annoyed Draco Malfoy was sat where moments before had been a ferret.
Draco wanted to cry. He’d been a bloody ferret all morning, ever since the fucking Weasel had turned him on his way to breakfast. He finally found Potter, thinking the moron would at least have the brains to cast a finite on him when he found him, but no, Potter had to carry him halfway across the fucking castle before the Weaselette could remind him of a bloody first-year spell.
He felt an arm hesitantly wrap around his shoulders and looked up to see Potter staring at him, appearing concerned. “Alright, Malfoy?” Harry asked, the usual mocking tone in their interactions nowhere to be found.
Draco nodded, leaning into Harry’s side and burying his face in the shirt of the Boy-Who-Lived, proceeding to ruin it with tears. Living an entire six hours as a ferret had been a harrowing experience, one he never wished to repeat, and he let out all the anger he felt at the involuntary transformation, the helplessness of being a small animal, the terror of being nearly stepped on, the frustration over lack of thumbs, all of it poured out through his eyes into the soft cotton of the Gryffindor’s shirt.
Ginny allowed the blonde boy to cry himself out and get control of his emotions before turning to fact the two boys on the sofa. “Now that we’ve all let out emotions out, I think we all need to have a nice discussion about our feelings,” she said wickedly. “Harry, you obviously still haven’t taken my advice from our last talk. Malfoy, this isn’t your fault, but it still involves you so I’m including you in this discussion.”
The two boys looked up at the ginger girl in shock. Malfoy wiped his face on his sleeve, then they both fixed their eyes on the flagstone floor as if it contained the answers to every question in the world as Ginny began to berate them for having yet to become a couple.
Hermione paused after opening the door. “Is this a bad time?” she asked Ginny. Ginny looked as if she’d been ranting a while, and both Harry and Draco were shaking and pale.
“No, it’s fine. I was just explaining to these two dunderheads how fucking ridiculous they’ve been about their mutual attraction. Harry, Draco, you may leave now,” Ginny said with the air of one granting a great privilege.
Harry and Draco left the room very quickly as Hermione went to the closet the room had made for her and began putting together outfits. She found enough clothes for her entire stay with Severus, both Muggle and Wizarding, then looked surreptitiously at the box stuffed into the corner. It couldn’t hurt to pack some of it, right? She knew that packing lingerie was simply wishful thinking, but that didn’t stop her from including a white lace bra and panty set among her more sensible cotton underthings.
On the Hogwarts Express, Luna, Harry, Ginny, Draco, and Hermione shared a compartment, speaking freely among themselves about Hermione’s idea for a third faction in the war. Harry and Draco were sitting quite closely together, Hermione noticed, though she didn’t comment on it. It was about time those two came to their senses.
Ginny suggested that Severus and Hermione stop by the Burrow at some point during the week to try to recruit a few Weasleys; thought Fred, George, and Ginny were firmly on board and Ronald firmly against the faction led by Hermione she thought Charlie, Bill, or her parents might be interested in joining, an idea that Hermione decided she would share with Severus once she arrived.
Hermione spent the ride nervous in the back of her mind about spending a week alone with Severus. She was sure she’d do something wrong and he’d learn about her attraction to him, and then he’d be disgusted with her. Not only did he most likely still see her as an insufferable know-it-all and a child, there was the matter of her unique situation. Though Severus had demonstrated unwavering acceptance for Hermione’s state as transsexual, she had it on good authority (that authority being Harry during his “I’m-dating-Malfoy” conversation) that “liking cock makes a bloke gay, obviously”, and she couldn’t change the fact that she very much had one of those, and she doubted very much that Severus would want anything to do with it, even if by some miracle he did return her feelings.
“What are you thinking about so intensely, Hermione?” Draco asked, about an hour outside of London.
She blushed but managed to cheekily reply, “My penis,” causing everyone in the compartment to laugh. She smiled. She wished everyone were as accepting as these four friends she’d grown to consider her chosen family. Her worries about Severus and her confusing feelings toward him were forgotten for the rest of the journey.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Wow! Hermione finally realized that she has feelings for Severus. Don't worry, it's still going to be a while before they get together, but now we get to the mutual pining part of the slow burn *laughs evilly*. Also, we're getting closer to that M rating...
>
> As always, comments and kudos mean the world to me, and I eagerly await your responses to this chapter. |
18eb0b1b77454de2b2d0adbf9cd0b51e | ['e14b06c049094e00948e67f0f8440cd8'] | “What about you Sam? What is your beef with him.” Bruce asked
“I guess I am not really sure, I mean yeah I didn’t like him at first, but after everything that happened in Wakanda and after I started to like him.” Sam said
“Babe it’s ok you can tell them.” Rhodey said as Sam looked down.
“It was after we came home, and I saw the shape that Rod was in and even though it was my fault as well I blamed him, if not for the fight at the airport Rod wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Sam said as he laid his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Wow, I am sorry that I played a part in that as well, but to put the blame solely on Bucky wasn’t right. I was the one who fired the shot that missed you and hit Rhodey.” Vision said
“And I guess my problem is that Tony could so easily forgive him for the murder of his parents, but it was like he forgot he was the reason I that I couldn’t walk. It was like after he gave me my new legs that abled me to walk, he brought Steve home who brought Bucky and I was still pissed.” Rhodey said as they all sat around the room talking when they heard the familiar sounds of the Jet firing up.
“Friday what’s going on who is in the Jet?” Sam asked
“Clint, Wanda and Steve left a video for you.” Friday as she played it.
“Guys Steve is pretty upset over the break-up, so Wanda and I are taking him away I have a com with me and our equipment if you need us.” Clint said as the video ended.
“So were screwed if anything happens, were with out Cap, Iron Man, Hawkeye and Witch.” Sam said
“Well Vis is as good as Cap and Witch, and I am no Iron Man but close to it.” Rhodey said
“Well I guess we’ll have to keep a watchful eye on everything.” Natasha said
Clint set the jet on auto pilot and waited till they were over the mid-west when they heard the thump on the jet and Clint opened the back and there entering the jet was Tony. He soon got out of the suit and was standing there with the others. Steve held his arms open and Tony entered them as the two hugged and kissed. Clint and Wanda smiled as they went up to the seat and took the jet off auto pilot.
“So, Babe you ok?” Tony asked
“As long as we know it was fake I am good.” Steve said
“So, when are you two getting married?” Clint asked
“You know we talked about that last week, and well Pepper is going to be in Malibu along with Bucky and Laura.” Tony said
“Why not while were out there.” Steve said
“Seriously and leave the other’s out of it.” Clint said
“Well we can have another wedding later, think you can keep the secret?” Tony asked
“I can’t wait.” Wanda said
“So where am I landing this thing?” Clint said
“Oh, the Malibu Mansion.” Tony said as he walked to the controls and punched in a few codes. “There Lily has control of the jet.”
“Who is Lily?” Wanda asked
“Oh, she is the AI that controls the Malibu house.” Tony said
“Hello again Sir any special instructions?” Lily asked
“No Lily just get us to the house and make sure you give Bucky and Laura enough time.” Tony said
“Oh, Miss Lopez and Sargent Barnes are out with Miss Potts and Happy getting clothes for the wedding Sir.” Lily said
“Will you give Miss Potts, Mr. Burton’s, and Miss Maximoff’s sizes to her please and tell her what ever matches Laura and Bucky’s is fine.” Tony said
“Sure, things Sir.” Lily said as Steve walked up and put his arms around Tony and held him close.
“Oh, and Clint I have a few guests at the house awaiting our arrival as well. There is plenty of room, so the wife and kids are going to be there as well.” Tony said as Clint got of his seat and went and hugged Tony as a thank you.
10. chapter 10
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Here on out Laura is Bucky's girlfriend and Lara is Clint's wife.
They arrived at the Mansion and there in the side yard was Clint’s wife and kids playing. There was a swing set with an infant swing and a slid attached. Clint smiled as he watched his wife and kids playing then he saw Cooper look up at the car and then his wife smiled. The minute the car stopped Clint was the first one out and ran to his kids as he got down and hugged them both coming up holding them.
“Daddy.” Cooper said
“Missed you Daddy.” Lila said
“Hey, you two, I missed you both too. Have you been good for your mom and helping with your brother?” Clint asked
“Of course.” Cooper said as he put his kids down as his wife came over to them and he took his 6month old son and kissed him. He then turned and handed him off to Wanda as he turned back to his wife and pulled her close to him and kissed her.
“God, I missed you.” Clint said
“Really and you just seen us last week. But I missed you too.” Lara said
“Daddy where is Auntie Nat?” Lila asked as Clint picked her up.
“She is back in New York.” Clint said
“Why, I miss her is she coming?” Lila asked
“No sweetie. Have you meant Laura and Bucky yet?” Clint asked
“Yeah you should have seen it. Bucky was holding Nathaniel while he was sleeping it was so cute Mommy took a picture.” Cooper said | e7ec2fd7a3e846cb982caf6ab3b2cc18 | ['e14b06c049094e00948e67f0f8440cd8'] | Bucky reached over and opened the case and there he saw a brand-new arm. He reached out with his flesh hand and ran his fingers over it. From finger tip to the shoulder it was so smooth, he looked at Tony who nodded yes and he reached in and picked it up out of the case. Bucky was in aww as to how light it felt compared to the heavy one he had, it hit him that meant Tony wanted something from him.
“It’s beautiful and lite, but what’s the cost?” Bucky asked as Tony was somewhat shocked that he asked that.
“Bucky, no it’s yours, I promise you that there are no strings tied to it just an upgrade from the old one. It’s what I do for all of us Avengers and well you are part of us now so it’s time for yours.” Tony said as Bucky turned and looked at the arm and then Tony again.
“Thank you but I am not sure I deserve it.” Bucky said as Tony laid his hand on his flesh shoulder.
“You have paid for your crimes you lost 70 years of your life because of Hydra now it is time to move forward. Want to try it on?” Tony asked, “It’ll take about an hour, and by that time dinner should be done.”
“Dinner, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Bucky said
“Hey, it’s small just Steve, Clint, You and me. Now let’s get started I can’t wait to get this hunk of junk off and the new one on.” Tony said as Bucky put his arm on the table and let Tony do his thing.
“So about last night I am sorry I missed movie night, but I couldn’t take it anymore.” Bucky said
“Like I said I am sorry I made you feel that way.” Tony said as Bucky looked down and away from Tony.
“It wasn’t you, I knew that you and I would talk eventually, but the looks and snickers and the others talking behind my back. I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I left and went to a bar and had a few drinks and meant a girl. I took her home and we talked all night and I crashed in her spare room.” Bucky said
“Ahh I see, I am sorry that everyone is talking behind your back and I know that Tasha, Rhodey and Sam are a few of the ones talking shit on you. But know that as of now if you’ll except it I want to be friends with you, cause we both have one thing in common and that is Steve. I love him more than anything he’s showed me that I can be happy if I trust and let other’s in. And I know you love him too but how much and in what kind of way I am not sure.” Tony said as he started to attach the new arm. Bucky looked at the man who had given him hope, and a place to stay, who had forgiven him after everything he did. Tony was a good man and he could see why Steve had fallen in love with him and he was ok with losing Steve to someone like Tony.
“To be honest with you even before the serum, I was in love with the Punk. When he rescued me after he was pumped with the serum I fell even more in love. But seeing him now I can understand how and why he feel in love with you.” Bucky said as Tony was almost done with the arm when he looked at Bucky and noticed a smile.
“Are you sure your ok with him and I?” Tony asked
“Yeah, I am Tony, I think I have meant someone who can help me take my mind off that. Laura is amazing she…I don’t know how to describe her.” Bucky said
“Miss Lopez is an amazing woman, you are right she’s a tough cookie Natasha had recruited her, herself to help teach hand to hand combat at the Compound. When you didn’t come home and worried Steve, I did some spy work myself. I won’t tell him as long as you tell him soon he feels bad enough that he didn’t realize that you were unhappy with all of us being cuddled up every movie night.” Tony said
“Deal” Bucky said as he felt Tony move away from him and he looked over to see that his new arm was attached. He moved his arm and flexed his fingers and doing all kinds of range of motion. Tony smiled as he took notice to how well Bucky liked his new arm and it looked good on him.
“Sir, Capitan Rogers said that dinner is ready, and he and Clint are waiting.” Friday said
“So, you ready to eat?” Tony asked
“Yeah starved.” Bucky said as the two headed to the elevator only to run into Rhodey.
“Well, well, well, I guess he came home after all. Come on Tones pizza and game night.” Rhodey said as Tony smiled but put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder shaking his head.
“Sorry, but I have plans, Bucky and I are going to have dinner with Steve and Clint. So, I’ll pass.” Tony said as the two got on the elevator. “Penthouse please Friday.”
The closing of the doors had Rhodey with his jaw on the floor, Tony smiled as he put his arm around Bucky and the two of them started to laugh. When the doors opened again they were in the penthouse and there was Steve and Clint standing at the table waiting on them. Steve walked over to the two men and pulled Bucky into a hug, moving back he pulled Tony and kissed him.
“Thank you.” Steve said
“Hey, told you it would all work out in time. So, what’s for dinner were hungry.” Tony said motioning to Bucky and himself. |
d81670ff12764da689825b025d4b5be4 | ['e152b33d1f3b4d019a59b8280a371779'] | Right now it was a respite. They had flown in, the airplane had been crowded, far too dry and far too noisy. He had wondered how Elizabeth could have slept with all the noise around her. Although, she had worked the whole night preparing their trip, so she had deserved to sleep. Immediately after takeoff she’d fallen asleep and slept till the landing announcement sounded. At first her rest had been fitful and she’d moved around in her seat, but in the end she came to lay her head against his shoulder and her sleep had been quieter from then on.
Over his reminiscing he must have fallen asleep himself, because the next time be came aware of the far too quiet tub, he still had the hazy memories of having shown Elizabeth the Barrier Reef without her wearing any kind of breathing apparatus. She was a good diver, even without a respirator, but even she couldn’t stay down as long as his dreams had made it out.
After leaving the tub and only drying himself enough so that he wouldn’t drip everywhere, he went looking for Elizabeth. She wasn’t difficult to find, besides the bathroom there was only one other room and Elizabeth stood in front of the floor-length window, framed by the afternoon sun, turning around as he came into the room.
“How was your rest, Mark?’
“I slept well, Elizabeth, thank you. What is that unsolvable problem you want to tell me about?”
She sighed and came to him, picking up an envelope on the way.
“Our cover, we are John and Jane Smith, here on our seventh anniversary.”
With those words she shook the envelope and two rings dropped into her hand.
He picked up the ring and looked at it, it was a simple gold band.
“We are a married couple?”
He didn’t quite see why that would be a problem, going by the married couples he’d seen, marriage didn’t seem so bad. They had been mistaken in stores for a married couple before, when they’d gone shopping for clothes for him. And he wouldn’t mind kissing her, he looked forward to it. But he wouldn’t be able to wear the ring, his webbing would be in the way. Would that be a problem, if he ever married?
Motioning as if he were to put on the ring, Elizabeth did the same. Hers was too small, she couldn’t get it further down her finger than he he could.
“It’s such an irony, giving us the cover of a married couple and the the biggest outward sign of the marriage doesn’t even fit.”
Before he could be sure, whether it was really disappointment he saw in her face, she went to the desk the envelope had lain on. It was covered with maps, she pointed at one.
“Given the local currents and the swordfish’s migration pattern, I think we should start to look for our money-eating fish here.”
Looking at where she pointed, he agreed with her. All swordfish would likely come through that region.
“I rented a boat, so lets if we can find any clues before it gets too late. Who knows if the counterfeiters or the fish we are searching for are still in the region.”
* * *
The sun was still high in the sky when they set out. Elizabeth expertly steering the little boat across the waves. Their scuba gear tied securely but visible for everybody who cared to take a look. They’d look like a couple out for a dive, their boat would be anchored in a likely and yet seldom used diving location, so nobody would wonder when they found an empty boat and no one close by. Their real goal lay two miles further out, Mark would bring them there in rapid order.
But for now he still had to be patient for a few more minutes, endure the sun burning down on them. He felt hot in his jacket, which was better than getting a sun burn, and the sun was too bright, even with his glasses on.
“So, Mark, I never asked. How did you like the carnival?’
Going over their gear again, to make sure both their tags were in working order, although he didn’t need it, they’d take his has backup for Elizabeth’s gear, he answered her.
“It was an interesting experience. I liked the Ferris wheel, I could see so much of the world. I felt a bit like a sea gull in the wind, it was so different from the airplane. Freer, more colorful. There were so many people, I would have liked to talk to more of them without someone trying to electrocute me. We should visit it when it comes again. I can introduce you to Charlene, she owns the carnival.”
Elizabeth was slowing the boat down.
“Lets do that. I can’t remember the last time I was at a carnival. I wanted to take you to the one the year before, but than I was kidnapped by Doctor Smith. When I was young there was this one fair which had a merry-go-around with sea horses, I could never get enough of riding those.”
If he ever found a sea horse like Muldoon’s, he’d bring it back for her. If he could, they were, of course, not native to this dimension and if it came to bringing her one and returning it to it’s rightful place, he was sure Elizabeth would rather mourn the chance of not having seen a man-sized sea-horse than keep the creature from its home.
They had their boat secured and put on the scuba gear, although as far as Mark could see there was no one out here who would take notice if he just jumped straight in. | 87b1344c479441f18343ec8e6f7d3656 | ['e152b33d1f3b4d019a59b8280a371779'] | Bren took up his small carryall bag with underwear, a shaving kit and some other necessities. The atevi government would provide almost anything he asked for, but it was better to be prepared till one got settled in.
The case with the computer went over the other shoulder.
A final nod to his family, and then he turned around and walked to the waiting plane.
He had to get his act together. Out of the very few people who got into the paidhi program he was of the twenty percent who managed to graduate at all. Not only that, he was the currently the best, the best Mospheira had to offer, among the the top five to ever graduate from the program. And while his study mates got to sit in the university and write dictionaries with the notes the paidhi send back, he was the one who had been chosen to go across the strait. To deal directly with the atevi. The whole staff of the Foreign Office believed in him. Believed that he wouldn't tip over the Treaty and send Mospheira to its doom.
They didn't expect more of him, yet. Only: keep the peace, don't annoy the atevi till Wilson got back. Wilson who would be waiting at the airport to return to Mospheira with the plane bringing Bren. Strictly to protocol, as the Treaty stipulated. One and only one human on the mainland at any given time.
For the next few days that human would be him. He'd wear intricate court clothing instead of simple Mospheiran things. He'd eat food potentially lethal to him among people next to whom he stood as tall an eight year old. Offend someone and there was a good chance one would receive a notification of Intent by the Assassins' Guild in the evening mail.
He really had to stop worrying. There was no reason he would screw up and he finally got to see atevi in real life, just like he had imagined all those years back when Kevin O'Reilly, former paidhi-successor, was at his school, and told them about the paidhi program and why it was so important. He had decided than and there that he would become the paidhi one day.
Today was this day. Today he would become the acting paidhi. He would talk to atevi and walk among them. He had worked hard for this, neglecting sleep, food and social life for this day.
He could do it.
Bren took a deep breath and climbed up the ladder.
☙End❧
**Author's Note:**
> Just so nobody goes scrambling madly through the books. Kevin O'Reilly, the black flipper, the magaeiwa, the _Bretano Whisperer_ and the Jackson Elementary school are made up.
>
> Bren mentions that one of the items Mospheira trades to the mainland is fish, that's how the blackflipper were born.
> He also says that the Mospheirans hunt small animals, hence the magaeiwa - which I picture as the atevi equivalent of rabbits.
>
> Last but in no way least, I'd like to thank FernDavant and Kastaka for betaing. |
fc9cab3324a14c7ea11d17ce6ec34fc5 | ['e15e228a60a54b1d930845c3c0b9185f'] | Steve looked up at his soul mate with a scowl that softened at the sight of his soon to be wife rocking their infant son. He lay lazily in her arms, staring sleepily at his mother. The Captain felt the same warm feeling he had when she accepted his proposal.
“ _An' ya thought ya was gonna be a terrible mother."_
Li scoffed in embarrassment and the tips of her ears just barely noticeably darkened.
“ _This isn't mothering this common sense. Like knowing that sometimes the best thing to do is let them cry themselves out because honestly they just want over attention. Or bring extra everything when you go out in case they fall in a lake chasing ducks. Or don't bring them to a car show when they just learned how to hot wire no matter how much they beg you."_
_“Tony really put ya through it didn't he?"_
Li smiled softly at the boy that had partial namesake of her platonic soul mate and stroked his cheek.
“ _He's a, Stark, alright. Stubborn, arrogant, thinks with the wrong head...but I wouldn't change anything between us. He's always been the better part of me."_
Steve frowned at the Major's admission. The part that she doesn't think she alone is good enough. Amy started fussing again and, Steve, moved the hand that was held by hers, but she wouldn't stop. The Captain turned his full attention back to his daughter.
“Hey, princess, it's ya Pop-obviously. Now there's no need for all that fussin' we're here so ya got no reason t' worry.
Well, I shouldn't say that. There's plenty of reasons t' worry, but I won't let none of it get ya an' neither will ya Ma."
He looked up at his soul mate again. She turned away from him, but he knew she was listening to his every word so he continued.
“She's the strongest person I know. Ya Ma's been through a lot in her life. Whether or not she'll get int' specifics is her choice, but she knows trouble an' how t' beat it."
The Major finally faced him, her dark eyes filled with emotions he couldn't place and she refused to let through their bond. He continued.
“I only feel safe when ya Ma's with me an' I only feel like ya safe when she's around."
Li scoffed again. Steve whispered a promise to be back in a minute to their slumbering daughter. He made his way over to his girl. He kissed, Jamie, on the forehead and then his Major's temple. She stuck her tongue out at him and put their sleeping son in his crib. She stroked his soft dark hair for bit before she had to cover up a yawn. The Captain pulled her in tight.
_“Let's take a page from the twins' book, sweetheart. First of many family sleepovers."_
_“You're such a sap, Rogers!"_
_“But I'm_ ya _sap, Rogers! Forever."_
They sat down on the couch, looking between their children. He knew that they would be okay, that, Amy, would live. Modern medicine was an amazing thing, and hell he made it through the Depression, but still...
“ _Now I know how m' Ma felt. It ain't fair. She jus' made it out int' the world, her life won' truly start for years an' already she might not make it past go."_
The Major rolled her eyes, kissed him between the eyebrows, yawned, and snuggled into him.
“ _She's got Captain America's blood flowing through her. If she goes down-if either of them do-they're going down swingin'."_
The Captain just grunted and she started to drift off. When she was fully asleep, Steve, kissed his girl's ring. He laid his head on hers, still holding her hand.
“They got ya fight in 'em too, sweetheart," he whispered, “Wish I could get ya t' see that."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Find me at: steve-it-hurt-a-little-rogers.tumblr.com
78. Conceal. Don't Feel. Don't Let It Show.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Li woke with a start to the feeling of Amelia's heart rate dropping again. She quickly untangled herself from her Captain's arms and rushed over to her little girl. Passed out and turning blue, Amy, was definitely in trouble again and the Major heard the doctors running to the distress signal their equipment gave them.
ReSpawn quickly put her hand in her daughter's and immediately felt her power supply flowing into the infant. Then the Major invaded the response team's minds and turned them back around. The last thing the superhuman needed was the unending questions and probing on both her and her children. She had HYDRA for that.
_“Sweetheart, sweetheart wha-?"_
The Major turned her mind powers on her waking soul mate and put him back to sleep. She didn't need the questions and worry from him either.
Li stroked her daughter's tiny hand with her thumb and laid her head on the cool plastic of the incubator. Amy's eyes opened again after a minute and the Major watched her stare cross eyed at her. Li smiled.
_“Hi, baby girl, it's just Mama. Take as much as you need okay? Just don't tell your father."_
The corner of Amy's mouth twitched up into an almost smile before she fell asleep again and, Li, laughed with a shake of her head.
_“Smile just like your Daddy..."_
She stood up and looked over at her son. He lay on his back, dead to the world, twitching here and there. Li rolled her eyes.
_“And you sleep like him. Good. You two it keep up and maybe you'll be running around in spandex."_
Li sat back down and closed her eyes, her family being the last thing on her mind before falling asleep.
_“I love you, babies. See you in the morning."_
* * *
_“Sweetheart, sweetheart wake up!"_
The Major jumped up and immediately went into a fighting position. She scanned the room, realized where she was, and relaxed.
_“Where's the fire, Steve?"_ | bcbe871df35d48d1bc37d319edd92f1d | ['e15e228a60a54b1d930845c3c0b9185f'] | Peter's Christmas
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> I feel bad about my lack of updating my AU so here's a little Christmas one shot and I'll update when I can!
“Tony you promised!” Steve frowned. It was a week before Christmas and Steve and Tony still hadn't gotten Peter’s biggest present, the one thing the boy wouldn't stop asking about for over a year.
“ _I_ didn't promise anything. _You_ did. And dragged me into it!” Tony grimaced, “You know how I feel about- _those creatures_.”
Steve rolled his eyes. Ever since that one situation with the radioactive mutant zoo animals Loki created Tony’s been a little paranoid around animals of all kinds. Steve knew that Tony always had a strong aversion to horses “Dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.” as he liked to put it, but now he purposely avoided dogs on the street and almost blasted all nine lives of Natasha’s cat into oblivion when it snuck into his lab last week.
“Come on, Stark! This is your son we’re talking about and you did say if he could keep that fish you got him last Christmas alive for a year we’d get him a dog.”
“A lot can change in a year,” Tony mumbled fiddling with a piece of scrap metal on his work table.
“Stark-” Steve began in his Captain “I will order you to do this” voice when Peter came running in.
“Daddy! Pop! I need you two for a tie breaker! Uncle Clint, Sam, and Nick like the name Wade but Bucky, Bruce, and Auntie Nat like Miles.
“Actually Peter-”
“It hasn't been a year yet,” Steve cut Tony off, “So don’t get too carried away. Come on we have some Christmas shopping to do.”
Steve led Peter out of the lab and then looked back at his scowling husband.
“Come with me or not, he’s getting a dog next week. End of discussion.”
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“How about this one, Petey?” Steve asked pointing out a floppy eared Cocker Spaniel puppy.
“Nah, he’s so tiny. I don’t want Daddy to almost kill it like Auntie’s cat,” Peter smirked looking over at Tony who was standing as close to the doorway as possible.
“That was so funny I forgot to laugh.”
They were at one of the local pet shelters at Tony’s suggestion, much to the surprise of everyone excluding Steve. He knew his husband well enough to know that Tony’s an ass, but not an asshole, no matter what his feelings were if he promised Peter a dog, Peter was getting a dog. So at the shelter they were. Tony refused to get close to the animals and flinched whenever they made barked or moved, but at least he was there.
“Hiya! My name’s Unique! Can I help ya find your new family member today?” asked wild hair woman.
She was beaming brightly at them and started talking about how kind all the animals were if given the chance, when Tony cleared his throat.
Unique looked over at the door, “Oh hi Mr. Stark! Are ya finally here to get her?”
“Yup. Is she ready?”
“She’s been ready since the day ya met her! One moment, I’ll go get her!”
Steve addressed Tony as soon as Unique was out of ear shot, “Stark, what is she talking about?”
Tony just shrugged, “I volunteered here as a kid and I pay for its up keep now so I know pretty much know every flea ball here.”
He blushed a little, “One of the new arrivals last year got fond of me. She’s sweet, a little nervous, but sweet and she’s a Carpathian Sheepdog, I think, so she’s pretty big.”
Tony looked down at Peter with a slight smile, “So I’ll see her coming into the lab.”
“Tony you-” Steve started but was cut off by a sound similar to air being let out of a balloon coming from Peter.
Unique came back and right beside her was a grey and white pile of fur that was just as big as she was and twice as big as Peter who was slowly walking toward it. Tony was really grinning now and Steve was rolling his eyes at him.
“She won’t hurt ya love,” Unique soothed Peter, “Go ahead and pet her.”
Peter put his hand on the dog’s head and started scratching, “She’s so soft!”
Peter started scratching her all over and soon she turned over on her back, “Haha, I think she likes me! What’s her name, Daddy?”
“Never gave her one! I figured you’d want to do the honors.”
Peter scowled in intense thought, “How about, Gwen?”
The dog perked up when Peter said that and rolled over on her belly.
“Do you like that girl? Do you want your name to be Gwen?”
In response, Peter got a bark and a lick to the face, multiple licks actually.
“Gwen it is!” Tony chuckled as Steve took his hand, “Gwen Stark-Rogers. I like it.”
**Author's Note:**
> Tell me what you think! Find me at: steve-it-hurt-a-little-rogers.tumblr.com |
4ec310c6be4740bdbb2dfa278e29f29f | ['e1cc0d2841f44176ad9d42a4b6747721'] | Not so much time had passed, and the islanders were finally back to admire Roxas’ marvelous works of art. His garden was now full of statues even more beautiful, more real than before, and they noticed with peculiar interest and curiosity that the subjects were all paired, now. There were pairs of dogs, cats, birds on the verge of spreading their wings. Pairs of boys and girls so real that they radiated all the happiness and love they felt for each other, and people often stood perfectly still by the works, eyes widened, as if they were the true statues, avoiding to blink and hoping to be able to grasp the slightest of kisses.
**Author's Note:**
> Sora is usually the sun between the two of them, but this time I wanted Roxas to be the sun because Apollo loves him, and that's why he is also tanned. If it was Percy Jackson, he would be Apollo's son for sure.
> I'm in love with musician Roxas, he plays the lyre because i can't help it, I'm sorry.
>
> "When he returned home, he kissed his ivory statue, and found that its lips felt warm. He kissed it again, and found that the ivory had lost its hardness." I read this line on Wikipedia and I simply melted, and I actually wrote the fic with the kiss scene in mind, I really worked hard to describe it. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
>
> I hope you liked this story. If you want, leave a kudos or a comment, that would make me very happy!
>
> My twitter account: @Kitsune_18
>
> My tumblr: https://hanayuki23.tumblr.com/ | b8272ddd94e8458abb8c4a4038dcc60b | ['e1cc0d2841f44176ad9d42a4b6747721'] | Despite the love he felt for the sculpture, Roxas had never kissed it. It was just a statue, after all, and as far as he knew the truth in his heart, having any kind of contact with that cold stone would have been a further and useless confirmation of what he was stubbornly denying. But he was now desperate, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the harsh reality was getting the best of him. At that point, what else could he lose?
But, for who knows what absurd reason, the marble wasn’t as cold as he had expected it to be. He probably had gone mad (and this time for good), or maybe the warmth of his lips was warming the stone, but the other’s lips felt like they were getting warmer and even s _ofter_. He started to think that Apollo had listened to his prayers and was having him dead, and Roxas couldn’t have been more grateful to his god – He was granting him death in the sweetest way possible.
The artist kissed him a second time, then a third, and he felt the lips of the statues getting warmer and warmer, more real. His breath was starting to die in his throat, the legs couldn’t hold his weight anymore and the eyes stayed perfectly sealed, as he was scared of breaking who knows what spell if he had opened them.
He realized he was dead the moment he felt hands holding his face and lips moving and kissing him back with the same passion and heat, if not greater.
“Roxas, please open your eyes” a voice begged him in a whisper, the loveliest he had ever heard. From the tone he noticed that his owner was making a great effort, as if he didn’t want to break the kiss. Those lips now so familiar actually got back kissing him desperately, while the hands moved from the face to bury themselves in his blond hair.
Roxas, as he took a breath, felt the intense smell of jasmines invade his senses, and the other’s taste was making its way on his lips and his tongue.
“Roxas” he called again, but as much as the boy was begging him, the sculptor wouldn’t have let himself being deceived. He knew far too well what happened to Orpheus when he had turned back to look at his wife one step away from the exit of the Underworld, and he wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake.
“If I open my eyes you’ll disappear, won’t you?” he asked, pressing his lips against the other’s to make sure he was still there with him.
“Now that I can be with you? I don’t think so” the boy answered, kissing him back once again, “please look at me, open your eyes.”
And Roxas did. His eyes met immediately the other’s, now empty no more, but deep and blue like the sky, and his look moved on the boy’s features, on his sunkissed skin and the freckles that graciously decorated his face, shoulders and arms, on the red and slightly moist lips and on a raw white straight teeth exposed by a huge grin.
The hair was brown and messy, and Roxas reached out to caress it and feel its softness. He moved his hand on the other’s face, to feel the warmth of those ligthly flushed cheeks, as the other one, that was holding the boy’s hand, let go and slowly slid on his left forearm, touching gently the thin branch covered with white jasmines and bright green leaves that was wrapping it, reminding of the entwined crown hidden by his hair.
“You are beautiful, you know that?”
“Me? Well, thanks, but you’re the one that made me like this. You, instead! You are so beautiful that you look like a god, you’re literally the light of my eyes.”
The boy chuckled, a bit embarrassed, and Roxas found him adorable. But the smile faded from his lips and he gave the artist a look full of sorrow.
“I’m sorry. For everything. You don’t know how much I suffered watching you like that, how much I wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone. But I was just a statue, I didn’t know what to do…”
“I love you.”
The other was taken aback, astonished.
“You can’t interrupt someone’s apologies by declaring your love like this, that’s not fair! But I love you too.”
The two of them laughed and he took advantage of that to place another tender kiss on the sculptor’s lips.
“I still don’t know your name. Can you tell me?” Roxas asked, smiling.
“I don’t have one, but you could give me a name! Something that reminds of yours, though, maybe mixing the letters a little and taking out some of them, what do you think? It may sound stupid, I know that, but…”
“What about Sora?”
“Sora?” the boy thought about it for a moment, “Yes! Yes, I like it, you can call me that” Sora decided, showing off a smile so bright that Roxas was nearly blinded by it.
He really was his light. Sora had found him when he needed him the most, had took down the wall of statues that he had created and was able to expose all of his vulnerability. And he was there, with him, and Roxas couldn’t wait to show him the real world, to teach him everything he didn’t know, to figure out new things together and live with him out of that block of marble, out of that house.
As they were intensely looking in the eyes, madly in love, Roxas’ look was suddenly drawn to a mark imprinted under Sora’s right lobe. A little sun painted in red, the same one that was engraved on the bracelets that the artist used to wear to honor Apollo, and the boy smiled. He really was the god’s favorite. |
964013dfb868445691e81ed14dbc3e48 | ['e1db4f651ab74662aea34ec0162a3a98'] | Jimin lifts his arms away, letting them fall back until only his hands rest on Namjoon’s shoulders. He bites into the centre of his lower lip, staring up at him, but his gaze is too low to be looking at his eyes. Namjoon’s heart pounds in his ears, loud and slow. He feels too light, floating with how Jimin’s so close, how he smells, how he feels so solid and real underneath his hands. He can’t hold back the shiver that shakes through him, but then Jimin’s pulling away.
“You’re going to catch a cold, hyung, you’re shivering,” Jimin mumbles, dropping his hands down to his sides. Even in the orange cast of the streetlight down the road, Namjoon can see the flush working inwards from his ears.
“Come inside with me?”
He holds out his hand for Jimin to take, reaching for his suitcase with his free hand to wheel it along after them. Jimin’s hand is tiny in his even in his thick mittens. He follows Namjoon up the stairs and into the light of the building, easy as anything. Namjoon swears he can feel the tidewater around his ankles, flooding over his feet, because for the first time—he’s sure. He’s so, so sure.
\--
“They might be a bit weird.” Namjoon presses the buzzer for the door and waits for someone to come and see them on the intercom camera. “I didn’t, uh, tell them who it was. Or where I was going. Or why.”
“It’s fine.” Jimin’s cheeks have turned a warm, rosy pink in the heat of the hallway. He tucks his smile into his scarf, his eyes crinkling. Namjoon’s hand sweats against the plastic handle of Jimin’s suitcase. Jimin hasn’t let go of his other hand since they walked up the steps outside, and every time his grip slips because of the mitten he slides Namjoon’s hand back more firmly into his.
“I knew it,” Yoongi’s voice says through the speaker. The door opens in front of them with a happy little chime, and Yoongi steps back to let them through. “Hey, Jimin-ah. Is that my fucking scarf?”
“Not even ‘Hi’?” Namjoon says. Jimin pulls him through the doorway. Yoongi’s staring at them with his eyebrow quirked up like he’s dying to say something else, but Jimin has to let go of his hand to take off his coat. “But, yeah, it is.”
“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says. He pulls off his mittens with his teeth, then tugs his beanie off of his hair. By now, everyone’s heard the commotion at the door and they’re stirring from their spots at the table. “I took an earlier train.”
Taehyung gets there first, careening across the floor in his fuzzy socks like it’s a slip and slide before he skids to a stop right before he crashes into the wall. Jimin has one arm inside of his coat and one outside of it when he wraps him up in a backhug. “ChimChim! The apartment’s been so weird without you.”
“Hey TaeTae. Missed you too.”
“You have to help me beat Kookie,” Taehyung says, loosening up his octopus hold until he finally steps away. “He was a military strategist in his past life or something, I don’t know how he keeps winning. It’s time to break out the big guns. Canons. Sabotage.”
Everyone else clusters in slowly, crowding into the entryway. Hoseok shoots Jimin a little wave, smiling hugely, and Jimin waves back. Namjoon overbalances when he attempts to toe off the boots and ends up hitting his shoulder into the wall when he succeeds. He leaves them knocked over on their sides and puts Yoongi’s scarf back on the hook where he found it.
“I’m still going to crush both your asses,” Jeongguk says. “I’m right here, I can hear you. Are those my boots? Hyung, seriously?”
“I’d—I’d love to play, but um—” Jimin’s eyes dart from Namjoon over to the rest of them, reaching his hand up to scratch at the back of his head as he looks down at the floor.
“I think we should let Namjoonie and Jiminie talk alone for a while, don’t you?” Seokjin parts through the rest of them easily with the width of his shoulders, coming to settle in next to Yoongi and wrapping an arm low around his waist. The look he levels at Namjoon is sharp but fond. “They probably have a lot to talk about.”
“Oh,” Hoseok says behind him, and Namjoon can almost hear the way the room shifts around them. “Oh, right. TaeTae, Kookie, come with me, we should finish our round. Or start a new one so neither of you cheat.”
He pulls them by the elbow back to the living room table against their weak protests, and it’s all starting to feel a little like a set up.
“You should go talk in our room,” Seokjin says. Yoongi leans his head into his shoulder, nodding with his eyes closed. “It’ll be quieter in there.”
\---
Jimin lets go of his hand once they’re through the door of the bedroom. The curtains are pulled back from the balcony again, letting the watery light from the street below wash over the room. It’s just enough to allow Namjoon to see the shadowy outline of Jimin’s body moving over towards the sliding glass doors.
“Is—is it okay if I turn on one of the lamps?”
“Sure,” Jimin says, but it comes out almost like a sigh, and he stays facing outwards towards the glass.
Namjoon goes over to the closest bedside table and flicks on the reading lamp, then climbs over the bed to reach for the other one. He squints against the brightness as it radiates outwards, but once his eyes adjust he knows it’s better like this. Jimin’s turned around now, and the window is dark against his back. The harshness of the lamplight casts the planes and angles of his face into sharp shadow. | 58f9e0a08b63485da61bcafa2c8c64ee | ['e1db4f651ab74662aea34ec0162a3a98'] | “Out, out, get out of there or we’ll be here all day,” Antonio calls to Jimin. Back when Namjoon was ten he had been intimidating, more than a head taller than Namjoon as he poked and prodded him into stretching out his arms so he could take proper measurements with his tape. Now Namjoon doesn’t have to look up far when he’s seated and Antonio is standing, but his presence still holds a strange kind of weight.
“This is embarrassing,” Jimin says through the closet door. “Hyung, I can’t, the pants don’t—”
“Is he doubting me?” Antonio says, looking at Namjoon, who says nothing.
“Are you doubting me?” he calls to Jimin. “I can fix anything. Tell him,” he says to Namjoon.
“He’s amazing, Jiminie. I’m sure it’s fine. Just come out, okay?”
“This happens every time,” Jimin says, “This is why I don’t… there’s _no_ way—”
“You handle this,” Antonio says. “Ridiculous. Has he ever had tailoring done before?”
Namjoon shakes his head no, sighing as he scuffs his socked foot along the floor before he gets up and makes his way to the closet, pressing his mouth close to the seam of the door. “Jimin?”
“Hyung, I’m sorry, this was a good idea, but I can’t do it, this isn’t going to work.”
“We already talked about that.” Namjoon clears his throat, trying to shake the image of Jimin’s mouth out of his mind. He’d been so close. Fuck. “If-If you’re still not—”
“Promise not to laugh at me.”
“What?”
“Hyung! Promise not to laugh at me, or I’m staying in here.”
“I wasn’t planning on it?”
“God, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Jimin says. He’s silent for a few seconds, and Namjoon presses his ear closer to the door. “Fine. I’m coming out.”
“Finally,” Antonio says. Namjoon steps back to stand next to him, swaying back and forth as he fights back the pressure crawling up his chest, somewhere between anticipation and anxiety. He shouldn’t have pushed Jimin so hard about this, he shouldn’t have gotten that close kissing him—
Jimin throws open the closet door, slowly at first, and then all at once. “Are you happy now?”
He lifts one hand to gesture along the line of his body. The coat fits decently enough, even though Namjoon had been broader than Jimin even back then, and the shoulders will need to be taken in. Ten minutes ago, a crash from inside the closet had made Namjoon jump in his seat, but Jimin had called out that he was fine.
It makes a little more sense, now that he’s seeing Jimin like this.
There’s no saving the bottom half—Jimin has the right leg pulled up to just past his knee, but that’s as far as the fabric has allowed it to go. The muscles of his right thigh and the entirety of his left leg down to his sock are left bare, and his black boxer briefs are so tight they’re not hiding much either. The material of the other leg trails behind him like some kind of forlorn flag of surrender.
The blood rushing through Namjoon’s ears makes his head feel oddly hollow. A liquid sort of heat spreads out from low in his stomach outwards to the rest of his body, and he feels shaky with it, unable to tear his eyes away from the curve of Jimin’s thighs, the way they look impossibly solid and strong. His reaction is so automatic he can’t even try to push it down. He resists the urge to fist his hands in the bottom of his sweater and yank down the hem, taking a sidelong glance at the bed and the ungodly number of throw pillows his mother insists on.
Well. At least he wasn’t going to start laughing. Maybe he could just die here instead.
Yeah. Good plan.
“This isn’t going to work,” Jimin says. “It was a nice idea, but there is _no _way.”__
__“Again, you underestimate me,” Antonio says, rolling out his measuring tape with a smooth flick of his wrist. He walks a slow circle around Jimin, taking everything in as Jimin flushes more deeply with each passing moment, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Once Antonio gets to the back he reaches for one of the tails of the tux jacket, smoothing his thumb over the material before he’s pulling away. “Yes, that’ll do nicely.”_ _
__“Look,” Jimin says. For the first time since he left the closet, he looks directly at Namjoon, like he’s begging him for a bail out. Namjoon shifts on the edge of the bed, clutching a pale blue roll pillow to his lap. He attempts to make his smile look as reassuring as possible. “I really don’t think—”_ _
__“The jacket could be worse.” Antonio tucks his thumbs into the right shoulder seam. It pushes inwards easily as the fabric underneath moves to meet Jimin’s actual shoulder. “The shoulders must be taken in, but that will be an easy enough alteration once I’ve taken your measurements. Sleeves must be adjusted also, as well as the shirt and cummerbund.”_ _
__He clicks his tongue, pointer finger outstretched against his cheek as he surveys the bottom half. “The pants are more difficult. I would love to make you an entirely new pair, but young Mr. Kim has been quite insistent that they merely be altered, and I’m afraid finding fabric of the same dye lot as the jacket might be impossible anyway, given its age.”_ _
__Jimin looks over at Namjoon, his eyebrows raised as he mouths, _What?_._ _
__Namjoon shakes his head, pressing the pillow down harder as he shifts. Choosing skinny jeans this morning had been a goddamn mistake. Jimin pouts at him, but doesn’t say anything else._ _ |
2edc5cc3d87f47609905c878b207a19c | ['e1f1191e3f0b4bae800b56388b5256cb'] | Edgeworth scowls at him. “So when we were running around, tripping over children, and circling around that damn pumpkin—you're telling me that you were at that same pointless game _the entire time?!_ ”
“Well, yeah,” Gumshoe says, honest in a truly ballsy way. “Basically.”
“Scruffy,” Franziska says darkly. “If you value that hedgehog, you will give back the precious moments wasted in our foolish search for you!”
“Uh, guys,” Wright hastily cuts in before Gumshoe can become Glumshoe, “how about we all just calm down and plan our next trip to the amusement park instead of threatening the good detective's life?”
“What 'next trip to the amusement park'?” Edgeworth scoffs.
Franziska hums in thought; somehow she makes it sound terrifying. “I must agree with Phoenix Wright,” she says. “Miles Edgeworth is going to ride the Cosmic Avalanche five times; we need to plan accordingly.”
“No, we don't.”
“What?!” Gumshoe shouts. “Mr. Edgeworth's gonna ride the Cosmic Avalanche five times?!”
“No, I'm not!”
“Oh yes, he is,” Wright says, apparently making it his mission to see Edgeworth suffer. “We made a bet that he'd have to ride the Cosmic Avalanche five times after we found you.”
“I—I never agreed to it!” Edgeworth yells, but no one's paying any attention.
“Mr. Edgeworth's gonna ride the Cosmic Avalanche five times,” Gumshoe repeats in awe. “That's so brave of you, sir! Just one go on that thing made me throw up!”
“I truly believed I would die after I'd ridden it two consecutive times,” Franziska says, nodding.
“And I was pretty sure I actually _was_ dead,” Wright adds.
The three of them sigh at the fond memories.
Edgeworth stares at them. “There's something terribly wrong with you people,” he says.
“And now it's your turn, Edgeworth!” Wright says with a laugh, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Edgeworth starts moving to slide out of his grip, but seeing Wright's grin, directed at him, makes him pause. He's too exhausted to bring himself to hate or be angry at him; something about that smile, seeing how bright and wide it is _for_ _him_ , has him reconsider.
He looks at Gumshoe. The detective seems content, the way he holds Maggey's prize tender and caring; it had been a labor of love, getting that hedgehog thing, and all for the mere possibility that the person it's intended for would enjoy it.
And Franziska… Edgeworth doesn't think he's ever seen her smile so genuinely. It's still a guarded smile, as if it's a closely kept secret, but it's the first that's been so open.
Well, they're officially unbanned from the amusement park in a week, he thinks. More than likely they're going to drag him out here, rain or shine, and shove him onto that stupid ride then.
But maybe, just maybe, he'll go along with it. Perhaps he'll even look forward to it.
If only to see these idiots and his sister happy, he will.
**Author's Note:**
> Miles manages to negotiate five times down to two. He still dies.
>
> Phoenix is not invited to the funeral. | 553b5d48e68747ec92ddc4d56c533ebd | ['e1f1191e3f0b4bae800b56388b5256cb'] | “… and your name is Darui…”
“ _No_.”
“… wouldn't that make you the D?” C says anyway, grinning.
Darui stares at him. “If you say anything like that again,” he says, “you're not gonna get any D.”
C decides it's not worth it and sits quietly the rest of the day.
**Yamato/Iruka – Nudge Nudge Wink Wink
** Yamato and Iruka may have bonded over Kakashi's antics, but the bonds the Mokuton can make are an entirely different kind of bond altogether.
**Naruto/Omoi –** **オモイの** **重い思い** **
** “I want to apologize to you about Karui,” Omoi says. “But what if you take it the wrong way? Maybe you'd think I'm trying to make a move on you, which would be completely counterproductive to what I'm trying to say. Or maybe you'd like it instead and take it as an invitation to ask me out. Then we would go on a date, we'd fall in love at the end of the night, and after six months of going steady you'd propose to me and we'd have a private ceremony on the beach, and then we'd buy a house at the edge of Kumogakure and raise three adopted children all named after food and once all the children move out to go to ninja college—”
“Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen,” Naruto quickly cuts in. "But, uh, thanks. I guess."
**Author's Note:**
> Other ships I'd considered writing but didn't:
> 1\. Sai/Gaara
> 2\. B/Teuchi
> 3\. Probably something involving Madara
> 3\. Yamato/Minato (which is a lie; I totally did) |
b0a70d6e348b44eabbc5b0226cd86231 | ['e1f8d9ec7f8f4aa0a7aeee3fe2df449b'] | “It’s okay, dad. I get you,” Liam said, sadly, plucking up a thread of the tablecloth.
“You didn’t sound surprised, though,” Geoff said, frowning and turning towards Karen.
“I wasn’t,” she said, simply, making Liam snap his head up.
“Why weren’t you surprised?” Liam asked, confused.
“I knew it was him from some time now,” she answered.
“How--?” Liam was shocked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geoff asked, upset for being kept in the dark.
“Liam didn’t want to tell anyone, I respected his wishes,” Karen defended herself.
“You should have told me,” Geoff grumbled.
“Why should I? For you to go and hunt down the kid?” She shook her head. “I was waiting for him to figure out how incredible Liam is,” she said, proudly. “And it looks like he did.”
Liam was speechless.
“How did you find out?” Geoff asked what Liam wanted to know, but wasn’t able to say.
“It was just a matter of observation. I started to suspect when Liam went to college and always changed the subject when I talked about Zayn. Doniya and Ruth are good friends, but he and Zayn never were, even though they studied at the same school for some time. And I always saw you looking at his social media.”
“You spied on me?” Liam was offended.
“It wasn’t spying. I used to walk by the corridor and, when you were with the door open, I looked in quickly, just to check if you were okay, mainly after--” She cut herself, but Liam knew she was talking about the time they found him out of it on the floor. “Well, first I thought you were friends. I didn’t know you were looking at his social media secretly, because every time I walked by, you never batted an eye. Now I know it’s because you were so engrossed into looking at him, you didn’t realize I was there.” She smiled faintly. “Then, he came here to pick Doniya up once, and I talked to you about him. You went pale and changed the subject so fast that I almost had whiplash. I tried to talk about him on other occasions, but you always changed the topic. I thought he was one of your bullies, but then, you told us who used to bully you at school and I never forgot those names, so I rejected that option. And then, the day before yesterday he called asking for your address after the last imprints appearing.” She shrugged. “I could say I was sure after his call, but honestly, I was sure way before.”
“I can’t believe you,” Liam mumbled, still too shocked.
“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Geoff said.
“I wouldn’t betray Liam’s secret,” she said. Liam shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyed. “What do you plan to do now, baby?” Karen asked.
“I have to talk with him,” Liam answered. “Like, have a proper conversation with him.”
“You didn’t talk when he went to your flat?” his dad asked.
“We talked, but I wasn’t ready to talk about things properly, and we agreed to meet another time.” Liam shrugged.
“And now do you feel ready, sweetheart?” Karen asked.
“I dunno. But I have to try.” Liam sighed. “And I want to see him, too,” he mumbled.
“Of course, you want to see him, baby,” his mom said, patting his hand.
Liam nodded.
“When will you bring him here?” Geoff asked.
“It’s too soon to think about that, Geoff,” Karen said. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” she said, turning to Liam. “You’ll bring him here when you are _both_ ready.”
“‘kay. Thank you,” Liam smiled slightly. He was relieved about telling his parents, but he didn’t want to go through this again to tell his sisters. “Mom, could you tell Nic and Roo?” he asked.
“Of course, baby.” She smiled at him.
“Thank you.” Liam squeezed Karen’s hand, so thankful for her help.
“It’s my job, baby,” she said, and got up to hug him.
3. Where I wanna be
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey, guys! I underestimated the fic (again). I thought I would finish it today, but I didn't. I'm sorry! I didn't want to leave you guys without an update, though. So, here's a third chapter.
> The chapter is edited now. Thanks to my sweet Sabirah!
> xx
It was Friday afternoon, and Zayn hadn’t heard from Liam since the previous day. He was frustrated about it, but he should learn to live with it. Liam needed time to process everything, and Zayn didn’t have the right to pressure him. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so anxious and hadn’t sprung everything onto Liam immediately, it would be better. Now it was too late to think of the ‘what ifs’.
Plus, Zayn hadn't told Louis, Ant and Danny about _anything_ yet. First, he would deal with Louis. He was prone to be the most difficult one, but once Zayn lets him know, the others would be easier.
That afternoon, he met with Louis at their favourite coffee place. Louis had drunk two cups of tea and Zayn still hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell him. It wasn’t that he doubted their friendship, not now, after so many years. It was his shame that was preventing him from telling. But, Liam was his soulmate, and he would have to tell his friends sooner or later. And sooner was better than later. If Louis didn’t like it, he will damn well learn to accept it. Although, he’s not the asshole everyone think he is.
“So, Lou, I wanna tell you something,” Zayn said, ripping a paper napkin into small pieces.
“Finally! I thought you’d never tell me what was bothering you,” Louis said, giving Zayn his undivided attention.
If it was any other situation, Zayn would have kicked Louis under the table, but now wasn’t the time for jokes. Louis noticed the change in Zayn’s pattern and frowned. | 37e09609a2ac48f690ce099e0daca22b | ['e1f8d9ec7f8f4aa0a7aeee3fe2df449b'] | Zayn popped the button and lowered the zipper with his heart beating in his throat. He was going to see Liam naked, and his brain was short circuiting before he even had a glimpse of his cock. He licked his lips and pulled the pants down, Liam raising his hips to help. Once the pants were off, Zayn took a look at Liam’s legs, soft hair covering hard muscle. He touched Liam’s knees and slid his hands up his thighs, his eyes glued on the shift of toned muscle.
Zayn moaned softly when his eyes fell on Liam’s crotch. He was wearing white boxers, the fabric darker at the tip of his cock, wet with precum. Zayn didn’t think, he just leaned forward and covered Liam’s dick with his mouth, moaning when he felt the taste of his precum through his boxers.
“Fuck! Zayn…” Liam gasped, shocked by Zayn’s action. He fisted Zayn hair, to tether himself to something, his heart hammering in his chest and a wave of pleasure engulfing him.
Zayn moaned when Liam grabbed his hair, the gush of air over the wet fabric bringing new sensations over Liam’s hardened flesh. Zayn mouthed at his cock hungrily, rubbing his balls and thigh, lost in his haze of lust and desire. With a last lick over the head of Liam’s cock, he raised his head and grabbed the waistband of Liam’s boxers, pulling them down.
They both hissed when Liam’s cock slapped onto his belly. “Fuck,” Zayn breathed, reaching for it with both his hands. He circled Liam’s dick with a hand, the other cupped his balls, squeezing and pulling softly, making him choke a moan. Zayn looked up at the sound, facing Liam’s flushed face and wide eyes, his pupils dilated, leaving only thin rings of brown around them.
Liam touched Zayn mouth with trembling fingers, and Zayn wrapped his lips around his index and middle fingers, sucking with an obscene look in his eyes.
“Shit,” Liam took his fingers from Zayn’s mouth, held his chin and leaned down to give him a quick, hard kiss. “You look filthy, babe,” he mumbled against Zayn’s lips.
“Do I?” Zayn asked, sounding pleased with himself.
“You do. I love it.” He gave a last, biting kiss, and let Zayn’s face go.
Zayn licked his lips looking Liam up and down, his hands wrapped around his cock, squeezing and tugging slowly, getting used to the feeling of another cock in his hands that wasn’t his own. He pulled the foreskin down, and rubbed softly at the ridge of the head with his thumb. He closed his fist around the head and pulled at his cock quick and firm, squeezing at the tip, listening to the soft moans Liam breathed continuously.
Zayn moaned, biting his lower lip, when the sounds of his hand jerking Liam’s dick turned into wet slapping sounds. He leaned down and licked at the head, collecting all the precum that was pooling there with a groan. Liam’s back arched and he fell backwards, hitting the bed with a grunt.
Zayn held Liam’s dick by the base, and wrapped his mouth around the head, sucking hungrily. Liam’s cock was so thick in his mouth, twitching every time he hollowed his cheeks sucking hard. It tasted so good, it felt delicious, soft skin covering rigid muscle, the smell was so enticing... Zayn was so hard from pleasuring Liam, that he could come just with that.
He sucked Liam’s dick hard and slow, releasing it with a loud pop, and bended lower to lick his balls and suck at them. He was in a frenzy, wanting to taste everything.
“Babe…” Liam moaned, lost in pleasure, pulling Zayn’s hair softly and scratching at what he could reach, his shoulders, his nape, his arms… His cock was dribbling precum on his belly, close to coming. Zayn just needed to give it a bit more attention.
Noticing that, Zayn let go of Liam’s cock and turned to his thighs, teasing. He kissed and bit the inside of Liam’s thighs, rubbing his beard on them, feeling his legs tremble under his attention.
The teasing only intensified the overwhelming sensation burning Liam from the inside out, making him moan shamelessly. Zayn got crazy listening to Liam moaning that way. He bit and rubbed his beard roughly on his thighs once more and leaned up to ravish Liam’s mouth.
Only then Liam realized that Zayn was still in his pants.
“Take it off,” he demanded, pulling at the waistband, scrambling for the button. Zayn leaned back to get his pants off, and Liam followed him up. Zayn fought with the button and zipper until he opened it. Liam was there with him, his hands sliding to Zayn’s bum to help push his pants and boxers down. As soon as Liam felt the skin of Zayn’s bum, he squeezed and pulled him in, crashing their lips together. Zayn was still trying to push his pants down, but when he felt Liam’s cock on his, he lost the ability to care about anything that wasn’t Liam.
Liam rolled his hips and pulled Zayn by his bum, making their cocks rub in the best of ways, sending a jolt of pleasure through them both. When Liam rolled his hips again, Zayn rolled his too and broke the kiss, pulling a gasping breath. His hands were fisted in Liam’s hair, feeling so much pleasure that his body was tingling with it. On the next pull, Liam slid a hand between Zayn’s cheeks, sending a shiver through his body. He slid his hand lower, teasing a finger at Zayn’s rim, crushing their cocks together once more and pressing at it. The tingling in Zayn’s body turned into an explosion and he came hard, pulling Liam’s hair roughly and groaning in the waves of pleasure. |
cee1991d98944ac883fd8d443fc7d364 | ['e1fefb3bc2bf465a898651b6c5f3686b'] | “It took me quite a while to get Uruha to even tell me a little bit about why you really wanted to pull him into our lives, but even then he still wouldn’t give me much. But now I _really_ see why you wanted him around, Ruki.”
Kai made his way over to the bed and sat down beside Ruki. Aoi’s instincts to protect Ruki flashed and he let out a sort of growl and Kai held up a hand to Aoi.
“Stand down, lover-boy. I’m just going to have a chat with him.”
Aoi still eyed Kai warily, making his Alpha presence known in the room. Kai’s Alpha presence was just as powerful, if not more so, but Aoi still held his ground.
“Ruki, if you wanted a mate, you should have just said so. I would have understood.”
Uruha and Ruki both looked at Kai like he was either high or had grown another head. But that’s when Ruki picked up the subtle change in Kai’s scent.
“Kai… did you…?”
“Mate? I have. Unexpectedly and not by my own choice. I was quite ambushed, let me tell you, but I’m not mad about it and I’m quite happy. And if that’s what you wanted, Ruki, you should have just said so. I would have understood. I know you and Uruha think that I’m the devil incarnate, but you weren’t around when our father was alive and the head, so you were spared the rod. He was truly evil. Be fortunate you never got to know him. Be fortunate that Reita was the one to spare you that fate.”
Kai moved the collar of his shirt down to show the two bite marks on his neck to reveal that he was indeed mated.
“To two people?”
Ruki said it rather incredulously. He’d heard of it, it was just extremely rare. Kai smiled at him, showing his dimples. Aoi thought that Kai should smile more because it made him look truly happy and a nice person.
“I found two Omega’s who fit me. What can I say? They ambushed me and now I’m mated for life. But some words of advice? You need to figure things out between you and Aoi before things get complicated and one of you hurts the other one or does something stupid that you’ll regret.”
Kai started to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, and one more thing: the family voted and Aoi’s allowed in as long as he keeps quiet to others about us. But you should probably tell him about those few around him.”
Kai waved a nonchalant hand and left the room. Aoi let out a sigh and got out of bed, putting on his boxers and going over to where Uruha lay on the floor. He helped him up and looked at Ruki.
“Any chance you have any medical supplies here?”
Ruki nodded and got out of bed, putting on some lounge pants and going into his hallway closet. He came back with some antiseptic and bandages. Aoi went to work cleaning and bandaging Uruha’s wounds. Uruha was quiet the entire time. Ruki went into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Moet and Chandon and handed it to Uruha. Uruha took it and took a big swig from it. When Aoi was finished he looked down at Uruha and gave him a gentle smile.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”
Uruha shrugged, his eyes distant, like he wasn’t mentally there.
“It wasn’t because of you. It was because Kai was in a rage at the time and needed a punching bag. It’s cool. It happens.”
Aoi frowned. That was not okay, but he didn’t know what to say to make it okay. Ruki leaned down to Uruha and helped him up off of the floor.
“Want to see Ducky?”
Uruha’s face lit up and he sat the bottle down on the table by Ruki’s bedroom door.
“Really?”
Ruki nodded his head yes and Uruha bounced on the balls of his feet. Aoi was thoroughly confused as to who or what Ducky was. Ruki led Uruha out of the room and Aoi followed them out and into the hallway, down the stairs and into the basement where Ruki flipped on the light and a little orange and white striped fur ball came running over to Ruki and Uruha. Uruha squealed happily and picked up the little fur ball happily. When Aoi got closer he could see that Uruha was holding a tiny orange and white striped kitten in his arms, petting it happily.
“He’s in the middle of moving so Ducky has to stay here while he moves. She’s his little love in life. I don’t know if he’d ever love anything else other than her, honestly.”
Ruki said it as he leaned back into Aoi with his arms crossed over his chest, watching as Uruha sat down in the floor to play with the kitten with some string and toys. Aoi had never seen Uruha so happy and at peace before. It made him happy to know that there was something in Uruha’s life other than booze or drugs that brought him such joy.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kai being nice? Now that's a surprise. Poor Uruha caught the brunt of Kai's episodic anger though.
19. Presence
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Aoi's just a regular ER doctor when he stumbles upon something he shouldn't and gets dragged into a life he never thought he'd be in. Can he sort out his feelings in time or will he lose the person he cares about the most?
Ruki smiled as he watched Uruha playing with Ducky.
“So, how about we all go and get some breakfast?”
Uruha looked up at Ruki and then looked down at Ducky sadly, like he didn’t want to leave her. Ruki chuckled at him. | bddb51c99de848869c4f7021b86c99a5 | ['e1fefb3bc2bf465a898651b6c5f3686b'] | Aoi removed his hand gently and that’s when he realized why he had been holding it so tightly. He was basically holding his insides from becoming his outsides. He couldn’t tell if it was from knife wounds or gunshots, but he had to get to work fixing it quickly. Aoi didn’t know how long it took him to fix that damage, but he kept checking on Ruki, making sure the other man was awake. Ruki stayed awake the whole time, although the alcohol and medicine were making him groggy, he was fighting it hard. Aoi admired that and was very thankful for it at the current time. He really didn’t want a dead body on his kitchen table which would also be hard to explain to the police.
Once he finally finished his abdomen and had it sewn up, he moved to Ruki’s legs where he had some gunshot wounds. There was one where he had a bullet lodged in his thigh. Thankfully, Ruki couldn’t feel anything anymore so it was easy to get it out. He was lucky, because it had just barely missed his main artery in his leg. He had three other through-and-through’s in his legs that he sewed up and then he was finally done. He sighed and went to the sink and washed his hands.
“There, I’m all finished.”
Ruki started to sit up on the table and Aoi rushed over to him and put a firm hand on his chest to stop him.
“No, no, no! You can’t do that right now. What you need is rest.”
“Family rule is we go home after shit goes down.”
Ruki’s words were slurred from the medication and alcohol.
Aoi shook his head no and pushed Ruki back down on the table, using his strength and his Alpha presence to keep Ruki in his control.
“Sorry, but you’re going to have to stay here for at least a week or more so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t die. And you’re also going to have be on bed rest because the littlest wrong movement will pop those stitches and you’ll be in hell all over again.”
Ruki groaned and ran a hand down his face.
“Fucking hell.”
Ruki turned to Aoi and sighed.
“Fine. Get my phone out of my pants pocket, please.”
Aoi was kind of taken aback by the please but he decided it was the medicine and alcohol and shrugged it off. He went over to Ruki’s clothes and got out his phone. He handed it to him and Ruki sent out a quick text. His phone started to vibrate after that but Ruki ignored it.
“Alright, Doctor Sexy, where am I going to sleep then?”
Aoi smiled at that and went over to Ruki and picked him up gently. He walked with him around the corner and opened a door. He sat Ruki down on a soft bed and smiled at him.
“This will be your room for the time being. It’s a guest room, but it’ll be your recovery room while you’re in recovery. If you need me, just yell. I’m the room right next to yours. I’m going to sedate you so you actually sleep and rest like you need. Okay?”
Ruki was quiet as he took in his surroundings and then nodded in agreement. Aoi walked around to where Ruki was and stuck the needle into Ruki’s arm and injected the sedative into his arm. It only took a few minutes for the sedative to take effect and then Ruki was asleep. He checked his blood pressure and thankfully it was fine. He shut the door and sighed as he went back into his kitchen and began to clean it up.
Once his kitchen was clean he called in to work and took a few weeks of vacation time off and then wandered down the hall to his bedroom. He stripped down and put on a pair of sleep pants and then flopped down onto his bed. He took his hair down from the ponytail he’d had it in and then he promptly passed out.
2. Attentive
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Aoi's just a regular ER doctor when he stumbles upon something he shouldn't and gets dragged into a life he never thought he'd be in. Can he sort out his feelings in time or will he lose the person he cares about the most?
Aoi awoke before Ruki did, which he expected so he got into the shower. He got out and got dressed and pulled his hair up into a ponytail. He went out of his room and down the hall and poked his head into Ruki’s room and he was still out like a light. He checked the other man’s vitals once more and they were good and strong. Aoi was thankful for that and went into the kitchen and went to cooking some food for himself and Ruki. He also made coffee. He was almost finished with the food when he heard a groan from the other room. Before he could make it to the other room, the door opened. Aoi’s eyes went wide and he dropped the glass of water in his hand.
“You! Bed!”
Ruki scoffed at the Alpha, holding his stomach and stumbling into the room. Aoi rushed over and helped him to a chair. Ruki grunted as he sat down.
“I smelled food. I can’t eat in a fucking bed, jackass.”
Aoi rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of the other man but prepared their food anyways. He brought Ruki his food and sat it down in front of him along with some water. Aoi sat down with his food after he’d cleaned the water he’d spilled up and saw Ruki making a face.
“Are you in pain or are you making a face at my cooking?”
“You gave me water.” |
979bfe99cf7c4aa5b94e25c7529ec837 | ['e20756231aec4331a5c1142f138ae04b'] |
Spilled Coffee
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first time ever writing a muggle au let alone a wolfstar one. Let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy!
Remus wasn’t complaining. He really wasn’t. It was just that being a widower with a three-year-old son and no other family members or friends could get a little lonely sometimes. He wanted to give his son Teddy the best life he could, but he also wanted to have a good life himself.
One day, he was at a coffee shop that he frequented. He was holding Teddy in his arms and leaned over to pick up his coffee when someone walked into him. It caused Remus to spill his coffee.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” someone said next to Remus. Remus looked up and saw a man with long black hair and beautiful grey eyes. He felt his face heat up.
“It’s alright,” Remus breathed out. The man smiled.
“At least let me buy you a new one,” Sirius said gesturing for the barista to come over. “Can we get another of whatever this man was having? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Remus,” he said offering the man his hand. The man shook it.
“Sirius, and who is this little one?” Sirius asked tickling Teddy’s stomach. Teddy laughed.
“I’m Teddy!” the toddler said excitedly. Sirius laughed.
“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Sirius cooed. Remus smiled at him. Sirius looked up just in time to see the grin. “Remus, I have to be going, but here’s my number.”
Sirius scribbled his phone number on a napkin and handed it to Remus. “I’ll be waiting for a text.”
…
Sirius jumped on the couch after a long day of work, not that he actually did any work. He was too busy thinking about the man he met at the coffee shop. He could feel himself blushing.
“Sirius, what has you all giddy?” Harry asked his godfather. Sirius threw a pillow at him. “Oh, it’s a guy.”
“What, no,” Sirius lied. Harry laughed. “Kid, come on. Were do you get off making fun of me having feelings? You’re a teenager if you haven’t noticed.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed, but I have also noticed that you are not. Whatever, who is this guy anyway?” Harry said. At that exact moment, Sirius’s phone buzzed. Harry reached for it. “Is that him?”
“Harry, no. Give it back,” Sirius said lunging for his phone. Harry just kept pulling it away.
“’Hi, it’s Remus from this morning.’ Remus. Sounds cute,” Harry joked causing Sirius to get even more flustered. “’Hi, Remus. How was your day?’ Send.”
“No,” Sirius said with wide eyes. “Harry, you’re so grounded.”
“Before you make any rash decisions, let’s see what he said back,” Harry said looking back down at the phone. “Ah, ‘Well, this guy spilled my coffee. I thought my day was ruined, but he turned out to be pretty cute. I guess it was a good day after all.’ God, this guy is a nerd.”
“Shut up,” Sirius muttered grabbing the phone from Harry. “You’re not grounded by the way, but you’re in charge of dinner for tomorrow.”
Harry groaned as he stomped out of the room, but Sirius was too busy texting Remus to worry about that. This guy sounds pretty cool. I bet he has nothing on the guy I met, though. He was cute and smart, and he was a single father on top of all of that. Talk about a catch.
…
“Dad!” Teddy yelled the next morning. Remus raised his eyebrows at his son. “Are we going to see Sirius again? I really liked him.”
“I don’t know, buddy. Why don’t I call him and ask?” Remus chuckled. Teddy cheered as Remus started dialing Sirius’s phone number.
“Hello,” Sirius’s voice filled the room from the speaker of Remus’s phone.
“Hi, Sirius,” Teddy said excitedly. Sirius laughed.
“Teddy, my dear boy, what can I do for you?” Sirius asked.
“Teddy was wondering if you would want to come over for dinner tonight,” Remus said. A loud yes was heard from the other end.
“He would love to. I’m Harry, by the way, his godson,” Harry answered for Sirius.
“Well, Harry, you’re invited as well. Come over at seven.”
…
Remus was freaking out. He hadn’t had people over in what felt like forever. Now, he had a teenage boy and a possible new boyfriend coming over for dinner. No, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. Sirius was barely even his friend yet. The doorbell ringing pulled Remus away from his thoughts.
“Coming,” Remus yelled running to the door. Flustered, he opened it and saw a dashing Sirius and a grinning Harry standing in his doorway. “Come in.”
“Thank you for having us, Remus,” Sirius said walking into the house. Harry just kept smiling. Remus figured that Harry knew something that he didn’t.
They had dinner, but Remus was too busy worrying about everything to enjoy it. For some reason, he looked over at Harry, and he could tell that the teenager knew everything about him.
“Remus, why don’t you and Sirius go spend some time alone? I’ll clean up and watch Teddy,” Harry said. Sirius glared at him, but Remus nodded.
“Sirius, would you like to go for a walk?” Remus asked. Sirius blushed.
“I would love to,” Sirius said getting up and casting one last look at Harry.
…
“So, did you have a good night?” Remus asked once they got outside. Sirius smiled at him.
“I did, but it would be so much better if we talked about what exactly is going on,” Sirius stated. Remus let out a breath.
“Well, Sirius, I have feelings for you,” Remus said continuing to walk. Sirius grabbed his hand.
“Can you stop walking for a second?” Sirius asked. Remus looked at him quizzically. “I want to try something if it’s alright with you.”
Remus nodded slightly and moved closer to Sirius. Sirius leaned forward and kissed him.
“Hurray!” someone yelled from behind them. They both turned around to see Harry holding Teddy a few feet away.
“He wanted to see what was going on out here. I’ll leave you alone now,” Harry said turning to go back to the house. “Hey, you’re welcome by the way.”
“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sirius said, but Remus just held him closer.
“Maybe not right this second,” he whispered before kissing Sirius again. | c88ccf52bef64ce4b91a28dc338dba67 | ['e20756231aec4331a5c1142f138ae04b'] | Not My Boyfriend
**Author's Note:**
> I really love Blam, and I just constantly feel the need to write about them. I hope you enjoy it!
Sam didn’t want to see Blaine sad about Kurt anymore. Seeing Blaine sad killed something in him. But, he also didn’t want to see Blaine with Kurt. Kurt just wasn’t the right person for Blaine. That’s why he was so upset when Blaine told Sam that he was going to propose to Kurt.
“Blaine, can we please talk about this for a second?” Sam asked as Blaine was rambling on and on about how he was going to propose.
“What’s up?” Blaine asked looking up from his phone where he was looking at engagement rings.
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing here? I mean you were just starting to get over him,” Sam said. He knew it was risky, but he needed to speak his mind.
“What are you trying to say, Sam?” Blaine asked. Sam knew he was getting upset, and it killed him. He didn’t want Blaine to be upset. That’s why he wanted Blaine to think about this.
“I’ve known you and Kurt for a long time. I’ve known you together, and I’ve know you apart. I’ve seen you after a bad fight with him, and I’ve seen you when you’re together. But, I have never seen you happier than these last few months. And, honestly, dude, I am so happy that you are okay because I was scared after the breakup. I was so scared. You weren’t okay. Once things started turning around, I was so freaking relieved. You know who wasn’t there for you during that time? Kurt. Kurt wasn’t there. I was there. I was the one who picked up the pieces. I know how awful it was. He doesn’t. He doesn’t know half of what you’ve been through. He only cares about himself. That’s it. You’re not happy with him, Blaine. Tell me that you can’t see that,” Sam said on the edge of hysterics. He was almost crying, but he held it in. He couldn’t have Blaine see that.
“Sam, what the hell? You can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with. You’re not my boyfriend!” Blaine yelled. Blaine didn’t expect that to come out. He really didn’t.
“I could be,” Sam said calmly. Blaine definitely didn’t expect that.
“I’m sorry, what?” Blaine asked. Sam walked over and sat next to Blaine on his bed. He took one of Blaine’s hands in his.
“Blaine, you are the best friend I’ve ever had. You never made me feel like I was stupid or poor or anything bad. You only made me feel good about myself. You make me so incredibly happy, Blaine. And I don’t know when my feelings went from platonic to romantic. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I love you, Blaine, even if you don’t feel the same way, I still love you. I don’t want you to make a mistake like this. I don’t want you to be unhappy. I never want that. All I want in the world is for you to be happy. That’s all I want,” Sam said. He didn’t know when he started crying, but he felt a tear rolling down his cheek. Blaine wiped it away.
“Okay, okay. It’s okay. Calm down. Don’t cry,” Blaine said pulling Sam closer to him. He rubbed Sam’s back. It was all hitting him. He wasn’t in love with Kurt anymore. He was chasing after something he didn’t have anymore because he was scared of what he really wanted. He wanted Sam. He wanted his best friend.
“Sam,” Blaine said. Sam looked up at him.” Sam, I love you, too. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see it before. I’m sorry that I was so blind. I can’t believe I thought I was going to marry Kurt. What was I thinking? I don’t love him. I love you. I love you so much.”
Sam smiled through the tears. Blaine smiled back. He leaned forward and kissed Sam. Yeah, Sam could be his boyfriend.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you liked it! Tell me if you would like more. |
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